#I don’t have really anything else to say. I’m just here

[erwinsvow]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞 — 𝐚.𝐜.

summary: you take care of lena, clean up around the house, and always leave dinner for him when he gets home late. and among constant and never-ending change, you are andrew's northern star.

pairing: andrew cody x babysitter!reader

word count: 13.3k

warnings: read carefully! age-gap dynamics, reader is said to have recently graduated college, i basically ignore anything from the show that wouldn't make sense in my perfect little world. smut—arm humping, oral sex, penetration, the tiniest bit of breeding if you squint real hard.

author's note: and here she is. also known as shea wants to write about doing things to pope's arms.

you used to complain if someone called you their nanny. you’re just a babysitter. this would not—could not—be your full time job. it’s just so demanding. you love the kids you take care of but the idea of saying that you’re a nanny makes it a little more real. like you wouldn’t be able to get out of this, despite how hard you’re trying.

you just don’t want to be a babysitter forever. 

but the first time mister cody introduces you as lena’s nanny, you don’t think you mind it all that much. 

babysitters are temporary—girls in high school looking for money to pay for coffee and nail appointments, covering date-nights and overtime at the office.

nannies are permanent—it’s a career. you’re responsible for the kid pretty much twenty-four hours a day. kids with nannies are rich, mom and dad too busy at work to be at home. from the little you deduced, nannies buy groceries and make three meals. they go to doctor’s appointments and organize play-dates with other nannies. 

you do some of those things for lena. her uncle tries to take her and pick her up from school when he can, and when he calls to tell you that he won’t be able to make it every now and then, he sounds so sorry about it, you don’t know what you can do to reassure him that it’s okay. lena’s young, she doesn’t care about stuff like that so deeply. and she likes you, which helps matters a lot.

you had finished the last few classes you needed to graduate a couple months ago. before that, you’d have to tell mister cody no, i’m sorry occasionally, something that you really didn’t like doing. he seemed like he had enough going on without the babysitter cancelling.

and besides, after you had told him that your classes were done, you were supposed to tell him that you would be looking for a real job, something with your degree, that he should start looking for a real nanny for lena. you were supposed to politely, yet firmly allude to how you’d been scrambling with classes, finishing assignments in the car in between picking up his niece and after she’d fallen asleep at night. how you missed an important lecture because the pediatrician’s office was running behind an hour and lena’s grandmother wasn’t available to take her.

instead, the second you had met his eyes (which were terribly green and incredibly sad), you had folded, and told him you’d be available whenever he needed. and you thought maybe that would garner you a smile—and you’d been wrong. he had looked your way for about five seconds, muttered thank you, and walked away. 

and maybe if you could resist those terribly green and incredibly sad eyes, you wouldn’t have wound up as a full-time nanny. life could always be worse—that’s the motto you’ve grown up with. there are so many worse things in oceanside than spending every day in a pretty house by the beach and taking care of a quiet little girl. 

if not anything else, you could start making payments on your student loans, if you wanted. mister cody paid you in cash, and he paid you way too much, probably his way of apologizing for how much you had stepped up in the last couple months. but again, you didn’t really mind anymore. maybe if it was another family, you would care more about finding a real job.

but you like lena. you like her uncle, too, you think, as much as you can like a man who is virtually silent and stares at you like he’s boring into your soul when you’re making dinner. you like him because he’s good with her, you can always tell he’s trying his absolute best, his hardest with her. (it doesn’t help that he’s cute—cute in the way that strays are, like you wish you could fix everything wrong with him and reassure him that he’s doing enough, and tell him to stop staring and just come tell you what he’s thinking instead.) 

the first couple months were the hardest. lena wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. she hated school, hated all the things she had still cared for when her dad was alive. you’d tried bribing her with trips to the beach, the playground, ice cream with extra fudge and sprinkles. all the things that kids liked. but she wasn’t just a normal kid—and it seemed that you and her uncle were the only ones who understood this. 

you didn’t realize you had such a maternal instinct inside of you. maybe it’s because the other kids you’d babysat in your life had been brats, sticky handed toddlers going through the terrible twos and making your life hell while you were trying to pass your classes. lena is the opposite. 

she’s the saddest child you’ve ever met, and you know nothing that you or her uncle do is going to fix it overnight.

but progress comes in stages. the first step had been getting her to want to eat again. you’d sat on the couch next to her, watching a nature documentary that her uncle had probably left playing on the tv.

(he is a whole other can of worms—he doesn’t sleep or eat that much either, and one time you had come in really early to get some work done before getting her to school. he’d been awake, watching something just like this, at five-thirty in the morning. and when you’d asked him when he’d gotten up, he had shrugged, and murmured something that sounded suspiciously close to i don’t sleep. that’s your next mission, because you can only focus on one at a time.)

“you hungry, sweetie?” you didn’t want to be pushy. she wouldn’t like that, would only retreat further into herself. you wanted her to come to you when she was ready to eat. lena shook her head and focused back on the television. “okay. well, if you get hungry later, i’ll eat with you.”

lena says okay in her quiet voice, holding onto a stuffed animal and staring ahead. you wait a couple of hours—there’s always something to do in the house. you clean up, wiping counters and sweeping while she stays on the couch. you check in every now and then to make sure she didn’t fall asleep. 

and then, thirty minutes before her new bedtime, she comes and sits on the chair by the dining table while you’re wiping it down.

“can we get pizza?” she asks, and you nod right away.

“of course we can. what kind do you want?”

another thirty minutes later, the pizza’s there, and you’re both eating slices of pepperoni and spinach. you’ve formulated your plan for the rest of the night—her uncle’s still not home, which means you can crash on the couch or stay awake. you decide to stay awake, since there’s no follow up text from him. if he wasn’t going to come home tonight, you’d expect the standard, concise message; won’t be back tonight. is lena okay? 

and you’re stupid, because you think it’s sweet that he always asks if she’s okay. like you wouldn’t call him the second something went wrong, like he doesn’t believe that you’d trust him with that information before anyone else. but there’s no texts tonight from the contact you’d saved as andrew cody (lena’s uncle). 

lena’s finishing her last slice and you’re cleaning up when you hear it—the rumble of his truck pulling up to the house. then a minute later, footsteps and the front door opening.

“what’s all this?” he asks, and you have to remember to find the words. 

you don’t know why that happens when he comes around—you’re usually great with dads. maybe it’s because he looks tired, more tired than usual, at least. his copper curls are messed up, like he’s been running a hand through his hair all night. lena’s uncle is always stiff, but it seems worse today, somehow.

(another thought seeps in, an uninvited guest in your mind, about how you’d really like to take care of him. he just needs some sleep, a little peace of mind. that’s it. you’re still trying to figure out the best way to give it to him.)

“we got pizza, uncle pope,” lena fills in, setting down the last piece of crust you knew she wouldn’t finish. 

“there should be enough for you,” you add, smiling at him. he doesn’t smile back, but you’re used to that at this point. and you can tell what’s about to come. “lena, can you go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on for me?” 

she nods and climbs off the chair, running into her room. 

“it’s past her bedtime,” he starts, taking a few steps closer to you. “and pizza for dinner-”

you interrupt him, even though you probably shouldn’t. you close up the box, setting it on the island and you go back to wipe the table.

“she’s not eating, mister cody,” you put the paper towel down, getting your bearings in order to face him, make the dreaded, never-ending eye-contact. “when kids don’t eat you have to meet them halfway. i thought this was better than her going to bed without eating at all.” 

he keeps looking at you. you think you should be a little nervous, but you don’t get like that anymore. flustered, sure, but not nervous—lena’s uncle is just kind of a starer, and you’ve gotten used to it by now. 

“i’m sorry. i’ll run it by you next time, i promise. i just wanted her to eat something.” he’s silent for a while, like he’s processing what you said. 

“yeah. okay. thanks.” 

you smile again, a small one. the kitchen’s clean now, or at least as clean as you can get it. you’re sure that when you’re back in the morning, it’ll be spotless, which you can only assume is one of mister cody’s nocturnal activities. you have a routine before leaving—you say goodnight to lena, make sure you didn’t leave anything behind, and tell her uncle you’ll see him in the morning.

he doesn’t normally say anything back, maybe a grunt of acknowledgement. so you’re surprised tonight, when you grab your bag and your keys and hear—

“have a good night.” 

“you too, mister cody.” 

+

it took time, but you’ve gotten her schedule better. she eats dinner with you now, whatever semi-healthy thing you can think of with the stuff in the pantry and the groceries you picked up while she’s at school. her uncle leaves money for that sort of thing—an envelope filled with hundred dollar bills. it’s labeled lena’s babysitter in stiff, neat handwriting and he told you to use it for copays and ice-cream and anything else that lena needs. but it feels wrong to use his money when he already overpays you, so you just use your own. 

you thought he might not have noticed that the envelope isn’t getting any thinner, until one morning when you arrive and see him counting the notes in it with his head down. now you’re the one staring—watching his arm flex and the muscles move as he flips through the bills. he wears the same kind of shirts every day, short sleeve button-ups, and every day, you are subject to watch his forearms while he does whatever he does. it’s a cruel and unusual punishment.

the worst had been when you needed a box down from the cabinet, the one with the muffin tins and cookie cutters. he had appeared behind you and taken it down for you in seconds, carrying it to the kitchen for you. you had been staring then too, uncomfortable and slack-jawed and wondering why his arms had your mouth dry. (you know the answer, it’s just better to live in denial, you think.)

“good morning, mister cody.” you set your bag down on the sofa, heading inside to get started on breakfast. you open the fridge, taking out a carton of eggs and orange juice and avoiding looking right at him. you don’t need to be flustered before seven-thirty am.

“you haven’t been using this money,” he states. you wish you could figure out what his tone means—there’s no inflections, no emotion simmering behind the words. it’s just cut and dry, stating a fact.

“well, i-” you turn back and look up from the stove and your words die on your tongue. he’s standing up, looking right at you, a fist full of cash like he’s going to make you use it one way or another. a single vein running through his arms tenses. your gaze flickers from it to his eyes quickly, looking at you like he wants you to start listening to him.

“i, um, i had enough.”

“you should use it.”

“but you already gave me a lot, so i-”

“i want you to use it.” the way he says it, it’s not a request. 

“right. i-i will. is lena awake?”

“she’s getting ready.”

“great. thank you.” you turn back to the eggs with a flushed face. and even though you’re not facing him anymore, you can tell he’s still staring at you. 

“i might not be back tonight.” you turn around and meet his eyes again. terribly green, incredibly sad. you’re too far now to see the brown, but you know it’s there. “i…i’ve got some work. it’ll be late, if i do.”

“thank you for the heads up. i, uh, i’ll crash on the couch then.” you think he might say something else, but you’re not sure. it’s silent for a moment, while you get the eggs onto a plate and hurry into the hallway to get lena.

she comes out first, carrying her backpack. you follow with her hairbrush for once she’s done eating, getting her already packed lunch out from the fridge to sort into her bag. there’s a whole routine that you had learned when you first started babysitting her, and now it’s just a way of life. filling up her water bottle, checking the calendar on the fridge to make sure there’s nothing you’re missing, pulling her jacket from the closet if it’s cold outside.

you get the bottle out, glancing back at her uncle. he’s leaning in while lena takes a bite of the eggs, probably telling her that he won’t be home, and to have a good day, and all the other things you’re sure he says to her. then they hug, and you feel like you’re intruding.

he picks up his keys, which rest in the small blue bowl by the door where yours sit too. and without thinking, you call out after him.

“have a good day at work.” he doesn’t say anything back, but he looks at you before he leaves. you don’t even know what he does for work.

“ready for school?” lena shakes her head no like always.

+

the days are long, but the weeks are short. you bring lena to school, but they have a half-day, so there’s no point in going home for the day if you need to be back in a couple of hours. so you head back to mister cody’s place, focusing your attention on cleaning the remnants from breakfast. you check the fridge, making note of how much fruit and milk you have left, scribbling onto a piece of paper for later. and for once, you listen to him, taking a single bill out of the envelope and putting it into your wallet. there’s other hundred dollar bills in there too, ones you need to deposit.

it hasn’t been making sense lately. a lot of nannies live with their families because it avoids the wastefulness of paying rent for an apartment you hardly ever visit. you pay internet and electric for a one-bedroom that’s empty the entire day. and now that you’re done with classes, you don’t even need to work on anything late at night or even at lena’s house. you carry around a book with you, and you think you’ve even left a couple on the coffee table, just for the future. 

you don’t know why you still have your apartment. well, you know why—mister cody has never mentioned you moving in. and he probably never will, because he doesn’t want you to. but it just doesn’t make sense the more you think about it. you show up between six and seven and sometimes you don’t go home until ten. sometimes you don’t go home at all.

after making your list, you rack your head of things you can do to occupy lena’s time today. the library has a weekly reading, and there’ll be other kids there. you like to pick things so she can get some company from kids her age, so she’s not only stuck with you and her uncle all the time. 

closer to when school gets out, you get in the car, bringing in your emergency bag with a change of clothes and your toothbrush since you’ll be staying the night. it’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence, which is why the bag, and a couple others like it, is always ready to go. you go to the bank first, depositing everything except the single hundred-dollar bill you took today. then you drive by the park, see if they’re having any of those pet-therapy sessions today. and then finally school to pick up lena.

the rest of the day goes how you planned. you forget how exhausting it is keeping a little kid entertained for hours on end, unsure of exactly what her uncle pope and his brothers do with her sometimes, when you struggle to fill up a couple of extra hours. the grocery store—where you splurge and buy ingredients to make stove-top smores because lena asks and you’ll take your wins where you can get them—then the library, where you take out a couple of books for lena to read at home and smile when she’s talking with some of the other girls there, then the playground for an hour, before home for dinner.

you make spaghetti while she finishes her homework, and review her homework while she changes into pajamas. and then it’s time for the routine she loves so much, just like her uncle, a nature documentary about penguins while you toast the marshmallows on a fork. 

an hour later, lena’s asleep in bed, and you’re scrubbing hardened chocolate off the counter next to the stove. you don’t want more work for her uncle when he’s back, and you’ve learned lena’s a heavy sleeper, so you get to cleaning. it’s not like, as pathetic as the thought is, you have anything better to do. 

and then about two hours after that, it’s eleven-thirty. it’s right around the latest that mister cody has ever come home, so you’re pretty sure he won’t be back tonight. 

the only thing you have to look forward to in your apartment is the shower you take after a long day. you’ll have to make do with the shower inside the room where mister cody sleeps, since lena’s is close to her room and filled with products for an eight year old, and at the very least, you need adult shampoo and soap. 

the room is bare—you would have guessed it’s a guest room if you didn’t know better. you’re not nosy, but you look around, trying to see if there’s anything there that makes the room her uncle’s. you know there’s still another bedroom, the one her parents used to share, since lena sometimes goes in there when she can’t sleep. so this was a guest room, and now it’s mister cody’s, and now you’re lurking in it.

besides for a closet full of clean-pressed button up shirts and organized shoes, you can’t discern anything that makes this room his. there’s not a single thing out of place, from the garden-variety decor that someone else had picked to the artwork to the sheets. the bathroom is more of the same, the entire place having that lemon-cleaner smell to it. 

you turn the water on and strip, trying to avoid thinking about how you’ll be sleeping on the couch after this. and even inside the shower, you stare at the two-in-one shampoo bottle and the old spice body wash—old spice. who would have thought?—like you can’t believe what you’re looking at. you inhale the scent for longer than you need to. wrap yourself in a clean towel that doesn’t belong to you. brush your teeth with his spearmint toothpaste. and then you open your overnight bag, and find nothing but sundresses and bathing suits.

it’s past midnight, and you’ve grabbed the wrong bag. you need to get up in about six and a half hours to get lena ready for school, and you’re not positive you have the correct bag in the back of your car. 

hesitantly, you open one of the dresser drawers. there’s black and white t-shirts folded precisely, tucked in evenly. one drawer up there’s folded socks and boxers. 

you chew on your cheek. he did say that he won’t be home tonight. there’s no way he would know you took anything if you ran a load of laundry as soon as you woke up and folded it after morning drop-off. he might not even be home until the afternoon or evening, for all you know.

your tiredness makes the decision for you. the couch isn’t that comfortable, and you refuse to sleep in the shirt and jean skirt you spent all day in. you take a white shirt and black boxers, and then sneak back in for a pair of black socks because the living room is cold at night. and then you set your alarm, turn on another documentary—this one about hummingbirds, wrap yourself in the throw blanket on the couch, and close your eyes. 

andrew comes home at quarter to three. it would have been a lot sooner—he doesn’t like leaving you alone here at night with lena if he can avoid it—but he doesn’t always have control over it. a bullet had grazed deran and he’d spent two hours cleaning up that mess, and then they had to organize their splits before leaving. he had to make sure to stay for that—he needs the cash to pay you, rent for baz’s place, money to put into lena’s savings account. 

but he hates leaving you alone in the apartment with lena. not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he knows now it’s not safe, not without him there. he likes to get you home early but it’s rarely the case, and then he feels like he should pay you extra since he’s making you drive home alone in the dark.

telling you to stay is a better option. you can sleep in his room—it’s not like he’s going to sleep in there anyways. but he doesn’t say that, doesn’t need the nanny thinking there’s something wrong with him too. so he settles for telling you to stay the night, and letting you decide where you’ll sleep. 

you always pick the couch. and sometimes, he’s not back early enough, sometimes you’re already up making breakfast or gone out for the day with lena by the time he’s back.

 but tonight, you’re asleep on the couch. he sets down the bag with the cash on the couch, hovering over you. the television is still on, stuck on a are you still watching? screen, covering up a photo of some birds. a breath leaves him when he realizes you’re watching what he always watches. you’re knocked out—he can tell since the front door opening didn’t wake you like it sometimes does. you’ve kicked away the blanket you usually use, and he thinks for a second he should just cover you up and let you sleep.

but he doesn’t. he stands over you, staring at your sleeping form. he doesn’t like it—how pretty you are when you sleep. it’s a distraction that he can’t escape, knows that the next time he closes his eyes, he’ll think of you. that the next time he sits on this couch, he’ll be able to smell your skin. you snore softly, chest rising and falling evenly. 

and then he notices it—the plain shirt, black socks with a familiar logo. are those his boxers? and now he definitely can’t look away. he puts the pieces together—your hair is wet, meaning you must have showered and then put on his clothes before coming back out here. if you were going to do all of that, why didn’t you just sleep in his room?

yes, pope decides, he needs you to sleep in his bed. he needs the couch anyways, since he won’t be sleeping, so he might as well bring you inside. 

he lifts you carefully, not wanting to stir you accidentally. his shirt is a little big on you, hanging off your shoulder. you stay sound asleep the entire short walk to his bedroom, not stirring even when he sets you down. you must have been really tired, but that makes sense, given the fact that you’ve been out all day with lena.

he thought about sticking a tracker on your car, but the first time he was taking care of lena, after baz, you had shared your phone’s location with him so he could keep track. you had offered it, voluntarily, saying something about how that’s common with babysitters now, and that you never go anywhere without your phone so he won’t have to worry about you leaving it at home.

you thought reassuring him that he would always have lena’s location in his phone would make him feel better. and maybe it had, but he’d never mentioned it again after that day, never brought up if he actually checked it or not.

(it’s not like you would know if he was using it, it doesn’t work like that. deran had explained it to him.) he did check it, pretty frequently, actually. he checked it after you’d leave when he got home, after lena was asleep. he’d watch your little circle drive home and pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex. it wasn’t as bad of an area as it could be, but it wasn’t that safe either. he liked to check it every now and then too, middle of the night, saturday evenings when he was home with lena and you got to leave early or had the day off.

he assumed, somehow, that you’d be in bars or parties at your college, maybe. but when he looks at your location late at night, you’re always at home. he checks other times too—but he’s just trying to keep you safe. (that’s what he tells himself—that finding another babysitter than lena liked and that he trusted would be a hassle. he needs to keep you safe.)

but it doesn’t seem like you like any of that stuff. he’s never seen you drink the beer in the fridge, though you offer one to him every now and then. you’ve met smurf and deran and craig before, like when you’d go to drop off lena before one of your classes, back before you had finished school.

you were smart—he knew that much. that was the kind of good example he needed around lena, someone who had gone through school and finished. he didn’t know what your degree was in, but it must’ve been something smart, something important. you were always typing on your computer and reading books. whatever it is that you studied, he wants someone in lena’s life that can help her with that stuff, stuff he doesn’t know much about, when it’s time.

you were smart enough to turn down every joint or bump that craig offered. you never accepted a drink from smurf that didn’t come from a can that you opened yourself. and baz used to tell him that you were just a local college kid, that you didn’t have any family nearby or anyone to occupy your time, really. 

it didn’t make sense—pretty girl like you. he would have thought you had a boyfriend, but if you do, you’ve never brought him around. and if he didn’t live with you or live at that coffee shop you liked that was down the street from your apartment, then he didn’t know if you even had one. maybe he shouldn’t spend any time thinking about your hypothetical boyfriend, but that’s just what comes up sometimes when he thinks about you for too long. like right now.

you look peaceful lying in his bed. your eyes flutter quickly like you’re having a dream, and he sits on the bed next to you, watching you sleep. your hair falls across your face, and his finger twitches. he almost moves his hand to brush the hair away, but he decides not to, settling for just watching you for another minute or two. 

the bed creaks slightly when he gets up. no one uses it much, so it’s a little weary. he doesn’t think the noise is anything, but your eyes blink open. the door’s open, light from the living room illuminating a sliver of the space.

he thinks he should get out before you can ask any questions, but he doesn’t, hovering over the bed while you look around. 

“andrew?” and god if it doesn’t sound different coming from your lips. you’re too tired to remember that you usually stick with mister cody, which is so formal it hurts. it sounds real, sincere, not filled with fear or anger or anything else. you haven’t even said anything and he thinks he’s losing his mind. 

it’s just the way you say it. there’s no question attached, no demand, no sacrifice. just you, making sure it’s him. 

“that couch is bad for your back,” he says. 

he knows it is, the couple times he tried to lay down and stare at the ceiling. he’s always sore, muscles screaming and joints aching but he knows how to ignore it. he doesn’t think you should start feeling like that. feels angry at the very idea that you would be sore after spending a night on the couch, taking care of his niece, looking after baz’s house. doing all the things that he’s too busy to do.

you take care of things. you do a good job too—figuring out how to get lena to eat and sleep again. making sure her routine doesn’t go awry just because he’s gone on a job all day. you remember things that he doesn’t even know about—activities with kids after school and how the school has soccer practice starting soon. you think a couple steps ahead when it comes to lena, and sometimes, he doesn’t think you see it as a job. 

like when you make enough breakfast for the three of you. leave dinner on a plate inside the microwave with a note on the counter. when you clean like it’s your house, make sure things stay in the place they’re supposed to, which is so much harder when there’s a kid around. he’s not stupid—it’s why he gives you so much money each week, shoves an envelope into your hand despite your protests. why the first thing he does after he gets his cut is make sure you get yours. 

and as hard as the thought is to swallow, he doesn’t think he could do all of this without you. 

“mmh-” you agree, making a soft noise. he wishes he could engrain it into his brain and replay it whenever he wants. “i thought you don’t sleep?” you ask, and he sees your lips turn up into a smile. he wishes the lights were on.

“i try,” he replies, realizing that he’s still hovering over you. he wonders why you weren’t scared the moment you woke up. “sometimes. i try.” 

“do you wanna try now?” you ask, whispering. and he goes silent—because what is he supposed to say that? 

you reach out in the dark for his hand, and he flinches, taking it back. but you don’t retreat, reaching out again until you’re grasping his fingers. 

“try for a couple hours. i set an alarm,” you say, and the way you say it, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. you have a way of convincing him, or maybe it’s just late and you’re tired, and your sleepy voice isn’t helping matters. nor does the fact that you don’t seem even remotely concerned that you’re inviting him to come sleep on the bed next to you.

you sit up a little, and he regrets even staying as long as he did. you need your sleep, unlike him. you’re still holding onto his hand, and your skin is warm on his. it couldn’t really be, but it feels like it’s burning his, where your palm rests against his, where your fingers twist with his. 

“hey,” you start, slow and soft. “don’t think about it. just sleep for a little.” 

“yeah,” he says. “okay. a little.”

you move over, and when he lays down—back straight against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling—it’s warm where your body was resting. you’re still holding onto his hand, not letting go. your grip is loose enough that he could free his hand easily, and even if it wasn’t, he could overpower you if he wanted.

but he doesn’t want to. and somewhere between your slow breaths and how you rub his knuckles, running your soft skin against dozens of old scars—because that’s his punching hand—andrew falls asleep.

you can hear it, his breaths getting steady, evening out. your hands stay together in the middle of the bed, between you, and you wonder for a split second how you’re going to deal with this in the morning, how you’ll make sense of this in daylight. the semblance of a professional relationship you had maintained this entire time might turn into dust in a couple hours. and then you breathe in andrew’s comforting scent, clean linen and saltwater, and fall back asleep.

the best thing about this house is the light and the waves. golden rays pour in through the half-way open blinds and you can hear the ocean crashing against the rocks in the distance. it’s the perfect way to wake up, even if it is six-thirty and your alarm is going off in the living room, where your phone must be.

you need to get up. you don’t want lena to wake up from the noise, even though you know she won’t—that girl can sleep through anything. it’s a problem for when she’s older, when she goes to college and there’s no one besides a roommate to make sure she doesn’t miss class. even half-asleep, you smile thinking about it.

and somehow, when you look on the other side of the bed, it hits you that it wasn’t a dream. andrew is asleep next to you, still in whatever clothes he was wearing throughout the day. a short sleeved button up and pants. you’re surprised that he didn’t fall asleep with his shoes on. 

he looks very calm when he sleeps. the lines of tension on his forehead and around his eyes are soft when he’s like this, his hair a mess and cheek smushed against the pillow, against your hand.

he’s still holding your hand. it makes a certain kind of warmth rain all over you, flooding you from inside out. he’s on top of the covers and you’re under the throw blanket, and you don’t remember doing that, which means that he did.

an exhausted, half-asleep andrew cody covered you up before he fell asleep on top of the covers. he fell asleep holding your hand and your chest hurts because he won’t wake up holding it still, since you need to go turn that stupid alarm off. 

he never sleeps, you know this. he’s never been asleep when you show up early, never heading to bed when you leave for the day. this bed is pretty much always made, sheets never rustled and not a pillow out of place because no one sleeps here. you hope you can start changing that.

you don’t want to pull your hand away from him. it’s so simple, so sweet that you can’t bring yourself to do it. that this whole time, andrew just needed someone to sleep beside him. you rest your head back on the pillow, continue staring, creepy as it is. you’ve never been able to study him like this before, have never been close enough. 

the hand holding onto yours is softer than you’d imagined. the veins running through his forearm are thick and tense, even when he’s like this. you think it might be from how tightly he’s holding onto your hand, like even in his sleep he’s worried he might lose you somehow. 

andrew cody has freckles—all across his arms and on his hands too. there’s a splatter of them across his nose and cheeks, places where he must have gotten burnt as a kid, maybe when he was lena’s age. the tips of his ears flush pink while he sleeps, and he snores. all things that make you smile, things that are so personal you feel your face getting warm, like you shouldn’t have access to that information. 

you need to turn that god-damn alarm off, before it wakes him up. you think you’d rather die than disrupt the few hours of peaceful sleep he’s getting right now. so you wriggle your hand, trying to find the best way to get it out of his grip and make sure you don’t wake him in the process. nothing’s working, even in his sleep he’s thrice as strong as you. the generic alarm tone keeps going in the background.

you lean in, pressing a chaste kiss to andrew’s cheek, whispering that you promise to be right back. and for a split second he moves around, and you regain control of your tingling hand.

the bed creaks a little when you get up, but you do it slowly so it’s not too loud. walk to the couch as fast as your bare feet will take you, looking down and realizing you’re still in andrew’s socks.

(his shirt and boxers too, but you’re choosing to ignore that for now. if someone walked in through the front door in this moment, it would look like you and him were something other than a guardian and babysitter. you think you’d actually enjoy trying to see him explain to his brothers why you’re in his clothes head to toe. you might like this more than you think you did.)

you can hear the ocean again once the alarm is turned off. it’s a beautiful thing to wake up too, you think, pulling open the curtains and looking outside on the street. people are on runs, doing yoga on the beach, watching the sunrise with their dogs.

and inside, andrew cody is sound asleep.

the first part of your day is waking up lena. she grumbles and takes five, sometimes ten, minutes to get up after you go in there. in that time, you set out clothes for her and then head back to the kitchen. you have a habit of making sure her backpack has everything—the colorful pens she’s always telling you about and yesterday’s homework. if she forgot something at home, the school would call andrew, and then andrew would call you, and you hate adding more work to his life. so, you make sure it’s all there before she leaves.

then breakfast—eggs and toast if you’re running late, pancakes if you got there early. it’s seeming like a pancake sort of day.

you make the batter and then pull out the bag of chocolate chips and head back to lena’s room. you use the semi-sweet morsels as an incentive to get her up, which works like a charm. while she’s changing and brushing her teeth, you make three pancakes. two for lena, and the first one you peeled that’s never quite as good is for you. 

lena comes to the table to eat her pancakes, and you tell her to stay just a little quieter than usual because her uncle pope is still sleeping.

“really?” she asks, and you feel something inside of you twist in discomfort. as if you had imagined before you met him, maybe he was sleeping, that maybe this was something recent. you smile at lena.

“yeah, sweetie, really.” 

you bring lena to school, come back home, and check on andrew—who is still sleeping. you cover him up with the blanket you’d slept under and then make three more pancakes and some scrambled eggs. there’s no bacon in the house or you would have made that too.

you scribble it on the grocery list and then head back inside the bedroom, carefully perching yourself on the edge of the bed and maybe a little too comfortable, too quick, run your fingers through his messy hair. he sighs against the pillow and it makes you smile immediately. you keep going, fingers not stopping until you see his eyes fluttering open. you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, though you don’t want to stop either. 

“i made breakfast,” you say quietly. andrew looks up at you, and then to your slept-in side of the bed. he moves, sitting up in the bed and you take back your hand tentatively. his hair is soft like you’d imagined.

 he wipes his face with his hands, rubbing at his eyes. and when he looks at you, you feel any prudence that once was inside you melt away. well-rested, sleepy andrew cody, waking up in the bed you shared last night, while you tell him about the pancakes you made for him. you couldn’t have imagined this, for some reason, which makes it feel all the more real. 

“what time is it?” he asks, in a gruff, sleepy voice.

“almost nine, i think.” he looks up at you quickly.

“lena?”

“i brought her to school already. you-you were sleeping. i didn’t want to wake you.” 

“when did you get up?” 

“six-thirty. my alarm. remember?” you do remember telling him about it before you fell asleep, one of the last things you had said in a conversation that feels like it was light-years ago. 

“yeah.” you know better than to expect anything right now. he’s always been quiet, sentences curt and expressions relatively blank. you’ve had a few hours to simmer in it—think about what’ll happen tomorrow and next week and what it means to sleep in the bed next to the man whose niece you babysit. he just woke up a few minutes ago.

“well, there’s pancakes. and eggs. there’s no bacon but i’ll go get some later-”

“did you eat?” you catch his eye. perched on the bed next to him, you can see more than just green. brown too, around his pupils. not nearly as sad as they had seemed yesterday. 

“yeah. i had one.” 

“just one?” you don’t have an answer for that, but unusually confident, you stand up. 

“i’ll have a bite of yours if you come eat with me.”

and though you couldn’t have imagined it last night, you end up leaning against the counter with andrew, splitting bites of chocolate-chip pancakes (yours drenched in syrup, his comparably dry as a bone), and luke-warm scrambled eggs. 

he washes the dishes, and you put them away. it’s incredibly domestic. 

“i’m sorry about your clothes,” you say, sliding a plate back into the cupboard. “um, i’ll wash everything today.” you had to bring it up at some point.

and then andrew turns to look at you. head to toe, he stares, gaze flicking up and down for what seems like eons. you don’t have a guess for why, maybe he’s trying to decide if he’ll accept your apology.

(he’s trying to memorize it, capture it like a picture in his brain, seal it up and hold onto it forever. how you look right now—his white shirt, with nothing underneath, which must be why he can see the outline of your breasts when you turn to put another dish away. his boxers, that you bunched up around your waist, his socks, one rolled up around your ankle and the other halfway up your calf. did you go to the school drop-off in his clothes, too?)

“and i can wash your jacket too, i’m sorry. it was kind of cold and i don’t know where my hoodie is. i-i’m sorry.”

he turns to look at you again. you seem worried, chewing on your cheek, waiting for his answer.

“don’t wash the jacket,” he says, and turns back to the sink. he doesn’t want it to stop smelling like you, but you don’t need to know that.

“yeah. sure. i won’t. sorry again, andrew.” 

his heart thuds in this chest at the realization that you might never go back to calling him mister cody. 

the two of you finish the dishes. he wipes up the counter while you put away lena’s things, and then he grabs his keys and puts on his shoes. you stand there watching, feeling awfully close to something like a wife watching her husband about to leave her for the day. and when you open your mouth, you can’t stop it from coming out.

“do you know when you’ll be back?”

“i’ll be here for dinner. can you pick up lena?” he doesn’t want to leave you, but there’s about ten texts and three missed calls on his phone that he needs to deal with. when he shrugs his jacket on, it does, in fact, smell like you. it might be enough to keep him calm the rest of the day.

“yeah, of course. well.. i’ll go start the laundry.” a vision of you peeling off your—his—clothes plagues his mind momentarily. “i’ll see you later?” you say, smiling hesitantly. 

and without thinking too much about it, andrew comes up close to you, leans in a little awkwardly, and kisses your forehead.

“i’ll see you later.” he leaves you there in his shirt and socks, blinking stupidly at the door. 

+

andrew does come back for dinner. you make an attempt at chicken parm at lena’s request, which really just turns out to be a sort of chicken parm-casserole situation, but lena likes it and the garlic bread tastes good, so you will call it a win for now.

while you’re simmering sauce and frying the cutlets, your mind flicks through everything you know about lena’s uncle. he’d never once been anything but nice to you—nice is one way to put it. polite is another. courteous, appropriate, reserved. 

one night you had been waiting for him so you could leave, and he’d come home with lena’s other uncles. you had introduced yourself and smiled nicely, and when you left and gotten into your car, it hadn’t turned on. you remember debating if you should go back inside or just call triple a and wait, but somehow, andrew had known something was wrong. he had come out a few minutes later, told you that he would drive you home while his brother stayed at home and that he’d be back in a minute. 

he’d dropped you off at home and told you he’d come get you in the morning. and you had slept anxiously that night, wondering what was wrong with your car and how much of a disturbance it would be to andrew to come get you. 

but after the two of you had dropped lena off at school—again, disturbingly domestic—he brought you back to the house. and without any words at all, he worked on your car while you sat and watched. you held a flashlight when he needed it, and he said it shouldn’t happen again when he was done. 

and you guess that’s the kind of man andrew cody is.

true to his word, andrew comes home in time to eat dinner with you and lena. after dinner, since it’s friday, you let her have a brownie and a half, the ones you’d made earlier that day. you have one too and you offer one to andrew, but he shakes his head, and you’re only mildly disappointed.

you haven’t been home, so you’re wearing one of the dresses from the wrong overnight bag you’d brought here. (your disappointment goes away when you notice that he hasn’t stopped staring at your exposed thighs since the minute he walked through the door.)

lena watches a cartoon before bed and you try to clean up the rest of the kitchen, but it’s hard, since andrew’s done most of the leg-work already. he tucks lena in and you gather your belongings—and true to your word, you did laundry and put his clothes back in the exact place you found them. 

(you did steal another pair of socks, but you hardly think he minds now. he kissed you goodbye this morning like he was actually your husband, or something, and every minute you spend in this house washing dishes and scrubbing counters next to him is not helping. he stares at the straps of your dress like he could slip them off your shoulder with his mind, like it’s the only thing he’s thinking about. you don’t mind.) 

“she’s out,” he says, coming back into the living room. you’re sitting on the couch, knees tucked to your chest while you change the channel to one of those documentaries you’ve been so fond of recently. you turn to smile at andrew and he comes and takes a seat next to you. 

“that’s good. i can go soon.” but you make no effort to move, staring at the screen in front of you. this one is about sea-life, shades of blue flooding ahead of you both. 

“you can stay,” andrew says, quiet like always. “if you want.” his voice is deep and gravelly, and the words he says scratch an itch somewhere deep inside of you, and the relief is visible on your body. you sink a little further into the sofa, knees falling next to andrew’s, thighs touching. 

“if that’s okay with you.” you whisper it, as if saying it too loudly might make the entire idea crack open and fall apart.

you two stay like that for a while. you don’t know when, but andrew swings an arm around your shoulder, and you rest your head against his chest, collapsing into his comfortable grip. you can hear his heart beating, can feel every breath he takes. his hand brushes the top of your shoulder every time you breath, and his other hand is clasped with yours. you watch schools of fish and pods of dolphins, and you think that any other night, you could fall asleep like this. 

“andrew?” you ask, still staring straight ahead. you brush your fingers over his knuckles like you had done last night, and you can feel his hand tense under your touch, until it finally relaxes. “do you want to go to bed?” 

“yeah, kid,” he says. “let’s go to bed.” 

and you’ll be damned if the domesticity doesn’t kick you in the stomach, sucker punch you in the chest and knock all the wind out of you. andrew turns the tv off, puts the remote back in the right place. and then he picks you up, and you make a quiet noise of surprise, underestimating him momentarily. you should know better.

one hand wraps around your legs and the other around your back, bridal-style (fitting, you think), and he sets you down on the creaky bed. you worry, how loud it’ll be and how you’ll have to be quiet but then andrew hovers over you, nothing but a tiny lamp brightening up the room, and you lose your train of thought.

“you sure you wanna do this?” he asks, that rough voice again. like you’ve thought about anything else for the last twenty-four hours. you nod quickly, bringing your hands to his chest, and then his arms, fingers tracing the sinewy veins and thrumming muscles up and down on both sides. his eyes shut while you do it, breaths getting heavy and deep. but you keep going—it’s only fair. you’ve only thought about it a million times. 

“does that feel good?” you whisper, and he lets out a quiet, almost painful groan.

“y-yes,” and you smile, fingers moving on their own while you lean in for the kiss you’ve been waiting for. 

andrew’s mouth is hot, and his kisses are like fire. as soon as your lips touch, he pins you all the way down, his body weight on top of yours. he kisses you the same way he had held your hand last night, the same way he held you on the couch, like you’ll slip away if he stops for even a second. your lips start to ache, but you moan quietly into his mouth, letting him swallow them while you still stroke his arms. one day, you’ll crawl into his lap and play with his hands until he’s sick of you, but today, you need to feel him. 

you can’t do much from your position, but you can wrap your legs around his waist, one hand going towards his chest to pull at his shirt. he takes it off in one motion, yanking the fabric at the back until it comes off, messing up his hair while he pulls it. your free hand goes there, running through his hair again. you use it to steady yourself, gaining leverage while he keeps kissing you like there’s nothing else for him to do. like his life depends on it. he thinks it just might.

“an-andrew,” you get out in gasps, moving your mouth away for a second. “i need to breathe,” you pant, but he doesn’t stop, kisses your cheek and your jaw and buries his face in your neck. you feel the skin there between his lips, then his teeth, and you grip hard on his arm while he keeps going. you want him to keep going, you want to see the marks he leaves tomorrow and every other day. you want everyone to look at you and know that he’s the one who left them. and you think your wish is about to come true.

your fingers let go of his arms and he groans against your skin—there’s no words but you know he didn’t want you to stop. instead you guide them to both sides of his face, staring up at him and then bringing him back in for another kiss. you think you’d be perfectly content to do this forever, that you could spend hours, days, weeks in bed kissing andrew cody. that you’d be stupid to ever leave this bed, leave this house, when there’s a man here who kisses you like each touch of your lips is a prayer, like he’s here to worship. 

he’s not hesitant anymore, not wondering if you’re going to pull away and walk out and ask to pretend this never happened. you keep your hands on his face, and then work down to his jaw and neck, clasping your arms around to keep him in place. 

and his mind is empty. he thinks he should know what to do with you, with your labile body flush against his, all the things he’s been thinking about for the last months, if not at least what he was thinking since this morning. you’re still in your little dress, one of the thin straps fallen over your shoulder and dangling on the skin of your upper arm. he pulls away and you whine, another noise he wishes he could capture somehow. it’s a melody, one he wants to keep hearing. 

you wish he hadn’t stopped the kiss, and you expect him to lean right back in after you both catch your breath, but he doesn’t. andrew’s hovering over you, eyes fixated on your shoulder, staring intently at the strap of your dress. 

“andrew?” you whisper, the hand on his neck rubbing the tense skin there, wondering if you could get your kiss back. “is something wrong?”

his lovely eyes flicker up to you, staring while you swallow and wait patiently. maybe you’d been too eager, maybe he was having regrets—after all, you’re the nanny and he’s the dad and maybe you’d been too presumptuous in assuming that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him—

“no. nothing’s wrong.” you sigh a tiny breath of relief, it comes out before you even notice. but andrew is nothing if not perceptive, and he wraps his hand around your back and lays you back on his bed. 

“why did you stop?” you question, flustered and embarrassed as the words come out, sounding like a spoiled child. but you suppose you had been spoiled these last few hours, getting everything you wanted—his hot touch, breathless kisses, the ability to finally see what the veins on his arms feel like under your palm. 

he doesn’t answer your question, just flicks his eyes back to your shoulder. and then he leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the end of your collarbone, tracing more kisses down through the length of your shoulder, stopping when he reaches the skimpy cotton of your dress. you take deep breaths, watching it happen in front of you. he repeats the same with the other side, pulls the strap down like he’s unfolding a gift, kisses your skin like you’re his present. and you think you are.

there’s nothing between you two except your thin dress, and you pull on it eagerly, trying to get it off, when his hands come and stop on top of yours.

“you’ll rip it,” andrew says, fingers going towards the zipper in the back, undoing it slowly.

“i don’t care,” breathless, eager, unable to wait even another minute to get what you want. he pulls the zipper all the down, your dress falling off as your shrug out of it. 

and you want another kiss, you want his touch, you want something, anything—but all you get is andrew staring at your naked body. and you think somehow this is worse than anything else, anticipation burning in your belly painfully. your thighs feel sticky and sore and your underwear is soaked through. and all he’s done is kiss you. 

“you’re perfect,” he says quietly, and you feel your entire face burn hot. you don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before—and you know how andrew is. he doesn’t lie, he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. 

you tilt your head up, pressing your lips to his for a moment, a soft kiss in contrast to the ones from earlier.

“so are you,” and you kiss him again, smiling against his mouth. he feels it, though he doesn’t smile back. and when he pulls away, he looks down at you, naked and willing in his bed, smiling up at him and telling him he’s perfect, when you don’t even know half the monster he is. “you are,” you repeat, watching andrew’s eyes as he thinks a million thoughts in his head, carries a million burdens on his shoulders. “even if you don’t believe me. i think you’re perfect.” 

you feel cheesy saying it, though you know there isn’t another man in the world who needs to hear it more. you can hear him make a noise of protest, like he doesn’t think you mean it, and incredibly desperate for him to believe you, you sit up.

your hands go to sturdy shoulders while you try to get him to move, until he’s sitting back against the headboard and you can crawl onto his lap. he’s silent, watching you as you do it, exposed body flush against his skin, and yet, you don’t feel scared. you don’t feel embarrassed, or worried. you just want to make him feel good.

you start with a kiss to his jaw. andrew’s body tenses under yours, the slightest bit of contact making him groan and buck up, his hands tight on the soft skin of your waist to keep you both steady. you work your way down to his neck, pressing kisses everywhere in your path. 

“do you want to know what i’ve thought about you?” you ask, though you don’t wait for an answer. you kiss down his chest, stopping at the strong muscles of his chest and the old bruises and scars that cover some of them. “i thought that you’re so good at taking care of your family.” you move down to his abs, more kisses, hearing more noises from andrew that you never would have thought he would make for you. he takes shuddering breaths, not replying to you but grunting from pleasure while you keep going. “i thought that you’re so good to me. that i don’t have to worry since i know i can always come to you.” you think of your car and the money he gives you and how you woke up in bed despite falling asleep on the couch. 

finally you make your way to the waistband of his jeans, undoing the belt with surprisingly steady hands. he reaches down, his hands covering yours for a moment, but you stare up at him with your glassy eyes, not even pulling the entire belt off, just enough to get you what you need—what you want. and then you undo his zipper, tug down his boxers, and take his girthy length into your hand, stroking up and down while still staring up at him. 

“can i take care of you, andrew?” and you don’t realize how it must sound to him, his head thudding back onto the pillow. you press a gentle kiss to his leaking tip, both hands wrapped around his dick and stroking while you wait for your answer. 

“y-yes, yes-” and you don’t wait any longer, taking as much of andrew into your mouth as you can fit. you drive your mouth up and down, your hands twisting around the base, everything wet and warm and sticky from your spit. and you think you would do this forever, that you would do this everyday if you could hear the noises he makes and how his body takes the pleasure you give him. you gag around him, feeling his hand snake into your hair, pulling you off gently. you smile up at him, though you’re sure you look like a mess, hot tears running down your cheeks and lips shiny and wet. 

but you don’t stop—licking up and down until you bring him back into your mouth. you can feel how embarrassingly wet you are right now, can feel yourself leaking onto your thighs and the sheets, wanting friction as badly as you wanted to make andrew feel good right now. and then you hear it—andrew’s moan, louder than any of the other noises and full and from the chest. he bucks up into your mouth and you take it, ready to hear what he sounds like when he finishes, when he pulls you off of him. 

“andrew—” you whine, as though you were the one about to come. he pulls you up, naked bodies pushed against each other, and kisses you until you feel light-headed.

“not until you do,” he murmurs, and you feel dizzy all over again.

“but i’m not done,” still eager to kiss the rest of his body and tell him how good he is, until he starts to believe you. you wrangle out of his loose grip, knowing full well if he wanted to stop, he could have. he could pin you down and do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t be able to fight him, a thought that makes you feel like you’re going to faint. but you resume quickly, starting at his shoulders—stopping to admire all the sunspots spattered there—and starting your journey again, working down his bicep and to his freckled forearm, the ones you stared at whenever the opportunity presented itself, the one you thought about all the time.

andrew doesn’t know about that, and you’re not sure you can bear to tell him. it feels too revealing, despite how you’re naked on top of him, your breasts pressed against him and wet pussy on top of his hard, leaking dick. but sure—that’s what you get nervous about. 

you stop and trace all the veins with your fingers, feeling him pulse underneath you, repeating on both sides. he’s got his head tilted back, soft groans filling the empty space between you as you keep going. if they’re this sensitive for him, you can only imagine what it would feel like for you, especially the one leading down to the middle of his wrist—and then the words slip out before you can realize you had said them out loud.

your face goes hot again. he looks up at you a little confused, and you have to stop yourself from collapsing and burying your face into the pillow next to you.

“andrew?” you ask, shy and embarrassed and yet not stopping yourself at all. 

“you… you like my arms?” he says, and you feel your face heat up.

but so many things have happened already that you couldn’t have even dreamt about twenty-four hours ago, so you think it’s worth a shot. (that’s a lie. you have dreamt about this, so many times that you’ve woken up in your bed covered in a cold sweat, that you’ve burned through a vibrator and ruined pillows imagining what it would be like to rub yourself against his veiny arms. you guess you’re about to find out). 

your fingers trace the length of them again.

“i like everything about you,” you say quietly, understanding just how silly you sound. “but we don’t have to do anything.” you try to cover your tracts, worried you’ve just messed up the incredible time you’ve been having so far littering his body with kisses and feeling butterflies in your cunt from the fact that andrew will be inside of you soon. 

“how would you-” andrew starts, and you watch him carefully as he gets out the next few words. “do it? how?” and it’s just cut and dry way he speaks, though it’s really going to your head (and other places) right now. 

“well, i-”

“show me.” oh. 

you feel yourself pulse and throb in response to his words. even below you, you can still feel how hard andrew is. you try to start positioning yourself, but you must be moving too slowly for him, and you feel his hand on your ass, grabbing you and pushing you up to his chest, face to face. he lays his arm next to you, watching your naked body as you try to balance yourself between it, his free arm on your hip, keeping you steady. 

when you lower yourself, just an inch or two, just until you feel the ridge of his forearm and you can decide what to do after realizing that you are, in fact, doing this, andrew curses under his breath.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he can feel it. feel you, on his arm, leaking, for him. you take a deep breath, pressing your hands against his chest to keep your balance, moving your hips up and down slowly. and your eyes flutter shut because fuck, if it isn’t better than every fantasy you’ve ever had.

you hadn’t known that your pathetic attempts to recreate this at home would have never lived up to the real thing, and now you realize you’ll never be able to go back to anything else but andrew, that no one else could make you feel this way. months of pent-up desire leave your body as you rock yourself against him, finally getting the stimulation you’ve been craving.

when you open your eyes, just for a second, you see andrew, his eyes glued to where your pussy meets his arm, his breaths heavy and deep, like he wouldn’t look away from the sight before him for anything.

and then you feel the veins rub against your clit, and your eyes roll back into your head. you keep going, trying to muffle your moans and sighs, but you can’t get the image out of your head—andrew staring at you, like he wanted this as much as you’ve wanted it, like he needs to see you cum like this. you start going faster, the friction and the slide from your juices making it easier and the veins rubbing at you just the right way—

he leans in, putting one of your peaked nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, before letting go and repeating the same with the other one. but it’s really when andrew starts talking that you’re pulled over the edge, his hand hot on your back.

“please,” he says, and you feel yourself falling into it, hanging onto every raspy word, so much better than you could have ever dreamed, “-i-i need you to cum for me. i need to feel you, i need to see it, please-”

and you do. you always listen to andrew, all the white-hot tension wound up in your belly releasing, flooding your entire body with the relief you’ve been wanting all night. your body tightens up, stopping, but he moves you with the huge hand on your hip, makes you rub on him all through it, pulling your body like you’re a toy for him.

your mind is empty while your toes curl and uncurl, thighs aching and sore in this position. andrew ushers you towards him, and you collapse on his chest, heaving and sweaty and tired—and the realization hits you that he hasn’t even been inside of you yet.

he kisses you while he has you trapped in his arms, your eyes shut as you breathe him in, moan into his mouth and let him swallow it. 

“y-your arm,” you get out, realizing you’re not speaking in coherent sentences. “i’m sorry-”

“why?” he asks, and you shut up instantly. “didn’t know you liked them that much.” 

he laughs quietly, a sound you have only heard a few times. you laugh against his chest for a moment, before pulling him in for another kiss. this time, it deepens, and he gets you on your back in front of him before he pulls away. you stare up at him, mind empty and chest heaving, seeing how his eyes stay on your tits, and you reach up, putting your hands on his chest while he hovers over you.

“it might hurt,” he says, and you feel your entire body tighten, your walls clench at his words. there’s nothing but truth behind his statement—it’s not meant to be arrogant or boastful, he’s warning you. it’s going to hurt, you know it is—you could barely fit half of him in your mouth and it took you both hands to be able to comfortably stroke him.

but the way he says it elicits a fire in you, and suddenly you need him now, no matter how much it hurts. 

“i don’t care, andrew, please,” you beg, staring up at him. he still hovers, licking his lips and staring at your how tits bounce while you beg him to fuck you—a thought that he cannot process, even with you splayed out in front of him. he brings his arms out, fingers teasing your sensitive nipples until you’re covering your own mouth to avoid being too loud and you think you’re going to black out. (even in the dim light you can see the shine on his forearm from you, and the memory of it takes over your mind like a twister.) 

“i have to stretch you out first.” the words possess your body like a demon. andrew takes your knees and spreads them apart, and no matter how hard you try to close them, you can’t compete against him. when he slides in one huge finger, your eyes roll back. he slips in so easily, the noise is obscene. the second finger goes in just as quickly, but there’s more resistance. two of his fingers are at least three of yours (if not more, you think, and then you want to faint again). the stretch is delicious, your pulsing walls realizing that this has been what you’ve been craving all along. that no toys or pillows or fingers of your own could ever compare.

when he slips a third finger in, he doesn’t change the pace. just keeps pushing them in and out of you like you’re a toy he’s testing the limits with, seeing how much you can take before you break. there’s no instructions for you besides to sit back and take it—and your toes curl and your head spins at how good he feels. the stretch hurts, but you want it so badly, you hear yourself crying out and saying incoherent things. you think you see andrew smile from where he is, watching your cunt suck his fingers in, his entire hand coated in your juices.

and when he hovers over you, bringing his tip to your entrance and prodding against you for a moment, you think you’re in heaven. he’s so flushed, tips of ears and his cheeks pink, sweat coating his body, just like yours. you can only imagine how hard he is, how you’ll get to feel how hard he is soon enough. his eyes stay at your pussy, pushing in, just barely, but you need more. you bring your hands to his arms, holding onto him while he slides in, and when you feel him push all the way in—so much bigger than you could have imagined, three of his fingers is nothing compared to this, nothing, nothing, nothing—he’s on top of you and kissing you. 

whatever noises you make are tuned out—your ears are ringing and you can’t hear anything besides andrew’s grunts and moans as they come into your mouth. you keep kissing him, pulling on his lower lip and feeling his tongue on yours, but your entire body goes slack when he starts on a brutal pace, pulling all the way out and slamming into you. the bed is creaky, and the only noise besides it is the obscene one—the squelch of your soaking wet cunt taking andrew all the way, the repetitive slap of his skin meeting yours. you feel everything—the pressure of his hands while he holds you incredibly tightly, the fullness in your cunt that makes it feel like you can’t breathe.

and then andrew kisses your lips and makes a noise that makes you leak even more, and you know you’ll be just fine.

“i-i want-” he starts, and you feel him slow down the pace slightly.

“please, andrew,” you beg, and he resumes, fucking into you with an intensity that reminds you how badly he wants you, how long he’s wanted this. it reminds you of every time you caught him staring, every time you smiled at him wondering what he was thinking. and now you think you know—maybe he was thinking about something like this.

“i want another one,” he says into the skin of your neck, feeling him lick the sweat there and kiss the skin. “i want to feel it while i’m inside-” and god if you can’t comply. you want to do every single thing he tells you for the rest of your life, you don’t want to make another decision without andrew cody. 

he changes the position, pulling out of you for a second and making you whine again. (spoiled, you think, he’s spoiled me for anyone else forever.) he holds both of your knees up and spreads them wide and wraps your arms around them, keeping them in place. and then he slides back inside of you in one swift movement, making your eyelids flutter shut. he doesn’t get right on top of you, leaving space between you that makes it impossible to lean in for a kiss, and you keep whining, impossibly and irrationally angry that you can’t kiss him, wondering why he wants you like this, when you feel his fingers circle your clit slowly—then quickly.

your head falls back onto the pillow. andrew can feel you pulsing around him, walls clenching every time he rubs your sensitive clit, and that’s what he wants, that’s what he needs, wants to feel you cum around his dick and squeeze him even tighter than you are right now. wants to see how you look completely fucked out, wants to see if you can give him a third. (he’ll get it, he decides, later. he’ll give you a chance to breathe, get you water after this. all the things he would do to take care of you, just like how you deserve, how a husband would take care of his wife.) 

because at the end of the day, isn’t that what you two basically already are? you couldn’t be a girlfriend, because you have to get comfortable around a girlfriend. 

no, he thinks, watching your fucked-out, flushed body take him like you were made for it. you already know him, know what he likes and doesn’t like, know how to make him feel good like you had been inside of his head already. you have been inside. you’re all he thinks about. that’s a wife, that is something that is forever, what the two of you have. 

he doesn’t realize how hard he’s going, how fast, or how you’ve been squealing with your entire body tensing while he was stuck in his thoughts about you. this time when you finish, it explodes through you, the electric current staring from your core and spreading to every finger and toe. you jolt, legs shaking and head heavy, the after effect rolling through you while andrew keeps fucking you, keeps going even though he should probably stop. you’re incoherent, writhing and crying and feeling completely numb and like your entire body is burning all at once. 

and when you blink open your watery eyes at andrew, smile sweetly and reach out for a kiss, one that he happily gives you, you say it quietly.

“i love you, andrew.” and you feel his thrusts stutter, his body weight almost collapsing on you. you feel andrew cum, feel it filling you up while you listen to his quiet moans and run your hands over his tense muscles, saying sweet things that he can barely understand in this state. 

he rolls over minutes later, not pulling out until you were done kissing him. the room is filled with nothing but your heavy breaths. you need a shower, and you need to sleep.

you curl up on andrew’s chest like you had been on the couch what felt like a lifetime ago. you play with his fingers and he runs his other hand up and down the expanse of your arm. you can hear birds outside—and you know you need to get up soon, but you can’t find any words. 

“you think that was enough?” andrew asks, and you look up at him with a confused expression. he looks at you with so much sincerity you feel like crying. your andrew.

“what do you mean?” you ask quietly, still not sure what he’s even talking about. your head is spinning and your eyes are tired—every part of you is tired.

“we can go again after you get some sleep. it might take more than once.”

“andrew?”

“you don’t have to worry about it. i’ll figure it out. i won’t stop until i put a baby in you.”

♡ thank you for reading

[jarofstyles]

Teach Me?

Hello love bugs, we've got a huge one shot here. I see a lot of writing where the guy helps the girl out with inexperience, but I thought I'd like to write something where he's the one asking for help. I had a lot of fun putting this together so I hope you guys like it. I may do more but I have a lot of other stuffed planned but let me know your thoughts!

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WC- 12.3k

Warnings- mentions of insecurity, anxiety, oral, soft!Dom H, soft!Dom Y/N, switchy vibes but mostly Dom!H, Y/N pokes fun at him for being nerdy but she loves it,

"Hey..." Harry began casually, wiping his hands on a towel after washing. Her best friend had invited himself over for dinner, which meant he was going to do the dishes. It was an unspoken rule of their friendship. If you invite yourself, you clean up. But seeing as Y/N was the one who cooked nine out of ten times, it had become a normal to see him at her kitchen sink. Her eyes peeked up at him from her phone, giving him a look to continue. "Can I ask you something? It's a kinda...weird request." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking at her with an attempt at puppy dog eyes. He wanted something and it made her narrow her eyes. 

“I’m not going to the convention with you again, Har. It’s not my scene, I told you. I’ll watch any series of movies until our brains leak out our ears but if I have to sit through panels and Q&As where they ask what the characters favorite food is again I may lose my mind.” She knew it was coming up… but apparently that wasn’t his point. Thank God.

 "No! No. Adam is going with me this year. Rude. But besides that��” It made her a lot more curious as to what it could be because he did genuinely look nervous. “It's a weird question, actually." He sat down next to her on the couch, twisting his hands together. "And you can totally say no... but..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Would you... maybe..." The hesitance had her sitting up a little straighter, raising her brow higher to urge him forward. "God..." He muttered softly, trying to find the words. "You promise not to judge?" He saw her raise an eyebrow. "I mean it. No making fun of me." He watched as she slowly nodded, waiting.

“I make fun of you for a lot of things, but if you’re asking me not to, I won’t. Are you okay?” Y/N asked softly, unused to his behavior. He was usually playful and could take any joke, so it wasn’t exactly like him to ask her not to do it. 

"I'm okay." He assured her, but still had the nervous look in his eyes. "It's just... I've recently realized... kinda an embarrassing thing about myself." He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don’t think… I don’t think I’m actually making girls finish properly when I hook up with them. At least not every time. And I feel like shit about it.”

That was a surprise to her. Harry had the whole hot and nerdy thing going on, and he pulled plenty. Not that he always attempted or took them up on the offers, but he’d had a few girls he had hooked up with that she knew of. Usually he kept pretty quiet about it, but that didn’t bother her. Y/N had assumed a lot about him because… He did have some big dick energy going on. He had really nice hands too. The idea of him being unskilled in bed didn’t feel like it was right, but she was hearing him out. “What’s making you think this?” She asked curiously. “Did someone say something?”

"No, no one's ever said anything. Not to my face." His face flushed slightly pink as he shifted again, trying to get comfortable. "I just... well. Sometimes I noticed they'd tense up or seem kinda disappointed later. Like they were expecting something else. More? I dunno. And they don’t usually text me again, which is fine and all but I hate thinking I let someone down. It’s embarrassing." He avoided looking at her while he talked, staring at his fidgeting fingers instead. "I don't want to be one of those guys who only thinks about themselves. That’s the last thing I want to do." He trailed off, clearly embarrassed. So unlike him that it made her heart hurt a little bit. Harry was a happy guy and seeing him not like that was like seeing a wet puppy in the street. She had to fix it. 

“Well the fact that you even care at all is really good. I know, the bar is on the floor but, unfortunately a lot of men don’t give a shit if we finish or not.” Y/N knew plenty of men- had experienced them herself- that didn’t care if it felt good for her. They wanted a quick nut and go. Harry never seemed to be the type. Honestly, he was very thorough in most things and she’d assumed that would properly bleed over to sex.

 “Wanting to be better is half the battle. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. The first time I sucked someone off I gagged really awfully, the sound made him go soft.” She laughed at her own bad time. “We all start somewhere.”

He laughed softly at her story, feeling a little more at ease knowing he wasn’t the only one. Y/N was far more experienced and open about being a little freak, so it felt better to know even she had some weirder experiences. It wasn’t just him. "Yeah, I can imagine." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Gagging on dick is not the most pleasant experience, is it?" He turned to look at her, his eyes serious again. "But, um, thanks for listening and all that. I just... I want to be good at it. For them, and for myself." He looked down at his hands again, picking at his fingernails nervously. He needed to paint them again so he would stop doing it. His pink polish was chipped. "And that's why I was wondering…” He bit his lip, his heart racing as he tried to work up the nerve to ask his best friend a very personal favor. The most personal you could probably get.

 "Would you... would you maybe let me practice on you?” The silence lingered for a moment longer than he was okay with, panicking slightly as he continue. “I promise I'll listen to everything you say, and we can stop anytime you want. We don’t even have to! You can say no, obviously.” The man was babbling as he tried to untwist his tongue. “But I really trust you and I think you'd give me good feedback. Honest feedback." He looked up at her with pleading eyes, his cheeks flushed a darker pink that she hadn’t seen before- all the way up to his ears.

“Me?” That… was not at all what she had expected. To be fair she hadn’t been sure what to expect but that would probably be lower on the list. “You want to… practice eating pussy or something, on me? I just want to make sure I heard you correctly.” Because she sure as hell didn’t know if this was some sort of dream or delusion.

Harry nodded quickly, his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. "Yeah, you. I mean, if you're comfortable with it. I know it's a really fucking weird request and all, I swear I’m not trying to make anything weird with us but... you're my best friend, and I trust you. And I know you'd be honest with me." Y/N was known for being honest even if it wasn’t the most appropriate time to be. He looked at her with those big, hopeful eyes, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. "Please? I promise I'll do everything I can to make it good for you, if you let me. I just really want to get better at this."

It could fuck up the friendship. Y/N knew that, because it was every sort of cliche thing that tells you do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your best friend. But… it had been a while. Harry didn’t ask much of her besides her dinners and to go to some events with him so he wasn’t alone. He listened to her rants and brought her food when she was hungry and didn’t want to go out. He made her bed for her sometimes just because he was near and tidy like that. He swept the kitchen after dinner. He bought tickets to movies and concerts on his card and told her to pay him back whenever she could. He protected her if people acted weird at the rare chance they went out to the bar. Harry was a really fucking good friend, the best she’d ever had. 

She also couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t think he had a spectacularly pretty mouth and even better hands. They had always been really nice. Soft, long fingers, big palm. The tattoos that trickled down… Fuck. She was going to say yes. Fuck it. “Okay. I guess we can, but I’ve got some rules.”

He blinked, surprised but trying to hide it, his heart racing faster at her surprisingly quick answer. "Rules?" He nodded, leaning forward slightly, completely focused on her words. "Of course. I mean... I'll do anything you say." That came out a bit too smooth, and they both caught the double meaning. He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual and failing miserably. "What are they?" His eyes were fixed on her, his hands folded in his lap to stop them from shaking nervously.

“I mean, I’m being a little dramatic. It’s only a few.” She laughed, leaning back on the couch. “One being we don’t tell anyone. Our friends are already weird about how much time we spend together. Two, you don’t touch me and then another woman. If you find someone else that’s completely fine, but I don’t want her germs and shit on me.” That was not something she liked at all. “If you’re practicing on me, it’s me. I won’t fuck around with other people either, but I don’t fuck with STIs and all that.” It was doubtful he would need to be reminded of that. 

“I’m assuming this is going to be a couple times because the way you get good at stuff is practicing. I won’t complain if I get a few orgasms out of this.” She shrugged as if this was a normal thing to be discussing. Best friends having sex.  “But the last one is you don’t make things weird after you’re all good with your skills. Don’t make stuff weird.”

"Those are..." He cleared his throat, trying to process everything she had just said. "Those are actually very reasonable rules." He nodded, making sure to emphasize each point so she know he heard her loud and clear. "One: Not telling our friends is smart. Two: Of course, no cheating. We aren’t dating but I’m a one woman type of man. My mother raised me better than that. You know she would kill me." He managed a small smile. "Three: I, uh, plan on practicing. A lot, if you let me." His eyes lingered just a moment too long on her lips, then quickly flicked away.

“Good.” Harry was efficient in most things. It’s exactly why she understood how much it probably bothered the hell out of him to not really be able to get a woman off, or so he thinks. She was just being a good friend, right? helping him out. “So walk me through what you usually do when you bring someone home. We start there. I can tell you if something you’re doing is weird.”

He swallowed nervously, trying to collect his thoughts as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Well, uh... usually I'd start by kissing them, ya know? Get them a little worked up before moving down." He gestured vaguely with his hands, as if physically trailing kisses down an imaginary body. "Then I'd kinda... kiss around the area, maybe use my fingers first to make sure they're wet and all..." He trailed off, wincing as he realized how clinical it sounded when he said it out loud.

“That sounds decent, but kind of like a routine.” Harry was like that, she knew, but sex wasn’t. “Not all women are the same, though. We’re all different. You don’t experiment at all to see where her sensitive spots are? Do you keep kissing to the lips and her cunt?” The question was blunt, but she usually was.

"Well... No, actually. I kinda just do the same thing every time." He ran a hand through his hair nervously, realizing how basic that sounded compared to how she spoke about sex. "And yeah, I guess I do stop kissing once I get down there. Why?" He was listening intently, genuinely curious about her approach. For all his perceived experience with women, he was suddenly feeling very inexperienced in this one area. Something about the way she talked about sex was... different. Confident, like it was no big deal.

“Because women are sensual creatures, Harry. Sure, we have similar biological things that happen but the way we get horny is with our minds. Teasing a little. Dirty talk, if you’re good at it, ease into it. Kissing places that aren’t just the obvious.” Shifting to face him, she grabbed one of his hands and put it on her shoulder. He was definitely nervous. It was a little cute. “I’ll give you a cheat sheet for me. I really like to be kissed under my ear, over my throat. Sometimes a lick or a suck. A bite, if I’m in the mood. I like to be kissed over my stomach, tops of my breasts, inner thighs, hips. They aren’t necessarily obvious, but the exploration is nice.” 

Taking his hand, she moved it to her neck and then dragged it down past her tits, down her stomach to the waistband of her joggers. “You can have a general path, but you need to be comfortable deviating from it when that’s what she responds to.”

"Fuck..." The curse slipped out quietly as his breath caught, noticing how comfortable she was with his hand on her body. His fingers lingered at her waistband, acutely aware of the sensitive skin just inches beneath. "I never really thought about it like that. I always just went straight for the pussy." He cleared his throat, realizing how crude that sounded coming out loud. "I mean..." She chuckled at his flustered state, finding it endearing. "So you're saying I should take my time? Like, really tease her out?" He moved his hand slightly, fingertips brushing the bare skin of her lower abdomen just beneath her shirt hem. "Kiss other places, see what makes her squirm?" 

His gaze flickered down to where his hand rested, then back up to meet her eyes. There was a new spark of understanding there, like pieces clicking into place. "And if I find somewhere she likes? I should... explore that?" 

“Yeah.” Her stomach had jumped as he moved his hand but didn’t say anything about it. “Every person is different. I’m sure you have places you like to be touched that people haven’t tried yet either. Being in tune with your body and hers, being able to read the cues that’s what could be your strength.” It was something a lot of men didn’t bother to take into consideration.

"Like, if she makes a certain noise or tenses up?" He was genuinely intrigued now, his mind racing with possibilities. "What if she pulls my hair or digs her nails into my back?" He shifted his hand lower, fingers splaying out on her stomach curiously. "Does that mean she likes it?" He was so focused on the hypotheticals that he almost missed the way his hand resting on her stomach made her stomach muscles twitch slightly beneath his palm.

“Yes, exactly that. Sometimes you’ll be able to feel her pulse if you’re holding her wrist, or.. Well, if you’ve got your hand around her throat. We’ll talk about proper choking another day, but you can see if her pulse jumps from that.” His hands were perfect for that, honestly, and she shouldn’t let her mind wander. Nope. “The noises she makes, if she pulls you further in, bucks her hips, those are all good signs. Not everyone is extremely vocal, but checking in to make sure she likes it, if she wants you to give more, it can help.

"Checking in?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to wrap his head around the idea. "You mean like... asking her if she likes it?" He shifted his hand lower still, fingertips brushing the hem of her joggers. "Like, 'is this okay?' Or 'do you like this?'" He could see how that might be helpful, especially with quieter partners. "But wouldn't that ruin the moment?" He looked up at her, genuinely curious and seeking approval.

“You don’t have to ask in such a sterile way. You can just say something like ‘does that feel good?’ or ‘that’s nice, baby?’ and see her response. You’ve got a nice voice, Har. Use it.” She gave him the compliment easily. He did need a bit of confidence boosting, that much she could already tell. “Checking in shouldn’t ruin the moment. It’s safe, it’s a sign of a good partner. You’ll figure out how to check in in a less… abrupt way.”

"Right... fuck me." He muttered under his breath, actually feeling slightly embarrassed about how little thought he'd put into this before. "I've been a clueless fuck, haven't I?" He sighed, running his fingers along her waistband more deliberately now, testing how she responded. His heart stuttered slightly when she complimented his voice."So like..." He traced patterns on her lower stomach with his fingertips, almost unconsciously. “Feels good?” Testing out the way she had suggested.

Y/N swallowed, feeling a bit of a shift. He had seemed to be having a good time touching her stomach, the light tracing on her skin making her heat up a little bit. She wasn’t blind- Harry had most definitely gotten hotter over the years, and he was just attractive in general. Though she hadn’t allowed herself to look at him as anything but the quirky best friend he was, getting to see a different side of him was something she was intrigued by.

 “Mhm.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “See? It doesn’t have to be straight into it. Just touches like that can get a girl wet.” It was starting to get to her, weirdly enough. “Tell me about kissing. How do you usually start it?”

"Kissing..." He trailed off, his mind briefly distracted by the way her skin felt beneath his fingers. "Uh... well. I usually start with a simple peck, just to see if they're into it." His other hand came up to gently tilt her chin, exposing her neck to him. "If they seem like I have the go ahead, I'll press my lips to theirs more firmly- it’s kinda hard to explain with words." Being a little bold, he let his thumb brush over her bottom lip absently as he spoke, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

“Well if you’re going to eat me out, I don’t see why you can’t just show me.” Kissing Harry had not been something she had anticipated actually doing, really ever, but she can’t say she hadn’t thought about it. The man had an incredible mouth. Soft looking lips, deep pink, the cute little birthmark, all of it was appealing- it was just that it wasn't a possibility for her prior. “Show me how you do it with them.”

His thumb brushed her bottom lip again, his breath hitching slightly at the idea of kissing her. It was just an exercise, he reminded himself firmly. This was just a dry run, to help him figure out his technique. But as he slowly leaned in, his heart rate picked up, eyes flicking between her lips and onto her eyes. "Like... this." He whispered hoarsely, sliding his hand back into her hair to tilt her head further. His lips pressed to hers gently, just a soft brush at first to test the waters. His lips were soft and warm against hers, the kiss gentle at first. He waited for her to react, to see if she would pull away or lean into it. As she didn't, he took it as his sign to keep going, slowly increased the pressure, his lips molding to hers in a soft, sweet kiss. 

Feeling emboldened when she began to press her lips back to his, Harry peppered her lips with a series of short, sweet kisses. His lips brushed against hers once, twice, three times in rapid succession, each kiss a little firmer than the last. He could feel her starting to relax into it, her lips softening beneath his own. Encouraged, he let his tongue flick out briefly, a teasing taste before pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction. She tasted like the lemon lime soda she’d had with dinner, a sweet surprise. All of this had been. He hadn’t been sure if she would say yes and if this would potentially make things weird, but thankfully Y/N seemed at least a little receptive to it. His hand remained in her hair, holding her gently as he studied her face for any signs of discomfort or approval. “Okay?”

Y/N knew he would be a good kisser, but he was playing it safe. However, even with the safety still on, she knew he had it in him. He wasn’t as shy as he had been before and that had surprised her a bit when he had gripped her to keep her in place. That had been exceptionally hot. At least to her. “Yeah. You did well.” She cleared her throat to rid herself of the rasp. “You’re playing it safe, though. Here.” 

Swinging her knee over his lap, she pushed him back against the back of the couch so his posture was more relaxed. “You’re stiff. Pun not intended.” She snickered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve got to relax a little bit. I don’t know if it’s just me or you get anxious when you kiss other girls too. The thing you did holding my face still? That was hot. It’s gonna depend on the girl but you seem to have an idea on what to do.” Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she settled her weight on top of him. Hm.. he really had been doing well at the gym. “You okay with me on your lap?”

Harry blinked in surprise, trying to catch up to the fact that she was currently in his lap. Closer than she usually got to him, voluntarily hopping on up. “Y-yes! I mean, yes, please. Go on." His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying his nerves. He wasn’t sure if it was from the unexpected closeness or just the sudden shift in dynamic between them. Her weight felt nice on his lap, but besides a cuddle or two this was definitely the closest they’d ever been. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nervous.”

Y/N nearly cooed. His frown was precious, really. He was precious. Sliding a hand over his jaw, she tilted his head to meet her eyes. “It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s just me. I’m not going to judge you. You asked for my help, and I’m gonna give it to you.” Slipping her fingers in his hair, she made herself familiar with touching him. They hadn’t been super touchy to begin with but she knew Harry liked physical touch. He was clingy with their other friends physically, but he had always respected that Y/N typically wasn’t the type. Now though? It was free game. “You can touch me how you want. Get familiar with me.”

Y/N wasn’t the type to truly judge if you really needed her and he knew that. Hell, that was why he had come to her in the first place- but she was intimidatingly beautiful. It set him off to be even more nervous. His mind briefly wondered if this was how he was in bed- overthinking everything- maybe that was why he didn’t get calls back. 

“Shit.” He muttered softly, then snapped back to attention as she told him to touch her. He wanted to do that, he had always wanted to but Y/N only really liked to be cuddled when drunk. When she was, she would be giggly and happy, hold on to his hand and swing them back and forth, especially when he helped her get into the car. It had always made him feel special, but this? It was a privilege to touch her. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms loosely around her, testing the waters. “Like this?” He spread his fingers out slightly on her back, his thumbs nearly brushing the bottom of her bra strap under her top.

“Yeah, that’s nice.” Leaning into him, she let her fingers run over the rims of his glasses. “These are cute. I like them.” His new glasses suited him. They were a little bit thinner than his old ones and it was a tad bit more modern. She hadn’t been lying to him when she said he had the hot n’ nerdy advantage. “You’ve got really nice hands, Har. Use them.”

He blushed slightly at the compliment on his glasses, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist possessively. "You really think?" He asked softly, tilting his head to the side to give her better access to his face. He liked when she did little things like that, adjusting his glasses or messing with his hair. Maybe it was because he felt touch starved, particularly from her, but the simple brushes of her fingers made him feel that heat in his lower stomach. It was so simple but the air felt a lot thicker than it had before. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves to be more bold as he slowly dragged his hands over her hips.

“Mhm.” She nodded, gently running her nails over his scalp. “See? I’m not too scary.” Though she had to admit that the feeling of his big hands pawing at her and running over her hips and waist made her feel a little bit giddy. Maybe she could attribute it to the fact it really had been a while since she had been touched in a way that wasn’t friendly, but her body liked the way it felt. “You’re being polite, which is nice. But as cute as your little gentleman thing is, I know you want to grab my ass, Harry. You can do it.”

Harry's breath caught as she said that, his eyes darkening slightly behind his glasses. He had definitely been thinking about it, doubted there was anyone who saw it and didn’t want to, but he hadn't wanted to overstep. Hearing her give him permission was like a green light and he couldn't help himself. His hands squeezed her hips before slowly sliding down to grip her ass, his fingers spreading out to knead the soft flesh. "Fuck..." He muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. "You're so soft."

His grip on her ass tightened reflexively as he pulled her more firmly against him, a low groan escaping his lips. The heat of her pressed deliciously against his hardening cock, and he couldn't help but roll his hips slightly, seeking friction. "Shit, Y/N...Sorry. I don't want to get carried away." He breathed, his face flushing darker. Here he was, rock hard with his best friend in his lap, from a little ass grab. It was embarrassing how quickly he had gotten worked up- But God, it felt good.

There was a sigh out of her mouth as she felt him start to relax and do what he wanted to do. This was closer to where she wanted him to get, but she hadn’t expected it to feel as good just being rubbed over his lap. “There you go- it’s okay.” She whispered. “That’s hot. You want to show her that you’re eager for her.” With her grip in his hair, she tugged his head back slightly to look at his pink cheek. “You’re a faster learner, I know. But you remember what I told you? Try kissing my neck. I told you the spots I like.”

His eyes fluttered shut as she tugged on his hair, his throat exposed to her. "Yeah. I can do it. S’long as you feel good, m’happy..." He whispered, his voice rougher than she had ever heard it. Leaning into her touch, he let her guide his face into her neck and followed instructions quickly to press open mouth kisses to her skin. He started at the spot just below her ear, as she had told him about, sucking gently on the soft skin. His hands continued to grab at her ass, pulling her flush against him as he kissed and sucked his way down her neck.

The kisses trailed lower, his lips hot and damp against her neck. Each press of his mouth made chills rise on her skin, his stubble lightly scratching her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. As he sucked gently on a particularly sweet spot, she couldn't help but tip her head to give him better access, a soft gasp escaping her lips. None of this had been expected, but liking his mouth on her skin hadn’t been. Maybe it really was just the fact it had been a while but… it felt better than her last hookup. 

Harry was her friend and she trusted him. She felt safe, and that probably made her feel a lot more comfortable, just as it probably did for him. But having his hands all over her was something her whole body was responding to.  A quick learner, he had realized how much she liked feeling the friction and did something about it. His strong hands gripped her ass harder, pulling her over his lap and letting feel the throb of him through their clothes.

He could feel her getting heavier in his lap, her breath growing shallow as he continued his adoration of her neck. It felt amazing, yes, but he was in a bit of awe. Harry really should have known that Y/N didn’t half ass anything. She was thorough in everything she did- apparently it extended to teaching him how to please a woman. His hands roamed freely as he adjusted, taking a risk in spreading her legs wider over his lap to better fit her between his thighs.

 "Am I doing okay?" He mumbled into her neck, his voice muffled. "Is this warming you up enough? Or should I be doing more?" His fingers flexed on her hips before sliding down, spreading out to rest on her thighs.

“You’re doing good.” The thickness in her throat made her voice a bit raspier, unsure how she had managed to let herself get to this point. It felt really fucking good. His hands strong and so fucking big, splaying over her thighs. The heat of them seeming to radiate through her skin and down to her bones, she wanted to lean into that touch.

 God, she was touch deprived. 

He had done a good job in making her panties damp and it felt almost embarrassing that a little bit of heavy petting and kissing on the neck had her pussy throbbing, but she couldn’t exactly deny it. Lightly rubbing herself against him again to get more of the friction her body was demanding, she closed her eyes and let her head lean back before she admitted it to him. “You’re making me wet.”

His whole body seemed to tense up at her whispered admission, his hands flexing on her as he took a breath. "You are?" He whispered back, his voice not able to contain his surprise. He had hoped he was doing something right- especially after all the apparent failures he’d had- but hearing that she was wet from just his touch and kisses was... something else. He wasn't used to being this effective. His ego swelled slightly, making him bolder. "Can I... touch more?" He asked hesitantly, his fingers inching higher up her thighs. "Can I feel what I’m doing to you?"

His words had her gritting his teeth. Where the fuck did that come from, and why did it made her throb? Letting out a breath through her nose, she opened her eyes to look at him. It shocked her a little, seeing his lips swollen and eyes a little hazy, glasses a tiny bit crooked. He looked disheveled in a way he usually didn’t. Of course he had always been hot but this look in particular, knowing it was caused by her specifically? It fueled her ego too. 

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, clearing her throat. “Yeah, you can. That’s what I’d tell you to do next. You have good instincts.” It was a mystery to her how Harry, who was good at almost everything, had struggled to make a girl cum- but she was the teacher now. “You can slip your hand into the waistband.”

"Fuck. Thank you." Harry muttered under his breath. He couldn't believe he was actually about to touch Y/N intimately, after all these years of being just friends… It was insane. He wasn’t unable to see how insanely fucking hot she was, that had never been an issue. He’d had a few questionable wet dreams about her- but the actual idea of ever touching her hadn’t come up until recently, and he was liking it a bit more than he probably should be for a lesson.

 With trembling fingers, he slowly slipped one large hand down the front of her joggers, sliding it along her stomach until he reached the top of her panties. "Can... can I? Under them?" His breath was warm against her neck as he asked permission, albeit a bit jumbled, waiting for her nod before slowly slipping under the final piece of fabric that kept him from her most intimate place.

At her nod, he released a deep breath through his nose. His heart was racing as he slowly pushed his hand under her panties, the back of his fingers brushing against the soft, damp fabric. He could feel the heat emanating from between her legs, his own body responded accordingly. His cock was pulsing in his briefs, surely starting to make a bit of a mess. "Holy shit." Harry breathed, his voice shaking slightly as he explored her with his hand. His fingers dipped lower, feeling the slickness coating her folds. “You really are fucking soaked.” Tilting his head up with an awed smile, he met her eyes. “I did that t’you?”

“Mhm.” It felt slightly harder to breathe as she looked at his eyes, seeing the pride in his face, feeling his fingers cupping her wet pussy and giving a little squeeze. It had her inhaling sharply, fingers on his shoulder digging into his shirt. “You did. I- I want you to show me what you do when you get to this stage with the girls you hook up with.” It was taking everything in her not to rock against his hand, staying still as she tried to ground herself.

His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to mimic what he thought he had seen in porn or heard from his friends. He had forgotten what to do. Another symptom of his damn nerves taking over. He roughly spread her lips apart, his thumb pressing against her clit as his middle finger pushed inside her soaked pussy. "Shit... I'm... I'm not really sure what to do..." He admitted, his voice shaking as he started to rub her clit in slightly sporadic circles while thrusting his finger inside her. It was clumsy and a bit rough, but he was trying his best.

“Okay- alright. Stop.” Making sure to keep her voice soft and not like she was scolding him, she held his face in her hands. “You’re jumping right into it a bit too fast, Honey.” The nickname fell from her lips a bit too easily but she decided to ignore that. “You need to ease into it. Find a rhythm. Pull your fingers out.” She instructed, gently stroking over his cheekbone. It was obvious he was embarrassed from his flushed cheeks, and she didn’t want that. He wasn’t doing too badly, but he’d asked for a lesson. That’s what she was going to give him.

 “Hey… Look at me.” Tilting his chin up, she gave him a soft smile. “S’okay, Har. You came to me for help. I’m gonna help you. You didn’t do anything inherently wrong.” Still, she could see he felt some type of way about it, and she knew he needed a bit more comforting. Leaning in, her lips pressed against his in a soft peck. It was more intimate than it should have been, but she was again, going to ignore that. “Hi.” Smoothing the skin under his eye, she gave him a giggle. “Okay, so… You’ve got incredible hands. They’re so nice… and I know you can be good with them. So let’s start slow, okay? Do slow circles over my clit with your thumb. Nice n’gentle.”

His shoulders had dropped slightly after her small kiss, ignoring the flutter he’d felt in his chest from it. He hadn't realized how tense he had gotten, like he had failed the test- but this was Y/N. Y/N was safe, she was kind despite how blunt she was, and she was helping him. There was no evidence of her making fun of him in her tone, simply sweet. Unusual, maybe, but it seemed like she knew what she needed. 

"Okay." He mumbled softly, his cheeks slightly less red. Her compliments helped a bit- He had always had confidence issues when it came to this. "Like this?" He asked shyly, his large thumb slowly making small, loose circles over her clit. He was careful to keep his touch gentle like she asked, watching her face for any signs that he was doing it wrong again.

He felt her body tense pleasantly at his touch, a soft exhale escaping her lips. Encouraged by her response, he maintained the slow circles, his thumb brushing over her clit with deliberate gentleness. Her hips gave a tiny involuntary roll against his hand, seeking more of the pleasant friction. Harry's fingers twitched slightly, wanting to increase his pace but remembering her instruction. He resisted the urge, keeping the rhythm maddeningly slow.

“Yeah. That’s so nice.” She whispered. It was experimenting, letting him explore and get the hang of it. “Every woman is different. Some people will want it faster, some will want it rougher, but I like this to start.” She admitted, leaning into him. “Here.” Dragging the cropped top off of her body, she exposed the lacy bralette she had heard good reviews for to him. It was quite nice, holding her tits up in a way she hasn’t expected- but she’d chosen correctly today, unknowing that a man would be able to see it firsthand. “When you’re doing this, you keep kissing her. Licking. Sucking her nipples, if she’s into it.”

His eyes roamed over her bralette-clad breasts, the delicate lace contrasting with her soft, smooth skin. He felt his mouth watering, the urge to taste her growing stronger as he watched them move as she breathed- but thankfully, thank god, she had given the go ahead to touch. To taste. "Okay. I definitely can do that." He murmured, his thumb continuing its slow circles on her clit as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone.

His lips trailed lower, his kisses growing more intentional. The lace of her bralette tickled his lips as he worked his way down. He could see her nipples hardening beneath the fabric, making his mouth water. His thumb continued its steady, slow rhythm on her clit, causing her to shift slightly in his lap. It was surreal to feel her breathing, hear it so close up as he kissed over her pounding heart. 

He was doing this to her. Harry was making her wet, making her squirm. The confidence the breathy moan she let out had him pushing for more. With one hand, he gently pushed the lace down to expose one breast fully, making her gasp softly. His lips immediately found her hard nipple, surrounding it completely and sucking gently.

“Oh, Jesus.” The words were pathetically, a mewl that came from the back of her throat as his hot tongue lapped over her swollen nipple. The suction was light, soft, just like his thumb on her clit- and it was enough to make her feel like she was going insane. “T-That’s really fucking nice.” She praised, raising her hand to card it through his fluffy curls. He must have just washed them, they always looked pretty when he did.

Hearing her moan like that, praising him so freely, sent a jolt straight to his cock. He hummed around her nipple, the vibrations deliberate this time. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud before he switched to sucking harder, desperate to elicit another gorgeous noise from her.

“Yeah- like that.” Rocking her hips slightly into his hand, she pulled his head closed onto her breast. It felt too good, too hot to stop. Yeah, this was a lesson, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy teaching him. “Some girls won’t get much enjoyment out of this. Their nipples aren’t sensitive to it as much. If they aren’t responsive, you can keep it moving- or a-ask them if they want you to keep going.” Her voice was higher in pitch than she had meant for it to be but it wasn’t possible for her to control that right now. “I really like it, though. So it’s doing the job. You can rub my clit a little harder- give it more pressure.”

Her words had him nearly purring around her nipple. The little thrill went up his spine as her hips rolled into his hand, knowing that now he had a decent idea of what he was doing and could feel less nervous about it. Listening to instructions like he had promised he would, Harry added more pressure to his thumb, rubbing it harder over her little bundle of nerves. It was impossible not to feel her getting slicker against his palm, her breast filled his mouth perfectly, his tongue swirling around the peak before sucking it back between his lips. Almost overstimulation for his mind, but he wanted to keep going. He was trying his best to be good with his hands- he really was- But damn. Her body was so responsive.

Y/N wanted to continue this as long as she could. She wanted to feel him get more and more confident with it, but he seemed to have a grasp on it. There would probably be… a few times where they’d get to do this, and if she was honest? If they kept this up, she was going to cum and be too sensitive for his mouth. And by the way he kissed? She wanted to feel his mouth. 

“Mmmm.. Har, Honey.” She whispered, gently tugging his mouth off of her tits with a gentle tug of his hair. “Hi. Hello.” It was stupidly cute, the slightly lost look on his face. “S’okay. You were doing good. A bit too good actually. I just think that we should get to teaching you how to eat pussy. I’ll cum if you keep going.”

He blinked rapidly, a slightly dazed look on his face as he tried to process why he’d been pulled away when he’d obviously been making her feel good. It felt incredible to have her nipple in his mouth, hearing her soft noises of pleasure. The haze of lust in his mind slowly cleared at her words, realizing she was probably right, even if he selfishly wanted to keep going. "Oh..." He murmured softly, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. "Right. Okay." He adjusted his glasses, trying to regain some semblance of focus.

“Good.” She stroked his hair back with a tender smile, pulling him to kiss her again before taking a look at his face. “I’m gonna lay back, like this.” Sliding off his lap, Y/N settled against the arm of the couch pulling a pillow to rest her head on. The position had her sitting up slightly, but gave a more relaxed vision. Hopefully that would have him feeling calmer. “And you’re gonna lay between my legs once I get these off.” Her bottoms needed to get off immediately. 

When he sat back, she tugged on the waistband and squirmed to get them off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor- along with her panties. There wasn’t much hesitance in showing her body to him. Y/N liked her body, she felt proud of it, and she embraced it. There was always those nerves though, being intimate with someone new- even if it was for a lesson. Spreading her thighs, she placed a hand over her cunt and motioned for him to lay down. “Do you remember what I said, Honey? About teasing?”

He nodded slowly, trying to remember all the instructions she had given him. "Tease first..." He murmured softly, adjusting his glasses nervously as he positioned himself between her thighs. Using his elbows to keep him up a bit, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her spread them wider for his body to fit between. "Kiss, lick, don't go straight for the... the main event?" He asked hesitantly, his hands resting on her inner thighs.

“Very good.” Her face lit up as he looked at her for reassurance. “It’s the little things that get me. You know? The soft brushing of fingers on the thighs, the stomach, right above my pussy…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Kiss my thighs, Har. Can you do that for me?” Taking her hand off her cunt, she properly revealed it for the first time for his eyes to see.

Harry felt the breath catch in his throat as the sight of her bare pussy caught him off guard. It wasn’t lost on him that he was very lucky to be able to experience this. Y/N was beautiful and he adored her, but there was a new appreciation in him for how kind she was being. This wasn’t something you could just ask anyone. "Fuck..." He whispered, his hands squeezing her inner thighs gently as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the delicate skin. "Like this?" He murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin, his lips brushing over the crease where her leg met her hip.

“Mhm.” 

He could see her body relax into the touch, her thighs parting a bit more to give him better access. Her skin was so soft and warm under his lips, and he could smell her scent growing stronger the closer he got to her center. Harry took his time, pressing gentle kisses along her inner thighs, his hands brushing along the skin in a featherlight touch. He could hear her breathing growing a bit shallower, her chest rising and falling a bit faster. It emboldened him to continue, to keep teasing her like she had told him to.

"You're... you're doing so good." Y/N breathed out, one hand coming to rest in his hair as she spread her legs wider, hooking one over his shoulder. She could feel herself growing wetter with each kiss, more aroused knowing he was taking his time to learn her body. Such a good little student. "Lower. Just a bit..." she whispered, guiding his head with gentle fingers. Her other hand drifted down to her breast, plucking at her nipple as she watched him between her legs. "Kiss right above my cunt.”

Eagerly following her guidance, he moved up to press a soft kiss just above her pussy, his lips brushing against her soft curls. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, smell her arousal. It was intoxicating, and he found himself nuzzling into her a bit, his nose pressing against her. "Fuck, you smell so good..." he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. He pressed another kiss right at the top of her slit.

“Oh fuck- that was good.” She gasped in surprise. “That’s filthy. Rubbing yourself against me but… it’s so hot. Showing how eager you are to make the person you’re gonna pleasure, it’s really sexy.” Brushing his hair out of his face, she felt the heat of his breath over her cunt. “Tell me you want to eat me out. Talk to me.”

"I do..." His voice came out huskier than he'd planned, his eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before focusing back on her exposed pussy. "Fuck, Y/N... I really want t’taste you." Without waiting for further instruction, he used his fingers to spread her open for him and pressed a gentle kiss directly to her clit, making her gasp loudly. "You're so fucking wet… Can’t believe I did this." His finger traced down her slit slowly, as if showing instead of telling how aroused she was.

"Your cunt is fucking glistening. I can already tell your pussy is sweet..." He muttered against her skin, his tongue peeking out to give her one soft lick. Tasting her for the first time, savoring the flavor on his tongue, he was proving that fact. She was perfect to taste- a pussy like this deserved the best of the best, and he wanted her to show him exactly what she liked. Y/N moaned loudly, her hips rolling slightly, a clear indication that she liked what he was doing. "Yeah? You like that? S’good for you?" Harry asked, his voice encouraging as he licked her again, this time a bit slower, applying a bit more pressure.

“Uh-huh… Shit.” She cussed, feeling his tongue swipe up and over her clit. “D-Do what you want. Let me see where it’s going wrong because right now from my perspective, you’re doing perfectly.” Why would he even need help? Was it a ploy to fuck her? That was doubtful considering Harry really, really wasn’t like that. The worst part was that she was liking it a lot more than she was supposed to. If she was training him on how to pleasure how she liked it, it was going to be hard not to lose it.

Harry smiled slightly at her words, feeling a bit more confident in his actions. He started slowly, his tongue flicking out to lap at her gently, his fingers keeping her open for him to fully access her. He could feel her wetness spread onto his chin, and he couldn't help but push himself, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking softly. He looked up at her, checking her face for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

He was learning, trying to remember how she had said she liked it. His tongue swiped up again, swirling around her entrance slowly before pushing inside slightly. "Like this?" He mumbled softly, his chin wet with her juices. He kept his movements slow and unhurried, his touch soft. He was tentative, like he was scared of messing up. "Is this good?"

“I.. Normally would say that’s a bit fast to push your tongue in but fuck, that felt nice.” She giggled breathlessly. “Here…” Her fingers were careful as she took his glasses off and tossed them further down the couch so they wouldn’t get in the way- or worse, crushed. “Wanted to see those pretty eyes.” Her fingers kept the hair out of his eyes as she felt a few kisses over her mound, in the thatch of curls above her cunt. His face was slightly wet, but it was erotic. “That feels so nice. The kisses…” She hummed. “You have the instincts. Don’t think too much about it. Doing things like that- That’s good. Just make me feel good. See what I respond to.”

Harry blinked owlishly at her, surprised by the sudden loss of his glasses but pleased when he realized she liked his eyes. His face flushed slightly at the praise, his tongue darting out to lick over her clit hesitantly. "Okay. You’ll tell me if y’don’t like it, yeah?" He asked, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pussy, the sound drowning out the tv playing at a lowered volume.

She nodded slowly, watching him between her thighs. He was almost shy like this, his face buried in her pussy as he kissed around it sweetly. His lips were soft, his kisses unhurried. He spread her wider with his thumbs, his tongue poking out to give her one slow lick from bottom to top. Her hips shifted slightly, chasing the feeling.  "You taste so good." He mumbled softly, his voice sending vibrations against her. “I didn’t expect you t’get so wet for me. Soaking my chin. I love it.”

His words seemed to have struck a chord in her, judging by how sharply her breath hitched and her legs involuntarily tried to press around his head. She visibly flustered, clearly flattered by his filthy compliments- and shocked. Had he always had that in him? "Harry..." She whimpered, the sound of his wet mouth against her flesh combined with his sweet, dirty words making her pulse against his tongue. "You... should be careful with that mouth." She whispered, her hand tangling in his hair again, guiding him slightly without putting any pressure.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations traveling pleasantly through her core. "Why's that?" He murmured teasingly against her skin, his tongue darting out for another long, slow lick. He could feel her practically melting under his mouth, her thighs quivering slightly. This was how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel as anxious with her, they had repor, he truly trusted her- but it felt like he had a better sense of her body and what she liked. 

She’d given him clues and tips, but he was finding out on his own what she liked. It was something he was enjoying the longer he did it, feeling more eager to bury his face in her pretty pussy and never leave. Especially when he felt her hand tighten in his hair and her body shift to get more. "Worried I might make you cum too hard?" His tone was playful, a little more confident now, and that was dangerous for her. Feeling him nipp gently at her clit, soothing it with a flicker of his tongue immediately after was enough proof of that. Looking up at her he tried to see if that was okay, but the noise she let out had him feeling fairly sure it was.

"Fuck, Harry... You smartass.” The giggle turned into a pitched moan very quickly after though, her back arching as he sucked on her clit in retaliation, her hips rolling against his mouth. Harry could feel her getting closer, her pussy getting wetter. He knew the signs, she was teaching him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he licked into her eagerly. She was so responsive, her body reacting to his every move. He felt powerful, in control- and it was a heady feeling.

"Jesus, your pussy is perfect." He mumbled between kisses, not caring if she could hear him. He could see her getting close- her thighs trembling, her breathing quickening, and the way her fingers were now tight in his hair. That was his goal. He wanted to make her cum so fucking bad it hurt. His cock was a mess in his trousers but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make her cum, hard. He wanted to clean it up as he made himself messy. "Do you want my fingers inside you?" He whispered, not missing a beat with his mouth returning to his suckling. He kept the pace steady but increased the pressure just slightly, wanting to hear her response.

"Yes..." Y/N  breathed out the single word, squirming helplessly against his face. His mouth felt incredible and he obviously felt better about what he was doing now, taking more risks that only worked out in her favor. "So good, honey. You’re doing so good, your mouth is perfect." 

How had he been bad with these other women? All it took was a little bit of instruction with a soft voice and he was licking into her like she was his last fucking meal. 

She gasped, her nails nearly digging into his scalp as he slipped one finger inside her easily. "Your fingers are so big. Holy shit..." She panted, grinding down on his hand. "More..." She begged, knowing damn well she hadn’t wanted to be this needy for it but god damn. He was a good student. A very fast learner. "Please." The woman’s voice cracked with need. "Harry, please..."

He curled his fingers slightly inside her, hitting that spot he’d read about but had never actually found on a woman before. He must be doing it right, because she was practically sobbing his name, her hips bucking against his hand. He added another finger, stretching her slowly but surely, his tongue never stopping its slow, deliberate lapping. 

It was obvious what she liked, what made her feel good, and he wanted to keep doing it. Memorize it so he knew how to do it perfectly next time- or continue practicing until he had it down. His head felt fuzzy with the need to get her there, to make her feel hot under the skin like he had been clueless about before. "Look at me." he mumbled against her, his voice muffled but insistent. He wanted to see her face contort with pleasure, wanted to watch her get closer.

It felt like her entire world had narrowed down to his fingers inside her and his tongue on her clit. It really had been far too long since she’d been touched and even longer since she had been eaten out with this amount of vigor. Maybe it hadn’t ever happened prior to him, but her brain wasn’t fully working. She was so close, teetering on the edge and he just... he just kept pushing her. Adding more, curling just right, licking and sucking in a rhythm that seemed designed to drive her insane. 

Y/‘ couldn’t see him fully, not with his face buried smugly between her thighs, but she managed to lift her head, her eyes finding his own as he had demanded. The intensity in his gaze, the desperate need, it was too much. “Just like that, you’re going t’make me cum. Just like that, keep it like that- fuck.” Her groan seemed angry but it was anything but. She was worked over and sulking at how good it felt. “Shit, you love eating pussy. Don’t you, Harry? Just needed s-someone to show you how they like it.”

"Fuck yeah." He breathed against her, his eyelids drooping with pleasure at her accusation. He loved this, every fucking second. The slick sounds of her arousal, the way her pussy clenched around his fingers, the taste, how she grabbed at his hair, the sounds she made, the changes in her breathing, her squirming, the way her words slurred a little bit, the pulsing against his tongue. 

God. Harry fucking loved it- he just didn’t know it could be this good. Addicting.

The vibrations as he groaned happily between her lips had to be adding something extra. "Knew I'd love it. Jus’ want to be able to make you feel good."

"Cum on my face baby, okay? Just let go. I wanna taste you." He whispered hoarsely, pressing a sloppy kiss to her clit before sucking it back into his mouth. His fingers curled again and again inside her, hitting that elusive spot over and over as she dripped all over his fingers and down the back of his hand. He wanted to make her shatter, wanted to feel her cum all over his face and fingers like he had been working toward.

There was no way she could even respond properly. The constant stimulation to her g-spot, his repeated sucking on her clit, the way he sloppily ate her cunt with little regard of the mess she was making on his face- the only thing he seemed to give a fuck about was making her cum. Who was she to take that from him?

 Her body tensed, her back arching as she let out a long, drawn-out moan. It was a sound of pure pleasure, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensation of him working her over. She came hard, her pussy clamping down on his fingers as she gushed all over his face and hand. Her hand was tight in his locks, tugging as a garbled moan left her mouth and she attempted to writhe. He kept her held still as he moaned loudly against her.

In fact, Harry didn’t stop. Even as she came, he kept eating her, his fingers still curled inside her as he lapped up her cum, cleaning her up. He was fucking starving for it, for the taste and the sound and the feeling of her losing control. He sucked and licked her pussy, feeling it spasming occasionally, until he was certain he had cleaned up every last drop- And her weak push of her hand against his head. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out, his face and hand coated in her.

She was a goddess, slumped back against the cushions with a flushed, dazed expression. Harry couldn't help but kiss her inner thigh as it twitched before wiping his mouth. "Fuck, you’re amazing." The man murmured. Crawling up her body, he claimed her lips in a messy kiss, letting her taste herself. “Thank you.” It was mumbled between lazy kisses. “Thank you, Thank you.”

His hands roamed over her as he continued to kiss her sloppily, his body heavy on top of hers. He was still fully dressed, his erection painfully trapped in his pants. "Y/N... I’m sorry, but can I?" He asked softly, his fingers already working at the button of his jeans, his intent clear. "I gotta cum. Can I cum on your cunt? Please?” If he wasn’t so horny he would be embarrassed for doing this, but he was losing it. When it died down, he would definitely be embarrassed for how insane he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe the lack of blood flow to the head, it was going directly to the other.

“Shit.” Y/N laughed weakly, her body feeling like pins and needles as it came down from the orgasm. The idea was one she had considered, especially with how good he had listened- a reward. “Yeah, Honey. As a reward.” She sighed, leaning her head up further. “I wanna watch.”

He almost whined at her words, practically tearing his jeans open wide enough to pull out his stiff cock. He pushed his pants down towards his calves, staying there between her spread legs. His hand gripped his dick tightly, squeezing as he looked up at her face from his spot between her legs. "Yeah- yeah, please watch. I love being watched.” His hips moved forward unconsciously as he ran his cock over her, the head of his dick smearing pre-cum all over her cunt.

“Cute little exhibitionist.” Y/N cooed, running her hand over her stomach. “Go ahead. You’ve got such a pretty cock, but it looks like it hurts.” Her lips formed a soft pout. “Stroke yourself and cum all over that pussy, Harry.”

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He chanted under his breath, his hand moving faster over his shaft. With his tip pressing against her clit, he ran it up and down her slit. "You're so pretty. Your cunt is beautiful- all of you, so fucking gorgeous." He complimented her, his words coming out in short gasps. It was so hot, the way her lips spread around him, how she looked all fucked out and messy from his mouth. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over you, baby."

Y/N looked up at him with a soft, encouraging smile, her eyes staring into his with that tinge of desire. "Cum for me, Harry. Cum all over my pretty little pussy. I wanna see it, I wanna see you lose it." Her hand moved down to spread herself, holding herself open for him. "You've been so good, so obedient. You deserve it. Such a good student, a fast learner… You can have it. Cum on my cunt." Her voice was gentle but commanding, the perfect blend of sweet and dirty that had him right on the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N..." Harry whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut as her words pushed him over the edge. With a final thrust of his hips, he came undone. He felt the first spurt of his hot, sticky cum hit her pussy lips, coating them in his release. He groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he pumped out rope after rope of cum, covering her cunt completely. "Oh my god... Oh my god."

Even as he finished cumming, a few last spurts dribbling out to make a mess across her lower stomach, he couldn't look away from where his cum coated her pussy lips, right in her thatch curls and the surrounding skin. It was obscene, filthy, and he loved it. Y/N had made him lose his mind a bit, but he didn’t really want to find it.

Breathing heavily, he finally met her gaze with a slightly embarrassed but mostly pleased grin. "Holy fuck, that was hot." He murmured, swallowing hard. "Never done that before. Came so fucking hard..."

"Good, cause you made a mess." She giggled, watching him as his chest heaved. The sight of his stomach and abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat- his hair was ruffled and he looked like he’d had a workout instead of jerking off on her body. "You like that, I think. Making a mess." She asked softly, watching as he continued to stroke himself slowly, milking himself. Her eyes were drawn back to his dick. It really was beautiful- and really fucking big. “Where the hell were you hiding that? God damn.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment, glancing down at his slowly softening dick with a smirk. "Guess I just needed the right inspiration, huh?" He teased lightly, finally releasing his grip on himself and leaning forward to rest his forearms on either side of her head, caging her in slightly. His face was mere inches from hers now, his glasses gone and his hair disheveled in the sexiest way possible. “Just need t’do this before we clean up and act normal again. Don’t yell at me.”

His mouth claimed hers slowly, lips moving softly against hers. He licked into her mouth slowly, like he was savoring her taste, his body half covering hers. His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss slowly, like he was trying to imprint himself onto her. Just as quick as it started though, it was over. She shouldn’t have been so sad about that. He pulled back slowly, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes opened slowly to find her watching him softly, their lips still wet and swollen from the kiss. He grinned slightly, licking his lips again. “See? Not so bad.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, feeling dazed. Who the fuck was this? And why did he kiss so good it made her toes curl? Who was this and what had they done to her best friend? “I think your problem isn’t that you don’t have skill. Naturally you seem to get it. I think you’ve just gotten into your own head and you think too much.” She had been a safe person and it was easier for him to lose that anxiety with her, knowing she had already agreed to teach him. 

“It can be hard to perform if you’re not able to properly get into it. Your dick can be hard as nails, but your mind not being in it will be a mood killer and they’re gonna know.” The smile on her face was slightly sad but she knew it was what he had to hear. “Because honestly? I haven’t orgasmed like that in ages. All it took was a few tweaks and you had it down. Maybe you just aren’t a hookup guy. Did that feel a lot different than the other people?” Maybe he needed someone who could openly communicate. The expectation of someone just knowing wasn’t always fair. 

"Yeah." He hesitated, shifting slightly to prop himself up on one elbow next to her. His other hand traced patterns on her stomach absentmindedly. "It was... different." He seemed to struggle with the words for a moment. "With those other girls, I was always nervous. Overthinking every single fucking thing. Like you said." He glanced at her face, a slight blush forming across his cheeks. "With you... it felt natural. Real. And fuck, listening to you moan like that… Where did those lungs come from?"

“You freak!” She laughed, pushing his shoulder to get him to sit up. Adjusting her bralette back over her breasts she didn’t bother with the bottoms yet, because she really needed to go clean up. Secretly she was pleased that she had been different. It was so cliche to say it, but she wanted to be different than them. She just… wasn’t quite sure why yet. Her brain hadn’t come back down to earth fully and she couldn’t be bothered to truly question it. “You won’t need many lessons on how to pleasure a woman with results like that, I’m telling you that. Good job.” Reaching out, she squished his cheeks with a soft coo before he shot her a look.

"Oi!" He laughed, swatting her hand away playfully but with a big smile on his face. "Don't treat me like a puppy. And..." He hesitated, reaching up to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Did it really feel that good? I mean." His voice dropped to a slightly embarrassed whisper. "Am I actually good at this stuff?" For someone who had just made her orgasm so hard, he suddenly seemed insecure again. Like he needed validation. "I know you don’t lie like that, but it just feels weird. Cause everyone else seemed disappointed… I thought I’d be completely awful.”

“Oh, H.” She frowned at his vulnerability. “It was really good for me. I think maybe you just need some lessons on how to let go and relax when you’re being intimate. And I’m happy to teach you that.” Brushing her hand over his stubble she gave his chin a pinch. “Trust me. I’d tell you if you needed a lot of work. It can be hard for women to cum from oral sometimes too. It’s hit or miss for me, and you had me cumming so easily so, I would say it was probably a mix of feeling safe and you having some good natural instincts you couldn’t tap into before because you were anxious and your brain was in overdrive.” Pulling him into a hug, she squeezed him lightly as she inhaled his scent. He smelled like mint and sex, with a tinge of laundry detergent. Appropriate. 

“When I’m done with you, we’ll have it all squared away and figured out. Okay? Don’t think about those times. Think about the fact you’re gonna get to fuck your really hot best friend.” Standing up from the couch with a laugh and a pat to his head, she walked to the bathroom to get herself clean- and take a minute to breathe. Her chest was doing a weird thing it hadn’t before and she didn’t want to think about it. “Hey, can you order something from that cookie place to be delivered while I shower please? Use my phone, my card is already in the app. Thank youuuu.”

He watched her leave, a small smile on his face at her words. It was a relief to hear that he wasn't completely incompetent. Flopping back against the cushions, he stared at her ceiling fan as it whirred around with a content sigh. 

As requested, he ordered a batch of her favorite cookies from the nearby bakery, adding a special request for extra chocolate chips with a small chuckle. She had ordered quite a few times recently, so he had tried to replicate it while adding white choc macadamia for himself. A classic, even if Y/N would wrinkle her nose for them sharing a box.

After submitting it for the delivery, he found himself humming softly, a warmth spreading through his chest at the thought of learning more from her. That had been so good, he felt so relieved that he wasn’t defective- but he did have to wonder how he was going to be this comfortable with anyone else. Y/N was easy to unwind around. It was hard to imagine him getting as comfortable with anyone else in the way he was with her.

Getting closer to her in a vulnerable and intimate way was sure to grow their friendship. He couldn’t really see it backfiring. Their friendship was too strong.

 Right?

[p0orbaby]

magic 8 ball

summary: What starts as Leah crashing your pity pint spirals, predictably, into something far less wholesome and far more hands-on.

warnings: SMUT 18+, just general sex stuff so you know the drill

a/n: i was inspired, not sure by what, but here we are

word count: 2.5k

-

“I’m not having a breakdown,” you say, peeling the label off your beer with such deep concentration you forget you have to breathe to survive. “I’m having a perfectly rational response to the current state of the world. And also to my boss, who thinks ‘relevance’ is when a TikTok account reposts our gallery’s Instagram.”

Leah makes a sound, something between a laugh and a sigh, and slides onto the stool next to you as if she owns the place. She probably does. Or knows someone who does. She’s wearing a camel coat from The Row that looks like it’s never seen a hanger. Soft, fluid, draped like wealth. Her hair is up—one of those deliberately lazy ponytails that costs £80 at a salon and makes people call you effortless like it’s a compliment. She probably just didn’t bother sorting it after training.

She orders a double gin and tonic. Not with Bombay or Tanqueray or any of the pedestrian options available to people who wear polyester and say OOTD. She points, without looking, at a bottle of something artisanal. Something with botanicals. Something brewed by a man with a beard who lives in Hackney and forages moss recreationally while naked.

“You’re twitching,” she says, when the bartender walks away.

“I’m fine,” you reply, tight. “I’m absolutely fucking fine.”

You’re not. You’re vibrating with the same energy as a microwave that’s just been asked to reheat a bowl of leftover soggy chicken chow mein.

Leah squints. “Your eye does this thing when you’re on the brink of homicide. It’s cute, all things considered.”

You think about stabbing her with the cocktail stick that came with the complimentary olives you got when you ordered. Instead, you finish peeling the label. The bar is now covered in neat, sticky curls of Beck’s branding. You take a vicious sort of pride in it—like this bar owes you something and you’re slowly destroying it molecule by molecule.

“I had to explain post-conceptualism to a man who unironically collects Funko Pops today.”

“God.”

“He said, ‘So it’s like Banksy but sadder?’”

“Oh, sweet Jesus.”

“And then he asked me if Damien Hirst invented fruit winders.”

Leah bites her lip to suppress a grin. You hate that she finds this funny.

“I’m in hell,” you say. “I live here now. It’s beige and the lighting’s fluorescent and all the curators wear Balenciaga in the wrong way.”

“There’s a wrong way to wear Balenciaga?”

“Yes. It’s when you do it with sincerity.”

Leah hums, amused. Her drink arrives. She picks it up like she’s in an advert for skincare. You hate her glass. It’s too clean. You hate how she sips, like the liquid is trying to earn her respect. You hate her in general, really. But it’s a specific, curated hate. The kind that comes with longing. Jealousy. Proximity.

“You’re not angry,” she says, “you’re heartbroken.”

“I am not heartbroken.”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “You’re artistically blue-balled.”

That, unfortunately, lands. You clench your jaw. You spent two months assembling an exhibit that got described as visually competent by someone whose own work consists of melting Barbie heads onto coat hooks. The only person who seemed to get it was a caretaker, and even he asked if it was “about feminism or something.”

Leah’s watching you with the sort of curiosity she usually reserves for rare mushrooms or political scandals. You feel exposed, like she’s mentally peeling your skin back to check for rot.

“I just—” You stop. You sip your beer. You stare at its froth like it insulted your mother. “I just want to make something that doesn’t immediately get filtered through someone else’s idiot-brand algorithm of what art is supposed to do. I don’t want it to do anything. I want it to exist. And I want that to be enough.”

There’s a pause. A proper silence. A respectful one.

Then Leah says, “Well. That’s depressing.”

You blink. “Do you ever have a normal human reaction?”

“I do,” she says, “just not to tantrums disguised as philosophies.”

You groan. Loudly. Obnoxiously. “Why are you here?”

She takes another sip, smacks her lips, says: “You texted me the words ‘I hope my body gets mistaken for a performance piece when I die.’ So I cleared my schedule.”

You rub your face. You did text that. You thought it was funny.

“You’re a masochist,” you mutter.

“You’re dramatic.”

You look up at her, eyes narrowed. “You think you’re better than me.”

Leah leans in, her face maddeningly calm. “Sweetheart. I know I am.”

You want to throw something at her. A pint glass. the chair you’re sitting on. Your entire unresolved emotional history. But instead you say, “Do you ever get tired of always being the most emotionally detached person in the room?”

She tilts her head. “Do you ever get tired of pretending your anger is intellectual when really you’re just sad and lonely and catastrophically underfucked?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“I am not underfucked.”

“I can see how tense your jaw is from here. It’s clenched like a Victorian child repressing her feelings about having to crawl up another chimney. Go home and look at yourself in the mirror. Tell me that’s the face of someone getting railed regularly.”

You want to die. You also want her to say it again, slowly, in private, with less clothing.

There’s a long, crackling pause. You both know it’s no longer about art.

Leah sets down her glass. She taps the rim once, twice. Rhythm. Precision. Her nails are short, square, coated in clear polish that you don’t normally notice but have now because you can’t look her in the eye. Then you catch yourself staring at her hands for too long and quickly look away.

She doesn’t comment. But you know she notices. Leah notices everything. She notices the hair tie on your wrist has snapped and been retied in a knot, twice. She notices you’ve stopped wearing mascara, which you used to call your “armour” in that stupid, performative way you used to talk about beauty like it was actually important. She notices the crack in your lip that won’t heal because you’ve been biting it every time you think too hard.

She says, eventually, almost to herself:

“Right. That’s enough tragic brooding. Come on.”

You glance at her sideways. “Come on what?”

She lifts her chin, shrugs like it’s obvious. “It’s time for the three F’s.”

You blink. “The what?”

“The three F’s,” she repeats, counting them off on one hand like she’s listing dinner party ingredients. “Food. Fucking. And… I haven’t decided on the third one. It’s usually ‘forgiveness’ but tonight it might change depending on my mood or how close you are to bursting into tears.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you having a stroke?”

Leah ignores this. She taps her temple. “It’s a system. A trifecta. A deeply spiritual practice.”

“Sounds like a religious cult run by Gordon Ramsay.”

She smirks. “Exactly. Chips first. Sex second. Existential clarity optional.”

You stare at her, arms folded. She’s smiling now, that crooked, smug half-smile that suggests she knows she’s funny, even when you want to shove her face into a vat of chip grease.

“You offering?” you ask, dry. “For the second F?”

Leah shrugs again. “No. I saw a homeless man outside and thought you two might hit it off.”

You snort, despite yourself. “You’re a bitch.”

She sips her drink like she’s just said something unremarkable and bureaucratic, like we’ll be closing early due to maintenance. She doesn’t look at you. You’re glad. You’re not ready for the look she gives you when she’s being sincere. It’s like being x-rayed.

Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, “Of course I’m offering. Don’t be daft.”

You freeze. A beat. Another.

“I thought I was a neurotic, emotionally volatile husk of a woman with a martyr complex and an inflated sense of artistic purpose.”

“You are,” she says. “But you’ve got a decent face and you’re good with your hands. So, you know. Swings and roundabouts.”

You scoff. And you’re trying really hard to stay calm because your doctor has informed you your concerningly high blood pressure is a direct correlation of your erratic emotions.

“What happened to chips first?”

“Oh, I still want chips. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since three and I’m craving something fried and disgusting. Preferably served by someone with a name badge and an attitude problem.”

You nod slowly. “That’s the most grounded thing you’ve said all night.”

“Thank you. I’m a woman of the people.”

She drains her gin and stands, smooth and sudden, like movement happens to her rather than from her. You watch the line of her coat shift across her hips and hate her a little more. In a nice way. A respectful way.

She glances back at you, already heading toward the door. “You coming, or are you going to sit here frowning into warm beer like the ghost of failed gallery interns past?”

You mutter something under your breath and follow. Of course you do. It’s Leah.

It’s always Leah.

-

“You’re making that face again.”

Leah’s looking at you from the other end of the bed—half undressed, half mocking, propped up on her elbow like some god-awful, lesbianised version of a Greek statue who knows exactly how fit she is.

You’re topless and regretting all your life choices. “What face?”

“The one that says, ‘this is a terrible idea but I’m already wet so fuck it.’”

She’s not wrong.

You shoot her a glare and yank your bra off in one not so smooth move. It slaps the floor with the exhausted whimper of cotton that’s held too many disappointing breasts over the years.

“God, you’re hot when you’re angry,” she says, and you want to laugh. Or hit her. Or sit on her face. All three feel valid.

“Shut up and lie down.”

She does. Immediately. The smugness fades slightly, replaced by something quieter. More concentrated. She watches you crawl over her like a lion stalking its prey. Or more realistically like you’re some slow-motion car crash she wants to get hit by.

You kiss her. Sloppy. Unapologetic. More tongue than technique. It’s not romantic. It’s hot. It’s urgent. It tastes like gin and old rage.

Somewhere between biting her lip and grinding down against her thigh, you lose track of how long you’ve been pretending not to want this. Leah’s skin is warm and annoyingly soft. Her bra’s still on. She’s still wearing her bra.

You reach for it, fumbling. “Why are these always like a NASA launch?”

She laughs into your neck. “You’ve never undressed another woman before, have you?”

“Only emotionally.”

You finally get the clasp and she shrugs out of it, tits bouncing slightly. You both pretend not to notice how your brain flatlines for a second. You’re supposed to be cool. You’re supposed to be in control.

But her nipples are hard and you’re throbbing and when she reaches between your legs without warning, you gasp—loud and unedited.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “Warn a girl.”

“You’ve literally been grinding on my thigh for five minutes.”

“That’s different. That’s friendship.”

Leah slips her hand down your knickers. Finds you soaked. She hums like she’s impressed. Or smug. Probably both.

“Jesus, babe,” she says. “You’re soaked.”

You scoff. “Don’t call me babe. You sound like some weirdo on Love Island.”

“Fine. Darling?”

“Worse.”

“You’re tight when you’re annoyed,” she murmurs, and then pushes two fingers in. Just like that.

You moan. Too loudly. Your hips buck automatically.

“Oh, fuck—”

Leah grins like a wolf. She curls her fingers and your whole spine tries to fold in half.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she says, pumping slow, deliberate, unfair. “There. Right there. Don’t move.”

You immediately move. “Fuck, wait—fuck, there.”

She groans, her forehead pressed to yours. “You’re so annoying.”

You kiss her to shut her up and reach down between her legs. Her knickers are drenched too. You laugh.

“What?” she says, breath hitching.

“Nothing. Just didn’t know England’s golden girl got this wet.”

“I’m a footballer,” she pants, “not a cardinal.”

You pull her knickers aside, push two fingers in easily. She’s hot and slick and all kinds of fuckable. Her eyes roll back for a second. She grabs your arm, anchoring herself. Her nails dig in.

“Oh my god. Keep doing that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t—don’t fucking stop.”

You thrust harder, matching her rhythm, both your hands moving now—sloppy and synchronised. Her hips are rolling. Yours too. There’s swearing. Lots of it. You’re both flushed and swearing and laughing in between grunts.

“Fuck,” she gasps. “Harder.”

You give it to her harder. You give it to her like a promise. Like revenge.

At one point you both reach for each other at the same time and bang foreheads. Loudly.

“Ow,” you groan, blinking.

She’s laughing. “This is the least elegant sex I’ve ever had.”

“Good,” you growl, sucking a bruise into her neck. “I’m not here to be elegant.”

You push her legs wider. You go lower.

“Wait—are you—oh fuck—”

You don’t bother answering. You just get your mouth on her. One long, filthy lick from her entrance to her clit and she arches like she’s being electrocuted.

“Jesus CHRIST,” she chokes. “You’ve done this before.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. You just moan into her cunt and keep going.

Her hand finds your hair and tugs. Not hard. Just enough to make you feel owned.

She’s close. You can feel it. She starts talking like a woman possessed.

“Yes. There. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—”

You don’t. Of course you don’t. You flatten your tongue and she breaks.

She cums hard, loud, practically shaking, her thighs closing around your head like a vice.

When she collapses, she pulls you up, kisses you like she’ll die if she doesn’t, and flips you over. She doesn’t even hesitate. Her mouth is on you like it’s home. She licks you open, groaning like you’re her favourite meal and she’s been fasting.

“Oh fuck me,” you cry, gripping the headboard like it’s a lifeline.

She hums against your clit. You nearly black out.

“Yeah?” she says, lifting her head. “That good?”

You nod, dazed.

“Use your words.”

“More.”

“More what?”

“More Leah.”

She moans like that’s the final straw and fingers you hard, mouth locked around your clit as if it belongs there. You cum embarrassingly fast. Practically scream. Collapse against the pillow like a dramatic Victorian wife.

There’s a beat. Silence. Both panting.

Then:

“I think I saw god.”

Leah wipes her mouth and shrugs. “Tell her I said hi.”

You both dissolve into hysterical laughter, tangled up and sweaty and slightly horrified.

“So,” you say, catching your breath. “The verdict on the third F?”

She grins. “I think I'll stick with forgiveness. For all the shit we’re about to pretend didn’t just happen.”

You nod. “Fair.”

And then you kiss her again. Because honestly, what else are you going to do?

[bnnysweets]

APPLE CIDER

loser!ellie x ditzy!reader

author’s note: english is not my first language. they’re inspired by cat and robbie in victorious bc i saw this edit and i couldn’t just don’t do nothing. ellie is just so mf in love with you omg.

warnings: ellie is IN LOVE, truly. reader is clueless. mention of marriage. reader is going out with a girl (booo🍅🍅) and she’s a asshole, ellie comforts you. fluff!

ellie is DELIRIOUS ’bout you, you share the same friend group so everyone knows she’s in love with you, but everyone also knows they can’t tell you because they already tried, but you didn’t believed, always excused it.

once, julien tried to tell you: “i telling you, she fucking loves you!” you laughed, “i knows she loves me, i love her too.” you said smiling and julien rolled her eyes, “i mean she wants you! like a girlfriend!” “yeah! we’re totally girlfriends!” you answered genuinely, “lord help me…ellie is in love with you. she wants to kiss you, with tongue. she draw you naked on her sketchbook, she writes songs about you, she gave your name to her favorite star.” you looked at her for a moment, without saying anything, just analyzing. “you know i don’t understand irony.” you said and julien gave up, changing the subject.

little did you know it’s aaaalll true, ellie’s big motivation to go the college everyday is to one day she have a great job and earn a lot of money to spoil you with all the expensive makeup you like and a pretty ring that you deserve. one page on her sketchbook has you in a wedding dress and veil, with your name + williams wrote on it. nobody else has ever saw it, it’s too precious to her.

so imagine her state when you started seeing a new girl, rachel. she was miserable, thinking you would never look at her the same way, but in one radom thursday you sat at the cafeteria table with a pout and sad eyes, ellie was experiencing a bittersweet feeling: at the same time time you looked so cute and sweet with that face, she was mad someone or something had made you sad. “rachel told me she liked me more when she didn’t really know me.” you announced to your friends, almost crying but before anyone could say anything ellie let a loud scoff, “are you fucking serious? this girl is insane?” she said and everybody was shocked, no one had ever seen ellie so mad and speaking so loudly, you just looked at her, speechless, batting you eyelashes at her, she swore you were trying to hypnotize her. “anyone who says they don’t like your personality is fucking insane, anyone should be fucking proud to get to know you. to know the pretty person you’re, inside and out, to know your kind heart and your bright mind. i’m not gonna sit here and listen to you say how rachel it’s just a difficult person when in reality she’s just a asshole, she’s a damn prick. she doesn’t deserve you, and you don’t see this! you don’t see how she talks ‘bout you when you’re not around, you don’t see because you trust her and it is the saddest and yet the prettiest thing ‘bout you, you believe her besides everything. but you need to wake up, she doesn’t like you! she likes to have you by her side, to show you off, to kiss you and show everyone how she has a pretty girl by her side. but she doesn’t truly like you, she likes how you make her feel, because she fucking knows how much you like her.” when ellie finished your face was all wet with tears, and ellie was out of breath, looking at you, fearing your reaction.

you got up and went to hug ellie, who was on the other side of the table. she embraced your body, smoothing your back while you cried and tightly hugged her body. when you calmed down you took your head out of her shoulder and looked at her, “thanks for the cold shower els, i needed it.” you said and waved goodbye to the group. you head to the rachel’s dorm to end everything right after this. maybe ellie has a chance after all.

[marvelslut16]

My Utah

Pairing: Dr. Frank Langdon x Dr!reader

Synopsis: Reader hears Javadi failing at asking out Mateo, and it takes her back to when she tried asking out Frank when she was a first year resident.

Word count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Mentions of the mass causality event/shooting. Mentions of blood. Mentions death once or twice, nothing too graphic, no one major.

A/N: Couldn't remember what hour the Utah comment happened in, so timeline probably doesn't fit the show exactly. AU where he isn't married, nor does he have the drug issues. Again, not really sure how I feel about this one, I'm still pretty rusty when it comes to writing. But 2 fics in 2 days?!?! Who am I?

“I don’t date people in the workplace,” you hear Mateo responding to Javadi’s stuttering. Poor girl, and when you hear her stutter some more, you take it upon yourself to step in and help Victoria.

“Do you mind if I steal Dr. Javadi from you? I have a patient I want her to help with,” you smile at Mateo, acting like you didn’t hear anything they had been saying. 

“Yeah, of course,” his eyes flick to Victoria, before nodding to you. 

“You seemed like you could use some saving in there,” you laugh lightly once you’re sure Mateo won’t be able to overhear you. 

“My parents once took me skiing for Christmas in Utah and from the moment I got off the plane, I just, I could not catch my breath, no matter how hard I tried. The altitude just made me awkward and uncoordinated. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t get my bearings. And I’m a very good skier, but I just spent the whole vacation, just like, on my butt, dizzy, panting. And Mateo’s like a human Utah.”

“Oh, I have my own Utah,” you laugh in understanding. “It could always be worse, he could be engaged. He’s not!” you add the last part quickly when you see her eyes widen in panic. 

“Oh, good,” she lets out a sigh of relief. 

“But mine was, or at least practically engaged. I found out he had already bought his girlfriend a ring after I made a fool of myself.”

“How did it end up working out?” Victoria asks, finally getting her own emotions in check.

“We’re great coworkers now, but it was one of the most embarrassing days of my life,” you admit, walking up to the nurse’s station. 

“Is he here today?” Victoria asks, looking around the ED trying to figure out who’s married. 

“He is,” you sigh, avoiding looking in Langdon’s direction. “He’s in South twelve right now.”

Javadi whips around to see who could be the person to knock you off your bearings. “Langdon?” she asks in complete shock, she imagined it would be someone more like you- someone nicer. 

“It was like in one of those cheesy romance novels, it was like the whole world disappeared and there was only him. He was a second year resident at the time.”

Just talking about it transports you back to two years ago, getting lost in his baby blue eyes. He seemed to take a special liking to you, he was always having you work alongside him, pulling you away from other residents when he had a more interesting case he wanted you to experience. 

Within the first month of you being in the Pitt it was like you and Langdon were attached at the hip. When he could see you slowing down during one of your many twelve hour shifts, he would slip you little snacks like granola bars or cheese crackers. If you had down time you were grabbing coffees or water for the two of you from the break room. The way you were with him caused Perlah and Princess to gossip about the two of you. And it didn’t stop with them, when no one else was around even Dana and Robby would talk about the way the two of you act around each other. 

With each passing day your feelings for Frank grew stronger and deeper. You spent pretty much every waking minute thinking about him, anytime you could let your mind drift it would slip back to thoughts of him. It didn't help that you would grab late night dinners to decompress after pretty much every shift, and spending your days texting one another about anything and everything. 

Even with all of that time spent together, you had no idea he had a girlfriend- and a serious one at that. If you had known you never would have dreamed of asking him out, of thinking you had even a sliver of a chance with him. One fateful day two months into your rounds, you asked him to go to the Carnegie Science Center with you on your day off. His face immediately changed from the carefree smile that Princess swears he reserves just for you, to a cold hard stare. You can still feel the white hot embarrassment washing over you to this day. You were so embarrassed, and to make matters worse you had just spit the question out at the nurses station right in front of Dana, wanting to- needing to- ask Frank before you lost your nerve. So you got rejected right there in the middle of the ED in front of your charge nurse, the same nurse who told you two weeks later that he had gotten engaged over the weekend.  

“At least I waited two months before asking mine out,” you tease Javadi. 

“Dr. (Y/L/N),” you and the first year resident beside you freeze at the unmistakable voice. “Can I get your opinion on a patient in North four?”

“Yes,” your voice squeaks a little, once again feeling the embarrassment you felt around him two years ago. “But, I’m bringing Dr. Javadi, she could use the experience.”

“Okay…”he furrows his brows at you, confused by your reaction to him. 

Javadi watches Langdon and you, how the two of you move in sync, no trace of the awkwardness she’ll no doubt have with Mateo going forward. She doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before, the little looks you two give each other as you work, wordlessly communicating your thoughts to each other. He may have rejected you years ago, but he still clearly cares about you and values your opinion. 

The remaining hours of your shifts slip by; Javadi, Langdon, and you being separated and thrown together multiple times throughout. She watches you two, observes the way you take care of each other. 

“Cute, aren’t they?” Dana asks Javadi once she returns from her CT scan. “Been wondering when they’ll get together. The whole department’s got a bet going if you want to get in on it.”

“Isn’t he married?” Javadi asks, confused. Afterall, you said he had an engagement ring for his girlfriend. 

“No, he couldn’t go through with the wedding,” Dana gestures toward where you and Frank are leaning against the other side of the nurse’s station, giggling over the cups of freshly brewed coffee you just made. 

Your moment is cut short by the announcement of the shooting at Pitt Fest, everyone is scrambling trying to set up the ED before the first ambulance arrives. You work through the carnage, compartmentalizing everything you see, so you don’t break down in the middle of the chaos. There’s blood everywhere and you’ve changed your gown at least two times. You’ve lost Frank in the frey, which is to be expected, but hard nonetheless when he’s your lifeline. Slowly but surely everyone works as a well oiled machine and save everyone that you can. 

Once it’s all over and your body no longer has to run on autopilot, you're faced with the reality of what just happened. The blood smeared across the floor reminding you of the teenager, with her whole life in front of her, that you couldn’t save. Tears start to collect on your lashline standing in the middle of the emergency department, watching all of the fluids get mopped up so the ED  can be opened back up to the public like nothing just happened. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Frank appears out of nowhere, pulling you tightly into his chest. “We just need to hand off our patients to the night crew and then we can go home.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you grip onto his scrubs.

“I know,” he whispers, kissing the crown of your head without a thought. “You can come over to my place, I’ll make us some dinner, and we can watch a movie. I’ll even let you put on one of those trashy rom coms you love so much.”

“Thank you Frank,” you bury your head into his neck, taking a deep breath and putting your game face back on. 

“I love you,” Frank says out of nowhere, still holding onto you.

“I love you,too, my Utah,” you smile at him before heading off to find a resident to hand your cases off to. Frank and you will have to address your confessions when your emotions have calmed and the adrenaline has worn off.

“What?” he asks himself as you walk away. “What’s a Utah?”

[chloe-skywalker]

You Know This Guy? - Bucky Barnes /Alexei

Bucky x Fem!Reader

Alexei x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 659

Summary: Bucky called you to help manage these guys, he didn’t know Y/n would personally know Alexei.

Authors Note: Part 2 ? I wrote this before the movie came out so once I see the movie part 2 would be possible to write. Okay so I wrote this in february and didn’t find out till articles came out and said it in April but this fit almost the mental health theme of the movie. Definitely want to do a part 2.

Masterlist

Avengers Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Ah Y/n!” Alexei exclaimed in pure excitement at seeing the young woman enter the room with Barnes. Y/n and Bucky immediately looked towards the man in question and Y/n stood in shock and Bucky in confusion.

“You know this guy?” Bucky tilted his head towards Y/n but kept his eye’s on Alexei. Bucky didn’t trust anyone in this room, besides Y/n.

“A long time ago.” Y/n answered Bucky as well as copying him and keeping her eye’s on the man she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Not since she was a child.

“Oh my sweet, Y/n.” Alexei smiled as he approached her wrapping her up in his arms lifting her off the ground, hugging her to his chest.

“Okay, let me down.” Y/n squeezed out at how tight his hold was and she didn’t particularly like being lifted off the floor.

“I’m so happy your here. And you know Barnes!” Alexei put her back down on her feet moving his hands up to cup her cheeks, squishing them in the process.

“Yeah, yeah I know Barnes.” Y/n answered with a nod as she reached up grabbing his wrists to lower his hands from her face.

“Fantastic.” He clapped smiling looking between her and Bucky.

“May I talk to you for a sec?” Bucky asked placing a hand on Y/n’s lower back to get her attention, but to also provide her with comfort having noticed how tense she had become.

“Uh huh.” Y/n nodded leaning back into his hand as they left the room.

“How do you know this guy?” Bucky nodded back towards the room where they had left everyone else as he referred back to the burly man weathering a to tight suit. A suit neither one of them was sure ever really fit that man.

“I know pretty much all of the Bucky. John from when we helped Sam, Yelena from the Red Room-” Y/n started listing how she knew a couple of the people in the other room, but she was actively avoiding giving a straight answer to his question for as long as she could.

“How do you know Alexei?” Bucky clarified knowing her well enough to know she was stalling.

Y/n sighed, she didn’t like bringing up the past, especially this. “I was part of that undercover family with Nat and Yelena when we were kids.”

“Yeah you told me.” Bucky knew the story, she had told him before. It was the only family experince the 3 girls ever had for most of their lives.

“He was our undercover father.” Y/n stated biting her lip and let out a shaky breath.

Bucky’s eyes widened a she lifted his arm and pointed back to the other room in shock, needing extra comfirmation. “He was?”

“Yeah. A decent one to.” She nodded looking away, she didn’t like the feelings that were coming up when talking about it sure she told Bucky about this before, but not into to much detail.

“Are you going to be okay with this?” Bucky was worried with how being around Alexei could effect Y/n menatly and emtionally.

“Do I have a choice?” Y/n shrugged, it’s not like they really had a say in the matter.

Bucky hated that he felt helpless in this situation. “I don’t want you to feel-”

“We don’t have any say in the matter Bucky. I just have to. . . be okay with it.” Y/n cut him off shaking her head as she does so. There wasn’t anything they could do.

Bucky rubbed his none metal hand down his face not liking their lack of options. The only thing he could think of was to get their job done as fast as possible. “Let’s get this done fast so we can go back home.”

“Yeah.” Y/n agreed hoping they wouldn’t hit anymore snag’s so they could go home.

Taglist: @padawancat97 @maryvibess @gruffle1 @starkleila

[f4ggydog]

lottie x reader: no need to fight it cause you’re giving in🔞

warnings: smut, noncon, top lottie, lottie has a dick, reader has a pussy, breeding, delusional lottie, dark lottie

Lottie’s dragging you out to the clearing and the next thing you register is the sounds of trees blaring in your ears. You shake your head, wanting to put this fantasy to rest. Whatever delusion Lottie was infected by, you were begging for a halt to it. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up in her little schemes.

“I know you hear it too,” Lottie says. “Can you hear it humming in your ears?”

Humming was one way to put it. It felt more like screaming for you. You cover your ears and sink to the ground, covering your face with your knees. You shiver as a giant ball of agony and fright. Make it stop. Make it stop.

“It’s okay.” Lottie rests her hand on your shoulder. “It might hurt to hear, but you’re the only one that can…talk with it. Understand it.”

No, you are not. You’ve got no connection with the wilderness whatsoever and you wish Lottie would stop insisting that you do. Her plans were going nowhere.

“Nobody else would be able to hear that yelling besides us,” Lottie states. “I can only hear it because I’m in close proximity to you. You…you can help me connect with it again.”

When does the nightmare end?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “I-I’ve got no connection to anything.”

“Nonsense.” Lottie shoves your side. “You have to trust me. You’re so important right now. You have great significance. And I need you to use it.”

“Lottie, I’m not the wilderness’ advocate. I’m just a person. Really, I’m not some god or spirit. I’m just me. Just leave all this stuff behind.”

“If we don’t obey what the wilderness wants, we all die. If we don’t give it what it wants, we will all suffer. You don’t want that, do you?”

Of course you don’t. You’d hate to see any more needless deaths. You’ve barely survived consuming Javi, let alone consuming another Yellowjacket. As if devouring Jackie wasn’t harrowing enough.

“Just listen to it,” Lottie instructs tenderly. “Let the sounds of the forests fill your ears. Get immersed in your environment. Tell me how deeply you can feel.”

The forest calls out to you again. You cringe as shrieks of terror fill your ears again, along with the sound of the wind swaying the trees. A leaf falls from above. The ground feels like it’s moving. The earth feels like it’s spinning on its axis. You’re getting dizzier.

“Make it stop,” you whimper. “Make it stop, Lottie. Tell it to stop.”

“What do you hear?” Lottie ignores your request. “Tell me.”

“Screaming!” You cry out. “They won’t stop screaming. Lottie, my ears are gonna bleed! It’s just yelling!”

“It’s communicating with you, in the only way it knows how. You’re doing so well for me.”

You drop to your hands and knees, on all fours like a dog. You feel a sharp pain in your ribs and your nails dig into the dirt for something to grasp onto. More yelling echoes in your ears and your back is close to giving out. You’re not sure how much more pain you can take. Why does it feel like you’re on the verge of death?

“Excellent.” Lottie nods, a menacing smirk on her lips. “Perfect. So good.”

The screaming stops. You gasp for air, rolling onto your back and heaving. You cross your arms on your chest, blinking as you watch the blue sky.

“You make for an excellent pupil,” Lottie compliments. “You did me a big favor here.”

“I don’t think I wanna do any more favors, Lot. Can we just go back to the camp please? Everything hurts.”

“We’re not done yet. There’s still other ways that we might be able to connect to the wilderness. Together. You and me.”

“I think I’m okay.”

“You can’t refuse,” Lottie says sternly, hand cupping your cheek. “I’m not letting you go until we do this. Once we’re done, then we may return home.”

“No!” You snap, standing up and shaking dirt off of your knees. “I’m not doing this shit anymore, Lottie. I’m fucking going home. You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?”

“You can’t.” Lottie takes big strides towards you as you back away. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Fucking catch me then!” You taunt. “Cause I’m running. Fuck this! I’m gone!”

Lottie chases after you without hesitation. You don’t make it far before she tackles you onto the ground like a football player. She pins your hands above your head and presses her knees down on your legs.

“Good try,” she sighs. “Unfortunately, that’s not gonna cut it.”

“You’re fucking nuts,” you spit. “If you think I’m gonna let you poison me into your crazy ideology, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Fine,” Lottie huffs. “Then it turns out I’ll really have to get you to connect with it another way. Good thing I know a strategy.”

“What does that mean?” You inquire nervously. “What the hell do you mean, Lottie?”

“You’ll see. But you’re gonna have to trust me. Can you do that?”

“No, I’m not trusting you with anything! You tried to kill me back there.”

“I didn’t try to kill you,” Lottie corrects. “I was…introducing you to something.”

“Yeah, introducing me to my grave! Fuck off. Seriously, go bother Travis. Weren’t you messing with him earlier?”

“He doesn’t bear the same connection as you.” Lottie lowers her head. “I was mistaken. Thought I knew better, which is why I need you to help me out. I need to get in touch with the wilderness and its demands again. It’s important that I reach it. For the sake of you, me and the others.”

“Lottie you’re pissing me off,” you respond. “You’re pissing me off so bad, Lottie.

“I can deal with you being upset with me. As long as you get access to the wilderness in the way I want you to, it’s worth it.”

Lottie presses her nose to your forehead.

“I know this might not be easy for you to understand, but this is why I require your trust. You’re so much more important than you realize. And I need you to understand your value.”

You’re alarmed by Lottie’s proximity and attempt to wiggle away. But her grip overpowers yours effortlessly, which is a shocker. For all you knew, the wilderness could be injecting her with extra nutrients this second to keep her bones stronger.

Lottie presses her crotch against your ass. She’s laying on top of you, her dress flowing up a bit. Her hips grind against you, her bulge becoming more prominent.

“W-What kind of lessons are this?” You stutter. “W-What does this have to do with the wilderness? Lottie, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

Lottie’s arms attach themselves around your waist.

“Our bodies,” Lottie says. “They have to touch, bare skin on bare. It’s the most intimate form of human connection. It’ll ensure your connection with the woods is thorough.”

Before you can hurl another question her way, Lottie reaches for your shorts. She tugs them down until they reach the dirt floor. Then, her hands reach for your shirt.

“I can feel it already,” Lottie purrs in your ear. “It’s so much deeper. I already feel like I’m understanding you slightly more. Are you experiencing that feeling too?”

You shake your head, swallowing your hiccups. You’re frozen with fear and you wish you had one of the other girls around to save you. You couldn’t even fully blame yourself. You didn’t purposefully follow Lottie. She took you by your hand and forced you into her world of ‘wonders.’

Her hands slip under your shirt. Her fingers tease your nipples, humming with approval. You cough, unable to wriggle out from underneath Lottie’s body. Her bulge gets harder and stiffer with every movement and you’re worried you accidentally rub your clothed cunt against her cock. The last thing you need is to entice her further.

“This is great,” Lottie rasps. “I can tell that your body’s different just from its touch. There’s magic inside of you. You’re divine, perfect for experimentation.”

What the fuck? You weren’t some sort of lab subject? Again, you fail to fight off Lottie. You attempt to roll over so that she’s the one on the ground. But Lottie planned for that course of action. She’s got every weakness of yours figured out. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from her insanity.

Lottie stops fondling your buds, reaching her hands into her underwear. She grips her cock by its heavy shaft. Her dick is so huge that even one hand isn’t enough to properly secure it. However, she doesn’t pull down her panties just yet.

Does she think you’ll pull down your undergarments first? No way. You’re not going along with her trickery. You’re smarter than this. Perhaps you still have a chance to find a path back to camp and you can tell the others what Lottie tried to do with you.

More ideas pop into your mind but none come to fruition. And the more useless thinking you do, the more time Lottie has to undress you completely.

And she does just that. Well, mostly. She rips your underwear almost clean off, exposing your bare cunt to both the wilderness and its prophet.

“Shhhh,” Lottie coos. “Don’t make too much of a commotion. The wilderness won’t like it if you resist. It wants a smooth process, a firm understanding.”

“You’re a creep!” You shout. “You’re such a creep, Lottie. What is the matter with you!? Let the fuck go of me now!”

“You are the messenger,” Lottie informs. “You are the one it wants me to feel. You are the one whose body I’ve been trusted with. The wilderness expects a connection from you. Not Travis, not Akilah, not any other soul.”

“Leave me alone,” you whine, hearing the sound of fabric. Lottie takes her panties off and holds up the edge of her dress, so you get a good glance at what will crack you open. You’re not prepared to feel fuller than you’ve ever experienced before. You could deal with a lot less new experiences. Every new experience in the forest seemed to deprive you of mental fortitude day by day.

“Hush. Hush, hush. You’re so delicate, my little flower. You’re perfect for me.”

Lottie rubs the red tip of her cock against your folds. There’s hardly any wetness and Lottie doesn’t seem ready to lube you up either. There’s a certain haste to the friction and she clearly wants to ram inside of you and be as close to you as humanly possible. There was no warmth and bonding like being inside the body of another. But Lottie couldn’t cannibalize you. She needed you alive and well, willing to pass on the wilderness’ message.

In an act of scarce mercy, Lottie spits on her veiny cock a couple of times. She pumps the saliva along her shaft, a small amount hardly covering the surface. You yelp as Lottie whacks her dick against your entrance, enjoying your pussy pulsing as a satisfying reaction.

“Do you trust me?” Lottie asks.

Of course you don’t. Did she actually expect you to respond with a yes? Was there a shred of sanity left in that head jumbled with conspiracies and false prophecies? The potential answer scares you.

“N-No,” you utter.

Lottie rejects your answer. She thrusts forward, gagging your mouth with her fingers.

Your cry of pain is muffled. You are nothing but a bundle of nerves, forced to endure rough penetration. Lottie senses your discomfort, but there’s no halt to her movements. There’s desperation and need, but the only gentle part about this is the words entering your ears.

“Sweet little doll,” Lottie giggles, her cock stretching you out. “Look at the way those eyes flutter. Tell me, do you feel it in your soul? Do you feel how close we are? Do you feel us connecting on the basis of you being my student?”

What a twisted teacher. You couldn’t wait to warn the other members when you got back so they could hopefully toss out this creep. Your nails scratch the coarse floor of dirt. Your legs kick the ground like a tantrum is being thrown, except it’s a justified one.

“The fear is part of the ride,” Lottie encourages. “Think of this as a sacrifice. This may do away with your purity, but this brings us closer together. You’ll understand. You’ll get it once we’re done.”

You don’t believe a lick of Lottie’s speech. You sob against her fingers, nibbling on them until she pushes them to the back of your throat. You gag, nearly barfing at the sensation of being split open and practically choked.

“Take it,” Lottie grunts, her cock throbbing against your tight, velvety walls.

She removes her fingers from your mouth and holds you by your shoulders. Your body is forced into the dirt, her shirt covered with brown as Lottie uses your body like a fleshlight.

“Too much,” you cry. “Lottie, you’re too big. Y-You should take it out. Please, you’re way too big.”

“We could’ve done this an easier way. But you had to be difficult. You refused to listen to the sounds the wilderness offered. Now, this is the only way to get you to behave.”

Lottie kisses the back of your neck roughly, her cock still pounding away. Your body grows weaker by the moment and you internally say a prayer, wondering if you’ll ever be free now that she’s rested a claim on you.

If you were supposed to be a little flower, this felt like having all your petals torn off. You were wilted, growing ill from lack of nourishment and brightness in your life. Lottie was shielding you from the sun you deserved. When Lottie put you in your place, there was only darkness. Nothing but pitch black hell.

“Somehow your reaction is still not worse than I expected,” Lottie states proudly. “I’ll be able to tame you pretty soon. You’re going to make the perfect disciple. I just need you to understand why I’m doing this, why you need this.”

You don’t have the capacity to listen to her reasonings right now. You just desire an end to the cruelty.

Lottie’s balls slap against your ass, the slapping sound of flesh causing you to feel more nauseous. Hatred occupied every crevice of your mind. Lottie stole your innocence just for her own agenda. Yet, she still remained certain that she was doing the correct thing. She’s blinded by the belief of a moral obligation.

Or maybe you’re not so sure. Maybe she knows what she’s doing is wrong, but she can’t bring herself to care. Maybe Lottie is more callous than you imagined. Maybe you should’ve doubted her sooner. Maybe you—

“So fucking close little dove,” Lottie whispers. “You can take it for me. I know you can.”

“Lottie no,” you begin protesting. “No, n-no. You’ll give me a baby. I-I don’t want a baby. P-Please, at least don’t cum inside.”

“You don’t get to make the decision. I’m only following what it wants.”

You thrash around, hoping Lottie’s cock will pop out of you. But your pussy only squeezes harder and secures Lottie nice and snug in your delicate cunt.

Lottie parts her lips, small gasps leaving as her pace reaches its highest point. She claws into your skin, her hips moving on their own. Both of you are linked by sweat and musk, the trees watching as a pair of survivors fuck raw in isolation.

Memories of Lottie flash into your head. Her taking the leadership role during winter, her leading the hunt on Travis during one faithful night. You pondered if you would be her next victim, if a second Doomcoming was in order.

You chase that thought of your brain. You can’t afford to bring yourself more dread.

Suddenly, a splash of warmth seeps into your cunt. Ropes and ropes of hot fluids drown your pussy in white. Lottie’s eyes rolls back, phrases in French being murmured as she empties herself. She keeps you pinned down until she’s sure that no drop has been plunged into your poor, abused hole.

You lay in the dirt, not accepting that you and Lottie are now tethered. You are a child of the wilderness and no matter how far you run, Lottie’s mark will not leave you. You’re stuck with her until one of you passes. You’re only hers and you’ll have to deal with the fact.

“The wilderness will be pleased,” Lottie says with a smile wider than ever before. “We’ll have food for months.”

The wilderness has had its wishes granted. So has Lottie. But at what cost?

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 17

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, ANGST, badly proofread Wordcount: 3.4K A/C: short chapter to set everything up for the FINAL chapter of the Before London section! enjoy this :) i'm sorry...

-

Before London

three weeks later

“Hey baby, come in,” Lala steps aside to let me into her and Arike’s beautiful apartment. Despite how quickly I had grown close with the two of them, I hadn’t been here since that night early in the season. That night I chose wrong.

“You look gorgeous!” I smile, holding a bag of pastries and two iced matchas in my other hand.

“So do you Zari,” the older woman smiles as I make my way in. The AC brings relief quickly, August in Dallas not any cooler than July. “I love the shorts.”

I smooth over my white linen shorts, the matching button up left open with a black tube top underneath. I follow Lala to the couch, sitting down on the opposite corner, letting my hair down from a clip.

“Where’s Arike?” I ask, handing the other matcha to her.

“Practice,” Lala says. “I swear she doesn’t do anything but train now that it looks like they’re making it to the playoffs.”

I chuckle, sipping on my drink. Indeed the Dallas Wings had really turned it around since the early season, Arike and her had become a feared backcourt duo already. Things were looking positively bright for the team despite everything else.

“So, how are you doin’?” Lala asks.

“Oh, I’m good, lots of work but… Good. And you?”

Lala looks at me tilting her head and reaching out to stroke my arms comfortingly. “Zari, I mean how are you really?”

Gulping, I move my gaze from her intruding eyes to the matcha in my hands. I know what she wants to talk about. And I should talk about it to someone. But it was easier to just bury myself in work. 

It had been three weeks since me and Paige spoke. Of course there were forced conversations here and there, running into her at the apartment building, interviews and content we had to do together. But we got through those, we’re both professionals after all. Other than that there hadn’t been many words.

I need some space Paige. I’m sorry it has to be like this. I really care about you, but I have to think what’s right for me. It’s all too much too soon and I need to think about what I want. I’m sorry.

Izzie please could I just come over and talk abt this. Please.

I think it’s best we don’t talk for a little while Paige.

Those were the last texts between me and her. Radio silence after that. I guess exactly what I’d asked for, except it was killing me inside. I felt sick all the time, unable to eat or sleep. The nausea was overwhelming, leaving me to nibble on my food until I felt sick to my stomach. It showed, I could tell I looked tired, worn. 

“I’m… hanging in there, you know?” I finally answer.

Lala nods, stroking my arm caringly. “What’s going on with you and Paige?”

My heart stumbles. When I was little I had a habit of pressing bruises on my legs to make them hurt - hearing her name felt like that, echoing in my ear painfully. I bite down on my lower lip to stop the trembling. Stop Izzie. Stop.

“I just, I don’t think I’m ready for what she wants,” I mumble, ignoring the burn in my eyes or the scratchiness of my throat. “She told me she loved me.”

She nods knowingly. I guess Paige had told her all about it too. It hurts me to know I hurt her enough to have her coming to Lala and Arike for advice.

“And you don’t feel the same?” She asks, biting down on the pastry.

Without hesitation I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… My past and I haven’t healed enough yet. I keep projecting my fears onto Paige and it’s not fair. It’s just gonna keep getting worse until… Until she realises I’m not a good person. Or a lovable person.”

“Zari, you know that’s not true,” Lala comforts me. But I don’t need comforting over it. I know it’s true. I’ve accepted it. I shrug, taking a sip of my matcha.

“So you love her,” Lala doesn’t ask but states as a fact. My heart sinks. I don’t know what I feel. Perhaps she’s right, perhaps I do. But everytime I dared to think it might be true, I remember what happens to me when I fall in love. What happened the last time, bound to happen again.

“I don’t know how I feel,” I admit, my voice shakier than I’d like. Inhaling deeply, I say the words that force me to face reality. “I think if it’s this hard already… It will never work out.”

“Respectfully, I disagree,” Lala says surprisingly. “You two are really good together, good for each other.”

“Then why is it so hard to make it work?” I ask, my eyes welling up. In a perfect world, I would just want her, and that would be enough. But in this one, nothing about this was easy. I had to live in reality, not in some fairytale I had created in my mind.

“Me and Rike had issues too at first,” she says. I furrow my brows. Her and Arike? But they were perfect.

Like reading my mind she chuckles. “I know, but trust me we did. It took a lot of work and resilience to get to this point. But we both knew it was worth it because in the end we were meant to be together, y’know.”

“How do you know it’s worth it?” I ask.

The woman smiles, taking my hand and squeezing it. “That’s for you to figure out, Zari.”

-

“I like your accent”

“I like your accent”

“I like your accent”

I look at the clip over and over, Gabby eyeing her up and down before walking off. Jealousy runs through my veins straight into my heart. I guess I didn’t have the right to be jealous, not anymore.

My mind could barely wrap around what had happened between us. I wanted to blame Trey, that her advances had freaked Izara out. I wanted to blame Gabby, that she got into Izara’s head and made her change her mind about me. But I knew it wasn’t true. It was just easier to blame someone else than to accept that the fault was mine.

I couldn’t believe how I had behaved that night. Izzie, who had been brave enough to be vulnerable about her past, had revealed parts of herself to me that she hadn’t to anyone else. And I had made a promise to protect her heart. And I had done the complete opposite.

A horrible dread loomed over me, preying on me behind every corner. The only time I could escape it was on the court, so most of my days were spent at our practicing facilities with Arike. She did her best to get me to talk about me and Izzie, but I had become skillful in the art of avoidance. Yet, when I climbed up the stairs of our building, past her door, my heart sank each time. The one place I couldn’t avoid her was home

I miss you

I write the text, finger hovering over the send button before deleting it. No. She needed space.

And if I loved her at all, I'd give it to her. Even if it killed me inside.

-

I yawn as I hold my coffee cup, inhaling the comforting smell. I hadn’t really been sleeping well in the past weeks, apparent by the layers of makeup I had to add to my undereyes that had darkened. 

“Are the girls ready soon?” The set director yells, peeking her head into the dressing room. 

“About to get dressed,” the stylist said, handing around grey, black and white boxers. Woxer - the women’s boxer brand had got some of the Wings to do a photoshoot, so now the players were lined up in chairs, getting their makeup and hair done in the early morning.

I’m trying my best to keep my eyes at the floor, but every now and then my gaze flickers to Paige, as she laughs lightheartedly with Lou, without a care in the world.

Trey’s on his phone beside me, texting quietly. 

“Hey Trey, could you take some pics from right here please?” I ask, whispering, watching the way the player’s impressions reflect on the mirror.

Trey, with a quiet huff, rolls his eyes but does as I asked wordlessly. Ever since that night he tried to kiss me, he had been cold and distant. It sucked, because I thought we were friends. But I was never a friend to him, I saw that now. Still, I felt guilty. Maybe I had led him on. Perhaps I’d been too harsh.

The girls change, all standing around in their boxers and sports bras. I can’t tear my eyes from Paige, her tan skin against the white cotton. The effort she had put in had done favors to her - her weight had gone up, shoulders broad and arms grown especially in her biceps, much like her thighs. Oh God. This couldn’t possibly get worse for me.

And then it does.

Two people walk in, holding a body oil and begin to lather the players up one by one. My body wants me to forget the past three weeks and rub the oil into Paige’s skin myself as I watch these strangers’ massage her body. Her muscles look more defined, smooth skin glowing as she looks at herself in the mirror and grins.

“Holy shit,” she chuckles and flexes in the mirror. “Goddamn I look sexy.”

My heart flutters, eyes burning suddenly like they did every time she spoke around me. It was so easy to imagine everything was okay between us. God, I wish they were. But I didn’t know anymore. Love shouldn’t be this hard. So it can’t be real love.

Mine and Paige’s gazes meet in the mirror momentarily, but I quickly look to the ground, walking with the crew to the set doing everything I can not to even look the blonde’s way.

“The girls are gonna love this,” Arike chuckles as they get positioned in front of the camera. I smile to myself. She wasn’t wrong. The Wings’ demographic had changed immensely, crowds full of girls ogling over each player - mostly over my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, I mean. I guess. We were still just on a break.

The girls go through the group photos, moving on to singular shots. They all look amazing, and I know this campaign was a good one to get for them. I sip on my coffee, posting teasers on social media when the set director taps my shoulder.

“Hey, could you be a doll and help out a bit,” she smiles. I glance around, everyone else is running around, helping the other girls.

“Of course, whatever you need,” I reply, putting my phone down. Only to see her hand me a bottle of baby oil, pointing to the set where Paige is standing, getting final touches for her hair. You have to be fucking joking. What did I do in my past life to deserve this.

Too nice to resist, or to ask for someone else to do it, I take a deep breath before walking over to the blonde. Her eyes widen momentarily as I approach her. Paige clears her throat, and bites down on her bottom lip.

“Hey,” I say quietly, showing her the bottle. 

“Sup,” she replies, looking everywhere but at me as I pour the oil onto my hands.

“Sorry, they needed help,” I murmur, bracing myself before walking behind her and beginning to oil up her newly carved out back - not that I should notice or care. But I do.

 I don’t miss the goosebumps forming on her skin as I rub her body, kneeling down to do her legs. My hands massage her calves, knees and finally her thighs. My body was betraying me, forcing me to take gulps of air as quietly as I could as my hands wander over Paige’s body. Every nerve inside me feels as if on fire. I do my best to ignore it, but a nagging feeling in my head tells me she feels it too.

Getting back up face to face with her, I begin to massage the oil into her hands. Those strong, long fingers, one by one. Her hand curls slightly in mine. Just enough to make me wonder if I imagined it.

Suddenly her voice cuts through the tension. “So, how you been?” There’s no malice, no anger. A genuine question. It catches me off guard.

“Um, good. I mean okay,” I murmur, my eyes glued on Paige’s arms so I didn’t have to look into her ocean blue eyes. “How about you?”

She nods slowly. “Okay too,” she says in a hoarse voice, her breath hitching when my long nails scratch against her abs before rubbing in the oil. We go quiet, the hussle of the set seems distant around us.

“All done,” I say, glancing up to let myself take a dip in her eyes just for a moment. I nearly drown, wanting to say more. But there was nothing to say.

Paige looks down at me, exhaling shakily.

“Thanks, Iz,” she hums. Hearing my name come out of her mouth again felt euphoric. In that moment I want to make it work more than anything.

-

“Gotta be kidding,” I mumble to myself after the second time I tried to wash my body clean of the oil. It didn’t help. I kept finding it everywhere. As I’m about to hop back into the shower, my phone rings. Dad.

“Sup Bobby,” I answer, putting on my best act of my normal self. Though I was just slightly elated from feeling Izzie’s hands on me earlier. It was enough to keep me going for the rest of the day. However, it reminded me of how badly I missed her. And I did. Every damn day.

“I’m not loving that nickname,” my dad jokes. “Was just asking if you’re still flying in next week?”

Fuck. I had completely forgotten I had promised to show up to surprise my little brother who had been missing me badly according to my dad. Next week was the only time I could, before the playoffs would consume my life.

“Yeah, ‘course,” I mumble, sitting on the corner of my bed in my robe.

“Drew’s gonna be so damn happy,” he says happily into the phone. I chuckle dryly in response. I would die for my brother, but it was the worst timing with everything going on. “You bringing your girl too? Would be nice to see Zari!”

I nearly hiss at the sound of her name. Clenching my fist I shake my head as if my dad could see it.

“Nah,” is all I can muster up.

“Uh oh,” he says into the phone. “Trouble in paradise?”

I exhale, trying to think of a way to lie myself out of this one. Except I don’t have the strength to. So I tell him everything, the I love you, the bar fights, the secrecy, every little detail that had gone right and put me and Izzie on a path we weren’t supposed to be on. This couldn’t be God’s way.

“Shit,” he says bluntly. I chuckle bitterly, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

My dad stays on the line, quiet for a while before speaking. “You know, sometimes love doesn’t happen at the speed you wish it did.”

I listen. He’s right. Much like Izzie made schedules of her entire life, I created a schedule in my head of our relationship. One I was disappointed she wasn’t following. Despite being very aware of her past.

“It don’t mean she doesn’t love you, or care about you just as much as you do about her. But people bring different baggage into their relationships and it just… Changes how they view love y’know? I met that girl. She spent the entire time laughing at my stupid jokes and talking with your old man. She loves you. But maybe to say it outloud for her means something else than it does for you.”

I hate that he’s right. My mind jumps back to Izzie telling me about Jasper, the way she was trembling and hyperventilating when I accidentally snapped at her - all because of one man that had really messed her up. She was always hard to read. I knew everything she told me about her engagement was likely just the tip of the iceberg. How could I be so impatient and careless with her. 

“I mean maybe you just gotta be patient - Not easy for you I know but... Give her some time. She’ll come around Paige. Just do something small to show her that you’ll be there when she’s ready.”

His words really hit me. I knew exactly what to do. Telling my dad I’ll call him later I get dressed in a rush, checking the clock. She’d be home in about five minutes. I knew this because of course I had memorised her schedule.

I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere. - P

Hurrying downstairs, I leave in front of her apartment door the note on top of the real Cadbury’s chocolate bar I ordered from England - the exact one Izzie had told me she missed on our first date. 

-

5, 6, 7… I count the reps in my head as I do shoulder press, sweat trickling down my back. The burn in my muscles makes me shut my eyes, Drake blasting from my earbuds. I let out a deep sigh of relief when I finally place the weights down onto the ground. The weight room was the only place I found my mind going quiet - the only place I didn’t worry about me and Izzie. 

“Paige,” Arike jogs to the room, out of breath. “Bro.”

I turn, expecting to see her usual, smiley self. Instead I’m faced with serious, furrowed brows, frowning Arike. Something’s wrong. Very wrong.

“Yeah?” I ask, taking off my earbud. She walks to me, shoving her phone onto my hand.

-

I run the hallways of College Park, my sneakers squeaking against the floor echoing up and down the halls. Where the hell is she? This can’t be happening. No fucking way this is happening.

My heart feels like it might burst. Like it’s trying to race out of my chest as I look for the familiar dark waves, the sharp green eyes, the confident posture of the woman I loved. Where the fuck is Izara?

My stomach churns. I feel sick, not just for me. But for Izzie. Almost mindlessly I check behind every unlocked door, every corner. But I can’t find her.

“Trey!” I yell, running after the man walking ahead of me. He turns, clearly still angry from what happened at the bar. I don’t care. It’s the least of my worries right now. “You seen Izzie?”

He rolls his eyes but shakes his head. “Not since this morning.”

“Fuck,” I mumble and jog off the other direction. Never had I cursed College Park for being such a maze before. The fluorescent lights were making my eyes dry and my head spinned. Finally I decide to stop. 

Closing my eyes I listen. I hear it. The clacking of her heels.

It’s faint. But it’s her.

Walking toward the sound behind a corner I find her, like some miracle. But seeing her only makes me feel more sick to my stomach.

“Izzie,” I pant out, my lower lip trembling but I bite down on it to make it stop.

“P- Paige? What’s wrong?” She asks, immediately taken back by my expression.

Without a word, I hand her my phone. On the screen it’s playing a video with over 500k views. From three weeks ago, Izzie and I, hugging and dancing against each other in the dim, purple hue of the club lights.  And finally, facing each other and clearly, without a doubt, kissing each other passionately carelessly. The entire moment just for us, now shared with everyone online.

-

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @enchantingesme @ohmybueckers @potatobears-world @st4yyyy @wnbawag @maryjanewatsons @naeswrrldd @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @paige05bby @gayflygirl @saverdelrey @xoxosierralane @katemartinsfuturewife @nicebellee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @cowboybueckers

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

“You look fine in that suit.” Tommy pauses briefly, then he adds, a little more subdued, “I’m sorry. That’s inappropriate today.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” Buck says, confused. That much is true: Tommy, standing on the station’s rooftop terrace with his arms crossed, doesn’t turn around. He looks like a man enjoying the sun and the view, but Buck knows that’s not true. Without saying a word, he takes a few steps to stand next to Tommy. The view is spectacular, but they’re standing a little too close to the edge for his taste. Perhaps that's ambiguous.

“Noticed you earlier.” 

“We’re all wearing the same uniform,” Buck remarks, and Tommy just shrugs. 

Buck realizes that it was a small, very gentle and spontaneous confession, and he wishes he could tell Tommy that he understands, because he felt the same way. He wishes he could tell him he noticed Tommy, who, even though he will be one of the pallbearers, quietly slipped in through the door and kept himself in the background. He hasn't exchanged words with the others, not even with Chimney, and he hasn't looked at Buck, just like he’s not looking at him now. But Buck has seen him, and he wishes he could tell Tommy about that little sting in his heart, back then. Yet his throat is tight—not because he thinks it would be inappropriate to say anything, but because the reason they are here is only minutes away. The atmosphere downstairs is so devastating that Buck desperately needs a break.

“How did you know I was here?” Tommy asks.

“Well, if you're running away, where else would you go but up?”

Maybe that came out a little too harsh, because now Tommy turns his head, surprise and a little hurt in his gaze. 

“I-I mean...” Buck struggles to find the right words. Happens a lot lately, ever since Bobby’s death. “I get it. Nobody wants to be here today.”

“A lot of people want to pay their last respects to the captain, Evan.”

“Yeah, but that makes it so final. Tommy… I'll never see him again. None of us want to be here today. Chimney is tearing himself apart because he blames himself. And to be honest, Athena was pretty mean to him. I know it's just grief, but she was also close to not even showing up for the funeral because she said she had to solve a case. Can you imagine that? At Bobby's funeral?”

He pauses briefly, sniffs, and then continues in a staccato, as if all these words have to come out right now. 

“I would have preferred to stay at home either, honestly, but Eddie and his constant nagging about the changes I made in his house drove me out. Well, him and Ravi, who’s way too serious. He shouldn’t be so serious. Everyone is so sad, Tommy. Hen is crying all the time, and I wish I could too.”

Tommy's smile is gentle and sad. “Hold on a little longer,” he says softly. “Just… try. For Bobby, okay? I don’t think I can stand to see you cry again…” He trailed off, looking in the distance.

“W-what do you mean?” Buck asks with a frown.

“The military had the lab’s surveillance cameras on monitor. You didn’t know?”

“No. Wait. You saw Bobby die? That’s horrible, Tommy.”

Tommy looked ready to shrug it off, but this time, Buck wouldn’t have it. He's reaching out, because it's the right thing to do; he's pulling Tommy into a hug. They stand like this for a while, heartbeat to heartbeat; without a word, not moving. Grief unites, someone had once said to Buck, and now he understands what that means. Finally, Tommy gently withdraws.

“Thanks,“ his voice is merely a breath.

“We should talk. Later,” Buck urgently returns. Tommy raises a brow, “Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do,” Buck insists. “It's long overdue. We're really bad at it, but that’s no excuse.”

Tommy smiles indulgently, like he always does around Buck. “True. I just don't think this is the right place or time.”

“Oh,” says Buck. “You're probably right. Well. W-what are you doing on Saturday?”

[konigofmyheart]

long way down ᥫ᭡ pt 4 (end)

MDNI!!!

part 1 ᥫ᭡ part 2 ᥫ᭡ part 3

you took the long way down, but you’ve found love with könig…

(virgin fem!reader, implied age gap: reader is mid 20’s, reader’s ex is drunk + reckless, mentions of blood and light injuries; he gets dealt with then SMUT)

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

people always say time slows down in intense situations, and you can definitely attest to that now. your breath catches in your throat, your knees grow a bit weak as stevens takes another step towards you. he’s drunk off his ass, you can tell by the way he stumbles before you even catch the glint of the beer bottle in his hand. the world narrows to this single alley, the sound of the crowds fading away as you foolishly hope against hope he won't even notice you, that he’ll just throw up in this random alley and carry on to the base, but-

“it’s all your fault”, he hiccups, bleary eyes fighting to focus on you as he takes another step forward.

you open your mouth to… what? respond? warn him away? it doesn't matter because not a sound even comes out. it’s like the night air that refreshed you so nicely mere minutes ago has now stolen your voice. it helps that he’s always been able to talk at you, not needing a response before rambling on. 

“do you see how i am? …because of you. i’m like this because of you and that-” he mumbles something unintelligible, bracing a hand on the wall to regain his balance. 

this would usually be the point you run, but run where, exactly? even drunk as he is, you’re sure it’d only be too easy for him to catch at you and stop your escape. further down the alley isn’t an option either, you see a faded wall closing that end off. it’d be thoroughly trapping yourself if you head deeper in. it comes down to calming him enough so he’ll let his guard down, just enough for you to slip past. 

“you really don’t look okay. are your friends around?” you ask, your voice tight with fear, praying they’re just around the corner and they’ll come collect him.

“those dickheads… they’re just like everyone else. always laughing at me, never staying-”

smart guys. they caught on to what type of person stevens is quicker than you did. it makes sense, their judgement wouldn’t be clouded by any affection for him, no flashes of the boy you grew up with, of the way he sometimes would regret his outbursts, even if his apologies never really fixed anything. 

he’s within arms reach now, the sharp scent of his many drinks stinging your nose. too close for comfort, yet the second you take a step back, he takes one forward. 

“you should head inside, get some water… or i can go get it for you-” just let me out. 

“so you can go running to your man?” he takes a shuddering breath, his bloodshot eyes flaring with anger. “why do you have to do all this shit? why’d you have to bring him in between us?”

okay, now this is familiar. the blaming, the washing his hands of any wrongdoing to act hurt. 

“that has nothing to do with this. just go back to base, you need water, sleep-” just like before, redirect. make it about him, about how worried you are for him, stroke his ego. 

“shut up!” he shouts, tossing the bottle aside. you flinch at the crash of the glass, practically squeaking as he closes in, your back against the wall you admired the stars from, except this time nothing feels like it’ll be okay. 

“baby, come on… i hate seeing that fucker’s hands all over what’s mine” he slurs, his hands snaking around your waist. 

“benjamin, let go.”

he laughs, a short, raspy sound, tilting his head as he looks down at you. “oh, i’m benjamin now? your man makes you call me that? what happened to benji?” he ends with a sing song voice, actual tears welling in his eyes. 

he’s fully unwell. you’re here, trapped with this unstable guy, the stars just blinking down as if to say they wish they could help, but they’re miles too far. you could cry too, rather you’re the only one here who has the right to cry, but that won’t help a thing. you grit your teeth as he leans closer, burying his nose in your hair, still rambling on about the past, about how good things were, about how you’re such a bitch for moving on. the minute you feel his skin against yours, just his nose brushing against your cheek as he clumsily tries to kiss you, something inside you snaps.  

you shove at him with all your might, wanting him away from you, away from your life, from memory itself-

he snarls- actually snarls like some animal- and then he’s moving quick at you, his entire body tensed for action. 

stiletto’s lessons, her advice and tips run through your mind like a film reel, and before you know it, you’ve landed a punch against stevens’s jaw. it was a clumsy punch, and for a fraction of a second you believe it hurt you more than it hurt him, but when he cups at his face, a look of absolute shock across his features, you know he’s feeling the same throbbing pain you feel in your knuckles. stiletto’s voice rings through your head, reminding you to “strike fast, the moment you stop is the moment you give up your turn”. you sure don’t want to see what he’d do when it’s his turn. the one thing that’s kept him from being a full monster is he’s never physically hurt you, but the unsteady shake to his hands tells you that could change right now if you aren’t quick enough. you’re thanking all the stars for letting you meet stiletto, for having her be so kind as to teach you how to defend yourself, for now you’re elbowing him in the nose, buying yourself time with that blooming pain in his face to strike right under his ribs, knocking the breath from him. 

though he’s been at this longer than you have, it's obvious he never expected you to actually fight back. that was his mistake, his shock and disbelief making him hesitate, giving you the perfect opening. your breath comes in sharp gasps, your own hands shaking as you watch him touch at his upper lip, his fingers coming away shining with his own warm blood. 

something in you wants to curl up now, to hide somewhere- anywhere- but there’s nowhere to go as his face contorts, the blood only adding to the nightmarish effect. at least they won’t be able to say you didn’t go down without a fight, right?

the next seconds seem like a dream, your shuddering breath as you see him launch himself at you again, his arms positioned in preparation to block any attack now, but he doesn’t have to worry about that. you did your part, said your peace, sometimes things just go south like this-

you flinch against the wall as a sudden flash of someone else- könig- intercepts stevens, a grunt leaving the latter as he falls onto his ass on the concrete.

könig looks bigger than he ever has before, drawn up to his full height as he stands in front of you, looking as immovable as a wall. “leave. this is your only warning”, he says, his voice so eerily steady and at odds with the way his hands are shaking, as if it's taking every ounce of his self control to not tear stevens apart. 

you startle as you feel two hands wrap around your shoulders, stiletto now hugging you to her, and you gratefully lean in to her warmth, wishing you could curl up in her arms and forget everything, but stevens’ growl brings you back to this cold, dark alley, to the blood on his face and the ache in your hand-

stevens has always been headstrong, downright stubborn, even when it’s clear his boldness will only yield disastrous results. it doesn’t surprise you one bit when he springs back to his feet and lunges forward again, like he’ll draw könig’s blood, like he won’t end up a mess on the concrete- permanently this time. you blink, and könig has him entirely pinned to the floor, stevens looking like a child compared to könig’s imposing figure- so righteous and solid he could be mistaken for some mythical god. stevens is struggling, all insults and groans, his hands and feet scrabbling at the ground, trying to find purchase to shove könig off, and könig-

könig is so still it’s eerie, his only movement a tilt to his head as he regards stevens, as if he has all the time in the world to weigh his life in his hands. 

stiletto gently takes your hand- the one you landed the first punch with- into hers, her wincing on your behalf as you watch the two men with a numb detachment. “ay, that’s gotta sting, huh, tesoro?” 

könig’s head snaps up at that, his expression instantly softening as it zeros in on you, the tight expression of shock on your face crushing his heart. 

“schatzi-” he begins, his voice so worried and sorry- for what you don’t know- but then horangi is joining this gathering, rubbing at his jaw as he takes in the scene, piecing the story together from your split knuckles to the way könig is pinning stevens to the floor with barely restrained rage. 

years working together make it easy for könig to nod at horangi, horangi giving a terse nod back, communicating silently before he goes to secure stevens as könig shoves off of him, all of könig’s attention now focused on you. 

it's like night and day, the man that was pinning stevens down gone now as he gently takes your hand from stiletto, quietly tutting under his breath, his brows crinkling together under his hood.

“meine liebe- are you- what happened?” he asks, your heart clenching at the way he’s fumbling for words, like it's physically hurting him to see you so scared. 

you manage a shaky “i’m okay”, before stevens protests as horangi pulls him to his feet interrupt. 

“you bitch,” he spits at you, his eyes practically shooting daggers. “you broke my fucking nose.”

“be thankful that’s all that’s broken. were it up to me…” stiletto shoots back with a harsh laugh, her grip on your shoulders tightening. 

könig strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, very carefully avoiding getting his touch too close to your knuckles, his warmth seeping into your hand and over to your very soul. 

“gather your things from base. you’re done,” he says cooly, not even bothering to raise his voice at stevens.

stevens splutters, squirming in horangi’s hold. “what?! you cant-”

“you just assaulted a civilian, and then attempted to assault your superior”, könig cuts in. “i've wanted you gone months ago, yet i tried to be professional. you’ve just given me justification for firing you, nicely wrapped up with witnesses and everything.”

now stevens really loses it, thrashing wildly in horangi’s hold as he curses everything, down to the very stars themselves. 

stiletto kisses the top of your head, giving you a small smile and a “well done, bella” before she's moving to help horangi lead stevens away. 

“we’ll have him off base and banned asap. he won’t bother you anymore, königin,” horangi calls from the entrance of the alley. you nod, even laughing a little as you watch stiletto demonstrate all the ways she would have beaten stevens up as they escort him away. 

“i wish i was as spunky as her” you say quietly, hugging könig’s jacket around yourself, a constant shaking taking over you now that you’re truly spent. könig opens his arms, leaning back a little to give you more than enough space to reject it, to not push you further than you've been pushed tonight, but you gratefully bury yourself against his chest, feeling your heart piece itself back together bit by bit. 

“you did great, schatzi. you did exactly what you should have. i’m so proud of you” he murmurs into your hair, and though it’s must make his back sore to be hunched down like this, you two don’t move for what feels like eons, your watering eyes blurring the stars into a smeared painting as you finally let yourself feel everything that’s happened tonight.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

“you look like a racoon”, you tease, smiling as you catch sight of könig sitting on the edge of the bed without his mask. his eye black smudged across his eyes really does make him look like one of those fuzzy little guys. 

he watches as you towel your hair off, having showered as soon as you returned to base. 

“do i at least look like a cool racoon?” he asks, his voice soothingly filling the room. 

you nod, draping the now damp towel over the back of a chair as you take his cue- his hand held out, waiting for yours- and walk over to him. you place your hand in his, him quietly tutting again at the sight of your split skin over your knuckles. the smell of aloe fills your nose as he unscrews a little container, scooping some ointment out with a cotton swab before bringing it to your knuckles. könig gently rubs the back of your hand with his thumb when he feels you tense, quietly assuring you it won’t burn, and as always, he speaks the truth. the ointment feels so cooling, soothing the sting of your split knuckles perfectly. 

you smile to yourself as you watch him dutifully wrap a thin bandage around your hand, his hands as steady as if he were performing surgery. he’s always so gentle, so careful, even when he proposed you stay the night at base again, for fear stevens might show at your apartment. he instantly added on that he could stay in horangi’s room after you agreed to his idea, but you grabbed his hand, telling him you’d feel better if he was with you. he quietly shushed you when you said it was silly to still be scared, assuring you it was entirely reasonable considering everything, and that he’d be more than happy to be on guard duty if it made you feel safer. 

it really did, his mere presence helped you relax quicker. you kept your hand in his a little after he finished securing the bandage, debating on whether you should or shouldn’t break the comfortable silence, but you had to say it.

“sorry for going off on my own like that. none of that would have happened if i’d stayed inside with all of you,” you said quietly, feeling a bit guilty that the fun night ended up this way. 

könig gently guided you to meet his eyes, the blue like a slow stream on a summer afternoon. 

“none of what happened was your fault. tell me you understand that, schatzi”, he said, his voice the gentlest you’d ever heard it.

you nod, leaning in to his touch instinctively. his warmth feels like a balm for your very heart, and you can’t help but smile as he shifts his hand to cup your face, cooing a quiet endearment under his breath. the way his thumb strokes your cheek makes you feel so fragile, in the best way possible. like you’re some beautiful, priceless treasure he can’t believe he’s allowed to touch. that’s who he is. someone who’s so noble and caring with those he loves. you’ve been a witness to what a good friend he is, to how he’s never the type to take advantage of a situation even if everything has lined up perfectly for him. you wouldn’t believe someone like him actually existed if it wasn’t for the very real warmth blooming in your chest because of the way he’s looking at you. 

“what is it?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he answers your smile with one of his own. 

the worst that could happen already did, didn’t it? what’s there left to lose?

you take a deep breath, shifting on your feet, bracing yourself. 

“the reason i stepped out like that was because i realized this had become real to me… that i wanted you to hold me like that because you wanted to, that i wanted you to call me those names and really mean it, to actually be yours…”

könig hesitates a second, his thumb pausing its steady rhythm on your cheek. 

“schatzi, tonight was very… emotion-packed… you might not mean any of this in the morning-”

“i’m fully aware, but this has nothing to do with what happened. i’ve never meant anything more in my life,” you assure könig, the absolute sincerity in your eyes and voice giving him pause.

time slows again, but this time it’s more than welcome as you two regard each other. he hasn’t given you a verbal response, but könig is sure the look his face is telling you all you need to know. he feels like this is some sick dream, life is dangling the thing he wants most- for someone to see him and still want him- right in front of him, just to snatch it away when he wakes from this fantasy. everyday since knowing you has been a wonderful fantasy, having someone who wants to hear his stories, someone who laughs at his lame jokes, someone who trusts him with her deepest secrets…and somehow wants more? it’s almost too good to be true.

könig’s ever more sure it’s a dream as you take initiative, leaning forward to kiss him. he’d be embarrassed about the sound he makes- like he’s been wounded- if he wasn’t living the best moment of his entire life. your kiss is careful, soft, perfectly fitting the delicate atmosphere. his hands actually shake as the other comes up to cup your face too, könig barely managing to restrain from kissing you the way he’s been wanting to for so long. he could die happy just like this, holding his whole world in his hands, but you did go through something very alarming today, you need rest, time to think everything through properly. könig has half a mind to fight himself as he pulls away from the kiss, your warmth clinging to his lips like it knows it belongs there. 

your face falls a little as you open your eyes, a light blush on your cheeks. “ah, did i read that wrong? i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have-”   

könig stops you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before letting his hands fall away from your face, already missing the feeling of your skin against his palms as your apology trails off.

“of course not, schatzi. that was the best kiss of my entire life…i just don’t want to take advantage of tonight. i don’t want you to regret it. how about we talk about it in the morning, when you’ve had time to think?”

you smile at his words, nodding, and then he’s tucking you into bed, telling you he won’t be long. you slowly begin to doze off to the soundtrack of könig’s bedtime routine, the sound of the shower lulling you into a relaxed state. when he joins you in bed, you only have enough energy to reach out and hold his hand before you fall asleep.  

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

your head feels fuzzy when you finally come to the next day, a glance at your phone sending a jolt through you. it’s already well past midday… your disorientation only growing whenyou see könig’s side of the bed already empty, and hear another voice at the door. 

horangi’s quietly telling könig to let him know if you two need anything else, and you hear könig instantly answer. 

“thanks, man, i owe you one…”

“nah, anything for your girl,” horangi teases. “you should eat before it gets cold, though!” he says a bit louder, earning a harsh shushing from könig.  

you tug the covers up to your face, unable to stop the way your face heats at the sound of that. 

könig’s girl…

you could get used to that.

when you pop your head out of the blanket again, you’re greeted with könig’s back as he quietly sets the bag down on his desk, his face lighting up when he turns and sees you awake. 

“guten tag, schatzi… you up for eating? we got your favorite.”

you smile, sitting up in bed and thanking him, you stomach growling to back up your answer. you move to the edge of the bed, laying napkins across the bedspread to catch any crumbs as könig brings the desk chair over, and the two of you eat, könig telling you of his and horangi’s running favor tally. you’re sworn to secrecy about that time horangi got stuck in a vent because of all his gear, könig being the only one on the team able to reach high enough to yank him down, but you two are laughing together, today already a thousand times better than last night. 

you’ve just finished your last bite when horangi’s whispered “hey!” filters through the door. könig playfully groans, finishing up the last bite of his double portion before getting up to answer the door. 

“i’m already awake!” you call out, and horangi now confidently strides into the room, smiling at you. 

“oh good! i’m gonna have to take your man for a little- mission gone south, now they need to make some last minute plans. you don’t mind, right?” 

you shake your head, smiling at the way horangi’s purposely ignoring könig like he’s asking you if he can take your pet out for a bit. 

“go, it’s cleary important. i’ll be fine,” you assure them, and horangi nods at you, plucking up one of the many snacks könig requested for you. to könig’s dismay, it’s his favorite chocolate bar, something horangi clearly knows as he parades it across könig’s view as he makes his way back out. 

“the others are already in the meeting room. let’s go!” he calls, his voice fading as he heads down the hall. 

you set to cleaning, picking up the empty food containers before könig approaches the bed again. 

“leave it, schatzi, please. i’ll pick up when i get back”

“it’ll do me good. it’s relaxing”, you assured him, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. könig smiles at you, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head, promising to return as soon as he’s no longer needed at the meeting. 

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

you potter around the room, playing music from your phone and smiling at each little könig thing you find. when you change the bed sheets and go to put the dirty ones in the hamper in the corner, you notice a pile of haphazardly folded t-shirts on the clean side. you scoop the pile up, sorting through them on the bed before opening up his closet and finding the hangers. one of the t shirts is so well loved, the design of that old band he likes all cracked and faded on the front, with a list of dates going down the back. figures he’d have gone to that tour, you’d only heard a couple of their songs but they really did fit his vibe so well. you make sure to add those songs to your playlist queue, humming along to them when you move on to the bedside tables, clearing your glass from your side, wiping down the surface, then moving to his side. you clear his glass as well, also picking up a couple snack wrappers from breakfast yesterday, the brands and flavors already filed away in your mind as “könig’s favorites”.

you return two pens and a stack of post its to his desk across the room, opening the drawers to find where they belong. you set them with the others, smiling at the way they’re perfectly organized. he’s pretty tidy overall, he just gets the tiniest bit careless when he’s busy with work- and now you. a flash of pink catches your eyes as you’re about to close the drawer, and you feel your face heat as you recognize the envelope of your letter… it feels like ages since you sent that letter to stevens, a last ditch, misguided effort to get him back, to appease him over something that wasn’t your fault. 

you find yourself laughing a little as you settle on the edge of könig’s bed to reread your words, cringing at just how lost you were. the pictures set your face ablaze, the thought of könig seeing them making butterflies form in your stomach. you knew he’d seen the letter, he told you as much when you first spoke, but you didn’t think he’d keep it. you have half a mind to frame the envelope, to treat it as some magical token, for it led you to könig, someone actually worth the effort and love that you’d been offering to the wrong person. 

it’s funny, but you can’t help but be a little thankful towards stevens. if he hadn’t been such a dick, you wouldn’t know a good thing when you saw it. everyday knowing könig has felt like a dream, his attentiveness, his gentle consideration, his care making you feel like a princess. you finally know what it feels like to be loved, and to truly love him as well. the very thought makes a gentle warmth, like a slowly crackling fire, light in your chest, and you hold it close, practically dancing around the room as you tidy up some more. 

you’re finishing up wiping down the bathroom counter when you hear the door and his voice at the same time, könig’s keys jingling as he hangs them on a little hook on the wall alongside his mask, and shuts the door behind him. 

“schatzi? are you- ah,” he smiles as you poke your head out of the bathroom. 

he looks around the room, taking in every little change your cleaning accomplished, the room finally looking how it does when he has time to focus on putting everything where it belongs. 

“you are magic. everything looks perfect, liebe, thank you,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead again.

you hum in response, one of your hands coming up to rest on his arm.

“it’s the least i could do, i’ve been taking up so much of your time, könig. it was very relaxing, actually. how was your meeting?”

“all good, we sorted out a new evac route for the team on the ground. everything’s going smoothly again,” he replies. “but i didn’t come to bore you with my work…how about we go to the cafe for dinner? only if you want to, of course- i can also just make something for us.”

“the cafe sounds great! i’ve been wanting more pie, but…we should talk, no?” you take his hand, leading him to join you in sitting on the edge of the bed. 

you hold up the pink envelope, könig’s eyes widening at the sight, the look on his face matching that of a dog being scolded. 

“so, this letter-”

“i’m so sorry for keeping it, schatzi. i know it wasn’t for me, but i also couldn’t just toss it somewhere and let your number or pictures fall into the wrong hands-”

you smile at his carefulness, the sincerity in his apology making your heart swell.

“let me finish, or i’ll forget the phrasing i practiced!” you giggle, and he visibly relaxes upon realizing you aren’t upset. 

“okay, so- this letter wasn’t originally addressed to you, but i am forever thankful you found it. without this, i wouldn’t have found you. i wouldn’t know how nice it feels to have someone actually care for me, to think about my feelings, to always put me first. i now know what i was living before was a fake fantasy; you taught me what real love is. you taught me that love isn’t walking on eggshells around someone to not upset them, that it’s not putting up with hurtful things for the sake of the other-” you take a breath, emotion making your voice waver a little, and könig reaches out to gently rub your back, giving you the strength you need to continue. “- you are truly the best man i have ever known. i meant it yesterday- the kiss, and that i like you, so much it feels like its gonna make me burst,” you finish, blushing as you force yourself to look könig in the eyes. those butterflies in your stomach now feel like a frenzied swarm, the way your hands tremble matching the way könig’s hands shake as he takes yours. 

for a second, you two just stare at each other, suspended in this dreamlike haze where anything feels possible.

“from the second i read your letter, i fell for you. your very soul was on this page,” könig taps the letter with his free hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “you are unlike anyone i’ve ever known, that’s why i reached out that first time. it was like a voice whispered in my ear that i’d never come across another soul like yours, that i had to secure a connection to you before i lost my chance, and i’m so glad i did. i’m not going to lie, it was… difficult watching you go after him so determinedly, both because of my feelings, and because of who he is, but i just don’t think i can ever say no to you. not with those eyes of yours” he reaches up to cup your face again, and you’re sure he can feel the way your face is burning with each word he says, but he doesn’t let on. “last night- pulling away from your kiss was the hardest thing i’ve done in my life. it’s been on repeat in my head all day, making it damn near impossible for me to even think in the meeting. i’ve never felt this way for anyone, schatzi, i never thought i could- never in my wildest dreams did i imagine i’d love someone as much as i love you, or that the feeling would be reciprocated,” he said, his voice cracking a little as he finished up.

what a picture the two of you must be, both your faces flushed and eyes sparkling with tears at the enormity of your feelings, but any embarrassment has no place here, not with how he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious treasure he’s ever seen. 

this time, he leans in to kiss you, giving you more than enough time to pull away, but why would you do that when you’ve also been replaying the feeling of his lips on yours since last night? this kiss feels like it’s piecing you back together, every brush of your lips against his like a salve to that burning fire in your chest, shaping it until it’s a steady glow, illuminating you from the inside out, stealing your breath as he deepens the kiss, or maybe it’s you, but you two are clutching at each other like your the other’s last hope for life itself. this is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, now you finally understand what all the books and movies and songs were going on and on about. you’ve gone your whole life craving this, and now that you’ve gotten a taste, you need more. 

you loop your arms behind his neck, pulling him down on top of you as you lay back on the bed. könig, ever so carefully keeps his weight entirely off of you, gently coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. he groans into the kiss as you tangle your fingers in his hair and give a tentative suck to his tongue, and now he’s practically folding into you, his very warm, very firm body enveloping you as he braces his forearms on either side of your head. he pulls away just the slightest from your kiss, the two of you catching your breath as you admire each other, and you wonder if he can somehow sense the fire in your belly, desire stirring awake inside you. 

“könig, i want you.”

“you have me, schatzi, for as long as you wish,” he responds with a light peck to your lips, his eyes practically sparkling as he looks at you. 

“no, i mean… i want you.” 

his eyes widen at your words, at the determination in your voice. he holds himself up on one arm, his free hand coming to smooth your hair away from your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek as his hand shakes a little. 

“liebe… are you sure?” he asks, even his voice is unsteady. 

there’s such softness in his gaze, such love, that you know he’d practically leap across the room if you said no, but he is everything you’ve ever wanted nicely wrapped up in a ribbon the same shade of blue as his eyes.

you respond with a breathless “yes”, the word hanging between this shared space, your breath mixing with his when you reach up to stroke his cheek. he shudders, an expression of such longing and affection on his face when he nuzzles into your touch. each little kiss, from the one he places on your palm to the ones he trails down your arm feel like strokes from a glowing paint brush, like each of his touches will leave a permanent mark.

every single inch of your skin is a masterpiece to him, one he worships with a kiss as he ever so slowly pushes your shirt up. he smiles as you giggle a little with each brush of his lips on your stomach, relishing in the way you’re so relaxed beneath him, trusting him with your very being, something that he will never take lightly. 

you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life than you are right now, each of könig’s touches pleading, asking, and thanking all at the same time, stoking that fire in your belly in the most delicious way. the way könig freezes before uncovering more of you until you nod has you feeling the safest you’ve ever been. it feels like everything’s clicked into place, every sense is heightened in the best way, and you know that life will never be the same after this, this sentiment echoed by the look in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you lying entirely bare on his bed.

könig’s sure he’s died and gone to heaven, he must have, because how else can such a miracle be explained? someone like you loves him, wants him, is looking at him like that… it’s clearly not a dream, though. your pulse beating against his lips as he kissed your neck, your scent flooding his senses, and the way you look now has him feeling like his mind is shutting down. his entire world comes down to just you, to the curve of your breasts, the way your fingers absentmindedly flex on the comforter, to the way your kiss-swollen lips part are all things he wants to commit to memory, to have it permanently emblazoned in his mind, to think of nothing else ever again except you, only you-

your breathless laugh coaxes him back to his senses, your “it’s not fair only you get a show, kö,” coupled with the way you tug at his shirt has him blushing hard. in an instant he’s helping you, tugging his shirt over his head as you paw at his pants, undoing them for him before he pushes them down, baring himself to you body and soul. 

you fare no better than he did in terms of short circuiting at the sight of him. sure, you’d gotten little peeks when he’d lift his shirt in training, or the times he’d emerge from the shower shirtless, but this was a personal display just for you. your eyes greedily trace every dip and curve of his body, the way his muscles twitch as if your stare is actually a touch instead mesmerizes you. he’s covered in scars, reasonably so, this is no easy job, but that just makes you want him more. he’s always seemed bigger than life, and that’s backed up with the sheer size of him. you try not to drool at the sight of his length, the way it droops from its weight despite being entirely hard, the leaking tip matching the slickness between your thighs… you feel not a shred of fear at his size, knowing without a doubt that he’ll do everything to care for you, that he’d never hurt you. you just feel need, need to become one with him, to share your love as you shared your breath after that first kiss-

“i’m sorry about the scars, schatzi… i can leave my shirt on if it makes you feel more comf-” könig‘s breath hitches as you reach out to trace a faded scar slashed over his chest, right where his heart is, and you lean forward and kiss it. 

“you’re beautiful,” you whisper, your eyes practically sparkling as you look up at him. 

könig makes a mental note to write up a list of all the gods he’ll have to thank for you, a boyish grin tugging at his mouth as he guides you to lay back down. he captures your lips in another kiss, pouring all the love he’s kept in these past months, finally getting it off his chest. 

“you are absolutely everything i have ever wanted, meine liebe” he murmurs between the hot, open mouthed kisses he trails from the base of neck down the middle of your chest, pausing to kiss each of your perked nipples before continuing his path to your tummy. 

you instinctively let your thighs fall open at the sensation of his warm breath raising goosebumps on your skin before your mind catches up, your face heating as you realize what he’s about to do.

“oh, you don’t have to-”

he soothes you with a kiss to your inner thigh, his eyes locked onto yours as he settles between your legs. 

“do you want me to, schatzi?” his tone like gasoline to the flame of desire that ignited inside you since you first kissed. 

“...yes. i’ve always wondered what it would feel like,” you admit, unable to lie to him when he’s looking at you with pure devotion like that.

“good girl,” he rewards you with a kiss to the top of your pussy, his smile making you even wetter. “you are to tell me any way i can serve you, any way i can make you feel good and happy. this is a privilege for me, understand?” 

you nod, feeling like your brain is melting out of your ears with the sincerity in his words, in his touch as he licks a slow stripe up your dripping slit, gathering your slick on his tongue. you answer his groan with a whimper, a shiver of pleasure running through your entire body. 

könig’s never been the type to let things slip from between his fingers. everything from targets to promotions are guaranteed his when he sinks his metaphorical teeth in, and this is no different. he wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you spread as he loses himself in your taste, in the angelic moans you bless him with as he laps at your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, because it is. nothing will ever compare to your taste, he’ll spend every second away from you just wishing he’d be smothered in you like this. könig would be embarrassed at the way he’s groaning, and practically whimpering as he eats you out so desperately, if he’d be able to have any coherent thoughts right now. your hands tangling in his hair must have drained his mind until only you are left, and he sucks on your clit appreciatively, a thanks for realigning his priorities to what truly matters. 

your vocabulary is whittled down to only könig’s name, “yes”, and “more”, your breath hitching on that last one once his determined tongue dips at your entrance while the tip of his crooked nose bumps your clit. you answer his unspoken question with a tug of his hair, bucking your hips to grind against his face, begging him to keep going, the barest worry of being too demanding quickly quashed by the muffled “that’s it, schatzi,” groaned against your pussy by the giant of a man. any response you were considering falls flat on your tongue, replaced by a downright debauched moan as his tongue slips inside you, your slick and his saliva mixing to ease its journey. you could cry at how your fingers will never satisfy you again if you weren’t so occupied with trying to hold on to the last fragment of composure you have left when he begins to slowly thrust his tongue in and out of you, working you open with such heavenly licks until you’re writhing on his bed. 

only your breathy request for more after a moment has könig sliding his tongue out from you, replacing it with his fingers at your entrance, cursing his tongue for not being able to magically expand to fill you up the way you need, the way your clenching entrance betrays. at least his tongue can make itself useful swirling and flicking at your clit as he slowly works a thick finger inside you, his eyes locked onto you, watching for any signs of discomfort, but you just wiggle your hips, moaning so sweetly and welcoming the light stretch as your walls clench around it greedily. 

his own need is a distant, dull throb somewhere against the comforter, instantly having taken a backseat to your comfort and pleasure, to focusing on not overwhelming you as he carefully adds another finger, light little kisses to your clit turning the faint sting to nothing when he pumps them in and out of you, as careful as if he were disarming a bomb. the little glances you reward him with when you look down have his heart clenching, the pure trust and love in your eyes reinforcing that this is what he was made for, caring for you, pleasing you, loving you-

“want another, please,” comes from your lips, your eyes gleaming with determination, with the need to be able to take his length, have him obeying instantly.

he gently adds a third finger, only his tongue moving against your clit until you nod and tug his hair, signaling he can move his hand again, his fingers resuming molding your walls apart with each steady thrust. your eyes widen in surprise, a breathy whine slipping from you when his fingers brush against a special spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 

he raises his eyebrows, his baby blues sparking when you stutter a “t-there, kö- right there” between your moans. 

“of course, schatzi- anything for you- so good, liebe,” his praises sprinkled between insistent sucks to your clit work in tandem with the delicious strokes of his fingers against that sweet spot have your back arching off the bed, reduced to a melted mess, moans of his name slipping from your lips like a chant.

könig could spend the entire rest of his life just like this, hearing you moan his name, watching you use his mouth and fingers, your hips bucking to meet his movements, to get more of his touch, but the need to have you cum all over his face wins out, and he doubles his efforts, groaning at the way you tremble on his bed, a squeaked “i’m gonna cum, kö!” making his mind white out. 

his mouth latches to your pussy, greedily licking up every drop of your nectar as you soak his chin and fingers with your release, the vibration of his groans only prolonging your high. you might have actually seen the light for a minute there, your vision slowly unblurring as you finally open your eyes, whining as you look down at könig practically making out with your pussy, his baby blues rolling back as he licks at your entrance. you release your tight grip on his hair, only to have to tug it again when your breathless whisper of his name falls on deaf ears. he blushes as he reluctantly pulls away from your sensitive pussy, blinking up at you like his mind is buffering. 

the minute you hold your arms out, he’s crawling back up, a little surprised sound leaving him when you tug him in for a kiss again, more panting than anything as the two of you catch your breath, the taste of yourself on his tongue adding fuel to the still simmering desire in your very core. 

“that was amazing, kö,” you laugh breathlessly, gently wiping könig’s face dry as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“you are amazing, schatzi,” he corrects you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, you pulling back when you feel his hard length brush against your thigh. 

“here, let me-”

he shudders at your delicate touch to his length, his cock twitching in the air as he hovers over you

“liebe, that can wait, rest more-”

you grin at the strangled groan that leaves him when you wrap your soft hand around his length, his eyes rolling back slightly. 

“what was that, kö?” you ask teasingly, your heart clenching at the little whine he replies to you with as he bucks into your touch. 

his precum aids your movements, beads of it slicking his tip as you smear it over his skin. you’re marveling at the heavy warmth that is his length, your fingers feeling out the difference between the thin skin sheathing is cock versus the taut, slippery skin that is his tip, so focused on your exploration you gasp when he suddenly flips the two of you, you now seated on his lap as he leans against his headboard. 

“i’m sorry, schatzi, but i was worried i might smush you,” he bashfully explains, even the tips of his ears pink as he takes in the sight of you on his lap, your pretty hand looking so out of place around his length. he’s always considered it a brutish thing like the rest of him, so big and long, practically bending under its own weight, but the way you look at it, pure want on your face, makes him feel like the luckiest man in the universe. 

könig did say to be upfront about your needs, so-

“can i put it in? please?” you ask softly, biting your lip as you try to wrap your fingers around the girth of his length, your pussy clenching when you see how your fingers don’t meet. 

“of course, schatzi,” he rewards you with a soft kiss, pure reverence in the way he cups your face as if he’d be more than happy just staying like this forever. könig pulls away after a moment, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as you scoot forward on his lap to press your pussy against his hard cock. “it’s yours, all yours, just go slow-” 

you gasp at the same time he groans, his hands shooting to your hips to hold you steady as you tremble from your hasty attempt to sink down on his length. need made you a touch too overeager, so desperate to feel him inside. 

“careful, liebe!” könig gently warns, rubbing soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs, the sensation giving you something else to focus on other than the stretch. “we’ll go slow, okay? i don’t want you getting hurt.” 

you nod quickly, laughing softly at the way you really thought you could take it that easily. 

“sounds like a plan”. you rest your hands on his shoulders, his own holding your hips steady and stopping you from accidentally taking more before you’re ready. “that’s just the tip, isn’t it?” you ask, your voice tight with awe and wonder.

könig can’t help the little smirk that forms on his face as you look up at him when he nods. you curse under your breath, biting your lip as your entrance clenches around the bulbous tip of his thick cock.

“promise you won’t push yourself too far, schatzi,” he says, looking at you expectantly. only once you promise does he relax his arms to free you to sink further down, taking a couple inches more, your breathy moan making him grit his teeth to keep his hips from bucking up. 

it’s slow moving for a moment, something könig is thankful for because it gives him time to exercise his self control, using all the mental exercises he knows to simply admire the way your pulse almost imperceptibly jumps at the base of your neck, the way your breathing steadies after each inch you take, his eyes lingering on the sight of your delicate fingers working your clit after he instructed you to, each little tremble of your body making his heart clench as he helps you hold steady to adjust, cooing an endless stream of praises and sweet nothings at you. 

each “that’s my girl”, “so brave, schatzi”, and “that’s it, almost there, liebe” honeys your ears so wonderfully you’re not surprised at the way your slick drips down his length, easing the stretch until you’re little gasps turn to moans of pleasure, your eyes fluttering as you take yet another inch- your hips finally pressed against his. your fingers slip from your clit down to where you’re joined, feeling how little of him is left outside you. 

“i did it!” you gasp, your eyes sparkling as you look up at him. 

könig looks like he’s trying to keep from passing out, in a good way, but he grins, giving your hips a little squeeze as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “told you you’re amazing, schatzi,” before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

how people don’t go mad from this, from having someone so close you practically become one, is a mystery to you. the mere thought of going back to being empty has you clenching around his length, and you eagerly swallow his groans when you experimentally roll your hips and nip at könig’s bottom lip at the same time, digging your nails into his shoulders as he shudders. 

“shieße, liebling” his broken moans are music to your ears when you finally pull apart, panting softly as he helps you rise until just the tip of his cock is inside you, before you oh so slowly sink back down, his length nestling inside you, making a home for itself, your walls eagerly welcoming it. 

könig absentmindedly wonders if he’s actually dreaming, if he’s been dreaming since before he met you or hallucinated you whilst in some coma, but the way you moan and clench around his length when he cups one of your tits with his rough hand is clearly real, as is the blush that tints your face as you realize you were a bit too loud there, but the rest of the world can fall away for all he cares. “you sound like an angel, liebe” he groans against your tits before taking one into his mouth, sucking eagerly, making you whimper even louder.

your moaned “harder”, and the way your nails dig into his shoulders, is like an activation code for him, his grip on your hips tightening. he pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, the slick skin prickling in the cool air of the room. before he can even verbalize the question, you’re nodding, lifting off his cock and sinking down quicker than before, showing him you can take it. 

the two of you set a steady rhythm, könig helping you lift up before bringing you back down effortlessly, both because of his strength, and because of how wet you are. you’d blush at the wet, lewd noises filling the room, but that’s the last thing on your mind with the absolute masterpiece in front of you. the way his jaw tenses as he groans each time you sink down, the way his eyes flutter when you clench around his length, even the way the muscles in his arm shift as he bounces you on his cock has you moaning louder. you have half a mind to be worried about becoming addicted to this, but then his tip hits that special spot inside you, and suddenly nothing matters but feeling that again and again. 

könig praises you for each bounce, telling you you’re being so good, so strong, even though he’s the one doing most of the work now, but he doesn’t mind one bit. not when you’re making such pretty noises for him, when you’re looking at him with that fuzzy, dazed expression as you tremble in his hold, when you moan his name louder as his length finds your sweet spot. 

“there, schatzi? does that feel good?” he asks softly, pride in his tone at being able to make you moan like that. he doesn’t let up one bit, purposely angling his hips so his tip relentlessly hits that spot, enjoying the way you answer in a string of “yes”s and “don’t stop”s, as if that thought would ever even cross his mind- 

if cumming on his fingers and tongue felt good, this is going to be a whole other level. you bite your lip, practically slumping forward against him as your pussy spasms around his cock, every fibre of your being narrowing down to that intense building pleasure in your belly, the flames now a wild blaze. könig coos at you, helping you support yourself so he can see the way your pretty face twists with pleasure with each of his insistent thrusts.

“are you going to cum, liebe? you want to cum on my cock?” he asks, his own breath hitching with each flutter of your walls around him. 

“please- i’m gonna-” you cut yourself off with a loud moan of his name, your eyes rolling back in your head as you cum all over his length. your mind has gone static, pure white pleasure blinding you as your juices drip down könig’s cock, his groaned praises reaching your ears as if from a great distance, but he’s got you, just like always, gently moving you up and down his length, prolonging your orgasm as you slowly come down. you blink up at him in a daze, your body trembling as you’re now fully slumped against his chest, könig smiling so lovingly at you. 

“that was beautiful, schatzi, thank you” he murmurs softly, pressing soft little kisses to your sticky temple, his tone reverent. “thank you.”

well he did say bringing you pleasure was a privilege, but- “what about you, kö?” you ask softly, shifting your hips to feel his still very hard cock twitch inside you. you sit up, blushing at the squelch of your juices around his cock, and his hands instantly go to support your still trembling body. 

“i’ll take care of it later, liebe, just lay back down-” he gaps a little as you roll your hips, his cock twitching inside your tight heat. 

“let me make you feel good too. i want to,” you add that last bit on at the same time he went to say something, cutting off his selflessness at the root, your heart clenching at the way he looks at you, like he quite can’t believe you’re really there, really wanting him like this. it’s that thought that reinvigorates you, and you decide to prove it to him, getting back into the rhythm of bouncing on his length, his groans making your still sensitive walls flutter around him. 

“you are always so sweet, so good to me, kö, but you have to understand that i want to do the same for you, okay? will you let me do that?” you say softly, grinding down on his cock to punctuate your words. 

you take his strained whine and the way his length pulses inside you as a yes, his grip on your hips tightening. you place your hands over his, giving him the go-ahead to go faster, to tell him you want him to use you as he lets you use him, and he obliges instantly, ever obedient just for you. you moan as he picks up the pace, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you up just enough for him to thrust up into your fluttering pussy. you didn’t bargain for another orgasm so quickly, but you can feel that familiar pressure building again, könig’s babbled “thank you”s and “so good”s only fanning that flame. 

your nails dig into his shoulders again as he thrusts up into you relentlessly, your back arching at the way his length has practically molded your walls to the shape of him. you nuzzle into könig’s neck, panting softly as your tits smush up against his chest. his hands shift to grip your ass, using it as leverage to keep up the delicious pace, tightening their grip on your skin when you whisper in his ear. 

“kö, i’m gonna cum again-” 

his pace falters, a strained moan leaving him as he responds “ah, schatzi, i don’t think i can- sheiße- don’t think i can hold it”

it takes your pleasure-addled mind a second to catch up, to turn over what he’s saying before you realize his concern, your breath hitching as he gives a particularly hard thrust up into you. 

“i’m on the pill- it’s okay, you can-” 

in an instant he’s groaning into your hair, thrusting up into you at a pace that makes your very toes curl. 

könig’s moaned “cum for me, liebe,” is all it takes before you’re making a bigger mess on his length, your slick dripping down his length as he spills inside you with a strained shout of your name. 

you two cling to each other, könig’s big hand soothingly rubbing circles on your back as your walls milk his length. you fully lay on his chest now, könig having slumped down the bed when he came, and you stay like this, both panting softly as you come down from your highs with his length slowly softening inside you. you rest your chin on his chest, smiling up at him before placing a little kiss over that same scar on his heart, and he gently cups your face, looking at you like you’ve hung the very stars in the sky. 

könig speaks first, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “i love you, schatzi,” he murmurs as his thumb gently strokes the apple of your cheek, your own face heating in response to the sincerity in his voice, his words burrowing their way right to your heart. there isn’t an ounce of expectation on his face, as if he’d be perfectly content just letting his words slowly settle over the two of you like a warm blanket, but you also must speak your mind. 

“i love you, too, könig. this has been the best day of my life,” you respond with a soft smile, your heart clenching as you wish you could stay like this forever, just you and him, just this quiet love and fullness, and you tell him as much. 

“we’ll stay like this as long as you’d like; we’ll be like this anytime you want.” könig promises, bringing your hand to his mouth and pressing soft kisses to each of your fingers. 

“anytime?” you laugh softly, playfully raising an eyebrow at him. “that’s a big promise, kö”.

“i mean it. your wishes are my commands, liebe,” könig says solemnly, but the way a smile tugs at his lips betrays him, as does the way his length twitches to attention inside you in response to the way your walls clenched around him at the thought.   

you spend the rest of the day exchanging kisses, sappy smiles, and “i love you”s like you have all the time in the world, because you do. now that könig has found you, now that you’ve said you want him, he’s never letting go. he makes a silent vow, pressing his words into your skin with each soft kiss. he’ll be yours forever and always, and even after that. 

the end.

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

taglist <3: @practicalgauntlet @captain-ofmusic @darkangel4121 @laduenadelswing @galactict3a @nexthyperfix @distinguishedprincesstrash @an0nym0u5au7h0r @venuzdaugther

[yanderelovebites]

Adding on: Barbara finds out and what leads to them coming back to Gotham

Barbara would be the one to find them. She’d be shocked and be like “WE THOUGHT YOU DIED OR SOMETHING?!” Sibling would be like “Almost did. Was shot. Three time, Miss Gordon. But I’m here. Meet my partner (insert partner). Now if you’ll excuse us we like dealing with the no bat zone, thank you very much. (Insert hero) isn’t nearly as annoying or hurtful.”

That would set it off for Barbara. “You’re telling me you’re hiding from them? Your family?” “Yes, yes I am. Not like they’d care, for fucks sake I got shot because dad didn’t. Anyway, what brings you to (city name)?”

Like she’d be so overwhelmed that ANOTHER ONE OF THEM WERE ASSUMED DEAD AND NO THEY’RE NOT! “This is like Jason all over again.” They’d say “Nah, he actually died first. Harley Quinn found me in time to take care of me before she crawled back to Joker.” That was the real punch to the gut. “You accepted the help of **her**?!”! They’d nod and say “best two months in my life in Gotham, really. Anyway and why is that a problem?” They don’t see this as substantial since Barbara knows what’s going on in the manor. They’d say “look I’m happy here, plus I’ve gone to therapy. I’m healing and this is home to me. Now me and partner need to get going.”

Barbara would be so confused and look into them herself because yeah. I feel like the biological version of sibling would be some type of doctor, usually a surgeon and not because Thomas Wayne was one, simply because deep down they do want to save lives. They just aren’t a hero.

An adopted sibling scenerio I’d envision more of a more passionate career. They’re either in business with a passionate love for their product or my personal favorite, a dog trainer. Specifically they train service dogs.

Barbara would tell the batfam when she gets back and they’re all, except the trio as they’re post sibling’s kidnapping, surprised. They’re alive?

Bruce obviously is relieved they’re safe, but then upset they never came home. I feel like he’d find Harley in jail and speak to her, pretending he’s asking in favor of Bruce Wayne, but she’d be like “Aw that poor kid? Yeah, I remember them. I was runnin’ from some people angry at Mr. J while we were on break. I hid and there the poor sugar was, three bullet wound. The guys must have been amateurs ‘cause not one hit any vitals. Bandaged them up and told me about their home life, didn’t blame ‘em for not wanting to go home. Why? Whatcha need about that sweetheart?” She laughs and says “Sounds to me they’re doin’ just fine on their own. Lemme guess, their family worried bout em?” Batman said they thought they were dead and she laughs again, “I didn’t hear anything about that. The amount of criminals here? Yeah, if they were to know that they’d fight over who hands em over. All for money.” He then says, “So you knew they’re a Wayne?” Harley nods, “Of course, I did!”

Dick is one of the worser to hear about all this. How could they prefer HARLEY QUINN over them? Or leaving Gotham than going back home?

Dick doesn’t understand it at all and is quite upset.

Jason isn’t as upset as everyone else. Jason isn’t anywhere near as yandere or obsessed because he’s been where she’s been sorta. His was way more traumatic, but he understands not wanting to come home. He also understands making herself something that isn’t Wayne, he’s actually kinda proud she could just move on. Yes this does make the rest of the family annoyed.

Tim? EXTREMELY annoyed that this is how they find out. He looks into it and there they are with their lover. He’ll be concerned if they’re a villain kid. He’ll look through everything and feel a pang in his heart. They wanted to help people. And they have.

The worst person is DAMIEN. Damien has been HAUNTED by images of her death and Alfred’s. He needed this, more than anything. He’s the worst one. He won’t settle for her ‘being happy’. For some time the others would attempt to keep him away from doing something irrational, especially Jason because again he gets **why** they didn’t come home.

The longest time it’s how it is. Bruce doesn’t want to compromise what appears to be a happy life for them. Especially when the hero in her current city says she’s doing okay, thinking he’s trying to help ‘Bruce Wayne’ feel okay about the child who went missing. Jason holds Damien back with the help from our three post-batsibling kids. Then it happens. Joker gets involved in the city because he being the dick he is, somehow knows the Bat’s identity (like in SOME iterations of Joker) and Joker decided to target batsibling. Batman is called via league and while helping the hero, Harley does turn on Joker once she realizes exactly what he was planning to do. Does joker question it? A little because it’s out of character for her to turn on him like that.

While they’re trying to save them by dealing with Joker, their partner would have found their way up. It’s even better if this is a villain kid because they probably hijacked their parent’s stuff to do this. Just when they think they’re safe they hear a gun go off and it got the partner.

Imagine bat sibling balling their eyes out, holding their lover’s corpse, while the heroes and Harley try to apprehend Joker. Then he goes for another shot which was in line to hit Batsibling, only for Harley to take the hit. This would be the last shot Joker could get.

Now if it’s a non-villain kid, it’s because Batman pinned him down, if it is a villain kid, the parent showed up and shot the gun out of Joker’s hand with one of their weapons and started to beat the crap out of him (didn’t kill him because that’s too good for him)

Villain would have been held back by their hero finally and once they’re calm (and joker is in custody lol) they’d tell the hero to let go. They’d have a whole ‘why so you can actually kill him’ and Bat sibling through choked sobs would say “He’s their son, (hero) please.”

That’s when Batman’s attention would solely look back at them. They’re no longer a child… a grown adult and they just witnessed what Bruce could only assume was their first love get murdered in front of them, trying to save them. He felt choked. “(Hero), let them go to them.”

The villain parent would rush by their dead child’s side and cradle them close. Their own child was gone FOREVER. Sibling would try saying sorry, that if they hadn’t come to save them, but villain wouldn’t hear it.

After the body is taken away, after everything… Bruce does talk to Sibling because while clearly he made his mistakes, if there was a time to be the father he’s supposed to be, it was then. At first sibling doesn’t want to hear it but Bruce ends up hugging them and saying what he could say. That he understands they just watch someone they really care about get shot and there was nothing they could have done to stop it from happening.

Sure the situation was different from when his parents died, but the emotional trauma was the same variety.

Bruce would also take full advantage of it and suggest they come back home, telling them about three new siblings she never got to meet and holding the info about Alfred, since they just lost their partner. Them, knowing they couldn’t afford to live in the apartment without their partner and knowing this city would just torment them with the past, agreed to after they put in for a transfer and go to their partner’s funeral. Bruce stays in a luxury hotel in the city, texting Tim who’d handle this the best in his mind, what was going on.

But this isn’t some tragedy you walk away from for family and magically heal over night. Nor can they really heal in the bat mansion, especially not without Alfred.

Add more about when she comes back in another reblog.

You know I’d love a batfam neglects batsis/batbro that starts not when they’re brought into the family… but show it as nightmares, flashbacks, etc. warning dead Alfred.

Have batsis/batbro move on in another hero’s city as to avoid them. Have them live happy in whatever profession of their dreams after finding themselves. Not the version behind Wayne manor, truly them. Fall in love with someone (maybe a hero kid or something. Hell secret villain kid) and every time they feel good they hear news of justice league, of bat man. Some nightmares… flashbacks…

Have each unfold the story slowly until you get to the climax, what TRULY happened. They didn’t come to this city under the best circumstances no. The reality was they were kidnapped for a hostage situation and Bruce never paid, forgot them and thought it was a fake. A scam. They survived by mere luck. They shot them and left them to rot, but much to their surprise Harley Quinn found them and helped them—it was one of her ‘redemption’ periods before going back to the Joker but she still saved them. A villain saved their life when their own family wouldn’t. That’s when they left, when she went back. They had no reason to stay and built a life away from them all. Have them confess to their lover about what happened….

Then switch to the bat family currently.

Cassandra, Steph, and Duke never knew them. They look at the few portraits of them in the manor and wonder what they were like, they don’t have the full story. The others had other varying reactions when they’re brought up. They had so many questions but since Alfred’s death, there was no one willing to tell them.

Tim still kept an eye through his skills and connections hoping to find them. He had figured out first after he noticed their lack of presence about the call Bruce had awhile back that he had a hostage situation. Bruce had been second to hear the conclusion that Tim had, that it was no scam because they had batsis/batbro. He knew they were likely dead but he couldn’t rest until a body is found… or they come back.

Damian gets quickly irritated, but he has nightmares at night that he’d never admit to or tell anyone about. He was younger, but they weren’t strong. Normally that would make him disregard them or just insult them when mentioned… but he can’t. Not anymore. At first, he’d just remember how he treated them, not these horrific nightmares, but then Alfred died. The nightmares came, repeating how Alfred died… then images of all the things that could have happened to batsis/batbro. In some, he saw a demon-like version of himself killing them… it shouldn’t bother him… but it does.

With Dick, he would wander close to their room when he was in the manor. He’d go in and look at their school achievements and the photos they had with coaches and instructors… with Alfred. He didn’t get nightmares, he barely slept since they told him what probably happened. So, so many unkept promises he’d probably never get to make up for. One picture had disappeared from the room, he never knew who had it.

Jason felt pissed every time he remembers anything about them. He avoided the manor more than ever. He blamed Bruce, but he knew deep down they all had a contribution. He was horrible to them in life and he fully believes they’re dead. He doesn’t see how they wouldn’t have come home if they were.

Then there’s poor Bruce. He lives in denial. That they’re somehow still alive. That missing picture? He took it out the frame and kept it with him. It was one of their birthdays, they had baked their own cake with Alfred and Alfred took a picture of the two of them after. He remembers he never made it home to wish them happy birthday. He made so many mistakes, let his vigilante work consume him so he forgot he had more in his life besides it. And it’s likely he lost that for good.

All means they’re obsessed about finding the truth, finding them. But when will they realize they aren’t in their city?

[ragesmut069]

Caleb and you have a spicy FaceTime.

Praise, phone sex, lingerie, p in v, not sfw, unprotected sex, masturbating.

“Hey can you ft”

“Anything for you, give me like 5 I just got out the shower”

I put my phone down and went over to my desk and opened up my laptop. I wiggled impatiently in my chair. I was wearing Caleb’s large sweatshirt but underneath I had a surprise for Caleb.

Finally my laptop glowed with a picture of Caleb and I and I hit the answer button

“Hey gorgeous”

“Hey y/n” said Gideon and 3 other of Caleb’s coworkers.

“Oh hey guys, I didn’t know you’d be there today” I said and gave Caleb a look through the computer

“Yea we came to pick Caleb up we gonna go out tonight”

“Oh Caleb didn’t tell me” again shooting Caleb a death glare through the computer

“Don’t worry love I already told them I’d meet up with them later, they’re just taking their time leaving”

“ I promise I won’t keep him long I just wanted to talk to him about something and then he’s all yours”

The guys started to leave and I heard one of them say “oh they’re totally getting freaky” before the door shut i heard Gideon say “don’t forget to use a condom”

Caleb rolled his eye and went over and locked the front door “I’m sorry about them” now that he was standing I could see he was wearing black baggy cargo pants and a simple black t shirt that came to a slight crop. Before Caleb sat down he stretched which made his shirt come up showing his abs and V line. I instinctively bit my bottom lip and my eyes widened a little at the sight. Caleb bent down into the cameras view

“See something you like pip squeak”

“Shut up Caleb “ I rolled my eyes but I could feel my cheeks get hot, I looked down and started to play with the hem of Caleb’s jacket.

“Oh is that my jacket” “ mmm looks good on you pip squeak”

“Do you always have to call me pip squeak”

“ hey I stopped calling you it in front of other people like you asked doesn’t that count” i rolled my eyes at him again

“Soooo why did you want to FaceTime, you have something important to show me, you know I’m a very busy man right?”

“No it’s not important if you wanna go catch up with your friends you can, we’ll talk another time”

“Eh nah Id rather talk to you anyways, so just tell me”

“ I just wanted to show you something but it’s okay” I was starting to regret doing this, I mean Caleb and I are still fresh I mean we only kissed twice the last time he was here but I just bought some new lingerie and I really wanted to see his reaction to it.

“I’ll just show you next time you’re down”

“ no no no now I’m intrigued”

“ okay fine maybe I’ll show you, but you can’t judge me okay?”

“ why would I judge you”

“ I don’t know I’m just nervous to show you”

“Would it be easier if you told me what it is first”

“ what! No! That would make it worse”

“ okay okay well how about”

“ you remember the last time you were down here and we kissed” I said cutting off the last part of his sentence”

“Well duh how could I forget but what does that have to”

“Why didn’t we do anything else” …. “ I mean why did you stop yourself” “you said you’ve been waiting to kiss me since we were kids”

“We’ll because I didn’t want to rush anything” “you’ll always be stuck with me so I figured we’d have time”

“But Caleb, I wanted you to”

“Oh” “you wanted me to do what “

“You know what I mean”

“ mm do I pip squeak?” “I don’t think I know, maybe you should enlighten me”

“Caleeeeeb” I whined at him. He knows I’m not good with words so why is he making me do this?

“Tell me what you want me to do then”

“ I can’t, you know I’m not good at this”

He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk looking down into the camera with a slight smirk on his face.

“Okay okay pip squeak, I’ll talk then, you just tell me if this is what you want okay?”

“Huh?”

“I’m trying to decide if I want to leave my hoodie on you or if I should take it off of you” “cause something tells me that it would be easier to control you with you in it” he kept looking down into the camera as he bit his lip at that last part, “ I mean I know how much you love to run away, I feel like even with my fingers inside you, you’re still going to try to run from me, so I’ll need to keep the hoodie on you so I can control you with my other hand”

“Why would I be running away”

“Because I stop when I want to stop” “ I want to hear you begging me to stop, as I finger you to completion over and over again, I want you make you so sensitive that when I finally put my cock inside you, you’ll feel every bit of me and every single motion i do”

I started to salivate at the thought

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you I can tell you all the wild fantasies I’ve had”

I finally decided that it was time to take off his hoodie and give him the show I’ve been wanting to give him since he left “would one of your fantasies be having phone sex” before Caleb could even start I started to take his hoodie off and said “gosh it’s just so hot in here” I stood to take the hoodie off and to show Caleb everything that was underneath his hoodie. I was wearing a black sheer lacy bra with hints of dark green embroidery a long with matching panties and a lace floral belt that had two straps going down to my thighs that were connected to garters. While I was standing I kicked my chairs lever to make the chair sit up higher, as soon as I sat down I saw Caleb’s face and his mouth was slightly open and his eyes looked like he wanted to jump through the screen and take me right there on the ground.

“You know Caleb your friends are waiting, you should really finish your story”

“ I ugh I ugh I ughh”

“ oh and I wanna hear the full story so start from the top”

Caleb stood up from his desk and walk out of camera view but I could hear him closing the blinds. While he was gone I positioned myself so that way the camera was showing my body and I made sure to open my legs, when he came back into view I could see his hard on through his pants.

Caleb sat down and said “so you wanna play like that then” “okay I’ll go back to my story but as soon as we’re done here I’m buying a ticket to place and I’m getting the real deal, fuck Gideon and the boys.”

“ I want to make you crazy before I even touch you, I want you to beg for me, I’m gonna kiss all over your body, kiss your pussy over your panties until you’re begging for me to take them off and even with you begging I would only allow myself to run my fingers on the inside of your panties, I would run my finger up your center but I wouldn’t enter inside you just yet, I just wanna play with your pussy, I wanna know every part of your pussy, I would rub your clit between my fingers, watching your every reaction”

I couldn’t help myself anymore I wanted Caleb so bad I start to trail my fingers down my own body, with my one hand I started to rub my nipple through my bra, the lace adding a different kind of friction to my nipples, my lace panties were so tight I could feel my clit pulsating against the panties, I made sure to take my time with myself like I knew Caleb would so I let my hand flutter down my body all the way to the hem of my panties where I lightly started to touch myself over the lace. Exploring myself to the sound of Caleb’s voice only made me want him to be here more I could feel the warmth start to grow between my legs, I let out a small whine as Caleb continued

“Finally when I think you’ve had enough I would drop my head between your legs, licking up your center over your panties, sucking you through your panties, knowing you, you’d try to take your own panties off so I’d have to take my time tying your hands up above your head, then I’d finally go back down and I’d move your panties to the side making sure to lick up all the mess that you’ve made for me. I know you’re fighting the restraints so I’d lick you all over but I would avoid licking or suck on your clit”

I dropped my hand into my panties scooping up all my juices onto my two fingers and I pulled them out and put them in my mouth and slowly sucked myself off my fingers all while maintaining eye contact with Caleb and I went back to myself I pulled my panties to the sides and I started to rub small circles on my clit, my breathing increased as I picked up my pace listening to Caleb

“ fuck you’re doing so good baby, you’re so wet for me and I’m not even in the same city as you. I just want to pump my fingers in and out of you right now making sure to rub your clit with my thumb, actually I’m going to bring a special toy. I’m gonna put a vibrator on your clit as I finger fuck you, okay baby ?”

“Fuck yes Caleb” I said as I started to put my fingers in and out of myself

“God you look so good when your finger fucking yourself for me”

“I want to make you squirt all over my cock before I put it in you, I wanna make you squirt so many time that you try to run away from me just so that way I can tie your legs to the bed so you can’t go anywhere, I’d strap that vibrator to you and continue to finger fuck you and make you squirt over and over again”

I started to finger myself harder and faster almost bringing myself to a climax before Caleb said

“No don’t you dare cum yet, im not done yet”

I didn’t want to stop I wanted to cum so I kept going

“I said stop” he raised his voice which kind of scared me so I stopped and I looked at him to which he said “good girl” I watched as Caleb finally freed his cock from his pants, even through the small screen I could tell he was bigger than I thought, his length going past his belly button and his girth was shocking I wasn’t sure how he was going to fit inside me, he wrapped his hand around himself and started to pump his cock as he continued

“Do you want me inside you yet pip squeak”

“Fuck please caleb”

“Say it again”

I reached into one of the drawers on my desk and got out a vibrator and turned it on, I looked at Caleb and I trailed the vibrator over my rock hard nipples and trailed it down my body all the until I reached my clit, I looked at him and said

“Please fuck me Caleb please”

“Fuck y/n I want to feel you squeeze around me, I want to hear you scream my name”

“Caleb please I need you”

We were both already at the edge, I took my other hand and started to finger myself

“ fuck caleb I’m gonna cum, please sir can I cum”

“ fuck cum for me baby”

Both of us came at the same time through the screen, I could see Caleb shoot his load all over his desk, both of us breathing heavily, staring at each other through the screen. And then Caleb’s phone started to ring, Caleb answered it still heavy breathing

“ dude fuck off im not coming” he hung up the phone and then also hung up the call with me. I stared at the black screen , only seeing my reflection on the computer, confused i tried to call Caleb back but he didn’t answer, he only sent me a text saying “put my hoodie back on”

Annoyed and confused I went and got in the shower and then when I got out and dried off I looked at Caleb’s hoodie debating weather or not to listen to his order I decided to put it on but I texted Caleb and said “no not until you tell me why you hung up”. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to respond.

I woke up in my bed and I could feel warmth behind me and I could feel a hand on my bare breast, I turned my head to see Caleb behind me shirtless, a little confused and annoyed, I turned towards him careful not to wake up I pushed him to his back, I started to kiss down his neck, i heard him let out a low hum and I could feel his throat vibrate against my lips, I started to lead down his body as i got to his waist band I felt a large hand wrap into my hair and I felt the sting of my scalp before my head was made to look up, making eye contact with a sleepy Caleb

“What do you think you’re doing”

His voice was so deep and scratchy in the morning it almost made me cum on the spot.

“What does it look like I’m doing love?”

“I don’t think it’s going to fit in your mouth pip squeak, how about me start with some breakfast and coffee”

I originally was just going to tease him and then make breakfast but I didn’t like the way he doubted me so I swatted his hand away from me I came back up towards his mouth, and inch away from kissing him I reached up and grabbed a hair tye off my bed frame, I then trailed my mouth down his body, only barley touching his skin with my mouth until I got to his waist band again. I started to kiss and nip at his v line I started to pull at his sweat pants, he helped me pull them past his ass, his cock falling out, already hard, I put my hair up. I looked up at him with an innocent look in my eyes , as I wrapped my hand around his cock, I started to pump my hand up and down. My hand didn’t even wrap all the way around his base, I was starting to think he was right but I never give up so I looked Caleb in the eyes as I licked up his cock and wrapped my mouth around his tip, he moaned and his hand came to the top of my head , I swatted his hand away again, I started to move my head up and down following my hand, when I had enough saliva in my mouth I spit in my hand, I continued to go up and down with my mouth and hand, when I had enough saliva I moved my hand down and I slammed my head down taking him all the way down my throat until I hit the end of his cock, I looked up at Caleb as he let out a loud moan “fuck y/n” “god such a good girl” I continued up and down and then slamming my head down, I picked up the speed, I could taste the sour taste of Caleb’s pre cum in my mouth as I came back up after slamming my head down, I went back down and I could feel Caleb’s cock start to pulse, and he said “fuck don’t stop I’m going to cum” I got him a bit closer before I got up and started walking to the kitchen, when I got to the door way I turned and looked at Caleb as I wiped the drool from my mouth I said “what did you want for breakfast?” I could see the confusion, frustration and betrayal flash across Caleb’s eyes, I realized I might have fucked up as I was about to say sorry and go back to finishing him off he said “you, now run” my eyes widened as I started to run across the house towards the kitchen, Caleb caught me before I could even make it there, he wrapped his arms around my waste and lifted me up and started to kiss down my neck as he bent me over the top of the couch. I went to sleep with just panties on so I could feel his cock press against my ass cheeks, he didn’t put his pants back on

“Did you just chase me with your dick out?!”

“Well someone took them off and didn’t finish what she was doing”

He brought my jacket up and started to kiss down my back “I thought you weren’t going to put my jacket back on” he said as he bit my butt cheek sending a sharp pain before give the mark a small kiss before bitting my ass all over I moaned out in pain and pleasure.

“Caleeeeeb I’m hungry”

“Mm so am I”

“So we should eat”

“Trust me I’m gonna eat just fine”

He pushed me forward and then spread my legs he hooked his finger on the top of my thong and brought his finger down and moved my panties to the side, got on his knees and started to lick from the top of my clit to my asshole, he did that a couple more times, he then started to move his tongue from side to side on my clit before hooking his thumb inside me and moving it slightly up and down,

“Fuck Caleb, I can’t” “please Caleb don’t stop I’m going to cum” right before I went over the edge he slapped my ass and got off his knees and walked back to the bed room and said “I’ll cook don’t even think about going in the kitchen”. I stayed where i was with my mouth slightly open just staring at the door way where Caleb had disappeared into, Caleb appeared with shorts and a t shit on.

“What do you want to eat?”

I stayed silent just staring at Caleb “what can’t handle what you dish out now, how does breakfast burritos sound?” I crinkled my face at Caleb and shook my head up and down. Caleb then kissed the top of my head and slapped my ass a little as he walked to the kitchen to get started on cooking. I fixed my underwear and walked behind him, i did a little jump to get myself a seat on the counter. Caleb shook his head at me, and handed me a cup of coffee..

” do you want to go see a movie or something today?” Caleb asked

“no” i said quietly with a frown on my face

”hmmm how about i take you on a shopping spree, ill pay for everything”

”now that’s tempting but” i grabbed out and tugged on Caleb’s shirt bring him between my thighs, since i was sitting on the counter i was finally almost the same height as Caleb, i brought my mouth to Caleb’s ear ad whispered “why don’t we play out all those fantasies of yours”

“you’ve always been impatient pip squeak” he pushed me back from his ear, and laid a kiss on my mouth, he then went back to cutting potatoes and cooking. I frowned again at him.

After we finished eating i grabbed our plates and went to the kitchen to start washing the dishes, Caleb followed after me and said “its okay ill wash everything”

“no you cooked so ill clean” i started to wash the dishes, I felt Caleb’s arms wrap around my waste and and his head went to the crook of my neck and he started to kiss and nip at my neck i moaned and leaned back into him, his hand started to go up the front of my shirt and he toook my breast into his and started to squeeze and massage my breast, i felt his fingers start to play with my nipple, Caleb took his other hand and started to play with my waistband of my panties. I turned the water off and turned around to Caleb and wrapped my arms around his neck and i kissed Caleb, it started out as a slow kiss but progressed into a wet sloppy kiss, Caleb’s arms went down and scooped me up, and i wrapped my legs around Calebs waist, he placed me on the counter, not letting our lips part, my hands went to his waistband i hooked my fingers inside his waist band, i then took my hand down and started to rub his cock outside his pants, I could feel Caleb’s hands tighten around my hips as he brought me closer to the edge of the counter. In one swift motion Caleb took the jacket off of me along with his own shirt, Caleb’s mouth slammed back onto mine. Caleb then took my panties off and then i heard his shorts drop to the ground and felt him step out of the shorts, i could feel Caleb’s cock at my entrance, i broke the contact between our mouths to look down wide eyed at Caleb’s cock. His hand grabbed my chin and brought my face up to look him in the eyes

”you want to stop pip squeak?”

“No just go slow”

”don’t worry ill open you up first” as he finished that sentence his finger entered inside of me and he started to pump in and out a couple times before putting a second finger in

“fuck you’re so tight” “and you’re already so wet for me”

he kept pumping in and out of me, i could feel his fingers curl upward inside of me hitting the g spot i started to let out a moan, and before I knew it Caleb was bringing out a orgasm with just his fingers, as soon as i finished orgasiming Caleb started to move his fingers up and down

”fuck Caleb” “no no no” “I can’t Caleb I’m gonna “ I couldn’t even finish the sentence before i was squirting all over Caleb and the tile, i could hear it splash on the ground, i looked at Caleb and he was dripping with the warm liquid that just came out of me. Caleb brought his fingers and gave my clit a light slap before putting his fingers back in and going back to the up and down motion. With his other hand Caleb grabbed the back of my head and slightly pulling on my hair sending a sharp pain to my scalp.

“I want you to look me in the eyes this time, don’t look away or ill stop.”

“Yes sir” I whined, I felt the tears start to sting my eyes as I looked at his purple eyes.

Caleb spend up the movement inside me, i started to scream out Caleb’s name as i squirted all over him again, Caleb then started going in and out of me bring me to an orgasm again, after i fell over the edge my brain went numb, as the tears started to flow down my cheeks, i felt Caleb lean down and lick up my center, he gave my clit a kiss before wrapping his arms underneath my legs and lifted me up, i wrapped my arms around his neck, a little confused i looked at Caleb he said “do you trust me?” I shook my head up and down in a yes motion, he said “good” at the same time he started to lower me down onto his cock the tip entered inside of me. My nails dug into his shoulders. Caleb and i both let out a loud moan as he lowered me onto his cock, he slowly lowered me down, and when i got to his base he stopped,

”why are you stopping Caleb, fuck me” i stated. He brought me up slowly and brought me down a couple of times, he then brought me up one last time before slamming me all the way down onto his cock, i felt a sharp pain as he slammed me down that pain started to dissipate into pleasure, he kept going, i started to sloppily kiss Caleb as he continued to fuck me, my brain started to go numb again as i got closer to the edge as i was about cum, Caleb brought me up Off his cock and then placed me on the counter and then bent me over the counter, my bare breasts against the cold counter, i was on my tippy toes, his hand came to the base of my back and pressed down slightly i felt his head come to my neck and whispered into my ear

“you’re such a good girl” “you take me so well” he started to rub his cockk on my enterance, his cock was rubbing on my clit all I could do was moan at Caleb, I could no longer think of words to say. I felt the tip of him enter inside me he stared off slow again before speeding up, he was still being gentle with his thrusts.

“ That’s my girl” he delivered a slap to my ass, he took my hair into his hands and pulled my head back and started to kiss my neck as he thrusted into me. My arms flung out to try to grab the counter better, I ended up knocking the coffee cup onto the ground, shattering on the ground near Caleb and i’s feet. Caleb didn’t stop, he kept pounding into me. If anything it made him go harder into, I felt like I could feel every part of him.

”we should move to the couch, I don’t want you to get cut by glass” he then reached down and started to rub my clit. My eyes started to water again as the tears sting my eyes, Caleb again delivered a slap against my ass. I felt myself tighten around Caleb, getting close to cumming, again Caleb turned me around and picked me up he brought me over to the couch entered inside me again and said “if you’re going to cum you’re going to look me in the eyes” “you’re mine, i want you to look at me”

he started to slam into me again, i could tell he was getting close to, i started to tighten around him

”fuck Caleb cum for me”

”if you keep saying my name like that I’m going to cum inside you.” ”god your pussy takes me so good” “your squeezing me so tight i can barley move”

“Caleb please” the tears started to stream down as i screamed his name over and over. I could feel Caleb start to pulsate inside me, he was holding my head so that we were staring at each other, his lips slammed onto me, we could barley focus on kissing each other as we both came, i could feel Caleb twitch over and over again inside me. As Caleb took his cock out I could feel his cum leaking out from me.

”that’s my good girl” he said as he kissed my nose.

[colossrat]

the beginning is not what it seems, I promise it will be a funny approach Mary: I can’t believe you got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me!!

She’s upset because she and Marvel promised to always tell each other everything, not because of the supposed girlfriend itself

Cap: I don’t have a girlfriend! We’re just talking

Mary: Stop lying to me!! Did you even stop to think what Mom would think about this?!

And by “this”, she means lying to each other, not dating someone.

Cap: You don’t need to remind me, Mary. I was there when I made that promise to her. I’m keeping my word.

It’s been maybe eight years since their mom made them promise to never lie and to stay friends forever. They were around 4 or 5 years old, it was before their parents passed away.

Cap: Mary, please... I’m not lying or hiding anything from you. I was just talking to that lady. I’m not breaking the promise I made to her… I would never do that. Okay? I would never do that to her… or to you.

Mary: Just… tell me things first. I don’t like hearing stuff from other people. They gossip! They’re saying all kinds of things about you.

Cap: And you believed them? Mary, I would never do anything that would hurt you or Mom…

Then they hug, a warm sibling moment where they talk it out and fix the misunderstanding. Mary was a bundle of nerves because it wasn’t the first time Marvel didn’t tell her something first, and she heard about it from someone else. She was scared they were growing apart :(

But here’s the twist:

Some members of the Justice League who were around during this thought Marvel had made a promise to Mary’s dead mother, his ex-wife, that he’d never move on with anyone else. And that Mary keeps holding him to that promise, reminding him of his dead wife and not letting him move on without guilt. Nobody really blames either of them, they understand both sides… it’s complicated.

They start noticing the little things Marvel does. He never, ever, shows romantic or sexual interest in anyone, man or woman. He’s extremely respectful and always careful not to come off as too friendly. Some of the League members start feeling sorry for him. From what they know, Cap is immortal, or at least going to live for a few more centuries, and that’s a long time to be stuck in the past. But some of them understand… sometimes, love is hard to move on from. And there’s Mary, who doesn’t seem ready to see her father with someone else that is not her mom

Later, Flash and Hal not only stop trying to set Marvel up with other heroes, but they even start helping him out when some hero, villain, or civilian tries to flirt with him.

Batman recommends a few therapists for both him and Mary, family therapy, a whole list of suggestions

There was one time they went out for some bonding routine. Marvel didn’t drink (he doesn’t like alcohol), but he was relaxed enough to spill a little:

Marvel: I’ve actually been liking someone lately. nothing serious. They’re just a very kind and smart person and… and I could really see myself with them, you know? But Mary… I don’t think she’d like that. And it’s important to me that if I’m going to have any kind of relationship, she’s okay with it, and that she gets along with them.

And he looks so sad and demotivated… Batman is the first to give him a couple of firm slaps on the back in support.

The reality is that Billy is actually liking someone, but it just so happens that this someone is (reader’s choice) a person Mary absolutely cannot stand. And Billy’s terrified of saying “I’m dating [person]!” and hearing Mary go “OH HELL NO.”

But from the League’s point of view, what they see is Marvel wanting to move on… but being stuck because Mary isn’t ready to move on with him and he’s not willing to leave her behind!

[chuxmy]

Hello! I really love all your work, especially the Seung Jae one. Speaking of Seung Jae, can I request a one shot smut about him (if you're comfortable to write smut) where reader and him have a private and secret relationship. Then one day, someone was flirting to the reader but reader is so shy and naive that she thinks that he is friendly to her. Then, Seung Jae saw it and felt rage, jealousy, and possessiveness towards her. Btw, their relationship is not toxic but there are times that it can be toxic when Seung Jae can't control his emotion. Thankie 😘

Only mine

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: You smiled at the wrong guy.

Warnings: Smut, explicit sexual content, possessiveness, jealousy, praise kink, mdni

A/N: *gulp* it‘s kinda hot in here..

You’ve always been soft.

Polite. Shy. The kind of person who smiles at strangers without thinking twice. It’s part of your charm one of the reasons Seongje fell for you. But sometimes, that sweetness felt like a curse.

Because it made people think they had a chance with you.

And today, someone took that chance.

It was during break, near the vending machines. A boy from another class. You didn’t know him well he wasn’t even on your radar. But he struck up a conversation. Said something about how you looked better every time he saw you, called you “adorable” in this half joking, half serious voice.

You thought he was being friendly.

You smiled. Awkwardly. Tucked your hair behind your ear and said, “That’s really nice of you,” like you always did.

You didn’t see the possessive stare from across the hallway.

But Seongje did.

He saw everything.

You don’t notice his silence until hours later after school, when you meet in the unused music room, like always.

You close the door behind you, expecting his usual smirk, his lazy voice teasing, “Took you long enough.”

But when you turn, he’s already across the room. Eyes dark. Hands in his pockets.

Something is off.

“Seongje?” you ask gently. “What’s wrong?”

He says nothing. Just stares at you.

Then moves.

Fast.

You barely register the way his hand slides behind your neck, how his mouth crashes onto yours, how your back slams into the nearest wall with a gasp. His kiss is rough. Messy. Tongue pushing past your lips like he’s trying to claim every part of you.

You whimper, clutching at his hoodie. “W-wait, what—?”

“You smiled at him,” he hisses against your lips.

You blink. “Who—?”

“That fucker by the vending machines.”

Your breath catches. “He was just being nice…”

He laughs, but it’s humorless. “You really believe that?”

You swallow. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem. You never think when it comes to this shit.”

His tone isn’t cruel, but it’s sharp. Laced with frustration. With something worse.. hurt. As if your smile had cut him in ways you didn’t even understand.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice small. “I didn’t mean to upset you—”

He kisses you again. Harder. Teeth clashing.

“You didn’t upset me,” he growls. “He did. But watching you smile at him like that… like you enjoyed it…”

“I didn’t,” you whisper.

But he doesn’t stop.

His hands are already under your shirt, calloused fingers skating across your ribs, making you shiver.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he murmurs darkly. “You don’t see how guys look at you. You think they just want to be friends?”

Your silence answers for you.

His hand slides up your thigh, under your skirt. You gasp when his fingers brush your inner thigh, the heat of him pressed between your legs.

“They want you,” he breathes, dragging his lips down your jaw, to your neck. “They want to take you from me. And you don’t even fucking notice.”

His touch is rough, almost desperate, like he’s trying to erase the idea of anyone else from your skin.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you say softly, trembling.

“I know,” he mutters, dragging your panties down. “You never do.”

Then, lower, much lower he rasps, “But you need to remember who this belongs to.”

You inhale sharply when he dips his head, mouth brushing against your core.

“I—I didn’t know someone could be this jealous…”

He looks up, eyes blazing.

“You think this is just jealousy?” His voice drops an octave. “I love you so much it makes me crazy.”

Then he slides his tongue along your folds.

You choke on your breath, hand flying to your mouth to muffle the moan. Your other hand buries in his hair, gripping tightly as his tongue moves with skill you didn’t know someone like him had.

“You’re already soaked,” he murmurs against you. “You liked me getting jealous, didn’t you?”

“N-no, I—”

“Liar.”

He fucks you with his tongue until your thighs shake.

Then he stands, pulling you to him. Lifting you with one strong arm under your thighs, he carries you to the piano bench and sets you down, your legs spread around him.

His pants drop. You barely see it happen, your eyes are half lidded with need, your breath uneven.

He doesn’t ask.

He slides in deep, all at once.

You cry out, your hands flying to his shoulders.

He’s big, he always is and this position makes it even deeper. You squirm, gasping his name.

“I know,” he groans, forehead resting against yours. “I know it’s a lot.”

But he doesn’t stop.

He won’t.

His hips begin to move slow at first, then faster. He grunts softly each time he sinks into you, the wet sound of your bodies filling the small room.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again and again. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“Yours,” you gasp, clinging to him like a lifeline. “Only yours.”

Your body wraps around him like you were made for him. His thrusts hit deep, dragging broken sounds from your throat.

You cry out when he hits that perfect spot inside you again. And again. And again.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice wrecked. “I want to see your face when I make you come.”

You do.

You look up at him, eyes wide and shining with emotion and he shatters.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Then your orgasm slams into you like a wave, blinding, breath stealing, intense. You moan, body shaking, clinging to him with everything you have.

He follows seconds later, hips jerking as he empties inside you, groaning your name.

When it’s over, he doesn’t move.

He stays pressed against you, arms around your waist, face buried in your shoulder.

You’re both breathing hard.

Your fingers stroke his hair.

“…You okay now?” you whisper.

He laughs quietly. “No.”

You blink.

He lifts his head. “Because I know I’ll feel this again. The second someone else even looks at you.”

You smile sadly. “You can’t keep getting mad at me for being… me.”

“I know.” He kisses your collarbone. “But I can remind you who you belong to.”

You cup his cheek.

“You don’t have to remind me.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your hand.

“…I still will.”

[mr-zestypants]

✩ First post!

Anaxa x m!reader (cis or trans), SFW, hurt/comfort

Squeezing a dead-man's heart with a duncey looking plushie.

“I thought you would like this, sorry- It’s a little ugly..” You sheepishly laughed, nervously looking to the floor.

Now that the time to actually present the gift was here, the effort you put into making and wrapping up this Anaxa-looking droma looked like you had instead paid a 5-year-old to create his gift.

Anaxa held the drooping plushie gently, he had no idea how to react.

You both stood still, scarily still. Your mind was running with those classic self deprecating thoughts: “Does he hate it? He loves dromas, he can’t! But, maybe he’s offended by the shitty eyepatch? Damn it, I should’ve just commissioned this!”

Meanwhile Anaxa still observed the plushie.

“I’m going to snuggle with this every single night.”

After an agonizing second he spoke at last, “Thank you, I will take good care of it.” He truly didn’t know what else to say. Although he had lots of thoughts about this silly little plush was he going to admit to any of them? Absolutely not.

His simple appraisal was enough to ease you in an instant. “I’m glad you like it!” You heaved, heart rate just beginning to slow.

Anaxa nodded in acknowledgment then quickly departed. He rushed himself to the bathroom to quietly cry about this small gift.

It was so simple, just a normal looking droma with an eyepatch horribly sewed and colored to look like his. He could tell the droma plush was bought and the eyepatch was done by his beloved, perhaps that made it all the more special.

He couldn’t help it when a stray tear just so happened to slip by his grasp, he felt weak. Memories of his sister and happy moments of his destroyed hometown hit him like the tide.

“Tch, this is pathetic.” Anaxa laughed to himself, staring at his disheveled stature in the mirror. Rarely did he cry, he would prefer to change it to never.

His abrupt departure had you confused. It was normal for him to leave in a rush but this was too rushed. Obviously you had to go after him, you would pass away waiting for him!

“Anaxagorous?” You called. Thankfully this was his house so you knew where to look.

Bedroom empty, office empty- there weren't exactly many places for a grown man to hide in; so you checked the bathroom.

You tried to open the door but of course it was locked. "Anaxagorous?" You pried softly, leaning into the door to hear if anything was amiss. If he was actually using the bathroom that would be really awkward. Then again, you didn't see the plushie placed anywhere- why the hell would he use the bathroom with a droma plush? You concluded something was wrong and if he was using the bathroom with a droma plush that would be especially awkward to witness.

Anaxa cursed under his breath, but what could he expect? He couldn't just weep in the bathroom like a sad child, hesitantly he opened the door.

“Apologies, I just-“

“You don’t have to talk about it, do you want a hug?”

He sighed, not initiating but nodding in approval. You walked forward- both of you just behind the bathroom’s door frame.

He was stiff, arms squeezing you gently but you could tell he wanted to squeeze just a bit more. A ragged sigh left his lips and he muttered, “Thank you..” right next to your ear.

Anaxa could feel his eye swell up again and a tear streak his face. Perhaps it was closest he felt to having his family back since the last time he laid eyes on her.

—

AN: AGHH FIRST POST!! Sorry if it’s OOC.. very much not proofread, lmk thoughts!!

[darlingdaisyfarm]

HEYY!! DIDN’T NOTICE THE ASK BUTTON UNTIL NOW! IM JUST WONDERING HOW YOUR DOING, AND HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAYYY (I apologize for not saying sooner, just found out how to like idk ask or something)

I SWEAR I DON’T MEAN TO SOUND PUSHY OR IF I ASK TOO MANY TIMES, PLEASE JUST SAY IF UTS ANNOYING, BUT DO YOU HAVE: “Jealous!Stanford Pines x Reader” ? CAUSE IDK IM JUST CURIOUS 😭💔

⋆౨ৎ˚ jealous!Ford x you hcs ˖ ࣪

ahhh, thank u so much sweetheart!! no it's not annoying at all, pls dont say that. and sure, here it is! honestly it was pretty helpful for me too because im writing a fic where Ford experiences jealousy. i think it also depends on what exactly he's jealous of (his own brother, random person, pet, etc) and your stage of the relationship

warning its a bit suggestive at the end

ꪆৎ Ford's jealous streak is most obvious when it comes to your mind, i think. like, if you’re showing too much interest in someone else’s ideas, books, or theories, he’ll be the first to drop some passive-aggressive comments

ꪆৎ you’re talking about some science or philosophy with someone, and Ford’s watching, feeling that tiny gnawing jealousy of someone challenging his brilliance. . . he won’t snap, but you'll catch him slipping in little comments, “well, actually, my research on this subject. . . ah, never mind. not worth mentioning to a layperson” ofc it's not directed at you! but to that idiot who dared to interest you

ꪆৎ later, though, after a long talk, he’ll pull you into his study and try to “explain” why only his thoughts matter <333 “you should know, sweetheart, i have 12 phds, allow me to explain you this properly.”

ꪆৎ “what? i’m not upset. i just think it’s interesting that you laughed at his joke when i’ve been trying to impress you with my brain for three years.”

ꪆৎ he starts touching you more too. hand on your knee during conversations. brushing your fingers when handing you smth. standing behind you, palm at the small of your back when you’re with others. and yet still, he doesn’t say a word because he doesn't wanna ruin anything. but his body moves on its own. “this is mine,” is what he’s trying to say

ꪆৎ Stan has always been the loud, charismatic one. Ford’s the thinker, the quiet one, who would rather bury himself in books than make small talk but he just cant help it. Ford doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like how his heart races with frustration or how his fists ball up, wanting to grab you and pull you away. he wont do it, but it doesn't mean he cant imagine it

ꪆৎ if you wear something revealing, Ford absolutely adores it, but insists on walking right next to you all evening

ꪆৎ he overhears you talking about a celebrity crush and spends ten minutes googling them in secret, furiously comparing their jawlines, yeah

ꪆৎ OMG. i believe he clears his throat when someone flirts with you... you know

ꪆৎ if it’s Stan flirting with you, Ford plays it off like he’s above it “Stanley, can you be serious for once?” but his eyes are laser-focused on you, reading your expression

ꪆৎ lmao, you'll probably hear smth as “i hope you had a pleasant conversation with my brother. he can be. . . charming, when he wishes.” prob says it with the politeness of someone screaming internally. and then he obsessively throws himself into work, convinced he's being ridiculous. you're allowed to have friends. you’re not his. not really

ꪆৎ i mean, he wants you to be. but he's terrified of what he might become if he lets himself act like it

ꪆৎ a lot of phrases like “well, i would’ve helped you carry that, but i assume your new friend has that covered.”

“no, go ahead! ill wait. im clearly not as exciting to talk to.” he’ll say it politely though, you wont even notice. even with a smile. and if you don’t pick up on it, he gets quiet and tells himself he’s just being irrational, but it still eats him alive

ꪆৎ Ford still tries to suppress it, but his eyes give him away. he stares. hard. at the person touching you. at the way your mouth curves. at your hands when they gesture

ꪆৎ and if he lets this jealousy win in the public, which happens like really rarely, Ford will absolutely pull you away from a conversation. six fingered hand at your elbow, “excuse us” and you’ll be halfway down the hall before he spins you against the wall

ꪆৎ but may also say, when you're two alone after you spend whole evening talking to someone, “oh, im sorry, were you enjoying yourself? you seemed so. . . engaged with them. i didn’t want to interrupt.”

ꪆৎ you get a pet. a cat, a dog, whatever. and suddenly your affection is going to this creature and not him. Ford doesn’t act out but he gets so still. sits next to you while you pet it, hand on your thigh, but not saying a word. you look over and he finally admits, looking so needy, “i’m being ridiculous but i want to be babied too” so you pull him into your lap instead and he kisses your shoulder with a quiet smile <3

ꪆৎ he gets also weirdly sulky about it. “you let the cat sleep on your chest, when it's my turn?”, “i counted, you kissed it on the head four times. i only got two :(” yes he’s serious. he’s a little unwell

ꪆৎ uhh, u call your pet “baby” and Ford visibly pouts

ꪆৎ if you’re talking to someone “too long” at a gathering, Ford won’t interrupt. but he will appear silently next to you, hand brushing your lower back, and when you finally break away and turn to him like “what’s up?” he’ll smile, as always, so polite. “nothing. i just missed the sound of your voice”

“that person seemed very interested in you. lucky them.”

“did you like the way they looked at you?”

ꪆৎ and the thing is, he’s insecure. so when he’s possessive, it’s always laced with guilt. Ford hates that he wants to stake a claim. hates how it feels to need you so much it makes his skin crawl when you’re focused on someone else

ꪆৎ Ford's jealousy always turns into guilt. he’s always so self-critical, he feels like he should be better than this. Ford knows it’s irrational, that you wouldn’t cheat or leave him for someone else, but it doesn’t stop the surge of possessiveness.

ꪆৎ he can’t help but feel like maybe he’s not enough for you, and that’s what sparks the jealousy in the first place. he feels the jealousy deep in his chest, this irrational, ugly thing he can’t quite stamp out

ꪆৎ he’ll kiss your neck just a little too hard. grip your wrist too long. but it’s always followed by “was that okay?” or “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to get carried away.” and god help him if you ever tease him for it

ꪆৎ “ohhh, baby. you’re jealous, aren’t you?” he’ll bristle, sputter, adjust his coat and glasses, trying to avoid looking into your eyes. “that’s ridiculous. i— no, i simply don’t appreciate disrespect. I’m not. . . possessive.” but when you'll play this game of silence, watching him, waiting him to spill it, oh he will!! “okay. was it that obvious?” he’ll say this so small. you’ll want to eat him alive <3

ꪆৎ Ford doesn’t always keep it all bottled up, so then, when you’re finally alone and he got u all to himself, he’s kissing you, but being more rough about it, not like hurting you, but sometimes, i like when Ford gets more dominant and brave in his actions. hand around your jaw, palm splayed across your back, pulling you in. “you’re mine.” he'll whisper right into your lips because hes lowkey getting turned on by your little gasps whenever he tightens his grip. “no one else gets to hear these sounds from you. please, tell me, tell me im the only one.” he always has to ask, always needs to hear it back

ꪆৎ if you ever jokingly mention how hot he gets when jealous, he will hide his face in your shoulder/neck/hair, very very quietly muttering, “you’re cruel, honey, you enjoy making me lose my mind, don’t you?”