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moonchildstyles · 1 day ago

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pomegrante part two: y/n finally convinces harry to go out with her and her friends, but the night really starts when they make it home

wordcount: 9.2k+

—————

"What's for dinner tonight?"

(Y/N) peeked over Harry's shoulder, her hands landing on his back to keep her steady. There was a whole empty stretch of counter she could have stationed herself, where a well enough view would have shown her what he was doing at the stove, and yet she chose the option to put her hands on him and let him breathe in the bouquet of her scent.

His lungs squeezed on instinct.

"Jus'—uh—some macaroni and cheese. Thought it would be easy and all," he murmured, attempting to keep his voice even and mind from wandering.

It had been a week since the drunken night in his bedroom had turned into the morning spent between his sheets, and yet Harry wasn't sure he'd ever actually recovered. Every now and again, when a particularly vivid memory of her hand fisted around him came to the forefront of his mind, he was out of commission for a few moments, something akin to an aftershock racing up his spine.

(Y/N) definitely wasn't making it any easier to move past the intimate moment with the way she seemed to have completely forgone any kind of barrier that had previously kept her from being touchy-feely with him. It was moments like this—with her hands on his back in the middle of the kitchen—that had plagued him and kept him stuck on the week prior.

Most mornings now included a lingering hug goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The days where he beat her home, she would make a point to come and say hello to him once she'd returned from her own work day. Cuddling on the couch during a show or movie, was something that no longer required any build up; from the moment they sat down, she was at his side with her shoulder bumping his and knee skimming the cuff of his own with every shift of her form.

Tonight, she held no hesitation before she was draping herself over his form, the warmth of her body sinking into him. Instinctively, he wanted to melt and relax, allow his bones to go malleable so that he could wrap around her the way he wanted. At the same moment, his spine went stiff, keeping him at attention as he was unwilling to miss even a single brush of her fingers.

"That sounds good, H," she smiled, decidedly much more at ease than her counterpart, "Do you want any help?"

"No, I've got it," he swallowed, curling his mouth into a smile as he turned his face to find her gaze already trained right on him, "Thank you, though."

"Okay," she sighed, dropping down from her tip toes and edging out towards the living room, "I guess I can just watch our show then."

He laughed at her exaggerated show, playing along as if she were the one doing the hard work for the night. "I hope y'can manage."

"We'll see" she sang just before sweeping out of the space and taking the butterflies in Harry's stomach along with her.

His chest deflated as a deep breath left his lungs. It was embarrassing to admit that, from just the smallest moment, his cock had stirred for no other reason than the fact that it was (Y/N) that had touched him. There was a part of him that figured that after that night in his bed, that he would have been freed from that lingering kind of desire; that he would have gotten everything out of his system and would have been able to move on as only her friend, but everything appeared to only have intensified.

That's why every touch and every moment seemed to make a larger mark on him. More often than not, he was transported right back to his sheets, (Y/N) tucked to his side and his chest heaving. He knew what she felt like—the touch of her hands, the heat of her skin, the pump of her heart—and he wasn't going to be able to easily forget that.

A furrow appeared in his brow as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to finish making dinner, and then he would worry about (Y/N) and what it meant that he couldn't look at her now without a rosy glow glossing over his vision.

—————

Scratching his head, Harry stared at his laptop screen. A spreadsheet illuminated his face.

While he loved his project team and enjoyed his department colleagues, there were times—just like this one—that made him wonder if he was going to be driven mad on their account. The equations and rules posted in each of these cells made little to no sense, he couldn't fathom why Tylor would think this was good enough to pass along an—

"Boo!"

A fumbled curse fell from Harry's mouth as he practically jumped out of his skin. Snapping his head to look over his shoulder as he roughly pulled his headphones off of his head, he saw (Y/N) giving him a goofy grin, biting back a laugh.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, his heart rate settling back to normal.

"Did I get you?" she giggled, her hands still on his shoulder though now her grip turned into a massaging roll.

"Yeah," he laughed, sagging in his chair, " Y'scared the shit out of me."

Her laughter only bubbled brighter. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"'S alright." He shook his head as his eyes followed (Y/N) as she fell back to sit on his bed, "You're home early."

"Yeah," she sang, propping herself up with a hand behind her on his mattress, "My supervisor let me go early since I finished all of my reports yesterday."

"That's nice," he smiled, making a point not to focus on the fact that seeing her in his bed elicited a much different reaction than it used to. "What are y'gonna do with all of your extra free time?"

Something sparkled in her eyes then, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth though she made an effort to keep it from stretching wide. "That's what I came to talk to you about actually."

"Yeah?" A flush crept up the base of his throat.

"Yeah," she chirped, "I talked to Rue and Kim, and I think we might go out tonight. They're bringing a couple of friends and I think Kim is asking her roommate to come too."

"That'll be fun," Harry encouraged, pretending everything that happened after her last girls night didn't happen. "Y'gonna be here for dinner then, or do y'want me to save the leftovers for tomorrow?"

"Actually," she started, canting her head with a blink of her eyes, "I was wondering if you might want to come with me tonight."

Harry's mouth suddenly ran dry. (Y/N) had talked about him joining her and her friends on a night out many different times, but he never gave it much thought. He was never one for big parties or crowded clubs, even during his university days. He was sure (Y/N) knew as much.

He fumbled for an answer—a kind way to decline her invitation once more—, though (Y/N) seemingly met him halfway and cut him off.

"I know you don't usually like going out like this," she started, eyes turning pleading, "But, I really, really think you'd have a good time. The bars we pick are fun, I mean it." He watched as her expression shifted, a glint passing through her eyes though her smile turned coy. "And you could meet someone, you know."

That was the first illusion to any facet of the conversation that had taken place in his bedroom that week and a half ago. She wanted him to meet someone, still?

While Harry had been well aware that what had transpired wasn't going to, and didn't change a single thing between them, she also hadn't again brought up the idea of setting him up. He had figured that now that she knew his secret, that she understood why he wasn't looking to find a random person in a bar, or be set up through anyone.

(And, maybe there was the smallest, most minuscule part of him that hoped that, maybe, she was no longer interested in seeing him with someone else anymore. That, maybe she had found the same book he had pulled, and was working herself to the same page. A futile hope, he supposed).

"I don't know, (Y/N)," he sighed, bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, "I've still got a lot I need to get done today."

He dared to match her gaze from where his eyes had skated over her shoulder. Her glittery, pretty, clear eyes didn't shy away from him. Her lashes flared when she blinked at him, a small gape to her lips.

"Please, H," she murmured, a small curl touching the corner of her mouth, "You're really going to make me beg—just for a couple of hours of your time?"

Harry swallowed, making a point to drop his gaze from hers. Beg? She was going to beg for him?

Why would she say that? Was she trying to make him fall to the floor? Light on fire?

A warm flush crept up his neck. "Beg?" he choked out.

"I will if you really want me to," she offered, amusement in her voice though Harry wasn't finding the joke.

"No, no, 's alright," he rushed out, sparing himself and his briefs the trouble, "Y'really want me to go?"

"Of course, I do!" Harry hadn't realized how the air had stilled, or the way her voice had dropped until she suddenly perked up. The cheer now injected in her tone was a stark difference to whatever it was that had been between them just a moment before. "I promise you'd have so much fun; if anything we'll get to have a night out for the first time in forever."

Truthfully, did he really think he was going to be able to say no? Especially when she sat so prettily on his bed and was willing to beg for him.

He took in a deep breath, as if he were taking on a heavy burden before he looked to (Y/N) with thinned lips. "Okay."

It was the joy and excitement that lit her up that had Harry feeling certain in his decision. He'd never had a chance.

"Harry, really?! I'm so excited!" She popped up from his bed only to hug him as best she could while he was still stationed in his desk chair.

He only hesitated for a moment, his limbs stiff for a breath before he succumbed to the warmth. Feeling the strands of hair on the crown of her head tickling the tip of his nose strung memories back to the front of his mind, the kind that had his heart plunging against his ribs just as she pulled away.

"I'm going to tell everyone, and I'll let you know what time and everything." Her chattering voice filled his room even as she began towards his door. "We should probably eat before we go out, but I'll let you know what we figure out." She paused in the threshold. "Are you excited?"

The way she was looking at him, grin wide and eyes bright, he was only able to answer honestly. "Very excited."

With one more grin over her shoulder, she disappeared out of view.

Harry had his eyes fixed to the door frame for a lingering moment. His lungs expanded at full capacity for the first time since she had barged in, his heart beginning to even out. He blinked as he attempted to get back to work, urging himself to focus on something familiar before he was going to have to deal with the deal he made for the night.

When she was sitting in front of him, the perspective of a smoky bar with her sounded fun and exciting. Now he was alone with the reality of a sticky, overpriced bar being his plans for the night, he could only hope that his original excitement prevailed.

—————

(Y/N) had her hand wrapped around Harry's wrist as she led them through the congested line in front of the bartop. He couldn't help but to mumble his sorrys and excuse mes despite knowing not a single person was listening. Holding up the rear, Harry could see ahead to where Rue and her roommate lead the charge, followed by Kim, and her boyfriend, along with Cora and her brother. The usual suspects in (Y/N)'s life; some he met back when they were both in university, others she met through work.

Meeting up outside of the bar didn't leave much room for small talk and catching up before they were herded inside, but it was long enough for Harry to see the surprise that crossed Rue and Kim's faces. They hadn't believed that he was really going to show up tonight. And, he couldn't blame them, even if it did make him feel a bit sheepish; he hoped none of them had an ill opinion of him because of that.

The so-called bar that had been chosen for the night was verging on a night club with the way the music was pounding loud through the room. There wasn't a designated spot for dancing , but it appeared the space had been made with the way there were few tables in the room aside from the bartop and the booths lining the room. The empty space before the DJ became the dancefloor, their warm bodies swaying and moving together. Other than strobing party lights, the bar was left in the dark.

Rue, thanks to a connection with one of the bouncers and a bartender, was able to sweep them through the congestion in the bar to find an empty booth in the back. It was secluded, behind the large speakers of the DJ. Harry was sure he was going to have a ringing in his ears for the rest of the weekend after this, but it was a preferable spot compared to just standing around while others pushed around.

"This good?!" Rue shouted to the line behind her (or at least Harry figured she shouted, he was just making do with reading her lips).

It only took a few nodding heads before the group took over the vinyl seating. (Y/N) kept him close, pulling him to sit on the end of the curving booth beside her. She grinned up at him, her teeth splashed in flickers of blue and magenta thanks to the lights above.

"What do you think!?" she bubbled, close enough that Harry could just hear the octaves of her voice.

"'S a lot," he answered, ducking down to hover his lips by her ear, "A little sticky."

She laughed at his words. "Yeah, I never wear cute shoes here. Thank you for coming, though."

The way she smiled at him made up for the sweat already beginning to slick the back of his head, and the way the soles of his shoes may never be the same after this. When she looked up at him with eyes sparkling, grin wide, he wondered why he'd never said yes to a night like this before.

"(Y/N)!"

Whipping their heads to look across the table, Cora's brother, Colin had his gaze on (Y/N). The planes of his face were highlighted under the beams of strobing light, long shadows cast by the length of his lashes and the point of his chin. Harry knew Colin was a good looking man, and maybe that was why he felt a pinch of jealousy sting the middle of his chest. Especially when he smiled at (Y/N) like that; Harry wondered if that was what he looked like when he gazed at her too.

"I'm going to the bar, what do you want?"

She rattled off a simple order, something fruity and sweet that he knew was her favorite. As soon as she finished though, she looked at Harry, brows raised in question. "What do you want?"

Flicking his eyes to Colin, Harry saw the way his lips thinned. Maybe it was because (Y/N)'s attention was spread elsewhere. Or, it could just be the way his face looked, Harry reminded himself.

Nonetheless, Harry met Colin's eyes across the table and shared his own order. "Thank you," he smiled, even if Colin didn't give more than a nod of acknowledgment.

He and Cora excused themselves a moment later, heading back into the throes of patrons towards the bar.

Harry didn't want to, but he had a feeling he was going to be keeping an eye on him through the night.

At his side, (Y/N) bumped him to grab his attention. "You're going to dance with me tonight, right?"

A smile crept onto the corners of his mouth. "I don't know, (Y/N)," he drawled, "Are y'sure you're ready for everyone to know 'm a better dancer than you?"

She let out a peal of laughter, bright and tinkling compared to the heavy bass rattling through his bones. "I guess I'll have to manage," she teased, both of them knowing the truth about his coordination, "I promise I'll get out of your way when people start cutting in to take my place with you."

Harry played along, graciously accepting her offer. "I think that's best for the both of us." With a moment's hesitation, he gently laid his hand on her knee. While (Y/N) didn't even blink at the contact, Harry could feel his heart rate jumping as if he wasn't the one who had made the first move.

Especially when she threw her head back laughing and leaned right into his touch, angling her body just so, he questioned if there were any others in the room.

As if Harry would accept anyone else's hand tonight.

—————

Bringing the small black straw to her pursed lips, (Y/N) bit back her laughter as she saw Harry move horrendously so to the music pumping around them. Tonight's game apparently was going to be one where they threw out the worst moves they could, leaving the other to replicate them and make them that much more uncoordinated. It wasn't the right game to play if they were attempting to catch anyone's eye, but that was far from Harry's mind at the moment. All he wanted was to keep (Y/N) having fun.

Rue, Kim, and the others weren't very far away with Colin and Kim's boyfriend having taken to staying in the booth to stake claim of the space. It wasn't hard to catch Colin looking (Y/N)'s way more than once. Even if he didn't seem particularly happy with the fact she had been sticking with Harry through most of the night, Colin hadn't tried anything more than watching on with a slight pinch to his features.

Just as (Y/N) was going to match his move and add on something extra ridiculous, her eyes lit up, flicking over his shoulder. Spitting the chewed up straw from her mouth, she crossed the few steps between them with a giddy smile. She gestured him to lean down for her, leaving his ear level with her mouth.

"There's a girl behind you that's been looking at you! I just saw her say something to one of her friends and point at you," (Y/N) bubbled, almost stumbling over her words, "I think she's going to come over here!"

Harry wanted to match her excitement. He wanted to look at her smile and offer up his own. But there was nothing about this revelation that made him as excited as she wanted him to be. Was it nice to be admired, and have someone know nothing about him and still want to get to know him just from one look? Sure.

But, if that person wasn't (Y/N), he didn't have much interest.

"I can leave if you want," she rattled on, "So she doesn't feel weird coming over here!"

"No, no," Harry immediately fired off, "'S alright. I want to keep dancing with you."

It was a simple admission, one that could be easily shared between friends, but felt loaded falling from his tongue.

"But, H," (Y/N) countered, "This is the best time to meet new people! It might be fun to have someone other than me hanging around, don't you think?"

Immediately, Harry wanted to say no. It wouldn't be very fun in his opinion, to retrace all of his vulnerabilities and secrets to be shared with someone else when (Y/N) was right there. She already knew any and everything there was to know about him, he didn't need to share any more.

His silence was taken the wrong way by (Y/N). A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. "If you're still nervous about what you told me, I promise you'll be fine. Don't let it stop you from meeting a nice girl." She paused for a moment, Harry's throat bobbing as he swallowed around his dry tongue. "I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. If that makes you feel better."

Suddenly, he could feel the heavy beat of his heart as it matched the bass of the music pouring from the speakers. What kind of twisted pep talk; one where she was encouraging him to meet other women and to not hold back due to his lack of prowess, while also offering to help him get some of those firsts off of his plate.

He took in a heavy breath, grateful that he could still glean notes of her perfume over the rest of the sticky, smoky scent that filled the bar. "Yeah?" he breathed, already getting much too wrapped up in the implications of her offer.

"Of course," she bubbled, entirely too bright for where his mind was going, "You don't have to worry about things like that. If any girl is worth your time, she'd never feel any kind of way about that part of you."

Harry gave a slight shake of his head. "No—um—I mean... Y'really mean y'still want to help me?"

(Y/N) reared back just enough to catch his eye, her half finished drink left to the wayside as she chewed on her bottom lip instead. "Of course."

It verged on embarrassing how just those two innocuous words were able to cause a stirring in his stomach, his pants needing an adjustment.

Before he had a chance to say anything in response, Harry felt a hand settle on his arm. (Y/N)'s expression loosened, her eyes widening when she saw whoever was behind him. She didn't say anything before she urged him with her hand on his shoulder to turn around, a bounce of her brows.

Forcing himself to turn over his shoulder, Harry found a pretty girl with lengthy brown hair and honey eyes looking up at him. Her skin was powdered and highlighted to perfection, her lips a juicy pink with blush to match. Her lashes flared around her eyes, like a cat's eye.

"Hi," she smiled, bouncing on the tips of her toes, "Sorry if I'm interrupting. I hope this isn't weird, but you're just really cute; my friends have been telling me to come and talk to you since we came in."

Harry wanted so badly to feel flattered. He wanted to feel a flush go up his cheeks and warm his already glistening skin. But, he just didn't.

All he felt was reluctance when (Y/N) excused herself, muttering that she was going back to the table.

"Um," Harry fumbled, forcing a dimpled smile onto his cheeks, "Thank you. I think you're cute, too."

It was true, the compliment. Though that was where it stopped. She was a pretty girl, but not the one he wanted.

She let out a sweet giggle, her drink sloshing in hand. "Do you want to dance?"

He couldn't help but to cut a look over his shoulder, finding (Y/N) sitting with Colin and Rue's roommate. An encouraging smile beamed from her features.

He swallowed thickly. She wanted him to take this girl up on her offer.

Honestly, he would have, if not for that smile on her face. As pretty as this girl was, she wasn't ever going to have the same creased by her eyes, the same crinkle to her nose, the same grin on her face. She wasn't the one that he saw himself readily watching reality dating shows with. She wasn't the one he wanted to end his night with. Not when (Y/N) was right there; not when she was the one he trusted the most.

"Actually," Harry started, morphing his features into an apology before the actual words even left his mouth, "I came here for a friend's birthday tonight; not really trying to meet anyone tonight."

The lie came out less than smooth, but it appeared that was all the explanation the girl required.

Her lips formed an O as she gazed up at him. "I see, no worries," she bubbled off, shaking her head, "I totally get it! Maybe I could give you my number or something? So next time you go out, you can just text me if you want to meet up."

Harry felt terribly guilty the more sweet and understanding she was. Rejection had never been and would never be his strong suit. And he wasn't going to be able to hone his skills tonight.

"Sure," he choked out, already unlocking his phone to be passed along to her hands.

She happily tapped away at his screen as she added her number to his contacts, a winking emoji stamped at the end of her name (Viola, he learned).

"Have a fun night!" she beamed at him before leaving to rejoin her friends.

Following suit, Harry pretended he didn't feel any eyes on him as he retreated towards (Y/N) in the booth. It was then that he caught the wolfish smile on Colin's face dissipate when he realized Harry was on his way back.

"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, throwing a glance around him towards the woman he retreated from.

Harry shrugged, sliding into the booth at her side. "She and her friends are leaving soon. She gave me her number."

(Y/N) clasped her hands in a giddy clap. "No way! She so likes you, H! I'm so happy for you!"

It was cute, the way she bubbled his praises, as if he'd done anything at all to warrant the approach from Viola.

"When are you going to text her?" She leaned towards him (and away from Colin) with a conspiratorial smile.

Once again, Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He dropped his gaze from hers, hoping she wouldn't press for more explanation when he answered, "Not sure yet."

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, drooping some, "Well, wh—"

Just then, thankfully so, Kim approached the table with clear eyes, her boyfriend draped around her with his own gaze looking much less coherent. "Hey, I think I'm going to take him home," she shouted to (Y/N) over the music, "Do you want to ride with us, or are you going to stay? I think Rue and Cora are planning on staying until last call."

(Y/N) immediately looked towards Harry, brows raised in question. "Are you ready to go home? Or did you want to stay?"

He gave a small cant of his head, warmed by the attention she gave him. "'M alright with whatever y'want to do."

Before he even finished speaking, (Y/N) shook her head with a roll of her eyes. "No, H. What do you want to do?"

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry didn't stand a chance before his mind wandered right back to the offer she made to him on the dance floor. He... Well, he would never assume that (Y/N) would drop and follow through right away, though there was a higher chance if they weren't in public.

"I could be ready to go home, if you are."

(Y/N)'s features softened into a smile. "Okay," she said just before turning to Kim, "We'll go home with you, if that's alright."

It was her turn to drop a hand on his knee, a slight squeeze of her fingers around the cuff. That was all it took to have his stomach tightening and heart choking his throat.

Harry wondered if he would always be this easy, or if it was just (Y/N).

Hopefully, going home early would help him find out.

—————

Harry waved one last time to Kim and her boyfriend before they drove off. Behind him, on the small tiled space just past the threshold, (Y/N) struggled with her teetering heels.

"Are y'alright?" he murmured as he closed the door, the lock clicking into place a moment later.

"Kinda," she sighed, "Hold on." Just as he turned to face her, (Y/N) placed her hand on his abdomen. Her fingers pressed through the material of his top just over the ridges of muscles lining his torso, steadying herself as she carefully attempted to shuck her shoes off.

His lungs stunted, his eyes dropping to where she was just short of kneeling in front of him. The last time she touched him so low on his stomach was when he had guided her palm down his abdomen before she had taken his cock in her fist. The memory had his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, a curtain of her hair hanging over her features, "I didn't want to sit on the floor—I don't think I would have gotten up."

He knew he was supposed to laugh along, especially when she let out a breathy laugh as she was finally able to kick off her shoes. Kicking her shoes to the side, she gave a chummy pat to his stomach before she rose to her full height. When she met his gaze, her demeanor was decidedly brighter and lighter than the direction his thoughts had taken.

"What's wrong?" she immediately chirped, her brows slanting as she gazed up at him.

Harry forced himself back into the moment, blinking back into the middle of his home. "Um," he coughed, turning away from her prying eyes, "Nothing—sorry, I zoned out."

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) pressed, canting her head. Her eyes fell from his face and down the line of his neck. "Do you feel hot? You're turning red, H."

A streak of guilt trickled through his system. She was genuinely concerned for him while he was a moment away from allowing himself to imagine if she had actually dropped to her knees in front of him and made good on the offer she extended only hours prior.

Shaking his head, he tried his best to fight off the natural reactions his body gave when it came to his roommate. "'M alright, really. Jus' a little tired, I think."

(Y/N) initially seemed to buy his excuse, but in that same moment, he saw something flash across her gaze. Her concerned features shifted until there was a sly smile on her lips, brows bouncing above her accusing eyes.

"Ohhh, I see," she sang as she all but bounced on her toes, "You want to go talk to your new girlfriend."

His eyes widened at her accusation. What map had she used to get to that destination?

"Th-That's not—'M not—"

"It's alright, I get it," she teased, putting her hands up as if in surrender, "I'll let you get to bed. Just let me know if you need any help deciphering what the amount of i's in her Hi mean, or if the exclamation points mean she's flirting or just happy."

Harry swallowed, shaking his head. "'M not—I don't... She was nice, but I don't think 'm going to text her."

"And, that's alright!" she bubbled, realizing he wasn't planning on playing into her chiding, "I was only teasing. At least you put yourself out there, that's all that matters."

A short smile touched the corners of his lips. He wasn't very interested in putting himself out there when what he wanted was right here at home. "Thanks," he mumbled nonetheless.

Her expression grew gentle then, the look of a best friend who wanted to know what was going on in her companion's head. No more teasing was going on as far as he could see. "Why are you all flustered then? You didn't drink much tonight, but it's okay if you're feeling sick."

"No, I—" he cut himself off before he stumbled into revealing the truth. "'S nothing."

(Y/N) was skeptical, that much was obvious on her face. "Harry."

"(Y/N), 'm fine."

She canted her head, looking up at him through fanned lashes. "Harry."

"(Y/N)."

"Harry, there's no way anything you're thinking can be that bad, that you can't even tell me."

There was something in the lilt of her voice, the way she so innocently pushed to know more about him in that moment. Harry wasn't sure what exactly it was, but there wasn't much fight left but the time she finished speaking.

Truly, once again, he'd laid bare each and every of his secrets and most embarrassing moments before her. What was one more?

For a split second, he thought back into that crowded bar.

I can still help you with all of... that, anyway.

He could still feel the fan of her breath tickling across his neck. He saw the way her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him with clear eyes. He saw the sincerity in her irises—both just before in the bar, as well as when she was wrapped up in his sheets.

All of this because he had the breath taken away from him when he saw her almost kneel in front of him when taking off her shoes.

"H—"

"I was thinking about you," he rushed out, unintentionally cutting her off, "And, the—uh—thing y'said at the bar. About... helping me."

A look of confusion struck her expression before she seemingly caught up. Her eyes brightened, a near imperceptible drop of her gaze down his form before she returned to his face.

"Oh. Are you... right now?"

They both knew the answer to her question. The suspicion only confirmed when he didn't offer any response.

Her socked feet shifted over the carpet, the front door still only mere feet away. A small reminder that he'd not even fully made it into his home before he was taken by the sight of her alone.

"You want... me?"

The genuine curiosity in her tone was enough to have Harry's insides beginning to roil. Of course, he wanted her; she was the only person he can remember wanting enough to act this vulnerable.

"Um, yeah," he answered, tongue fumbling over the words, "By the door, you were... almost on your knees."

Peeking at her, Harry gauged her reaction to his admission.

He watched as she blinked, lashes fluttering. Her eyes dropped down from his eyes, skipping to his pelvis. Harry didn't have to follow her gaze to know that she was seeing the slight semi he was sporting through his trousers.

"Really?" she chirped, looking up at him through her wispy lashes.

Harry shrugged, only a single corner of his lips daring to give a slight curl. "Back at the bar," he started, "Y'said... y'still wanted to help, so."

He didn't need to say more, not when a light entered (Y/N)'s gaze. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. A sweet smile bloomed over her lips.

"And you've just been thinking about that?"

His smile turned sheepish. He didn't think this was the time to really detail just how often she was on his mind.

A sparkling laugh fell from her lips then. "C'mon then, H," she bubbled, taking his hand in hers.

Something akin to a daze fell over his body. Harry didn't feel a single breath of hesitation as he followed (Y/N) from the front door. All he did was follow her steps to their sofa, his eyes unabashedly landing on her backside and the way her skirt hugged her hips.

"You said you liked me on my knees, right?"

Harry didn't think before he was humming a confirmation.

"Then I have an idea for something new tonight."

It was then that she dragged him to sit down on the sofa. Harry blinked, unsure of what to do with his hands before (Y/N) took her spot before him. On her knees.

His heart was reeled right up to his throat. She wasn't...

With her knees cushioned by their plush area rug (one she bought into the equation when she moved in), she scooted towards him. Her skirt rolled up over the smooth skin of her thighs, revealing more and more of her, parts that Harry couldn't help but to imagine gripping and squeezing in the heat of the moment.

"Is this okay?" she asked, so sweet and kind. Her hands landed on the cuffs of his knees.

"Um," Harry started, his mouth incredibly dry as it fell into a gape as he gazed down at her, "Yeah—Yes. Really okay."

The smile on her lips was so pretty. It wasn't fair that she would just look like that, not when she was working her hands up his thighs.

"You're funny, H."

He wanted to respond, really. But then she started undoing the fastenings of his trousers. He could do nothing other than watch her manicured fingers unbutton the waist and pull down the zipper. His cock stirred even just from the slight brushes of her hands.

Goosebumps erupted on his skin when she started pulling down his pants. Harry could feel her eyes on him when he lifted his hips to help her along, the kind of warm feeling that had his spine stringing up straight.

The warmth was no doubt becoming visible on his skin, a flush creeping up from the base of his throat to the apples of his cheeks. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in quiet puffs as (Y/N)'s deft fingers crept up his thighs. The inky tiger tattooed on the meat of his leg was delicately traced with the tip of her fingernail. His cock jumped.

"You said you've never done anything before?" she pressed, her voice drawing him in as if he weren't already hooked.

Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Other than what we've done, yeah."

"Okay," she sounded, her fingers now creeping under the hem of his briefs, "We'll figure out what you like then. If I do something that feels good, just tell me and I'll keep doing it."

She said it so simply, as if they weren't talking about what he was going to feel when she put him in her mouth. The feel of her touch under the legs of his briefs was enough to have his toes curling in his shoes, his hands reaching for the fallen throw blanket behind him.

Had it really only been a week or so since they were holed up in his bedroom? His body reacted to her like he was starved, hungering for even a brush of her hand over his bare skin. Had he really thought that having her once was going to be enough to get her out of his system? Had he thought that just one touch was going to be enough?

Harry practically sunk into the sofa when she pulled one of her hands from the leg of his underwear and instead brushed over the bulge of his cock. He felt the press of her hand over his length, the ridge of his head pressing into her palm. The catch of her nails over his thigh as she scratched down over his tattoo was felt through his body, his bottom lip being caught between his teeth.

He was only slightly aware of her eyes skipping up to land on his face while his own were trained on her hand palming his length through his boxers. The material began to stretch further as he stiffened against her touch, the cut at the front of his underwear pulling open.

When the first blurt of precum stained the front, Harry felt more of that heat creep up his skin.

"Sorry," he murmured, already anticipating the mess that he was going to have to clean up tonight.

"Why?" she asked, so easily with her eyes peeking up at him.

So badly did Harry want to answer her, but she also decided to hook her fingers underneath the waist of his underwear in that same moment the question was posed. His mind went momentarily blank. All he could process was the catch of her nails over his hip bones, the drag of the material over his sensitized length, the fact that it was (Y/N).

Her question was lost when they both turned to focus on his cock as it bobbed free of the confines of his boxers. The head was already ruddy, veins roping around the length. Thank god he had just trimmed up down there before going out.

"Okay?"

Blinking back to the world, Harry looked to (Y/N) with a gape to his lips. "Huh?"

Her smile was too pretty to be fair. Especially not when she was seemingly bracing herself from her spot on her knees between his legs. "You're okay?"

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, mouth moving faster than his head, "'M so okay—so fucking okay. I've been thinking about this all week."

Her brows shot up over her eyes, light flitting through her eyes. "Really? Even when you were talking to your girlfriend tonight?"

He knew, in the back of his mind, that she was teasing him. The way she said the word full of extra sing-song syllables, the same way she would have teased him if he weren't half naked. But there was absolutely no room in his head where he could find any joke to play along.

"I was thinking about y'the whole time," he confessed, "She—She's not you."

"Harry," she crooned, her eyes soft and rounded, "You can't talk like that. Not when I'm about to suck you off; you'll make me cry instead. And not in a hot way."

Unable to hold back any more, Harry let out a flowing moan. The gravel of his voice filled their home, disrupting the hushed tones they had been using before.

Why would she say that? When he was barely holding everything together, why would she say that?

He couldn't keep his mind from wandering to the idea of her blinking back tears with her lips stretched around his cock. Harry never wanted to see her shed any tears—especially over him—but this idea, full of smudged mascara and glossy eyes, didn't sound so bad at all.

His composure being something just out of reach, Harry didn't have a chance before he could feel the breath of (Y/N)'s slight laugh fanning across his heated length. Just barely was he able to force himself to peel his eyes open to catch sight of her pressing her lips to the head of his cock.

It was a gentle kiss, the same kind that she would plant on his cheek when in a particularly touchy mood. Not the kind of thing that should have made the muscles banding his thighs and blocking his abdomen grow exponentially tighter.

Harry tightly clutched the throw blanket at his sides, the material thinning against the force of his fingers. Nothing could have prepared him for how deeply something so simple affected him.

(Y/N) continued with only a small crease appearing between her brows. She kissed the crown of his length more than once, dragging the pillows of her pretty lips over the heated skin. As innocent as the act appeared, it was immediately stomach twisting when he saw the way the thin strings of his cum connected her mouth to his head. The gloss she had lost back at the bar, was back in the form of Harry's own pleasure.

Pinning his bottom lip between his teeth, he watched with clenched hands while (Y/N)'s own moved along the strength of his thighs. One stayed braced over the ink of his tiger, fingertips denting the plush skin in an anchoring touch. The other continued on until her fist was wrapped around the base.

A swift breath was sucked in through his nose at the touch. Once again, he was reminded that his hand paled in comparison to hers. No one else in the world could be as soft, as gentle, as firm, as perfect as she was.

Her name fell from his lips in crooning prayers, Harry sinking further into the cushion.

Though he was sure his lungs stopped only a heartbeat later. Silence fell over the house, Harry's mouth dropped open in a soundless moan as she took her kissing a step further and tucked his head between her lips.

The heat of her mouth felt scorching over his sensitive skin, her soothing tongue laving over him. Her hand at the base of his cock worked up and over his length in lingering strokes.

Why hadn't anyone told him it could feel like this? No wonder there were millions of videos on seedy sites just about this subject alone. After last week, he doubted any pleasure could top that, and yet, here he was.

Before he had a chance to become accustomed to the feel of her mouth, (Y/N) pulled away with a soft pop of her lips. She kept her hand moving along his length as she gazed up at him, head canted.

"Do you want me to go deeper? Or do you like that?" she murmured, her voice lingering and warm.

"Deeper, deeper," he rushed out, lips slicked and swollen.

She didn't give anything more than a short smile before Harry watched as she dipped her head and took him back between her lips.

A moan of her name fell from his lips, sandwiched between swears too jumbled to make much sense of. True to her offer, she lingered over his head for only a moment before she surged forward, taking him deeper. Harry felt hypersensitive at that moment.

He swore he could feel each bud on her tongue pillowing against his sensitive length. The gentle suction of her cheeks hollowing out around him. The coaxing of her throat as she swallowed him down the further she took him.

Saliva dripped down his length, slicking her hand as she continued the rhythmic pumping. Harry couldn't look away, but could barely keep his eyes open.

Watching her felt like looking into the sun—like he was going to go blind, like he couldn't watch for longer than a moment before was going to lose it. But, he couldn't look away. He was lucky enough to have had her touch once, let alone twice. He couldn't act like this was ever going to happen a third time. He had to savor each and every moment.

Even when he felt the tight channel of her throat closing around the very tip of his cock, he forced his eyes to stay open. Even when he saw that moment that had his muscles going taut with (Y/N)'s eyes growing glossy. It should have broken his heart to see her blinking back tears, but he only felt the winding of the pit of his stomach.

Twice in a row, he was not going to be able to last. Twice in a row was he going to embarrass himself in front of his ultimate dream girl.

But, god, was it worth it.

"(Y/N), I—"

She cut him off with a slight gag closing her throat, enough for her to pull off for a steadying breath. Her mouth was slick and swollen, dropped in a gape as she dragged in breath after breath.

"Sorry," she mumbled, continuing the strokes of her hand, "Scared myself. I just need a second."

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry," he muttered, finally giving in and throwing his head back with his eyes screwed shut. Precum streamed out of his cock, vein throbbing "You're perfect, love. So perfect."

The breathy laugh she let out was watery. "Thanks, H. You're perfect, too."

He should have felt silly, having given out such rambling praise right now, when it would no doubt sound like the lusty thoughts of a horny mind. Not like the honesty that slipped out in a vulnerable moment.

Though, he didn't have any longer than a pair of heartbeats to dwell before (Y/N) wiped any and all thoughts from his head. The glorious, wonderful, perfect heat of her mouth enveloped him once more. She sucked around him, matching the tight grip of her fist around his base.

"Fuck, fuck, (Y/N)," he chattered, surprised he hadn't ripped a hole in the fabric of the throw blanket puddled around him, "'M gonna cum, 'm sorry, 'm sorry. Y'don't hav-have to—"

Pulling off of him just enough to press her pursed lips to the tip again, (Y/N) shook her head. "I want to. It's okay, honey. Do whatever you want."

Maybe it was the vibration of her voice echoing around his length, or the sight of her pretty mouth parting for her soft tongue to lick over his head, or the encouragement that she wanted to take his cum—whatever it was, was all he needed. The bunched muscles lining his bones finally gave way, releasing him like a rubber band snapping as his hips lifted from the cushion.

He unraveled on the sofa, a warning on his lips that didn't make it in time before the first rope spurted out of him. His lungs were stunted as he watched the first dredge released over her mouth, following the line of her nose and dripping to the shape of her lips. (Y/N) closed her eyes, a soft gasp falling from her pretty, swollen, glazed lips. It was only a second before she tucked the head of his cock back between her lips, swallowing the rest of his release.

She continued the stroke of her hand, working him through the throes without lagging. Every pump of his release was swallowed down by (Y/N), the motion sending aftershocks through him. The grip she held on his thigh, with her nails digging into the skin was the only bite of clarity offered in that moment.

The world felt so small then, consisting of only he and (Y/N) and the throw blanket he was never going to complain about being balled up on the sofa ever again. There could never be anything else worthy of his attention when (Y/N) looked up at him with glossy eyes, bottom lashes clumping together. All with the traces of his cum having painted over her face.

"What the fuck?" Harry breathed out, a slight bit of delirious laughter falling from his lungs as he melted against the couch. His head fell back against the cushion, fingers cramping as he unravelled from the throw blanket.

Pulling away with a pop, (Y/N) allowed him to come down without the distraction of her touch.

"Good what the fuck? Or bad?" she breathed, letting go of his leg with one final squeeze.

"Good," Harry cemented with a nod, "So good."

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his head from where it had lolled against the cushions. Just in time to see her swiping her fingers through the mess on her face, licking his cum from her fingers.

Maybe his head was still in the clouds, the lack of oxygen having made him delirious and impulsive, but Harry didn't give a second thought before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to hers.

He could taste something salty and heady on her mouth, but he didn't care. There had been plenty of times before this that Harry wanted to kiss her, but this was the first time he couldn't find a single reason not to. He was convinced that this was the only way he could possibly show her how much he appreciated, and revered, and cared for her after she did such an act for him.

Her skin was just a touch sticky as he cradled her cheeks between his palms, their swollen lips sealed together. The very tip of his nose grazed the bridge of her own as he tipped his head just enough.

By the time his head caught up to his body, he realized she had gone stiff, mouth parted as if in the process of gasping.

A string of curses ran through his head. What was he thinking? Is he stupid? Or just so horny and touch starved, this seemed like a good idea?

Just as he made a move to pull away, (Y/N) pressed forward, kissing back. Matching his movements, she tilted her head and pursed her lips. It was Harry's turn to feel the slight gaze of her nose tracing his skin. The creases in their lips lined up perfectly, fitting together like jigsaw pieces.

Now was far from the time to confess just how many times he pictured and wondered what it would be like to kiss (Y/N), but suffice to say, the reality was galaxies better than the fantasy.

It was a short kiss, lasting only long enough for Harry to hear his heartbeat in his ears before he pulled back.

(Y/N)'s eyes were bright as she gazed up at him. "What was that for?" she whispered, voice croaky.

Harry shook his head. He could go on, listing for days, though maybe that was for another time.

"Jus' thank you."

The smile that bloomed over her mouth was sweet and sticky, glossed by saliva and a mess Harry was going to feel more guilty over once his head was clear.

"You're silly, H," she murmured, tipping her chin just enough to peck his lips, "You're welcome." With that, she stood to the full of her height, Harry's hands falling back to his sides. "I'll be right back. I'm going to clean up my face, but maybe we could have a sleepover out here tonight?"

It was the way she looked at him, like this was just another night of bonding with her best friend, that was going to make his heart both bloat and break.

Harry nodded instinctively. "That sounds like fun, (Y/N)."

She bounced in her spot with a chattery cheer before starting off to her room, promising to be back in just a moment.

He watched her bedroom door swing closed behind her, left alone in the quiet of the living room. Harry made an effort to put himself back together, underwear and pants pulled back up though he didn't bother to refasten them before he started towards his own bedroom. He needed to gather a few things for their sleepover, and that was what he was going to focus on and not the buzzing of his lips. Not the way his legs felt like jelly, his lungs rivaling the pounding of his heart.

How much of a fool was he? He was never going to be able to keep from crossing that flimsy, self-appointed line that reminded him that she was nothing more than his roommate and wasn't going to ever be anything else. That boundary was miles behind him, unable to be seen. Not anymore, at least.

Not after tonight.

—————

figs are the roman symbol of Dionysus, god of wine, and priapus, satyr of sexual desire

ahhhhh thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and I cant wait hear what everyone thinks! any fun ideas or requests pleaseeeee send them in!

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myblogisatotalmess · 2 days ago

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MILD MOANA 2 SPOILERS AHEAD

I saw Moana 2 as a Polynesian person. I thought it was INCREDIBLE. I know many people already don't really like it, but I think it's because THIS specific movie, they went harder on the Polynesian culture.

The music is even more Polynesian, and written pretty much solely by Polynesian people. The culture is even more included in it's narrative and in the details, they show more tattoos, the Kava ceremony, speaking more of the Pacific Islander native languages, even some the humor is very Polynesian humor.

I personally really enjoyed the storyline, and I liked that it introduced a "morally gray" character to help guide Moana into realizing that you have to just embrace what's given to you. It's a great representation of what the ocean is. It's sometimes not as reliable and friendly as Moana expects it to be, and has grown accustomed to. So when she asks for the ocean's help and receives no answer, she's better prepared to face it as it comes, and adapt, and embrace it.

Not only that, but in terms of Polynesian deities, there isn't just one "good" or "bad". There are complicated morally gray deities. Pele, for instance, is a goddess known for volcanoes and destruction, but she is also known as creation and rebirth. The Earth is scorched by the flames and lava to make way for new land and healthier vegetation.

The songs aren't as "memorable" to those who aren't fully embracing the culture. For me, I got chills hearing the music. It felt authentic and from the heart and soul of the Polynesian people who sang it. Sure, many outside of the culture can't "sing along" to it, but that doesn't make it inherently bad, just because it's not marketable TO YOU.

For someone who's waited forever to have representation, and grew up with Lilo and Stitch being the only one (which wasn't that much in terms of representation.) To then seeing Moana come out when I was 16, and cried then. For then Moana 2 to come out tonight, and I cried AGAIN at 24 years old. My inner child was so excited to hear and FEEL what that representation sounds like, looks like, and means.

The original Moana was tippy-toeing into Polynesian culture, where it could still be marketable so everyone could enjoy it. Because they didn't want it to flop. It feels the same as a Polynesian person having to cater to tourists who only see the Polynesian culture as something they can exploit and be entertained by.

That doesn't mean that it was bad, it was moving tides in that time, and I would take that representation over the crumbs we've had before.

But this movie? Moana 2? This was for US. This was for the Polynesian cultures. This felt like a love letter to us, as a culture, to unite and know that we have community, and to feel seen, in all of our glory, and not a watered-down version to be "marketable" to others outside of our culture.

So, I expect people to not like it. But I also expect it to be because it's coming from a place where they don't understand how it feels to experience, love, embrace, learn, and educate others about Polynesian culture.

I love my culture, and I love my Polynesian siblings as a Kanaka Hawaiian. I love my Maori, Samoan, Tahitian, Tongan, etc. siblings. I love seeing a mix of all of our cultures come together and be represented.

For those who aren't a part of our culture, truly listen to our history and our struggles and successes. Educate yourself on how to be a better ally and find cultural appreciation (not appropriation) for our culture. We are real people with real stories. Not some fictional character (or Halloween costume/party favor/etc.) you can write off and only look at as "entertainment" and can only hold value when we're catering to you. That includes our music, our language, our dances, and our stories.

That's all for now. ❤️ I'll be willing to have adult, civil, conversations with others about differences in why you didn't enjoy it as much, but hate will be deleted and blocked. ❤️

#moana 2 #moana #moana 2 spoilers #disney moana #Polynesian #disney moana 2 #Polynesian culture #pacific islander

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a1ecmcdowell · 3 days ago

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alec mcdowell & transgenic!user - a million kisses ㅤ ┊ ㅤ (18+!)

i want someone to promise me a million kisses and more . . . or, he's your first everything; first, and second, and fifth, and tenth.

includes, MDNI. ㅤ explicit sexual content ㅤ (light ) breeding kink ㅤ unprotected p in v ㅤ first times! ㅤ fluffy smut ㅤ like genuinely sickly sweet ㅤ soft dom!alec ㅤ best friend!reader ㅤ dirty talk ㅤ talks you through it creampie (hate this word sm sorrY)

req by @foxylady493 hehe thank u for giving me an excuse to write ab rawdoggin alec mcdowell HAHA

word count: 6.2k and for what like genuinely.

★ ˚⋆

somewhere, in one of the books that joshua had stolen for you, with a well worn cover and soft pages, with faded ink painting the front cardstock, you'd read something that stuck with you. i want someone to promise me a million kisses.

it was one of those passing thoughts that embeds itself into your psyche, a physical thing lodged between the folds of your brain, making itself evident every time you tried to forget it. a million kisses... and you'd never had one.

hell, you'd never even wanted to. you were everything manticore wanted you to be; loyal to the greatest extent, dedicated to your training, dominating the rest of the x5 series by a long shot — well, alongside your best friend alec.

alec, who really kept you motivated and on your toes, because he was so effortlessly good. he could sprint the entire forest on the grounds' base three times while you'd be on your second. he could pick you up with ease, and often did, urging you to work on your strength that little bit more so that you could do the same to him.

he was lifting you with one arm, actually, when you'd both been called back to your cells abruptly. it was awkward, in a way, moreso than it would have been for any normal human being, because of how unfamiliar you were with awkward situations. having to be sat down so you could properly address the guard in front of you, the same one who'd just been watching the both of you try and lift each other like barbells?

it only managed to get worse, somehow, when you were both ushered into your cell, followed by one of the directors, a woman with short blonde hair and a fierce stare.

something about this felt like a punishment, or a bad omen. how could you know, then, what a turning point this was going to be for you? the both of you?

"stand down, 494, 490." her lips are quirked with knowledge she isn't sharing, her hands folded neatly behind her back. "no need for formalities. not... for this."

you know better than to say a word out of turn, and so does alec, but you feel his confusion radiating off of him, a mirror image of your own, in the way his shoulders tense back.

her lips curl higher, a tight lipped smile that looks almost sinister in the dull lighting of your cell. "you are both aware of the situation with our labs, i imagine," she continues, slowly, like she's waiting for one of you to piece it together. "all of our genetic data, up in flames, and no way to continue creating soldiers to uphold the legacy the two of you are sure to bring."

directors do not ever come in with compliments, especially so strong, without something up their sleeves. "unless..."

it's one word, but it hits you and alec like a wave. him first, as he draws in a sharp breath, and then you, your stoic expression faltering at once. unless they use their current x5s to make those soldiers.

"it's only natural to pair you two off, what with how... close, you've gotten, over these years." there was a shared trauma that rooted the two of you to each other. him, being a clone of x5-493, and you, of 491.

something was off in their coding, a mixture of genetics and dna that didn't mesh. people were tightlipped about 493 and the seemingly endless amount of death he left in his wake, but they were sure to remind you about 491, the only one who, seemingly, kept his head screwed on straight the rare times that it was.

i want someone to promise me a million kisses... did she feel the same way? did he manage a million before his life was taken? you couldn't help but wonder it, especially with how many times the words killer kisser were thrown in your face. maybe that was why you were so attached to the idea of being kissed. you were stuck on the outside of a secret, wondering how kisses could render a troubled man's mind silent for a little while.

you had zoned out without realizing, stuck in a past that didn't belong to you. "are we clear?" the woman asks, her eyes lingering particularly long on you.

your face flushes with shame. shame for not listening, for missing the entire purpose of this conversation because you'd been daydreaming about an obscene amount of kisses for one person to receive.

alec speaks up for you, saving you from a potential reprimand or punishment, as he often did. "all clear."

"good." her eyes stay on yours for a beat too long, like she's daring you to break, before she nods once. "you've got one hour."

and with that, she stalks out of the room, the guards waiting on either side of your open door stepping out of line to trail behind her. the door hisses shut, and then it's just you and alec. you should know why. if you'd listened—

"you could have been less obvious, you know," alec says with a scoff of laughter, as he breaks his straight-backed stance and crosses to your bed in the corner. he sinks down on it, strong enough that his weight bounces on the springy mattress, legs spread open as he made himself right at home.

you blink once, twice. "less obvious with what?"

"oh, i don't know," his lips twist in mock thought, before they tilt into a dazzling smile, "starin' off like you don't even know where you are."

"i was just—"

"not listening. yeah, established, nelly." alec's eyebrows raise in his amusement, strong arms folded nearly over his chest. "you're gonna be confused as hell when i start taking my clothes off, then."

you splutter, wordless sounds falling out in a flustered heap. "what?"

his head falls back in a fit of laughter, loud enough that it echoes off of the walls. "god, you really weren't listening!"

"just spit it out! what are you talking about?"

slowly, the smile tapers away, his laughter trails off, and you're just looking at each other. "gonna have to copulate, you and i."

your expression drops. any trace of amusement dissipates, a cold, icy feeling of dread flooding your veins. no. no. you couldn't. not with him. not when it would ruin—

a million kisses, a million kisses, a million kisses.

it always came back to that, didn't it? "no," you say aloud firmly, like your rejection can somehow reverse the fact that it has to happen. has to, because you would never betray a direct order. this was something being entrusted to you. "alec..."

"relax," he says, his hands up in surrender. "i'm not gonna just... force you to, nelly, c'mon." his hands fall into his lap again, a sigh leaving his mouth. "s'not easy for me either, this. i mean, you're my best friend."

was he suggesting that things would change once this started? that thought made your blood feel cold in your veins, ice crystallizing in the sinew, making your bones feel heavy and stiff.

"nelly." alec snaps his fingers, drawing your attention back to him and not the dread in your stomach. it always works, when he calls you the name he'd not-so-affectionately given you during training, once. negative nelly & smart alec. "c'mon, it's not— it's not gonna be that bad. kinda bruisin' my ego that you're this torn up about it."

you choke on a laugh, your fingers lifting to run through your hair. "shut up, alec."

"'shut up, alec,'" he mimics back at you, one corner of his mouth lifting higher in a softer grin. "has that ever worked, nell?"

you shake your head, in exasperation and answer, finally crossing the small expanse of the room to drop down onto the edge of your bed next to him. his thigh is pressed up against yours, a warm, familiar comfort when everything feels uncertain.

it's loaded now, this silence that falls between you. heavy like a weight and thick like fog. his eyes are on you —you can feel them, too— and it's jarring, how one direct order can flip an entire world on its axis.

you turn to meet those green eyes of his, and then alec's leaning in, suddenly, and it takes a blink for you to realize it. you startle, feeling hot and icy and flustered all at once. "i’ve never done this,” you blurt out, and how fucking embarrassing is that, confessing it like a sin?

“in what world do you think i have?” alec shoots back, his eyebrows raising in punctuation to the question. “i’d rather it be with you than someone else.”

your heart is racing uncomfortably quick, an unfamiliar flutter against your ribcage. “okay.”

“yeah?” he asks, and his large hand lifts, too, to rest his warm palm on the side of your cheek. his fingertips graze behind your ear, tangling in your soft hair. “yeah, okay, nelly.”

his thumb grazes gently over your cheekbone, like a final reassurance before you’re no longer dipping your toes into this idea but diving fully into its depths. his fingers on the back of your neck guide you toward him, until your breaths are mingling and getting to know each other.

your lips meet. the world stops.

it makes sense, now, how 491 could leash 493 with nothing but the press of her lips. it also makes sense why she stayed, despite all of the warning signs he must have given off, if alec’s lips were any indicator of how ben’s were.

the kiss is tentative at best, at first. he’s not coming any closer, and you’re sat ramrod straight on the bouncy mattress, and the only thing connecting you besides your mouths is the hand he keeps on your cheek. you imagine that this is how first kisses always feel; awkward and uncertain, as this new kind of trust builds itself from the ground up.

one kiss out of a million. how were you supposed to kiss anyone else, now, when this one felt so special?

he pulls back first, but his hand stays on your face, the other sneaking its way across the space between you and landing on yours in lap.

“not so bad, was it?” alec asks, a reassuring smile gracing his face. his thumb returns the gentle strokes over your cheek, his eyes sweeping over the expression you wear.

no, it wasn’t that bad. but your mind isn’t on the kiss but what’s supposed to come next. “how long are we supposed to… um…”

you’d never been the shy type around alec, but suddenly now, it feels like every word is lodged tightly in your throat. suddenly, he feels like a stranger instead of your best friend, this territory unfamiliar and scary, in its own way.

“until you’re pregnant,” he says easily — and of course it’s easy for him, he’s not the one that has to carry a genetically enhanced baby to term. “but—”

“no,” you say, raising a hand to cut him off. “no, i heard you.”

“but, we don’t have to start now, nelly,” he slows his words down, like delivering the blow more gently will somehow lessen the sting. “we don’t. it’s… it’s an order, yes, but you’re still my best friend, and i want you comfortable.”

that did reassure you. you’d have to commit to the orders given eventually, but for now? this was just… a prolonged break in the courtyard, where you could hang out without precaution.

“kinda like this new development, though,” he adds, that wicked grin of his tugging up onto his mouth, as he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. you barely manage to squeak out the noise of surprise caught in your throat, before you’re settled in his lap. alec’s always been strong, but it’s so different, having him use that strength with you. “could get used to it.”

“shut up,” you grumble half-heartedly.

he grasps the collar of his shirt to drag you in. “order received.” and his mouth closes around yours once again; your second kiss of a million.

★ ˚⋆

“stop it, that’s not—” you huff out a hard, frustrated breath, your fingers closing around alec’s wrist. “that’s not what where your hands are supposed to go.”

alec had you sat comfortably in his lap again, after the day prior, you both learned that, despite the circumstances, it was a nice place to be. you were close enough that you could smack him if you had to, and clearly, you did.

“s’not my fault that you’re being a tease,” he grumbles in your ear, his lips so close to the sensitive skin that shivers trail down your spine. “sittin’ all pretty in my lap, not letting me follow orders.”

“oh, bite me,” you shoot back at him, your grip on alec’s wrist tightening as you yank it away from your ass. you can feel the heat of his skin even through the thick fabric of your camo cargos, and it’s completely distracting.

his free hand’s finger comes up to jab you firmly in the sternum. “you won’t let me.”

“i thought this was hard for you, too,” you argue, reaching up to grab his other hand now, the former still tightly in between your fingers. you knew the second you let it go, he’d not-so-subtly slide it right back down to your ass all over again, and where would you be? a rock — you — a hard place.

alec snatches his hand back quickly before you can grab that one, his eyebrows bouncing once in his amusement. “trust me, nelly, it’s very hard.”

you stare at him, unblinking for a long few seconds, before it clicks in your mind — and the feel of what was very hard presses against the core of you. your hand releases his, and you smack him once with the left, twice with the right. “alec!”

alec cackles, head falling back with his laughter. his hand, always so much quicker than you, catches one wrist, and then the other, in his lithe fingers. his other arm snakes around your waist and there’s a blink before you’re suddenly flipped on your back.

on your back, and he’s hovered above you, your pinned wrist firmly above your head and pressed lightly into the mattress. “you’re getting soft on me,” he pants, settled in between your legs, knees nudging them further apart. “you used to beat my ass when we’d spar.”

“you’re playing dirty.”

“am not,” he huffs out like a petulant child, “you’re just not playing. too worried up in that head about all of the logistics here.”

“aren’t you?” you ask him, and it’s genuine; how had 24 hours passed, and suddenly this was something he could just accept? you and him, engaging in things that best friends didn’t do. did they? “aren’t you afraid of…” your face reddens, your turn now to feel like a little kid. “doing it?”

alec’s shoulders lift. “not when it’s with you.”

he says it so genuinely that you know it’s true, the confidence of the words enough to take your breath away.

you’d never thought of it like that. sure, it’s intimidating, breaching this gap of things you’d done and things you hadn’t, but… with him, surely it couldn’t be anywhere near as bad as you were thinking.

“plus,” he adds as an afterthought, “we already agreed it wasn’t going to change a thing, didn’t we? s’just work.”

just work. it didn’t feel like just work, but you were always reading too much into things, anyways. that’s why you and alec just worked. he was the laidback to your on edge.

you sigh. he’s getting to you. he’s unnaturally good at reading all of your fears written in your eyes and unpacking each of them, explaining them to you so they weren’t so scary anymore. “just tell me what to do. we can lie to the directors again, if we have to, if you just wanna… i dunno, chill out. could kiss again.”

“alec.”

“suggestion!” he raises his free hand in defense, before he lets it drop down to your thigh. “just a suggestion.”

it was a good suggestion, too. unfortunately for you, fortunately for him. you didn’t want to get too comfortable in these uncharted territories, out of fear it’d all get muddled and then where would you be? too uncomfortable to be friends, too familiar not to be.

“kiss me.” your mouth moves before you’ve even realized the words are out, floating between the two of you like a declaration.

he moves his hand from your wrists and lets it fall in the open expanse of your neck. his fingers are cold this time, even though your blood is hot. “yeah?” it feels achingly familiar to the gentle way he’d said it the day prior. “alright.”

“alright.”

is it supposed to be this awkward? firsts were always awkward. this had to be normal. if you started to think about how maybe it wasn’t normal, and you were embarrassing yourself, and he was embarrassing himself, and everything was about to be ruined, you’d—

alec leans in again, but he doesn’t kiss you on the lips, like you expected. instead, his mouth finds your jaw, teeth grazing the skin lightly, lips pressing reverently on the bone as he sucks the little mouthful of skin between them.

you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, eyelashes as soft as butterfly wings on your cheekbone. “relax,” he breathes, hot breath on hot skin making you squirm beneath him, “i know what i’m doin’.”

“oh, do you?” you smile, a bit dazed as his tongue traces along the line of your jaw until he reaches the space beneath your ear.

“mhm.” he leaves a trail of wet, warm kisses down the side of your neck, then back up your throat. “thought about this all night. know what i’m doin’.”

oh. no wonder he’d been pretty accepting of their circumstances. alec spent all of night prior thinking about you, and how he’d pick you apart.

the thought makes another shiver run down your spine, a warm pool in your lower stomach. “alec—”

“here,” he interrupts, halting your train of thought before it delves again. “put your hand here,” he pants softly into your sensitive skin, his fingers finding yours and guiding them underneath the gray fabric of his shirt. you feel every muscle on his abdomen, feel each flex beneath the cold touch of your fingers. “yeah, that’s it.”

alec straightens up a little so that he can curl his own hands beneath his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. it falls in a heap at his feet, and he’s on you again a second later, his lips marking a wet trail of kisses up your throat. once he reaches your chin, he continues the onslaught, capturing your lips in a firm kiss.

this one is different than the one the night prior. it’s more confident, sure of himself. his tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and in your surprised gasp, he tucks it between your lips. that part of the kiss is tentative, like enacting the things he’d thought about was more nerve wracking than he’d let on.

you smile. he drags his teeth across your puffed bottom lip. “oh, you like that?” he asks against the soft skin of your mouth, arrogance coating every one of his words. “mm, okay.”

his hands run down your sides, hooking beneath your shirt and bunching it up in his fists. “this okay?” he asks, lifting his head enough to search your eyes.

you nod, taken aback, almost, by the flood of black overtaking his irises. “it’s okay.”

his grin is mesmerizing. had he always been so attractive? had he always looked like something sculpted and molded, just for you, and you’d only just noticed? “okay,” he echoes, and he nudges your extended arm with his elbow, “lift your arms for me.”

neither of you really know what you’re doing, but he has a little bit of an upperhand, what with the fantasies he’d created in his head.

“what all did you think about?” you ask him, tracing your eyes over his face to keep from thinking about how he was undressing you, and you were slowly being beared to him fully.

alec’s eyebrows twitch, his eyes lifting from your bare skin up to yours again. “last night?”

“yeah. i wanna know.”

he shakes his head. “no, nelly,” he laughs under his breath, his heavy-lidded eyes raking over your body again. “m’not lettin’ you know. you’re shakin’ in your boots already.”

“well, then what did you do? just lay in bed, thinkin’ about me?” you shoot back, your mouth dropping into a pout at the denial.

alec’s lips quirk. “something like that.”

“alec—” you’re cut off by his lips pressing to yours again. his fingers run reverently down your chest, his touch shuddery as they graze over your breasts. he groans, and the air in your lungs stutters hard in your chest. every thought is shattering to pieces before you can think them, focused instead on the feel of his hands on you in places that you didn’t think anyone would ever touch.

“i know you’re scared,” he mumbles in your mouth, his hand drifting lower, slowly but steadier than before. “so i want you in control. in case—” his touch comes to a stop at the buttons on your camo cargos. alec pauses like he’s dazed, clearing his throat. “in case you want to stop. at any point.”

he’s such an arrogant dickhead most of the time, one that you’ve come to adore in every possible way, but here? now? he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met.

“here, lift your hips for me,” his nimble fingers have already undone the button, before you’d even blinked, “good girl — see? m’so proud of you, baby.”

baby. he’d never called you baby before. your smile is immediate, even as you feel like you’re being electrocuted with how your skin is buzzing. his knuckles light a fire down you as they brush lightly against your thighs, your calves.

your hand lifts to rest under his chin, tilting his head up to look at you again. how many kisses is this now? you can’t even think, now, not as you drag him in for another kiss. five? six? not enough, is the simple answer.

alec entertains the kiss for a few seconds before he’s pulling back, even taking a step away. your body chills at the loss of his heat, and the self awareness of how you must look to him. mostly naked, sprawled backwards on your bed, looking up at him with big, wide eyes. you open your mouth to say something snarky to him, anything to quell the heavy silence, when he whispers, “you’re so damn beautiful, nelly.”

he undoes the buttons on his pants quickly, shoving them down his muscular thighs and pooling at his ankles. it’s intimidating, staring into the eyes of someone who was your best friend through and through, while neither of you are wearing anything besides undergarments.

this was the guy who’d talked you out of making any rash decisions after you’d had the insult of killer kisser thrown in your face, all because of the girl your dna was cloned from. who squeezed your hands and told you to fuckin’ ignore them. what do they know? who’d been a cell apart from you in your psyops isolation, making sure he wasn’t infected with whatever rotted ben’s mind into darkness, and you weren’t susceptible to falling into hi

alec steps around you to sink onto the mattress beside you, shifting backwards until his back hits the concrete wall, turning so that he’s facing straight forward. his hands pat his thighs, nodding his head in gesture — or maybe to get you to stop ogling him like he was someone new and not your alec.

“lookin’ at me like you don’t know me,” he mumbles, reaching out to snatch your elbow when you don’t move. it’s intimidating. sitting in his lap with so little separating the two of you? of course you were hesitating! “don’t be ridiculous. m’still the guy you pushed down the stairs five years ago.”

“that,” you exhale shakily, as you sit down on his thighs, desperately trying to ignore the heat beneath you, and the heat between your legs, “was an accident.”

“bull.” he moves his hands to the clasps of your bra, undoing each hook individually, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “i saw how you looked at me before you did it.”

you bristle, shoving him back by the shoulder until his back presses against the cool concrete. “like i’m looking at you now?”

slowly, he tugs the straps of your bra down your arms, his grin faltering as his eyes drift downward at the same time. “yeah.” he clears his throat. clears it again. “yeah, like you’re lookin’ at me now.”

your eyes follow his, and you suck in a slow, deep breath. somehow, the fucker had talked his way into taking your bra off without you even noticing. kept you distracted long enough to not fuss over it.

how many kisses out of a million could one man give? you hoped all of them. you hoped more than a million.

the silence is heavy but it’s less awkward now. most of the hard parts were over, and you’d already established there was no reason to be nervous, not with alec. never with alec.

“here,” he says, his voice still coming out rasped even through his attempts otherwise to quell it. “hips up again f’me… yeah, just like that.” alec’s fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down until they’re caught where you’re straddling him. “left leg up… perfect, baby, right one… perfect, baby. absolutely perfect.”

the praise makes you feel hot. sure, he’d said things like this before, praising each of your actions when you’d done good at training, or came back from a mission successful. this is different. intimate.

"keep 'em up real quick, alright?" he murmurs, shifting beneath you enough to lift his own hips up, hands pulling down his boxers over his thighs. his hand slips, giving way to the nervousness he had buried deep, as it slaps against your bare thigh. "my bad," he chuckles lowly, kicking them off with the foot closest to the bed's edge. his fingers curl around your leg, kneading at the soft flesh. "you've got me all messed up in my head."

"enough to hit me?" you tease, your smile returning again to your lips. "that's cruel, alec. you said you weren't playing dirty."

"m'not," alec insists, his thumb catching your chin and dragging you down into a kiss, and then another.

you laugh on his lips, trying to shake free from his grip. "are too."

he sits up, chasing your mouth when you start to pull away, swallowing your lips in an onslaught of kisses. "i can show you 'playing dirty'." his hands slide down your sides, fingers brushing your ass as they firmly grasp your thighs, flipping the both of you so that your back is against the mattress.

you're strong enough to flip him back. to tackle him onto the mattress, to wrestle like you used to do when you were younger, and things were easier. you don't.

alec settles between your legs, using his hold on your thighs to lift your hips and align your entrance with the cock you have not looked at, nope, it feels too real to—

your eyes fall anyways when his do, watching him line himself up. all of his nervousness is gone again, like he teeters between it, only ever seeming to get nervous when it comes to addressing you. what you are. what this means.

“still okay?” at your nod, he nods too. “okay, sweet girl. let me just—” his hand comes between the both of you, grasping his cock between his fingers, as he pushes the thick head of it inside of you, his head falling back as your wetness coats it. “jeeeesus.”

“what?” you ask breathlessly, shifting to rest on your palms, glancing from his face to where he’s pulling out of you.

alec shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. “nothing. nothing at all.” he pushes in again, slowly, deliberately, this time keeping his cock inside of your tight walls. “just thinking about you. always thinking about you.” his free hand goes to your shoulder, pushing you lightly back on the bed. “you just lay back and relax, alright? get out of that head.”

how were you supposed to get out of your head when now, the thing circling around in it is how he so casually declared that he was always—

it’s uncomfortable, as he fills you up. like something is wrong, doesn’t belong. you were definitely wet enough to take him, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of something being off that tingles up your spine.

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he groans, his voice as rough as gravel. alec rubs soothing circles into your skin with his thumb, before he lets his hand fall down to one of yours, grasping it in his. “squeeze if you wanna stop.”

even through the discomfort, you didn’t want to stop. not only had the gap already been bridged, but… you liked it. liked him. more than you ever would have realized on your own. the further he pushes into you, still in that achingly slow pace as he lets your pussy adjust to the feel of him inside of it, the easier that adjustment gets.

your fingers play with his, tracing over his knuckles, as your breaths tumble out in soft little pants. everything feels like its at a boiling point, like it’s seconds from spilling over.

“you asked why i wasn’t scared,” he says under his breath suddenly, eyes lifting to meet yours through the deep dark of his eyelashes, once he’s to the hilt deep inside of you, his pelvis pressed to yours in a sharing of blistering hot skin. “do you want to know why?”

he finishes the sentence, and slowly pulls back until his cock rests halfway inside of your throbbing pussy. the movement makes you whimper in your throat, the sound of it rough already. his fingers clamp around yours in reassurance. “i’ve thought about this a lot. that’s why.”

“liar,” you manage to rasp, a breathless moan of laughter punctuating the words, “y’don’t have to make me feel better anymore. i’m not scared.”

“i always,” alec thrusts into you again, quicker this time, already pulling back out, keeping that slow, leisurely pace until he’s absolutely certain you’re alright with the next part of it all, “always want to make you feel better.”

another thrust in, and something shifts this time. you can feel every inch, and suddenly, a tremor of ecstasy replaces the full discomfort. you gasp, and he surges forward to hover over you properly now, like that one little noise was enough reassurance for him.

“always want to take care of you, always want to make sure you’re happy,” alec continues, soft grunts slipping between his ramblings, “hell, i’ve thought about putting a baby in you before. just not… in this setting.”

the words shoot straight downwards, making your already aching pussy throb, clenching tightly around him. “i’m not gonna break, alec,” you say, forehead pressed to his. you dig your nails into the back of his hand, not squeezing it so he doesn’t stop, but urging him further. “stop acting like you’re gonna snap me in half. i’ve pushed you down the stairs before.”

alec laughs, but it works. he pulls out further with each thrust, slams into you harder, burying himself deeply inside of your wet pussy. “yeah, you have.” the sound of skin slapping together starts to echo around the room with the change in his pace, interrupted only by his throaty groans and your soft moans and, god, isn’t it awkward that there are guards outside? that this is what they’re subjected to hear every day, until you’re—

“you wanted— a baby with me,” you say, not as a question, and through the deep haze your mind is slipping into.

“wanted to do this. wanted to fuck a baby into you. see you full of me,” he answers, and it must get him going, the image he paints for the both of you, because he speeds up further, drives deeper, and you can feel the head of his cock pushing against your cervix, making you groan aloud into his skin. “only at night, when it was just me, and i wished you were there, keeping me company. any time else, i could pretend like it was fine.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head, and then he’s laughing too. “fucked up, schoolboy-manticore crush, huh?” his head falls further into the crook of your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your collarbone. “only this place could get me daydreaming about filling this pussy up with my cum. could get me - wanting to fuck up our whole friendship, just to hear those pretty sounds of yours.”

your face flushes at the filthy words, even as it only stirs your arousal further along. you can feel it in the base of your spine, and suddenly, by their own volition, your hips are pressing against his in tandem, meeting each of his thrusts inside of you. he groans, the sound hot and vibrating on the sensitive skin of your neck.

“look at me, will ya, pretty thing?” he asks, nose nudging your chin up to meet his eyes. blackened pupils swallow up the jade green of his eyes. your lips part as the pleasure builds and builds, each of your noises crescendoing in pace with alec’s relentless thrusts. “god, nelly—”

you tip your head up a little more, enough to catch his mouth in a warm kiss. “it’s okay,” you say against the soft pink of his lips; your turn to comfort him, even if that’s the last thing he probably needs.

“yeah,” he mumbles on your mouth, stealing a fervent amount of quick kisses. it might as well be a million right then, with the way you can’t clear your head enough to count.”s’all okay. more than okay. always okay with you.”

“you don’t even know—” you choke out, interrupted by the desperate moans falling from your lips, free hand coming to hold onto his side and keep him deep, deep, deep. “don’t even know what you’re saying,” you manage to laugh.

“no,” alec laughs too, letting go of your hand and moving it and his other one to hold onto your thighs again. “no i don’t. lift this one up for me, yeah?”

you uncurl your bent knee and rest it across the length of his body, and the new angle only makes it that much more intense. “m’not gonna last much longer.”

alec is a nervous laugher. he can’t seem to stop while he thrusts into you. your defense mechanism is panic, his is undiluted joy. you hope it never changes about him. “thank fuck.” he turns his head to press a soft kiss to your ankle. “‘ve been hanging on by a fuckin’ thread.”

“seriously?” you cackle. “alec.”

it’s sweet, really, how even when your entire dynamic flipped on its head, neither of you changed. just like you’d promised. you’re still laughing in the heat of the moment together, still teasing each other in every possible way you could. “told you ‘ve been thinkin’ about this,” he grumbles in his defense, the little pout on his flushed face only pulling you closer and closer into your release’s tight grips, “can’t even blame m—”

“oh, fuck—” you can’t blame him, because you never gave him the time to pitch his argument fully, cutting him off. each breath you draw in is strained, in time with the pounding he’s giving to your clenching pussy. “oh, fuck, alec—”

“hey, language, pretty thing, there’s—” one last thrust, harder than the others, his hips stuttering their movements as he pushes out a shaky exhale into your shoulder. your head falls back into the mattress, dug into the springs as you buck into him, his cock against your cervix as he spills his cum inside of you. the feel of him twitching inside of you, of the warmth seeping from your fluttering walls and warm down your spread legs, reducing you to a muddled mess of pleasure in his arms. unintelligible words on your tongue, pleads or his name or something, you don’t even know, don’t even know what you were trying to say.

alec brushes his fingers across your forehead, pushing the sweaty hairs off of your skin. “was gonna tell you to watch your mouth, but i’m pretty sure you just swore me up and down in three different languages at once.”

your limbs feel boneless, but you do manage to swat at his bare chest, heated skin on heated skin. “shut up.”

“nah.” he scoops you into his arms, not yet having pulled out of you, as he cradles you to his chest. “we’re just gettin’ started, aren’t we?”

the answer is that one man can give a million kisses, and it doesn't take a lifetime — just a director's order and a dream.

tags, @jasvtsc @deanswidow @ostaramoon @angelblqde @depressionbarbie2023

@poughkeepsie99 @chi-raz @beausling @artyandink @figthoughts

#──★ ˙🍓 dahlia’s jrnl #divider by adornedwithlight #dark angel #alec mcdowell #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles smut #young jensen ackles #dark angel imagine #dark angel one shot #dark angel fic #alec mcdowell imagine #alec mcdowell one shot #alec mcdowell smut #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x you

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superbsupper · 3 days ago

Text

Peek-a-Boo— When Satoru gets caught being nosy, it ends better than he’d hoped.

Suguru x Reader, Satoru x Reader, Satoru x Suguru || Genre: Smut, Fluff at the end || Warnings: Voyeurism, Pantie stealing, Pantie sniffing, Degradation, Oral (m receiving), 3some, Mating press, Hair pulling (f and m receiving), Praise, Unprotected sex (P in V), Spit roasting, Nipple play (m receiving) Over stimulation || WC: 3,184

You were so pretty to Satoru. No matter how much he tried to hate you for, quote, “stealing his friend” he always felt this ache for you.

Did he want to date you? Hell no. He’d rather eat glass and roll around in a pile of used needles. Did he want to fuck you? Hear you moan and whine for him the same way he heard you moan and whine for his best friend? Maybe, but any sane person would.

Satoru had started picking up some bad habits ever since you moved in with him and Suguru. He would be nosy— listening to your conversations, look over your guys’ shoulders, peek at your screens when he didn’t think either of you would notice.

They were small things at first. He was curious, he couldn’t help that he wanted to know what was going on. But his curiosity was starting to turn into something else. He wanted to know more. He wanted to be apart of everything.

That included more.. intimate things.

Every time Satoru did laundry he couldn’t help himself from snatching a pair of your panties from the laundry basket.

It didn’t matter if they were clean or dirty; he’d stuff them in his pocket and when he was sure he was home alone, he’d beat his cock with your panties on his nose, inhaling the scent like it was his last source of air.

His tip red and leaking, his hand moving at a fast pace while he arched his back off of the bed, chants of ‘pleasepleasepleaseplease’ coming from his lips quietly, begging himself for relief.

Every time without fail, Satoru would cum in your panties. He made sure to smear his tip all over the gusset, making sure it was soaked. He would clean himself up with them, then throw them into your laundry, burying them a bit so you wouldn’t find the nasty mess he left.

Satoru couldn’t help listening in sometimes. Whether it was the loud conversations you’d have on the phone or the loud sex you and Suguru had.

The walls were thin and every day Satoru thanked whatever being above for that. His bed was pressed against the wall closest to Sugurus wall, and almost every night Satoru got his own show.

Sure, he couldn’t see it (yet), but he sure could hear it. From what he had heard and how chipper you seemed in the mornings, Suguru was dicking you down good.

“S-Suguru! Suguru ‘s too much!” Your words were slurred and whiny, your moans coming out with every loud slapping plunge of Sugurus hips that Satoru could hear from the other side of the wall.

“Cmon.. you can take it pretty.. you’re gonna take it like the good slut you are, yeah?” Sugurus words were so cocky and mean, just as mean as his thrust sounded.

And Satoru couldn’t help but try to match the little ‘plap plap plap’s from the other side of the wall while stroking his length.

Moving his hand in sync with Suguru, biting his lip to muffle any of his whimpers. Satoru couldn’t help but squeeze his hand a bit tighter, imagining it was your tight pussy rather than his hand.

It was like torture to Satoru. Only being able to hear how well Suguru blows your back out, when he wanted to at least sneak a little peek.

This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. He could at least have asked. How would he even ask his friend for something like this thought? “Hey if it’s cool with you can I sit in your closet and jerk off while I watch you and your girlfriend, who I hate, fuck?”

Which was exactly what Satoru was doing.

His thumb rubbed the slit of his tip, Satoru huffing quietly with a flushed face. He tried to hold in his moans, seeing how far Suguru could bend you back was better than imagined.

Suguru had you in a mating press— knees to your chest being held by his big hands, his hips gyrating as he panted above you. “Such a good slut.. you love when I make you dumb on this dick, don’t you?”

And all you could do in reply was nod, babbling and moaning about how he’s ’too big’ and how it’s ’too much’, your little whines only egging Suguru on.

He loved seeing you like this. Whining and whimpering under him, hiccuping all dumb with your legs shaking and your juices leaking on the bed.

Satoru thought he was in the clear. No one noticed him. He got into the closet before you and Suguru even got home. He’s fine, as long as he’s quiet and—

“Satoru.. come on, why don’t you get a closer look…?”

His heart drops and he haunts his movements, everything going quiet except for the sound of your panting and moaning.

Maybe he could just pretend he didn’t hear him. Suguru didn’t really know he was in here, did he? He’s just messing around. Maybe Sugurus trying to mess with you.

“…Satoru…”

Only when Satoru hears you whine his name, your head lolling off the edge of the bed with a fucked out expression, does Satoru breathe.

Eventually you and Suguru hear shuffling, a flustered shirtless Satoru, very obviously hard in his sweats. He seemed a little out of breath, the blush you could see on his face spread to his neck and chest.

“So you’re just gonna watch us in my closet like some dirty pervert?” Sugurus words were quick to come out, a snarky look on his face. He was always a little playful and sarcastic, but Suguru was never this mean.

You were still laid down, a sheen of sweat on your shaky body. The room was dim but the light from the side table illuminated your features with a warm soft glow.

“I asked you something.” His voice is more firm this time, pulling out of you, cooing internally at the little whine you let out at the loss of contact.

All Satoru can do is swallow thickly and shift uncomfortably, trying to adjust him self subtly under his friends intense gaze. Satoru clears his throat and tries answering with a shameful expression, one that a disobedient dog would have.

“…Well.. I—“ He’s interrupted by a laugh, Suguru pressing a quick kiss to the side of your face and sitting you up, grabbing your jaw and squishing your cheeks together.

The look on your face was lewd, how flushed and out of breath you seemed, your bare body still quivering from the way Suguru had worked you out.

“You wanna try?” Both yours and Sugurus heads tilt, his hand holding your face guiding you before he taps your cheek and you open your mouth. “You can test out her mouth if you want to.”

This wasn’t real. Satoru was dreaming. He had to be.

No way in a thousand years would Suguru share you with anyone. But Satoru wasn’t just anyone to Suguru, they both knew that. You knew that.

The atmosphere was thick and the room was quiet. Even though Satoru was a bit surprised, his arousal was getting to him. “…Are… you serious…?”

A smile and soft huff of laughter escaped Sugurus lips. “Yeah, we’re serious. Aren’t we baby?” And you simply nod in reply, your hooded eyes stuck to his wide blue ones.

There’s hesitation from Satoru. Both of you were so willing. There was no way you guys hadn’t either talked about this before or knew about Satorus dirty habits.

His mind reeled with embarrassment at the thought of you two knowing what he was doing. Did you know about him using your panties? What about him listening?

There was no way. He had been sneaky and neither of you ever said anything or acted like you knew—

“You’re not good at hiding things…” your slightly hoarse voice breaks the silence, Sugurus hand moving down to your neck. He didn’t apply any pressure, just holding it gently.

Heat floods Satoru, a mix of arousal and embarrassed when he realizes what you meant. The flush he had before spreading like a wildfire on his skin.

His wide eyes finally blink and he clears his throat, a little pout forming on his lips before he some under his breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Both you and suguru give each other looks before you get up, both of their eyes following you, before you start to dig through your side table.

It feels like Satoru got punched in the face when you pulled out what must have been 10 pairs of panties. Each pair having large stains that could have only been his cum.

“Not very sneaky, Satoru.” The smile on Sugurus face was a bit smug, almost taunting.

“I’m.. not mad…” You shrug and sit back on the bed, looking up at Satoru, legs crossed to keep yourself somewhat modest.

Satoru can only stare. He couldn’t stop thinking this was a dream. That this wasn’t real. He couldn’t tell if this was a fantasy or a nightmare.

He hadn’t even noticed Suguru getting up and moving behind him, his hands grabbing Satorus shoulders, giving them a little shake.

The hands on his shoulders were warm, one of them creeping up to his chin and taking a hold of it between his thumb and fore finger, directing Satoru to face Suguru.

Before Satoru can do anything his lips are pressed to Sugurus, his eyes widening and a gasp escaping his lips.

They were familiar with each other, experimenting was normal for them. But it felt entirely different with you sitting on the bed watching, your eyes focused directly on their connected lips.

A moan escapes Satoru when Sugurus hands move to Satorus perked nipples, giving them a gently pinch and soothing rubs.

Their tongues meet, lips parted and pressed together, Suguru grinding into Satoru from behind while playing with Satorus nipples.

They only separate when Suguru nips at Satorus bottom lip, pinching his nipples playfully before directing his gaze to you.

“Just gonna watch?” Suguru teases lightly with a smile before you stand up, walking over and putting your hands on Satorus waist band.

Satoru gives a little nod, a silent sign of permission as you start to pull down his sweats, his hard cock slapping his stomach when finally freed.

Pre-cum leaked from his flushed tip, twitching when you wrap your soft hand around his cock, pumping it slowly while Suguru continued to play with Satorus nipples.

“Satoru…” Sugurus whisper against the shell of Satorus ear caused him to shiver, more pre spilling and lubricating your slow moving hand.

All he can do is whimper, his nipples being tweaked and his dick being stroked at a leisurely pace.

Your hair is grabbed gently by Suguru, both of you silently communicating. Satoru looks down at you as you sink down to your knees, your hair held back out of your face.

Satorus eyes squeeze shut when your soft lips wrap around him, your tongue massaging the slit of his tip, tasting the bitter sweet syrup spilling from him.

“Open your eyes. If you can watch me dick her you can watch her suck you off.” Satorus nipple is pinched a bit harder, causing his eyes to fall back onto you.

It was a lewd sight. You were looking directly up a him with half his cock halfway down your throat, your face flushed and your hair out of your face.

When he moves his gaze just a little further down he sees your fingers stuffed in your pussy, moving in tandem with the movements of your head.

Sugurus gaze matches Satorus, his grip on your hair tightening as he pulls you off of Satoru. “You’re being a whore. You want both our cocks? Want us to stuff your holes?”

Heat pools between your thighs, nodding before speaking in a quiet tone. “Please..”

A smug look comes to Sugurus face, letting go of your hair and taking his hand off of Satorus nipples, grabbing his jaw instead.

“Ask him, not me.”

Your gaze goes to Satoru instead, pressing your cheek gently against his hard dick and nuzzling it gently. “Satoru.. please… want you to stuff me with Suguru…”

Who is he to say no.

Satoru stands at the end of the bed, Suguru behind you and rubbing himself between your folds, catching you clit with his tip a couple of times.

The way you would flinch made Suguru him with satisfaction, his hand grabbing the back of your hair. “Go on, suck it…”

When your mouth opens and takes Satoru once again, Suguru starts to push in to you.

You moan around Satoru, who gently starts to take over holding your hair back, pushing your head down a bit further until your nose is touching the little tuff of hair on his lower stomach.

Both of the men bottom out, Suguru starting to set a rhythm, holding your hips up against him.

Each thrust caused you to take Satoru deeper down your throat, the deeper he went down your throat the tighter it felt.

“Is this what you were hoping for?” Suguru looks to his friend, huffing as he started to pick up his pace. “You wanted to try and get a taste?”

Satoru groans, your tight throat and Sugurus words were getting to him. Everything happening right now was making him feel a bit dizzy, his face hot and his eyes lidded.

One of your hands grips Satorus thigh, breathing heavily through your nose and moaning when both of them speed up.

“Y-you’re so lucky. Both of you—“ Satoru cuts himself off, his abs flexing for a moment as he tries to hold himself back.

He speaks between pants, his brows furrowed while looking at you swallowing everything he was giving. “You get to spend time with him, feels like I never see him anymore. But— god I understand him. Your mouth is so hot..”

Moans escape your throat at his words, Satoru pulling you off for a moment to hold himself back, letting you catch your breath a bit.

But that’s cut short when Suguru starts to fuck you harder, his grip on your hips bruising, the force of his thrust recoiling.

“Such a good girl.. taking 2 cocks at once..” Suguru coos, before he grins up at Satoru, his tone becoming a bit mocking. “What? Is her mouth too much for you?”

That makes Satorus competitive nature flare up, pushing back into your mouth with a little whimper he prayed neither of you heard.

“S-shut up.. don’t act like you aren’t whipped for her.” Satorus tone was a bit sharper, his brows furrowed as he tried to match Sugurus pace.

Your jaw ached and you couldn’t help but clench down on Suguru, sucking them in from both ends.

The pleasure was starting to get to Satoru despite his need to prove himself. His resolve was faltering the same way his thrusts were.

“Shit! D-don’t tighten your throat like that…” Satoru furrowed his brows, tugging your hair a bit and making you whine softly.

Suguru was keeping up his facade, but he was starting to lose it just the same as Satoru. The sight of you and Satoru both losing yourselves to pleasure was driving him crazy.

He wondered if this would happen again, if he could have both of you like this more often. He knew both of you loved him. And both of you seemed okay with this right now, but about in the morning.. neither of you would regret it, would you?

His thoughts were interrupted when he caught Satorus gaze dropping to you, pants and moans falling from his open mouth.

You weren’t any better, eyes rolled back and your toes curled. Suguru could feel you clamping down on him, Satoru could feel your choked moans and whines.

It was a sight to behold, Suguru felt himself starting to falter, his hips snapping a bit faster into you.

“Look at me, Toru.” The whines that had been escaping Satoru got louder when his head was tugged back by his hair.

One of Sugurus hands held tight onto your soft hip, the other hand keeping Satoru from looking away.

It was a pretty sight to Suguru; rarely did he get to see his friend in such a vulnerable position. His face flushed and sweaty, his expression was dirty and fucked out.

“I know you wanna cum.. don’t worry, she’ll swallow all the— Fuck… M-mess..” Suguru was starting to falter himself.

His rhythm was getting as sloppy as Satorus, my brows furrowed and the smile that was on his face now gone.

The back of Satorus neck is grabbed by Suguru, both of them kissing while sloppily thrusting into your holes, both chasing the highs they had been working so hard for.

You were getting close yourself, you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. The heat in your belly was getting hotter and hotter, the need to release it was getting to be too much.

Suguru let’s go if your hip to rub messy frantic circles into your clit, pushing you over the edge into your peak.

The vibrations from your moans cause Satorus hips to stutter then go still, his balls tightening as he shoots cum down your throat, his jaw going slack and a loud whine escaping mouth.

A breathy laugh escapes Suguru, his movements turning quick and frantic. “God you two are so desperate— That’s it, keep squeezing me like that baby..”

Despite you being overstimulated you nod and take it, back arched as Suguru slammed his hips into you, your ass bouncing back onto his pelvis.

Suguru chokes on his own spit, losing his cool and faltering when Satorus lips connect to his nipple, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud.

He throws his head back, shooting his load into you, groaning and slowing down with a tight grip on your hips.

Pants fill the room, all of you trying to catch your breath from everything that had just happened.

They both pull out if you, Satoru laying next to you, his head on your chest, both of you too tired to bicker or push eachother off.

There’s a soft kiss placed on your cheek, Suguru going to the bathroom and coming back with a towel for you and Satoru.

He cleans you both up a bit, before laying down and cuddling up to you under the blanket. “You two did so good.. such a good job satisfying me and each other…”

Both of you were already fast asleep, leaving Suguru to look at you and Satoru cuddled up together.

Usually you two would bicker with each other. Suguru was well aware of how jealous Satoru could get because of you.

But seeing the both of you snuggling with eachother, looking at peace, it made his heart warm.

He kisses Satorus forehead and your cheek, before he gets comfortable under the blanket with the both, falling asleep with a feeling of satisfaction and content.

AN: First time writing smut and I didn’t know how to end it 😭 I went a little overboard so it’s kinda long

#jjk x you #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x gojo #geto x you #gojo x you #satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk suguru #suguru smut

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marveling-cg · 21 hours ago

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None of the Straw Hats do extended conversations about the obvious things like their love for each other or the lengths they'll go to in order to see Luffy crowned and the others' dreams fulfilled. Probably a product of their captain laughing off all their sentimentality and their first mate grunting it away before they both run off to bodily stand between their crew and certain death like "nothing happened."

But in the aftermath of two years apart and the realities of the way the New World has a way of splitting them apart and making them work to find their way back together, they've all gotten a little better at making sure the necessary things are said while there's time to do it.

So I imagine each of them finding a moment in the quiet days after Kaido is dealt with and before they head into the stormiest waters surrounding Egghead to each take a private moment with Jimbei. It's nothing planned, and probably they'd all be surprised to realize everyone else had done the same. But each of them take a moment to thank Jimbei for being the Straw Hat on duty when none of them could be, for seeing Luffy safely home to them all.

Robin and Brook might be the only two to see the pattern, might be the only two to catch him blink away unexpected tears at the rare onslaught of sincerity from the entirety of his new crew -- including their taciturn first mate.

"I've been a part of my fair share of crews, but none have felt quite like this since the first."

"So PTSD, huh?"

#roronoa zoro #one piece jinbe #lovely #one piece #fanart #my headcanon

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littleslaywrites · 2 days ago

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dixieland delight | professor!spencer reid x student!reader

summary: spencer reid is your professor, and you find out he’s never been to a football game. you take him to the last game of your senior year. (in honor of going to my first iron bowl tomorrow. roll tide beat auburn.)

word count: 2.3k

cw: f!reader, fluff, minor age gap (reader is 21, spencer is about 15 years older), possibly niche references to bama gameday traditions, excuse to write fanfic of bama winning since we can’t do that irl this season apparently

As Spencer Reid’s student, you spent a good amount of your time visiting during his office hours. In fact, that’s how you got close enough to him that he asked you to become his girlfriend about six months ago. It was his first year teaching, and your final year in college. You assumed, considering that football was a prominent part of the campus culture, that he had been to at least one game this season. Therefore, it came as a surprise to you when he revealed that he had never been to any college football games. Something about him being a little too young and far too nerdy to enjoy the environment.

You had made it your mission for the past two months to convince him to come with you to just one game. He was resistant at first, but eventually you convinced him to attend the last game of the season. Your selling point was that it would be a great way to observe the minds of college students. A weak argument, sure, but he secretly wanted to spend time with you. It was the school’s big rivalry game, and he felt that he should experience it just once. He thought of it as an opportunity to do something he could never enjoy when he was younger, and if he could go with you, that would make it even better.

The week before the game, you made sure to prepare him for the traditions. First and foremost, you went to the store on campus and got him a polo with the team logo. He had to wear something nice to match you, but he couldn’t wear a suit and tie, or he’d end up looking like a pledge. You gave it to him in a gift bag with tulle, along with a shaker in the team colors. When you presented it to him, he was grateful for the gift, but not too thrilled about the outfit. You eventually convinced him to wear it, saying that he’d stick out in his usual outfit. You couldn’t convince him to forgo the mismatched socks, though. Next, you sent him all the chants and songs he would need to learn, Dixieland Delight being the most important. His reply was something about chants being passed down to each generation and popular culture transitioning to folk, but you were more focused on him focussing on not messing up the words come the fourth quarter. It was just one instance of many where you were grateful for his eidetic memory. Most importantly, you make sure he remembers the four most important words in the English language: “Roll Tide” and “Beat Auburn”.

The morning of the game, you wake up bright and early at 8am. You told Spencer to meet you outside of your sorority house at 9:30. He was a little taken aback, considering the game didn’t start until 2:30, but you insisted on him getting the full experience, including early morning tailgating. It took you longer than usual to get ready, considering it was a full glam event. You put on your dress and boots, put your gameday pin on, and walked down the stairs, grabbing a sticker with your letters on it for Spencer.

He is waiting outside your house, looking slightly out of place in the enthused crowd of girls that were taking pictures along the row.

“I like the shirt,” you say, complementing your own taste.

“Thanks,” he replies, “I had a fantastic personal shopper.”

You laugh, pressing the sticker on his chest. He politely grabs your hand, intertwining his finger with yours.

Making your way to the quad, you tell him about who you’d be tailgating with. Some were clubs and organizations you were in at school, others were friends that lived nearby. He listens intently, curious about the peek into your world.

“I brought earplugs,” he says as you walk to the grassy plain of pop-up tents.

“Are you serious?” you say, lightly laughing at him.

“You know, repeated exposure to loud noise due to crowds can cause permanent hearing loss, especially–”

“Alright, I get it.” You smile at his aversion to even the slightest form of risk-taking. It’s hard to believe he rushed into danger as a special agent, but his innate instinct to help others must’ve driven him, you conclude. He smiles back, admiring your outfit and hair. He hardly ever gets to see you done up like this, so the picture of you makes his heart flutter like the first time he saw you.

By the time you’re done tailgating at about one, Spencer is tired from all the social interaction. Of course, he enjoyed meeting your friends, but he’s not necessarily the social type. Noticing his quickly draining social battery, you reassure him that he won’t have to be as conversational once you get to the stadium.

“I know it’s a little hectic,” you reassure him. “Believe me, I was just as lost as you were as a freshman.”

You think of yourself at the beginning of college, an out-of-state freshman who’d never been to a big SEC game before. You were grateful for your sorority sisters who had shown you around, and you were excited to be that person for Spencer.

You stand together outside of the steps of the library, watching the band play the elephant stomp. Once they finish their routine, you follow the band, along with the crowd, to the stadium. Spencer is mesmerized by the crowd and their traditions, as well as their passion for the team. You follow his eyes, seeing your younger self in him, a reversal of the usual dynamic where he sees his younger self in you.

His one request was that you wouldn’t sit in the student section. He could picture how thousands of drunk college students would be, and decided that it would set his germaphobia off as soon as he got there. You two are sitting near the field, Spencer not minding spending the extra for a better view. As you told him, if he was going to do it, he should do it right.

Before you take your seats, you stop by the concessions. You get stadium essentials: pretzels, Denny dogs, and popcorn to share. When you walk out of the tunnel, Spencer is instantly blinded by the sun. The fans are astonishingly excited, considering there’s still 45 minutes until kickoff.

“Are they a little more peppy than the crowds at your comic cons?” you ask, seeing his eyes widening.

“A little.” he smiles down at you, following the lead of your clomping boots up the stairs.

When the game starts, he follows along in the fight song, thankful it’s not too hot. He brought sunscreen along, explaining to you that UV is damaging even when it’s cloudy. At his request, you put it on, wanting to make him happy.

Throughout the game, you lean in to his ear to explain the plays. He opts not to wear the earplugs, wanting to hear every word you say.

“So they get four more downs?” he asks after one particular play where the announcer calls out “first down Alabama”, and the crowd replies with a Roll Tide.

“Exactly,” you say, proud of how fast he’s learning. “You're almost as good of a student as you are a teacher.”

He smiles at your compliment. “It helps when the rest of the crowd is giving hints.”

At halftime, he finds he enjoys the band performance a little more than the actual game, but he’d never tell you that. He makes sure to sing along when they play “Yea Alabama”, knowing it’ll make you proud of his memorization. Your enthusiasm in his interests made him feel supported, and he wanted you to feel the same. He knows what it’s like to be ignored when ranting about whatever fun facts he had to share, so he takes effort to not make you feel the same.

He tentatively wraps his arm around your waist, reassured when you lean into him. He’s always nervous to be affectionate with you, knowing you were worried at first how people would see you when you started dating. Slowly, you got more comfortable in his presence, allowing him to steal a kiss every now and then. He was professional in class, but after that, you were just like any other couple. In a sense, the game was a milestone. Not only were you in public with him, but surrounded by your peers. It warmed his heart that you were proud enough of your relationship to let others see you with him. He always feared he would date someone who would be embarrassed by him, but you were the opposite. You were enamored by everything about him, you loved his brain, his looks, his heart. Enough that you even asked the people sitting behind you to take pictures of the two of you.

You smile down at the image, the two of you in your gameday outfits with the field behind you.

“You look downright southern,” you say, turning your phone to show him.

You both laugh at this, him asking you to send the picture to him. He likes to print his photos out, organizing them in physical albums rather than on his phone, like you did. He makes sure to remember to get an extra for you.

At the start of the fourth quarter, they play “Basket Case” by Green Day, the only song he knew before his lessons in football. He dances along with you, embarrassment escaping him due to your carefree moves.

It’s not too sunny but not too cold, the perfect weather, in your mind, for a game. You wish it was a night game, but the rivalry makes up for it.

When “Dixieland Delight” comes on, he pulls out the shaker you bought for him.

Holding my lover with the other, a sweet, soft, Southern thrill

For a moment, he understands why the crowd doesn’t make you feel claustrophobic.

Hold her up tight (against the wall), make a little loving (all night)

There’s a unity he feels with the other fans as they chant the same words as him.

The sun begins to set over the stadium, dipping below the edge of the upper bowl. You comment on it, and Spencer says something about why the colors look the way they do, but you’re instantly distracted by the Tide running in the game winning touchdown with a 1:32 left in the fourth quarter. The stadium erupts right as Spencer finishes talking, confusing him as he wasn’t really watching the game as his attention was on you.

You’re jumping around and cheering, so he joins in. He would usually feel weird being so enthusiastic, but with the crowd all screaming, he’d almost feel weirder if he didn’t. As the clock runs down, he remembers the final tradition of the game: Rammer Jammer.

When you made him learn all the traditions, you told him that this one was for when you won. Not if, but when. He pointed out your phrasing, but your reply was only “we’re Alabama, of course we’ll win”.

You assumed prior to the game he’d be opposed to heading down to the strip afterwards, considering the crowd would probably pack the streets. He didn’t seem like the type of guy to go to Rounders, anyway. However, as everyone filed out of the stadium, he turned to you and asked what you were doing after the game.

The high from the win was infectious, and, realizing how fun your traditions were, he wanted to do it all.

“What about Taco Bell?” you ask, making the executive decision to rule out any bars. He agrees to that plan, holding your hand as you two walk down University Blvd, packed on all sides by the celebrating students.

“You people go crazy when you win, huh?”

“You should be glad this wasn’t against Tennessee,” you reply.” “I would’ve made you pull out a cigar with the rest of the crowd.”

He smiles, just slightly concerned at the tradition, but choosing not to mention the health risks of smoking. Since you’ve been dating, he’s loosened up, your spirit infectious.

Crammed between the rowdy crowd, he looks at you and smiles. He can tell you have a hint of concern for him, so he squeezes your hand, signifying that he’s enjoying himself.

“I’m glad you convinced me to come,” he says, taking in the energy.

“Me, too. I just wish I convinced you before my last home game.”

“I guess we’ll just have to come back next year.”

This makes you blush, being the first time he’s mentioned anything long term. Part of him enjoys seeing your reaction. He’d usually fumble over his words, explaining himself away, but he sticks with it this time, meaning what he says about the future.

The two of you grab your food, watching everyone on the street from inside.

“A little different from CalTech?”

“A bit,” he smiled. “I wouldn’t call it a party school, and we sure didn’t do football like you guys do.”

“Ever wish you went somewhere down South?”

“I think today was about enough for me.”

You both laugh at this, knowing, even if he wasn’t as young as he was in college, he wasn’t in his element.

He walks you back to the house afterwards, hugging you outside the door. In bed that night, you find yourself smiling at a future where you can drag him along to more games, hoping his comment of “next year” would ring true by then. Or this year would work better, a playoff at Bryant-Denny or even the Rose Bowl. Now that you thought about it, that’d be even better. You fall asleep with visions of a national championship (with Spencer and you in the crowds watching) dancing in your head.

Lucky as a seven, living in heaven with my dixieland delight

a/n: This fic is majorly based on my own life and my own daydreams about our boy Spencer if he worked at my school. Reading it over it sounds like I’m crushing on bama football more than Spencer (which might be true oops). Anyway, I'm gonna start going thru requests soon but I just had to put this idea into writing 🫶

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you

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obeymeshallwedateaddict · 3 days ago

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hi hi! can i request oneshot ⁿˢᶠʷ top barbatos x GN!reader please? i want to read what will he do when he got jealous to make sure the world knows mc are his. also please include *cough* tailsex.

thanks in advance 💐

Your wish is my command ★ Enjoy!

Summary: During a big event another demon gets a little too close to you for Barbatos' liking so he decides to show you exactly who you belong to.

Contains: NSFW

GN!reader x Barbatos

Warnings: 18+ content, tailsex

Masterlist

You're mine

You were one of the guests in the big event that was held at the Demon lord's castle. Of course the whole House of Lamentation were invited as well as Purgatory hall and many other noble families from the among the whole Devildom. All guests barely fit in the huge ball room of the castle.

Barbatos was walking around in an elegant suit with a silver tray in hand, carefully balancing a few drinks on it and offering it to the guests with mannered words and elegance. He was radiating prestige.

At times he'd find himself at Diavolo's side, carefully observing the guest the prince was talking to, making sure to keep him safe and at other times he'd find himself looking over the guests in the room just to lock his eyes on you and make sure you were behaving. You were wearing a bit too revealing clothes for the butler's liking and he felt the need to watch over you and any other demons even if all they did offer a swift glance your way.

Meanwhile you were having the time of your life. Walking around with the beautiful outfit which was chosen for you by the fifth-born, explaining the way it looked and a glass of high-end demonus in hand. You had the main attention in the hall. Stealing glances from all the demons around you, accompanied by many jealous stares by the lovers of said demons.

Suddenly a man approached you. He was a tall and handsome demon. Everyone was all over him. Though his appearance wasn't left unnoticed by Barbatos. He furrowed his brows and observed the demon carefully. A pang of jealousy gnawed at his heart but he was fast to push it away. As the conversation with the demon progressed Barbatos became more envious. The demon had his hand resting on your lower back while you two were talking and laughing. 'You seem like the perfect couple. But that won't do.' Barbatos thought.

He excused himself away from lord Diavolo and left the tray with drinks on one of the tables before making his way to you. And right when the demon was about to grasp your chin, in an attempt to bring you closer and steal a kiss Barbatos yanked his hand away, holding it with a strength even he himself didn't know he had. At first the demon was annoyed but upon seeing Barbatos' angry face he backed away with a pale face and fear in his eyes. Barbatos shoved him even farther away and took a few slow steps towards you.

-"MC what were you doing with him...?" –He hissed.

-"We were just having a regular conversation, Barbatos! No need to get jealous over it."

-"A regular conversation, you say?" –Barbatos murmurs and pushes you against the nearest wall, leaning in closer. You shiver.

-"If it was a 'regular conversation' as you put it.. why was his hand hoovering over your lower back.. why were you two laughing so casually.. why was he about to kiss you just now?" –He speaks in a low, dangerous voice while trapping you more firmly against the wall.

-"I.. well.."

-"You're speechless because you know what I said is true, aren't you?"

-"I uhm..." – You stutter once more, unsure of what to say. You see the fire in his eyes become more powerful and the grip on your hips tightens.

-"MC, tell me. Who do you belong to, hm?" –He asks and when you don't answer he pushes you further into the wall, leaning in, lips hoovering just above your ear.

-"So? Are you going to answer or am I going to have to force the answer out of those pretty lips of yours and show you who you actually belong to hm?" –Without waiting for your answer the demon teleports both of you to his room, immediately pushing you towards the nearest surface.

-"Clothes off, MC. Clock's ticking." –The demon takes a few steps back, admiring you as you slowly dispose of your clothes. That's when you noticed his form change. His tail had come out along with that demonic aura demons gave off when they were in their demon form. You know Barbatos wasn't playing games this time.

He reached for a chair and pulled it forward, sitting on it and crossing his legs while his fingers were working on loosening his suit and bow tie. When all of your clothes were away from your body, revealing your naked form to the demon he smirked, the fire in his eyes burning with unknown passion.

-"Crawl to me." –He speaks in a dangerous tone that makes shivers run down your spine but you nod and slowly make your way to him on your hands and knees just as he had requested. You looked like a puppy aching to feel the feeling of closeness upon nearing its owner. Such a desperate sensation. But that was exactly what the butler wanted you to feel. He wanted you to know your exact place and where you belonged.

When you neared him he wrapped his long, slick tail around your waist and yanked you over to him, positioning you over his already hardened member that was bulging against his pants. He crashed his lips to yours in a dominant kiss, tongues fighting for dominance though you were no match for him. He was a demon after all. And no other but Barbatos, the master of time himself.

Soon enough he stood up and moved you both to the nearest wall. The cold surface of the stone bricks cooled your burning body down which made you take a sharp breath which wasn't left unnoticed and earned you a soft chuckle. And then you felt something against your entrance.. the sharp tip of his slick tail, teasing your hole, bringing you to a point where you wanted to beg for him to push it in. Your body was squirming and you were struggling and the thing is that Barbatos knew that. He was very aware of that fact and wanted it to be that way. And then when you thought you finally reached a peak he pushed it in, making you squeak in pleasure. The demon smirked and began pumping his tail in and out - as far as it could go, hitting all the right places inside you every single time. But just as when you were about to hit the point of sweet release he pulled out and never pushed it back in. You whined in disappointment which earned you an almost sadistic chuckle.

-"How bad do you want it?" –His demonic voice echoed through the room.

-"I want it soo bad, Barbatos, please.." –You pleaded but he shook his head.

-"You aren't going to get anything before you tell me exactly what I want to hear.. so.. go on MC.. tell me.. who owns you, hm?"

-"You, Barbatos."

-"Who is the only one who can make you feel this way?"

-"You, Barbatos."

-"And do you know what all of these things make you, MC? They make you mine. Not anyone else's... Mine.. and only mine." –He says as he unzips his trousers and pushes his demon cock inside you, making you see stars. You could feel each and every vein of it as it stretched you wide. And soon enough you found your release. Moaning and begging while milking Barbatos' dick. But he wasn't done. Instead of stopping he went faster, searching his own release. The intensity was so powerful that it could make you scream out of pleasure and then the demon released his thick load inside you, marking you as his.

-"You're mine, MC. You've always been mine... And you'll always be."

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reallife6anoufriev6boy6 · 2 days ago

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caldre smut fic

includes spanking, praise, degradation, daddy kink, andre being overly worried, etc.

note: this came from a post and then my boyfriend found the full video, so i decided to write this….enjoy your slop/j

calvin was situated over andres lap while he sat on his bed, jeans pulled down to his knees to show his grey boxers.

cal had wanted to try something different this time around, but andre was hesitant.

it was weird to put it simply and he didnt want to hurt his boyfriend. although, theyve done a lot worse - even before they established they were dating.

so, nonetheless he still tries.

“just do it, ‘dre. itll be fine,” cal reassures him, looking back at him “im *asking* you to do it, arent i?”

andre slowly nodded “well, yeah, but i dont want to - you know, hurt you.”

the blonde smiled, enjoying all of the others worry and care “thats the point though, andre. its supposed to hurt.”

hes not wrong, it was supposed to hurt. he just didnt want to get too carried away and hurt him *too* badly.

calvin seems to know what hes thinking, so he adds “i trust you. i know you wont make it too bad.”

with that andre lets out a sigh, flexing his hands to let his knuckles crack “if it hurts too bad youll tell me, yeah?”

calvin quickly nodded, too eager to worry about that sort of thing. he liked how much andre cared, but sometimes it would get in the way of things.

however, the brunette finally gets on with it, trusting that cal will tell him if it becomes too much for him.

andre lays his hand flat over calvins ass, lifting it before bringing it right back down. it wasnt anything too hard at first, but it wasnt too soft either.

cal lets out a short squeak, burying his face into the bedsheets. it felt good although it wasnt exactly the roughness he was looking for.

he brings his hand up again and then back down, taking note of the way the others body seemed to jolt.

he does it a third time and then a forth, now being able to feel cals erection hard against his thigh.

“do it - a little harder, please, andre.” he begged, voice muffled from the bed sheets. he *needed* it to be as hard and rough as possible.

andre hesitated again though, but ultimately obliged - he brought his hand down harder this time which pulls a whiny moan out of his boyfriend.

“was that alright?” he asked, wanting to make sure he was doing it how he wanted him to.

“yeah - god, yeah, ‘dre. keep doing it like that *please.*” his eagerness and begging seemed to take a toll on him. it was always one of the things that got to him.

andre hits him even harder, reveling in the cry he gets in return. its beautiful, really, he thought all the noises cal made were gorgeous.

he gets ready to do it again, but is interrupted by feeling the other grind down against his thigh. it makes his breath hitch and he gets an idea - an idea he has no clue if calvin will like or not, but he does it anyway.

andre slams down his hand twice as hard, getting an even louder cry from cal “dont fucking grind against me unless i tell you otherwise, alright?”

the blonde is ecstatic as soon as he says that - he loves when andre is dominant and can use his naturally commanding tone for something like this.

“yeah - yes, sir - daddy, ah, fuck,” it comes out in a string of nonsense, but hes able to catch onto what he says and it makes his erection strain against his pants.

he doesnt reply though and just lays another slap down, listening to the moaning and whining.

he decides though that he wants to change this up a little bit.

he takes a moment to pull down calvins grey boxers, exposing him fully now. he doesnt seem to mind it - only letting out a whimper from the lack of touch.

andre gives him what he wants again though, flattening out his hand once more and hitting him.

it hurts more now without the barrier and cal lets it show, pressing his hips down as if to move away from the other.

the brunette takes notice and lays down an even harsher hit “i thought you wanted this, calvin? did you change your mind?”

cal cant get over the way he says his name, whimpering again as he shook his head, but that wasnt good enough. he lets out a yelp as hes hit once again.

“yeah - i do, i want it, sir,” it comes out, almost stuttery “please - im sorry.”

andre hummed, letting his hand rest over his ass as he rubbed at the mark already starting to form “tell me how much you want it, cal.”

the blonde swallowed hard, but does his best to answer “so, so bad, ‘dre. i - i wanna feel your hands on me,” he yelped as he was cut off by another slap, but he continued “please, daddy - shit, it feels so good.”

andre wasnt sure if he was dreaming or not. this was too good to be true and he couldnt get enough of it.

he then grabbed a fistful of his silky blonde hair, yanking his head up to look at him.

there were *tears* streaking down his face and there was spit covering his mouth and chin.

he hadnt even realized he started crying and he wants to ask if hes okay - if this was getting to be too much for him, but his boyfriend already knew what he was going to say, so he gives him a short, subtle nod for him to continue.

thats all he needed.

“are you sure thats what you want?,” he questioned, yanking his head back a little further “you want me to keep hurting you like youre some *slut?*”

the blonde nodded eagerly, sniffling “please, please daddy. i need it so fucking bad - you have no idea.”

he lets go of his hair and gets ready to continue, but the other is confused when he doesnt get right back to it.

however, his confusion turns to excitement when he hears andre unbuckling his belt and sliding it out of the loops on his pants.

andre holds both ends and doesnt hesitate to smack it right down against him, hearing the string of sounds and sobs it earns.

he does it again and again - continuing to do it over and over again while he watched the area turn a pretty shade of pink and red.

it was beautiful. he thought calvin looked like an angel no matter what they were doing - even if it something as dirty as this.

“oh, oh ‘dre,” he moaned, digging his nails into the bed sheets “you gotta let - let me do it, daddy. oh, you have to.” its obvious what he means and he figured it wouldnt hurt to let him.

“only if you can behave - dont hump me like some damn dog.” before he can even finish his sentence, he was already grinding down against him like earlier. it felt good to finally relieve the pain.

at this point the blonde was panting like a dog, grinding down against andres thigh so hard that his jeans were starting to irritate his cock, but he makes no effort to stop him.

“oh, fuck, fuck - you, you gotta let me cum, daddy, please-“ it comes out in a sob - so desperate and needy to get himself off no matter what.

andre doesnt have a reason not to let him, so he agreed “yeah, go ahead, cal.” he says it all soft, contrasting from his earlier tone.

calvin takes that and grinds his hips down just about as hard as he could while andre takes the opportunity to lay another hit or two on him.

it was only a moment later that he was cumming all over his thigh with a high pitched moan - moaning andres name as loud as he could, just for him to hear.

its music to his ears, he thinks. all of this was perfect.

calvin is exhausted by the time hes finished, letting himself lay on andres lap while he comes down from his high.

the brunette sets the belt down and placed his hand back over the marks, rubbing over them gently again “that was really good.” he says it, sounding embarrassed for even being into it.

calvin lets out a breathless laugh, finding it cute how embarrassed he seemed to be.

he managed to sit up after a moment, trying to get over the stinging pain in his body “you did good too, ‘dre. youre the best at this,” he compliments him, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before pulling away “im so lucky to have you.”

the contrast between his words and what they did was amusing, but andre didnt care. he just smiled as his face warmed up.

although before he can comment, cals already looking down at his pants.

“oh, andre, your pants,” he tries to hold back his laughter “youre too easy.”

he gives him a confused look, but when he looks down he becomes about a hundred times more embarrassed. there was a wet spot right over his front, obviously from cumming himself.

“goddamnit,” he hissed under his breath “ruined my damn jeans.”

“they were already ruined anyway,” he gestured to the more obvious white spot that was from cal rather then himself “you can just borrow mine, i dont care.”

cal could say he was lucky all he wanted, but at the end of the day andre was even luckier then him.

“thanks, man,” he sighed “do you need me to do anything for you? you know - because…” he was still worried he had hurt him too much, but his boyfriend was quick to reassure him again.

“im fine, andre. dont worry so much,” he smiled as he wiped away the remaining tears in his eyes, face now tacky and dry “you did great.”

he finds it hard to believe him, but he forces himself to anyway.

“im allowed to worry, cal. youre my - uh, shit…” his voice trails off, not being able to say the word. it was all still so new so he didnt want to mess up and say the wrong thing.

“just because im your *boyfriend* now doesnt change anything,” he says it for him “im still the same person.”

he placed his hand on the side of his face, kissing him again. the other quickly reciprocated and leaned into it.

“i love you, ‘dre.”

“i love you too, cal.”

#tcc fandom #tcc tumblr #tccblr #tcctwt #tee cee cee #tccblur #teeceecee #anoufrievboy fanfics #caldre #calvin gabriel #cal gabriel #andre kriegman #zero day 2003 #zero day

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annwrites · 17 hours ago

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⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part five. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: tragedy strikes when a plane crashes. john insists upon your relationship taking the next step. · tags: mothering kink, lactation kink · tw: possessiveness, codependency, attachment issues · word count: 3,742

One hundred and eighteen people are dead. In an instant. Just…gone. Fallen from the sky. Innocent people just trying to get from one place to another. Including a mother and her little girl. Teachers, families, couples…

It’s been everywhere today: on the news, social media, and on the lips of every person you pass in the halls at your college.

And you feel sick every time you think of the terror they must’ve felt. How…helpless they were as they probably clung to each other in those final moments, praying for someone—something—to save them…

You try to push it out of your mind, to the best of your ability, so you might make it through the rest of the day without bursting into a puddle of tears.

That evening, you pick idly at your dinner as you watch John on your flat screen.

Three minutes. If he’d been three minutes sooner, there at least would’ve been a chance at saving them.

And then you watch as he actually gets choked up—as tears stream from his bloodshot eyes—and your own chin wobbles in response.

Please, God, don’t let him blame himself.

He got there as quickly as he could.

While part of you hates him—is terrified of him—for the way he’s been treating you since first meeting a handful of days ago, you're sure he would’ve practically carried that plane to safety if it’d still been in the air when he arrived. He has every right to be angry. To be upset. Because countless lives have now been destroyed, and over a hundred taken through an act of evil—of terrorism.

At least they’re dead now, too.

You hope that if there is a hell—from whatever religion is it that they prescribed to—that they’re suffering in it.

You glance down to your barely-touched dinner, then rise to put it away.

Once you’ve brushed your teeth and are ready to lie down for the night, you glance to your balcony doors, and, most unexpectedly, fill with disappointment when you find the space to be empty.

Then, you quickly fill with guilt immediately after. How could you expect him to show up here after the day he’s had? You are the furthest thing from his metaphorical plate—from his mind.

The real world is calling now, and your time of being a distraction to him is over.

He’s gone, and he’s not—

Just as you step toward the doors to close your curtains is when he lands outside them, causing you to jump from fright.

And then tears quickly gather in your eyes as you turn the handle.

John turns around slowly, and he gently rests his hands on his hips while shrugging slightly. “I—”

He shakes his head and glances to his feet. “I tried. I really—if I’d gotten there sooner—”

You throw yourself against his chest and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you choke out between sobs.

You run your fingertips through his hair and bury your face in his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper. “There is nothing you could’ve done. This is not your fault.”

He slips an arm beneath your legs, and he carries you back inside.

John currently has one of your nipples in his mouth, and is gently sucking on it for comfort while you rub his head and keep blankets tucked tightly around him.

You turned quiet white noise on awhile ago to try and lull him to sleep, but every time you think he might be close to drifting off, he begins sucking again.

Such a strange arrangement this is tonight. And in general, really.

But you won’t tell him no in anything he needs to soothe himself. He’s been through utter hell today, and he came to you of all people to make it better. To hold and console him.

“Do you think they’ll do it?” You whisper.

He hums in curiosity.

“Let supes into the military,” you explain while resting a palm against the warm skin of his back.

He releases your breast from his mouth and swallows before replying, wishing you could lactate. He’d like that tonight. But he instead has to make do with what you have to offer.

At least he has the rest of you to do with as he pleases. Whether you like it or not.

And you’re even stupid enough to buy his sob story about being filled with immeasurable guilt over not being able to save the day. When, in reality, he doesn’t feel an ounce of it.

Because, really, it may just work out in the long-run for Vought, and get them exactly what Madelyn has been wanting for months on-end.

He smiles at the thought of her being pleased with him this time. She should’ve been for the last plane he brought down, but he set things right with those words he fed VNN just a handful of hours ago.

And now here he lies in your arms, while you coo over him like a loving mother.

He snuggles closer to you, feeling completely content for once.

He could get used to this. But only when he needs it—rather, wants it—of course. He can’t keep coming over here every night like he has been. Can’t come off as needy.

Even if he feels like he does need it: you, your attention, affection, and maternal comfort and love.

Finally, he replies. “It’d be ignorant as shit for them not to after what happened today, don’t you think? I mean, for the military to say that they’d rather have ordinary soldiers on the frontlines, as opposed to those who can survive a bullet or bombs…”

He shakes his head in indignation. “No different than today. Every day this country fails its people—people the government is supposed to be working for. Instead, they’re getting them killed needlessly. So, if us entering the military can save innocent lives, then I’m all for it.”

Your eyes flit between his while you gingerly cup his cheek, and he nuzzles into your touch. “I know that physically, you can’t be hurt.”

You trail your fingertips up to his temple. “But what about in here?”

You press a kiss to his forehead. “Sweetheart, you have already been through so much pain because of these people. Going to war…the things you’d see—”

“I can handle it,” he says, cutting you short.

You grow silent for a moment.

“Is this something you want, or something you’ve been told will happen to you if the people at Vought get their way? Meaning you have no true say.”

He’s not used to this: someone looking out for him. He’s not so stupid as to think that when Madelyn tells him that all she does is to protect him that she actually means it. She’s just…telling him what he wants to hear. But, because he’s so desperate for the attention…he’s willing to pathetically play along.

But with you, it isn’t a sick game. It’s honest. You are.

You ghost your fingertips over his lips, waiting for a response.

Until he decides that he doesn’t much feel up to trying at giving one.

So, instead, he takes your nipple into his mouth again, and he begins to suck.

You sigh quietly, but don’t push the subject. Instead, you gingerly cup the back of his head and begin to hum a nursery rhyme, so as to lull him, hopefully, to sleep.

When John wakes in the morning, it’s not in your arms, but he’s immediately comforted by the smell of eggs cooking and the sound of bacon sizzling on the stovetop across the room. And you hum along quietly to pop music, which plays softly on your little vintage countertop radio.

Sunlight streams through sheer gossamer curtains a few feet from the bed, and he’s practically swaddled in blankets, with plenty of soft pillows to keep him comfortable.

He really likes it here with you. It feels like…home. A home he’s never, in all his life—over forty years—had a chance to have. But this place is just that.

It’s well-decorated, cozy, clean, and warm. Charming. Idyllic, even. Honestly? You deserve an entire house, he thinks. He’d love to see what you’d come up with in turning it, gradually, into a home. Maybe into one for the both of you.

You playing the role of his perfect, dutiful little housewife…? He loves the idea. Fucking adores it. And it’s not like you could ever hope for better, anyway. What woman wouldn’t want such a life given to her by him of all men? Only an imbecile would refuse it.

Now, he has something to truly think about and consider. Given you continue behaving yourself for him—continue doing as he says, and being his well-behaved young lady…and playing mommy to him, which he needs most of all.

“This is nice,” John says after taking a bite of buttered toast, with a smile on his lips.

A smile that you return while gently brushing your foot against his beneath the table.

You’re still wary of him. You’re not so stupid not to be. To be wholly trusting and adoring toward him when you know what he’s capable of would just make you careless toward your own safety and well-being.

Maybe you are anyway.

But what choice do you have but to continue entertaining him like this? To continue…mothering him.

“I’m glad,” you say quietly before taking a drink of orange juice.

He leans back then, and you watch as he looks around your apartment, carefully taking in every feature and facet.

You shift nervously in your seat, wondering what he’s thinking—why he’s studying the space so intently all of a sudden.

And then his eyes meet yours again, and you merely look at him shyly from beneath your lashes while swallowing a forkful of cheesy scrambled eggs.

“I like it here,” he remarks. “It’s so…homey. You’re a good little homemaker.”

You flash him a toothy smile, and he genuinely returns it, enjoying the sight of you so happy.

You like being praised, he notes. You probably have no one to give you regular encouragement and approval. No one to give you attention.

He likes that you seemingly like having his. And certainly likes that his is the only that you have.

He doesn’t need to worry about someone else standing in his way—between the two of you. Between him and what now belongs to him. But, even if such a person existed…it wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Thank you,” you say while actually blushing. “I’ve worked really hard on it. It’s not much, but I’ve done my best with what little space and money that I have.”

He takes a sip of milk, then licks his lips. “I can tell. I do wonder, though…”

Your brows furrow when he begins to trail off. “What, baby?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. God, he really fucking loves when you call him that. He likes when you call him any pet name, in truth. Baby, sweetheart, sweetie… He wishes you’d call him more. Like, perhaps, your sweet baby boy—or your perfect little boy. Maybe, in time, you will.

He shrugs, then waves his hand, as if he’s trying to be nonchalant. When, in reality, he wants you to push him to tell you. Wants you to show interest in what is it that he has to say. Wants to know that what he thinks matters to you more than anything. Well, that he matters to you more than anything—not just what he thinks.

You gently set your fork down on your plate, then rest your hands in your lap. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

He glances to his right, to where your balcony doors lie. “Just wondering what you might think about my place at Seven Tower.”

You blanch momentarily as he looks back to you.

He’s about to segue into asking you to come see it, isn’t he? His apartment, that is. You wouldn’t be surprised if he offers to give you a tour of the entire building, just as an opportunity to show off. Not just how he, most likely, knows the whole of the place like the back of his hand, but also so you can witness how everyone there probably bows and scrapes before him: the face of the Seven. The face of Vought. The face…of the entire country—of America.

You know he’s waiting for a specific response. An agreeable one. One that will please him.

“What’s it like?” You ask, feigning mild curiosity, even if you couldn’t care less.

It’s probably like every other corporate skyscraper: soulless and without character. Just a giant advertisement for their brand. A monument to their greed.

He takes a bite of his bacon and chews thoughtfully for a moment before answering. “Guess you’ll just have to come and see for yourself to find out.”

You proceed to stare at him in response to his, admittedly, predictable answer.

You refrain from shifting in your seat, so as to prevent him from bearing witness one of your ‘tells’ for when you feel uncomfortable.

“Oh. W-when?”

You grab your glass of orange juice and hold it between your hands to try and keep them steady—to prevent them from shaking from nerves.

“How about today?” He replies, taking another bite of his eggs.

You grip the glass more tightly. “How? I mean—”

“I can fly you up. We’ll just go in through the roof. No need to bother with metal detectors and what-not.”

You nod slowly.

At least you won’t have to worry, then, about crowds and people snapping pictures of you on their cellphones. That is the very last thing you desire: obnoxious notoriety, and to have yourself splashed across the cover of a supermarket tabloid with a question in bold print asking who Homelander’s new girl is.

And there’s still Emma.

Emma, who you’ve been…somewhat avoiding as of late, strictly from guilt. Guilt that you’re lying to her by omission. Omitting the fact that you’re carrying on with Homelander, for lack of a better term, that is.

If she ever finds out, her heart will break in two. You’re dealing with enough right now, such as the man who sits before you. Adding the loss of your best friend to the list of stressors upon you might just be more than you can handle.

“Okay,” you finally say in reply.

John watches and trails along behind you as you walk slowly around his apartment, looking it over.

He suddenly feels like all his nerve endings have been exposed. It’s a similar—if not near-identical feeling—to how he felt that first night he laid in your arms without a stitch of clothing on, minus his briefs. But he’s gotten used to it; likes it even: the warmth of your body against his own in the middle of the night, when it feels like the two of you are all that’s left in the world.

“So, what do you think?” He asks, eager for your thoughts.

You turn around and ease your head back as you gaze up at him and into irises of blue.

“It…” You trail off.

You don’t want to anger him with your answer, but are also growing tired of lying to spare his overly-sensitive feelings. It’s exhausting walking this dangerous tightrope every time you’re together.

If he doesn’t want an unpleasant answer, then maybe he shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place, and furthermore shouldn’t be asking your opinion on his personal living space.

You nearly flinch when he reaches up and cups your cheek.

You truly detest his suit, including his gloves.

So, you reach up, take his hand in yours, and pull gently against the fingertips of the soft red material.

He stays quiet as you remove it, and then his other one, before tossing them both onto a nearby table.

You blink innocently up at him and he smiles.

You fill with relief that he didn’t take offense to the gesture.

God, he is truly exhausting.

He cups your cheek again and brushes his thumb along your soft, flushed skin. “You can be honest.”

You mentally raise a brow at that. “Did you decorate it, or—”

He purses his lips and shakes his head. “No. Not something I’d ever waste my time with.”

He smirks. “That’s women’s work.”

You do raise a brow then and frown slightly as well, so he grins at your response.

He turns you around and pulls you back against his chest before wrapping his arms around your neck. “So?”

“Well, it’s very clean, which I like,” you say while resting your hands on his arms.

He snorts. Of course you’d reply with that.

“And?” He pushes, wanting for more.

You sigh. “I hate it. It’s very…empty. Impersonal. It feels like we’re in an American History museum instead of what’s supposed to be your home. There’s no…personal touches. It feels far more like Homelander’s living space, and less like my John’s.”

He stills, which you take immediate note of, and you grow cold all over.

You fucked up. Said too much. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Your John,” he whispers.

With your back against his chest, you can’t see the tears shimmering in his eyes at the sweet sentiment.

Your body loosens and relaxes, and you lean further back against him—your legs now a bit wobbly-feeling from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline.

“I mean, do you like the way it’s decorated and arranged?”

His mouth tugs into a frown and he shrugs. “I don’t spend much time here, to tell you the truth.”

You turn around and slide your hands up his chest and into his hair while standing on tiptoes. “You could always have it redone, sweetie. Hire a decorator, pick some things out and—”

He smiles widely and you shut your mouth while your brows furrow.

“What…?” You ask hesitantly while cocking your head slightly to the side.

He rests his hands against the small of your back, holding you close.

“I could just have you do it for me,” he states while sliding his hands higher, beneath the soft feminine top you have on.

Your eyes flit between his, waiting for explanation.

“You could come live here,” he explains. “We hire a decorator, like you said, or I just give you my credit card and let you do as you please to turn this place into a proper home. I foot the bill while you…y’know, go nuts.”

He…wants to live together?

Oh, no. No, no, no. That is way too big of a step to take, and far too soon.

His attachment issues know no bounds.

There’s a specific word for this level of it, isn’t there? Co…something. Codependency, yes! And now he’s made you the subject of his sick version of it. You wonder how many have come before you—have failed and disappointed him—then disappeared, per Vought, so he can inevitably find another to take their place.

Or, maybe you’re the first.

Who knows?

But if you are…why?

He never did answer that question, did he? Why you, that is.

You don’t think you should force that answer out of him right now, though.

“Baby, that is…a huge step. And I don’t think that…after only knowing each other for little over a week, for us to…take that leap—”

The light slowly drains from his eyes, and his smile disappears.

You swallow thickly while your heart jumps into your throat.

“What? You don’t want to be here? Don’t want me around?”

You jump into damage-control mode. “Of course I do, baby. But… I have less than two months left in school before I get my diploma. I’m about to be loaded down with finals. And there’s work, too. Just…to move in the middle of it all…”

You cup the back of his head and smile warmly, desperate to keep him from getting angry. Terrified of what will happen to you if you don’t succeed.

“How about this, sweetheart: we can compromise, maybe, if you like? You could pack a bag: clothes, toiletries, books and movies—I’ll even help you. Just…whatever you like. And you bring it all back to my apartment. I’ll clean out one of the drawers in my dresser for you, and some space in my closet, a spot in my bathroom—whatever you need—and you can continue staying there, just like you’ve been. But this way, it’ll feel more like your home, too. I mean, you like it better there, right? You said that you do.”

You press a soft kiss to his cheek, then gaze warmly into his eyes as you wait for—you desperately fucking hope—a positive response.

He considers for a moment—you note how he grinds his jaw while in thought—and then he exhales while nodding. “Alright. Fine. But only until you’ve graduated. Right?”

You ignore the feeling of fear that overtakes you at his insistence. “Of course. I’ll just have a lot less on my plate then, sweetie. And it’ll be good to wait. Because it’ll give us more time to get to know one another. And you to have an opportunity to make sure that that’s what you truly want: me living here. Because I’d hate to…to just move in, and you decide a week or two later that you’ve made a huge mistake, and I have no apartment to go back to because I gave it up, you know?”

He nods his head from side to side in understanding. “Okay. I’ll pack a bag or two, and I’ll just continue coming to you every night.”

He smirks while leaning down and cupping your face between his hands—the image of him crushing your head between them flits briefly through your mind—and he presses a kiss to your lips.

“Besides, I love seeing you comfortable and in your element, anyway. And it’s nice having home-cooked meals so often.”

He grabs one of your ass cheeks, and your eyes widen in surprise. “And we don’t have to worry about the lemmings here at Vought up both our asses when we’re being intimate and when you’re…y’know, looking after me.”

You nod. “That’s all I want: privacy. And for me to have you all to myself.”

You hope he likes that last bit… You only tacked it on for his benefit.

When you feel his erection suddenly pressing against your stomach—hard and firm—you have confirmation that he does.

And then he presses his lips to yours once more.