#I’m too drunk to be rational

[i-could-be-so-much-more]

I just ..don’t understand men… sure, you wanna dip, that’s fine… but why would you then, a week later, send me a picture of a dog, that you ‘thought I would appreciate’ ????? Is this just an in that you’re using to try and talk to me again? Is this just a head fuck? Did you just see a dog and think ‘hm misha would like this’ but with no intention of any follow up? I just..I don’t understand… and also… don’t read it and not reply????

[gojonanami]

‧ ˚. STAY WITH ME? - SATORU GOJO X READER

tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, drunk!satoru, cuddly, a little suggestive

Satoru Gojo never drank. Never.

“Honeyyyy I’m home,” you heard your boyfriend call out, followed by the sound of shattering glass and a soft groan. You sit up in bed, all hints of sleep slipping away.

Except when he went out with Shoko.

“Is this how you welcome yourself home? Breaking something?” You come out with a dustbin and broom, as Satoru pouted, swaying in place as he watches you, trying to take a step forward, the crack of glsss underfoot until you stop him, “stay still,”

He pouts, and you know he is because he tells you as you clean up, as you dispose of the sharp glass remnants of your mug in the trash bin, and then you feel large arms curl around your waist.

“Toru—“ and his face is buried in the crook of your neck, the flush of his cheeks evident in the warmth of his skin pressed against you, “are you drunk?”

“Noooo, just missed you,” he nuzzled you, pressing soft kisses to your neck, “missed you too much. I can’t go anywhere without you. Don’t wanna let go,” he whined as you nearly had to drag the six foot man around the kitchen.

You were going to kill Shoko later.

“Oh really? Even on a mission?” And he’s nodding, clinging to you like a puppy. “you gonna just carry me around while you fire off red and blue?” he nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a shiver from you, “Toru—“

“Want you, sweetheart,” and you turn to face him, but in an instant he’s gotten you into bed — and you realized he teleported you. He’s hovering over you, panting and cheeks flushed — and god he looks so cute — but you’re trying to be rational — which is difficult when he’s trying to pull your shorts off, “need you so bad. Started crying because you weren’t there at the bar with me,” and you have to suppress your snort.

“Satoru, how many drinks did you have?” You squirm, but you only succeed in making him groan as he takes it as you grinding against him, “you need sleep, not sex, you horny weirdo,”

And you flip him over onto his back somehow, “sweetheart, please—“ you kiss him softly, again and again, and he melts like butter on a skillet against you — he always was when it came to you.

“Go to bed,” you murmur, and he’s lamely clutching onto you, trying to lean up and kiss you again, but you shake your head, “in the morning. Once you’re not drunk off your ass.”

“If you don’t sleep with me, I’m gonna yell!” But his threat falls flat with his pout and slurred words, only making you chuckle.

“Then I’ll let you sleep in this bed alone,” and he’s holding onto you for dear life, curling around you like a goddamn monkey, “Toru!” You wiggle but he doesn’t let you go, but you succeed in turning away.

“Just stay with me,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, “please?”

And just easily as he melts, you do too.

You sigh, turning back around and kissing his forehead, before tangling your arms around him too, his grip loosening.

“Always, Toru.”

[hotchfiles]

— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

      He knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. What he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. He had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

      “Darling? What–What are these?” He asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. You’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. It always worked.

      Normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

      “What’s the only thing I asked of you, Aaron?” You don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

      Aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. He was so tired. “I know, I’m sorry–”

      “Answer the question, please.”

      “Don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. That’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. If you’re not sure, don’t promise me you will be able to make it.

      First months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

      He watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

      This was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. All the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. Just–Teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

      “We saved two girls today.” Low blow. But it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. To save two thirteen year old girls. Not some futile reason. It had to count for something.

      “I’m proud of you for that, Aaron. Are you proud of me? For the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? Or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” You raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

      You always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

      “That’s not what i said–”

      “I know what you said. You want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. That’s not how it works.” You open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “I want you to leave.”

      “You know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” Sore spot. You were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. But he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

      “How am I a child?” You begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “We had an agreement. You broke it. Am I a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

      He knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “I said you’re acting like a child. The one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” Aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “See? proving my point.”

      “How many times do I have to accept you screwing up so I can be seen as mature?” You yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “Same times as Haley? How many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

      Lower blow.

      Hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. Still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

      Your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “I’m not leaving.” You wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

      His eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

      Damn you for choosing wine.

      Hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “Fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

      Eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

      You melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. And you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

      A pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

      Aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

      His lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “I love you, so, so much”. His declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “Please don’t make me leave after this.” It comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

      “Just shut up and take your pants off.”

      “You know I can only do one of those.” It makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

      On the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. He drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

      “Fuck—Oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” It isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

      You kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, Hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. You enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

      Lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by Aaron’s calloused fingers. You arch your back and moan loudly, “Fuck, yes, and move.”

      It feels like an order and for Hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

      “Honey, fuck—Please…” His begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

      “Aaron—I’m… Fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

      The praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

      “Yeah? Like this?” The way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

      His movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. Your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “Yes, fuck—“ You’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “Aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

      He would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “I can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” His lasts broken words before letting himself go.

      You don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

      “Aaron?”

      “Yes, sweetheart?”

      “You can stay.” He looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “But if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, I’ll chop your dick off.”

      “You like it too much to do that.” His grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “See?”

      “Bite me.”

      “Gladly.”

[illusioninfnty]

day 4 ; cockwarming

↠ "red haired" shanks x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 1k warnings: nsfw 18+, public sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Another round on me, little lady!”

Pirates swarm Partys Bar as you scramble to serve everyone at once. Makino occasionally requested your help whenever she knew it would get busy, and each time you happily obliged. However, the pirate crew was rowdier than usual today, and it seemed as though you couldn’t catch a break.

“I’ll be right with you!” You call out to the pirate as you rush to sweep up some broken glass that was dropped by one of the piss-ass drunk crew members. 

As you pass by, you feel a calloused hand skim the back of your ass. You don’t even have to look behind you to know exactly who it belongs to—Shanks.

You and Shanks have done some things in the past, mostly involving him dragging you away to fuck you when he was pumped up on adrenaline from his time at sea.

You ignore his advances this time, too focused on trying to cater to all of his crew. But the second time you’re forced to pass him, serving more rounds of whiskey to his men, he wraps an arm around the back of your thighs and pulls you towards him.

“Shanks!” You gasp. He paws at your ass from his seat on the stool, kneading the soft flesh as laughs at your surprised expression. “I’m supposed to be working!”

He rolls his eyes. “Makino doesn’t even pay you. Take a break with me.”

You finally comply, silently agreeing that you were working way harder than you wanted to be. Makino was busy with patrons at the other side of the bar, and most of the pirates that you were catering to were either passed out or too drunk to comprehend anything.

Shanks settles you into his lap as he brings his lips to yours. He cups your face with hand as you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into him. His warmth envelopes you as you play with the ends of his hair while he caresses your backside.

“I want to try something,” Shanks mumbles into your neck as you pull away for some air.

You hum, encouraging him to continue.

“Let me put my cock in you.”

You freeze. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing on your mind.

“Shanks, we’re in public! In—in front of your crew!” You whisper through clenched teeth and look around frantically, hoping no one heard him.

He sighs, a crease forming between his brow. “Not like that. I’m not going to fuck you now. Just…let it rest in there.” He starts to trail kisses down your neck. “It’ll feel good for both of us.”

“But what if they see?” you ask shakily, your hands grasping onto his broad shoulders for support.

Shanks grabs your chin and turns your head to face him. “C’mon, babe. Everyone’s already slurring their speech. They won’t be able to remember anything come tomorrow morning. And if they do, then they just know you belong to me.”

You bite your lip, chewing on it as you get lost in thought. His words had a wave of heat surging through your body, but you still had to think rationally about what you were about to do. It was risky, but it may just be worth it.

“Alright,” you confirm. Shanks grins heartily, smile lines becoming prominent around his eyes. You move your body so that it covers his front, and you start to slowly remove his cock from their breaches. Through his pants you can already feel how hard he was, pulsing through the material.

You pull your skirt up slightly and push your underwear to the side. You dip your fingers inside yourself, not surprised to feel that you were already wet. You lower yourself onto Shanks as he hisses, his cock throbbing as you slowly guide him inside of you.

Fully seated on his lap now, you adjust your skirt so that it covers where the two of you remain connected. 

“There we go,” he soothes. “Nice and full, huh?” You whine and give him a curt nod, trying to stop your body from reacting from the amount of pleasure surging through it at that moment. No one seems to notice what the two of you were doing, but it still sends a thrill down your spine.

You continue to kiss him as you clench down onto cock. He groans at the sensation, pleasing you even more. Shanks runs his hand down to your lower stomach, stroking the area.

“You feel me in there?”

His large hand continues to rub circles in the area, pressing down in spots that make you gasp. You can feel him in there—so much more than usual, now that he’s not pumping in and out. It feels more intimate with him like this, and you lean into his chest as your walls continue to tighten.

You begin to shift ever-so-slightly on top of Shanks and arch into him as he groans into your lips and stills your hips with his hand. “You’re killing me, baby.” 

You laugh, and your pussy clenches around him even more. 

“Won’t be able to last any longer,” he pants and burrows his face into your neck.

“Good,” you tease, smirking as you see his eyes heat up. His cock pulsates, and his orgasm is silent, the only indicator being the clench of his jaw and the slight quiver in his brow.

“Hey, I need some help over here!” Makino’s voice rings throughout the bar, and suddenly you’re brought back to reality, remembering just exactly where you were and what kind of situation you were in. You remove yourself from Shanks’ lap, shuddering at the sudden heat from him leaving your body.

“Coming!” You say, slapping Shanks in the leg as he snickers behind you.

You adjust your skirt, ignoring the cum that starts to leak out of you as you scurry to help Makino with the bar patrons. The whole time, you can feel Shanks’ eyes follow you.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

I never really made a request before so that's my first time wish u like it

So I was thinking about some fluff drunk y/n acting all stupid and flirty to bakugo who doesn't like drinking around her because he knows that they both won't have someone to send them home if they got drunk

[Secretly caring]

*Whispering* he also gets a bit touchy if she let's him

*friends to lovers thing*

Wish my explanation was good enough and can't wait for the next chapter of FBRC <3

OUUU this is such a cute idea ! i’m so happy, this is my first request as well so we both have a milestone LMAOOO ! i tried to honour your request as best i could ! <3 (OU and AAAAA im glad you like FBRC ! i hope you’ll keep reading !)

bakugou katsuki considers himself a mature, mostly rational person.

despite what others, media outlets and even his own damn friends might say, katsuki thinks he’s really not that bad.

sure, he’s flipped off a camera man, cursed out another one…and another one—but who doesn’t have a bad day once in a while ?

he’s changed since he was a kid, he doesn’t get set off as easy anymore most days. he’s learned to be more patient, a little more levelheaded. that’s at least something his shitty friends will tell you.

he’s changed from when he was a kid, he’s grown now. he’s a man.

but right now katsuki feels like smashing your head in with a brick.

"kah-su-kiiiiiiiii... m'sleeppyy" you whine, leaning against his shoulder.

katsuki doesn't regret a lot, but he sure as hell regrets accepting to go out for drinks with you. again. you had said something about 'celebrating getting a day off after a while'.

"never should've accepted goin' out with yer ass." he laments grumpily. despite the fact he says this every single time he goes out to drink with you, he never seems to learn his lesson. he never seems to want to learn his lesson.

truth is, katsuki has grown a lot since his UA days but one thing he hasn't outgrown is his giant rampant crush on you. it's embarrassing how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger, how easily you can get him to do whatever you want as long as you just asked him to.

he complains and grumbles about it but he'll never, ever, say no to you.

which is how he always, always, ends up in this predicament.

katsuki snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you sniffle.

"y-ya don't like.." you sniffle again " ya don't like hangin' out wif me ?"

fuck.

immediatly it's like a switch had been flipped. he moves his arm so he can wrap it around you and have you lean against his chest. you always got emotional when you were a little too drunk, that usually meant it was time to go.

"no—no, s'not that. i—" he sucks in a breath, cheeks heating up despite the fact he knows there's barely any chance you'll remember this. usually he'd remind you of your embarrassing drunk moments as revenge for making him take you home and taking care of your ass because you were too drunk to, but he'll refrain from mentioning this part.

"i do like hangin' out with you, dummy. quit talkin' stupid." he shushes you softly, unconsciously rubbing your arm comfortingly.

"b-but you said, you regretted goin' out wit me" you pout. fuck, you're cute. katsuki has to fight off the urge to lean down and kiss it away.

"i say a lot of stuff i don't always mean, sweets. you know that." he replies " 'f i didn't wanna hang out with ya, i wouldn't."

you hum pensively, leaning against his shoulder as you think. you smell like something sweet, he can't quite track down what it is, but it's making him dizzy. you've always had the ability to make him lose focus. you're so close and you smell so good and katsuki feels like he's drunk.

"mmyeah...guess that's true" you hiccup. you raise your hand up to trace his jaw line with your finger and he refuses to look at you but he can hear the cheeky little smile in your voice "you like hanging out with me, right ? that's why you always say yes when i ask !

he scoffs "i only say yes 'cuz i know you'd just end up goin' out anyway, you'd get yourself in trouble." he's stiff as a fucking board, he feels like if he moves a little too much he'll say something he shouldn't.

"no i wouldn't" you argue, then you reach your whole hand up to squeeze his cheeks "but even if i did, i know you'd come to save me, mr. dynamight" you giggle

he's so sick of you. katsuki's been in plenty of situations where he was this close to death, but he's certain you're gonna be the death of him.

"time for bed" he grumbles. he lifts you by your shoulders slightly until you can properly stand on your feet "m'getting you home, yer too drunk to be up right now" he asserts, chuckling when you pout at him when he flicks your forehead

"you're not the boss o' me ! 'm completely—oops" you trip forward but katsuki catches you with ease, he's always there to.

you look up at him innocently and he looks down at you with one eyebrow raised "you were sayin' ?" he sassed.

you roll your eyes at him and push off him slightly to stand more comfortably, you stick your tongue out at him. " i said—i'm fine..but if you wanna take me home that badly, i guess i'll allow it" you shrug. katsuki squints then shakes his head, smiling to himself. you catch him and giggle, he can't cover up his chuckle fast enough. you must look stupid to the other people in the bar just sitting there giggling at each other, he realizes. then he remembers he could honestly not give enough of a shit about what these other drunk losers thought, the only drunk loser he cared about was right here in his arms.

right where you belonged.

you're out like a light by the time katsuki's brought you back to your apartment, but he doesn't mind, he'd expected it anyway. he carries you like a sack of potatoes to your floor. he's glad he'd managed to grab your keys before you fell asleep, having to wrestle the keys from you and risk you getting cranky at him doesn't sound all that nice right now.

he helps you take off your shoes and he's extremely grateful you're just lucid enough to change by yourself. he helps you clean up and brush your teeth, then carries you to bed even though he knows damn well you could walk just fine. not before getting you to down a glass of water.

you're annoying when you're drunk and sleepy, you're whiny and everything is too much work for you. katsuki grumbles right along with you, calling you a pain in the ass, then promptly taking it back when he sees you tearing up again. he grumbles and complains but he knows he wouldn't let anyone else do it for him. not only because he's sure whoever it is wouldn't even be able to do this half as well as he does, but also because despite his better judgement, despite the fact you piss him off to no bounds, you're his to take care of. and he'd be damned if he let anyone else take care of what's his.

so you whine, and he complains, but he truly wouldn't have it any other way.

you insist on wanting him to stay with you and he knows he probably shouldn't. he likes you too much to just casually stay here with you, he knows he won't be able to sleep and he's just going to keep staring at your lashes fluttering as you dream. but you pout at him and plead him so sweetly, he really can't say no to you.

he likes you too much.

he steals one of your hoodies and a pair of sweatpants (he technically isn't stealing—since they're both his to begin with) and climbs into bed with you. you immediatly latch onto him, nuzzling into his shoulder before thanking him.

"for what ?" he mutters sleepily, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

"for.." you interrupt yourself with a yawn, he chuckles "for always takin' care of me..you're the best."

if you were more sober, he'd simply answer with a cocky "tell me something i don't know." but you're not and katsuki's already too far gone, so he squeezes your waist in appreciation then responds " i'm always gonna take care of you."

he's suprised by how soft and sappy he sounds but you suprise him even more when you lean up slightly to press a feather light kiss to the underside of his jaw and whisper a sweet little "love you."

he lays there for a good long while without response, you don't mind because you chose that exact moment to fall asleep. he lays there and he's sure he won't be able to fall asleep now. fuck you for knocking out and leaving him like this, he thinks. he's trying not to give himself false hope, maybe you meant it platonically. he keeps trying and he keeps thinking all night but he's still impossibly giddy.

he was contemplating not telling you anything about last night, but he can't help himself. he's nervous—god, he's so fucking nervous when you wake up while he's getting comfy in your kitchen like it was his, making breakfast. you look groggy and sleepy and hungover, but to him, you still look adorable.

when you're awake enough, munching away at the breakfast he's made, he tells you about last night and his heart slams against his chest when he mentions what you had told him.

though, when he sees how you choke on a piece of your toast, and how flustered you look, like a deer in headlights, his heart beats hard against his ribcage for a completely different reason.

the next time you go out for drinks, it's to celebrate the start of your relationship.

AAA first request done ! hope you liked this anon <3 if you guys have any request pleassseee lemme know !

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Don’t Call Me Kid - Aaron Hotchner

“don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.”

——

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Reader confesses their feelings for Hotch, they have an angsty yet adult conversation about it.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I was originally not going to give this a happy ending but I got too sad writing it and changed my mind, also yes i’ve been writing a lot don’t criticize me lol

TW: alcohol mention, angst, age gap, slight physical touch (all respectful, nothing sexual), slight implied daddy issues, fem reader

Rating: G

——

Aaron Hotchner was not a man one could approach without a level head. He was rational, always thinking of the most reasonable course of action, weighing every outcome before making any decision. He had to be, as hasty decision-making had cost him more than he cared to discuss.

You knew that, you’d worked under him for two years now and although he didn’t discuss his private life all that frequently at work, these weekly team meetups at the local bar taught you more than enough about him as a person. The usual stoic head of the team was kind, funny, encouraging, albeit a bit quiet until he knew you a bit better.

About a year into your time with the team you let slip that you’d never explored the city, and Rossi wasted no time letting Aaron know about it. A week later he was driving you around, explaining the history behind the popular monuments you had requested a visit to, then spending an hour at the Folger Shakespeare Library to admire the historic architecture and impressive selection of literature, and ending the day at the Moongate Garden, watching the sunset on a bench surrounded by cherry blossoms.

From that day you knew if there was anything you needed, all you had to do was ask. He’d shown you your favorite restaurant, the coffee shop you sat in every free morning you had, reading books he’d suggested you read. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had fallen hard for him, and over the last year those feelings became harder and harder to push down.

It was 2 a.m. and the bartender had announced last call, earning a disappointed groan from Penelope.

“We were just getting started!” She whined, her speech slightly slurred.

“You’ve had more than enough for tonight Babygirl, let’s get you home.” Derek caught her waist, steadying her as she rose from the booth the team had been sitting in.

“I better get going too, Will has to work early so I have to take Henry to school in the morning.” JJ added, playfully rolling her eyes.

The rest of the group finished up their drinks, wrapping up the current conversation before shuffling out of the bar. You said your goodbyes, giving parting hugs before pulling out your phone, ready to order yourself a rideshare home. Your cell service was almost non-existent and the app was taking forever to load, the chill in the air causing goosebumps to form on your bare legs. You raised your phone in the air, trying to gain a better signal as you walked back and forth in front of the bar, growing increasingly frustrated.

Aaron exited the bar as you made another pass by the entrance, tripping as your ankle wobbled in your heels. He was quick to catch you, helping you find your footing once more.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asked, offering you his suit jacket for warmth.

“I’m trying to order a taxi but the app won’t load.” Your frustration was evident, each tap of your finger against the glass of your smartphone just a little too firm.

“You don’t live far, correct? I can walk you home.” He offered, his hand still lingering on the small of your back to steady you. You weren’t drunk, not by a long shot, but you didn’t handle your liquor the best and although you were mostly there mentally, your center of gravity had been better.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.” You countered, always raised to decline at least once when offered anything to remain polite.

“I want to make sure you get home safe, it’s really no trouble.” You knew he was earnest, always such a father figure to every member of the team. You put your phone in your bag, throwing it over your shoulder before turning to walk down the street that led to your apartment building.

You walked in silence for a while, his hand hovering behind you just in case your clumsiness kicked in along your walk. His suit jacket was surprisingly warm, the stiff fabric shielding your bare arms from the cold. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen to wear a short sleeved blouse when it was nearing the end of fall, but you suspected it subconsciously had something to do with how well the v-neck showed off your cleavage. You felt a bit pathetic sometimes, finding any way you could to attempt to pull his attention. It never worked, Aaron respected you too much to stare at your figure no matter how provocatively you dressed.

After a few blocks your heel caught on a storm grate, making you stumble forward. His reflexes were impressive as ever, his arm reaching out to catch your waist.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.” You joked, straightening your skirt as you started again on your journey home. He didn’t say anything, but the slight smile his lips formed told you he found your try at humor in an awkward moment amusing.

“It’s just around this corner, I’ll be fine from here.” You tried to wave him off, dying to disappear into your apartment to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

“I’m walking you up to your apartment, I need to see you home safe.” He stated, turning the corner with you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, his domineering yet caring tone making your heart race. This was all becoming too much, the protectiveness, the slight touches, you could feel something burning in your chest, the urge to spill your guts growing stronger by the minute.

He waited for you to punch in the code to the front door of your apartment building before holding it open for you, following you to the elevator up to your floor. You took the quiet ride up, him continuing to follow you down the hallway to your apartment when the doors opened. You opened your bag, fiddling around for your keys for a moment before finding them, your hand shaking as you tried to unlock the door. You finally got it, pushing open the front door and stepping into your messy living room.

“How are you getting home?” You asked, setting your bag on the small table next to the door.

“I’ll order a taxi, I’m just glad you’re home safe.” He began to pull out his phone, and the liquid courage coursing through your veins told you to invite him in.

“Do you want to come in while you wait?” You offered, handing his suit coat back to him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and making sure to lock it, never too cautious.

He laid his suit coat over the back of your coach, taking a seat before taking out his phone again to order his ride.

“It won’t be ready for another 30 minutes, I hope I’m not overstaying my welcome.” He was far too courteous, and all you wanted to do was tell him how badly you wanted him to stay forever.

“You could never.” You told him, kicking off your heels before sitting next to him on the couch. You took a deep breath, trying to settle yourself as you picked up the book that was resting on your coffee table. You watched over the top of the pages to see him glancing around the room, scanning the contents until he stopped on the media console across the room. He stood from his place next to you and walked over to it, taking a knee to get down to the same level as your record collection.

“You have impressive taste.” He stated matter-of-factly, his long fingers brushing across the spines of each album. You gave a quiet ‘thank you’ as he began to pull a record out, and you placed your book down again to see what had caught his eye.

“I didn’t know you listened to The Beatles.” He held up the jacket of the band’s white album, looking to you in slight disbelief.

“Of course, The White Album is one of the greatest of all time.” You were excited to talk music with him, it was a topic you’d never discussed before and you were always eager to learn more about him. That may have been to your own detriment, because the more you learned about him, the harder you seemed to fall.

You knew a relationship between the two of you could never happen, he was your superior, not to mention twenty years your senior, but something felt like it was pulling you to him no matter how many guys you tried to distract yourself with.

“You never fail to surprise me.” He smiled, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling just so. You could’ve died right there, content to collapse into a puddle of yearning. You didn’t know what came over you, but you found yourself clearing your throat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you.

“Aaron, I have to tell you something.” Your voice shook, but you remained strong in your conviction.

His faint smile turned to a look of concern, quickly rising from his knee to join you on the couch again.

“What is it?” He questioned, brow furrowed as he angled his body toward you.

“I-It’s, nevermind.” That burst of adrenaline quickly faded, his eyes on you feeling like a cigarette burn.

“Y/N, whatever it is, you can trust me. I understand if you’re not comfortable telling me, but don’t let fear hold you back on my account.” He reassured you, resting his hand on your knee sympathetically. You had to do it, there was no way you could face him every day if you brushed him off without an explanation.

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, hanging your head, too afraid of what his reaction would be to dare look him in the eye. The silence that sat between you two felt like it carried on forever, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat, still holding his hand on your knee.

“Why do you feel that way?” He asked, trying to understand where this was coming from. He couldn’t deny that he had felt chemistry between you, but it wasn’t something he could ever entertain acting on.

“Over the last year I’ve gotten to know you in ways I never dreamed I would, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, even those I once thought I loved in the past. You’ve been so kind, Aaron, you’re an incredible friend, father, leader, how could I be anything but amazed by you?” You felt as though you were rambling, but he seemed so invested in your answer that you didn’t care if what you said was rational.

“I understand.” He confirmed, turning silent as the gears turned in his mind. You could tell he was fighting something internally, the look of concentration on his face seeming almost painful.

You pulled your knee out from under his hand, your nerves convinced that he was looking for a way to fire you without creating an HR nightmare. As quickly as you pulled away he had moved closer to you, his hand finding its place on your knee once more.

“Look at me.” He said, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. You did as you were told, tears threatening your waterline as you did your best to hold his gaze.

“I’m not going to lie to you, you are a very charming young woman and I’d be honored to pursue something more intimate with you, but we can’t. I’m your superior, and you’re young enough to be my daughter.” He explained, the pain in his expression serving to break your heart in two.

“I don’t care.” You were not thinking rationally in that moment, your heart speaking for you instead of your head.

“You should, this is your future.” His tone held frustration this time, finding your childish response disappointing.

“I am not a child Aaron, I can make my own decisions.” You told him, a tear slipping down your cheek as you grew increasingly frustrated with his stonewalling.

“I know that, but you’re young, you have so much to experience and you shouldn’t put that on hold for me, or anyone else for that matter.” Even through his anger he was just trying to steer you in the responsible direction, thinking more about your future than whatever desires he held.

“I have all I’ve ever wanted, my dream has always been to work for the FBI. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur, I never have. I want a job where I’m doing good and a family to come home to when all is said and done.” You explained, and it wasn’t a lie. It’s not that you weren’t driven, you clearly had to be to even make it to the bureau, but that was as far as you wanted your drive to take you.

“For this to work, I can not be your boss, and I won’t ask you to step down.” He continued evaluating each possible risk in your dynamic, and for once you were one step ahead of him.

“You don’t have to, I put in for a transfer to the financial crime unit last week.” You finally let the other secret you’d been keeping slip, and you watched his face drop in disappointment.

“The team is going to miss you more than you know.” He told you, wishing he had known so he could have convinced you otherwise.

“I know, but I couldn’t bare the thought of being around you every day while I feel like this, and I was fascinated by the way their team handled the case we partnered with them on last month. The timing felt right.” You explained, needing him to know that it was not his fault, but a conscious decision you made.

“I just want to try.” You pleaded one last time, hoping he’d let his walls down just this once.

“If this is really what you want, I’ll take you out next weekend. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to do it the right way, you deserve that much.” He gave in, letting himself do something personally risky for the first time in years.

“I would love that.” You agreed, all of the anger and frustration that had been building up over the last year finally starting to dissipate ever so slightly.

How it would pay off, only time would tell, but for now, you were content to just get to know him more and show him who you are the best you can.

——

Part 2 can be found here

Tag List: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or Aaron Hotchner taglist :)

[hurlingdown]

LET MY FINGERS DO THE TALKING — TOP! MALE! READER X TRAFALGAR LAW

synopsis. law can't figure out why you're ignoring him. yeah, he's aware that the both of you are in the middle of a party, in public, but he's drunk n' horny as fuck and he wants you so bad. it'll just be cruel not to give in to his demands! wc. 2.1k

tags. sub! ftm! law, service! top! reader. reader secretly fingers his pussy in public, exhibitionism, nothing too hardcore, established relationship, modern!au, some dirty talk, begging, dry humping, fingering law’s pussy: the fic

Parties could be tolerable, Law reluctantly admitted, if your boyfriend wasn’t currently ignoring you. 

The bar was filled with rowdy chatter, shitty college kids without any regard for their organs drinking themselves silly (cough cough, a certain red-haired money-loving witch and a one-eyed swordsman), dancing to some lacklustre pop song that had made a hit back in the late 2000s and never since. Law couldn’t even recall its name—it was a testament to how wasted he was. 

Anyhow, a party wasn't his usual definition of entertainment, but it was good enough of a distraction. Tolerable, per se. 

What the un-fun part of parties was, aside from his poor tolerance of alcohol, was that they distracted something else. You.

You had been intentionally ignoring him for the past twenty minutes, too absorbed with talking with your friends and having fun without him. And the worst part was, you were the one who invited him to this in the first place. Frankly, he wouldn’t care to be here if it wasn’t for you, and yet you weren’t even talking to him.

“Prude. Jerk. Bastard,” he cursed under his breath, downing his seventh cup of watered-down beer and crunching up the plastic before stalking over to where you were sitting. 

“Hey sweetheart.” You raised your head, greeting him with a smile, but that was all the acknowledgement he got before you turned back to your friends and started laughing about something Law was sure wasn’t more important than he was. 

Law was fucking pissed, drink and temper-wise. You were going to pay for your ignorance. 

Then again, climbing into your lap and whining into your ear wasn’t exactly the best way to get your attention nor execute his petty revenge, but Law was drunk and horny and anything but rational right now. 

He slung his arms around you, starting to kiss your neck wetly. “Y/n-ya,” he whined. He made sure to be quiet, loud enough for you to hear him over the music, but not enough that anyone else around you would. He smirked as he saw the tips of your ears redden, but that was all the response he got. 

Not giving up just yet, he moved to kiss and lick at the sensitive spot behind your ear, deliberately moaning softly as he did so, and that succeeded in making your breath stutter. 

Much to his displeasure, however, you placed one hand on his hip, squeezing lightly as though to express your disapproval. He frowned, wriggling to get closer to you on your lap. 

“Are you ignoring me?” he griped, slapping his hands on the sides of your face and forcing you to look at him. “Why are you ignoring me?” 

“Law,” you murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Not now.” 

He shook his head stubbornly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he started to grind down on you. “But I’m horny now,” he cried out. “Want you now.” 

“Later,” you whispered to Law, trying to keep him still, but he only bucked his hips against you harder. 

You blushed furiously, shooting your friends a pleading glance for them to leave. Thankfully, they got the memo, but they didn’t leave without making kissy faces and wolf whistles, to which you scowled at. 

Law, however, was too out of it to even register their departure. 

“Pleasee, y/n-ya.” He sucked a hickey onto your neck, trying his best to press every inch of himself against you. You seized in a breath, still pretending to be disinterested, but it was clear that your dick wanted something else with the way it strained painfully against your trousers. “Please, okay?” 

You were about to refuse again, but then his hand tightened around your wrist, guiding it to his crotch. You gave him a questioning look, but then he pushed your palm against his clothed cunt, rubbing it over the damp fabric, whining softly to let you know just how much he wanted this, needed this. 

You cursed under your breath, dizzy from the amount of blood rushing to your face. “Law… we can’t. Not here.” 

“Just a little bit,” he bargained, “I’ll be so good, y/n-ya.”  

You wanted so badly to just bend him over the counter and have your way with him, but you had the decency to remind yourself that you were currently in public. There were people all around you. Sure, most of them were too drunk out of their minds to notice or care, the music was blaring and it was dark enough to hide whatever would happen between the two of you, but that didn’t make this okay. 

You froze when you felt him slowly roll his hips, letting out little whimpers as he started to ride your hand.

“Mmpfh, ah, y/n-ya… y/n-ya,” he chanted your name between moans, one hand gripping your shoulder for leverage while the other crammed your hand against his pussy, using it like a sex toy. Law was looking at you with an obscene expression, eyes glazed over with pleasure and want and he looked so fucking good. 

Just a little, you found yourself thinking. Just a little would be okay, right? Right? 

“Pleasee,” Law whined, tears forming in his eyes, “I need it so so bad.” 

It wasn’t fair. No, it wasn’t fair at all. How could you ever say no to him when he was begging you like this? 

You were almost embarrassed by the way you felt your resolve crumble completely in a matter of seconds. “Okay, okay, fine. But you have to promise to behave. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it my way, yes?” 

He nodded dumbly, now moaning and whining quietly into your ear, mimicking the noises he would make in bed while you fucked him into the mattress. His hips shifted forward until he planted himself right on top of your hard-on, continuing to grab your hand and rub your thumb against his clit. “I want you inside me,” he gasped. “Wanna feel your hard cock inside—”  

You clamped your free hand over his mouth, heart going overdrive, and it was a miracle at this point but no one had overheard. That, or they were pretending not to have.

“I thought you were going to behave,” you hissed. “Just my fingers, and then I’ll give you anything you want when we get back home. Can you behave for me now?” 

Law whined a yes, pulling back to lick and suck at your fingers lewdly while you pulled down his zipper. His panties were drenched with slick—a clear sign of his arousal, and you stroked his entrance through the cloth, lightly dipping a finger inside.

“You’re so wet,” you breathed. “Does this turn you on? Doing it in public?” 

“No, no… ‘s all for you,” he moaned around your digits, “y/n-ya. S’wet only for you.” 

You exhaled shakily at his words, having not expected that. Drunk Law was dangerous, you realised. 

“Keep saying shit like that, and you’re going to get us caught,” you muttered, pushing his panties aside to reveal his soaked cunt. Fuck, he was so pretty, above and underneath. 

You rubbed your thumb in slow but meaningful circles on his clit as he whimpered and shuddered. “Don’t tease, hnn, just put it in already…” 

“Be patient.” You pushed a digit past his folds, the glide smooth and easy with slick coating his walls. You crooked your finger to loosen him up, sliding another one inside to feel out the filthy stretch. 

“More,” he demanded, rocking his hips to try in a futile attempt to take your fingers deeper. 

You pulled out the fingers he was sucking on with a wet ‘pop’ while continuing to scissor him lazily with your other hand. You reached under his shirt to fondle his chest, rolling his nipple between your spit-soaked fingers before giving it a sharp pinch.

“Y/n-ya…!” He jolted in your lap with a startled whine, head falling to rest on your shoulder. “Hngh, not so sudden…” 

You ignored his protests, murmuring into his ear, “Lower your voice or you won’t be getting any more than this. That is, unless you want them to hear.” 

Law shook his head, eyes blown wide with lust, and he stuffed the front of his shirt into his mouth to muffle his moans. He could be good for you when he needed to be.

Pleased by his reaction, you started to pump your fingers in and out of him. You set a slow yet consistent pace, and he tightened his hold on your shoulders every time you curled them. His thighs were trembling with the effort of holding himself back, trying his hardest not to grind back against you—it was almost cute how the threat of taking away what he wanted gave you so much power over him. 

“So good, baby,” you praised. “I think you deserve a reward for that. Do you?” 

“Yes,” he whined through the makeshift gag. “Please.” 

You grinned. He was being so obedient today, you couldn’t help but spoil him a little. Hand trailing down to grip his waist and hold him in place, you suddenly flicked your wrist upwards with your other hand, crushing the pads of your fingers directly against his sweet spot. 

Law jerked violently in your lap, sobbing out a profanity. His shirt had slipped from his lips, but you continued to rub incessantly at the same area, hearing him let out broken whine after whine through clenched teeth, legs shaking from the overstimulation. “S’good,” he slurred, “don’t stop, please, please—”

He wasn’t exactly being quiet and good like he promised, but seeing Law lose all semblance of control from being pleasured just by your fingers was such a turn-on that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop—the prospect of being seen only added to the excitement.

You started to pump your fingers faster, your other hand reaching down to play with his clit, pinching and massaging the nub as he wailed out. 

You were about to warn him about his volume, but then a sharp pain on your shoulder made you seize up—you realised he had bit you to smother his desperate noises. His walls were spasming around your fingers with every thrust, and even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew exactly how much of a fucked-out mess he looked like right now, had seen him lost in pleasure way too many times to count that the sight had engraved itself into your mind. 

Fuck. This was so hot.

“Are you close?” you asked, and he whined a yes, biting you harder in response. “Good. You’re so good. Kiss me, baby.” 

He complied, reeling back to clumsily press his lips against you, letting you kiss him wet and rough and hungry, swallowing his needy moans. “Close, close,” he panted, and you fucked your fingers into him harder, tongue slipping into his mouth as he responded to the kiss sloppily, drool trickling down his chin and neck. “I’m gonna cum, y/n-ya, please—” 

“Cum for me, Law.” 

Law shivered at the authoritative tone at the same time as you rammed your fingers into his sweet spot, hard. With a muffled cry, he clamped up tight, cumming all over your fingers. Warm milky liquid gushed out from his abused hole in a flood as his nails dug into your shoulders so hard you were sure they were going to leave crescent-shaped scars, and you groaned out as well.

You continued to rub his clit roughly, milking him throughout his orgasm while he twitched and spasmed, letting out a sobbing keen of your name as his pussy gave another weak spurt of cum. 

Exhausted, he slumped down into your arms, stretched cunt clenching around nothing. “Y/n-ya…” he panted.  

“Was that okay?” you murmured, worry creeping into your chest. It wasn’t your first time fingering him to completion and your sex life wasn’t particularly vanilla, but doing it in a public setting was still new to you and adventurous for your standards. 

Law gave you a tired look of disbelief. “I can’t feel my legs. Was that okay?” 

You laughed at his snarky tone, kissing his cheek as you zipped him back up. “I’ll carry you home and then I’ll make it up to you, yeah?” 

“Mm… you better.”  masterlist! # the gif (because fingers, get it? ok i’ll stop) anyhow this is my third time blue-balling reader hahahehah

[pure-smut]

adrenaline.

featuring: Togame Jo x f!reader

contains: fighting, blood, established relationship, public s*x, creampie, Togame is a bit feral

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

MDNI | 18+ content

Togame Jo is the sleepiest, most relaxed boyfriend you’ve ever had.

You’ve been together for six months and it took you a while to get used to his slower pace, his long drawl, his delayed responses. But now you love it – you love that he gives you a second to think clearly before you speak or lets you breathe before a spiral.

You’re used to seeing him pad around your apartment in nothing but sweatpants, slung low to expose the cut of muscle on his hips. You’ll never get bored of watching him, his sleepy yawns and stretches, the muscles in his back moving hypnotically. And when he climbs back into bed, pressing languid kisses against your lips, his hips stirring as he grinds into you, you know you could happily stay at this pace forever.

It takes another two months before you see a different side to Togame.

You’re walking home hand-in-hand from the cinema. It was a late showing and most of the street is crowded with boisterous party-goers, drunk men standing in clumps outside of the pubs and bars.

It used to make you nervous, walking this late at night, but Togame’s large presence next to you is reassuring. You know he’s second-in-command at Shishitoren so the rational side of your brain assumes he knows how to fight, how to defend himself and other people. But it’s at odds with the Togame you know, who wears a lazy grin and takes an additional five seconds to register a sentence. So you clutch his hand a little tighter.

A group of men stare at you as you walk past. You can feel their eyes like lasers on you, despite keeping your own gaze firmly ahead. They’re not Shishitoren, not wearing the signature yellow jackets, so you’re already unsettled by their looks.

Don’t say anything, you chant inside your head, as if they can hear you. Please don’t say anything.

“Hey, sexy!” one of them calls, his friends laughing and whistling.

You grimace, stepping closer to Togame.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” he calls again and some of the others join in.

“We just wanna talk, baby!”

“Leave that scrub behind and come over here!”

You try to keep walking, keep ignoring them, but Togame stops still. When you look up at him, the smile you know so well is gone from his face. He’s staring back at the men with hard green eyes, his jaw set, as they continue to catcall.

“Jo…”

Togame looks back down at you, his face softening. He points at a nearby alleyway, empty of people.

“Go wait over there for me, sweetheart,” he says. “You don’t need to see.”

You nervously glance between him and the group of men. There’s at least six of them.

“Will you be okay?” you ask, gripping his hand. He gives you a grin, a sliver of the old Togame returning.

“Yeah,” he says and his voice is solid.

With a last squeeze of his hand, you scurry over to the alleyway. Even as you hurry away, you hear one of the men laugh, “What’re you gonna do against six of-”. He’s cut off by a sickening crunch. You turn into the alleyway, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard.

You’re too scared to look but all you can hear is a symphony of yelps and cries, “oof!” and “aah!” and the sound of glass breaking. You only chance a peek when you hear the scuffle of several feet and see the group of men running away, screaming.

Your mouth drops open to see Togame standing there, not even out of breath.

“Jo…?” you squeak.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He crosses the street to meet you in the alleyway, pulling you deeper inside. “It’s okay.”

Togame reaches out for you and you see the blood on his knuckles, the skin torn away. You suck in a breath at the sight of it and Togame tips his hands, facing them palm up so you don’t have to see.

Your eyes meet his. There’s a mark high on his cheekbone where someone landed a hit but he’s otherwise untouched. You breathe out a sigh of relief and step into his arms.

Togame wraps you in a bear hug, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he whispers. “I’ll always be okay.”

You pull back slightly to look at him. Now you’re closer, you can see the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes. His pupils are blown out and there’s something about him that looks… intense.

Togame dips his head to kiss you and it’s not his usual lazy pace. This time he kisses you hard, his tongue invading your mouth and his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He hugs you tighter, holding you flush to his body, and it’s then you feel the bulge he’s harbouring.

Togame pulls you deeper into the alleyway, into the shadows, and presses you against the wall. He’s breathing hard, his hands grabbing at you, pushing under your skirt to tug your panties down.

You’re pretty sure no one can see you here, cloaked in darkness, but you can hear the buzz of the crowd only a few feet away. It doesn’t seem to bother Togame who’s already grabbing your thigh to lift it, spreading your legs.

“Jo?” Your voice is tentative, unsure, but when Togame dips his fingers between your folds, he finds you already slick.

“I need this,” he breathes. “I need you.”

As soon as you nod, Togame starts sucking rough kisses against your neck. His movements are frantic, desperate, as he tugs his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. You only have a second to feel his fat mushroom tip nudging past your lips before he presses inside you, stretching your ill-prepped hole.

You cry out and Togame claps a hand over your mouth, silencing you. His other hand is under your ass, holding you up as he slides deeper inside you. He wastes no time, not giving you a moment to adjust before he starts to pump in and out of you.

“Stay quiet for me, baby, okay?” he says hoarsely in your ear.

You nod and he lets his hand fall away from your face, pressing his lips against yours instead. His cock drags against yours walls so deliciously and every slam sends a jolt from your clit through your body. You gasp into his mouth to stop from moaning.

Togame tips his head back, eyes closed and face twisted in pleasure. You feel so hot, so wet, so fucking good. He likes to take his time with you, to savour you properly, but not right now. Right now, he needs to fuck, needs to take you hard and fast and dirty.

Adrenaline courses through his veins from the fight and he takes it out on your pussy.

Feral, you think as he tips forward to grunt against your neck. Animalistic.

His cock rubs against all the right spots inside you. That, combined with being forced to stay quiet and the ruckus of the public only feet away, fills you with a thrill. Togame is taking you, needing you so badly he can’t wait for home. He needs you now. The thought only urges you towards an orgasm, your walls clamping down around him.

“That’s it, baby, milk my cock,” Togame groans as he feels your slick pussy squeeze him. “Take my load like a good girl, yeah?”

You whimper quietly, holding tight onto Togame to stop from crying out as a wave of pleasure consumes you. Your thighs tighten around him, your forehead on his shoulder as you cream silently on his cock.

Togame’s movements start to stutter, his breathing turning ragged in your ear. He bites his bottom lip so hard he tastes blood, burying his cock in you. You feel him cum, a hot, sticky flood inside you as Togame grunts softly. He gives a few more shallow pumps before pulling free.

Togame lets his head fall forward on your shoulder, breathing hard.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I just really needed that.”

“It’s okay, Jo.” You press soft kisses against his temple. “I didn’t mind.”

Togame gives you his usual grin, his eyes soft again. You reach up to kiss him, feeling his languid pace return.

“But,” you say, matching his grin. “I might start hanging around after your fights more often.”

masterlist

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[harstyle]

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now. 

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered. 

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself.  Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?” 

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum. 

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?” 

“Of course.” 

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.” 

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke,  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

 “Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?!  I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone:  “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight.  “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”  

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts.  Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat.  He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.  

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

--

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

[earthtooz]

x : HEART LIKE YOURS :*+ﾟ

in which: rin is drunk and incredibly infatuated with you. so much so, that he wonders what he did to deserve someone like you.

warnings: 1.1k wc fluff, minor angst, rin is a little insecure + fully drunk, he definitely has fallen harder for you btw, gn!reader, isagi cameo, deep metaphors or whatever idk i'm writing this depraved of itoshi rin.

a/n: kaneshiro bring rin to me this instant or i will go wild.

Itoshi Rin is in love. He is so in love that it makes him feel sick and woozy and dazed and he doesn’t know when the world will be able to stop spinning on itself, but somehow, his feet have taken him to your apartment. Excitement rests at the bottom of his stomach at the prospect of seeing you, yet a locked door is the only barricade that prevents him from seeing you, and Rin wonders if it was rational of him to kick it down. 

Just to see you, beautiful, enchanting, flawless you. What would you be doing at 1am on a Friday night- or is it Saturday morning? 

“Oh, hey guys.” Your voice echoes through his mind, sounding distant yet so close at the same time that it causes him to look up from the floor. Although his vision is hazy and his eyes are a minute away from drooping closed completely, he sees through the thick of it. You are clear and radiant in the centre of his attention, just as you always are. 

Before he can spout the words that his lovesick heart longs to express, a voice beside him interrupts, sounding like someone similar to Isagi. Rin thinks he should shut his mouth because how could he care about stupid, lukewarm Isagi when you’re right in front of him, though? 

“He’s drunk and asking for you,” Isagi excuses. 

“I’m not drunk,” pours from Rin’s mouth instead, grumbled and petulant. He hears a giggle slip from you and instantly, his gaze returns to you, owl-like and unwavering.

“Come on in then, thank you for bringing him here, Isagi,” you say and Rin vaguely feels himself moving into your space. Your scent floods into his senses to give him a rush of euphoria; a sensation that only intensifies when he hears the door click close and feels your hands run through his hair.

He’s on your couch, slumped over your pillows, melting into your touch, and devastatingly in love as the manifestation of all his affections and desires stands in front of him, blissfully unaware of the turbulence in his heart. Do you know? Do you know what you do to him? How you make his heart beat with enough might to light up the city? How he finds himself tripping over his own feet just to make sure that it’s him by your side and not some other lukewarm idiot?

“Rin, wake up,” your voice gently breathes and like sheep, he can’t do anything but obey. “Looks like you had a big night. Are you tired, baby?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, deceivingly apathetic as your hand settles on his cheek. Here, you push him a little to look at you, displaying his flushed face and slightly-flattened hair to you. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, gotta make sure you’re not too intoxicated.”

The athlete persists, “I’m not drunk.” I’m happy, he thinks. 

“I’m so sure,” you laugh him and his love off and a part of him lurches with the need to prove it to you. “I’ll get some water, sit tight and I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me behind,” Rin demands, voice sounding out like a whine, much to his chagrin because he very much means it. But you’re laughing and you don’t think that he’s being serious. You’re laughing whilst he’s practically tearing at the seams, unable to hold back the love he feels for you lest it drowns him. 

“I’ll be gone for ten seconds top.”

“Ten seconds too long,” retaliates the sulky dark-haired. “I don’t need water, I need you.” 

When Rin is drunk, the alcohol fills him with courage to say things that he never could have otherwise. If he could see straight without needing to concentrate on doing so, he would have witnessed the dumbstruck smile on your face, completely and utterly enamoured with the cold and calculating soccer player. 

If someone had told you that the Itoshi Rin would be acting like a fool on your couch in the future, you would have laughed in their face and walked off. Yet it seems like you’re the fool now.

“Saying you don’t need water is a bit of an exaggeration. Just let me get you a cup and I’ll be right back.”

Rin’s hand latches on to your wrist, so strong and unrelenting that he doesn’t know why you don’t pull yourself away from him, to put space in between you and something so wretched, but he doesn’t complain as his thumb caresses your bone. “I’ll come with you then.”

“You won’t.”

“I will.”

“You won’t.”

He is stupid enough to stand up, determined and alive, whilst you’re panicked and worried, exclaiming at Rin to sit back down and not be so brash. You manage to placate him when you tell him that you won’t leave and instead, take the spot next to him on the couch, legs pressed together whilst his hand still encompasses yours.

Oh, to be with you til the end of time. 

“I take it that you had a good time with the boys tonight?” You ask, making small talk to kill the time. “Seems like you went quite overboard.”

“I’m better now that I’m with you,” he hiccups, blinking slowly as his gaze never falters from you. “Prefer you… over some idiots.”

You laugh, throwing your head back against the cushions and Rin wishes he had a camera to capture this moment and tuck it in the crevices of his heart. 

Truthfully, Rin had gone out tonight to soothe the heartache that your love for him made him feel, for what had he done to deserve it? He has you in his life and he finds that the most remarkable feat, above all his trophies, numerous World-Class achievements, and other accomplishments that make him the famous Itoshi Rin. Falling for you was as natural as scoring a goal, but you choosing him was not. 

Itoshi Rin is unpleasant. All bite, sneers, and crude language with no softness to mould space for anyone to come into his life- until you. But what is stopping you from finding someone else who could do that too? Not only that, but could do it better than him? 

“I love you.”

It’s a soft confession, not at all dramatic or showy as the three words diminish in the atmosphere. The fleetingness causes something restless to settle deep in Rin’s gut, thrashing and wild because the magnitude of his affection for you could never be expressed in merely three words. However, the way your eyes light up will forever be ingrained in his mind as you whisper back a soft ‘I love you, too’, taming the turmoil with overwhelming ease. 

Then, the best thing ever happens: you throw your arms around him, warming him inside out with your touch. Naturally, the athlete circles himself around you too and he fears the day that he has to let go, but until that moment comes, his heart rests peacefully with you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[victoria-grimesss]

locked on target

masterlist

->Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

->Words: 4.7k

->Warning: MDNI! unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, mask stays partially on, dirty talk.

->Summary: Working alongside the 141 for a year now, you’ve grown closer to the infamous ghost. Confiding in Soap about your crush, confession is the only way to rid yourself of the gnawing infatuation. 

->A/N: Despite all my writing being about König, ghost is my all time favorite baby girl, writing for him always intimidated me but I’ll give it my best shot, hope he’s not too OOC.

It’s been a full year on the 141 and you couldn't be happier, well not happy at the moment since you’re ankle deep in sludge. This mission is going as well as any other despite the evac being miles away through humid weather and wet ground. 

“Good thing I packed extra socks.” You muttered, readjusting your gun and pack and unsticking your boot from a deep pocket of mud.

“Oh come on lass it could be worse right? We could be treading through anaconda infested waters huh? Lighten up.” Soap is next to you. He's having an easier time removing his boots from the muck. 

Price is in the front with Gaz next to him talking about the evac and rations, you admire their relationship. Price has slowly morphed into some kind of a father figure to you as you assume he did for Gaz too or at least a mentor. Gaz and Soap are like brothers to you, you bicker like such. You pick on Soap when he gets too drunk to form correct sentences and starts singing songs from his childhood, and you get Gaz too when he laughs so hard you have to remind him to breathe. Like a dynamic triangle the three of you.

Then there’s Ghost.

He stands at the back of the group behind you and Soap, no evident trouble for him when it comes to the mud. He’s sturdy and observant, keeping a close eye on the treeline and behind the group. He's a great soldier and you admire his skills… and him. Ever since you met him you’ve had your eyes trained. 

I mean who wouldn’t.

From his expressive eyes which sometimes you feel look through you, to his broad shoulders where he holds the world on top of them, his strong arms that deal with enemies swifty, to…his… lower extremities that you certainly have only thought of once or twice. Maybe more. 

You should be ashamed of your feelings, and you lock them down deep the only time they have slipped past your lips is when too much alcohol loosens them. 

—

You confessed one night to soap, the rest were asleep and your insomnia was kicking your ass so you went to the parking lot where soap was nursing a bottle on the hood of his car, and you sat down and shared it.

“Something on your mind bonnie?” He hands the bottle to you, concern brewing in him.

“I don’t know, it’s just, Ghost.”

He laughs.

“Yea, I know about him, but what about him?” 

You take a couple large gulps of the amber liquid, it burns its way down and soothes your aching wanting heart, burying the hopeless romantic in you. Tears brew in your eyes and you always forget you either become a laughing drunk or a sappy drunk, seems the latter had won tonight.

“Aye- lass, what's wrong.” His hand is placed on your shoulder offering a comforting touch.

You sob and laugh at the same time, looking up at Soap.

“I think I’m in love with him.” You say quietly through a stream of tears that make their way into your mouth, making a weird cocktail of salty liquor.

“Oh bonnie…” Soap rubs your back, his voice is soft.

“I just, everything about him Johnny! I can’t get him out of my head, and he probably doesn't even look at me that way, he could get any girl he wanted!” You sob.

“Woah there calm down, gonna throw yourself into a spell talking like this. Look. LT cares about ya, truly. He thinks you’re a valued member of the team and I’ve caught him starin’ a few times so don’t be daft now ya hear. You’re a pretty girl and LT would be lucky to have ya.”

You sniff, wiping the tears and snot with a sleeve.

“Really? You think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope ta die. You’ll be alright.”

—

“It’s in my shoes.” You deadpan.

You hear Gaz laugh and Price looks back, checking on the team.

“Don’t worry Y/N, just imagine it’s a mud bath! Your skin will be smooth and shiny before you know it!” Soap laughs at Gaz’s antics, it’s nice when you can all joke around and relax. The hard part is over and now it’s simple evac.

“Right… how soothing.” Your eyes roll and you look back to check on Ghost, your eyes meet and a flash of electric lightning shoots to your heart, it feels good. 

He gives a quick nod and you return to your trudging. You wait till after the mission to pass any other signals, he’s too focused to register any flirting right now. Or that's the advice Soap gave you after that night.

“Right. Keep close by, chopper is land down in 5, need to evac quickly to avoid any unwanted looks.” Price alerts to the rest of the team once you’ve covered ground and are nearing sweet release. Your back and knees ache just at the thought of sitting. You nurse the last of your water and keep walking, you tip your bottle back along with your head to get the remaining drops and you trip over a protruding root.

Other foot trying to catch yourself a hand catches on your upper arm, righting you up.

“Alright there?” Ghost’s dark eyes are steady on you, maybe a bit amused, or maybe his eye paint is creasing.

“Yea, sorry just tryna finish off the bottle, didn't see that there.”

“Careful next time yea?” He releases your arm and waits for you to start walking again to pick up behind you.

“Yea, for sure LT.”

You feel his hand on your arm even after he released you and you want to untie the knot that Ghost has tied there and you know you’re royally fucked.

You’re all on the chopper and your legs just about give out, you always love the euphoric feeling of sitting down after a mission like this, the lactic acid in your muscles making them burn like no other. You sit across from Ghost and he visibly relaxes once the chopped takes off, the breeze from the open doors cooling everyone immensely.

“Good work everyone, I know evac was shit but you all hustled and we got the intel we needed. I think we all deserve a good ol drink when we get back right?” 

Price brings a smile to everyone's face, as tired as the lot of us are. You glance over at Ghost and his eyes look away from you, looking over his gear.

Your heart pains for some kind of acknowledgment that he feels the same, it’s like trying to hold the same fistful of sand no matter how hard you try it seeps through your fingers, you want him so badly you’d tape your fist shut if that meant keeping the sand in.

—

Back to base, ‘same day different shit’ you heard Ghost say one time. You often hold on to everything he says, hoarding each little piece he feeds you and storing it away somewhere special. Like you’re hoarding food for the winter, as if the winter is him falling in love with a woman that isn't you, when that happens you’ll open your little box of his sayings and advice and eat them slowly, savor them until all that’s left to drink is the tears you drown yourself in as consolation. 

A pity party is what you throw yourself that night, showering and getting a once over by the medic then making your way back to your room, Price wants to get everyone together tomorrow night for a drink, wouldn't hurt you think. You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence is deafening after a mission, tinnitus ringing your ears. The bed is cold, you want someone to warm it, you want Ghost to warm it.

The nightmares come to you quickly that night, visions of your team, your friends being ripped apart by bullets as you try to fire back into mist. You hold Ghost’s hand as he fades and you wake up coated in cold sweat and adrenaline.

3:18 a.m.

You toss and turn for a minute before huffing and leaving the bed, you need air. Adorned in sweatpants and a shirt you got on recruitment day you leave your room the sound of your door is loud and you wince as it closes. You go to the parking lot once more, maybe there will be more stars out tonight. 

The air is crisp and cool, you round the corner of the building where a bench sits, a lone figure is sitting and smoking there, you can tell it’s him by his silhouette. He’s broad and his legs spread wide as he sits alone.

“This seat taken?” You ask, scared if you talk too loud he’ll leave.

“All yours” No inflection is evident in his tone.

Silence sits between you two and you take a harsh breath to break it. It makes you uncomfortable. 

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is deep and low.

“The usual, nightmares again. You?” 

“Not tired, too soon after the mission to sleep.”

“I understand.” 

You watch him carefully as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, you inhale with him. You imagine him inhaling your perfume as his lips touch your neck. You stare, unabashedly, like you’re not scared if he catches you.

He adjusts where he sits, hips rolling to get more comfortable.

“Bloody bench feels like it’s made of spikes.” He mutters, quietly.

You breathe out a laugh as he exhales the smoke.

His eyes look to the side at you and then forward again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you want something from me.”

“What if I do?” 

Your heart is racing now, faster than it had on any given mission.

He stands, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot, he slips his mask down again and his eyes are locked on you.

“I’d say you’d better fuckin’ find it elsewhere, we both know I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want Simon?” 

His lips grow sealed when you say his name.

“Things I’m incapable of providing, best leave it at that. Night sergeant.”

His tone meant business, you know better than to chase after him. You sit on the bench, staring at the cigarette on the ground. It’s beaten and crushed like you feel right now.

You wonder if you can still taste his lips on it.

The walk of shame back to your room is humiliating, you pass some others that can’t sleep, nightmares aren't anything special around here and you wish you could pluck the worries from their heads.

Sleep is easy after that, maybe your body wants to make you forget the encounter with him but even so you dream of him. He’s an inescapable phantom.

—

“Aye there she is!!” Soap hollers from across the pub, it’s a quaint place, quiet enough to not be annoying but lively enough to not feel desolate.

A large corner booth is what they occupy and you wave as you make your way over, A few empty glasses scatter the table already you arrived ‘fashionably late’.

“Hey bonnie I gotta take a leak you can have my seat yea?” He nudges Ghost so he can be let out of the booth, Ghost stands towering over you. Soap shuffles over to the bathroom and Ghost  lets you slide into the booth before he follows, trapped between the wall and him. You’d rather be under him…

You greet them all and Gaz slides you a tall glass of something mind numbing, Ghost has his mask down but he’s nearly finished with his glass same with the rest of them.

“You got some catching up to do, miss fashionably late.” Gaz shoots a smile and you clink your glasses together.

Soap meanders back and pulls a chair to sit at the end of the table, you all squabble over what a better drink is and down rounds after rounds. The conversation somehow gravitates to relationships at some point and Soap is going on and on about this woman he met at the pub down the street.

“Oh she’s a real sweetheart, thinking about asking her out later this week when I get the balls to do it.”

You smile at the way Soap talks about her, you’d love to be admired like that, treasured.

“I think you should go for it Johnny! You're a nice guy, I can go in there and talk you up if you want, say you fought off ten men to save my life.”

He laughs, nearly tipping off his chair, 

“You’re a real wingman Y/N, if you can secure a date by all means.”

You smile and the air is joyous, little is heard from Ghost but you know he likes seeing the team happy, he sips his drink and observes, smiles hidden by his mask.

“Have you had any luck on the dating scene Y/N?” 

Gaz questions, eyebrows rising.

“Yea bonnie, never hear a peep out of you when we talk about lovey dovey shit.”

You shrug, taking strong sips of your drink.

“I went on a date a while back, he got me flowers, a real nice guy. Found out he was sleeping with my friend behind my back around the fourth date. Don’t really want to try anymore, end of story.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning into you as you finish the sentence. His gaze is addicting and you feel sweaty locked in his stare.

“Well he’s a proper twat for messing it up with you then yea?” 

Price offers a tip of his head, sympathy in his eyes.

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll just wait for my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet.” You bat your lashes dramatically and fake a swoon, soothing the old memory with jokes. It turns the tide of the table ambiance to a lighter one.

“I need to piss.” Ghost says quickly, you scoot out of the seat and Ghost hurries off to where Johnny has gone to earlier.

“What’s up his arse?” Gaz says confused.

Price downs the last of his drink and slams it back onto the table.

“What do you all say to a game of pool?”

“I’ll watch, cheer ya’ll on.” You still nurse your drink and you start to buzz, worries slipping away like papers, but one it left, weighted down with a large paperweight.

“I’ll be right there, gonna finish this drink off.” Soap says, sloshing the leftover liquid that's in his glass.

“Very well, see you momentarily.”

Soap watched the two walk off, leaving the two of you left alone.

He turns back quickly, you get secondhand whiplash.

“Ghost has had his eyes on you the whole night please tell me you told him and he confesses his secret love for you!” Soaps eyes are huge and he’s pleading for the right answer.

“Not exactly.” He delfates.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“I told him that I kinda wanted him and he said he wouldn't be able to give me what I want.”

“That's bollocks and you know it! He’s always watching you, never seen him doing that for any other lass. Now is the time, he’s all alone. Go on and chat him up, I’ll tell the boys you’ve gone home sick alright.” 

Soap winks and leaves before you can utter another word. You even your breathing and gulp down the rest of the liquid courage before strolling over to the bathroom hallway. It does not take guys that long to pee weird he's not around.

You walk outside, feeling deja vu from last night the breeze hits the same way.

“You should go inside, it’s cold out.” Ghost is standing leaned up against the brick wall next to the door.

“I was looking for you actually.”

He stands up straighter, shoulders held further.

“Lads looking? Not really in the mood to lose another game. Last time was enough.”

You laugh, the alcohol making it easier to relax around him. You're tipsy enough to have fake confidence for the time being but sober enough to make deductions wisely.

“No Simon, I’m looking. For you.”

“And I told you to stop, you don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re a nice girl yea? Find a nice young guy that can take you on dates and buy you flowers-

“I don’t want anyone else Simon. I want you because I’m in love with you!”

It seems like the whole world went silent after you said that. You’re steaming and don’t move your eyes away from him.

“Y/N.”

“I’m tired of pretending. I just had to tell you I couldn't hold it in any longer it was making me sick. I don’t care about fancy stuff, you should know that by now. I just want to be next to you.”

He approaches you, your neck craning to maintain contact.

“Y/N, I’m proper fucked up you know that? You’re too kind, too perfect to be ruined by a man like me.”

You sniff, the cold getting to you.

“I think you’re wonderful Simon really. You look out for everyone and make sure everyone is alright before looking after yourself. Let me please show you you’re worth loving in return.”

Your heart spills to him, spewing it’s contents violently.

“I’m not joking, I'm not ‘prince charming’ like you referenced earlier.”

“Even better.” You smile.

“Fuck it.”

Before you know it, he lifted the small portion of his mask to kiss you and you erupt, wrapping your arms securely around his neck as though you’ll fall if you don’t. His hands hover over your waist and you grab them and push them down onto your body and he pulls you close. He kisses you like it’s the last time, he makes up for all the times he should have, all the time he desperately wanted to.

He’s watched from afar for so long, your laugh creates sparks in his heart, seeing you make it back from another mission safely spurs him on. He would lay down his life for you and you don’t even know it.

He pulled back, mouth in the crook of your neck.

“Your place is nearby right?” You ask, rubbing his neck and down his back.

“Yea, yea it is.”

He leads you back, back to his den where he’ll draw you in with those eyes and that voice, calloused hands exposed from his gloves that will trace over your skin. The walk is in silence but you both are buzzing, the team won’t miss you, probably happy this chasing game is over with so peace can be established once more. He takes your hand as he leads you up the steps to his apartment, you grope his arm and he shoots you a sultry side-eye.

“Have I ever told you I love your arms?”

“You did just now love.”

Love, love, love. You want him to keep saying it.

He leads you in you’re caged in by his arms on the inside of the door. He looks you over head to toe.

“You look fuckin lovely tonight you know that? All I’ve been thinking about is tearing this top off of you and stripping you down.”

You shiver and bring your hands to run carefully from his abdomen up to his chest.

“You think of ripping my clothes off frequently?”

“Very.”

Stunned by his words and your head swimming he places his hands on your waist and lowers his head to your ear.

“Now if you’d allow me, I’d like to fuck you now.”

Hypnotized you speak.

“Yes please.”

His home is lowly lit and sparsely decorated, you assume he’s not here often or for long.

The bedroom is simple, a bed, two side tables, two lamps, and a dresser. An adjacent bathroom you can’t see.

“You have a nice place.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.”

You stand at the edge of the bed and he stands before you and his hands are on you again pushing you onto the bed you are surrounded by the smell of him, the deep umber and woodsy scent. 

“You know how many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

He’s inching your pants down your hips agonizingly slow as he speaks.

“How many times I fucked myself picturing you instead?”

“Ghost.”

“Nah none of that here, you’re gonna say my real name from now on and you’re gonna scream it alright?”

“Fuck Simon.”

“Yea. Just. Like. That.” Your pants are off and his hands move from your ankles up to your knees and caress to your inner thighs. His fingers skate your pantyline and your eyes are locked on his hand and he doesn't stop. His hands move over your hips and grip your waist before moving right below your breasts, he checks you with his eyes and you plead silently.

He cups you fully with both hands and you roll your head savoring his feelings.

“So fucking good love fuck.”

He strips you of your shirt and bra and you’re left exposed on his bed. He stands back to stare down upon you and you feel like a spread of food sitting on a stark white table ready to be consumed and ogled. He strips himself of his leather jacket leaving his quite form fitting black tee on.

You adjust under his gaze, his mask hides any expression but his eyes say so much. Raking over your body heavily and his chest rising and falling fast as though he had run a marathon.

“Simon.”

“Yea?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?” His voice is lighter now.

“Anything Simon!”

He laughs and places a knee in between your legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his other leg and hips.

“There we go, fuck all spread out underneath me.”

His hand is placed on your breast and rolls your nipples in his fingers, it moves down never leaving your skin until he reaches your core it’s hot and wet and he collects it on his fingers and when he finally touches you it’s like you’ve reached Valhalla. 

He slips a finger inside and it faces no resistance, you form around him and he slips in another starting a smooth rhythm.

“So tight, you think you’ll be able to take me huh love?” 

He’s pumping in you and you can hear how wet he’s made you, his eyes darting from his fingers to your face, thrown into pleasure.

He brings you to your peak so quickly you’re stunned and you grip his arm as you clench around him, his name being pulled from you like a mantra.

 You regain your mind and look at him as he slips from you and his fingers make their way under his mask, his eyes on your as he licks them clean tasting you on him.

“Sweetest fucking thing I ever tasted.”

He’s unbuckling his belt next, unzips his pants and pulls himself free. He's thick as all hell and a thick vein runs down the underside. It looks heavy and you pocket an idea for next time.

You're staring for a long time and his two fingers that just did unspeakable things to you tip your chin to look at him.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I can take it, just hurry up.”

“You’re always so impatient you know that.”

He places the tip at your entrance collecting your wetness to help with the initial push.

The stretch is delicious and you grip his arm and shoulder gasping at the feeling of being full of him.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so fucking good.”

His one arm is braced at the side of your head, forearm spattered with tattoos burning your peripheral vision. The other holds himself, leading himself into you.

He’s seated fully inside and you feel split down the middle in the best way. Burning fire deep within you and you moan for him to move, creating the friction you need.

He starts moving and you both moan, he tips his head forward to watch where he enters you repeatedly.

“So good, fuck so big Simon.”

“You take it so well, love.”

His hand that once gripped himself holds your hip and moves himself like the ocean, fluid and rhythmic.

“Always dreamt about fucking you, you spread out of my bed while I fuck my cock deep into you.”

You throw your head back and he leans back, the warm air that was between you two leaving for the cold air of the room bringing your nipples to hard peaks which his eyes gravitate to.

“Alright c’mon love.”

He takes your ankles and your legs are on his shoulders. He thrusts that much deeper and hits the right spot to make you see spots.

“You like that, fuck I can see how deep I’m going in you.” 

His hand finds your and puts it on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can feel the way he thrusts within you and how deep he reaches, you clench around him.

“Yea you like that.” He's cocky like this, dominant and all controlling. You’re putty in his hand.

“Simon I’m close don't stop please, fuck please.”

He lifts his mask up over his lips and kisses your ankle, biting your calf when he growls and that's all you need to be pushed over the edge.

“Fuck, yea cum on my cock good fucking girl.”

He fucks you through it and leans down to be face to face again. Your legs draped over his shoulders and he hits the right spot with each thrust now, he’s battering you into the mattress and his growling with each thrust muttering about how good you feel and how nicely you wrap about him.

You claw at his chest through his shirt sobbing and babbling and moaning.

“Can’t even form a proper sentence, so drunk on my cock yea? You gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?”

The graphic noises from where the two of you are joining echos through the room and you hope his neighbors aren't home.

“Yes, yes Simon please please please.”

The bed is an orchestra of noises and he shoots a hand up to the headboard, his knuckles gone white from gripping it so hard. Your abdomen is tight, so tight and your so fucking close you just want to cum at the same time as him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so tight and wet where do you want me to cum, fucking tell me.”

“Inside me, inside me it’s safe.”

Not a beat after that leaves your mouth he’s seating himself so deep within you, you feel him throbbing deep within you and your vision goes blurry, ears gone fuzzy as you both are thrown into the abyss at the same time. 

You hear a crack from above you but you pay no mind as your neck deep in pure white hot bliss.

“Fuckin hell love, really. Fuck.” He's panting, you’re panting.

You stroke his chest lovingly as he kisses your ankle as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. He lowers his mask once more.

You glace up to where his hand still grips the headboard and a deep crack is ingrained in the wood.

You laugh.

“Jesus Simon, you fucked me so hard you broke your bed.” 

He removes his hand observing the wood and shrugging.

“Well worth it I’d say, I’ll invest in a sturdier one.”

“Are you saying you’ll invite me to your place more often?”

“Your place works too.”

You both banter as you both clean up, you shower and he washes the sheets and hangs around the kitchen, letting you some time to refresh.

You come out of the bathroom smelling like him, drowned in one of his shirts and he's leaned up against his kitchen island gazing blindly at the random rugby channel he turned on.

He slides you a beer and you take it gratefully, bumping your glasses together.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not the kind of man you might be thinking.”

“No Simon, you’re exactly the man I’m looking for, you’re stuck with me now.”

There's a beat of silence before Simon speaks up again.

“I should probably thank Johnny for tonight right?”

“Yea, he pretty much told me to quit my bitching and confront you.”

He sips his beer, 

“Well, for once I can say thank fuck for Soap and his matchmaking skills.”

You laugh and stare at him in adoration, this is the start of something wonderful.

---

Tag list: @theredviolets

[murdrdocs]

p link but this is sejanus idgaf

https://x.com/bizarrredom/status/1701624291475832859?s=46&t=1_CHFfhWK6yAG6ES_M779A

oh wow i’m screaming into my pillow link

he’s such a gentleman that it was you who had to convince him you could still fuck without protection.

“i can go run to the store and get some,” he had suggested. but you were sure you couldn’t wait that long, the burning desire deep in your center needed attention immediately. and sejanus was there, a boner visible in his trousers, a need in his eyes and hands.

he wanted you as much as you wanted him. so of course you were going to suggest fucking without protection.

“we’ll just pull out.” and that combination of both of you in your explanation should’ve been warning enough for sejanus. “we”. you refusing to give him complete control over the situation, when he felt like he should have it.

but then you got on top of him and he was quick to get pussy drunk. watching your tits bounce. hearing your pretty little sounds. feeling your cunt squeeze around his cock and your nails scratch down his torso. he was lost in it, almost completely. not until warmth and an insatiable urge settled deep in his abdomen.

he was practically begging for you to get off, even though it felt so good. but sejanus was a rational person. he couldn’t cum in you. you were too young.

then his eyes opened and he caught sight of the crown molding along the ceiling of his bedroom and he remembers that this is the capitol, surely an accidental pregnancy can be prevented before it even took.

so at a certain point, he stops begging and lets you ride him to an orgasm.

[literaila]

mama y/n should be fuckin it up in a club…. but she got three kids at home instead!!! does shoko ever take her out.. do they go drinking till the sun rises?? has y/n ever had the time to go crazy in her 20s?!

need an unhinged totally not sober y/n and gojo.. i know he loves her when shes in that state bc she has got to be more outspoken and bold about her feelings

“s’toru,” you whisper, a delirious smile on your face. “are you listening?”

satoru puts a hand on your back, steadying the slight sway you’ve got going on. so what if you’re a bit wobbly? at least you’re having fun.

or so you told him ten minutes ago when he asked if you were ready to leave.

“yes, baby,” he answers, after a moment, trying not to grin at your pout, or you in general. but a man is only so strong.

luckily you’re drunk enough not to notice. or drunk enough not to comment on it.

whichever it is, satoru is grateful for it.

“what’s up?” he prods, when you don’t continue whatever tangent you were going on. something about the prospects of living in outer space, or megumi’s math homework—he’s not sure.

“where’d everyone go?”

“home,” he answers, hand on his chin, leaning in close enough to hear you. “shoko doesnt like the crowds.”

you laugh, your face is sheen with sweat and your smile is infectious. “she just doesn’t like you.”

“she was my friend first,” satoru says, mock offended. “even wasted, you’re a bully.”

“i’m not wasted,” you frown, and sway, just a little bit more.

satoru nods unconvincingly. “okay, pina colada. drink this.” he moves his glass over to you, your heads just centimeters away.

it’s because he can’t hear you in here, okay? it’s because it’s very loud and he doesn’t want to miss any of your incessant mumbling—it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the proximity or the way the feeling of your breath against his cheek makes him feel.

just to clarify.

“what’s this?”

“water.”

“gross,” you say, but take a gulp anyway. then you sigh, maybe in relief, and look to him. “where’s your drink?”

“you just finished it.”

your eyes waver. “i’m sorry, s’toru,” you tell him, softly. you’re still leaning in and it’s still making him nervous.

but he’s smiling. he can’t seem to stop when he’s around you. “it’s okay, baby, it’s time to go home anyway.”

“no,” you whine, resting your head on the counter. “i’m having fun.”

“you can have fun in bed.”

“with you?”

satoru chokes, just briefly, and looks away—not because he’s blushing, but because… well, for other, private reasons. satoru doesn’t get flustered.

“you’re funny,” he says, and stands up. “i hope you don’t remember this in the morning.”

he pulls you up by your arm and you immediately relax into him, like a cat to the sun. “why?”

“‘cause you’ll avoid me for a week.”

satoru hopes he’ll forget the way it feels to have you like this, without the inhibitions.

“no,” you pout, looking up at him. “i would miss you too much.”

satoru softens. he wishes he could bask in this version of you—let your heart speak its forbidden wishes for a little while longer—but you told him that you didn’t want to stay out too late.

the kids will be home by early afternoon, at the latest, and megumi is a handful without a hangover.

“that’s why you should forget this,” he whispers, “so we don’t have to miss each other.”

“okay. whatever you think.”

that’s also a pleasant surprise—sober, rational you would never agree with anything he said.

“c’mon,” he tells you, holding the door open. “turn.”

satoru leads you to the car—slowly—watching your feet and ignoring the way you’re curling into him, the way you’re so close and so indifferent about it. he buckles you in, the feeling of your sweet breath on his neck, and closes the door softly.

as satoru settles in, he can feel you leaning against the seatbelt, resting your head on the window.

it might be better if you fall asleep, anyway. it might give him the space to breathe—the space to remember the careful boundaries you’ve taught him over the past four years.

not that they’ve ever mattered to him, not that he would push you away if—

“satoru?” you murmur, and he looks over, shocked that you’re not slurring his name.

“hmm?”

“will you stay with me tonight?” your eyes are shut tight, your arms tucked around your body. “when i go to sleep?”

“i…” satoru swallows. you’re not even awake. you’re not even yourself. “of course.”

“will you stay with me tomorrow, too?”

“yes, sweetheart. whatever you want.”

your lip quirks and you become even less visible to satoru. he can see you clearly—like he can see everything—but for this moment, he’ll pretend he’s just a normal man.

and you just a normal woman. just the same girl you were when he first knocked on your door.

“really?”

he nods, but you’re not looking.

and as satoru begins to drive away, he can almost feel the words, can hear them in the still of the car.

a soft, “i just want you,” tumbling from your lips. some wish you’ll never get.

but that might just be his imagination.

[peachesofteal]

Help I'm Alive

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Threesome - M/M/F. Praise kink. Past relationship trauma. Mention of an accident, drunk driving. Pre-relationship, complicated feelings. Simon and Darling heavy. This is a flashback and takes place before Chapter 1, after Calculation Theme.

You’re decidedly not checking the clock.

It’s only five minutes. Five minutes late is not a huge deal. Traffic exists, so does minor inconvenience, little snafus that get in the way of making it somewhere on time. Five minutes, is not the end of the world. Be rational, you chide yourself. You’re a big girl. Still, they’re never late. Neither one of them. Your bag, primly sitting on the ground near where your foot taps impatiently, agrees. You packed me for what? For them not to show? For them to forget? Sure, it’s been nearly two weeks. Sure, they promised. But honestly. What did you expect? They’re in love with each other. Not you. You close your eyes, avoiding the screen of your phone. This is what happens, when you get ahead of yourself. When you act like a lunatic, instead of a rational human being. It’s fine, it's fine. You’re okay. You tap at it, waiting. Watching. Tap, tap, tap. Did you miss something, did you miss a call, did you read it wrong, get it wrong, hear it wrong, miss- Knuckles rap against your door. Your stomach unties itself, unloops from the twisted rollercoaster, and you release a long-held breath. See?

“H-hi.” The greeting comes out in a stumble, tongue tripping over itself doing nothing to hide your surprise. “I thought Johnny was picking me up?” Simon raises an eyebrow. “He ran into a complication. With dinner.” He motions to where you’re standing in the doorway, staring, and you balk. “Oh. Right. Yes, come in, sorry.” You glance around your flat. “It’s a bit of a mess, I’m sorry. I was busy this week and trying to paint in my downtime, I guess I kind of got distracted from like, normal day stuff you know? Like I-“ “Darling.” Simon calls, big body practically blocking out the frame of the door. It’s not just a pet name now. It’s something more. It’s a million different things, built into two syllables, and sometimes when he says it, the world stops. “Are you alright?” There's concern in the question, in his face, and you swallow. “Yeah.” You assure him, because you are. Today. This week. Last. You’ve been fine. “Are you sure?” “Yes, Simon.” You quip, with an eye roll, and there’s a sharp intake of breath behind the mask, fire and metal and something you can’t explain flashing in his eyes. It forces your spine straight, your thighs together. “Are you packed?” He murmurs, stepping closer, leaning down, clothed lips pressing to the top of your head. “Yes.” You whisper, half pointing to the bag, half reaching for his jacket. “Let’s get you home, then. Johnny’s impatient.”

“How've ye been?” Johnny coos, mouth hovering over your ear. He's got you pressed to his body, coveted, chest to your back, curled over you like a mountain. He's warm, skin hot to the touch, and a little flushed, strands of grown out mohawk tickling your chin. He's been fussing over you for ten minutes, peppering you with kisses, lovely words, physical touch and affection. It feels so safe, so real. It's hard to remember that it's not, in these moments. That you're on the outside. That you're not a part of them.  “Good.” You answer. “Missed you guys.” “We missed ye too, darling. So much. Ah thought about ye everyday.” Your eyes roll on instinct, trying to play it off, but your heart trips, mind and body working itself into a state over the idea that he was even thinking about you. “We both did.” Simon's finger trace over your shoulder, before they tilt your face upwards by your jaw. “We have a surprise for you.” “For me?” You squeak, and Johnny chuckles, mouth in your hair, on your neck, teeth against your earlobe. “Aye, love. For ye. Only for ye.” “What… what is it?” “You'll have to wait.” Simon tells you gently, and your face screws up into a pout. “Til when?” “Until I say.”

“Close yer eyes.” Johnny tells you, and your stomach tightens, storm brewing in your mind. What are they doing? What's going on? “D'ye trust us?” You nod. Simon cocks his head, brow furrowed, but stays quiet. He looks almost… stressed. Upset, even, and it does nothing to quell your anxiety. “You're not gonna like… do something… weird, right? We talked about boundaries and stuff…” Johnny chuckles, pressing his lips to your collarbone, your neck, achingly slow, slow enough that you can feel the imprint of his smile, the shiny flats of his teeth. “No, love. We'd never cross yer boundaries.” He promises, but it's not enough, and you fidget, shifting on your knees, fingers clenching into palms. You look to Simon. He's watching you now, very seriously, but with something softer in his eyes. Something almost sweet, something that feels like a tether, a rope, tied around your heart and tugged tight, something full of promise. Johnny mirrors it, but more openly, easily, and you take a deep breath. You trust them. You're okay. It's okay. You close your eyes. Johnny's hand covers your face, blocking out the residual light. It only last for a second or two before there are more hands on you, cupping your jaw, lifting your head backwards. Lips touch yours. Then they ask for more, and you meet it equally, parting to allow him exploration, tongue inside you, smell of his skin in your nose. Simon. The pressure across your face relents, light coming back to try to peek beneath your eyelids, but you keep them shut, almost tightly so, like you were asked. This, you can do. This, you can give them. “Open your eyes darling.” Simon asks, and your mouth draws downward. “It's alright.” When you do, you can't control the smile that stretches across your face. You're looking up at Simon's face. His whole face, no mask, no cover of darkness. You're looking at the scar on his cheek, the one near his lower lip, stories etched into his skin, sliced into his memory forever. You're looking at a twice broken nose, a five o'clock shadow. You're looking his jawline, etched from stone, plush lips that have brushed over your body in the night, quirked to the side into a small smile. You're looking at the man who made you feel seen, made you feel understood, all without ever letting you see his face. “Hi, Darling.” He murmurs, still cupping one of your cheeks, thumb working methodically across your skin. Johnny laughs, the sound surprising inside the intense moment, and you blink in near shock when Simon fully smiles, revealing his teeth. “Surprise.”

Simon’s face is not the last surprise of the night.

The next one comes decidedly quick, after he hauls you to your feet and Johnny carries you to the bedroom, sitting you upright on the edge of the bed. His hands don’t lose contact, continuing to skim over your clothes, your hair until Simon steps forward, bending over your body, two palms splayed across your thighs.

“You’re so good for us, darling.” He tells you at the same as he urges you onto your back, feet still dangling over the end of the mattress. “Such a good girl. We’re so happy we found you.”

Skilled fingers work the buttons of your pants, and a mouth, Johnny’s, lingers across your cheek, down to your neck. He’s shirtless now, a change you hadn’t even noticed, and you look at the two of them, trying to discern the direction. To understand. Johnny kisses you over and over, laughing with a whisper when you whine, the throaty chuckle warm, soft. Luxurious enough you could get lost in it, Simon smiling when he hears it, something you’re not used to seeing at all, the sight of making neurons light up across the switchboard in your head. His mouth notches to yours, and then to Johnny’s, and when he comes up for air, he licks his lips with a smirk. “Take off your pants.” You do, quickly. Johnny follows suit, and then so do the rest of your clothes, thong, boxers, shirts, your bra, until you’re both fully naked, on your back again, in the bed. The covers have been pulled down, so you’re between the sheets, Johnny on his side next to you, fingertip stroking patterns into your body, flicking over your nipples, your ears, bellybutton. He glances at Simon, the look too lingering to be inconsequential, and then his touch resumes, pattering over the scar on your hip. “What is this from?” Simon murmurs, lips dotting your throat, and your stomach tightens. Fuck.

“It’s from an accident.” You automatically move to cover it with your hand when he snatches it out of the air, pinning you by your wrist against the bed.

“Ye dinnae need to hide anything from us, love.” Johnny’s thumb traces over the puckered line, the raw, raised flesh that gnarly and disgusting, an awful thing. An awful reminder.

“I’m not it’s… it’s from a car accident. I was a passenger.”

“When?” Simon demands, but still manages to sound gentle.

“A few years ago. My- my ex-boyfriend was driving. He… was drunk.” You take a deep breath. “We were leaving a friend’s place. I didn’t want to get in the car with him, I thought… I thought he was too intoxicated. He convinced me, I guess. He was mean about it,” Johnny blows out a startled breath, and his hand flexes. “and then- he wrecked. Spun out into a guardrail, hit another car. I…” You trail off, Simon nodding to encourage you. “I lost consciousness and when I woke up, he was gone, and I was… bleeding. Pretty bad. Had to be transported to hospital.”

“He left you there?” You shrug. Something insane flickers across Simon’s face, something terrifying, and it’s enough to make you shift next to Johnny, instinctively seeking the heat of his body, Simon’s expression softening when he notices. “Thank you, for telling us darling. I know it’s not easy to talk about something like that.”

“Oh.” You don’t know why you say it, the oh. It kind of leaks out, sneaking past your lips. Oh, for the gratitude. Oh, for the acknowledgment, Oh, for the feelings that are spilling over inside your heart, mixing with lust and affection and something much deeper, more confusing.

“Are ye alright?” Johnny asks, cuddling you close with a kiss. You hum into it.

“Yes, I… it was a while ago, I’m okay.” It’s mostly true, but you consider yourself lucky when neither of them continues to push the subject, and Simon moves onto something else, teeth and tongue now painting a swath down your side, your hip. He kisses the healed gash, and your thighs press together.

“Open.” He taps, and you giggle, nervous, but move your heels wide, letting your knees fall open. Simon groans. “Look at you.” His face lowers to your cunt, mouth just over where your clit is aching, breath blowing across your skin in a warm, gentle way that feels nearly damp, more so when he licks a lengthy stripe from bottom to top, making you gasp, palm smacking down into the sheets.

“Isn’t she so perfect?” Johnny’s mouth sucks a mark into your chest between his words, and Simon’s tongue circles around your clit in response, your chest heaving, mind already starting to swim, lightly overwhelmed. Not perfect. Not good. The thoughts occur so rapidly, humiliatingly so, that you squirm a little, eyes opening to fix to on the ceiling. They don’t know you. They have no idea. Don’t get this confused. Don’t get lost in this, don’t- 

“What is today’s date?” Simon interrupts the runaway train barreling through your skull, and you reel for a moment.

“Friday, it’s Friday.” He pauses, mouth hovering over your cunt, eyes fixed on yours.

“The date.” He prompts, and you rattle it off, Johnny cupping your cheek, tender concern in his eyes.

“How old are ye darling?” That one is simpler, it doesn’t require thinking, and you answer immediately, hoping to assuage the rising disquiet in the room.

“I’m okay.” You assure. Simon cocks his head and stands, rising over both you and Johnny, rubbing a thumb against your temple.

“Get lost for a bit? In here?” You nod. “Want us to turn it off?” Your eyes widen. How does he know? 

“Yes. Please.” He kisses you under your neck, tonguing your pulse, slow and steady movement calming the rapidity of your heartbeat, the roar and rush of your blood becoming molasses, slowing down until it feels like you’re dying, like the world is grinding to a halt, everything in the room falling away until it’s just you, and Johnny, and Simon, bodies folded and melted together into a six armed monster, tongue and teeth and the gnashing of jaws. You wrap a hand around Johnny’s cock, tugging at him, thumb dabbing over the red, pulsing head, drips of precome smearing down his length as you stroke your fist up and down.

“Fuck.” You breathe when Simon plunges a finger, and then two, inside you, Johnny working his own fingers across your clit with aching accuracy, muscles seizing in fire and pleasure with every passing second. The world goes dark inside closed lids, and then Simon is cradling your face.

“Look at me.” Simon instructs, as Johnny moves, shifting so you’re more propped up in his arms, wide open mouth across your jaw, holding you. For what? He’s usually where Simon is, you muse, a little dazed, a little bit wondering. Everything feel feverish, imbalanced, like a scale is tipping, leaning too far to one side and taking you with it, until Simon climbs over your body, and you feel the blunt head of his cock against you.

Oh.

You gasp. It slips out, spurred on by the imbalance, and he freezes in response, eyes wondering, waiting.

He asks your name.

You give it before he gets a chance to finish speaking, and then he fucks you.

It’s slow, and wild, at the same time, your mind fracturing as your jaw drops open, fractured words fighting their way up your throat. He's so big, sting of the stretch searing inside your pussy, like he's burning you, lighting you on fire the same time as he's wringing delicious pleasure from your body. 

“How does he feel, love?” Johnny whispers, a hand holding yours. Grounding you, letting you squeeze him, snarled breath spitting from your nose as Simon moves deeper and deeper, nearly kissing your cervix.

“Fu- big.” You hiss, Johnny nodding, brows knitted.

“Ah know, ah know. Ye can take him, darling. Ye were made for us.” Simon grinds to a halt when he bottoms out, and you keen, curling forward, looking up at where they kiss one another, tangling together and returning to you, Simon’s nose against yours, his lips against yours, your body adjusting to him, splinters of pain and pressure turning into sublime floating feelings, walls convulsing around him, squeezing him just like you’re still doing to Johnny’s cock.

“There you go.” He encourages. “Just like that. You’re so- bloody tight, fuck.” You trace his jaw, his naked, unmasked jaw, with your free hand, as Johnny reaches down between you, finding your clit again, wet fingers circling through the sopping mess, the slick and the slide of Simon slowly moving in and out of you, both of them building tension and pleasure through your body. Johnny nips at your throat, and you twitch, legs coming around Simon, eyes finding his in the low light.

“We’ve got you, love.” He keeps fucking you, harder and faster as he talks, words building a wave in your chest, emotion swelling beneath your skin. “We see you.” No. No, no. You close your eyes, trying to cinch them shut, block it all out, fight off the tears, but Simon stops at the same time, and so does Johnny. “Look at me.” He says, and when you do, your lashes are wet.

“P-please. Don’t stop.” He draws back, nearly all the way, Johnny’s finger hovering right over your swollen clit, your entire body aching.

“Don’t hide from us, and I won’t.” Fuck. You stare at him, hopelessly, tears continuing to swell, heavy, heartsick feelings thrumming through your veins, and he pinches your jaw between a thumb a forefinger when you try to turn away. “No.” He grunts, slamming into you, and you curl into Johnny, eyes wide. “Let me see them, darling.” Simon demands, grinding his hips against yours. See what? See- His tongue lavishes your cheek, licking where your tears track across your skin, and you choke, shocked, elated, confused… millions of things and feelings and forbidden moments exploding, erupting the same time Johnny presses harder against your clit, all of it shattering inside you.

“Ah, ah- fuck, I’m-“ You seize, coming with an intensity that makes your head spin, and Simon fucks you through it, Johnny still stroking your clit at a brutal pace through the peak.

“Bloody hell.” He falters briefly, before thrusting deep with such an intensity you can hardly breath, cock battering into your body, Johnny murmuring something sweet in your ear, while bucking into your relaxed fist, looking for friction around his cock. You tighten around him, at the same time Simon makes a strangled noise, his face buried in your neck, entire body trembling as he comes, fills you with himself, sealing his hips to yours with a huff.

“Darling.” He kisses you, knocking his forehead into yours, and wraps his hand around where your fist strokes Johnny. He’s close, panting, staring down at the two of you, one hand in Simon’s hair, the other on your cheek. It doesn’t take long, Simon’s hips jerking when Johnny’s do, and you moan, creamy spend spilling over your fingers.

“Christ.” He collapses, curling around you, around Simon, three of you linked together, three pieces of a puzzle you're not sure how to solve, Simon licking your hand clean, wet sloppy kisses swallowing Johnny’s come until he’s satisfied, and tucking you into his chest.

“Wow.” You breathe. They both chuckle, and you let your eyes close, falling into a white fluffy cloud, purely content, happy. You feel cherished, special, and Johnny rubs your back, little kisses against your ear as Simon runs a warm washcloth between your legs.

“Bathroom?” Simon asks, and you nod, but reach for him instead, pulling him close.

“Can we just, stay here for a second?” He wraps himself around your back, tucking you between his body and Johnny’s, mouth against your scalp.

“For a second.”

[syluscore]

Every Version of You

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

An average day, nothing noteworthy. Until someone intercepts you and your partner a week before you’re gearing up to head out for an assignment. Now there’s nothing average about today, nothing is normal anymore. You’ll never understand. Is it time travel? Is his soul broken apart and now manifesting different versions of himself? All you know is that an older version of Leon is here, insisting he had to come back to save your life with the help of a trusted few. And for some reason his younger self from when you two first met and survived Racoon City together is also here. When your Leon is swept away on a mission to rescue the president’s daughter from a cult in Spain, you’re left to try and prevent your coming death with his past and future self. When he returns, how do you confront everything that has come to the surface with the other two? Will you be able to prevent your ultimate demise? It’s going to take every version of him in order to save yourself.

~ Masterlist ~ Next Part ~

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SONGS: Always - Bon Jovi and Work Song - Hozier

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART ONE: drunkenness, pining, repressed romantic feelings, death, depression, anxiety, tension, kidnapping, violence, drugging, water submersion, self-depreciation, thoughts of dying, desire to die, heartache, angst, hurt with no comfort

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS POST AND BLOG ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!!!!

PART "CHAPTER" ONE:

“I can’t sing a love song, like the way it’s meant to be.” You belt out the lyrics to the last song you remember playing in the bar before the alcohol completely took over. Despite your words slurring, you did your best to mimic the sultry rock tone of Bon Jovi.

“God, you’re so drunk,” Leon laughs as he tries to keep you up right as you make your way down the dark, city streets. 

The only other patrons on this road are other drunks. All of the businesses beyond the bar are closed up and dark. You can still hear the music from the bar thumping in the distance.The late night air is chilly, but you’re too obliterated to take much notice of the goosebumps littering your exposed skin.

“Nooooooo,” you whine at Leon. “You’re supposed to sing the next part. This is a duet, Leon, come on!”

He stares down at you with an amused look on his face. “I’m not doing a Bon Jovi duet with you at 3 am in the middle of the street.”

You pout at him, stopping in your tracks in defiance. He tries to continue pulling you along, but you hold the heels of your feet firmly in place on the cobblestone. The rough texture of the restored downtown district usually pissed you off. You were always tripping over yourself on the uneven terrain, but tonight it’s helping ground you in place. You subconsciously apologize to the ground for all the times you’ve cursed it.

“I can’t sing a love song, like the way it’s meant to be.” You sing the same lyric as earlier loudly, your tone absolutely atrocious. 

Leon sighs before finally giving in, replying with the next line. “Well, I guess I’m not good anymore, but baby, that’s just me.”

You squeal joyfully at his rock ballad impression before clinging to his arm again, allowing him to continue guiding you down the road.

You’re practically screaming at this point, “And I will love you, baby, always. And I’ll be there forever and a day, always.” 

Leon knows he’s lost the battle. Your drunken mind knows no ration, so he sings along with you quietly. He fights the smile threatening to overtake his face, not wanting to encourage you further.

But it’s too late. When he gave in during your small fit, that was all the motivation you needed to give the city street the performance of your life. 

As you continued singing, your hazy mind couldn’t keep track of the lyrics. Leon just shakes his head as you get the words completely wrong. 

He stuffs the warm feeling in his chest down, locking it away as he always does. He doesn’t like how endearing he finds you. The way you carry yourself so carefreely. You’re boldly and unapologetically yourself. It’s everything Leon wishes he could be. He never allows himself to think any deeper on the feelings inside of him. Nothing good ever comes from him expressing the intricacies of the branches growing and entwining deeply in his chest. 

You’ve got your claws deeply embedded into his person. He has killed for you before, many times, and he will do it again without a second thought. You’re his best friend, his partner, his twin flame, but he refuses to vocalize what you mean to him. 

The world is a shitshow filled with unspeakable horrors and ill intent. Boldly caring for anything makes you vulnerable. If you have nothing, then there isn’t anything for the world to steal from you. His life is already overly complicated. He’s merely a prop for the US government. Nothing but a tool, or more accurately a weapon. He’s the weapon they use against bioweapons. A machine that serves its intended purpose and is expected to maintain itself as it sits idly by before it’s needed again.

He finds comfort in this fact somehow. An object doesn’t need to feel or process emotions. It enables him to push down his trauma and function day to day without breaking apart at the seams. If he detaches himself from the physical world enough, going through the motions is a piece of cake. Maybe he’s not living, maybe he’s merely existing, but when he’s with you… he feels everything. He wants to stay in the secureness of being numb, safe and sound within his own walls.

He shouldn’t have agreed to hit up the bar with you tonight. But after being briefed on your next assignment, you needed to be plastered to cope with the new horrors you’d be dealing with. And the truth was Leon cared about you extensively, so he could get through tonight. He’ll drop your drunk ass off at home and then seclude himself from you until it’s time to go on your assignment together. 

“Oh fuck,” you holler as you trip over your own feet, exposed knees crashing into the ground beneath you. You hiss at the stinging of new scrapes on your skin. 

Leon crouches down and attempts to help you up, but you’re super unsteady as your legs shake underneath you. 

“We need to get your drunk ass home before you completely self-destruct.”

You giggle up at him before your eyes connect with his. Your mind goes completely blank as you soften beneath his gaze. This is what it means to get lost in someone’s eyes, it must be. The alcohol running through your system is making it hard to ignore all the pesky feelings you’re able to brush off–to stuff deep down when you’re sober.

What if he leaned down and kissed you right now? What if he finally closed the gap between the two of you? What if he completed those broken pieces of yourself and made you whole again? Finally giving into six long years worth of tension? Your eyes fall down to his plump, wet lips before rising back up to meet his stare. You subconsciously lick your lips in anticipation. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat as the pace of your breathing picks up. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you want nothing more than to extinguish the flames, but in the back of your mind you know you want to ignite them further.

Neither one of you break the stare down raging between you two somewhere in the middle of this forgotten street. You could be literally anywhere and it wouldn’t make a goddamn difference. Wouldn’t change a fucking thing. But you know that’s just the loneliness and liquor talking. He’s your Leon, it’s not like that. He’s not like that. You’re not like that. Right?

You’re so lost in one another that you don’t notice the sounds and shifting air around you until it’s too late. While you were lost in your own bubble, you left yourself vulnerable and exposed to the world around you. And it seems the world took advantage of that fact.

Suddenly arms are wrapped around your cowering frame. A hand comes up and covers your mouth, muffling the startled scream tumbling from your throat.

Leon darts forward to pull the person off of you when two men you don’t recognize grab either of his arms and pull him back away from you. His elbows are flying into their sides, his nails digging into their skin. His knees and legs kicking out as he fights to break from their holds on him.

“Don’t make me do this, Leon,” a deep voice speaks to him, but it doesn’t change anything. Leon keeps fighting against them. The man lets out a heavy sigh before swinging his free arm and punching Leon hard in the face, his body instantly going limp at the impact.

You realize you’re crying and whimpering as you shake in the man’s arms. His tight grip on you hasn’t faltered for even a second. You’re powerless, a helpless feeling taking over your entire being. You have no fight in you tonight. You’re too drunk and you immediately regret allowing yourself to be in such a state.

“I’m so sorry.” The man holding you removes his hand from your mouth, but before you can say anything, there’s a stabbing pain in the side of your throat. Your eyes shoot in the direction of his arm, seeing him pulling a now empty syringe away from you. You’ve been drugged. You want to panic, but a fuzzy feeling seeps its way into your muscles and bones. Before you’ve even processed the sudden turn of events, darkness wraps around you like a blanket.

You have no choice but to allow yourself to fall into it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Waking up feels like you’re trapped underwater. The world is so far away, the only sound surrounding you being your own heart beat thrumming in your ears and the movement of the water flowing around you. Your limbs feel limp, your body weightless. The only thing you can do is allow yourself to sink into it, to embrace the sensations.

But then you begin to open your eyes.

Everything is out of focus, distorted as if looking through someone else’s glasses. You have to force yourself to blink, taking all of your energy to lift your heavy eyelids. 

You can’t help it. You let them fall shut again. Even with your eyes closed, it feels like the world is spinning around you, but at least the ache behind your eyelids stops.

You almost give yourself back over to sleep. Almost. 

You feel hands gripping your arms, shaking you. You assume the person is trying to wake you up and you try to force yourself up, but your blood feels thick in your veins. That under water feeling growing inside your body as well. The feeling is almost peaceful so you cling to it.

The memories start to trickle into your brain that feels like it’s vibrating inside of your skull.

You shoot your eyes open and look down, attempting to focus your eyes as you force yourself to blink rapidly. You feel so fucking high and there’s nothing you can do other then beg yourself to please come down. Even as your eyes start to focus, your brain feels trapped behind a barrier and you still can’t get any appendage attached to this useless body to just move.

This isn’t working. You close your eyes again, instead focusing on your breathing. In, hold, then out. In, hold, then out. Rinse, lather, repeat. You can feel your lungs expanding and retracting over and over in your chest; the feeling has your anxiety rising.

But it’s finally working. Somehow, some way, the anxiety is awakening your nerves and pushing the drugged out feeling away. 

It probably takes twenty or thirty minutes to come back to yourself enough to comprehend what’s happening around you, but it finally does. And what you see has you feeling even more high.

You’re laying on some dingy, old couch. The room around you is dark and dank. It’s somewhere between a basement and a dungeon. The more you look around, the more you think it’s more dungeon leaning. 

You slowly manage to sit yourself up, using every ounce of strength you have to achieve it. You take more deep breaths before pushing yourself up, barely managing to steady yourself as you stand and your knees threaten to give out beneath you. More deep breaths and your head stops spinning, allowing you to open your eyes again. 

The room is small;  just the couch, a lamp, and a door. 

A few shaky paces forward and you’re at the door. Up close, you can see that the old door isn’t closed all the way. Placing one hand on the door frame for balance, you reach forward with the other slowly pushing the door open. And what you see has your head reeling more than the drugs.

This room is much larger than the previous one, the high ceilings nearly three times higher than the previous. Two men stand at a control panel surrounding a large tank of… water? It looks like bubbly, murky, thickened water. Another man stands away from the others, looking lost and out of place in a shadowy corner of the room.

But those are the least concerning elements. What has you screaming out in shock is the man up on the metal platform above the tank holding an unconscious Leon in his arms. It looks like he’s moments from dropping Leon into the mysterious vat of liquid and it has panic overtaking your system.

Every man in the room's attention darts to you at your sudden outburst.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a man with a thick accent speaks from the control panel.

“What are you doing to him? What the fuck is going on?” You wheeze out. The room grows silent except for your heavy breathing and the weird humming noises coming from inside the tank.

Adrenaline takes over, your survival instincts kicking in as you rush towards the tank, ready to do anything to get Leon away from this death trap.

You throw yourself at the ladder attached to the platform above the tank, ready to do whatever it takes to save him. But large muscular arms wrap around you, trapping your arms at your side.

You kick and scream, anything to break free of his grasp, but to no avail. He’s so much larger than you. Even without the drugs lingering in your system, you’re still not sure you’d stand a chance against him. You’re the damsel in distress, nothing but a sitting duck waiting for your hero to come rescue you.

But the ever dependable hero is in immediate danger, mere feet above his ultimate demise. 

“You ready?” The accented man speaks to the man above the tank.

“Whenever you are.” A gruff voice responds from above. 

The accented man starts counting backwards from ten as the other man starts to move Leon towards the edge, ready to toss him in like nothing but a rag doll.

You’re screaming, pleading, begging them to stop. You’re in hysterics and all of the men ignore you. No one even bothers to spare you a second glance.

You’re completely helpless. You can’t save him. You’ve failed him as you always do. You know if it was you in his position, he’d have saved you effortlessly. He’d never allow you to die like this. He’d never allow you to die at all, but you can’t return that simple fucking favor. 

Please let me be next. Throw me in after him. I could never live knowing I allowed him to die as if he was nothing. He’s everything. If I can’t save him, take me with him. I’ll follow him even in death. What’s a world without Leon Kennedy? I don’t want to know, please don’t make me know.

Your heart shatters as you watch Leon’s limp body fall into the vat of liquid. The man at the control panel flips a giant lever and the liquid glows. The light from the tank is blinding as the man holding you releases you to cover his own eyes. 

You’ve always been a coward and you refuse to be as your best friend dies in front of you. You force your eyes to stay open through the excruciating pain burning in them. 

But then as quickly as it appeared, the light disappears. The man on the platform has collapsed, unconscious above the tank. And weirdly enough, the man lingering in the shadows has collapsed as well. 

You can’t stop the tears as they fall down your face, a sob breaking through your lips as the realization sets in. The tank is empty. Leon is no longer inside.

Did they fucking incinerate him?

You fall to your knees as you shake, your entire body crumbling as the situation truly sets in.

I’m so sorry, Leon. I’m sorry for being such a useless piece of fucking shit. Wherever you are, reach through to me and smite me dead with you. Drag me to the other side with you. Don’t make me stay in a world where you don’t exist. 

I’ll never let you down again. I’ll remind you every day how much you fucking mean to me. You can’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. There’s no me without you. 

You’ve always been larger than this world, Leon, but it’s nothing without you. The world was never worthy of you, and neither was I. But don’t fucking leave me. There’s so many things I haven’t said, too many things I haven’t said. And I’ll forever hate myself for it. 

If your heart isn’t beating, then mine doesn’t deserve to beat either. I’ll rip the fucking thing from my chest to follow you wherever you are now. It beats for you and I think it always has, since the day I fucking met you. 

If not this life then I’ll be yours in the next. I won’t be stupid anymore, I fucking swear it Leon.

I love you Leon Scott Kennedy. I fucking love you. 

And the afterlife can’t fucking have you. I know you and I know that you can look God in the face and fight, kicking and screaming, your way back to me. It’s not your time. All the time in the world would never be enough time to spend with you.

So you bring your ass straight back here and I’ll fall to my knees, devote my life to you. I’ll pray to you if it’s what you ask of me. You are my purpose and there is no meaning to this bullshit life without you in it.

I never got the chance to properly and loudly love you. Never got the chance to show you I love you. You left this world not knowing how much you were loved. And none of it is right. I’ll burn this world down for you, Leon. I don’t care if you want me to or not. This place will not go on without you. I promise, my love. 

If you don’t come back to this world, there will be no world for any mother fucker to ever come back to. No one is more worthy than you and I’ll never allow them to feel as if they are. As if any mortal soul could ever begin to compare.

You’re supposed to stay with me to the end. This can’t be the end. Is this the end? I refuse to accept this ending. I’ll rewrite the whole fucking book until it’s structured around nothing but your happy ending, Leon.

Leon. Not my Leon. I’ve lost you before you were even mine to lose. You left without knowing I’m yours.