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mrskokushibo · 4 months ago

Text

Wrong?

Muzan x fem!reader x Yoriichi

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dub con, threesome, watching corn, very NSFW, 18+. Modern AU. 7k words.

Summary: Your boyfriend Muzan is a star, and you love being his girl. But the man has needs that you have been neglecting for a while. Tonight will start a chain of events that will have you asking yourself if sex and love in a relationship truly should be inseparable?

A/N: I loved creating this storyline. This is a request from a friend. The only thing she asked for was Muzan's girlfriend falling for Yoriichi. It's one of my favourite stories to write - I got to spread my creative wings.

Masterlist

The club was full tonight, hosting the release party for a new book by one of the most prominent writers in the city. The venue was an old factory building, stylishly renovated with a mixture of white rendered walls, exposed brick, and steel structure, decorated with an eclectic and carefully curated selection of furniture ranging from sleek Scandinavian design armchairs to rococo sofas and chandeliers.

A place that quickly became a favourite with the cultural circles of the city. It was also the home of a popular nightclub on the weekends as well as the venue of choice for a society hosting slightly, well, different types of events, namely invitation-only orgies, that your boyfriend and subsequently yourself were always invited to, but had to decline due to your unwillingness to participate in anything like that.

Tonight’s event was the kind you gladly accompanied him to. As always on such occasions, your boyfriend Muzan Kibutsuji was one of the guests of honour. He was a young star writer, specialising in dark horror and fantasy, having sold over a million copies of his first novel at the tender age of twenty-three. Now, five years later and with another few million books sold, he was among the literary elites. He also had a background in acting, although there was a veil of mystery as to what type of movies, he was in.

You too were a writer and the two of you met at a seminar hosted by your favourite Japanese superstar novelist. Well, you would be lying to yourself if you thought you actually were a professional writer, more of an aspiring writer, really. Your studies and work took up most of your time, so the only writing you did was manga and anime fanfiction. Yes, you felt very inadequate at these parties, but you quickly adjusted to assuming the role of the supportive and devoted girlfriend of the literary star.

And tonight, was no different. You wore a brand new, figure-hugging little black dress and high-heeled thigh-high leather boots. Simple, but sexy. For the last half hour, you were standing idly sipping your champagne, while Muzan was involved in a heated debate with some older, seemingly unimpressed author and his artist friends. You were a little tipsy and were hugging Muzans arm all the while he was busy talking.

He was such a hottie, you thought, you saw the envious looks on the faces of his female colleagues every time he brought you with him to any event. Yes, you could consider yourself lucky. His looks were striking, as he was essentially an albino, meaning his eyes were red and his hair white and wavy, but he always coloured it black. The monochromatic colour combination together with his masculine yet defined and delicate features gave him an exotic and almost out-of-earthly aura. His muscular arms were covered with intricate black gothic tattoos (he had tattoos in other, more intimate places too) and he sported a tongue piercing. His style was a bit steampunk blended with hard rock, he looked good in suits and ripped jeans alike. And he stood almost six feet tall.

The boredom of just standing around was slowly leaving room for thoughts other than literature, you were getting a little horny, to be completely honest with yourself. You were into your third glass of champagne and were slightly tipsy, the ambient rhythmic music, warm dimmed lighting, and the buzz of people talking were putting you into a pleasant lull, making your senses pliable and receptive to new impressions.

Out of nowhere, you started to imagine what it would be like when an orgy is hosted here… the throaty moans and high-pitched squealing of female pleasure mixed with the deep raspy grunts of the men, loud screams of people climaxing and the wet, squelching pounding of flesh against flesh. You could picture naked bodies, bodies in provocative lingerie, illuminated and glossy in the warm light of the chandeliers. It is almost as if you now suddenly were curious about it…

And that is when you noticed him. That other man. He was standing in the middle of the room deep in a conversation with a group of young people. His appearance stood out in the crowd, he was very tall, probably well over six feet, maybe six feet three, with an athletic build. His hair was long and black, tied in a ponytail with cascades of shorter bangs framing his face. Red highlights illuminated his layered hair. He was dressed in tight black jeans and an equally tight black t-shirt, and was wearing long earrings with what looked like the rising sun. There was a strange red mark on his left temple, a birthmark maybe? You could not help it, but you found yourself staring at his bulging biceps every time he lifted his beer to his lips. You were amused with how boredom brought out such primitive instincts in you. You were interrupted by Muzan who nudged you gently,

‘Would you like another drink?’

‘Yes, please’ you replied.

He walked away to the bar while texting someone and smirking. He came back with drinks only to find a new group of colleagues taking his attention. So… you proceeded with your little dirty pastime. Suddenly, the man looked in your direction, a dark maroon gaze piercing straight through you. You froze, and at the same time, a familiar heat was starting to spread in your belly. Wetness was pooling between your legs and you were thanking yourself for wearing panties tonight.

He looked away again, but then his gaze was constantly seeking yours for the rest of the evening. When it was time for you and Muzan to leave, while walking past the group with the gorgeous object of your attention, he suddenly looked you up and down and gave you the most lust-filled gaze you could imagine. You were so stunned you kept on staring at him, your head turning back in his direction while you were leaving the room.

The ride home proceeded in awkward silence; you have never seen Muzan in such a strange mood. When you entered the penthouse, you slouched on the sofa and closed your eyes. You were a little tired from all the impressions, especially that specific one… You opened your eyes feeling the presence of your boyfriend. He was standing in front of you holding handcuffs. ‘Move to the armchair’ he commanded in a deep, raspy whisper, the way he almost hissed the words sent a chill down your spine. ‘What now?’ you thought puzzled.

‘I saw what you were doing all night. You were staring at that man like a shameless slut.’

His words were true, you were indeed staring, but so what, this came from the man who suggested attending orgies in the past.

Perplexed, you retaliated: ‘Am I not allowed to look at people anymore?’

‘Oh, my love, you were not just looking, you were eye-fucking him. Do you think I cannot tell the difference?’

You swallowed and obediently moved to the armchair.

He placed your arms on the rests and slowly cuffed each of them to the furniture. Then he picked up the remote and turned on the projector. What was instantaneously visualized on the screen went straight to your sex. It was a close-up of a man and a woman fucking, with loud, obscene moans serving as the soundtrack. The camera started slowly to move away from the copulating pair and the back of the male came into full view, intricate tattoos spreading over his back like a veil of black lace and long, wavy white hair snaking down his neck and shoulders while his hips were rhythmically moving back and forth to slam his dick into the woman. When the camera moved to show the front of him your heart nearly stopped, the red pupils staring intently at the woman he was railing, that face…. It was Muzan. So that was the acting career he was so mysterious about.

In the meantime, Muzan was in the kitchen part of the open-plan living space, texting someone. You were both completely silent while the sounds of sex were filling the space. A few moments later and a pair of now completely soaking wet panties, the doorbell rang. Muzan walked over to open it. His face was adorned with a mischievous smile as he glanced your way. What happened next was something you did not expect and that started an unstoppable chain of events.

The person Muzan let in the apartment was a woman, a petite blond with hair all the way down to her round ass, dressed in a sleeveless skin-tight latex dress, that showed off her large (most presumably) fake silicone breasts. A real little sex kitten. Muzan led her to the sofa and sat down spreading his legs so that she could kneel between them.

He parted her pouting pink lips with his index finger and slid it deep into her mouth while she released a throaty moan, he then pulled the finger out stroking her bottom lip, only to pump the finger back into her mouth even deeper this time while rotating it. His other hand slid down her dress off her breasts and started slowly caressing them, making her moan even harder. He was pinching her nipples, making her perfect little body arch in pleasure, and looking even hotter. All the while her small manicured hands were stroking his crotch and after her back arched from overstimulation, she unzipped his pants and gently pulled out his now fully erect, hard cock. She was stroking it gently and licking the sensitive tip.

Eventually, she sank her head down on the full length, stretching her shiny, pink lips, gagging a little, and continuing to bob her head up and down on his thick length. His dick was large, so that most of the time she was only getting half of it in her mouth with the rest of the shaft treated to a pumping motion by her delicate hands. He threw his head back; you could tell he was close. Her moans were getting louder too and a few moments later he grabbed her by her ponytail and the back of her head and shoved her down into his groin while bucking his hips upwards. The woman gagged heavily, the sound wet and sloppy. He climaxed.

Once he was finished, he let her head go and she slowly pulled away, gasping for air, with spit and cum connecting her mouth to his penis. She looked him in the eye with a submissive almost grateful look. He was still stroking her breasts, while she was licking up all the cum from her lips and sucking his cock clean. And then, just like that she adjusted her clothes, got up, threw him a little kiss, and walked out of the apartment. The porno on the screen was playing all the while this was happening adding to the already surreal and loaded atmosphere.

You were too stunned to even think, let alone say anything. ‘What the fuck did you just witness?’

Without a word Muzan got up from the sofa and walked up to you, his dick still hanging out of his pants. He knelt in front of you and put his hands on your soft thighs, slowly kneading them up towards your crotch. His hands were getting closer and closer to your wet lips and finally they reached your soaked g-string. Muzan started rubbing you through the wet fabric with two fingers.

‘Fuck you are wet. Such a whore you are, getting wet from watching other people fuck. You are a dirty little kitten, aren’t you?’

You were too ashamed to answer, ashamed that something so wrong and apparently hurtful aroused you. You should have been turning your head away, yelling at him, crying even. But all you did was watch… and get wet.

‘You see, my love, when people get jealous, they sometimes stop thinking, they do stupid things. Do you think, what I did was stupid? Hm? But, you know, I got jealous, very jealous. And when you have been such a prude with me for so long, never wanting to do the things I thought we should do and then go drooling after other men, what do you think I should have done?’ His voice was raspy and menacing, but also filled with lust.

Muzan’s fingers were now slowly spreading your labia and rubbing up and down between your slick-soaked folds. You were so wet, his actions created small squelching sounds. He added another finger and slowly worked his way into your dripping pussy, crooking a finger and pumping in with small circular movements that made your muscles clench around him. He then spread your labia and moved in to lick you between your legs. His was giving you long and slow, gentle licks all the way on the very inside of your labia, you could feel the metal of his tongue piercing leaving a streak of extra pressure and thus enhanced sensation on the thin strips of flesh it was touching.

Gradually, he started to increase the force with which he was working his tongue on you. Wherever the piercing pressed on your sensitive flesh, it was exerting extra pressure on your nerves. When he finally reached your clitoris and started circling around it and occasionally skilfully flicking his tongue so that the piercing would hit the sensitive nub, your thighs were sent into convulsions of pleasure. You were starting to edge, your climax so close yet his actions not decisive enough to grant you release. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, while he was flicking his tongue over your clit while all the while pumping his fingers into your pussy. You were so close; you were drooling and tears started to form in your eyes.

‘Muzan, please let me come, I’m so close’ you were moaning and squealing and when you thought he was increasing his pace, he suddenly pulled away and started uncuffing you.

‘Go down on all four for me doll.’

You did what he asked you to, as you were so greedy to come. You now had the porno in full view in front of you and there he was on the screen fucking two women now, one riding his face and the other his dick. Watching that made you so fucking aroused. It was wrong, but you could not help reacting to it in the way you did. You felt like an animal, driven only by instinct at this point.

Without a word, he spread your ass cheeks and aligned his hard tip at your entrance, and soon his thick girth was pumping in and out of your pussy, wet, sloppy, indecent sounds of the two of you fucking on top of the vulgar sounds coming from the porno were filling the otherwise so elegant and relaxing space of your shared apartment. He was thrusting so hard that with every move you were being sent forwards with so much force that eventually your whole upper body was flat on the soft rug with him pressing down your back with his hand. He increased the pressure, supporting himself almost fully on you, and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

‘I will now come inside you my little whore, I will breed you, because you are my very own whore, I bet you would like to carry my little brat, would you?’

With that he increased the pace and strength of his thrusts, you were clenching around him, desperate to come. His hips and lower abdomen were now pressed flush to your round soft ass and you could eventually feel his lower abs contract indicating his release. His orgasm must have been a big one as he growled while pushing himself in you and releasing a huge load of cum into your fluttering insides.

‘Fuck you were good, kitten. I will sleep so well now.’

He pulled out, stood up and grabbed the remote to turn off the movie, and left for the bathroom. You were left high and dry, or so you thought anyway…

When you entered the bedroom Muzan was seated in the chair lounge next to the lit fireplace and opposite of your shared bed, fully dressed sipping on a glass of single malt whisky. The flame was making his eyes look almost devilish.

‘Here you are. I think you do deserve to come after all, we do not want you to lose sleep, do we?’

There was something so menacing in his voice, something that was hitting all the submissive notes in your entire being.

‘Undress for me, doll’

Without hesitation, you started to take your clothes off.

‘All of it, now!’ He commanded.

You did as you were told.

‘Now. Lay down on the bed so I can see between your legs. Play with yourself for me, make yourself come.’

There was nothing else to do, but to obey and you already felt like you were in a trance, as if nothing of this was real. You laid down and started to flick your nipple and got your imagination ready, and the fantasy that was helping you get off involved the tall man from the party, your only invisible act of defiance against your boyfriend. You imagined him seated on a sofa at the party, with everyone watching while you came up to him and straddled him shamelessly. What followed made you move your hand down between your legs and masturbate. Your fingers were doing their skilled and experienced work and very soon you came. Your orgasm was intense, with waves of pleasure causing your body to arch and convulse, you released a small scream and when the waves of pleasure finally flowed away, you were just lying there, limp with soaking wet fingers and pussy. You licked your fingers dry and closed your eyes.

A harsh yank to your chin shook you out of your bliss. You opened your eyes and the only thing in your line of sight was Muzan’s cock.

‘Open your mouth for me now, sweetheart’

The gentle words were in such stark contrast to what he was about to do because as soon as you opened your mouth, he grabbed you by your neck and shoved himself fully into your mouth, making you gag. He stayed like this for a few seconds, savouring how deep inside your throat his dick was seated, and rotated his hips a little. Then he slowly pulled out, only to slam himself into you again, and again and again, until you were a gagging, drooling mess with tears and mascara running down your cheeks. He pulled out, drool connecting your mouth to his dick, and lifted your head up by yanking you up at your ponytail.

‘I think this is a good look for you, isn’t it, doll? My submissive little kitten, so sweet and obedient. ‘

He shoved himself in you again and this time kept on going until you could feel his muscles spasm and the warm, salty liquid filled your mouth and throat. He pumped into you a few extra times before pulling out. You swallowed most of the cum, but there was still some left on his cock.

‘Clean me up.’

You licked his dick clean and he lifted your head by the chin, so very gently now.

‘Hm, we will both sleep well after this, won’t we?’

And he placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips and went into the bathroom to clean himself up. You followed suit, but you knew you would most likely not sleep all too well, still trying to come to terms with what he has done in front of you with that woman, as well as trying to grasp how in the hell was it your fault. Was he really the jealous type?

The following day began with Muzan getting up and making you both coffees. He behaved as if last night did not happen, something that confused and infuriated you even more. Since it was your day off, you decided to head over to the gym to clear your head and hopefully figure out your next move. Both you and Muzan frequented the same gym in the neighbourhood, the gym was large, but with a relaxed atmosphere. There was also a martial arts dojo in conjunction with it that Muzan went to occasionally, but you never showed any interest in.

As soon as you entered the gym, you nearly froze in your steps. There, next to the reception desk was the man from the party, chatting casually with one of the personal trainers. You stalling in your movement caught his attention and he looked straight at you and waved. As if hypnotised you started slowly walking toward him and finally stopped in front of the man. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up to look at his face.

‘Hi,’ you blurted out.

‘I didn’t know you went to this gym?’

You kept on rambling as if the two of you were already introduced. He looked at you with slight amusement.

‘Yes, I do, and I believe I saw you at the party last night, yes?’

‘Yes.’ You nodded like the idiot you were. For every minute feeling more and more awkward.

‘Well, I guess we should have a proper introduction then. My name is Yoriichi’. He stretched out his hand.

‘Y/n’ you said with overdriven courage as you placed your hand in his large one for a courteous handshake.

‘Excuse me, boss, can you please sign this?’ the two of you were interrupted by an employee of the gym coming up to Yoriichi with some papers. You looked at him and asked surprised.

‘Oh, you work here?’

‘Yes, actually I kind of happen to own the place’ he answered shyly, scratching his head and blushing a little.

While he was busy flipping through the pages you could not help yourself but eye him off discretely and what you saw was waking up the most basic instincts in you. He was wearing cotton tracksuit pants and a singlet in a thin functional material, that showed off his huge toned arms. The outline of his pecs and abs were visible through the thin fabric, you also noted he had powerful, strong thighs, as the fabric of the track pants was stretched at the thickest part of his thigh muscles. You could not help to throw a glance at his shapely glutes and strong hips. When you thought about it, he really had the appearance of some ancient warrior, a samurai maybe. You swallowed quietly, an action he caught you in the middle of.

‘Well, I am done here. I will be taking the rest of the afternoon off today, so I guess I will see you around sometime?’ He spoke.

You just could not let him disappear like this. You gathered your courage and asked

‘Would you have time for a quick coffee then? I changed my mind and will work out later today.’

He studied you for a moment and answered.

‘Why not, actually? I do have the whole day to myself. There is a good café nearby’

You nodded and the two of you started walking out of the gym, him courteously opening the door for you. Luckily, the café really was nearby. You were enjoying your coffee and the casual conversation, but when your fingers met when reaching out for napkins, the two of you went silent almost simultaneously. The truth was that all through the friendly, harmless exchange you were imagining fucking Yoriichi, riding his cock, and touching him in a way that was anything but just friendly. The look in his maroon eyes was starting to reveal something more as well now.

And maybe he could pick up on your feelings because the tension between the two of you was becoming palpable. You were soaking wet between your legs and your breathing was becoming heavy, your arousal was powerful: the contraction of the muscles of your vagina started to feel more and more like a rope being tightly twisted into a knot, and this sensation was now spreading up to your cervix making your insides feel like they were on fire.

He sucked in his lips before finally speaking up.

‘You know, I live just around the corner if you would like to have … some lunch with me.’

As if in a trance you answered

‘Yes, I would like that’

But you already knew what you really would like and sensed that this was something he would like as well…

As soon as you stepped into the elevator, he came closer to you and kissed your lips. Very lightly at first, but as soon as he felt you reciprocate the action, he drew you closer to him and the kiss became deeper, with tongues swirling deep in each other’s mouths. He was holding his hips away from yours for now, most likely due to an increasing hard-on, he was a gentleman after all, and did not want to impose that soon.

His hands were caressing your back and your body started tingling in pleasure. He was so big, you felt cradled and sheltered, and his warm smell was like a feast for your senses. The elevator reached his floor and he led you into his apartment. It was a bright and beautiful space, cradled in light from the large windows, decorated in oriental, presumably Japanese fashion, with tatamis, low large futon like sofas, beautiful prints of Sakura trees and diverse martial arts weaponry adorning the walls.

He closed the door behind him and swiftly had you up against the nearest wall. He lifted you by your buttocks and you wrapped your legs around his hips. All the while you were entangled in a passionate kiss. He lifted you up and started walking toward the bedroom. When he sat you down on the bed, you began to remove each other’s clothes. His body was even more magnificent naked, and the cock looked… huge. Almost uncomfortably huge.

Yoriichi started crawling on the bed and on top of you, his large body towering over you and making you gasp. His warmth, his smell, it was all so close to you and all you wanted was to drown in him, let him devour you and fuck you senseless. He lowered his hips so they were flush with yours between your legs and started rubbing your wet folds and clit. You were moaning in pleasure. With the other hand, he started massaging your breasts and playing with your hard nipples. You were arching your body and moaning shamelessly.

‘Please fuck me, I want to feel you inside me.’

He did not hesitate to fulfill your plea. Aligning the tip of his cock with the entrance to your sopping-wet pussy, he started to enter you.

He was big, almost too big for your small body to take. Slowly and steadily, he was prying his way into you. Every nerve in your core was pulsing, welcoming this new intruder with increasing wetness and spasming muscles. Your pussy was clenching on him so hard that he was quietly groaning while pushing on into you. He finally bottomed out and lifted himself off you slightly to meet your gaze. His gorgeous maroon eyes now clouded in pleasure, he said softly,

‘I will start moving now, do you feel ready?’

Did you ever… ‘Of course,’ was all you could say in a weak voice.

Slowly, at a languid pace, he began to rhythmically pump into you, his hips hitting yours every time he was bottoming out. You have never been this stretched out in your life, his girthy, long cock literally moulding your velvet walls to its shape, hitting your cervix with every slow pump. You were starting to edge, with the sensitive spots deep inside you being stimulated nearly constantly now. He kept on going like this for a while making your eyes roll to the back of your head and drool running down the side of your mouth.

‘Yoriichi, can you go a little faster? I am about to come’ you moaned out to him, as you could not control yourself any longer. The knot inside you running all the way from your opening to the tip of your cervix, was about to burst.

He picked up the pace and soon enough you were slowly dissolving into your climax, your whole body shaking and spasming from the intense pleasure you were gifted. You were so wet now, your cum seeping down your thighs onto Yoriichi. He shuffled himself up slightly and put you in a mating press. His cock was even deeper inside you, he started chasing his own release. His pace increased and soon it was ruthless and fast, abusing your cervix and every overstimulated spot deep inside you. You could feel his heavy balls slam into you with every powerful thrust. The man had the stamina of a god and went on in this unforgiving tempo for quite a while.

Gradually, his thrusts were getting sloppy and when he finally came, filling you up with his warm semen, he bottomed out deep inside you, his hips pushing you up toward the headrest of the bed and staying like this for a couple of seconds. He then pumped into you a few times, following the movement of his spasming abdomen muscles. When he stopped, he sank his head, still hovering over you supported on stretched-out straight arms. Sweat was running down his chest. He slowly rolled over on his back, taking you with him in an embrace that placed you laying down straight on top of him.

And that is when you noticed a presence in the room. You turned your head around towards the doorway and to your shock and surprise you saw your boyfriend stand there, leaning on the door frame with arms crossed and head tilted backwards in a brattish manner. His hair was out and cascading down his shoulder in black ringlets.

‘I hope I am not interrupting. Do you mind if I join in?’ He asked with a smirk. You instantly wondered how long he was there watching you and Yoriichi fucking.

‘Please do, unless y/n has some objections?’ Yoriichi said and tilted your head up to look at him. ‘Are you ok with this, y/n? ‘

‘I guess I don’t mind’ You did not really know what to say, your sex seemingly dictating your choices for you since last night.

‘Good, this will be fun.’ Muzan said and started to get undressed.

In the meantime, Yoriichi moved to his side and let you down on the soft mattress, so that you were on your side facing him. With an already erect dick bobbing in front of him, Muzan walked over to where you and Yoriichi were and crawled into bed to lie down behind you. He kissed and licked your neck, you could feel the metal of the piercing dragging on your soft skin, and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it gently, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. He then leaned into your ear and with a deep, soft whisper asked:

‘How did you like him, doll? Was he big enough for you?’

He kept on kissing your neck and dragging the pierced tongue along it and massaging your body with his hand while pressing his erect cock in your soft ass. Yoriichi at the very same time started kissing your mouth and rubbing your breasts.

You did not think it was at this stage possible to get more aroused, but you did. Your pussy was aching so badly now, all you wanted was for the men to give it to you. Rough, fast however they wished to fuck you. You wanted to feel full, the craving growing for every minute making your insides burn with need. The sensation of both these attractive men being so close to you, their hands touching every part of your body, was making you feral, totally wild with anticipation. Seeing and feeling the athletic, tall, and big Yoriichi, with his smooth and glossy skin and your exotic-looking, tattoo-covered and pierced boyfriend so close to your own body was a sensation that was driving you crazy. It was almost as you were a goddess worshipped at the altar of lust.

‘How do you think we should proceed?’ Muzan asked Yoriichi in a playful tone.

‘Hmm, where we are is good, no offense, but I am the bigger one here, so I think it is best if you go in the backway’ Yoriichi answered.

Muzan sighed and smirked. ‘Good point, do you happen to have lube around here?’ Yoriichi stretched an arm behind him to reach under the bed and pulled out a bottle of anal lube.

‘You dirty fuck, this looks like you have been having some fun’ Muzan noted as the bottle was only half full.’ Yoriichi did not answer to that but his smile said it all.

While Yoriichi was working on your pussy and breasts, Muzan poured a fair bit of lube on your opening and started to massage your puckering hole. Slowly and gently, the sensation was so different from anything you ever experience before, but so delicious at the same time. He slowly pushed in a finger and was circling it gently. A second finger came in and he was scissoring them inside you. Yoriichi was now lining himself up to enter you again. His hard tip rubbing between your folds as Muzan added another finger and was whispering sweet, honey-glazed words in your ears in order to get you relaxed.

‘Be a good kitten for me now, such a gorgeous little obedient doll, I will spread that tight little ass for you and you will beg me for more’

The sweetness in his voice was almost demeaning. He kept on pumping his fingers in you, but you just could not relax.

‘Baby, I can’t do it. Not today. Can we do something else?’

Muzan pulled out his fingers out of you and nodded at Yoriichi

‘Well, doll, in such case you will have to take that huge dick of his down your throat, because I want to be in one of your holes, no matter what.’

You shifted to all four and Yoriichi knelt in front of you offering you his cock. You started licking the leaking tip and pumping the shaft with your small hand, barely getting a proper grip. In the meantime, Muzan positioned himself behind you and all of a sudden slammed his dick into you. This propelled you forward and you almost speared yourself on Yoriichi’s cock, swallowing nearly the entire length. He groaned from the sensation and you gagged heavily. Once the two of you adjusted positions so that you could comfortably work on his dick, Muzan started moving his hips into you again. You worked with the rhythm he was setting as there was no use trying to stay still and resisting his movement from pushing you forward. Every time his hips slammed into you, you sank your mouth over Yoriichi’s cock and you continued like this for a good while.

Your mouth and throat were stretched almost to the brink of discomfort from the huge girth and length. The pleasure you felt from Muzan repeatedly hitting your g-spot was making you moan louder and louder and your moans were sending vibrations through Yoriichi’s dick making it twitch and grow.

‘I’m going to come soon’ he groaned.

He pulled out of you, gave his cock a few pumps and unloaded the content of his balls in your face, warm cum spraying into your open mouth and down your chin and throat. Neither you nor Muzan were far off from your orgasms either. It took a few more fast thrusts from him to make your knot burst and you reaching your release. And a few more thrusts later and Muzan was spraying his cum into your still fluttering walls. The amount of pleasure you experience this afternoon was overwhelming and you collapsed exhausted, but utterly satisfied on the mattress.

Yoriichi got up and came back with a few towels. He helped you clean up your face and handed a towel to Muzan who then cleaned you and yourself up. Yoriichi was the first one to go to the bathroom and have a shower and after him, it was Muzan’s turn. Once the two men were decent again, Yoriichi informed you that they would prepare lunch so that you would have some time to yourself to recover and relax. You spent half an hour in the bedroom and went out to them, still in a complete state of confusion.

‘Hi there. I hope you are hungry.’ Yoriichi said.

‘I seem to have cooked too much pasta, but hey, we need the energy’ he grinned broadly. ‘By the way, I think you owe your lovely girlfriend an explanation’ he said turning to Muzan.

‘Yes, you are right. It is about time to clarify the situation. Sorry to have confused you and sorry for the bit with Amber, I might have gone a bit too far there. You know when I got up to get the drinks at the party? I noticed that you were eyeing off Yoriichi for a while, and out of the blue, and boredom, I came up with a wicked little plan. Something to shake you up and make you more, adventurous. I really wanted to get you out of your shell. So, I texted him quickly what I had in mind and off we went. I am storyteller, after all.’

You turned to Yoriichi, slightly disappointed

‘So… you were not really attracted to me, hey? It was just a game?’

Yoriichi responded ‘Oh no, not at all. Muzan showed me picturess of you many times before and I must say I was envious of him being with someone so smart, kind, and attractive. So, when he suggested this, the idea went straight to my dick.’

Muzan now continued: ‘Amber, that girl, by the way, is a porn actress and married to a friend of mine. They own an adult movie production company together and I have known them both for a while. But back to the story. As I said, I wanted you to see that there is so much more to life than being a prude, that sex is one of the most indulgent pleasures gifted upon mankind and not immersing ourselves fully in that gift is, well, a sin in my eyes.'

'I do believe that deep emotional love, a connection of souls runs deeper than any physical connection ever can. We are all animals and sex is dirty and amazing at the same time, the ultimate tool to express love, yes, but love can exist without it if you know what I mean. I will love you forever, for all eternity. I believe we are soulmates and we are connected and will always be drawn to each other in every world we are born into. Even if we never have sex again, I want you to be mine and mine only. When you want kids and a house with a white picket fence or whatever dream you may have, we will do it, of course. But for now, while we still are young let us indulge in what this carnal world has to offer. I want you to lose all restraints, and fulfill all your desires. When I saw you looking at our glorious friend here, I knew that if that is what you are into, I will make sure you get what you desire.’

When Muzan finally went quiet, it was Yoriichi’s turn to speak and he suddenly went serious.

‘I have known Muzan for a long time, but our friendship blossomed after my wife died. He was there for me all the way through my lowest. And believe me, it was an epic low. She was pregnant with what was to be our first child when she died in a car crash. Some drunken asshole drove into her car on the highway. My beloved wife and I started the gym and later the martial arts dojo together. These were our passions and I will never love anyone like I loved her ever again. All I have left is the gym and dojo and they are like babies to me. I am no monk and need sex, a lot of it, but only for recreation.’

All the time Yoriichi was speaking, Muzan held his arm around your back, his embrace tightening when Yoriichi mentioned the tragic story of his marriage.

‘Well, enough of the seriousness. Let us eat’ Yoriichi interrupted himself now.

You could not help to notice, that he was not the best of cooks, the pasta was slightly overcooked and the sauce too salty, but it was a sweet gesture of him to cook for his friends and by the way you were starving after everything that was happening for the past twenty-four hours. The wine he served with lunch was on the other hand fantastic and after a couple of glasses, the warm, fuzzy feeling of slowly getting tipsy was putting you in a relaxed state.

Looking at the two amazing men, you now started to understand what your boyfriend was talking about and wanted for you all the way. The normal scenario would involve you having to choose one of them, there would be drama, heart-brake and the euphoria of new love would eventually dim by the negative effects of it all. Thanks to Muzan’s approach, however, you never needed to choose now. The love the two of you shared was just as he described, transcending space and time. But the basic, carnal desire you felt for Yoriichi was also real. Being able to have it all, and more… was indeed the best you could ever wish for. Assured in this new discovery, you closed your eyes and let yourself daydream now finally receptive to visualise desires without any more restraints…

Banners by @cafekitsune

Tagging: @doumadono @muzanbloodgalore @muzansfangs @horror4themasses @cursetopia2 @anarcho-satanism

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rennalaqotfm · 2 months ago

Text

𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART III)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Violence, blood and injury, mentions of death, alcohol consumption, angst, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said, (not proofread).

Dialogue in italics is High Valyrian.

WC: 5.4k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had always prided himself on being a capable fighter. Although Jacaerys' strength primarily lay in politics, he never let his swordsmanship fall behind. In fact, Ser Harwin Strong, the captain of the City Watch, and as many whispered, his real father, had taught him everything about the art of yielding a sword. From the correct way of unsheathing the blade to keeping his knees slightly bent so he wouldn't stagger as easily. He still recalled how at the tender age of six, Ser Harwin kneeled to his level as he placed his heavy arm on his shoulder.

'A sword is but a tool. Its true power lies within the one who yields it. Visualise your desired outcome, and your blade will follow.'

Ser Criston Cole, however, had no patience for his idealised notions of battle. While Ser Harwin had taught Jacaerys the foundations of swordsmanship, it was Ser Criston who introduced him to the unforgiving truth of a real battle, proving that sparring with a straw dummy wasn't useful beyond the training grounds.

'When steel is drawn, a fair fight isn't something anyone should expect.'

He still bitterly remembered how Ser Criston had him spar against his uncle Aegon. Anyone who watched that scene would've thought it wasn't a fair battle. Aegon was already four-and-ten, much taller and stronger than he was. Jacaerys still remembered how Aegon's strikes had come faster and harder than anything he had faced before, especially the kick to his stomach that sent him flying to the ground with a thud, and yet, Aegon didn't cease delivering blow after blow with brute force.

'Is this what you teach, Cole? Cruelty to the weaker opponent?'

The sting of defeat, the bruises that lingered for days, and the humiliation of being bested in front of others, particularly his grandsire Viserys, were all part of Ser Criston's lesson. And in that moment, Jacaerys came to realise that cruelty might be something he didn't possess.

Now there was no excuse. It wasn't going to be an unfair battle since Prince Elyas Martell was but a year older than him, and couldn't have trained any differently. However, Jacaerys had never killed a man with his own hands. Yes, he had led men into battle, but taking someone's life with his sword was something he had yet to experience. There was no doubt that killing was nothing more than just a mundane task for Elyas. Those Dornishmen seemed to take pleasure in the most outlandish ways, which made him question how strong of a warrior Prince Elyas was to defeat such great lords.

Then he recalled the story Addam of Hull had told them in Dragonstone, how the reason why Princess Y/n remained unwed was because his suitors had met the common fate of death. As much as he didn't want to believe those rumours, he had bitterly grown to accept that all those tales about the Dornishmen were nothing but true.

The young prince frowned as he took in the arid, unforgiving weather. It would've been foolish to wear his full armour for the trial; the extreme heat would likely cause him to collapse before he even reached the arena. He sported nothing more than a Targaryen breastplate on top of a linen tunic, and his breeches. He considered sporting his gauntlets, but the sweat of his hands would affect the grip on his sword. Even with just the breastplate, he already felt how beads of sweat rolled down his back.

Jacaerys had been so fixated on winning the trial that he barely had any time to process his betrothal with Princess Y/n. He wondered if all of her suitors even wished for power, or mayhaps they were simply entranced by her beauty. Despite her attitude, there was something enticing about the Princess he couldn't bring himself to deny. But what was he going to do if behind that beauty lay nothing but different ideals and hostility? What would the rest of the houses think upon finding out about their alliance with House Martell? How would the two of them rule the whole realm if the Princess put Dorne's interests before the rest of Westeros?

Not to mention, even if he emerged victorious from the trial, he doubted Princess Y/n would be too pleased if her brother's life was the price. The thought gnawed at him as he fastened his boots. But what if he were the one to fall? He couldn't even begin to imagine the devastation it would bring to his mother, and the mere thought of her grief twisted his stomach. Daemon had offered to fight in his place, a suggestion his mother had eagerly supported. Yet, Jacaerys had refused, knowing that the Princess would never consider his proposal if he didn't prove his own worth in the arena. To win her hand without facing the trial himself would be dishonourable.

No matter what he did, all odds were against him.

"It's time," one of the guards spoke behind the door.

One guard led the way, as the other trailed behind him, with his spear in hand, ready to attack if the Prince even attempted to do anything. They walked through the labyrinthine halls of the Old Palace, adorned with pillars and chandeliers, lighting up the place as the blinding rays of sunshine met with the golden decorations.

They stepped into the flourishing gardens leading to the arena, where Rhaenyra and Daemon awaited his arrival. He could hear his mother's voice as they spoke in High Valyrian, unaware of his presence.

"I have lost too many children, Daemon. The thought of losing Jace—" Rhaenyra's voice faltered, her lip quivering as she fought to swallow the rising lump in her throat.

"Elyas would be a fool to slay the Crown Prince," Daemon mumbled.

"You, above all, should know what these people are capable of."

"But killing the future king of the realm is a line they would not dare cross."

"And yet, must the price we pay for this war be our children?" Rhaenyra's voice broke.

"I was not aware how my death would be such an interesting thing to discuss," Jacaerys muttered bitterly.

"Jace," Rhaenyra turned to face her son, cupping his cheek. "For the last time, you do not have to do this—"

Jacaerys swatted his mother's hand off, his eyes full of contempt.

"You have no right to act concerned, Mother. You pushed forward with this, knowing the risks, knowing that I might pay with my life. Whatever fate awaits me in this trial... if I die, my blood is in your hands. But at least I will have done my duty."

Before Rhaenyra could say anything else to her son, the guards urged him to move forward.

With a heavy heart, Jacaerys turned to face her mother one last time, but she was nowhere to be seen as they most likely had been taken to the gallery. Before the guards pushed the double doors they exchanged a look of pity, clearing a path for him. That didn't go unnoticed by the Prince, and it only added to the river of negative emotions he had been drowning in since they arrived.

As Jacaerys stepped through the double doors, the world around him was suddenly swallowed by darkness, with only a narrow beam of light from the distant end of the tunnel. The corridor stretched before him, its walls echoing with the muffled sounds of the world above. He could hear the creak of wooden beams straining under the weight of footsteps, making him wonder how many eyes might be waiting for him outside. The air was cool and heavy, carrying with it the scent of the arena's sands, yet the usual roar of a crowd was eerily absent.

Jacaerys took a deep breath before stepping into the arena. The sun was almost blinding, leaving him momentarily disoriented. Feeling like a caged animal, he scanned his surroundings, shielding his eyes with his hand. To his surprise, there weren't many spectators; he could only make out the members of the Martell council. Then, his eyes quickly found his mother, whose face was etched with deep concern and regret. Nearby, Daemon, unable to sit still, attempted to calm his nerves with a cup of wine. Not very far from where the council sat, there were three empty seats in the royal box, where Prince Qoren took his seat, with Farien on his lap. Jacaerys grew confused as he saw Prince Elyas take a seat next to his father, leaving one empty. Was he not going to fight for his sister? Mayhaps the Princess' champion was her sworn protector.

A few moments had passed, yet the Princess was nowhere to be seen. Jacaerys' mind raced with doubts. Was she not going to attend the trial she herself had proposed?

Suddenly, the double doors opposite him began to open and the Martells began to cheer. Prince Qoren wrapped his arm around Farien, who couldn't stop clapping as he bounced on his father's lap. Elyas signalled one of the servants to bring him a cup of wine, as he leaned back on his seat and looked at Jacaerys with a sneer.

His eyes widened in shock as the figure emerging from the other side of the arena wasn't one of the twins either.

It was Princess Y/n herself.

The Princess strode toward the centre of the arena, the sun-kissed amber fabric of her dress flowing like a whisper with each step. The high slits on either side of the skirt fluttered and snapped, revealing glimpses of her legs as she moved. With a fluid motion, Princess Y/n unsheathed the two golden daggers holstered on her thighs, playfully twirling them around her fingers.

"Princess Y/n Martell, the Dancing Serpent of Dorne, and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, the Crown Prince. Let the trial commence," Ser Domeric Uller announced, earning another wave of applause from the Martells.

Dancing Serpent of Dorne?

Jacaerys took an instinctive step back, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Two guards blocked the door with their spears, leaving no chance of escape. In the glaring sunlight, Princess Y/n appeared like an oasis amid the dunes, her bronze skin glowing with an ethereal radiance, akin to that of a deity. She moved with the lethal agility of a serpent, her eyes locked onto him, calculating, and ready to strike. A storm of doubts began to cloud Jacaerys. What was he supposed to do? Kill her? Maim her?

He suddenly heard Ser Criston Cole's voice echoing in the back of his mind.

'Blades up. Engage.'

As if guided by pure instinct, the Prince unsheathed his sword, the sharp silver catching and reflecting a ray of sunlight. He quickly assumed a defensive stance, his eyes fixed onto the Princess. If he kept his distance, he should have the advantage over her. He lunged, aiming not for a lethal blow, but to knock the Princess off her feet, hard enough to force her to yield.

He was not there to shed blood.

The Princess easily dodged his attack as his blade slashed the air, and he quickly withdrew to his defensive stance. They began circling each other, eyes locked, neither daring to look away.

A bead of sweat trickled down Jacaerys' temple, his heart pounding as he watched Y/n assume a low, unfamiliar stance. She held both of her daggers up, poised like a serpent's fangs as she moved with languid grace, inching closer to him, almost hypnotically.

Before he could fully register the movement, a sharp pain sliced through his arm. Jacaerys hissed as Y/n's blade carved a deep gash, warm blood seeping through his white tunic and dripping onto the sand. He clenched his jaw, forcing the searing pain to the back of his mind, determined to ignore the Martells' cheers echoing around the arena. At least the arm wielding his sword was still intact.

The dance between the dragon and the serpent continued. Y/n darted forward, her twin daggers a blur as she unleashed a relentless flurry of slashes. Jacaerys struggled to block, each clash of steel sending vibrations up his injured arm. As she pressed her assault, he caught a glimpse of something feral in her eyes, a familiar look he knew all too well: bloodlust.

Growing weary of her relentless attacks, he sidestepped one of her strikes and delivered a swift, powerful kick to her side. The sheer force sent the Princess onto the sand with a grunt, one of her daggers slipping from her grasp.

Seizing the moment, Jacaerys lifted his blade to force her to surrender. But before he could strike, the Princess rolled to the side and kicked his shin, sending him stumbling backwards. In a heartbeat, Y/n was on him, knocking the sword from his grasp. She straddled him, raising her dagger high, ready to plunge it into his throat. Jacaerys reacted just in time, catching her wrist in a bone-crushing grip. Y/n cried out, the pain weakening her hold, and Jacaerys seized the opportunity. With a desperate reach, he grabbed the dagger she had previously dropped, which was just at arm's reach, and drove it straight into her side.

"Sister!" Elyas stood from his seat, ready to drive a spear into Jacaerys' heart.

The Princess wailed in agony, her body retracting as she recoiled from the blow. Jacaerys quickly rolled free and scrambled to his feet, retrieving his sword and pointing it at her, his chest heaving as he tried to keep her pinned under the threat of his blade.

"Princess, please, I do not wish to hurt you—"

Jacaerys' eyes widened in horror as he watched Y/n yank the dagger from her side with a wicked grin. Without hesitation, she drove it into his calf. He groaned in pain, nearly collapsing, and used his sword to regain balance, the blade trembling under his weight.

Princess Y/n stood up from the ground, twirling the dagger as she watched the Prince struggle to get back to a defensive stance. Blood trickled down her side, soaking into her dress and staining the sand beneath her a deep crimson colour.

Jacaerys clenched his jaw in humiliation, feeling how pathetic he must have appeared to his mother, Daemon, the Martells, and most of all, to Y/n herself.

Before he could fully recover, Y/n moved like a shadow, slipping behind him. He grunted as she wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him close. The cold edge of her dagger was pressed firmly against his throat, and he dared not move.

He caught a glimpse of his mother, restrained by Daemon and the guards, her blood-curdling screams piercing through the air. It was the last sound he wanted to hear in his final moments. Jacaerys squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the chaos and focus on memories that brought him comfort: the waves crashing against the cliffs of Dragonstone, the rhythmic beat of Vermax's wings cutting through the clouds, and Lucerys' carefree laughter.

As he opened his eyes and looked up at the sky, he smiled bitterly. The absurdity of it all nearly made him laugh. From the moment he had stepped into the arena, he knew he was doomed to fail. Yet, some foolish part of him had clung to the hope that he could make the Princess surrender.

He felt the Princess' laboured breaths in his ear, sending a chill down his spine. He waited, and waited, and waited for the dagger to slash his neck, but the excruciating pain he had anticipated never came.

Instead, a simple command reached his ears. One that, under any other circumstances, he would have defied without a second thought. But at that moment, his life was in the hands of Princess Y/n, and he dared not disobey her.

"Kneel before me," she whispered, making his blood run cold.

Jacaerys felt the Princess's grip loosen, allowing him to stumble forward. He turned back to face her, dropping to one knee, his gaze locked on hers. But in her eyes, he found no trace of mercy, nor cruelty. The bloodlust had drained away, replaced by a storm of emotions she herself couldn't fully comprehend.

That was the first time he had looked closely at the Princess. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, beads of sweat rolling down her temple as a few droplets of his own blood stained her face. There was something undeniably bewitching about her, a pull he couldn't fathom. As he gazed up at the woman before him, a creeping sense of fear began to coil in his chest as he came to realise the power she wielded over him. She was the kind of woman who could either plunge the Seven Kingdoms into chaos or unite them under her command.

"I choose Prince Jacaerys Velaryon as my betrothed," she declared, her voice echoing through the arena as her eyes locked onto Rhaenyra. "House Martell will stand with Queen Rhaenyra in the Targaryen Civil War. In return, we demand control of the Stepstones, the unwavering protection and loyalty of House Targaryen whenever called upon, and the unchallenged independence of Dorne once the war is won. And most importantly," she looked at her father, giving him a firm nod, "I expect an official acknowledgement of Dorne's sovereignty. Let this moment be written in history, for the generations to come."

The dining hall of the Old Palace was in full swing. Delicacies were served in abundance, and the servants scurried about, refilling cups left and right. The Princess was deep into her fifth cup, trying to numb the burning pain of her wound, which had been sewn and bandaged by Maester Kyce, and although her wrist was badly bruised, it wasn't dislocated.

Her gaze shifted to the erotic performance happening before them as they ate. A pair of men and women explored their bodies, trying the most peculiar positions that she never thought were possible. She could only chuckle, the wine painting the scene as the most amusing thing she had ever witnessed. She finished what she had left in her cup, before ushering the servant for more.

It was the only thing that could help her escape the suffocating atmosphere at the round table. Her father wasn't particularly pleased to be sharing the table with the Targaryens, and the feeling was mutual with the Martells. She couldn't bring herself to look at Elyas, whose eyes burned with the desire to start a war. Rhaenyra appeared torn between wanting to have her publicly executed for hurting her son and embracing her for sparing his life—yet even then, Y/n wasn't sure if what she had done was truly an act of mercy. Daemon leaned back, indulging in the finest Dornish wines, smirking as he silently celebrated the small victory of his successful plan. The only person who could have made the ordeal more bearable was Farien, but he was already fast asleep in his chambers.

Then there was Jacaerys. He sat stiffly, trying to focus on anything but her. Yet, there was something about her presence that commanded his attention, and his eyes betrayed him, drifting toward her against his will. Mayhaps her eyes lingered on him longer than she had realised, as their gazes suddenly met. He looked away, as though her eyes just scarred his soul.

"Well, isn't that pathetic..." she muttered under her breath.

That was the man who was to be her future betrothed, a prince who couldn't even meet her gaze without flinching. The thought of marrying someone like him left a sour taste in her mouth.

"Have you got something to say, Princess?" Jacaerys suddenly spat.

"Oh, I most certainly do," Y/n retorted, her lips curling in a mocking grin as she tried her best not to slur her words. Casymir helped her stand up. She took her cup and slowly raised it. "I wish to propose a toast," she began, trailing her eyes at Daemon and Rhaenyra before resting her gaze on Jacaerys. "After all, it's not every day that we witness such a... historic moment. The mighty Dragon, so fierce and proud, finally finds its place... on the ground, with one bent knee before the Serpent. To the ever-lasting and prosperous alliance of House Martell and House Targaryen."

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Prince Qoren hummed in approval, raising his cup with a satisfied smile, while Rhaenyra and Daemon's expressions tightened in shock and disbelief at the blatant disrespect. Daemon's eyes narrowed dangerously, lingering on the knife beside the roast piglet, his fingers inching towards it. But before he could act, Rhaenyra's sharp glare stopped him. Jacaerys, however, had enough of her insolent attitude.

"I wish to propose a toast as well," Jacaerys stood up, wincing at the pain in his leg. "I wish to thank House Martell for their... overwhelming hospitality in receiving the Crown," he paused, taking his time to look at the Martells and each guard. "Not only have we been looked after with the utmost care, every single moment accompanied by the comforting presence of a spear at our backs, but you have also shown us that the great tales they speak of the Dornishmen are nothing but the truth. Fighting against the Princess herself has truly been an honour, and I am forever grateful for the mercy she has shown me. Mayhaps the Princess has a soft spot after all."

"Oh, my Prince," her eyes narrowed, knowing all too well that the mercy Jacaerys had referred to was cowardice. "I would love to have another duel, but I'd much prefer you alive for our wedding."

Jacaerys' face twisted with fury, his anger momentarily blinding him. In a swift motion, he drew his sword. Y/n didn't flinch. Instead, she unsheathed her dagger instinctively, pointing it directly at his forehead.

"We should take this to the arena if the Prince dares, that is," Princess Y/n smirked. "Well?" She taunted, looking down on him.

Jacaerys' nostrils flared with rage, knuckles turning white as he tightly held the grip of his sword. His mother's comforting touch slowly calmed his inner storm, and with a sour look on his face, he put his sword away.

"That's what I thought," she muttered loud enough as she sat back down.

"Aren't they lovely, both of them? Already bickering like an old, married couple," Prince Qoren laughed. "Speaking of, they should marry as soon as possible. The wedding of my beloved daughter should be an event to remember," he turned to the Targaryens. "What do you want, Y/n, dear? We should get a pair of fine Braavosi tigers and make the prisoners fight them in the arena—"

"We are at war, Prince Qoren, we have no time for celebrations," Daemon interrupted him.

"It is only a matter of weeks before Ser Tyland reaches the Free Cities if the winds are in their favour," Rhaenyra echoed Lady Mysaria's words, not able to hide her concern. "Rest assured, once the war has been won, the celebrations will be held in the Red Keep."

"But who can assure me the Prince will not die during this war?" Prince Qoren asked, shrugging his shoulders. "When do you suppose we have the wedding? Once the Prince is dead?"

The Queen's face hardened, her eyes narrowing at him.

"I could have your tongue for that, Prince Qoren," she said coldly.

"I'm glad the formalities are off the table," he muttered bitterly. "Your war can wait. My daughter is of sun and sand and will be married here, in our lands, with our people."

Rhaenyra could barely contain her anger, too tired of hearing the Martells' unreasonable demands. The idea of postponing the war for a wedding felt like a mockery, a distraction from the battle that could determine the fate of her house.

Y/n fought the urge to roll her eyes, too exhausted by the entire ordeal, the weight of her choices, and the tangled mess she now found herself in. With a deep sigh, she drained her cup, forcing herself to adopt a more civil tone.

"As much as I'm enjoying everybody's lovely company, I'm not faring well with my wound. I shall go back to my chambers to rest," the Princess excused herself as Casymir helped her stand up, wrapping his arm around her for support.

By now, the once lavish feast had lost its appeal. The delicacies had grown cold, and the appetite of those present had long since vanished.

"I'll see to it that my sister returns to her chambers safely," Elyas excused himself, rising from his seat and trailing after the Princess.

"Elyas isn't happy about your decision," Casymir said softly as he cradled the Princess in his arms.

Casymir chose to take the long path through the gardens back to her chambers, where the light of the full moon bathed everything in a silvery glow, and the warm evening breeze carried the scent of blooming magnolias. The flickering torches along the way cast dancing shadows, soothing the Princess' spirits.

"I figured as much," she scoffed. "He'll come to understand in due time."

"I'm afraid he won't, Princess," Casymir teased, making her laugh.

"Not even if I explain?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He'd understand even less," Casymir replied with a grin, his words drawing another burst of laughter from her.

At that moment, it was clear that Casymir was the only one who could truly reach her heart. She looked up at her half-brother, noting the familiar wild curls and thick brows they shared. Yet, unlike the brown eyes she and her other brothers had, his were a deep shade of blue, like the glittering Dornish waters on a sunny day.

"You should've been a jester instead, Cas," she murmured, her voice growing softer as the effects of the wine finally began to lull her into sleep. She nestled closer to his chest, allowing herself to relax completely in his arms.

"I'd rather be your shadow, Princess," his eyes softened, watching her doze off.

By the time they had arrived at her chambers, Y/n was already snoring lightly. Casymir raised his brow upon seeing his twin waiting outside.

"Leoran?" Casymir asked. "What are you doing here? Where's Elyas?"

"Inside. I'd hurry if I were you," Leoran said, opening the door for them.

Casymir stepped inside, only to find Elyas sitting on one of the seats. By the look on his face and the empty cup on the table, it seemed that he had been waiting for a while.

"What took you both so long?" He asked, looking at his half-brother in disdain.

"We were in the gardens, Y/n wanted to—"

"Leave us," he commanded.

"Very well," Casymir lowered his gaze and nodded.

He laid the Princess on her bed carefully, brushing a strand of hair off her face, but she already seemed to have been awoken by Elyas' voice. Y/n sat up, rubbing her eyes, only to be greeted by a pounding headache and a sharp pain on her side. Once she spotted her brother with his arms crossed, sitting down across from her, she groaned.

"Well?" He asked, expectantly.

"Not now, Elyas," she sighed.

"Then when?" He stood up and kicked the chair aside. "When? When were you going to tell me what you and Father were planning?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, feeling her headache worsen as Elyas' voice boomed in her ears.

"Planning?" She scoffed. "Father didn't have a say in my decision. He gave me two choices, and I merely chose the one that wouldn't lead to bloodshed."

"Oh, really? What were these two grand choices?" He pressed.

"Side with the Blacks and keep our independence, or refuse, and face the Triarchy and the Greens once this war is over," she paused, gathering all of the patience she had left to keep going. "Do you understand what that would mean, Elyas? It means another war, right on our doorstep. For us. For Dorne. For our people. And tell me, what should I have chosen? More bloodshed? More meaningless deaths? You think that's what Father would've wanted?"

"If you had told me, then I could've helped you decide!" Elyas' voice cracked with frustration, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Help me decide?" She retorted. "And by that, do you mean killing the Velaryon boy?"

"Why not?" Elyas shot back. "You had the chance! You could've slit his throat and ended it all, yet you chose to spare that bastard's life."

"And what would that have accomplished?" She shouted. "Had I killed him, you'd be nothing but a pile of ashes right now. Rhaenyra would've burned us all to the ground before I could even take his head."

"She wouldn't have dared!" Elyas shouted back, his face inches from hers, as though she was the most foolish person to live. "The last thing she needs is another war on her hands, especially against us. Her own house is already tearing itself apart!"

"Very well. If you're so smart, what would you have done?" She scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Face the Triarchy and the Greens. We were victors in the First Dornish War, Y/n. We fought then, and we could fight again. We could win."

"You? Fight?" She sneered. "Tell me, when their dragons' flames rain upon our cities, our people, what would you do? Hide behind the walls of our palace? The same walls that would be turned into ashes? Listen to me. We are not made for wars like this, Elyas. We're not prepared to face something as devastating as another Dornish war."

"And that's why we have those people fighting for us!" Elyas retorted, pointing furiously out the window.

"Those people?" she asked in disbelief. "It should be us fighting for them under those circumstances! Do you not care about the lives beyond the confines of this palace?" She turned away, already feeling her tears pooling in her eyes. "No wonder Father doesn't trust you."

"You both have no clue what you're doing. You're putting our house to shame by trusting the enemy," without warning, he grabbed her injured wrist, yanking her close. She gasped, a sharp pain shooting up her arm, but he didn't relent. "Tell me, sister," he hissed, his face inches from hers. "When this war is over, how will you know they'll keep their word? All those demands you made... you sounded so righteous, so powerful like you had the Targaryens wrapped around your finger. But you know exactly what they think of us. To them, we're nothing but foolish, power-hungry savages," he tightened his grip slightly, causing her to wince again. "And do you know what you've done, dear sister? You just proved them right."

"I'll have your whole arm if you dare lay your hands on me again," she tried to pry her wrist off of him, her voice quivering as her composure began to waver. "You're starting to forget your place, Elyas."

"And you're starting to forget what it truly means to be a Martell," he tightened his grip even more, watching as the Princess sucked a breath in through her teeth.

Elyas let go of her with a push, making the Princess stumble back on her bed. Y/n massaged her wrist with her other hand as she buried her face in her bed, heaving, and squeezing her eyes shut. She flinched upon hearing Elyas' heavy footsteps leave, the door slamming once he left her chambers.

The Princess slowly got up to pick up the jug of wine lying on the table. Upon finding out it was empty, she flung the jug across the room with a frustrated yell. Her strength gave out, and she collapsed to the ground, burying her face in her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her sobs filled her chambers. The soft knocks on her door went unanswered; she knew it was Casymir, the one person who could bring her comfort, yet she couldn't bear to let him see her that way.

Her father's words echoed in her mind. She was destined to be the Princess of Dorne, a role she had fully embraced for as long as she could remember. Yet there she was, crumbling under the pressure, feeling as though every decision she made was beyond her control, burying her deeper into a grave she herself had dug.

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Thank you for being so patient with me. This chapter was a lot longer than I had expected, but here it is. Let's just take a moment and give our Princess Y/n a big hug, she needs it. I don't know why, but i'm having waaay too much fun making these extremely dramatic dialogues. and I live for their drama, tbh.

I also mentioned this before, but I'm having trouble tagging everyone. Some @'s would tag, but for some reason, some of the usernames just appear like normal text. I've double-checked every username and typed them over and over, but i still can't tag you all. Would be great if you guys could tell me how to fix this!

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a @yohanseyebrowmole @dracaryxzs @ladyofvelaryon @burningwitchobject @lovelyteenagebeard @radtragedyarcade @dragonrider-3000 @labellapeaky @wintersoldier-101 @hummusxx @vastseamind @miksxz @cornbreadwithcheese @boiolay @op-oppai-blog @hajmola-vs-aamchaska @nichmeddar @ilovemingandming @Mgurl @marr3adsyou @lotus-888 @icarusvshozier

#dragonspear #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace x you #jace x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house martell #oc x reader #oc x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x you smut

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natalievoncatte · 2 months ago

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The heat was getting to be a problem.

The power had been out in National City for three days, and those three days were expected to be among the hottest of the year. Lena was, frankly, desperate.

You might think that she’d have it easy, but anyone who would think that a penthouse in a skyscraper would be easy to cool would quickly be disabused of that notion. The windows mostly didn’t open and having the balcony doors spread wide did next to nothing when the breeze felt like opening an oven, even up here.

It had been Alex’s suggestion, sent by text.

Why don’t you go to Kara’s? The loft is pretty breezy.

She was right, of course. When Lena arrived, Kara had every one of her huge loft windows open, allowing the breeze to flow freely through the open, airy space.

There was another problem, though.

When Kara opened the door, Lena nearly keeled over. Kara was wearing a sports bra and shorts so short they barely deserved the name, exposing a vast amount of golden, sun-kissed skin. Worse, her gloriously muscled stomach and shoulders glistened with sweat.

Lena was surprised to see that the heat bothered her, but it clearly did. Kara had forgone her glasses, too, and after she opened the door, she swept the back of her hand across her forehead and sighed.

“Hi,” Lena squeaked.

“Hi yourself. Hot out there?”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Come in, come in,” said Kara.

Lena stepped inside, forcing herself not to stare at Kara’s thick thighs and the swell of her chest under straining fabric. Was that zipper some advanced Kryptonian technology?

“Want something to drink?”

“Isn’t your fridge dead, too?”

“Yeah, but I cheat. Watch.”

Kara slipped a bottle of water out of a pack on her counter and breathed on it. Ice crystals formed on the surface and the water visibly chilled. It shocked Lena when she accepted it and the cold water on her lips was bliss. Lena let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of cold spreading through her chest, cooling her body.

When she opened her eyes, Kara was the one staring. Lena had thrown on a short, a-frame sun dress that bared her back, for no other reason than making sure that her skin could have as much surface exposed to the air to evaporate and cool her down as possible.

“So what are you up to?” Lena asked.

Kara gestured to the notebook and stacks of papers on the table.

“Old-fashioned journalism, I guess. My laptop battery died yesterday.”

“I thought you’d be out there trying to fix the power.”

Kara shrugged. “With what, my super-electrician powers?”

Lena shot her a look, raising her brow.

Kara turned away, heading for the windows.

Oh, Jesus, Lena thought.

It wasn’t as if Lena hadn’t… noticed Kara’s physique. She wasn’t blind, after all. They’d taken spin class together, and Kara liked to wear leggings on the weekends.

But holy shit, those shorts made her ass look… Super.

Lena was still fumbling over a buns of steel pun in her head when Kara turned back.

“Hey, you okay? Your heart raced for a second there.”

“F-fine,” said Lena.

“Alex and the others are coming over tonight for an emergency game night,” said Kara. “I better get ready.”

For the next couple of hours, Lena helped Kara neaten up her apartment and prepare non-perishable snacks and a cooler full of beer and wine coolers, chilled care of Kara. Alex and Kelly were the first to show up, with Alex giving Lena a cheeky look as she walked into the apartment.

“Hey, you two,” she said. “Been having a hot time?”

There was something brittle in Kara’s laugh that set Lena a little on edge, and the Danvers sisters shared one of those looks they shared that made Lena wonder if they could communicate telepathically. Whatever the message was, it made Kara look away first, distracting with an offered beer that Alex gladly accepted.

Lena took a wine cooler, wishing it were wine.

Nia and Brainy showed up next, followed by J’onn, who was the only one fully dressed in a button-down shirt and khakis, while everyone else was dressed for the beach or a track meet.

Lena sat on the floor, because the hardwood was cool under her butt, and leaned back against Kara’s couch. Kara sat beside her and Lena’s heart definitely sped up.

Looking over, it was hard to tear her eyes away. Kara made a magnificent display- the blocky weight of her shoulders, full biceps and strong arms and bulky, sculpted forearms. Lena’s eyes followed the vein on the back of Kara’s arm down the back of her strong hand and the elegant lengths of her fingers.

Kara kept her nails neatly trimmed like that because of Supergirl duties, right?

Right?

“Hey Luthor? You having a heat stroke?” said Alex. “You look spaced out over there.”

Alex had a playful grin plastered on her face, though she too was sweating profusely. A cooler breeze rolled in through the big windows and everyone sighed in delight.

Except J’onn. “What shall we play first?” she said.

“Clue!” Nia chirped.

“Brainy always kicks our ass at Clue,” said Alex, “and I am not playing Monopoly with a literal billionaire again.”

“Perhaps we should play Risk,” said J’onn, rifling through the game shelf.

“We could try Twisted,” Kara suggested in a deadpan voice.

Lena swallowed hard, thinking of herself tangled up on the mat with Kara, clothes glued to their skin by sweat, salty skin sliding against salty skin, the scent of her…

“Earth to Lena,” said Alex. “Got any ideas?”

“Exploding Kittens,” said Lena. “We haven’t done that one in a while.”

“Kara, chill us some cold ones, will you?” said Nia.

Once everyone had a rapidly warming drink, Brainy dealt the cards and the game began. Alex called Kara out for peeking several times, with that loaded Danvers Sisters Look and an almost predatory smirk.

She wasn’t the only one peeking.

Lena participate in the game but her mind was elsewhere, specifically the valley of Kara’s broad back, where sweat gathered between her muscles and rain down in heavy beads, or the sweat gathering along her collarbone or sparking along the lush inner curves of her tightly contained breasts.

“Hey,” said Kara. “It’s your turn, Lena.”

Then she reached over and brushed damp lock of inky hair out of Lena’s eyes.

She could have melted. She swallowed hard, brushed the sweat from her brow, and made a hasty and wasteful play that would probably cost her any chance of winning, but she didn’t care. The game seemed at most a distant concern.

Kara’s tongue glazing along her soft pink lips was much more interesting. They’d pretty much all given up on makeup but Kara was still positively radiant, soft and inviting and homey in a way that made Lena ache in her chest.

And, uh, other places.

It was full dark now, so they finished the game and Kara and Alex got up to light a few candles.

“This is like camping,” said Nia.

“We should have thought to procure ‘marshmallows’, said Brainy. “Kara could toast them with her heat vision.”

“We hardly need more heat. I’m boiling,” said Lena.

J’onn let out a soft grunt. “It’s my turn to go on patrol. I think I’ll be the first to head out.

Everyone gave their goodbyes as he headed out the window. The others huddled closer around the table, lit by the candle sitting in the middle.

“We should tell scary stories,” said Alex. “Like around a campfire.”

“Since it was your idea, you go first,” said Kelly.

Alex leaned into it with abandon, leaning in over the table as she started spinning a campfire yarn that Lena quickly recognized as The Hook.

Kara edged closer, until her bare thigh pressed against Lena. She leaned in close, and it wouldn’t have taken much for Lena to… rest her head on Kara’s shoulder. It just kind of happened, Kara’s scent filling her nostrils as she turned into Kara.

Lena flinched as Kara shot her a concerned look.

She can hear my heartbeat.

Kara must have thought Lena was scared, because she casually slipped an arm around her.

Lena’s breath caught. Kara’s powerful arm rested lazily around her hip and her relaxed hand rested on Lena’s thigh, fingers placed lightly on bare skin.

It was a powerfully possessive gesture, not just protective but… more. Lena shifted a little and let herself completely fall against Kara.

Alex kept on telling the story, her gaze pausing heavily on the two of them as she scanned the room. Brainy looked bored but Nia looked genuinely petrified and Kelly was looking at her wife with the kind of adoring reference that was currently plastered on Lena’s face as she looked up at Kara.

Alex reached the crescendo of the story and Lena let out a little gasp, turning her face into Kara’s neck, more for the sake of it than out of fear. Kara’s hand stroked lazily up and down her back.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get you,” Kara whispered.

“You two okay over there?” said Alex.

“Fine,” said Kara.

“There are two actual couples here and you two are the ones doing the heavy petting.”

They weren’t heavy petting. Okay sure, Lena had her fingers curled around Kara’s hip and Kara’s hand was staring to pass the platonic zone when stroking her back but…

Oh.

“It’s getting late,” said Kelly. “Maybe we should head home.”

“Agreed,” said Nia. “Come on, Brainy.”

Lena and Kara didn’t get up.

The others did, piling out of the apartment. Alex went last, shooting Kara another of those damned looks, smiling like a self-satisfied cat after a big stretch.

The door closed and Kara yawned.

“Mind if I stay?” Lena said, quickly. “My place is just too hot to sleep.”

“Of course,” Kara said softly.

Lena didn’t move. They were alone now, the apartment dark except for candles that threw flickering shadows and made Kara even more ethereal. Lena could barely believe someone so gorgeous could be real.

“Lena,” Kara said quietly. “Have you ever thought about…” she trailed off.

“About what?”

“Us. What we are to each other.”

“Yes,” said Lena.

“Me too.”

“What are you thinking?” Lena asked.

“You’re my best friend. You mean more to me than basically anyone else, and the thought of you has kept me going through some really dark times.”

When Kara smiled for her, her eyes lit up, sparkling in the candlelight, like moonlight dancing on nighttime waves. She was entrancing.

“I…” Lena began. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as just a friend. There’s more on the table if you want it.”

“More like… kissing?”

“Yes, exactly.”

This was actually happening. It was real, not a daydream or a fantasy. Kara moved with agonizing slowness, full of a gentle, kind intensity as she leaned down and lightly brushed her lips across Lena’s.

It was like being tossed in a tub of ice water… in a good way. Lena shivered as Kara cupped her jaw and went for another kiss, more forcefully this time, more insistent. The breathed as one.

“Kara,” Lena whispered.

She couldn’t help it. Lena dragged her tongue over Kara’s skin, tasting the sweat pooled at the base of her neck. Kara let out a low moan followed by a deep basso rumble in her chest, pulsating in time with her breathing.

“Did you just lick my sweat?”

“Are you purring?!”

Kara giggled. “I can do lots of things.”

Lena looked up at her with lidded eyes. “Oh yeah? Show me what you got.”

She squeaked as Kara picked her up in a single smooth motion, and with a self-satisfied smirk, carried her towards the bed.

Later, as they lay in a tangle of perspiring limbs atop sweat-soaked sheets, the power thumped back on and the air conditioning began to blow over them, chilling Lena’s skin.

She barely noticed.

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intheupside · 8 months ago

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Crosby has privately and publicly said on many occasions — most recently for this article from The Athletic — that he intends to finish where he started in the NHL. Fenway Sports Group, which owns the Penguins, views making Crosby a Forever Penguin as its top priority.

If an extension isn’t announced on July 1, it’ll only be because Crosby might still be shrugging off another disappointing season by vacationing in Europe.

If he signs for three seasons, Crosby will play through the ends of current contracts belonging to Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang— the two teammates with whom he is closest, not to mention the ones he pushed for the team to re-sign a couple of years ago.

The point is that Crosby isn’t going anywhere else to play NHL games.

If that upsets pot-stirrers who have gone out of their way to push this “Crosby deserves better” than what the Penguins have become — oh well. It might be tough for some people to accept, but they don’t get to decide what’s best for Crosby.

The Penguins are best for Crosby. Full stop.

I’m old enough to have been there when Lemieux didn’t even make it halfway through his 17th season with the Penguins. It was Crosby’s rookie season. Granted, Lemieux was four years older than Crosby is now. Still, he recognized then — as did former Penguins coach Michel Therrien — that Crosby, even at 18, was ready to lead the franchise on and off the ice.

Crosby is still the only guy for that job.

Before Crosby, the Penguins’ brand was built around star power, flashy scorers and high-end skill players. All those aspects remain, but Crosby infused the franchise with a blue-collar sensibility that Pittsburgh fans crave from their teams — even if several generations have passed since the city was a gritty, lunch pail, steel town.

The way Crosby plays changed what it meant to be a Penguin. His skill was obvious, but he hardly relied on God-given gifts. He worked his massive posterior off to win every puck battle, set up each or score each goal, and lift the Cup three times.

Doing that work — setting an example that the best and most popular player is also the hardest working and concerned with the team above the individual — made Crosby an icon. He’s still doing that work, even without a chance for his team to compete at the highest level.

As a student of history, but also someone who is studious when it comes to the franchise he’s shepherded for almost two full decades, Crosby is wise enough to know the chance — even if slight — to shape the next great Penguins team is more interesting than chasing a fourth title somewhere else, even if that somewhere is in Denver with his pal MacKinnon.

It won’t be easy. It might not happen.

But since when is Sidney Crosby not up for a challenge?

from the athletic

#pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby #kris letang #evgeni malkin

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themeraldee · 1 month ago

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Anywhere, you're mine

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 2.3k | Homelander x female!Reader | Exhibitionism. Mild dub-con but tagging just in case. Frottage. Overstimulation. Messy mixed POV.

Written for cozy corner kinktober prompt #2: Exhibitionism

It’s not the first time Homelander takes you flying but it’s the first time he has you questioning his intentions.

It doesn’t feel like the first few times he’s flown you up and around New York. That time he was just excited to share his most celebrated superpower with you. Gathering you in his arms, slowly flying over the skyline, showing you a view nobody else gets to see.

This time there’s a tension in his jaw you’re unfamiliar with. As if he’s biting back from saying something or doing something too early. He still flies at a slower speed, knowing your human body isn’t capable of handling the speeds he considers leisurely.

He still holds you in a bridal carry. A carry he’s particularly fond of as he gets to hold you close and tight and you have no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck, seeking his warmth and support. Just how he likes it.

He slowly lands on top of one of the Chrysler building gargoyles. Presenting a view that adorns many postcards. It’s the all-too-familiar skyline that you already get to see from the floor to ceiling windows of his penthouse, but now you’re right in the middle of it.

“We’re here?” You ask, still holding tight onto him, unwilling to stand on your own feet. Just the thought of being one wrong move away from your demise has your stomach rolling with anxiety.

“Yup. What, not impressed?” He chuckles, retracting his arms from underneath your legs.

“That’s not—Wait wait wait! I’m gonna fall.” Your heart drops when you no longer feel his steel grip around you and you’re forced to stand your feet on the structure underneath you.

For a second that to you feels an eternity long you’re barely breathing or moving, getting the sense that any odd breath will make you fall off.

Heights aren’t usually an issue when you fly with him but suddenly being responsible for your own survival feels a lot more nerve wracking.

“You’re not gonna fall.” He turns you around, your back flush against his chest, his steel grip back around you again as his arm wraps around your middle, grounding you in that secure hold.

“There ya go. Come on now, don’t worry. You seriously think I’d let you fall?”

“No! Of course not. There’s just not a lot of space here.” You let out a nervous chuckle. Your voice quivers just like your legs do when you look down. Your feet are only a few inches away from the edge and instead of admiring the view in front of you, you’re laser focused on keeping them as far away from the ledge as possible.

“Well you better keep close then. Wouldn’t want anything to happen.” And like the asshole he is he shakes you in your place with his arm still securely wrapped around you. That doesn’t mean it stops you from shrieking loud and shrill at the feeling of losing the security you were just thinking of getting comfortable with.

If you were anywhere else, you’d be swatting him across the chest for his cruel move but here your legs feel like jelly and your lower body feels like it’s gotten off a theme park ride. Your gut is in knots and you only feel it untangle itself when he’s comfortingly rubbing the bare skin of your arm up and down all while nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

With the warm summer day having just passed you’re still sporting the same dress Homelander gifted you, but with the drop in temperature in the late hours you already feel the goosebumps appear with each shiver. The cold leather just makes it worse as the goosebumps become more pronounced and you let out a full body shiver right against him. You would have changed if you had known about this impromptu night adventure but he scooped you up and set off into the night without as much as a word.

“It’s cold up here.” You look down at the bustling city still bursting with energy at this hour but little of its sound travels all the way up here.

“Hmm, don’t worry, I’m gonna warm you riiight up.” He rumbles right in your ear.

And before you question it he does. He unzips the side of your dress, leaving the zipper open where it ends by your hips. His gloved hand slides right in, getting a handful of your right breast. The shock of the cold leather on your skin is quickly replaced by the heat creeping up your body to the tips of your ears.

“Homelander! Wha-what the fuck?!”

“What’s the problem sweetheart? Look at that, you’re already warming up.” He hums and shoves his hand underneath the cup of your bra, moving it askew. The leather pinches around your nipple forcing a squeak out of you.

Just like that you feel like you’ve been put on display for the whole world to see. Your body may not be exposed but you doubt anyone wouldn’t be able to put two and two together and realise Homelander really just took you out here for some adult fun.

“P-people will see.” You say in a hushed whisper as if anyone could hear. All the potential onlookers are too far to see what’s going on yet you feel like you’re surrounded. The quiet hum of the city below suddenly feels overwhelmingly loud. Your eyes move back and forth between buildings, streets or windows as if your ordinary human eyes could make out anything but the lights dotting the skyline.

“Hmm, lucky them.” He sounds as smug as can be and you feel the tension he’s been carrying dissipate and if anything, transfer itself onto you. Your legs are shaking. Not from fear. Not from the chill in the air. The embarrassment has your body responding in ways you’re not used to.

“Ooor do you not think they'd be lucky to see you like this?” You feel his sharp grin against the soft skin of your neck as he’s messing with you. He’s nipping at it, kissing it sweetly, knowing exactly how to get you to melt into his embrace when he wants you to do things you’re reluctant to. He knows you’ll enjoy this. He’s doing it for you, really. With that he adds. "I know I feel pretty lucky."

“We—ah—really shouldn’t be doing this.” You do your best to dissuade him from exposing you in public but he’s set on what he’s come here to do and you’re not one to easily say no to the man.

“Babe, I can do whatever the fuck I want. We can do whatever the fuck we want.” He pulls his hand out from underneath your bra cup. Instead he pulls up the fabric of the back of your dress up, pinning the bunched up swell of it above your ass and in between both of your bodies.

Unable to resist he greedily squeezes your ass with the hand that’s not holding you stable, groaning into your neck. You feel his hot breath and the wet lick of his tongue when he draws a line from the base of your neck to your ear earning himself a delightful moan. It's those natural sounds you make that make him harder than anything else. When you squeak out your little whimpers and whines or when those pretty moans spill out freely from your lips it’s like you’re serenading him a song you wrote just for him.

And fuck, he can’t wait any longer.

His hand lands on the waistband of your underwear and he squeezes the dainty lace fabric in his fist.

With a quick snap of his wrist he pulls at the fabric, ripping it off your body and throwing the tatters of it into the wind.

You yelp in shock, both of your hands landing on the arm he has wrapped around your middle as if clutching onto him for more support. You don’t try to catch the ruined panties when he throws them, caring for your life more than the embarrassment of some stranger stumbling across your ruined underwear once it lands somewhere in the city.

It’s not that, neither it is the feeling of him rubbing up against you that makes you clutch your pearls. You usually only get to feel the hard shell of his suit anyway. No. It’s the familiar hiss of his zipper that beyond your comprehension invokes a pavlovian response in you, already wetting your cunt, rolling the heat from your gut straight to your throbbing clit.

He can smell this change in you, inhaling deeply as if he finally got a breath of fresh air he’s been so desperate for.

“There’s my girl. I knew you’d enjoy this too.” You don’t have to turn around to know exactly what kind of pleased, self-assured face he’s pulling. You’ve seen it each time he’s introduced you to all the kinks of his you’ve ended up loving. Sometimes even more than him. It’s clear he’s hoping this to be another one.

You feel him pull out his cock, pushing it right against your ass. Albeit not new the feeling still makes you blush. Being out here, potential seen by anyone with a keen eye sends a strange thrill down your spine now that you’re not the only one who’s exposed.

While he’s got your mind occupied with the arousing feeling of his cock against your bare ass, he slips his hand down the front of your dress. He graciously keeps the front of you covered from too many prying eyes, though it’s not hard to tell what he’s doing when he squishes himself closer. His cock sitting warm and snug in between your cheeks, his head resting right on your shoulder and the hand he’s not holding you with is already toying with your clit in a way that has your knees buckle.

“Don’t stop, don’t ssstop.” You hiss with pleasure and for a moment you forget where you are and that the breeze comes from being 300 metres high in the air. The familiarity with which your body responds to him is comforting. You let yourself sing for him freely as he rubs your clit expertly, his teeth nipping at your ear when he’s not whispering how he wants you to cum for him. How he wants you to cum all while anyone can catch a glimpse of your unravelling.

And with the precision of a man who’s spent many hours with his hand in between your legs he rubs you into an orgasm. The peak of it has your legs shaking to the point where he lifts you up a little, giving you the chance to really just relax into the way your body quivers and tingles from the mouth watering climax.

And just when you think he’s happy and done after having debauched you for the whole world to see he puts you down, pulling his hand back, bending a little in the knees so he can slide his cock right in between your thighs.

The surprise of it strangely has you moving right against him rather than away. Your thoroughly soaked cunt finds its happy place right on top of his cock, coating the top of it with a generous amount of slick.

And just like you typically sing for Homelander, he has his own tune made just for you. He whines needily, not even trying to hold back as he pulls you closer. One hand on your hip, the other still securing you around your middle while he drags his hips back and forth, the wet slide of his cock deafeningly loud.

His cock rubs the whole length of your cunt, the tip of it poking at the fabric of the front of your dress each time his hips are flush with yours.

The head of his cock catches on your clit with each slide, normally an incredibly pleasant and warm sensation but now it’s piercing hot as it stimulates your burning clit to lengths you’re not used to.

A whine breaks out past your lips in desperation.

“It’s too much, too much, p-uh-please, Homelander!”

“Just a little longer, you can do it for me. Can’t you?” He sounds just as wrecked as you. His voice quivers, his thrusts stutter. You know he’s not gonna last long. A fact you’re partially grateful for as the force with which he douses your clit with furious friction is making you lose your mind.

You let out a little affirmative sound that resembles a sob and you let him use you how he seemed fit. The unrelenting pressure you can’t seem to escape is nothing you’ve ever been able to achieve yourself.

The novelty of it catches your body off guard and the burning feeling spreads all the way down your limbs as you orgasm on his cock, giving in to the intense sensation one more time. And while he can’t feel your cunt pulsating around his cock like he’s used to, he still feels you convulse and throb against him.

Which is more than good enough for him to reach the finish line.

Once you collect your thoughts again you watch as he thrusts a few more times in between your thighs. His cockhead pushes against the fabric of the front of your dress each time, now wetting it with long dribbles of cum.

You watch as the fabric takes on a darker colour where it’s soaked in his cum. If you weren’t out of your mind with your own pleasure you might have reflected on the debauchery you just partook in but instead you blankly stare at the droplet of cum that lands on the surface you’re standing on. You’ve got half a mind to crouch and wipe it down with your already ruined dress but you don’t feel like tempting fate with a fall to your early death.

Surely the rain will get it. And at this point you couldn’t care less. All you want to do now is get flown back home and wrapped up in your hero's arms.

And per usual, your hero is more than happy to oblige. Just like you’ll do anything for him, he does the same for you.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss

@hom3landr @mrsdesade @nommingonfood

#little messy but I really wanted to fill today's prompt #tagging this as #dub con #just in case bcs reader is apprehensive #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction #cozy corner kinktober 2024

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townpostin · 2 months ago

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Jamshedpur FC's Murray Delights at Antaragani Fest

Star forward dances to Santhali song, shares football tips with students Jordan Murray, Jamshedpur FC’s star forward, captivated attendees at the Antaragani Sports & Cultural Fest in Tirildih. JAMSHEDPUR – Jordan Murray, the star forward of Jamshedpur FC, delighted the audience with his football talents and dance moves during his visit to the Antaragani Sports & Cultural Fest at High School…

#Antaragani fest Tirildih #आयोजन #football inspiration Jamshedpur #High School Tirildih cultural event #ISL 2023 season preparation #ISL star community engagement #Jamshedpur FC community outreach #Jharkhand cultural showcase #Jordan Murray Jamshedpur FC #Rotaract Club Steel City #Santhali dance football player #Sports

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gurugirl · 10 months ago

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Can We Start Over? | Ch. 1 The Winter Ball

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 1. Summary: You meet Harry at your boss's retirement party and your night ends with a bang.

Word Count: 10k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, alcohol consumption, angst

Can We Start Over? masterlist

The winter ball was something Mr. Spector threw every year for his clients, colleagues, and other wealthy people he wanted to be seen with. This one was like the past three you’d attended, but unlike the others, this would be the last. Your boss, Mr. Spector was retiring, and he was moving to Italy. You were happy for him. Truly. He’d been good to you the past three and half years you spent working for him. You took on the duty of a personal assistant and friend. The friend part came naturally, of course. It wasn’t part of your job description but you honestly really liked Mr. Spector. He wasn’t nice to most people. But to you, he was kind of like the dad you never had. He was hard-nosed but he was fair and somehow you two just clicked.

You worked for one of the most elite household talent staffing companies out there. Your clients usually consisted of, not just wealthy people, but filthy rich and usually the kind that wanted to fly under the radar and needed the utmost discretion. In Mr. Spector’s case, he didn’t want his spiteful children to know how much he was really worth. Sure they were in the will, and they’d certainly do well upon his passing (that was all they seemed to care about), but they’d never see the real number of his assets until it was too late and everything was already doled out according to Mr. Spector’s wishes.

And so you helped him in any way you could to achieve this façade. You found a private accountant for him to move money about and helped him keep the appearance of not having the kind of money he actually did. You suggested, for example, that he not buy the Rolls Royce but that the Mercedes should be sufficient, and that rather than wearing a 31-million-dollar Patek Philippe, diamond-encrusted watch, he go with the more basic, 25-thousand-dollar stainless steel sports model Rolex instead. So he still maintained an air of wealth and prestige because there was no question to anyone that he was super rich. But you just helped him bring it down a notch.

And his winter ball was more like his retirement party this time around. He’d really gone all out. Despite your hesitation with some of his selections, you figured you’d give him this one. And you could admit that helping to plan his parties was one of your favorite tasks. You’d fly to venues all over the world seeking the best (once they’d been narrowed down of course) for him. Find the best chefs and mixologists, the perfect planners and decorators. You got to help select finishings, menus, and staff, right down to the types of linen and even the theme of the events.

And the theme of the night was A Secret Garden in the City. For this, you found a penthouse in Manhattan with full 360-degree views. The space was empty when you first arrived to look at it. You were told it wasn’t a place normally rented for parties but that the owner had intended to make it a fancy restaurant at some point. But it had been sitting for years, empty. And you found the place because Mr. Spector knew everyone. You had a number for a real estate agent to the wealthy in New York City and he gave you a bit of insider information. The penthouse space, he’d told you, could be negotiated by the owner to rent given the right price.

You had landscapers come in and make a garden of the space. Flowers, grass, trees, bushes, vines, even a lily pad pond… when everything was put together, it really did look like you were in a secret garden in the middle of Manhattan. Delicate string lights lit the space, the ceiling was painted a dark sky color so it felt as if you were outside. The table settings were like something out of a Hobbit’s Tale with knotty oak chairs with green silk cushions. The linens were of green satin silk with gold embroidery design and the napkins were gold satin. Centerpieces were potted leafy plants of all types, and moss was placed around the pots to give them that fairyland look. Tiny candles illuminated each table all around. Gold cutlery. Big golden lighted globes hung from the ceiling in various sizes between plants that cascaded down. It really was quite the spectacle.

You were proud of how it all turned out. And the 200 guests that Mr. Spector invited all appeared to be in awe of the space.

The stringed music playing for most of the event in the background was live. The musicians stood to the side of the room on a newly installed platform, trees lined the back of the stage. And now that the night was finally coming to an end, well, the main event had ended, it was time to drink and dance and let loose, the band was switched out for something rockier and more upbeat.

Mr. Spector kissed your cheek and gripped your arm, “My dear, you never cease to astonish me with your hard work. Thank you for this. I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

You tried to get him to stay and enjoy the after-party. And like every year before, he declined. He liked his private time. Liked reading and writing and the quiet. He preferred his guests to enjoy what he’d been able to give them. It was, after all, for them, he always said.

“Even though it’s your last event like this? You won’t get this again, sir. Are you sure?” You smiled at him and he nodded. You knew he’d decline to stay.

So, you ordered your second cocktail of the night once Mr. Spector left. Some type of green concoction with a blackberry-sized red flower floating atop. You didn’t know what was in it. All you knew was that it tasted delicious and it was going to get you into some trouble. But maybe that’s what you were looking for that evening. After all, this was your going away party as well. You’d be put back into the system as active again once you were officially out of Mr. Spector’s employ. It would be time to find your next role.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Many dancing, some sitting and chatting, others making their rounds to network and schmooze. You stayed at the edge of the dance area and let your body move to the rhythm. You kept your eyes on everyone. Even though you were trying to just enjoy yourself you still felt somewhat responsible for all the attendees. It was ingrained in you.

You definitely fit in with everyone, though. Your outfit was couture, high fashion like the rest of the guests. Mr. Spector had paid for everything for you, as always. You picked out a beautiful cowl neck, deep navy-blue velvet dress with a slit that went up to your mid-thigh. The back draped down tastefully but the drape at the front was dangerously low. Just like you wanted. You had red pumps with gold and ruby jewelry. It was always difficult finding things in your size that weren’t from a big box store but the hunt for the perfect dress and accessories was always worth it. And the dress? You felt absolutely sexy. From head to toe.

The song was swingy and fun. More people covered the dance floor and somehow you’d gotten pushed further in. You still had your drink in hand but now it was nearly empty so you were less worried about spilling any of the liquid on yourself.

A woman you recognized as a small IT business owner greeted you and you both chatted as you danced together. When the song changed Elsie pointed at your drink, “You’re low. So am I,” she lifted her glass to show you, “Should we grab more?”

The answer that night was yes. Yes to anything.

The bar that lined the wall opposite the band had people hovering, waiting for their drinks. You let Elsie take the lead in getting the attention of the bartender. She was a tall, slender blond with smooth shiny hair so you figured she’d do better at getting your drinks faster. And you were used to that. Being the fat one, you tended to get overlooked and ignored. When you were younger it hurt a lot more, but these days you learned to use it to your advantage.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unworthy. You just understood how most people perceived you, even if they were wrong. You were confident when it mattered and took good care of yourself. And you rarely ever mistook a man’s kindness for him flirting with you, which was nice in a way. You couldn’t ever wrap your mind around assuming every guy who was kind to you was flirting. A lot of your friends had that mentality. Any time a man would chat them up they’d automatically jump to thinking they were being sized up somehow. You couldn’t imagine feeling so confident that you thought a man having a conversation with you meant anything more.

So that’s why when the tall, gorgeous man with dark, soft curls, sharp green eyes, and an even sharper jawline leaned in and asked, “Are you having a good time?” You didn’t assume he was flirting with you.

“I definitely am. How about you?” You turned to look up at him. Deep pink lips, broad shoulders, a very expensive suit and shoes, cocky grin.

“Sure. But I had to fly out here to attend last minute. My assistant forgot to add the event to my calendar so I had to settle for this suit and here I am. I’ll deal with her later. Luckily Alfred always throws the biggest and best parties so it’s been worth it.”

You noted the tiny dig to his assistant in the back of your mind and nodded, “Yeah, Mr. Spector loves to go big. It’s turned out great I think.” You had planned on mentioning you were the man of the night’s assistant until Mr. Cocky complained about his own. So you’d keep that little detail to yourself.

He was drinking whisky, neat. And when Elsie finally returned to your spot at the edge of the bar she handed you your tasty green drink and you introduced her.

“Elsie, this is… uh… What was your name?”

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he held his hand out, gaudy rings on most of his fingers toward the pretty blond and she nodded, “Elsie Powers. Nice to meet you.”

The pair got to talking the moment Elsie mentioned her company and so you decided to dip out. You didn’t need to stand around and watch them flirt, which is what you assumed was going on. They were both gorgeous so that seemed natural to you.

But before you could take even a step outside of the little bubble the three of you were in you felt Harry’s hand at your low back as he leaned down to speak into your ear, “Don’t go too far. I was hoping to ask you something.”

You looked down at his arm and back into his eyes, “Okay… I’ll be around. You can come find me.”

When his fingers slid off your back as you stepped away you still felt the heat of his skin where he’d touched you. You liked his touch, but you assumed it happened because you took up so much space. It was more likely, in your mind, that he hadn’t meant to touch you there at all.

After another cocktail and a bit more dancing by yourself, Harry did find you. You didn’t realize it was him at first. You felt a warm body dancing behind you, not touching, just near enough that the heat emanated from him to your back. But then you heard his voice, “Found you. Thought you left.”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder and spoke, “Was planning on staying til the end. Felt like I deserved to enjoy tonight.”

“And why’s that?” Harry’s hand brushed along your bare arm softly before he removed it. You felt the trail of where he’d touched your arm and it made you wonder if he’d done it on purpose.

“No reason. I just deserve it,” you kept swaying your hips and you felt Harry moving with you, standing over you. You could smell his cologne.

“You don’t mind me dancing with you, do you?” His voice was close to your neck as he spoke.

Shaking your head you turned your body to face him, swinging your hips softly, “Not at all.”

He grinned down at you and the dimple that appeared on his cheek had you taken aback. He was truly stunning.

“Good. Wanted to chat some with you. Find out more about you…” he took your hand in his and pulled you closer, shifting the mood a little as you both danced. You silently inhaled in surprise at his gesture.

“And what did you want to know, Mr. Styles?” You raised your brows and smirked at him. You weren’t sure at that point what he was doing. But he was certainly leading you to believe this was more than just a friendly chat.

“First, what’s your name?”

You laughed, “I’m Y/n. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Are you here alone, Y/n?” His free hand found a spot on your side over your hip.

“I am. What about you?” You weren’t used to receiving this kind of attention from anyone. Much less a wealthy handsome man.

“I’m here alone too,” he kept a cocky grin plastered to his face as he drew nearer and spoke lowly so only you could hear, “But was hoping I wouldn’t be leaving alone.”

It was at that moment you were truly surprised. Was he…? Couldn’t be. You’d surely misread this situation just in the way all your pretty girlfriends misread it every time a guy showed any friendliness. Maybe it was the three cocktails you’d drank and that had you wondering what was in them.

Harry's hand released yours and he brought his ringed fingers up to your shoulder where he brushed the side of your neck, drawing you in closer with his other hand at your hip, “What about you?”

You blinked your eyes and looked up at him in confusion, “What about me? What do you mean?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he looked down at your mouth and took a clear glance at your cleavage before responding, “Did you hope to leave with someone tonight?”

You scoffed and looked around the dance floor before looking back at him, still not quite believing the direction this conversation was headed, “I hadn’t imagined I would leave with anyone. Figured I’d just go back to my hotel room alone after.”

The ridiculously attractive man licked his lips and kept his gaze on yours, “Really? You don’t want someone to take you back to their room and help you out of this pretty dress tonight?”

You began to cough. You’d choked on your own saliva as you inhaled a sharp breath at the wrong moment. His words caught you off guard.

But now you were hacking and bent at the waist, red in the face like an idiot.

Harry patted your back and you heard him speak into your ear, “You okay, darling? Need some water?”

When you’d recovered you and Harry were standing at the edge of the dancefloor away from the crowd and he had a comforting hand on your back.

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…” you wiped your face, which was moist from the tears you’d forced out from all the coughing.

Harry took your hand and led you to a free seat, pulling a chair out for you and then sitting next to you, his hand still on your back, “Do you feel better now?”

You nodded and smiled at him. You hadn’t forgotten what he said. But now you were sure whatever he was getting at was all but out the window after your little display.

“Come back with me to my room, Y/n.”

Well, that just blasted your little theory.

You sat up straight and your jaw dropped open wide, “Why?”

Harry laughed, “Because I don’t want to go back alone. Spend the night with me tonight.”

Were you in a dream? Had you drunk too much and were blacked out and hallucinating?

“I don’t… I’m not sure what you…” you were unable to put your thoughts together coherently. You hadn’t expected it. You assumed you weren’t his type. Too chunky for a man like him. Imagined he preferred a more modelesque figure on women he found attractive given his appearance.

“Look. I’ll just be very straightforward with you. I think you’re gorgeous and I’d like to have you in my bed tonight. Naked. How does that sound to you?”

You whispered the word naked back to him as if it were a word you’d never heard before. You took a deep breath and looked around the room.

“What are you drinking? I’ll go get us another so we can chat a bit before you make any decisions.”

Now this question was one you could actually answer, “The cocktail is one from the menu. Called the Grove.”

Harry got up and left you at the table by yourself. You sat back in the seat and sighed. What were you going to do? He was mouth-watering, which is why you choked on your spit in the first place. Your mouth was literally watering at his proximity on the dance floor. And now he was asking you to go back to his room to hook up. He couldn’t have made it clearer. There was no room for you to misinterpret what he meant.

And why should you say no? Why should you go back to your own room and sleep in that big bed all by yourself? Well, mostly because you were worried about getting attached. Sure you didn’t even know the guy but that’s just how you were. You weren’t built for casual hookups or one-night stands. And you were sure that’s all this would be. Could you handle it? Would you be able to have sex with someone and then move on from it?

When you saw Harry walking back toward you you’d made up your mind. You’d finish your drink and tell him your verdict. You needed one more drink, though. Just to really loosen up. If you were going to do this if you were going to take a risk and have sex with a stranger, one more drink would help you relax about the whole situation.

Harry handed you your cocktail and sat down with his whisky in hand. He brushed his fingers over your arm as he spoke about how he knew Mr. Spector, “His cousin was my boss years ago. Before I got started in my current line of business. And since then, Alfred’s been inviting me to his parties. I can’t usually go but I rarely miss the winter ball.”

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before taking another sip of your verdant drink.

Harry grinned and licked his lips, “Let’s not talk business.”

You frowned and looked down at your red-painted nails. It wasn’t always polite to ask people what they did for a living but you figured given the circumstances, those being that he’d just asked you to have sex with him, it was okay. Clearly, you’d misjudged.

Harry gripped your chin and pushed your head back up to look at him, “Don’t feel bad for asking. You were just curious. I think the less we know of one another the better. Besides, work talk is boring. Don’t you think?”

You blinked again, his intense gaze was really working its way under your skin.

“Okay. Sorry. You’re right.”

Harry shook his head, keeping his hand at your chin, “And don’t say you’re sorry. Wouldn’t you rather talk about anything but work right now?” He let go of your chin and sat back in his chair as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I guess. It’s just that everyone here is networking and I thought it was only natural.”

“You and I are not networking, Y/n.” Harry grinned.

By the time your drink was but a clear puddle of melted ice at the bottom of the glass, you could feel how hot your face was from the alcohol. Your neck and ears were burning and all of Harry’s soft touches were making you fuzzy. The way he was whispering in your ear…

“Okay. I’ll go with you to your room tonight,” you spat out quickly before you could change your mind.

Harry’s gaze lowered to your breasts again, his arrogant grin in place, “I know, darling. I was just waiting for you to admit it. You ready then?”

If he wasn’t so hot you’d have changed your mind at his cocky response. But god was he alluring. And somehow, his egotistical attitude was putting you at ease a bit. Because it would possibly be much easier to not get your feelings mixed up for a guy like him. It could just be a one-night stand. Like so many other people indulged in (which you always found absurd).

You both walked to the coat check to get your things before Harry led you, with his hand at your low back to the elevators.

You draped your wool coat over your shoulders and stood awkwardly in the elevator next to the man you were leaving with. You couldn’t believe yourself. You were 28 years old so it shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal but it was. You’d never done anything like it before.

“Are you nervous?”

You sighed and nodded as you looked up at the man, “A little. Haven’t ever done anything like this.”

Harry hummed and nodded, “I can tell. That’s okay. I’ll take the lead.”

There was a black car waiting for you at the curb as soon as you exited the building. A man who was standing near the car opened the back door and gestured for you to get in. You followed behind Harry and the door was shut, closing you off from the outside and loud noises of the city to the dark leather interior of the car. Harry’s hand slid up your exposed thigh the moment you’d settled into the seat, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me and you.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Are you always like this? So confident about everything?”

Harry laughed and squeezed at your thigh, “If I wasn’t confident I wouldn’t be as successful as I am.”

You guessed that made sense. You just found it so strange that he was so sure of himself even when he hardly knew you at all.

You felt Harry’s long, ringed fingers slide upward over your plushy thighs in search of your panties most likely. And when he leaned over you and took your jaw with his free hand and smushed his mouth against yours it felt like crystalized water beginning to melt and drip and pool onto the ground.

He pulled your hand onto his lap and pressed your palm over his crotch, to which you felt as he grew harder and harder as the seconds passed with your lips connected.

When he was satisfied that you would be keeping your hand in place as you pressed down harder he raised his hand to your breast, his palm placed over the soft velvet before he lowered his mouth to your neck causing you to lean back the slightest for his access.

The car ride ended before you even realized you’d been moving through the city streets when the door you were sitting next to opened and the driver looked in at you two all disheveled and mid-kiss with his hand out for you to take.

Harry walked you into the hotel, which happened to be the same one you had a room at (how convenient you thought). The elevator ride up to his room was not unlike the car ride where you’d lost track of time and space when his lips were on yours and his tongue softly swiped at your mouth. You’d never had a man act this way with you before. It almost felt like desperation. Like he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

Guiding you off the elevator and to his room, you felt buzzy and your heart was bouncing around in your chest wildly. His hand was at the back of your neck, his long fingers gently ghosting over your skin.

The moment you were pushed into his room Harry stood over you and began to loosen his tie, “Take your dress off. God, I need to see you.”

You were already worked up as you panted, keeping your eyes on his, slowly unzipping the back of your dress and stepping out. You had forgotten that you were wearing a nude shapewear slip that kept your tummy rolls in place and your breasts pert. The back of the slip was low cut to accommodate your dress. You looked down over yourself and stuck your fingers into the fabric to pull it down and as your breasts were revealed Harry groaned and leaned down to wrap his pink lips over your nipple. You watched his tongue drag over your plump flesh and his fingers dig into your heavy tits as he worked his way around both sides.

You were pressed against the wall as he pinned your arms back and kissed his way up your tits to your neck and then he found your lips.

Finally, he backed away, giving you space to finish the reveal of your body to him as he continued removing his own clothes.

You watched tattoos appear on his skin and the more buttons he undid the more you saw of him. He was strong and muscular. His pecs were impressive and he had a soft six-pack hidden under the fabric that you only saw once he tossed his shirt off. Tattoos on his arms scattered over his skin.

Tugging at your slip to get it off you knew Harry’s eyes were on your body. But you weren’t going to stop now. Even if you were slightly embarrassed. This was happening and you knew he wanted it. Sometimes you worried about the logistics of sex being as heavy as you were, especially when it came to being with a guy who was not at all. But Harry’s build was masculine and broad and he was clearly going to be able to handle you.

When his pants were off and he was down to his underwear you knew he was enjoying the view of all your bits based on the thick lump under the fabric. You were left standing in your silky black panties when he stood over you and smoothed his hands up your arms and palmed over your tits, “Jesus fucking Christ look at you. Get on the bed for me.”

You swallowed and stepped toward the area of the room where the bed was and sat at the edge, watching as he stalked after you. His eyes were dark as he crawled over you and nudged you with him into the middle of the perfectly made bed, soft and luxurious feeling under your skin.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he smoothed his lips against yours as he palmed over your skin down to your thigh, pinching at the fleshy insides as he pushed your legs open, putting his knees down into the mattress to keep you spread with his thighs.

He kept his lips working over yours, his tongue smearing against your tongue wetly as you felt his fingers dip down to your panties and then to the wet patch at your center. You could tell you were wet before he even touched you. He’d turned you on with ease. His voice, his body, his eyes, his confidence…

You felt him smile against your lips when he dredged his fingers up and down over your wet panties, right where your labia was. Soft strokes of his fingers pushed the fabric of your panties between your pussylips until he dragged a finger up and found your clit and you gasped. He circled over your clit, pressing the wet fabric into you.

When he lowered himself, using his lips and his tongue down your body as he went he looked up at your face after dotting kisses over your fleshy tummy, “You’re gorgeous and you smell so good. Such a dirty girl, though, aren’t you?” He dabbed more warm kisses down your stomach to just above your panties, “All wet for me like you’re desperate for cock,” he licked along the band of your panties and looked up at you again as he adjusted himself between your legs, “Are you desperate for cock, Y/n? Need me to take care of you tonight?”

You nodded, “Oh my god…” your words came out as a whisper, “Yes, Harry.”

When you felt his tongue glide up your crease over your wet panties your mouth dropped open wide. He was not holding back with the foreplay so far. You were usually disappointed in sex, the few times you’d had it. Foreplay was an afterthought. And only a handful of times did you ever receive any kind of mouth-to-pussy action, which you assumed was due to your size.

But Harry was having no trouble treating you like some kind of irresistible sex pot. He pushed your thighs harder and raked his tongue up and down over you until you’d bucked upward just a bit.

Harry’s fingers pulled at the waistband of your panties, “Taking these off because I need more.”

You felt your panties being moved down your legs then Harry returned with enthusiasm, his lips all over your cunt, sliding his tongue through your folds and his fingers pinching into your flesh before he poked the tip of his wet muscle to your clit and began to lick all around it, lapping you up and teasing you to the point you were shaking and whining, proving him right about how desperate you were.

When he finally stopped his teasing licks he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. You gasped loudly and moaned, to which Harry moaned into your pussy.

His shoulders were against the back of your thighs as he masterfully licked you out and kissed your clit until you were reaching down with one hand to slide your fingers into his thick curls.

And that only seemed to stir something more ravenous in him. He growled when he felt you pulling at his roots and suddenly you felt his fingertips at your entrance before he pushed them in slowly, the metal of his rings being nudged in the slightest. You were in an alternate universe. Somewhere that only existed you and Harry and the bed you were on as you laid spread out for him to pleasure.

He was good with his tongue. He used it over your clit like he understood what you needed, putting pressure where it was vital and then slurping you into his mouth making your entire body quiver in ecstasy. His repeated movements, soft tonguing, pulling at your clit, the bump of his fingers through your walls and into your delicate warmth, the precipice of your orgasm was taunting you.

“Harry!” You yelped when he sucked your clit in especially roughly and his fingers dug in deep making your pussy squelch.

He smiled and lifted his mouth, speaking against your cunt, hot breath coating your labia and clit, “Feels good, Y/n? You gonna let me give you an orgasm?”

You moaned pitifully and nodded to yourself as you scrunched your face when he attached his wet lips back to your clit and curled his fingers just right, “Yes! Oh my god…”

You had never felt anything like it before. Like Harry. And maybe it wasn’t that he was all that good at cunnilingus (he was), but perhaps it was the way he was handling you. The way he was so eager to make you feel good. The way he wasn’t worried about his own throbbing cock between his legs, growing heavier by the minute as he sucked and licked and kissed your cunt.

His focus was on you completely and you felt that. You felt his attention and his devotion to your pleasure before his. And that was what did it for you. It was the care and thoughtfulness of it all. It wasn’t like anything you’d experienced with any man before and it pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm rolled out of you in waves as you writhed under him and cried curses and nonsense into the room. He held you down with one hand as well as he could so he could lavish you with his mouth until you were done with your unraveling. His fingers stroked your insides as you pulsed around them and felt the tingle of your clit being overwhelmed by his lips. You gasped and laughed at the way he continued ravaging you well past what was necessary.

Releasing his hair you pushed yourself up by your elbows to see his face still between your legs, his eyes closed like he was enjoying it just as much as you had. It might have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life. But that could have been all those feel-good chemicals being released in your brain post-orgasm.

You pushed at his forehead to indicate you were done, “Okay!” You tried closing your legs but Harry pulled his fingers from your pussy and pressed you down as he licked up and up and up. Until finally he opened his eyes and looked at you, lips still making out with your pussy as you laughed and tried pulling away.

“It’s too much!” You giggled and moved your hips under him.

Finally, he parted from your labia and pushed himself up over you, caging you in as he hovered, “Good?” He raised his brows.

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” You laughed as you spoke.

Harry grinned and you watched him move away from you, pulling his underwear down and exposing his weighty cock, thick and long. Yes. He’d be able to handle you just fine.

He grasped it in his hand and moved next to you. You sat up and reached out to feel him, velvety and warm under your palm before getting to your knees and looking up at him as you lowered your lips to his shaft. You wanted to feel it on your mouth and in your mouth.

Dragging your wetted lips down until you reached the base you gripped him and tongued your way up to his tip and heard a shallow gasp from his chest. Licking around his crown you pulled at his skin and wrapped your lips around just the very tip of his head before slipping your tongue around him and sucking softly.

A beautiful deep moan was music to your ears. He was enjoying it. So you indulgently lowered yourself down a bit more, feeling the width of him take up space inside your mouth and on your tongue. Gentle strokes of your lips over the top part of his shaft and over his swollen head felt good for you. You hadn’t given head in a long time. And you could tell Harry was into it.

He smelled good. Nice and clean and warm. You used your hand to pull at the base of his shaft up to your parted lips as you sucked on him and lapped around his skin.

When Harry’s moans turned into a rhythmic panting you felt his hand at your jaw, nudging you up until your lips were pulled away from his pretty cock, “You are desperate for cock. Sucking me like that? If I didn’t want fuck you so bad I’d let you finish me off with that gorgeous mouth.”

You shifted back as Harry leaned over you and pressed his mouth against yours, his hand at your neck pushing you down into the mattress. His mouth was wet and smelled like you as he smeared his lips on yours. You moaned when he parted from you and got off the bed.

You could hear the crinkling of the wrapper from the condom as he sorted himself out and then crawled back next to you, taking your hand, “How’s that sound, Y/n? Want my cock inside your soft pussy? Hmm?”

Looking down at his hard length, covered in a condom, and back into his eyes you nodded, “Yeah,” you were breathless.

The grin on Harry’s face as he moved between your legs, his eyes on yours was like someone who’d just gotten the best news they’d heard all day. He thread his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hand down into the mattress near your head.

The front of his strong thighs pushed against the inside of yours as he positioned himself over you. His cock heavy on your belly before he moved back, letting go of your hand to grasp himself.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. I want to hear how good it makes you feel, okay?” His tip dragged through your wet labia, up and down, “Just lie there like the pretty little thing you are, and let me fuck you deep.”

You nodded as you watched his eyes. He was looking down at where his cock was brushing over your wet and puffy pussylips, his lips parted as he bumped into your clit and then smacked his girth down over you.

The sound of his cock dragging through your arousal made you feel like a different person. No man had ever taken the time to indulge the way Harry was. It was clear by the look on his face that he liked everything he saw and even how soaked you were.

You felt the tip of his broad head nudge into your entrance as he looked at you with dark pupils. He pulled his brows together as he savored the feel of you and gently pushed through the ring of your wet muscle. Just knowing that you were making him feel like that had you moaning with your eyes locked on his.

“Feel that, Y/n?” He slowly dipped in and pulled back, wetting the condom as he went, pushing in deeper on each thrust forward.

“I feel it…” your words came out shaky as his length was forced through your slick walls, spreading your insides apart slowly.

Harry inhaled a breath and let out a deep moan when his cock reached as far as he could take it, “Taking my cock so good,” he pulled back and looked down at the scene between your legs. All wet and puffy, his cock coated in your creamy arousal. He loved the way your pussy gripped him and your labia stretched around his cock, “Gonna be dreaming of this,” he pressed his thumb over the space where his cock was moving into your entrance and then up to your clit to rub circles softly, wet and warm.

“Ohhh…” you whimpered when his thumb pressed into your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your entire body was boiling and buzzing as Harry rocked into you, his balls thwacking slowly into your ass.

“Yeah? Tell me how you like it, pretty girl.”

How could you answer this man with his dick lodged so deep in your tummy? How did he expect you to make a coherent sentence with the way his thumb was stroking your clit back and forth? How could your brain form any sort of response when his cock was dragging through your insides and pressing into all your bits, hitting your hidden spots like his shape was made just for you?

“I want it… Mmm… like that…” was all you could bear to squeak out when he smacked into you in one harsh thud.

“Harder? Softer?” His thumb never ceased the yummy caressing of your fleshy pearl.

“Fuck!” You gasped when he smacked into you again, causing your body to jolt upward from the force.

“Like that? Need it a little rougher, Y/n? Need my cock to split you in half?” Again, a harsh thrust into your guts that had you gurgling and falling apart too soon.

“Oh she wants it a little rough, I can tell. Your cute pussy likes a good pounding doesn’t she?”

You held your breath when you felt him angle over you and sink down into you until it hurt. Until his long cock was buried in so deep his balls were tucked against your ass as he ground himself in, “Pussy like this needs a lot of attention. Lots of care…” he moaned when you clenched around him, “Want me to take care of you? Want to feel what my cock can do to this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, please, Harry!” You grasped onto his forearm as he rolled solidly into you, deep and slow, slushy and sopping between your thighs.

“Yeah? Gonna stuff myself so far into you that you can’t breathe. Gonna make you come so hard you’ll never want another cock again.”

You moaned and felt his crushing weight over you as he continued grinding his hips against yours but then suddenly he was pulling out and you felt a sting on your thigh when he smacked you, “Get on all fours.”

You were blurry and floaty as you rolled over and pushed yourself up to do as he asked. Your pussy puffy and begging for more of his cock.

His hands gripped the side of your hips tight and you smushed your face down to the mattress before you felt his cock rip into you in one punishing stroke. You cried out and he did it again. And again. His cock pummeled into you repeatedly, punching the air from your lungs and giving your pussy the best fucking of its life.

You did like it hard. A little rough. Nothing wild, just something that you could feel for a couple of days. Something that made you gasp and brace for more.

“Holy fuck…” Harry gritted as he fucked into you, watching his dick disappear repeatedly. Your pretty round bottom bouncing and wiggling at each plunge. He dug his fingers into your ample flesh and spread you out so he could watch as you gripped him exactly like he loved. The little noises you were making had him reeling.

It was his favorite. A beautiful woman with her ass in the air as he railed her deep. But especially when it was a nice big ass. He loved to be able to grip something in his hands. To squeeze and smack. It always felt so much better to have something to hold on to. Not that he didn’t love slender women. He certainly did. But there was nothing like the feminine physique of a woman with meat on her bones, wide hips, a big tummy, and extra bits to touch and run his fingers over. It was fucking sexy.

You could feel him as he worked you open. He buried in deep and then pulled back until his thick tip was being pushed through your entrance again and again. He was long and every inch of him pulled and pushed through your walls, sliding along all your bits and ridges making your skin heat up.

Then you felt his chest against your back and his cock was angled so far inside of you that your eyes nearly crossed, “Love your little gurgles and moans, Y/n. Feels good on my cock?” He rolled into you, keeping himself stuffed to the hilt.

“Yes! Fuck, Harry!” You turned your head to speak so he could hear you and then you felt his lips on your back as he kept rocking into you languidly, never pulling back, only dipping into you, swiveling his hips to ensure you could feel every part of his cock moving through you.

You felt a tear drip from your eye as he reached down for your hand and moved it toward your pussy, “Rub that wet clit, sweet girl. Want to see you quivering under me again.”

The moment your fingertips came into contact with your puffy nub you moaned and all you could feel was Harry’s warmth and his big cock and your clit being worked just how you liked.

He began to rut into you with unforgiving strength. Your body was being smacked into and your skin was beginning to burn where his hips were striking your ass. It felt incredible. It felt like a man who knew what he was doing.

“Yes! Yes!” You shakily cried out. Harry’s long shaft was gliding in and out and you could feel him every time your fingertips moved back the slightest. His heavy cock slipping into your pussy vigorously as you ran your fingers back and forth, up and down on your clit.

Harry put a hand on your low back and settled his thumb into the top of your crack as he watched your cunt swallow him on each thrust. He bit his lip at the gorgeous sight and lowered his other hand to your right cheek, pulling at your flesh to give himself a better look at how you were taking him. How perfect you were for his cock.

When he noticed your moans growing louder and more desperate and then saw your thighs shaking he pounded into you with deliberate, long strokes so you could really feel him inside of you.

And feel him you did. His length filled you up and pulled back, before pressing back in until your world began to spin and your pussy was powerless to your orgasm. You reared yourself back onto his cock and cried out pathetically as Harry breathed heavily and felt your cunt sucking him in and spasming around him.

“Oh, baby…” he moaned and watched more cream coat his cock from your pussy. You were coming hard, lips wide open as you cried out and gasped, and the way you were clenching around his cock felt like the best thing he’d ever experienced during sex. You were fucking sexy.

When your voice lowered and your body stopped quivering Harry halted his movements and ran his hands on your back gently and down to your bum, keeping his cock lodged inside of you, “Creamed all over my cock, Y/n,” swiped his thumb around the area where you two were connected and lifted it to his mouth to taste.

You panted and smiled into the blanket when he suddenly pulled out and popped your bottom with his palm, “On your back. Want to see that pretty face again.”

You were on the verge of being completely wiped out. You knew he hadn’t come yet, though, and you felt like he deserved it with how fucking good he was. Two orgasms already. That was unheard of for you.

Harry helped you situate and he fit himself between your thighs. You looked down at his cock and noted he was right about you creaming all over him. White gobs of your arousal at his shaft and in the thatch of dark, trimmed hair at his base. God his cock was good.

“You feel so good on my cock, Y/n. You know that?” He pressed his tip inside of you, making you drop your mouth open and he gasped. The way he stretched you apart was insane. It felt incredible.

“Fuck… your pussy needs my cock inside of her. Yeah? I could fuck this sweet cunt all day and never get tired of it. Fuck, baby…” he moaned his words as he thrust into you, his hips dragging against you and your clit being pushed into with each plunge.

You took your breasts in your palms and kneaded at them as you watched Harry’s face twist up in rapturous despair. Every roll of his hips was torture for him. His body wanted to come but he had planned on you having one more orgasm. Wanted to feel you squeezing and pulsing around him as he came with you. The decadence of being able to feel your pussy coming around him as he was pouring into you would be bliss.

The edge of his hairline was wet with sweat. You knew he was working hard to give you his cock the way you needed it. His arms were flexing as he held himself up over you, back and thighs clenching and stretching as his muscles exerted, loosening and tightening.

Now there was no slap of skin or the sound of thuds filling the room, it was only hot breaths and gasps and wet pussy being fucked. The occasional distant sound of people moving past his suite on their way to their own.

Deeper and deeper he stuffed himself as he kept his radiant green eyes locked on your face. Your insides were bowing and tensing and vibrating with delight. It was the best you’d ever gotten and his handsome face watching you had your head spinning and your body melting under him. He was too good. The way he was tugging his cock inside of you and stroking your walls and fitting himself deep into your guts like he was trying to reach up into your spine and your lungs under your ribcage… it was going to stick with you for a long time. And he was probably right. You’d be dreaming of his cock. You were sure of it.

His pacing was perfect; smooth, wet thrusts and a satisfying angle that had your whole body resonating with sex and electric crackles like you’d never felt. His undulating hips kissing your clit each time he ground into you.

“Look at your tits jiggling, Y/n. Fucking so hot…” he panted his words like he was out of breath, “Damn baby,” he moaned as he slowed his stride for a moment to collect himself. His balls were already tightening against his body, ready to release too soon.

He leaned over you and pressed his lips against yours and it made your skin and pores and nerves spark and convect. Little by little your pulse accelerated until you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His tongue inside your mouth and his perfect cock inside of your tummy, the smell of him and of you and the soft bed beneath your back- it had you nearly going up in flames.

When he finally began to move again, when he’d steadied his composure so he could last a little longer you gasped into his mouth.

Now his long strokes were thick and stunted, his shaft inching in and in and in until you couldn’t breathe. His nose pressed into yours and his lips moved around your lips, smearing saliva over your warm, plush mouth with his tongue. It was filthy, the way he kissed. Wet, aching. Like he was fucking your lips with his tongue at the same time he was filling your pussy with his cock.

You felt his muscles begin to shake as he parted from your mouth and looked down at you. Blown-out pupils, pink parted lips, and a flushed face. He was about to come and you could see it on his face and in the way he was panting and getting louder with each jerk of his hips. It was delicious.

“You gonna come, baby? Gonna milk my cock with your cunt, squeeze around me, and drain me?”

Grabbing onto his forearms you nodded and feebly whimpered, “Yes… oh my god…”

Harry groaned as he canted his hips sloppily and his thrusts grew erratic as he held back to wait for you to come first.

You’d always heard of the mythical concept of a cock fitting together perfectly with the right pussy and how it could make women come from penetration alone when they’d never been able to before. You’d never experienced it and thought it was just a made-up fantasy. A wild fable.

But you were wrong. Harry’s cock proved you wrong. He was nudging into things inside of you that even your vibrator missed and as shocking as it was to know you were about to come, yet again, you were of no mind to think too much about that because your body was submitting to the way he was handling you and your pussy was already beginning to flutter around him and pulse as you gasped and dropped your mouth wide.

Yes, you were having one of those kinds of orgasms that you could feel from the inside out. That made your ears feel stuffy and your vision go white as you cried out loudly.

Harry choked out a gasp as soon as he felt your walls gripping him and you tossed your head back, moaning his name over and over again like you needed the room to know who was making you fall apart.

Your pussy wrapped around him so perfectly and he looked down from your perfect tits to your face and he lost it. His own cry of your name was loud as he threw his head back and throbbed, releasing into his condom, his come filling the tip full as you milked him with your pulsing orgasm.

Divine. Complete and utter perfection. He hadn’t come so hard in years and the way you responded to him only coaxed him deeper into his own ecstasy.

When his cock stopped pumping and twitching he opened his eyes and looked down at you looking all fucked out and satisfied. Exactly what he had hoped for when he brought you to his room. Better even.

When your gaze finally found his he smiled down at you. He figured it would be nice to have you again in the morning if you were up for it because he certainly didn’t want to have you leave. Not yet. Maybe he’d order room service and you two could talk some more. Maybe another round or perhaps you’d both just crash after that marathon. But he knew he’d want to give you a parting gift in the morning at the very least. One of those soft and lazy morning fucks before kissing you and sending you off so he could catch his flight the following afternoon.

Yeah. That sounded nice to him.

But the sudden sound of his phone buzzing had him turning to look at the nightstand. You’d barely recovered from your scorching orgasm when he rolled off of you and quickly picked up the phone, his back to you, “Hello?”

You inhaled deeply. You still couldn’t believe you’d just done that. With a stranger nonetheless.

“No, I’m okay. Just ran to grab the phone is all.” He was panting just enough that whoever was on the line had wondered what he’d been doing. You turned your head to look at him. His back was to you.

“Sure, babe. See you then.”

You sat up quickly. Babe?

Harry stood from the bed and picked up his pants, “I’m sure you can get your clothes on and be on your way quickly. Yeah?”

You instinctively covered your chest with your mouth dropped open, “What?!” Harry paused before putting his shirt on and looked at you with an unamused expression, “I said you need to leave.” He raised his voice a notch as if the reason you asked him what was because you hadn’t heard.

You shook your head and slid off the bed feeling dirty and shameful, reaching to the ground for your discarded dress, “I know what you said. I was surprised that you were… never mind.”

The sudden change in his attitude toward you was a shock. He’d been so attentive and affectionate and now he was cold. Inconsiderate. You struggled to keep up with the abrupt shift in his temperament.

Harry walked to the window as you shimmied into your dress and attempted zipping it up, “Fuck…” you mumbled under your dress. The last thing you wanted to do was ask this asshole to help you but really didn’t want to walk out of his room with your dress half unzipped and your ass crack hanging out.

“Can you please help?” You sighed and looked over at him. God, you hated how attractive he was, especially now that he was being so cold to you suddenly.

Harry silently shook his head to himself as he tucked his shirt in and walked toward you as if it were some terrible chore to help you.

“There. Now I really need you to go. Quickly.”

You hadn’t even had the chance to wipe up in the bathroom or pee. You were stunned at his behavior.

You gave him your dirtiest scowl, scooped up your underwear, and grabbed your small purse, stuffing your bra and panties inside. The slip you had to carry in your hands. As you pulled your shoes back on your feet one at a time, Harry was plucking the condom off the floor and looking around the room in a slight panic.

“Fuck you, Harry. This is rude. You didn’t have to treat me like garbage. Not like I was gonna fall for you or something you prick.” When your feet were securely in your shoes Harry walked across the room toward you as you tried to make your way to the door to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turned to look at him.

“Can you toss this in the garbage near the elevator for me? Thanks,” he pressed the used condom that was stuffed into a tissue into your hand and you nearly lost it. Nearly fucking karate chopped his ass to the ground and stomped on his face. But then you realized something. He was in a hurry to get you out of his room because he had someone coming up to see him. Someone he wanted to hide the condom from. A lover? Girlfriend? Wife?

Instead of responding verbally you flipped him off and slammed the door behind yourself. But before you walked away from the door you pulled the condom from the tissue and put it over his doorknob, nice and tight. The used rubber was still heavy with his come and you smiled as you dropped the tissue onto the floor and pulled out a cocktail napkin and pen from your purse, pressed your lips into it to leave it lightly stained with your leftover lipstick, and then wrote Thank you, Harry xx. You balanced the napkin right over the condom on the doorknob and then grinned to yourself as you walked down the hallway to the elevator. You sure were glad your room was in the same hotel. When the elevator doors opened a pretty blonde stepped off and rushed past you, headed in the direction of Harry’s room. She barely even glanced your way before you stepped onto the elevator and pressed 2 for your floor.

So maybe it wasn’t a terrible ending to the night after all.

Part 2

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iamthatonefangirl · 4 months ago

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unrequited - harvey specter

now that i'm getting back into the hang of writing hopefully my work quality will improve from whatever this is

send fic ideas!!! all the love on my recent harvey posts is what's keeping me going

also i can only write angst because i am still desperately crushing on my coworker oops

~~~

Your relationship with Harvey was like a ticking time bomb.

You knew that you couldn’t keep this up forever; your feelings for him were too intense. They kept you awake at night, and they kept you from being able to date other men you knew you could like if not for him. Your feelings boiled up inside you day in and day out, and you were forced to suppress them. Harvey Specter was not the relationship type.

You loved him too deeply to think the feelings would just go away one day. No, you would have to cut them off at the source. And that meant leaving not only your firm, but also the city in which you had built your connections, your career, your entire life. All to get away from the one thing you wanted so badly it was beginning to destroy the rest of your life.

He had so easily turned into the main character of your story; it was time to reclaim your position as the protagonist. But that meant outcasting him for good.

When you first started at Pearson Specter, now Specter Litt, you were one of the few associates who Harvey had ever chosen to work directly with him. Years of watching and picking up on how he operated allowed you to grow to your full potential as an attorney at the firm, and for that, you couldn't be more grateful. Which is why even though you no longer worked very closely with him, having been promoted to junior partner, you knew he would be upset to hear your news of departure.

You didn’t want to think about how you would eventually have to quit returning his calls and effectively ghost him to get on with your life.

You expected him to ask what you wanted in return for staying at the firm, and when you would turn down the offer, he would lash out at you. You would leave the office and wouldn’t hear from him again until he called you a month later to check in. This was how it always went with him; it wouldn’t be any different this time around.

Monday morning came around eventually, no matter how much you willed it wouldn’t. Stepping into his office, you were rightfully nervous to broach the topic. “Harvey, do you have a minute?”

He glanced up at you from his desk before replying, “Do any of us around here have a spare minute?” You chuckled at his response and shut the door behind you.

“I’m serious.” He shut his laptop and turned to you. You sat down in front of his desk, hands fidgeting and eyes darting back and forth between him and the files on his desk.

“I’m here to give you my official notice.”

The half-smile he wore when you first walked in shattered. It pained you to see, but you steeled yourself. You knew what to expect next; you just had to grit your teeth and bare through the conversation.

“I’ve been working on finishing up my recent cases over the last few weeks, and so I’m giving you my two-week’s. I’ve already spoken to some of the other partners who have agreed to take over my cases going forward, and I’ll be giving notice to my clients this week.”

He didn’t say anything at all. Now that was uncharacteristic of him.

He soon gathered his thoughts. He averted his eyes as he told you, “No need. I’ll waive your non-compete. You can take your clients with you to wherever you’re going.” He shifted his gaze back to you. “Just answer me this, what did they offer you?”

You didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean?”

He had that serious look on his face, the one he always sported when he realized he was caught in a bind. “The firm you’re leaving me for. What did they offer you to get you to leave?”

“Harvey, they didn’t– I’m not–”

“Senior partner? A higher salary? Because all of those things can be arranged for here, you know that. Just say the word.”

He may have been upset, but he could not possibly have understood how difficult this was for you. His words the firm you’re leaving me for couldn’t have been more true, you were leaving him; no matter how you tried to tell him, you reminded yourself he couldn’t know that.

You paused a moment to exhale before telling him the truth.

“I’m not leaving to go to another firm, you don’t need to waive my non-compete.”

His lips parted ever so slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m going home, Harvey. I’m leaving for San Francisco.”

~~~

He had no idea what you were talking about. Home? How hadn’t this city become your home? This firm? Him?

You rendered him temporarily speechless. He tried to offer you more and more incentive to stay, but you refused.

“I’ll double your salary. I’ll give you a bigger bonus than you’ve ever seen in your life.” You declined. “I’ll promote you. You can be elected a senior partner within the week, and I’ll pay your buy-in fee.”

Why was he trying so hard to get you to stay?

No matter how enticing the offers he made you might have been, you had one goal in mind: protecting your peace. Protecting your future from a man who would continue to take more and more parts of you until you were nothing apart from him. You had to leave before you couldn’t find your way back without him.

“Harvey, I’m leaving, That’s final.” You stood and began for the door.

“How dare you?” You heard from behind you.

Suddenly angered, you turned back to him, “Excuse me?”

“After everything I’ve done for you, you’re leaving, just like that. You’re going to drop everything just for some nostalgic memory of where you grew up?”

“How dare you! Don’t you speak to me that way, Harvey. You have no idea why it is that I’m leaving!” You yelled back at him, finger pointing in his face.

“So tell me!”

“You want the truth, Harvey? I’m in love with you. And I will never escape you any other way. So forget my two week’s notice. I’ll handle all my affairs from home. You’ll have my letter of resignation within the hour.”

With what little dignity you felt you had left, you walked out of the room with your head held high.

~~~

He had no idea, obviously. Of course he felt a connection to you; he trained you, taught you how the world of corporate law worked.

How long had you felt that way? Is there something he could’ve done to avoid this whole situation? His most promising junior partner was leaving, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was his own fault entirely.

He was determined to get the chance to apologize when you came back with your resignation letter. He would straighten out the situation, explain that you could still work there. It wasn’t the end of the world.

Of course, he got called away from his office for a period of time. The letter was there when he returned, and his hopes of keeping you were gone.

~~~

You knew that in the books, the idea of people saying things in the heat of the moment were common occurrences. You didn’t think it could ever happen to you in real life, though. You intended for him to never discover this truth you hid from him. It was simpler that way.

But of course, you were wrong, and it all came out before you had a chance to bite your tongue. Now you had to clean out your desk quickly and say your goodbyes quietly.

~~~

Three months later, you were settling into your new position. Since you anticipated spending another two weeks in New York, you had a whole month between your resignation and the time you were expected to start in California.

You were finally starting to live your life more for yourself. You thought about Harvey less and less each day, until you could go out and meet another man without feeling like you were cheating on him. Crazy how you never got to call him yours, but still felt disloyal whenever you tried to go out with someone else while you were still in New York.

Although you didn’t have the close relationship with your new supervisor that you had with Harvey, you felt welcomed and supported by your coworkers. You hated to admit that life was dull for a great number of weeks as you went through Harvey withdrawals, but it was true. Things were finally starting to get better until you got a knock on your door one day.

~~~

You’d blocked Harvey’s number on your phone for a great many number of reasons. You never expected him to just show up at your new place, though.

“Harvey? What are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Can I come in?” You allowed it.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he pointed out to you, to which you replied, “I blocked you, Harvey. Why are you not in New York right now?”

“I needed to see you,” was his only response. And with just those five little words, all the work you’d done to get over him was erased. It allowed your mind to flood with ideas of him wanting you in any way other than professionally or platonically. Damn you, Harvey, you thought.

“For what?”

“I want you to come back.” Unhelpful answer.

“Why?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, don’t you? I want you to come back because I trained you, and you’re an asset to the firm that we’re losing out on.”

“So you’re only here for a return on your investment in me.”

As you said that to him, he realized he fucked up.

“Look, I didn’t mean–”

“Yes! You absolutely did! You show up here, out of nowhere, telling me that you need my skills to benefit the firm, not that you might just want me to come back. Not that maybe I myself am beneficial to the firm, or even that you just miss me! God, can you really not acknowledge what I told you the last time I saw you?”

He paused. “Look, I know what you said. Yet still, I came.”

“And what does that mean, exactly? That you’ve suddenly come to terms with it and realized that you love me too?”

He didn’t respond at all.

“I’m not coming back, Harvey. I need a life separate from you. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

He shook his head in agreement. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need me to be.” He turned towards the doorway and saw himself out as the tears started welling up in your eyes.

Those were the last words you heard from him for a very long time.

~~~

masterlist

#fem reader #harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you #self indulgent #self insert #suits #suits tv #my writing #angst #sad ending

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dfortrafalgar · 6 months ago

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Catch Up

Law x Fem Reader

You might have met your soulmate while intoxicated, making out with him in a dark broom closet. But the only thing you left with was his first name.

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT, MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!, reader is meant to be over 21, bar crawl setting and responsible alcohol consumption

A/N- I'm still (still!) working on requests, and posting un-posted fics from my google drive in the meantime. I'm hoping to have my inbox open once again at the end of the month, or perhaps early June, now that my work/life balance is adjusting properly since starting my new job! I'm really sorry to those who have been hoping for consistent fics from me, i really wish i could write as much as i was recently but i'm still trying really hard!

[Also posted on AO3]

Chapter 1

[Next]

It was hard to convince yourself that you weren’t just the slightest bit tipsy as you kept your head lowered and channeled all of your focus into making sure your feet walked in a linear path. How many bars had you gone to again? Four? Five, maybe? Your body swayed slightly with your gait as your mind scrambled to catch up with the last drink that you had. It was only a cocktail, as all your other drinks from your bar crawl were. Was it mango-flavored? What street were you even on now? You blindly followed the two women in front of you whose voices were gleefully mocking the words you had said some hours before the sun had gone down.

“‘I’m not a lightweight, never have been!’” chided Ikkaku, eyes crinkled in a smile as she poked fun at your previous confident statement. She tossed a glance over her shoulder where you walked only a few steps behind.

“I’m not a lightweight! My voice isn’t even slurring yet!” you fought back, increasing your speed to keep pace with your best friends.

“And what was the last drink you had?” Nami asked, pulling her phone out of her bra to check her map.

“A mango margarita,” you confirmed. “With a little lime wedge and a mint leaf for a garnish. The place was called Elgia Lounge and it was on–”

“Okay, okay, you’re not drunk! We surrender!” laughed Ikkaku. “I’m glad you’re not, though, because this next place apparently has some of the best pineapple daiquiris in the entire city.”

Your mouth started watering immediately at the thought. You were always a sucker for sweet cocktails, arguably some of the most dangerous drinks due to the way the tangy, sour mixers completely blocked the taste of any alcohol added. Sometimes, it was impossible to tell if there even was alcohol in the glass, but with the way you walked, there was obviously more than enough from your previous locations. You hadn’t quite passed the threshold into drunk territory yet, but the image of a sweet and tart pineapple daiquiri might just be the thing to completely inebriate you.

Nami stopped dead in her tracks and looked towards the congested buildings immediately to your right side, scanning the signposts in the dark and looking for a specific one. Tucked in between two sports bars, with absolutely zero signage on the graffiti-covered door, the red-head nodded her head toward the unmarked entrance. “This is it.”

“Nami, you’re going to get us killed,” Ikkaku murmured, eyes squinting at the door to spot any indication that this was indeed a speakeasy and not a hidden trap house.

“Am not, I swear this is the place!”

The three of you approached the steel door, Nami confidently being the one to ring the doorbell that was attached to a small intercom system. It took a few breathless moments of mild worry before a voice filled with static came through the speaker.

“Password?”

You and Ikkaku were both blindsided as Nami crossed her arms over her chest and loudly proclaimed, “Suck my big, fat cock.”

Another few seconds of silence followed before the lock on the door clicked open and the same voice from before spoke, “Come in.”

“What the fuck,” you muttered in shock.

“Told you it was legit!” Nami chided with a giggle.

“A place that makes you say, ‘Suck my big, fat cock,’ as a password doesn’t seem very legit to me, but I’ll take your word for it,” Ikkaku mused as she followed Nami through the door and down a flight of stairs only illuminated with blue and pink fluorescent lights.

Graffiti completely covered the entire interior of the stairwell, leaving no part of concrete untouched from colorful ink. Even the ceiling above you was marked in elaborate, incomprehensible swirls and zags of paint of all different colors, made even more colorful in the odd lighting. The stairwell seemed to last forever as you followed your two friends down into the underground, clutching the steel railing for dear life as your tipsy vertigo fought with your ability to walk down a flight of steps. You finally reached the bottom to another door, this time lined with a soft, cushiony leather fabric. Nami pulled open the door and greeted a black-clad man standing in the small room directly behind it.

“IDs,” he grumbled. Straight to the point.

The three of you fumbled through your purses for your driver’s licenses before handing each of them over to the man for a review. He clicked on a pocket flashlight, scanning each card, handing them back to you with a hum. “Enjoy the night, ladies.” His large hand pushed open another door that was hidden in the wall itself.

The room that was opened to you was unlike any of the other bars you had entered, both during your current crawl and in your entire adult life previous. The room was cloaked in a sexy blue and pink lighting, decorative art of pin-up models framed on the walls along with retro-inspired neon signs and liquor branding. Groups of people filled the tables nearby, laughing and drinking through the booming music that flowed freely through the space. It was crowded, almost overwhelmingly so, but you squeezed close to Ikkaku’s back as you pushed your way through the other patrons to get to the bar. Your hand accidentally grabbed Ikkaku’s ass as her shoulder bumped into your breast, both of you wheezing out surprised laughter.

You popped through the stream of people to the bar which was, unsurprisingly, completely filled with every seat taken. Two men worked tirelessly behind the counter, filling shakers with liquor and mixers, bitters and juices. A bin of assorted fruits sat open in front of patrons, allowing the bartenders to grab their garnishes quickly and decorate their glasses with expert precision before passing them off to elated, tipsy customers. You, Nami, and Ikkaku squeezed yourselves into the far corner of the bar, between the counter and a booth of patrons.

“At least we can stand here! It’s a bit crowded but it’ll do for now,” the red-head yelled through the shaking stereo that sat nearby.

One of the two bartenders waved his hand in the air to attract your attention. Long, spikey auburn hair framed a sharp face and crooked nose. You were confused at the angular sunglasses that covered his eyes, but paid no mind in the end. His voice cut through the music, but was clearly worn after a long night of screaming at people because of the volume. “What can I get for you, ladies?”

Nami handed the man her credit card, explaining that she was going to close out after one drink for each of them, which he gladly accepted and placed in a secure box by the register. Your eyes frantically scanned the illuminated menu above the bar, the raunchy, debauched names of the signature cocktails revealing absolutely nothing about their ingredients.

“What the hell is a ‘Fuck Me Sideways?’” you shouted towards your friends.

The man behind the counter cackled. “That’s a pineapple daiquiri! It’s sour as fuck, hence the name!”

Your mind flashed back to your conversation from the street, mouth once again salivating at the thought of the tangy, delicious concoction. “I’ll get that please!”

The man memorized your three orders and immediately got to work. You watched idly as he nudged his coworker’s shoulder and alerted him of the order so he could help with making your drinks. It was then that your eyes trailed to said coworker.

All sound in the room faded into a muffled nothingness as your eyes narrowed on the other bartender, pupils dilating. Toned, tanned arms and hands were littered in elaborate, grungy tattoos, and you could tell with the way his worn t-shirt dipped below his collarbones that he had another large piece on his chest, defining his pectorals even from beneath his clothing. His jawline was sharp, a small goatee defining his chin, black sideburns framing his perfect face as intense, golden eyes focused on his work. His tongue poked out from his thick lips slightly, revealing a tiny glimpse of a stud pierced through the muscle, and giving his intimidating appearance a sudden adorable qualm as long, deft fingers poured shots of liquor into his metal shaker cup.

You barely noticed the fingers snapping in your face.

“Hey, Earth to Apollo! Can you read me?” Ikkaku hollered directly in your ear, shaking you out of your trance.

You jumped in surprise, music fading back into your consciousness as the sound of Nami’s laughter brought you firmly back to reality.

“Looks like someone’s got the hots for the emo bartender over there!” sang the red-head, leaning against the wall and making a very lewd gesture with her hands.

You grumbled. “Do not!”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Ikkaku chuckled in response. “He is pretty cute… if you don’t make a move I might.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you growled, making your best friends roar in laughter. A rush of blood filled your face with an embarrassed heat. “He probably already has a partner, a guy as hot as him can’t possibly be single.”

“There’s only one way to find that out, and it’s to talk to him,” lectured Nami. “Come on, you’re on a bar crawl, you’re drunk, you’re hot, your pants make your ass look fucking amazing. I would look the other way if you dragged that hunk to the bathrooms.”

“Nami! Shut up!” you screamed, thoroughly embarrassed now. It’s not like anyone could hear your conversation amongst the intense volume of the room, but the subject matter still made you flush from your tailbone to the crown of your head.

The conversation dissipated into enthusiasm about the location, the three of you taking note of the sex-positive decor and how good the playlist was. Every once in a while, your eyes would dart back to the raven-haired man with his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as he filtered a cocktail through the metal strainer and into a slim, iced glass. He reached forward into his box of garnishes, procuring a thin lime wedge and expertly slicing it down the middle to perch it on the rim of the glass. As you were staring at him, his eyes darted up directly meeting yours. Your face flushed red hot with embarrassment, but before you could yank your gaze away, he flashed you a grin that had your legs quivering. He held up the drink. It was your’s.

You pulled away from Nami and Ikkaku who hardly noticed your movement as you approached the bar and reached between two peoples’ shoulders to grab your cocktail from the man who kept his deep, golden eyes on your form the entire time. An elated, cold sweat ran up your spine and you flashed him as good of a smile as you could through your ceaseless embarrassment that he had caught you staring.

Once the drink was in your hands, he tossed you a wink.

You hobbled back toward Nami and Ikkaku who were already holding their own orders, sipping idly through their conversation.

“You look like you got spooked by a ghost or something!” giggled Ikkaku, squeezing your left cheek with her fingers.

“Ikka, that hot emo bartender gave her her daiquiri!” Nami replied for you, making the curly-haired girl gasp in excitement.

“Did he say anything? Did you say anything?” The questions rolled off of her tongue faster than your heart rate.

“He just winked at me, and smiled, I guess,” you stated through nervous breaths.

Your best friends dragged you into the conversation that had developed in the short time you were away getting your drink, but when you tossed another glance over your shoulder, you once again locked with golden eyes that froze your feet to the ground.

—

You weren’t exactly sure how much time had passed over all, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour. You and your friends finished your drinks, closed out your tab, and proceeded to the dance floor to burn off energy under the neon disco lights and pounding music. You let your mind stray away from the bartender’s piercing glare while you moved your hips against Nami’s, the two of you poking fun at Ikkaku from afar as she found herself in an awkward dance with a random man who was far from her type (that is to say: not a woman). The room was dipping slightly around you, the sweet pineapple daiquiri definitely making you tipsier than you wanted to be. You didn’t have to pee at that moment, but you figured it would be worth a shot to sober you up even just slightly. With a nudge against Nami’s shoulder, you pointed to the bathroom, mouthing your intentions, and waved to her as you walked toward the back of the room through the sea of happy, alcohol-fueled patrons.

The bathroom was situated behind the bar past a few rows of small booth tables, and the further you walked from the center of the lounge the more the music faded to a much more tolerable volume. The walls remained lined with graffiti, which you trailed with your eyes as you walked, marveling at the tantalizing swirls of colors and personalized messages and names memorialized forever on the concrete. You finally rounded the corner into the small corridor where the two single bathrooms were found, along with a single broom closet that was kept closed with a padlock. Your feet blindly led you towards one of the bathroom doors that was cracked open.

“You know, those pants make your ass look phenomenal.”

A husky voice stopped you in your tracks. A million thoughts rushed through your mind within an instant. Who was talking to you? Did you get followed to the bathroom? Were you being watched? Were you in danger? Should you have brought your purse with you instead of leaving it with Nami? Were you going to make a run for it?

Fighting against your flight, you turned around to face the voice that cut through the muffled music.

Intense, golden eyes, raven-black hair, and a sly, toothy smirk.

“Sorry if I scared you, I promise I didn’t follow you back here,” he added, his face morphing from a flirtatious, mischievous expression into a more apologetic one. “I had to take a piss, too.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, really!” you replied, inwardly wincing at how your voice involuntarily quivered with excited anxiety. The Hot Emo Bartender was standing in front of you. Had he just complimented your ass? “And, uhm, thank you! For my ass. I mean, for saying I look good. Or, phenomenal, I think?” You pinched your lips shut forcing yourself to cease your drunken rambling, but your reaction only made the man’s mouth curl into a grin as a laugh bubbled out of his throat.

“Go sober up in there, princess, then we’ll talk. I’ll wait for you out here.” The man ended his sentence by entering the second unoccupied bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

You quickly did the same. The bathroom had the exact same aesthetic and lighting as the rest of the establishment, the mirror completely covered in graffiti and leaving little room to view your current appearance after you finished your business. You gazed through the dried ink, fixing your hair with your fingers and pushing your boobs into place under your top, blowing an encouraging huff out of your mouth before washing your hands, drying them, and exiting the bathroom into the corridor once more.

The man had indeed waited for you, leaning nonchalantly against the wall with one leg up checking his phone. He was tall, much taller than you, and his legs were long and skinny, complemented beautifully by his tight, bespeckled jeans. The spots were definitely an odd aesthetic choice in your mind, but you couldn’t complain. Somehow, they suited his vibe perfectly. He picked his head up and looked you up and down, that charming, mischievous grin once again returning to his lips.

“Feel better?”

“Absolutely, I didn’t think you’d actually wait out here,” you confirmed. Somehow, your voice had evened out from the anxious drunken stupor you sported before. Maybe pissing out the alcohol did have its merits.

“Good, I wanted to talk to you but needed to see if you were too drunk first. Those pineapple daiquiris are really something,” he explained.

You were very quickly gaining more comfort in his presence, isolated from the club beyond the corridor in the dim lighting that accentuated his cheekbones and gave him the sexiest aura you had ever seen. You swallowed your pounding heart and returned his grin.

“Talk to me? Out of everyone here?” you questioned, putting on your charm.

“I don’t just talk to any random bar patron,” he responded. “In fact, I barely talk to anyone here at all. But how could I pass up such an alluring face?” He stepped across the corridor to you, reaching out a hand that smelled like the generic brand soap in the bathroom. His callouses tickled the fine hairs of your cheek and chin.

“And ass?” you asked innocently, clearly enjoying the little game you two had initiated.

“And ass,” he repeated. “Though…” his eyes trailed up and down your body from his closer angle, eating you up through your clothes. “You’re definitely the most stunning girl I’ve ever seen, all around.” His golden eyes met yours once more. “You have beautiful eyes.”

He had done it now. You were beyond flustered, convinced that your entire body was glowing red and steaming like a geyser from your anticipation and embarrassment at his tender compliments. A part of you still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t the type to talk up every woman at the bar, but Nami’s words from prior bounced through your skull. You were drunk, you were hot, and damn it, your pants did make your ass look good! You only live once, right?

With alcohol and adrenaline fueled courage you never experienced before, you closed the narrow gap between your bodies and pressed your lips against his, standing on your toes and grasping his shoulders to steady yourself. The anxious voice in your head told you he was going to push you away, call you some horrible slur and leave you in the dust to regret every choice you made leading up to that moment.

You were very pleasantly surprised when his lanky arms looped around your waist, clutching you close to his sturdy form as he moved his lips against yours. You weren’t an expert kisser by any means, but something about the way his mouth moved told you that he wasn’t actually used to doing this, more of a smooth-talker than a do-er. He was reluctant to open his mouth to allocate for your tongue, instead simply pursing and unpursing his lips against yours. The feeling made you pull away, failing to suppress the giggle that followed.

Before you had the chance to make any snide, lighthearted comment, however, a tattooed hand traveled down your arm and gripped your hand, dragging you toward the broom closet. He fiddled with the padlock on the door without letting you go, shoving open the entrance with his shoulder and pulling you inside. The door slammed behind you, now almost completely muffling the music blaring from within the club. The two of you were now free from prying eyes that might wander into the corridor to use the bathroom, completely unaware of the actions taking place just one door away.

In the stark darkness of the closet, the man’s hands found the collar of your shirt and pulled it down as best as he could, encouraging you to slip your arms out and pull it over your head. His lips pecked at your jaw, your chin, your neck, and the dip of your breast as you unhooked your bra and let it flop to the floor. Your own hands grasped his ratty t-shirt and yanked it over his head, its loose fit making undressing his torso much easier. Your fingers now had access to his bare skin, your breath hitching in your throat as you blindly felt around firm abdominal muscles that met a lean yet supple chest and broad shoulders. Even through the lack of light you could tell just how attractive this man was. A smattering of coarse hairs covered his chest and stomach, but for the most part he was well trimmed, save for the patch of hair that you felt at his naval. You heard his breath catch in his throat as your fingers followed the dip of his pelvic bone and trailed along the belt of his jeans.

“Wait,” his airy voice muttered. “I need to know your name.”

You laughed, divulging your information. You felt his lips smile against the skin of your neck.

“I’m Law,” he added.

“Law…” you exhaled his name on your soft, aroused breath. “Can you fuck me, Law?”

A low groan rumbled through Law’s throat as his hands now played at your own waistband. “Anything for you, princess.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #catch up fic

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eiralunaire · 2 months ago

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Midnight

Damian Wayne x Reader.

It's a quiet night in Gotham, the full moon illuminating the city with a soft glow that makes the shadows seem less threatening. Damian Wayne, in his Robin suit, glides across the rooftops, his steps silent on the steel beams and brick walls. Though his mission is to patrol the city, his mind is somewhere else - or rather, on someone else.

Finally, he reaches his destination: an apartment building in a relatively safe neighborhood of Gotham. Without making a sound, he jumps up and grabs onto the edge of the balcony, poking his head out just enough to see her, a young woman who has captured his attention in a way he doesn't quite understand. Reader is on her balcony, like she is most nights, with a cup of tea in her hand and a carefree expression, as if the chaos of Gotham is a million miles away.

"Here we go again, 'Boy Wonder'?" she questions, with a sarcastic smile. “Or do you just like scaring girls on their balconies for sport?”

Damian climbs onto the balcony with feline agility, crossing his arms as he stares at her and leans his back against the railing. “Patrolling the city is part of my job. I’m not here for… entertainment.”

Reader laughs softly and leans back against the railing. “Sure, whatever you say. But if you ever get tired of saving the world, you can always join me for a cup of tea. It’s less stressful.”

Robin tries hard not to show the small smile that threatens to escape her lips. “I’m not here for tea.”

“I see that. But still, you manage to come here every night.” She leans towards him, a playful look in her eyes. “Could it be that you’re starting to like me, Robin?”

Damian frowns, looking away. “Ridiculous.”

Reader laughs, but there's a softness in her tone as she adds, "It's okay, don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Your secrets are safe with me."

The way she says it, so carefree yet sincere, unnerves him. Damian feels a knot in his stomach, a mix of emotions he's been trying to deny. His life has always been discipline, focused on his training, saving civilians, and missions, and these kinds of feelings are a distraction, something he can't afford. But he can't help but come back here, feel what he feels, night after night, just to see her.

"I should go," he says abruptly, turning to leave the balcony.

"Have a good night, 'Wonder Boy'." She smiles, raising her cup in a farewell gesture. "See you tomorrow, I guess."

Damian pauses for a second, feeling the heat on his face before he disappears into the shadows. As he walks away, Reader’s voice and carefree smile still linger in his mind. He tries to convince himself that this is all just a coincidence, that she doesn’t mean anything, but deep down he knows he’s lying to himself. And that frustrates him more than any villain he’s ever faced.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #dc comics

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fab-bladesmith · 7 months ago

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A Sword and Scabbard, in the style of the XI-XIIth centuries.

The blade itself follows one of the possible construction methods of the time, albeit being made of modern materials: a layer of high carbon steel forge-welded between lower carbon alloy. Thus hard steel is kept for the edges, and softer metal for the rest - which was also the point, as the fuller sports on both sides an inlay is brass, and although what it spells is not really historically accurate, the lettering at least is.

The straight Cross and Brazil Nut Pommel are of old iron with a nice, rich pattern, and both were made the "old way", with hammer and fire, according to methods I documented over the course of my PhD.

The Grip is vegetable tanned leather over linen thread over wood.

The scabbard is lined with parchment, and is made of beech wood covered in linen cloth - wrapped over near the point - and vegetable tanned leather. The decoration was made by gluing flax thread and leather cuts over the linen, and is inspired by folio 89 of the ms.002 (tome II) in the City Library of Boulogne-sur-mer.

The suspension system was heavily inspired by the wonderful scabbard in the treasury of the Bamberg cathedral (thanks to Roland Warzecha a.k.a. Dimicator for sharing this with us all), though here I used calf leather.

Chape is hand-forged in steel, and heat-blued.

It is 1018 mm long, with a 888 mm blade, 40 mm wide and 4.65 mm thick at its base. The span of the cross is 205 mm.

And although quite light (771 grams) it is still a powerful cutter, with a center of gravity some 18 cm down the blade.

Making this set was quite the learning experience, as it often is, and that's also one of the highlights of this trade.

Thanks to all who made this possible.

#Historical #Historique #Sword #Epee

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communicationthroughlyrics · 4 months ago

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That Haunts Me Everyday

For years, you hid your feelings for Natasha, and one night, the floodgates opened. But the aftermath in the following days is what dictates your relationship going forward- if there is one.

TW: angsty, Nat is a cocky asshole, Wanda calls bullshit, poorly translated Russian, ehhhh yeah. That covers it, I think XD

Word Count: 8.6K

The wind howled by your window as you drove down the highway toward New York City. You were tapping along with the song playing through the radio, approaching the needed exit. Your phone buzzed with a text from your mom. "Just finished the project," you wrote back, a smirk playing on your lips. Your heart began to race as you neared your destination, the events of the last week's passion playing in your mind.

The week had been eye-opening, to say the least, Natasha finally cornering you, and confronting you about your feelings. You had always harbored romantic feelings and sexual tension for the redhead. But you didn't want to taint the working relationship you had, so you kept the emotions and feelings at bay, masking your pain when she would leave for a mission, the despair when she would return hurt, or the jealousy and rage when she would drag a conquest through the compound for the night.

Now you were going to face her again, and you didn't know what to expect. Would she be cold and professional, or would she finally acknowledge the fiery chemistry between you two? The car grew warm as you thought about the night you had shared, the touch of her skin, the way she had looked at you as she whispered sweet nothings into your ear. She had laughed at your hesitancy but reassured you as she held your bare body to hers after an evening caught in the throes of passion. The wind outside seemed to mimic the tumultuous emotions swirling within you.

As you pulled into the secure parking lot, you looked up at the building before you. The compound was lit up like a fortress, the fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows across the concrete. The smell of summer was in the air, not doing much to quell your current whirlwind of emotions as you neared where the redhead was. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the unknown as you stepped out of the car. You could hear the dull thump of music, telling you that Tony was likely throwing a get-together, a celebration of the most recent successful mission.

Walking through the main doors, you felt a sense of déjà vu. The same hallways, the same agents passing by, but something felt fundamentally different. Your heart thudded in your chest as you made your way to the living quarters. You hadn't seen her since that night, the night that had changed everything. You were stalking down the hallway, mentally preparing yourself for what was waiting at the end. Would she greet you? Hug you? Or completely ignore your presence?

The music grew louder as you approached the source of the party. You could hear the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional roar of victory from the guys watching a sports game on the giant flat-screen. You took another deep breath and pushed open the door to the common area. The room was a blur of motion and sound, but your eyes immediately found Natasha, standing across the room, surrounded by a few of the other agents. No one seemed to notice your arrival, and you set your bag by the door before silently walking towards Nat. For a spy, she seemed none the wiser to your presence, and it was then that you realized what she was talking about.

One of the rookie agents she was talking to caught your attention. "Come on Romanoff, you always have someone in your bed." they all laughed at this, including her.

"True, I do," she began. The room seemed to grow quiet, the laughter dying away as Natasha's words hung in the air. "But not just anyone can handle it," she finished, a cocky smile playing on her lips. "No one can handle me for more than a night." Your stomach dropped, and your chest tightened as you took in her words. You stood rooted in your place as she continued, clearly inebriated and oblivious to your presence nearby.

"Oh please, Romanoff. You had to have had someone in your life that was worth a second spin around the block." Benson, another rookie chimed in.

"No, that's my number one rule," Natasha said, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark that sent a chill down your spine. "Never let them get too close, and never let it mean anything." You watched her, trying to gauge if she was referring to you. It was as if she had slapped you across the face with her nonchalance. "No emotions, no feelings. Sex is just sex, and it hurts when it means something."

Her words felt like a knife twisting in your gut. The room was a sea of faces that you had worked alongside for years, but none of them looked at you. The room felt like it was spinning as your mind raced. Before you could react, Tony's voice boomed over the music, announcing your arrival. "Look who the cat dragged in!" His eyes locked onto you, and the room swiveled in your direction. You couldn't process what you had just heard, especially after the hours-long conversation the two of you had, you discussing your reluctance and fear in letting the woman in. Was she so cold, to say the right things just to get you into her bed?

Natasha's eyes searched the room, and when she found yours, she froze. The smile dropped from her face, and the color drained from her cheeks. For a moment, you thought she was going to stride over to you, apologize, explain. But she didn't move. She just stood there, looking at you as if you were a ghost.

You turned on your heels, your eyes now brimming as you willed your tears not to fall in front of everyone. The only one in this crowd who knew was Wanda. She had long been your confidant about your emotions and feelings, and while she normally didn't read your mind, your thoughts were currently too loud to ignore. She shot Natasha a stern glare as everyone seemed to watch you run out of the room, and down the hallway. You needed to be alone. To think. To breathe.

You decided against the elevator, opting to run down the stairs, your shoes slapping against the dull grey concrete as you descended towards your car. Each step brought a new wave of pain crashing into your chest, Natasha's words echoing in your mind like a cruel mantra. "Sex is just sex, and it hurts when it means something." Did she truly believe that? Was she capable of feeling anything beyond the physical? You had caved, finally telling her how you felt, and much to your surprise, she said that she had felt the same way, for a long time. Since you had joined S.H.I.E.L.D, in fact, but didn't want to change your working dynamic.

But here you were, feeling like a fool. Like you had let your guard down for a woman who saw you as nothing more than a conquest, a notch on her bedpost. You reached the parking lot, the night air cooling your flushed cheeks as you stumbled into the quiet solitude. The door of your car slammed shut behind you, muffling the outside world as you gripped the steering wheel and took deep, ragged breaths, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. You struggled with your keys, finally fidgeting with them enough to find the correct one, probing it around until you finally stuck it into the ignition, turning it with a shaky hand and hearing the car come to life.

The engine purred under your palms as you sat there, unable to move. You felt like a teenager who had just had their heart broken for the first time. But you weren't a teenager, you were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., trained to handle the most intense situations with poise and grace. You had faced gods and aliens and survived, but Natasha Romanoff had managed to cut you deeper than any blade ever could. You leaned back in your seat, closed your eyes, and let the pain wash over you.

Natasha's words continue to echo throughout your mind, jumbling themselves with the sights and sounds of the two of you tangled between the bedsheets, the vision of her begging for you to make her cum, bleeding into "sex is just sex" as the tears finally cascaded over. Your anger began to boil, and you slammed the gear shift into reverse, peeling out of your parking spot, as you drove away, tires squealing into the night with a cloud of dust and debris.

The drive was a blur, the only things keeping you company were the tears running down your cheeks and the painful knot in your chest. You didn't know where you were going, you just knew you had to get out of there. The wind rushing through the open window felt like ice against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of Natasha's embrace from just days ago. You couldn't believe that she could be so callous, so cold. But then again, you told yourself that you shouldn't be surprised. She's a Black Widow, after all. She's trained for this. You were a fool to believe any different.

The oncoming lights were hazy, a halo ring of light as you continued to speed down the road, wiping your face with the back of your hand. The wind whipping in your cracked windows stung your eyes, mixing with your tears and leaving a salty taste on your lips. You had never felt so humiliated in your life. The woman you had bared your soul to had just casually tossed aside your confession like it meant nothing.

You reached a deserted stretch of road, and without thought, you pulled over, slamming the car into park. The engine ticked as it cooled down, and you sat there, feeling the adrenaline leave your body. The night was eerily quiet except for the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle of leaves. You felt like you were going to be sick, so you opened the door and stepped out into the cool air. Leaning against the car, you took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.

The stars above looked down on you, indifferent to your plight. You felt small, insignificant. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, Natasha had felt something for you. That the connection you felt was real. But now, it was clear that she had used you, played you like a fiddle. Deciding that you would go back to your apartment for the night, instead of the compound, you took a deep breath before climbing back into the car.

As you turned the key, the engine roared back to life, and you eased onto the road, the quietness of the night settling in around you. But fate had other plans. A blur of headlights in the distance grew larger, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized the car was hurtling towards you at an alarming speed. Panic set in as you frantically honked your horn, trying to get their attention. But it was too late. The collision sent your world spinning, the crunch of metal and shatter of glass piercing the quiet of the night. The impact threw you against the side of your car, and everything went black.

~3rd Person POV~

“Natalia Alianovna Romanoff!” Wanda growled as she approached the widow before her. “Kak ty smeyesh' obrashchat'sya s ney tak, budto ona vsego lish' yeshche odno iz tvoikh zavoyevaniy!” She snarled in Natasha’s face, where the redhead was too stunned to speak. She hadn’t moved since Tony called out your presence, her stomach dropped when she saw how close Y/N was to the conversation she had been having with the newest recruits. She knew she messed up, she saw it the moment the pain flashed in your eyes, the tears shortly thereafter. Natasha knew you wanted to cry, but wouldn’t do it in front of everyone.

“Oooh! Nat’s in trouble! The witch is yelling at her in Russian!” Someone chimed in from the back, Wanda didn’t seem to quite care who as red tendrils drifted from her hands as she silently told whoever was chiming in to shut up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, witchy!” Tony steps in between the widow and the witch, unsure of what is taking place.

Natasha’s heart was racing, she felt her body tense up as Wanda’s words hit her like a slap to the face. She had never seen Wanda this angry before. The Avenger’s base was eerily silent, all eyes on the two of them. “I... I didn’t mean it like that, Wanda. I just-“

"You just crushed that woman's heart, Natasha!" Wanda's eyes were glowing red at this point, her fury making no effort to hide. "How many times do I have to remind you that she's not just another mission or conquest for you to charm your way through?"

Natasha's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "You don't know what you're talking about, Wanda," she replied through gritted teeth, her Russian accent thickening with her emotions. "It's not like that."

"Oh? It's not like that?! Suka! Tell me what it is then!" Wanda stepped closer, her chest bumping into Tony's side as he stood between the two, separating them albeit halfheartedly, with a look of bewilderment on his face.

"What is going on?!" Tony and Steve yelled at the same time, everyone else sensing that this party was all but over, and leaving quietly. This was not a conversation for thier ears anymore.

Wanda's glowing eyes never left Natasha's as she continued her verbal assault. "You think you can just use people, Natasha? That your charm and good looks can get you out of any situation without consequences?!"

"Jesus, you two! What the hell is going on?!" Steve yelled louder, finally stepping in, pushing Tony out of the way so he could guide Wanda back away from Natasha.

Natasha took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes never leaving Wanda's. "I didn't use her, Wanda. I care about her," she whispered, the words barely audible over the pulse in her ears.

"That one," Wanda pointed over at Natasha, her fury evident in her tone. "Y/N finally told Natasha how she felt, after being scared for so long that Natasha didn't feel the same. She didn't want to be used, she wanted a serious chance with Romanoff." she started, hardly hiding her disappointment with the Russian. "And what does Natasha do? She plays it off like it's some kind of game like she doesn't understand the gravity of Y/N's feelings!"

Tony's face paled as he realized the severity of the situation. Tony had always seen you like a daughter, your passion for technology and science instantly endeared you to the older man. "Oh, Natasha," he murmured, shaking his head. Steve, equally shocked, turned to Natasha with a stern look. "Is this true?" Natasha's shoulders slumped, Wanda, tilting her head as they waited for a response.

"It's complicated," she began, but Wanda cut her off.

"No, Natasha. It's not. You either care for her, or you don't. You either respect her feelings, or you don't. There is no 'complicated' when it comes to someone's heart! You slept with her AFTER she told you her feelings, and how scared she was." Wanda's voice had gone eerily quiet. "And now, after she told you everything, and you helped her to feel EVERYTHING, you tell people that 'sex is just sex?', that it means nothing to you?!"

Steve's eyes were narrowed, his grip on Wanda's arm tightening slightly. "Natasha, is this true?" he asked his voice firm but not unkind.

"And for what? To fit in with the boys? To be like one of them? Just because?!" Wanda's voice raised again, her anger evident with Natasha.

"No... that's not," Natasha started, now staring at the floor to avoid the gaze of all the Avengers surrounding her. Even Clint's usually understanding gaze was suddenly cold to the Russian. "That's not what I was doing, that was never my intention Wanda. You know that."

"Then what was your intention?!" Wanda's voice echoed through the room, her words laced with pain and accusation. The silence was so thick, it was as if the very air had turned to ice.

"Enough, Wanda." Steve finally cut in, breaking through the tension.

Natasha took the opportunity to find her voice again, looking up at Wanda with a mix of sadness and defiance. "My intention was never to hurt her, Wanda. You know that. I care about Y/N. A lot."

Tony, sensing the opportunity, stepped in. "Natasha, follow me. Everyone else, continue as before." he turned and walked away, a silent command for the redhead to follow. Wanda turned and went to her room, intent on trying to connect with you to make sure you were ok. Steve and Clint returned to the dinner table, thier beer in hand as they sat in silence, digesting what just happened.

Tony led Natasha into his lab, motioning for her to sit on one of the stools. "I'm going to talk for a little bit, and I expect silence unless I say," he began, a cold, stern look crossing his face. "You need to understand, Natasha, that Y/N is not just another mission or asset. She's a person, with feelings, dreams, and fears. Just like you. And she's part of this family." Natasha opened her mouth, but Tony quickly held up his finger, telling her to be quiet. "Now, I have had my share of playboy moments, Natasha." He stood over by his window, looking out on the city below. "Of all people here, I can understand the notch on the bedpost. However," he turned around, facing her. "This is low, even for you. You know that I see her like my own daughter, I've taken her under my wing. Y/N and I work many late nights together, oftentimes, working on equipment and technology for all of you."

Natasha nodded, a distant look in her eyes as she fiddled with her hands. "Many of those nights, Y/N confided in me, about numerous things. You- were one of them." Tony's voice was softer now, filled with a mix of sadness and disappointment. "She talked about her feelings for you, how she was afraid to confess because she didn't want to ruin what we have here. But I could tell," he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "She is crazy about you. And not in a high school crush sort of way."

Natasha swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in her throat. "I didn't mean to lead her on, Tony. I just didn't know how to handle it. I've never-" he stuck up his finger, telling her to be quiet.

"While you may not have felt like that was what you were doing," he began, sitting himself before the widow. "You need to look at this from her point of view."

"How so?" her voice was slightly higher than usual, a result of her trying not to cry.

"Well, Nat. Y/N has been with us for," he thought for a moment, trying to recall when they all first met Y/N.

"Six years." Natasha cut in.

"Ah, yes. Six years. However- she had known about you for much longer, most of the world had." his gaze became distant as he continued. "She thought that at first, it was just a celebrity-type crush, that her crush would go away. But it didn't, Natasha. She harbored these feelings for you for a long time. But she waited and watched. And when she finally gathered the courage to say something, you threw it back in her face. You just had to go and tell someone that there are no feelings, no chances for anyone with you." Tony leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you know how much courage that takes, for someone to confess thier feelings and face one of thier greatest fears?"

Natasha's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back, trying to maintain her composure. "I do, Tony," she whispered. "More than you know."

Tony sighed, his face softening. "Look, Natasha. I know you've been through a lot. And I know you've got walls around your heart taller than the Snap's dust. But you can't keep using people to keep those walls standing. You can't keep telling yourself that you don't deserve happiness because of your past. You, of all of us, deserve happiness, and to feel love."

Natasha's eyes searched Tony's, seeing the concern and the care that the billionaire had for her and Y/N. She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "What do I do, Tony?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"You go and you talk to her," Tony said firmly. "You tell her the truth. Not the 'it's complicated' bullshit, Natasha. The truth. What you truly feel."

Natasha nodded slowly, her heart racing at the thought of facing Y/N after everything. She knew she had hurt her, and the weight of it was crushing her. "But what if she doesn't believe me, Tony?"

"You'll have to find a way to make her understand, Natasha," Tony replied, his voice gentle but firm. "This isn't about convincing her or fixing things with some charm or clever words. It's about being honest with her, with yourself."

"I love her, Tony. I always have." Natasha's voice was barely a whisper, the weight of her confession hanging heavy in the air.

Tony studied her for a moment, searching for any signs of deceit, but all he saw was pain and regret. He knew Natasha had walls, but he also knew that when she did care about someone, it was deep and genuine. "I know you do," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But you shouldn't be telling me that. You need to tell her everything. And if she's willing to listen, you two can figure this out together."

"Guys, we have a situation," Clint cut in, a distant look in his eyes as they darted between Tony and Natasha.

"What situation?" Natasha's voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife.

"Y/N." was all Clint said before turning around and running out of the room. Natasha and Tony both shot each other a distraught look on thier faces. They both ran out of the lab, through the maze of hallways before coming back to the living room.

"What happened?" Natasha asked quietly, a tremble in her words. Wanda shot her a resentful glare, before chiming in.

"I've been trying to check in on Y/N, to make sure she's ok," Wanda's icy stare never left Natashas as she continued. "I couldn't get a hold of her, I realized she left her phone here in her bag by the door when she left."

Natasha's eyes widened with concern. "Where did she go?"

"Well, F.R.I.D.A.Y confirmed she left in her car," Clint chimed in.

"I can't," Wanda's emotions began to surface. "I can't make a connection with her. I tried," she started to cry as the thoughts of what could be wrong with her best friend hit her light a ton of bricks.

"Wha-what do you mean, connection, Wanda?" Natasha asks, her voice trembling as she tries to be strong.

Wanda sniffles, "I mean, I can't feel her. She's either blocked me out," she began, the others waiting on edge. "Or something has happened." She turns away, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

"We need to find her," Natasha says, her voice firm as she stands up, her mind racing. "We can't just sit here."

"Agreed," Tony nods, his mind already racing through the possibilities. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you track her car?" The A.I. voice cuts through the silence.

"Y/N's vehicle was last detected upstate, near Poughkeepsie. It's since gone offline."

"How long, F.R.I.D.A.Y?" Natasha asked, her voice now exceedingly stressed as her mind raced to the worst.

"The signal was lost approximately fifty minutes ago." The A.I. responded, cold and emotionless.

Natasha ran, not even grabbing her coat as she flew down the hall to the elevator, pressing the button over and over, willing the steel cube to move any faster.

"I'm coming with you," a cold voice came from Natasha's left. She turned, seeing the tear-stained face of Wanda next to her. "She's my best friend, Natasha. She better be ok. I cannot lose another," Wanda began to cry again.

Tony nodded solemnly, the seriousness of the situation weighing on everyone's shoulders. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, gather the team. We need to find Y/N," he ordered, his voice carrying the gravity of the situation. The A.I. acknowledged with a beep.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, come on!" Natasha yelled at the elevator, seemingly going slower than ever. Wanda remained silent beside her, her eyes swollen and red, her grip on her jacket tight. She had never seen Natasha this scared before, and it scared her even more. The elevator doors finally opened, and Natasha bolted out, running to the garage where the Corvette was parked. Wanda followed close behind, her fears growing with every step.

Natasha hopped in the car, and Wanda took the passenger seat, the silence between them thick with tension. Natasha revved the engine and sped out of the Avengers compound, her eyes focused on the road ahead. They drove in silence, each lost in their thoughts of worry and regret. The little arrow on the vehicle's GPS led a speeding Natasha toward the last location where Y/N's car was detected.

When you came to, the taste of blood was in your mouth, and your vision was blurred. You felt a sharp pain in your side as well as your head, and the world was tilted at an odd angle. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your head as you tried to move. You realized you were in the driver's seat of your car, the airbag deflated around you like a sad, lifeless pillow. Panic began to set in as you took stock of your surroundings. The car was off the road, deep in the woods, and the smell of burning metal filled your nose. You had been in an accident.

Your car had slammed into a tree, and the side of the vehicle was crumpled inwards, the glass shattered like a jagged crystal sculpture. You fumbled with your seatbelt, trying to free yourself from the confines that had just saved your life. Your thoughts raced back to Natasha, the words she had said, and the look on her face.

Realizing you were upside down, and that you were trying to move, but nothing was happening began to panic you. A warm drip was running up your back, inching towards your neck as you moved your arm, touching to see the crimson liquid coating your fingers. Blood, your blood, was everywhere. The faint sound of a horn was coming from the distance, but you couldn't move. You were pinned in the car.

The cold air was seeping through the cracks in the glass, sending shivers down your spine. You took a deep breath, feeling the pain in your chest and the pressure on your side. You had to get out of here. Your attempts were futile, and you finally gave in to the creeping pain and exhaustion washing over you, your adrenaline quickly wearing off.

Natasha and Wanda were rapidly approaching the area, Natasha's spy senses heightened as Wanda sought any form of connection with you. They wound through the mountainous terrain, coming across a long pair of tire marks on the pavement, leading them to an 18-wheeler that was separated from its trailer, which was a mangled wreck of metal and rubber on the side of the road, the truck on its roof on the side of the road.

"Oh god, no," Natasha whispered at the sight before her.

"Do you think?" Wanda asked the spy, not wanting the confirmation.

"There's another set of tire tracks, but no car," Natasha whispered.

They both jumped out of the Corvette, Natasha's heart racing like a wild horse. She saw the blood on the window and the crumpled metal of the truck, but her concern was elsewhere.

"Call for help!" she yelled at Wanda, running off where the second set of tire marks left the road. She followed the grooves cut deep into the earth, as the tracks led down a steep embankment into the woods that ran below the road.

Her boots crunched through the frosty leaves, and she heard the distant wail of sirens, but Natasha ignored them, focusing solely on finding you. Her eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of a car, hoping against all odds that it either wasn't you or that you had somehow survived.

As she reached the bottom of the embankment, Natasha's eyes fell upon the crumpled form of your car, wrapped around a massive oak tree. The sight sent a cold shock through her body, and she couldn't help but let out a strangled cry. She sprinted towards the wreckage, her mind racing with scenarios of what she might find.

"WANDA!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, needing the witch's help to get you out of this mangled mess, and fast. The amount of blood coming from the car sent a chill down her spine.

Wanda was already halfway down the hill, her jacket billowing behind her like a storm cloud as she rushed to Natasha's side. "We need to get her out," Natasha said through gritted teeth, her eyes scanning the damage. Wanda's eyes were rimmed with tears as she recognized your car and noticed the blood dripping out of the wreckage.

"Natasha," she let out a strangled sob as she looked at the redhead. "I know this isn't the time or the place, but I swear. that if I lose her, I will make your life hell." she gritted out between sobs, as she allowed her magic to fill up her emotions, her hands glowing red as she began to lift the vehicle the embankment.

Natasha nodded, not arguing with Wanda. She knew she deserved whatever the witch threw at her, and if it meant saving Y/N, she would take it. The car groaned and creaked as it moved through the air, the metal protesting against the invisible force lifting it. Natasha watched in amazement as Wanda managed to pull the car out of the tree, setting it down gently. She rushed to the driver's side, her heart in her throat.

Your body was slumped against the steering wheel, you were unconscious, but breathing.

Natasha's heart skipped a beat as she saw you, her eyes taking in the blood and the bruises that marred your face. She reached in through the shattered window, gently feeling for a pulse at your neck. It was there, steady and strong, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Hold on, Y/N," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We're here, love."

Wanda rushed to the other side of the car, her magic now aiding in the more delicate task of unbuckling your seatbelt and carefully moving you away from the wreckage. Together, they managed to get you out of the car and onto the cold ground. Wanda ripped off her jacket, wrapping it around your trembling body to stave off the cold.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Natasha said, her voice shaking as she assessed the extent of your injuries. Wanda nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. The ambulance pulled up just as Tony and Steve arrived, the Quinjet whirring down just up the road.

"What happened?" Tony called out, rushing over. Natasha could see the fear etched on his face, but she had no words to offer.

"Truck," Wanda managed to say pointing down the road, her voice a hoarse whisper. "It's bad."

Tony and Steve took in the scene, their expressions mirroring Natasha's and Wanda's fear. Without wasting another second, Tony called out to Clint on the Quinjet, "Get Dr. Cho on the line! Tell her we need medical assistance now!"

By now, the police, fire department, and more ambulances had arrived, assessing the scene.

Natasha couldn't move, her eyes never leaving you as the medical personnel rushed over, taking over the care. You were still unconscious, your breaths shallow and uneven. Wanda stood next to Natasha, her hands hovering over your body, trying to find any sign of life, any connection she could use to help you. But it was as if you had completely shut her out.

"Move aside," one of the paramedics said, gently pushing Natasha away. She stepped back, watching as they worked quickly and efficiently to stabilize you. They checked your vitals, applied pressure to the wound on your side, and carefully placed a neck brace around your neck. The sight of your bloodstained clothes and the bruises on your face made Natasha's stomach turn.

Wanda stood next to Natasha, her eyes never leaving your unconscious form. She clenched her fists, the fabric of her jacket around you, her mind racing with every possible way to help. "Go ahead, get in the ambulance with her," Natasha said, her voice strained with emotion. Wanda nodded, understanding the urgency in Natasha's voice. Wanda climbed into the van, Tony finding out what hospital they were taking you to.

Natasha remained outside, watching as the ambulance doors slammed shut and the vehicle sped away, lights flashing and sirens blaring. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Steve, his face etched with worry. "Let's get you to the hospital," he said, his grip firm but gentle. Natasha nodded, swiping at the tears that had started to fall.

Her car's engine roared to life, and Natasha climbed in opposite Steve, her thoughts racing. She had to fix this. She couldn't lose you like this, not when she had just realized how much you meant to her. As Steve took off, she leaned against the passenger door, the engine's vibrations echoing the tremors of fear and regret coursing through her body.

The drive to the hospital was a blur, a cacophony of sirens and flashing lights that seemed to stretch on forever. Natasha's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, her mind replaying the conversation with Wanda, the accusations, the truth behind her words. It was all so clear now; she had been blinded by her fear of vulnerability, pushing you away when you had only ever offered her warmth and understanding.

When they arrived, Natasha was out of the car before it even came to a complete stop. She sprinted through the hospital doors, the cool antiseptic air slapping her in the face like a cold truth she couldn't escape. Steve followed closely behind, his eyes filled with a silent promise that he would stand by her, no matter the outcome.

The chaos of the emergency room was a stark contrast to the quiet drive, and Natasha felt a new kind of panic set in as she approached the reception desk. The nurse looked up, her eyes scanning the blood and dirt on Natasha's clothes before she spoke. "Miss, can I help you?"

"Y/N, she was brought in by ambulance. Where is she?" Natasha's voice was shaky, her hand gripping the counter's edge.

The nurse's eyes softened as she recognized Natasha, "Room 12, we're doing everything we can.”

Natasha nodded, her legs moving on autopilot as she followed the signs pointing to the emergency department. She could feel Steve's presence behind her, a comforting weight in the sea of chaos that was her world right now. When they reached the room, the sight that greeted them was more than Natasha could handle.

You were surrounded by doctors and nurses, whose hands were covered in your blood as they worked to stop your bleeding. Natasha's eyes filled with horror as she took in the sight of you, so vulnerable and broken. Wanda stood in the corner, her hands shaking as she watched the medical staff fight to keep you alive. The sirens from outside were a muffled echo in the background as if they were in a different world entirely.

"Let's get her into surgery," one of the doctors called out, and Natasha felt her legs give out beneath her. Steve caught her before she hit the floor, his eyes never leaving yours. He whispered something in her ear, but she couldn't hear him over the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest. Steve guided her over to a chair, tears pouring down her face as she broke down. Wanda came over, a somber look on her face, tracks of dried tears evident on her cheeks.

"Tasha," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. "This isn't your fault, no one could have predicted this." Wanda's hand was cold, but the warmth of her concern was palpable.

But Natasha knew better. She knew that if she had just been honest if she had just allowed herself to love you openly, maybe you wouldn't have felt the need to run. Maybe you wouldn't be fighting for your life right now. "I need to be with her," Natasha choked out, her eyes pleading. Wanda sat next to Natasha, opening her arms for the redhead. "I'm so sorry, Wands." she sobbed, fisting Wanda's shirt as she sobbed into her shoulder.

The witch held her, her own eyes filled with tears. "It's not your fault, Natasha. It's just...fate." Wanda's voice was a mix of anger and sadness, but she knew it wasn't the time to place blame.

Natasha pulled away, wiping her eyes. "No, it's not fate. This is my fault! It's all my fucking fault, Wanda!” she shouted, not caring who heard her. The words were like knives in the air, cutting through the tension. Wanda squeezed Natasha tighter as sobs wracked her body. "If I had just-" she couldn't finish the sentence.

"Nat, no," Wanda cooed quietly, her own emotions beginning to show as the stoic Black Widow broke down in her arms. "It's not your fault," she whispered.

"I...I love her, Wands," Natasha sniffled. "And I hurt her so badly." Wanda squeezed her hand, her eyes brimming with understanding. "I should have never, ever made her feel like that. Like she wasn't enough. All I've wanted is her, for a long time. And you- you're her best friend, I'm so sorry, Wanda."

Wanda took a deep breath, her own heart breaking for Natasha. "I know you do," she whispered. "But she loves you too, Natasha. And she's stronger than anyone I know. She'll pull through this. Just, please, promise me one thing."

Natasha looked up, her eyes red and swollen. "Anything."

Wanda's voice was firm, "When she wakes up, you tell her. Tell her everything. No more hiding, no more games. You owe her that much. All she asks for is honest communication. And if you ever, ever have any doubt, talk to me. Please. Don't hurt her again." Natasha nodded, feeling the weight of Wanda's words sinking into her soul.

The two sat in silence, holding each other in the hallway as Steve and Tony paced in the background. The tension in the air was palpable, a stark contrast to the sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeps of hospital machines. Natasha felt the coldness of the floor beneath her as she leaned against Wanda, the weight of her guilt a heavy burden. They sat for what felt like hours, waiting for any sort of update.

Finally, a doctor emerged, his face a mask of professional calmness. "Miss Romanoff, Miss Maximoff," he said, looking at the two of them. "Your friend is stable, but she's sustained serious injuries. The surgery helped to stabilize her injuries, but she needs rest. We're taking her to her room now."

Natasha shot to her feet, her hand still in Wanda's grip. "Can we see her?" she asked, hope and fear fighting for dominance in her voice.

The doctor nodded solemnly. "For a brief moment. She's still in critical condition, and we need to monitor her closely.”

Natasha and Wanda followed the doctor down the hallway, their hearts pounding in unison with each step. The room was dimly lit, and the beeping of the machines was the only sound that filled the space. You lay there, your face bruised and your body connected to various tubes and monitors. The sight of you, so still and fragile, brought Natasha to her knees in the middle of the room, unable to get any closer to you. Wanda approached silently, rubbing the back of your hand slightly, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Steve and Tony stayed outside, looking in the window of your room at the scene before them.

"One of you can stay here," the doctor told them, his voice low and understanding, sensing the distress in the room. "But we need to keep the room as quiet as possible." He left them alone with you, and Natasha could feel the weight of the world on her shoulders as she took in the gravity of the situation.

Wanda looked at Natasha, her eyes filled with unspoken words. She squeezed Natasha's hand before letting go and walking out, leaving Natasha by your side. Natasha approached the bed, her eyes taking in every detail of your bruised and broken form. She reached out tentatively, her hand shaking as it hovered over yours, before finally making contact. Your skin was cold, but the warmth of Natasha's touch seemed to seep into you, giving Natasha a glimmer of hope.

“Mne ochen' zhal', moya lyubov'. Ya ne mogu izbavit'sya ot oshchushcheniya, budto ya eto sdelal, kak budto ya vrezalsya v tebya gruzovikom.” Nat whispered, her hand slipping into yours. The feel of your skin on hers calmed her down, as she silently began to cry.

You lay there, unresponsive but alive. The machines beeped in a steady rhythm, and Natasha felt a tiny squeeze in her hand. "You heard me?" she asked, hope blooming in her chest. Another squeeze, slightly stronger this time. "Oh, god. Y/N, baby."

Her eyes searched your face for any signs of consciousness. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering. Natasha leaned in closer, her voice a whisper, "Rest baby, you need your rest. I'm not going anywhere. We can talk when you're in better condition." The words felt heavy in her mouth, like a promise she wasn't sure she deserved to make. But she would keep it, she had to.

Wanda stepped back into the hallway, her eyes wide with hope. "Tony, Steve, she's okay!" she called out into the hallway, her voice carrying the relief she felt. The two men rushed towards the witch, their faces a mix of concern and hope. "Natasha is in there with her now, it's probably best to let Y/N rest for now," she told them, as they watched Natasha hold your hand against her forehead as she knelt next to your bed.

Tony nodded, his shoulders dropping slightly. "Good, keep us updated," he said before leading Steve to the waiting room. Wanda followed behind, feeling a sense of relief that you were ok. Natasha remained at your side, her grip on your hand tightening slightly with every shallow breath you took. She rose, going to the chair in the corner, reclining the seat so she could watch and rest with you within arms reach.

The night was long and painful, filled with Natasha's silent vows to never let you go through this again. She watched as the nurses checked on you, the beeping of the machines the only consistent sound in the quiet room. Every time your hand twitched or your eyelids fluttered, Natasha was there, whispering comforting words, hoping they'd reach you.

As dawn began to break through the windows, the first rays of light touched your pale skin, and you opened your eyes, groaning in pain. Your eyes darted around the room, coming to rest on the redhead who had not gotten a restful sleep, her disheveled state in the chair by your bedside endearing, yet heartbreaking to see. Natasha's eyes shot open, her hand squeezing yours with a sudden jolt of hope.

"Y/N," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the hours of silent vigil. "You're awake."

You blinked, the pain in your head making everything feel fuzzy and far away. "Tasha?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha leaned over the bed, her eyes brimming with tears of relief. "Yes, love, it's me." She took your hand in hers, her thumb gently caressing your knuckles. "You're okay, you're going to be okay."

A pained expression crossed her face when you pulled your hand away from hers abruptly. The memory of what led up to your accident flashes through your mind. "I... I can't," you whispered, the words feeling like shards of glass in your throat.

Natasha felt the blood drain from her face as she watched you push her away. She knew that look, the look of hurt and betrayal. "Y/N, please, let me explain," she begged, her voice cracking. But you were already shaking your head, the effort causing you to wince.

"No," you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. "You had your chance."

Natasha shook her head, rising quickly to kneel next to your bed. "Krasivaya devushka," she started. "Please, let me talk. Let me say my piece, and if you still feel the same, I will leave you alone. But please, let me tell you something first."

You studied her, the pain in your chest not just from your injuries but from the raw emotion in Natasha's voice. You nodded weakly, giving her the opening she desperately needed. She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving yours. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she began, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I've been scared, Y/N. Scared of letting anyone in, scared of losing control. But you...you've never been like anyone else. I have always watched you from the shadows and observed how you treated everyone else. You have a heart of gold, and I was afraid that if I admitted my feelings, I would only end up tarnishing it."

Your gaze softened as she continued. "But when you told me you had feelings for me, I was terrified that someone felt the same way I did about them. I couldn't hide anymore. I love you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I could love anyone. And I'm sorry it took me so long to say it, and even longer to truly understand it." She paused, her thumb gently wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye. "Those things I said, I said out of fear. Fear of my feelings, fear of hurting you, and fear that someone else would see my weakness. Please, let me make this right."

You took a shaky breath, the pain in your chest not just from your injuries but from the ache of Natasha's words. "What...what do you mean?" you managed to ask, your voice a mere whisper.

Natasha looked into your eyes, the depth of her regret and love clear. "I mean that from the moment I met you, I knew you were different. You saw through the walls I've built, you made me laugh, you made me feel...human. And I was scared. I've lost so much, I didn't want to lose you too. So, I pushed you away, hoping that if I didn't let you in, I wouldn't get hurt. But all I did was hurt you, and I'm so sorry." Her eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of forgiveness.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, the pain of the past hours mixing with the pain of Natasha's confession. "But why now?" you whispered, your voice frail. "Why tell me this when I'm like this, after what happened?"

She let out a deep, watery sigh before continuing. "Malysh, that is my fault. I should have never, ever let it get this far. That night, I felt so much emotion with you. But I kept quiet. I should have told you everything, all of how I felt. I'm so sorry."

You stared at Natasha, her words weighing heavily on your mind. The pain from your injuries was intense, but the emotional turmoil was almost unbearable. You felt torn between your anger and the love you had for her. "I don't know what to say," you murmured, your voice cracking.

Natasha reached out, her hand hovering over your cheek, but she didn't dare touch you, not yet. "You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "I just needed you to know. To understand. I'm not asking for anything in return. I just... I had to tell you."

For a moment, you didn't say anything, just stared into Natasha's eyes, searching for the truth in her words. The silence stretched out between you, filled with the steady beep of the heart monitor and the sound of your shallow breathing. Then, with a sigh, you reached up and took her hand, bringing it to your face. "I love you too, Natasha," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't... I can't just ignore what you said."

Natasha's eyes filled with a mix of hope and pain. "I know," she murmured, her thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "I don't expect you to. I just... I couldn't let you think I didn't care."

You nodded slightly, the movement causing your head to throb. "It's a lot to take in," you admitted, your eyes drooping with exhaustion. "I need time to process."

Natasha's heart sank, but she nodded, understanding. "Of course, malysh. Take all the time you need. I'll be here, whenever you're ready." She leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of her lips against your skin sending a shiver down your spine despite the coldness of the hospital room. She turned to walk out of the room, a distant look in her eyes.

"Tash?" you whispered.

Natasha stopped at the door, her hand lingering on the handle. She looked back at you, the hope in your voice resonating through the room. "Yes, baby?"

"Stay."

The word was a mere breath, but it hung in the air like a lifeline thrown to Natasha. She turned back, her eyes searching yours for any sign of what you truly meant.

"Please," you whispered, your voice still weak but filled with a desperation Natasha hadn't heard before. "I don't want to be alone right now."

Natasha's eyes searched yours for any sign of doubt, but all she saw was pain and longing. She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips as she returned to the chair beside your bed. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised, taking your hand in hers once more. The warmth of your skin was a balm to her shattered soul, a silent confirmation that she hadn't lost you completely.

“Kak ty smeyesh' obrashchat'sya s ney tak, budto ona vsego lish' yeshche odno iz tvoikh zavoyevaniy!”

“How dare you treat her like she's just another one of your conquests!”

“Mne ochen' zhal', moya lyubov'. Ya ne mogu izbavit'sya ot oshchushcheniya, budto ya eto sdelal, kak budto ya vrezalsya v tebya gruzovikom.”

“I'm sorry, my love. I can't help but feel like I did it- like I hit you with that truck.”

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