#but damn my fucking nostrils have dry Shit in them

[genderqueer-karma]

i’ve got all this breathing in my mouth and none in my nose (my throat is so dry)

[joeloverture]

deadfall | enemy!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: dad’s enemy!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel miller, rival raiders with your father, is the last person you expect to save you from the group that captured you. he’s also the last person you expect to sleep with. [post outbreak] warnings: (mdni) canon typical violence (stalkers, mentions of death), porn with plot, game or tv joel, reader born before the outbreak, reader has a present/loving father figure (HAH), alternate universe — joel never went to boston, implied age gap but how big is up to you, self indulgent humor, quicksand, explicit smut, reader is a biiiit of a peeping tom, close proximity, only one bed, (brief) accidental somnophilia so dubcon, dry humping, degradation, humiliation, mirror sex, unprotected piv (he’s snipped dw), doggy style, manhandling (he fucks you in a headlock), mild breath play & choking, brief hair pulling (reader has hair!), scratching/biting, brief orgasm denial, hatefuck [no use of y/n] word count: 9.5k author's note: pwplot! a joeloverture first. also my first foray into somno! and post!ob joel! lots of firsts here. special thanks to @joelsdagger for taking a glimpse at this for me (and for being the PIONEER that forged joel fucking in a headlock) and @lovesickonmybed for being the best sounding board ever. i hope y'all like this one, i sure do.

There are no infected in the swamp — not this far out. They prefer the slant of buildings or the maw of split pavement. Blood-bloated leeches and black-trunked cypresses aren’t their domain.

You can’t say you blame them. One day in, and you’re already sick of this shit.

A few gnats have flown up your nostrils as you wade through the ankle-deep sludge. Mist curls at the edges of your vision. Your feet keep slipping on the slime covered stones that are half-submerged in the deep. Sweat crystallizes on your nape as your toe catches on a downed branch.

Before you faceplant in the sludge below, a burly hand snags your collar and hauls you up. “You always this much of a klutz?” It’s the first few words he’s said to you in hours.

A scowl buckles your lips. You shove Joel Miller’s arm off your back, splashing up scummy water as you step over the branch this time. You say nothing — don’t even dignify him with a passing glance.

“You’re a real peach, ain’t ya?” Joel says. When he takes his next step, water splashes at the backs of your calves. “Save your ass and this is the thanks I get.”

Joel Miller doesn’t want thanks. Up until he accidentally burnt his thumb with boiling hot coffee yesterday, you’d been convinced he didn’t feel anything at all. As long as his pulse is woven between bullets and stab wounds, he doesn’t give a damn what happens to those around him. His heart, much like the rest of the people at the end of the world, is calcified. Only beating out of necessity.

You’re silent as you footslog forward. The slurp of mud stretches between your shoe and the ground. Your pack jostles against your back. The ache in your bones has proven to be a better company than Joel – at least that is tolerable.

A deadfall lays flat ahead, a tree with cambered branches that droop with moss. Joel cups a hand over his eyes to block out the sun and squints past.

You go to walk past him, around the deadfall.

“Nuh uh,” Joel tugs you back by the scruff. You grunt. “‘S deeper out there. I’d sure like to see you get swallowed up by a gator, but that doesn’t work for me, kid.”

It sure works for you. If you see one of their bumpy snouts protruding out of the water, you’re using him as bait.

You don’t say that, though. Just hitch your foot up over one of the branches in the tree and start to haul yourself up. It’s a nagging ordeal – full of hissing through your teeth and feeling wood tear small cuts into your skin. Your hand tangles in an unoccupied spiderweb before you toss yourself through the other side of the bramble. Water sluices around you as you right yourself, rubbing a bead of blood from one of your knuckles.

Joel’s quick to follow, even quicker to take front again. You’ve learned he likes being ahead of you — unless you’re climbing a ledge or a fallen oak.

The hours wear on. You refuse to be the first to call it for the day. Even when you get stinging salt water into your open cuts, you grin and bear it. When the sun lounges on the chaise of the tree-sketch horizon, he drops his pack on an island of mulch that’s nestled in a grove of dead vegetation. 

You slump down next to him, rifling through your pack for a bite of jerky. Joel’s knees pop. He grunts as he slips down into the dirt and unrolls his sleeping bag. He rolls over, facing away from you. Hand wrapped around his gun like it’s a lover. 

When you do the same, it’s with a barbed insult on your tongue that’s better left unspoken.

At the end of the world, everything is ruleless. But you grew up with exactly one rule: don’t talk about Joel Miller.

You hadn’t been expecting him to kill you.

The Cockroaches, the lesser raider group in Northeast Texas, had captured you. Apparently your dad had some unpaid debts, and in taking you as leverage, they’d intended to get close to him. All they got were bullets in their heads.

You’d sighed in relief when the hatch to your basement confinement had finally opened. A spillage of sun sliced down through the opening, and you were expecting the familiar warmth of your father, an apology, and reassurance that he wouldn’t let them take you again.

Instead, you got Joel. With his hulking gun, broad figure that blocked out the sun, and the scowl that would be the last thing you’d ever see.

You had fumbled against the post you were tied to, feet scrabbling against the floor. You’d winced away when he raised his knife. “Don’t–”

…And cut into your restraints.

You’d rubbed the chafing from your wrists and stared at him, nebulous and delirious. “Get the fuck away from me,” you’d croaked.

“They touch you?” he’d asked. You’d shaken your head. “Hurt ya?” Another shake.

“Good. Now get up and get ready to haul ass.” He turned around, but not before throwing his knife to the ground next to you. The clatter it made against the concrete made your ears ring.

You grabbed the knife.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask him. They’re the only words you’ve spoken since you’d seen him in the cellar. 

“I ain’t,” he says. His voice is gruff. Sandpapery. 

“Looks like helping,” you say, nodding at the pack he’d given you. He’d come out prepared. To get you.

“Your daddy ain’t the only one with debts,” he says.

You stop, booted feet sinking into the mud. Shit. “So that’s what this is. You take me away just to hand me off to some other shitty group?”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. He turns around, already mid-stride.

You yank his knife out of your pocket and dive at him.

“Hey, hey, fuck – you little brat,” he spats. He goes off balance before he twists around. You corral him against a tree, leg hitching around his waist as you knee at his thighs, aiming for his crotch. His spittle sprays your cheek as he grunts. His fist wraps around your hand, and the knife splats into the mud. His booted heel slips and he goes sliding back as he shoves you away, hard. You cough as you slam into a tree trunk. The knot that swells out of the bark digs into your head. You drag a branch up off the ground, pushing yourself off the tree as you heft it.

Before you grab it, he slaps you. Hard. Your head goes spinning as you stumble back into the muck. He jams his boot down against your chest, mud smearing across your tank top. “I gotta tie you up, or you gonna fuckin’ listen to me?”

You reach up to grab his ankle, and he just stomps harder against your chest. You wheeze, flopping back in the sludge. “B-bastard,” you hiss.

“Yeah, yeah, shut the hell up. ‘S your dad’s shitty group I’m talkin’ about.”

You give him an incredulous look.

“Your old man ain’t the only one with a coupla debts under his belt.”

“You’re shitting me,” you say. Voice squished in your throat from his tread against your chest.

He shakes his head and finally lets his boot up. You suck in a breath, another cough rattling your ribcage. “Quit being all uppity and pickin’ fights ya can’t win if you wanna learn, dumbass.”

“Why didn’t he just come get me himself?” you grit out as you lean back against a log. You use it to lift yourself, legs feeling gelatinous from being shoved about.

“You didn’t see? Cockroach shot ‘im in the leg.” Your lips tremble, but you straighten them. “He’s fine.”

You scowl. “And you didn’t tell me this sooner?” You march forward. Your arms cross solidly over your chest.

“Figured you wouldn’t take it well.” He looks you up and down. “And I was right.”

You curse under your breath. Dip to grab your knife. Toss it in your hand while you think. You don’t flinch when it slightly nicks your thumb — it’s hardly a poke with all of the scraping you’ve been doing through undergrowth — but Joel smirks. 

He sees you as juvenile. The product of a world that you haven’t earned the right to be in, always cowering behind your dad’s back. 

You’ll prove him wrong.

“How far are we from the nearest city?” you ask. You want to go home. Your arms ache not just from swinging at your side or lifting you up toppled trees, but to wrap around your father. Your bones protest at the thought of being in your skin. Your tank top sticks to your flesh with mud and the parasites that squirm in it.

“I’m not a goddamn fortune teller,” Joel says. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Then we better get moving.” You readjust your pack and jostle him as you march on.

Three days later, and there’s no end in sight to the swamp. Whatever towns you’ve encountered are home to only a derelict gas station and ransacked mom-and-pop stores. They’re no place for pit stops.

You (reluctantly) stay close to Joel, who you’re lucky to hear so much as a murmur out of. Most of the time, he’s redirecting you, tugging you out of the way of half-decade old hunter’s traps or reminding you not to go too far.

“The world isn’t gonna end if I step out of your imaginary line, Joel,” you say. You test your foot on the side of the bank you’re walking on. Nothing happens.

“Ki–” Joel says, brows crunched up.

“See? Fine.” You press more of your weight into the ground. He reaches for you, but your body tilts.

Your foot is sinking.

“You’re a fuckin’ pain in my ass,” Joel says. He pinches his nose bridge. “Shoulda left ya down there.”

You glare at him, bending yourself at the waist so you can try to wiggle yourself with your upper body strength. Your free knee is propped up on the squishy ground. You grunt, palms slipping against the oily, grass-filled mud. “I got it,” you rasp out as he crouches in front of you.

“Uh huh,” he says, frowning pointedly.

“I got it.” You slap his hand away and thresh your leg in the sand. It barely even wiggles. “Fuck.” You strain your leg, huffing and puffing. Dirt fixes itself under your nails.

Joel wraps his arms under your shoulders and you flail in protest. “I said I can handle it!” Instead of listening to you, he tugs at you like pulling a toy from a dog. You keep windmilling your arms.

“Quit thrashin’!” Joel yells. “Any harder and you’re gonna drag me in with you.”

Your face is too close to his. Too close for the uncomfortable heat. His humid breath fans against your sweat-slippery cheek as he groans. Your foot loosens. You prop your calf up on his thigh as he wrests you out of the quicksand. You’re chest-to-chest with him as you tip over the muck, dropping flat against him. “Mmph.”

Joel shoves you off of him, and you fall on your ass in the mud. By all odds, your boot has remained strapped to your foot. He’s already up and moving when he says, “Jesus Christ, you are just like your fuckin’ dad.”

The mud still caked into your shirt has started to flake by the time you reach a city called Monroe. Just off of I-20, you and Joel trek further into what you imagine must’ve been a medium-sized city during its heyday.

You’re bone-weary. Your back keeps popping with every step with how you keep having to sleep on the ground. You’d be thankful for even a mattress of moss — but luckily, you won’t have to settle. Sunset is nearing, which means you can see the blue water (imagine that, blue water) tainted pink and orange below. Houses and the city clocktower reflect into the gentle pull and ebb of the tide.

Joel nods at a half-bent blue roadway sign. “YMCA up ahead,” he says. He wipes the sweat off his brow and clutches his gun closer to his side. “Stay close.”

You keep your hand around the grip of your knife, following him into the city.

It’s quiet as you navigate through a labyrinth of abandoned, rust-gutted cars. At one point, you manage to slip ahead of him, and he allows it for long enough (fifteen seconds) that you opt to take a shortcut through a parking garage. You climb over the edge and dip inside, feet scraping over roots that have grown between concrete slabs. The shade is a brief respite from the scorching sun, but the humidity still wrings the sweat from your pores.

Joel slips ahead of you again, taking long, dragging strides that look as exhausted as you feel. Four days of hiking through swamp and gunk and slapping mosquitoes against your skin has made you grateful to just be walking on solid ground again. Joel steps past a busted, sticker-covered van.

A streak flickers against the dark canopy of the garage. “Infected!” you shout, but Joel falls back on his ass.

His gun flies out of his hand and skids across the concrete. He grunts, shuffling backward, but the stalker’s already on him, its mouth sewn partially shut by fungi. It croaks and slashes at him, blind left eye battering and twitching. Joel throws a hooked punch, but the stalker takes the opportunity to grapple him, snarling in his face.

He’s going to get bit.

You launch forward, knife in-hand. You fling yourself into a tumble with the stalker, legs strewn over Joel’s. Adrenaline plummets through your body. You stomp on its shin and it shrieks. The knife almost slips from your grip as you start to stab blindly. You thrust the blade up through its eye socket.

The thing cackles and caws, its vocal chords clacking with mold and rot. Rusted blood trickles from its nose and down your wrist as you twist the blade further until you meet bone and then whatever is left of a brain is beyond it. You cringe as you drag the knife out and wipe it across your pants. It slumps back in a mound and then falls over.

Your chest heaves as you look between Joel and the stalker. His hands are scraped up as he grabs his gun.

You extend him a hand. He seems to think about it for a second before latching onto you and letting you help him up. He grunts in acknowledgment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

This YMCA in particular isn’t like the others you’ve stopped at with your dad. Instead of glass windows and tin roofs, it’s brick and mortar. You and Joel climb in through the window, and you almost sob in relief when you see at least a dozen oversized yoga mats. That’s a suitable homemade mattress, you think. 

There’s a basketball court whose court has been warped and fossilized by the leaks in the roof. A peek of sunset dives in through a hole, lighting up the western side of the room. You expect the pool room to still smell of chlorine. It’s a little weird when it doesn’t even though the pool’s been drained for years, you imagine. From there, you two reach the showers.

Before you let yourself get excited, Joel fiddles with the knobs. Water sprays out of it. “Still hot,” he says, absorbed in the droplets that are spraying his hand. He turns it off.

“Fuck it,” you say, tearing your tank top over your head.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Joel says, turning to face the wall.

“You aren’t the one who’s covered in mud!”

“Yeah, you’re right, I ain’t the one who went jumpin’ into quicksand. I also ain’t the one who deserved an ass whooping.”

You glare at his shoulder blades as you unzip your jeans, fumbling out of them. They’re nearly crunchy with the amount of mud you’ve been traipsing through. “They did charity drives at these things, right?” You never really went to any YMCAs before the world went to shit. “Maybe they’ve got clean clothes.”

“Maybe,” Joel says. “Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you turned this place into a strip club.” You roll your eyes and hook your bra on the shower curtain, followed by your panties.

“I didn’t know you were a prude, Miller,” you say.

He bristles at the accusation. “Maybe I should get an eyeful. Being ‘round you is like wishin’ the Lord would strike me down.”

You laugh. Joel made you laugh. First (and only) time, probably. 

“Yeah, right, you’d get struck down for something a whole lot worse before he started getting mad at you for peeping.”

You fiddle with the shower curtain and step in. There’s old body wash in an automatic dispenser on the wall. It doesn’t work, but it’s easy to wrangle open and squeeze the pouch into your hand. The grout is odd under your bare feet, but quickly becomes familiar as you twist the lever. Water spits down at you, and a satisfied sound leaves you. “Fuuuck,” you sigh. “This is nice.”

Joel clears his throat. “I’m gonna go look for clothes. And deodorant.”

“You should shower too,” you say instead.

You can almost hear the face he makes.

“God, don’t be so much of a Holy Joe, Joel. It’s practical. This water isn’t going to last that damn long, and I am not taking a cold shower when the hot stuff is all right here.”

“You’re a real pain in the ass,” he says like he hasn’t already told you.

Eventually, you hear his belt unbuckle.

He strips down a lot quicker than you. Habit, maybe, you think. His jeans slump against the floor, and then he’s in the shower. You hear the other faucet come on as the water warms against your skin. You sigh, lathering yourself with the Dollar General body wash. It forms iridescent bubbles along your body, and it smells faintly like artificial strawberries. You wonder if it ever used to smell stronger than this.

There’s a slit in Joel’s shower that exists between the curtain and the wall. You should look away, but you shouldn’t have plunged your foot into quicksand, either. There’s many things you shouldn’t do that you take it upon yourself to do anyway.

So you watch the dirty water cascade down his sharp, scarred shoulder. You eye how the gnarl of his bone adjusts as he lathers himself with soapsuds. He stretches to get his hair and his bicep tenses with the movement. He’s built, and built well. From years of survival, trekking through swamps not so different from these, and aiming guns in places he wanted to and places he didn’t. The way the sun flits through the rectangular windows makes him look golden.

You imagine how it’d feel to walk up behind him, to massage the knots out of his sore muscles. You don’t even notice it, but your hands are traveling your own body now, fingertips going to pluck at your pebbled nipples. He’d been rough when tussling with you in the swamp. Would he be rough with you in bed, too? In your mind, you run soft, open-mouthed kisses down his back, reaching your hand between his legs to wrap around his—

A clanging noise stops your hand in its tracks. You drop it limp at your side. A wave of revulsion crawls like insects up your back.

“Shit!” Joel says, fumbling around in his shower stall.

The plastic body wash dispenser goes sliding out under the curtain, foamy with soapsuds.

You can’t help it. You snort. And eventually, your snort becomes full-fledged laughter, breaking the seam of your lips as you lean against the wall of the shower.

“Shut up,” he says, but you hear the tinge of a chuckle embedded between his vowels. You hear his half-huff of laughter before you force yourself to stop giggling.

You two stay under the shower streams until the water runs cold and bitter and all of the mud that had banded around your limbs is congealed in the drain. 

You leave the showers first, roaming around until you find a discarded cardboard box that’s brimming with clothes in your size. There’s jeans that should do well in the elements and another tank top suited for the crushing heat. 

When you’re dressed, you call out to Joel that you’ll be in the yoga room. You spend the down time arranging the yoga mats into two separate mattresses. Joel’s feet will hang off a bit, but you imagine it’ll be better than sleeping on the floor.

Footsteps scrape from the doorway, and your head snaps up.

Joel Miller cleans up nice, it seems. He’s kept his boots, but apart from that, looks like a completely different person; his jeans now hug his hips tighter, his raggedy tee from earlier has been replaced with a form-fitting ribbed tank top. Any traces of mud, sweat, or gunk have been washed off his skin and down the drain. His hair hangs in wet stripes, sticking to his crinkled forehead.

You haven’t realized you’ve zone out until he’s waving a calloused hand in front of your face. “Hey, peach, anyone home?”

You clear your throat and replace it with a scowl. “Don’t call me that.” It’s deflection, and you know it. You think he knows it, too.

He gives you a funny look. “Uh huh,” he says. He taps his fingers along his hip bone. “Well, what the fuck are ya doin’?”

You furrow your brows at him. “Setting up camp…?”

“This is a shit camp to set up,” he says. “Stalkers in the parking garage, city I ain’t ever been in before? No, we need a vantage point.”

“And I assume you have one in mind?” you ask.

“Yeah, I do. ‘S a hotel, ‘lil further into town. Got three floors, we probably can block the stairwell from the inside to keep any raiders out.”

You nod and heft your backpack over your shoulder. It’s bulging from the extra clothes you’d stuffed into the bottom, and your arms are sore from the wrangling you’d given it after the collar of one of your new shirts jammed the zipper. 

Joel turns to stand guard at the door while you collect your stuff. You can’t seem to focus much on that, though, not with his ass practically at your eye level. The tighter denim definitely does him favors. You swallow the newfound lump in your throat and stuff your water flash into the side of your pack.

It has to be the lack of human connection. It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen anyone other than your captors, and the majority of this week since you’ve seen anyone other than Joel. Joel, who with every word, breath, movement, flinch, gets a rise out of you. Joel, who stirs the pot with you at every chance he gets. Joel, who almost certainly looks at you and sees a reflection of your father whom he hates.

He’d said so, early on.

This isn’t only one-sided. It’s a living, breathing disaster.

“‘S a hotel’ my ass, Joel, this place looks like a loaf of moldy bread.”

Joel insists on staying on the third floor. Says that the second floor is ‘too low’ and that being on the third floor poses a good choke point for any raiders or infected who might stumble upon your camp. He wants to ‘bottleneck’ any intruders, whatever the fuck that means.

The issue with the third floor? There’s mold. Everywhere. In the days after the outbreak, a leak must’ve happened somewhere in the pipes that bled through the ceiling and all over the top floor. None of the rooms you’ve checked have been left unscathed so far. It’s embedded into the rugs, the walls, the ceiling, all of it. At least it’s a good deterrent for the people that pass through. The infected, however? You have a feeling they’d be just at home.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” he says through his teeth. He pinches his nose bridge – he does that a lot, or maybe you just stress him out a lot – and glares at you.

“No, Joel. I’m fucking exhausted,” you hiss. “I’ve been roughing it with you all week, all you do is give me shit. The only thing this voyage of ours has taught me is that my dad has perfectly ample reason to hate your guts.” You’re closer to him now, knocking him back with your fist to your chest.

“Quit bein’ cute,” he scowls. “I’m the only reason your ass isn’t eyeball-deep in quicksand.”

“Yeah, and you’d be stalker food without me. So I guess we’re even, aren’t we, Joel?” You shove past him. “I’m just a way for you to pay off your stupid ‘debts’ anyway,” you mutter under your breath. He wasn’t protecting you, pulling you out of that damn pit. He was saving his own skin.

The hotel room door at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar. You lift your knife just in case, and step inside. 

It’s lacking the mold that the rest of the rooms have. People have definitely stayed in here before, what with the rumpled blankets left on the bed and a flashlight situated upright on the dresser. The thick layer of dust on the flashlight tells you that they never came back.

The room itself is satisfactory enough. Beige, almost green walls, close in at all sides. A cloudy mirror is hung by the window. Moonlight stipples the room. There’s a busted, corded phone on the nightstand that’s propped up on a Bible, a shattered nightlight, and a small table. You toss your pack onto the quilted bedspread and collapse onto the mattress. For an old, creaking thing with a busted spring or two, it’s still the most comfortable thing you think you’ve ever felt in your life. You sigh in relief and nuzzle into the pillow.

Joel clears his throat from the doorway.

“Find your own room, dipshit,” you say, nudging your pack off your bed with your knee. It thunks against the floor.

“I don’t think so.” He crosses his arms.

“I’m not sharing with you. You snore.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do.”

You don’t have to look up to know he’s doing that thing where he pinches his nose bridge again. “You’re a fuckin’ piece ‘a work, kid, you know that?” You hear his pack drop against the ground. He drags a chair across the room and you cringe at how it squeals against the floor until he jams it under the doorknob. Then, the mattress dips.

You look at him sideways. “Get off my bed.”

“‘Your’ bed? You just discovered it two seconds ago.”

“Finders keepers.”

“Well I’m takin’ it from you. Losers weepers.”

You grit your teeth so hard you hear the bone scraping bone in your ears. 

“That’s now how this works–”

“We’re even now. You don’t wanna owe me one, and I sure as hell don’t wanna owe you one. So roll your ass over, act like an adult, and go to bed.”

You grouse under your breath, but with Joel, you have to pick and choose your battles. So you roll back over and wiggle yourself under the quilt, tucking your face into the musty pillow underneath you.

You sit in silence for a couple of minutes, staring at how the moon spills milky light along the alabaster ceiling. Then, you roll over again, stretching out the knicks in your back. Despite being the comfiest you’ve been in days, you’re feeling restless. You know Joel wouldn’t hurt you in any substantial way – you’re a bargaining chip to him. Nothing less, and certainly not anything more.

In spite of that, you find yourself drifting off with your face to him.

When Joel first wakes up, he thinks a clicker’s gnawing at his leg

Blinking the crust from his eyes, he realizes nothing’s gnawing on him at all. 

Rather, it’s you.

In your sleep, you’ve thrown your leg over his thigh. Your crotch is angled up against the bulk of his leg, a furnace that sears him through his jeans. Your head has dipped, forehead overheated and angled against the crux of his neck. If it were just that, he’d roll you over (maybe hard enough for you to crash on the floor) and hog the blankets for himself.

But you’re thrusting your fucking hips into him, letting out sleepy little whimpers while you fuck yourself on his leg. That explains why you’ve been acting dumber than a box of rocks. He oughta tan your hide for this. Bitching at him all week and really, you just need to get dicked down. Ironic, ain’t it.

He should still shove you off the bed. Call you a whore and leave you to rub your pussy raw in the bathroom instead of on his leg.

You give a particularly hard thrust, a keening little sound catching in the netting of your teeth. He swears you’re soaking through the denim.

He bites his tongue. The moonlight accentuates your closed eyes, your lashes fan out across your cheeks, there’s a cute little pinch in your lips as you unwittingly try to muffle the sounds coming out of you.

He can’t help himself. He raises his knuckles to your cheek and taps, taps, taps at the bone until your eyes startle open.

When you first wake up, you think you’re dying.

There’s a shortness of breath in your lungs. You feel like you’re being burned alive, your skin hot to the touch. You’re mummified in the crusty, flaky hotel sheets. Each intake of breath is musty and clings to your nostrils. You’re throbbing. Between the legs and elsewhere. Confusion puckers your brows. There’s slick between your legs — and Joel’s leg between your legs.

You tear away from him, making a disgruntled noise as the sheets tangle around your legs. His hand is raised to your face. There’s a moment where all you register is the judgmental squint in his dark eyes.

“What the fuck– you pervert,” you hiss, slapping him across the chest. A queasiness squiggles in your stomach as you inch your way back.

“Oh, no, peach. That was all you,” he drawls. He wraps his thick hand around your hipbone and pulls you back. You kick him in the shin, but there’s no real force behind it.

“Y-you’re lying,” you snarl. But a brief look at his lap tells you he’s not. He’s barely touting a semi, yet you’ve got the entire Mississippi River in your YMCA-issued panties.

Joel shakes his head at you. “‘S why you been actin’ up, you little shit? Just needed to get fucked?” He grips your hip so hard that it stings and hauls you against him. You tell yourself that the moan you let out is more of a hiss.

“I don’t– you’re making shit up, old man,” you say, squirming in his grip. You can’t help the way your hips sway at the tease of friction his knee gives you. You feel lightheaded, a freshly kindled bonfire.

“Am I?” Another squeeze to your hip. “Don’t look like it.” He notches his knee tighter against your swollen cunt, and your head dips forward as you bite into your lower lip. “Look’s like I’ve got a ‘lil slut more worked up than a hornets’ nest that spent all night rubbing her needy fuckin’ pussy on my leg.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine.

“Jus’ say the word, peach. I’ll do ya real good. Make that ache go away.” He rubs his thumb in a circle along your skin. The calloused pad of his thumb slips underneath the hem of your tank top, a lit match dragging along your skin.

“I don’t think you have it in you, Miller,” you say. But your voice gives you away. It’s breathy, coarsened by your sleep-stained, lust-stained rasp.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t think you had it in you to be humpin’ this ‘old man’s’ leg, but ya learn something new everyday.” He doesn’t grind his knee into your cunt — more so wedges it up. Pain blurs a watercolor line with pleasure as your back arches. His hand drifts from your midriff to your thigh, arm hooking around it so he can heft you up against his thigh proper. You grunt as you end up chest to chest with him. Your hips rock into his, guided by the North Star of his hands clutching at your hips. “Can feel ya,” he says. “Drippin’ all over me.”

You grind your teeth, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He groans as your nails claw at the skin there. “Shut the fuck up so I can pretend you’re someone else.”

He chuckles. “You can play pretend all you want, but I’m the one you’re soaking, ain’t I?”

You make an aggravated sound. Your left hand drags down his arm, leaving angry red tracks in their wake. Before he can gripe about it, you slap your right hand over his mouth. His eyes flare. Eye for an eye, his teeth sink into the flesh of your palm. You hiss at the sting. It only makes you pump your hips against him faster. The friction of your shorts and panties against the bulk of his leg and the wrinkle of his denim jeans makes your clit twitch against him.

Your flesh stretches as you tug it from his teeth. Your hand plants itself in his hair instead, dragging his head to the side. His eyes flutter, lidded and dark. “Don’t act like you don’t damn near cream yourself when I talk to you like this. You like being told what a nasty. Fuckin’. Slut. You are. Don’t look at me like that. You are. Been cruisin’ for a bruisin’ this whole time — just didn’t know you were after a pussy beating instead of a real one.”

Your eyes roll back. Your hips roll more languidly, only jerking when Joel gives a particularly brutal tug at your waist. You let out a pathetic moan into his neck. You nip at the skin there, tongue laving over the scars and blemishes he’s collected over the years. He reaches down and grabs a handful of your ass, groaning. “Too pretty to be actin’ a fool, baby.”

You dig your teeth into his neck, hard enough to leave cavernous bite marks in your wake. Your tongue digs through the craters your teeth left behind, saliva pulling from your lips to his skin. He smacks your ass hard enough for your hips to jerk, and you almost glare at him as you separate from your throat. Instead, your eyes squeeze shut.

“Don’t wanna look at me, do ya peach? Mmmm, well thas’ okay.” He fists his hand in the roots of your hair and tugs your head to the side. You hear Joel groping at the nightstand in the dark, and then the flashlight ticks on.

Your eyes blink open to yourself reflected in desilvered glass. Mirror rot surrounds your luminescent face, but most of all, you can see your hips and how they rock shallowly into Joel’s leg. “Watch yourself fuckin’ yourself stupid on my leg,” he croons in your ear. When you go still, his thumbs press hard into your skin. You stare at him. “You already fucked yourself stupid or somethin’? ‘S a simple instruction, sweet cheeks.”

“That’s dumb, Joel–” you sneer, going to look away.

He jerks your head back to where he had it and rocks his leg into your clit. You watch your face contort around a ragged moan. Pleasure thrashes through your system. “C’mon, you’re a dirty girl. Watch how pathetic you look while you get yourself off. Pretend I’m your pillow if you have to, but it ain’t gonna change how I’m the one gettin’ you off like this.”

Your thighs clamp around his. He smirks at you in the mirror. Your knee grazes his bulge, and a breathy moan loosens from his lips. “Two way street, Miller,” you say. But you’re weak — and so, so wet.

You give your hips a languid roll, watching yourself in the mirror. You’re a mess, mouth parted, eyes lidded, skin slick with sweat. Your hips shudder and start against him as you start to properly buck yourself against the meat of his thigh. With the shelves of your teeth, you try to smother the depraved noises coming out of you. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Gonna wake the fuckin’ dead with all that whining of yours.” Mid-moan, Joel shoves two fingers into your mouth and pries your jaw open. His fingers are bulky and ridged with callouses against your tongue. His thumb presses a dent into your jaw. “‘S okay, baby. I like ‘em loud.”

“I like you shutting the fuck up,” you say around a mouthful of his knuckles. You can’t help it. You bite at his fingers, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to sting. He hisses and presses down on your tongue. You make a sputtering noise.

“You were sayin’?” he asks, tensing his thigh. You whimper against his fingertips. He tightens his grip on your hair, and in the mirror, you see yourself bared raw for him to see in all ways but the physical. You rut into his leg with increasing need.

“Mmmph, Joel–” you say around his fingers. 

“Oh, now you’re moaning my name? What was it I said? Cruisin’ for a bruisin’, peach.”

Wetness leaks down the insides of your thighs. Your swollen clit hitches on a wrinkle in his jeans. You’re shaking, thighs trembling where they’re wrapped around him. Your fingers grapple for purchase and find some anchored in his hair, tugging wildly. You eye yourself in that damn mirror, the way your chest is slotted against his, how your hips pitch into his over and over again in your pursuit of release.

“Ask for it, baby.” Joel grinds his leg up into your cunt. “You wanna come on me, you gotta ask for it.”

You shake your head wildly. You aren’t a beggar — especially not for Joel Miller. You’d rather throw yourself back into quicksand. Jump in front of a clicker. Step on an alligator.

Joel pouts mockingly at you. “Stubborn for a slut who’s willin’ to spread it open all hours ‘a the day.” You rub your knee into his bulge, tenting his jeans, in hopes that it’ll be a suitable distraction. He groans, knee jerking. His thigh rams against you, and your back arches. You see your brows pucker in your reflection, your hips undulating against him.

“F-fuck,” you whine out, bouncing against him.

“You wanna come, don’t you, peach?” You nod frantically. “Wanna soak me, huh?” At that, you grit your teeth and snarl at him. You do you do you do. But you don’t want to admit it.

You squirm on his leg, desperately rocking into him. You dig your feet into the creaking mattress, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Tremors wrack your body as you work yourself on him. Your cunt flutters, and you almost taste your orgasm.

Joel tosses you off of him.

“You son of a–” you shriek, thrashing and out of breath. Your clit throbs and your hole twitches at the stolen promise of release. You bounce on the mattress, sprawled on your back and twitching.

“I told ya,” he says. “Gotta ask for it.”

“I’m not asking you for shit, asshole–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll change your tune when I stuff your right full.” He grabs you by the back of your shirt and coaxes you into spinning around. He yanks you onto all fours, forehead meeting the mattress.

You back your hips up as he reaches around your shorts for the button. The zipper squeals as it comes down and he shuffles them down your legs. He nudges your knees apart. You can feel his bulge, insistent and pressed against the back of your thigh. He grips the inside of your thigh, fingers sliding through the slick that’s there.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “No wonder you were humpin’ me. Just needing someone to take away that ache, don’t you? Jus’ a horny girl wanting to go cock dumb.” His fingers graze over your clit, barely even a brush, and you let out a mangled sound into the comforter. “See? So desperate and sensitive. You’re cute when you’re not a pain in the ass.”

“That makes one of us,” you say.

Joel snorts. “She’s got jokes.” He rubs a circle into your clit, and then another, and all you can do is rock your hips into his hand. Impatient, you brace yourself on your elbow so you can reach behind him and fumble with his belt buckle. Joel laughs under his breath, working at the zipper while you undo the buckle. It chimes as his belt falls loose and his pants slump on his hips. You work the button open. 

You wriggle your hand into his briefs and pull him out, giving him a series of quick pumps. Joel grunts. “Just like that, peach. Fuck, yeah, you know what you’re doin’.”

He teases the tips of his fingers at your entrance. Razor sharp want slices up the insides of your warm thighs as you clench and drip more of your wetness along his hand. “I’ll throw you a bone,” Joel says. Then, with no warning, he slips a finger into your warmth and curls it just right. You claw against the sheets, whimpering.

“Nasty thing.” He hooks his finger and you fully mewl. Heat rushes into your cheeks. “Barely gotta do anythin’ to get you writhing and wanting.”

Warm tears brim at your eyes from the heady, deadly mix of arousal and hatred. Your cunt tightens around his finger, and without warning, he pushes another one in, twisting and hooking them brutally inside of you.

Your fingers fist in the sheets, temple pressed into the mattress. You can see the cocksure look on his face in the mirror, the way his forearm flexes with each thrust into you. “Fuck me already,” you spit. You know it’ll hurt if he fucks you without really preparing you. You want it to hurt. You want it to ache like the tread of his boot stamped on your chest. You want it to sting and simmer like the cuts that the wetlands left in a collage across your arms and legs. You want him to split you open and leave you flayed by your own pleasure.

“Alright, alright,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. He gives your clit a light slap that makes you squeal. You almost black out when you see him bring his slick-stained fingers to his mouth and suck. “Yeah, taste as sweet as a peach, dontcha sugar? Such a tasty little cunt for such a smart-mouthed brat.”

You could cry with how bad you want hi— no, his cock. 

“Gonna hurt, baby. But you want it to, don’t you? Wanna feel me all up in here.” He roams his free hand across your stomach, then back around to your ass where he tugs you back. There’s the smack of flesh as your hips meet each other, the whimper between your netted teeth as he nestles his cock between your slippery folds. You nod, head slinging forward. “Don’t gotta tell me. I know ya do. Girl like you, always such a smartass. Yeah, you want it rough.” His voice is gruff, lust-addled. “Act stupid all you want, peach. I got you all figured out.”

He slots his head against your hole and you let out a strangled noise into the mattress. Your vision swims as he pushes into you, thumbs dug into your ass cheeks so he can watch how you take him. You mewl, back arching into and away from him at the same time. Your body can’t decide where to go. If it wants to be further, or as close as possible to him. Joal groans as he sinks into you.

“Tight as a fuckin’ hose pipe, peach,” he says. He reaches around to give your flick your clit — a move that makes your entire body spasm. 

“So about as small as your dick, then?” It’s bullshit — you know it, and he knows it. He’s not even fully inside of you, but the difference is startling. He’s stuffing you to the brim, leaving you to scrabble and claw against the sheets.

He slams into you, a blatant disregard of your comfort. You feel his balls smack against your clit, and hear the same thigh you’d been humping slot against your own. A ragged cry rips from your throat. “Joel,” you whimper, hips trying to writhe against the bed. “Joel, fuck—”

“Feels pretty big now, don’t it?” You whine, petulant, but it breaks off into a moan as he pulls back and then punches back into you.

All you can do is take it, take it, take it as he bashes your swollen cunt with his fat cock. You gasp raggedly, each snap of his hip bringing pleasure-pain tears to your eyes. Joel’s nails dig into the meat of your ass and yank you back on him. The sting is renewed, then, as he props his leg up on the bed and pounds into you. You whimper, helpless to his whims.

Between one thrust and the next, the bite in your cunt turns into a thrum of pleasure. A persistent swarm of heat and your own slick leaking down his cock. “Like I said,” Joel grunts as he fucks you. “A nasty fuckin’ slut with a sloppy ‘lil cunt.”

You whine, squeezing around him. Your head spins. “Fuck,” he spits.

“Joel, please, please, ple–”

“Quit beggin’, it ain’t ladylike.” You prop yourself up on your elbow and reach behind him, tugging his wrist away from your ass so you can slip his hand between your thighs. His pistoning into you falters. “What’d I say?” Joel grunts. His knees adjust over the backs of your calves to hold you down.

“Keep touching me,” you whine. “Please, you asked me to ask for it, so I’m fucking asking for it.”

“Told you to ask permission, not cry at me like a kicked puppy,” he says. “I call the shots here. Like it or not.” He goes to yank his hand away from your clit, but you yank at his knuckle.

Joel scowls, and so fast you might get vertigo, his other arm’s bicep locks around your neck and heaves you back against his chest. You sputter, drool pooling in your mouth. Your hands briefly tug at his arm, but fall limp when he says, “Oh, shut the fuck up, I ain’t gonna kill ya. Gotta keep you on your toes, peach.”

You arguably shouldn’t. But you trust him. Enough to keep you alive, at least.

With another thrust into the warm vise of your cunt, your body’s running hotter than an engine and twice as fast. He squeezes tight enough that your air is in short supply, and with it, everything is amplified. Pleasure crinkles through your body like crumpled aluminum foil, serrated and clinging to you. The crook of his elbow is warm, and you can’t help your head lolling back to give him a look that’s purely salacious. He tips his head down at you and smirks.

“Yeah, that’s my hungry little cockwhore,” he says. With his free hand, he tugs your hair. You seize around him, struggling for what to hang onto. You let out a rasping, strangled moan. With your head tipped back, you can see the tilt to his lips as he moans, feel his scruff scraping at your forehead. “Takin’ it like you were made for it. Shit.”

Joel moans as you clamp down around him again.

Tears might be sliding down your cheeks – you don’t know. You’re too trapped in this, in this moment, in the feeling of his cock slamming into your throbbing, aching cunt. “Mmph,” you whine low in your throat as he fucks up into you. He’s damn near bruising your cervix. Each thrust makes your cunt flitter around him. 

“You look good like this,” Joel grunts against your ear, using the leverage of his propped-up leg to bounce you on his cock. “All quiet ‘n sweet ‘n whorish. Goddamn, never thought a slut could feel this fuckin’ tight.”

Your eyes slip shut, vision spotting behind your eyelids. He keeps forcing himself into you. Making room. Making a mark that you’ll never forget he carved into you.

Your body is limp as he gets himself off, his hand moving from your hair. He gropes at your tits, flicking your nipple in a way that draws a sloping moan out of you. He slides it down your side, each callous bumping against your skin until he reaches your clit. You nod wildly, and he chuckles into the shell of your ear. “You think you’ve earned it? All you’ve been doing is whinin’ like a little bitch, baby.” He taps his fingers against your clit, once, twice, mounting the tautness of the tension drawn tight like elastic through your body. You gasp down air as he ever so slightly loosens his grip around your neck. He keeps thrusting into you, jerking tiny moans out of you as he does.

Your legs tremble. Your brain feels like mush. You wring his cock with each strain of your pussy. “I don’t want you,” you gasp out between thrusts. “I want you for what you can — fuck — give me. So I guess… that makes… us even. Doesn’t it?” Joel’s finger stills where it hovers over your clit, and you almost don’t notice the falter in his hips with how subtle it is.

“Yeah,” Joel pants. “Guess it does, peach.”

He presses his thumb down on your clit and the whole world makes sense.

You cry out as your juices soak his cock, dripping down his balls and thighs. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant in between moans. He’s holding you up now by the underside of one of your arms, his fingers toying with your nipples. Each touch sends laser hot electricity between your legs.

He slams up into you again and you shriek. “Fuck, you’re a mess,” Joel says. “All stuffed full ‘a me… yeah, that’s how you’re s’posed to be. Sprayin’ your pussy juices all over me while I ram my cock into this drippy little hole.”

You whine, clit twitching against his finger. Tears burn at the edges of your eyes like fire on parchment. “I wanna come,” you whisper, voice tinged with need. “Please, Joel. I–”

“Who do you want to make you come?” he asks as he rolls his hips up into you. An undulating pace that makes you want to scream.

The curdling pleasure in your stomach brims, stews, steeps. You’re drowning in it, in the fire lashing through your body. Fire that he lit and stoked and now, only he can put out. “You, Joel!” you cry out. “You! I want you to make me come, please, I need it, I want t-”

“I got you, peach,” he says. He mashes the pad of his thumb against your swollen nub, rubbing circles, circles, circles. You scream this time, head slumping against him. “Throbbin’ for it,” he growls out. “All swollen and whinin’ like you’re in heat. You needed this. Needed me.”

“I needed you,” you nod, exhaling. You think you’d agree to anything he said right now. “Fuck,” you wail. Your hands anchor themselves on his forearm.

“Don’t fight it, baby, don’t fight it,” he coos. Your nails scratch angry red tracks down his burly arms. “Come on me, see if it gives you an attitude adjustment.”

To your chagrin, that does it.

Your orgasm shatters you. You’re fragile as it tears through your body, tying knots around your racing heart and making your legs quiver. You feel yourself gush around Joel’s cock, gasping for air as your lungs empty. Your cunt flutters around him as pleasured tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Everything’s hot and melting, your arousal dripping out of you in droves. Joel rubs at your clit through it, coaxing in your ear, “That’s it, theeeeere it is. Shit, baby, I’m comin’— squeezin’ me so damn good—”

Joel twitches inside of you, and you whine at his absence when he pulls out just in time. With a throaty, reverberating groan, he sprays the small of your back with his cum. You gasp as it splashes against you, your chest heaving against his hand. 

You sit in the silence, high off of the come down, panting in delirium. 

Joel clears his throat. “You alright, peach?”

“You don’t have to pretend to like me now that we’ve had sex, Joel,” you say. “I get it. We fucked. We got it out of our systems. Hooray. Do you want me to pop some confetti poppers?”

“I was being courteous, goddamn,” he grunts as he stands up. You watch as he tugs his jeans back up. “Clearly ain’t nobody ever treated you gentlemanly before.”

“Says the man who got off on choking me out.”

He shoots back, “The feeling was mutual, if I remember five minutes ago correctly. I ain’t that old.” He buckles his belt up. As he redresses, you toss your own shorts off to the side. He’s already been in your whole pussy — you’d rather not sleep in the denim shorts.

When you’re done, you give him a look.

He pinches his nose bridge and sighs through his teeth. “We oughta hit the hay. Long day ahead. And you should be too exhausted by now to be wakin’ me up again.”

You clench your fists at your side. “Fine.”

You reach for his flashlight and turn it off.

Reunion Tower is the first building you see.

Dallas. Home sweet home, for better or worse.

The skyline slowly eases up and out of the treeline as you and Joel meander up the car-cluttered I-20. Remnants from a life that’s long gone, all but skeletons with the organs of another time.

You and Joel have scarcely talked. Mostly, it’s just him pointing out directions. But he does other things. He helps you through wreckage or rubble instead of leaving you to muscle through on your own. He gives you part of his rations. He tosses you a magazine he finds in a store. He keeps watch.

You had meant what you said. You fucked. That was that. He was still the man your father told ghost stories about. The thoughtless killer. The unforgiving bullet to a skull. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of peoples’ deliverance to the afterlife. The man who’d betrayed your father all those years ago, a story of which you only know the vague specifics of.

Maybe you’ll ask him while he’s on bedrest from that bullet wound. (Or maybe you’ll just ask him. He’s not the sort of man to stay down for long.)

Regardless, as you two cross the exit a couple blocks from your dad’s base, you ask him, “Do you think he sent people after me?”

“Maybe,” Joel says. “Probably went up to Oklahoma instead. Louisiana ain’t famous for bein’ easy hikin’ material. Shocker that them Cockroaches brought you all the way out there.”

You nod and kick a rock with the toe of your shoe. “You think your group’s doing good on their own?”

“Who fuckin’ knows,” Joel says. “Left Tommy in charge of the place, I’ll be lucky if it ain’t burned down by now.”

“Well, you’ve got a whole new world ahead of you. Free of debts and all. Maybe my dad will finally get off your ass. Could skip town, if you wanted.”

Joel’s feet drag on the concrete. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he scratches the back of his neck. “There were never any debts, peach,” he says.

Your brows furrow as you stop in your tracks. “The fuck do y—”

“Got you of my own volition,” he says. “Your dad and I might be on shit terms, but that don’t mean I don’t care about him. I…” He pauses. “I know what it’s like to lose people.”

“Everyone does,” you say.

“Yeah,” Joel nods. He turns to make eye contact with you. “Everyone does. But I don’t exactly wanna go about losin’ you,” he says.

“That’s a bold claim, Miller,” you say.

“You’re good company. Even if you’re a shitass.” He pats you on the shoulder. His hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he gives it a squeeze before letting it drop. “Now c’mon. Let’s get you home.”

[howlett-dekarios]

𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕

▏Trilogy!Logan Howlett x Reader

▏Summary: Though reader and Logan have been in a relationship for some time now, she's avoiding sleeping with him in the same bed, or rather waking up next to him. He had to find out way and help her with accepting her beauty.

▏Warnings: just pure fluff | suggestive themes | self insecure!reader | comfort | acne talk | MDNI

▏Word count: 1,7k

▏A/n: It's some sort of self therapy because I had been dealing with acne myself for years and still have my battle marks. Now I got pretty used to and accept it but some days it still gets me, so I thought that the idea of Logan comforting reader is a perfect way of self made medication for it. I hope that it'll be useful for anyone here and help you guys with accepting your own 'imperfections'. Remember you're beautiful no matter what!

You’ve been dating Logan for almost a month now. And it was the best month of your entire life; all the small gestures, amazing sex, sweet cuddling and late night talks. You were so sure about him being the one. Rough on the outside and so damn gentle and full of love inside.

There was one particular barrier that you haven’t been comfortable crossing yet though. No matter how tired you had been after him fucking you senseless, or how late you’ve finished your chats, you always came back to your own room. A few times he had asked what’s wrong or why are you so reluctant on staying with him in bed, always coming with some lame excuse.

It wasn’t about him. Shit, you would’ve been more than okay, love waking up on his chest, his scent in your nostrils and his heavy, deep sleepy voice first thing you hear in the morning.

But you couldn’t. No matter how long Logan begged you to just stay, you weren’t able to bring yourself to do it. Because it would mean he would’ve seen your true face, without any make up on.

After dealing with acne your whole life, testing every diet, skin care product and other home methods year ago you’d decided to consult you issue with dermatologist which resulted in what you’ve feared most; being prescribed a strong and very invasive meds that messed with your hormones.  Aside from your doc reminding you every single time not to get pregnant, which wasn’t really a problem since you’ve been on pills, you weren’t allowed to get any piercings or tattoos, your skin was so dry and your lips were cracking every three days no matter how often you moisturize them.

But back then you’d been determined, saying to yourself how it all will be worth it in the future. How finally you gonna have a clean and healthy skin, how you’ll be more confident and visually appealing.

Now, a few months after ending your treatment, you knew how big of a bullshit it all was. Pathetic lies just to keep going. Near the end of therapy, you seen how it all looked like. Yes, the pimples and other stuff were gone and not showing up again, your cheeks smooth under the fingers. But it wasn’t the effect you thought and prayed for. Instead, you were left with darker scars which were still visible sometimes even with your foundation on if you weren’t putting extra green concealer under it. You obviously asked the doctor about it, but her only reply was indifference and shake of arms. She said straight to your face how it was rather a common thing and the only way of getting rid of it was some laser treatment. You honestly felt like crying then. 

“Stay, princess.” Logan groaned, his head laying on your naked chest, cooling down from emptying his balls inside you seconds ago.

Every single time you’d left after sex with him, he felt like an absolute asshole, not providing any sort of aftercare. Not being able to make sure of you being fine, of him not pushing you too far. At this point he would do anything for you to spend the night. To let him cuddle and make you feel safe and love. Hug you from behind while you could be a little spoon, your back glued to his chest, Logan’s nose deep in your hair, smelling you sweet scent. 

He knew you loved him, but sometimes it felt more like some sort of friends with benefits deal than an actual relationship.

“I can’t, babe. I need to remove makeup and clean my face.”

“You can do it here. Just bring your things here already and stay forever.”

“I can’t-“

“Why not, baby? You know that my bed is much more comfortable than yours.”

Such a stupid argument but it was truth nonetheless. Because of Logan’s past and his nightmares Charles made sure to provide as good conditions as possible, not to make it even harder for Howlett.

“It’s not that I don’t want to-“

“Then what? You’re snoring?” Before you could’ve opened your mouth he quickly added. “No, you’re not. You napped on me too often for me not to realize.” Even before your relationship, when you two had been just friends there were situations when you were exhausted after the mission and him giving his arm for you to lay on.  “Than what is it, darlin’? You’re a  true princess who’s transforming to a monster by night?” It was a mere joke but shit, your reaction gave him enough insight to realize how close he hit. “Hey, look at me, beauty.” His big hand cupped your cheek, forcing you gently to look in his eyes. “You can tell me whatever it is, okay? I won’t judge.”

“You can’t see me without makeup.” Your voice was barely heard.

“What?” He laughed trying to sense your joke. “Of course I’ve seen you-“ But then he stopped himself.

Now when you brought it up, he couldn’t recall any situation when he has seen you like that. No matter if it was a party, regular day or a mission, you’ve always been wearing it. Even when Chuck called the team meeting in the middle of the night, your lashes were covered by mascara, foundation all over your face which was contoured by bronzer and blush. Most times it was a very delicate one, which planted already so deep in his mind that his brain was honestly surprised hearing you admit it. Of course he wasn’t any sort of idiot to think you were naturally born with glitter on your face but.. Logan never realized he has never truly seen your face. 

“Is that really the reason why are we sleeping in separate rooms? Because you don’t want me to see you like that?” He genuinely needed to know and seeing you nod made something inside of him die. A thought if the most beautiful and kind woman on the entire planet seeing herself as not enough, not worthy to be seen in her pure charm, sting deepy in his heart. “Why?”

“Because I’m not that pretty. I’m not looking like you think I am.”

“Bullshit.” Logan had enough of it and a bright idea came to his mind. “Wait here for me, princess.”

After a few minutes of him rumbling around you room, searching for your skin care product, he came back with a small bottle of micellar water cosmetic pads. It immediately clicked in your mind what he wanted to do with them.

“Logan, no! You can’t-“

He only shushed you with a gentle kiss and small reassuring smile.

“I want to see you, princess. Wanna feel your face.” His eyes looking for consent in yours.

“O-okay.” You stammered, closing your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. Too afraid that he will not want you after seeing how you truly looked like under all the foundation and layers of concealer.

His hands despite their size and the fact of adamantium inside of his skin were so gentle. As if Logan was afraid of even touching you because of how he could’ve ruin something, break you in any way. 

Soon enough you felt the nice feeling of freshness all around the face, it being hydrate and probably all shiny, only enhancing the marks on it.

“Darlin’ open your eyes for me. Please.” There was no way you could’ve denied his pleading tone. His eyes were full of admiration and pure adoration. Like he was facing the most perfect piece of art he has ever seen. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You don’t need to lie, Lo… I know how it looks like…” You’ve been looking in the mirror every single morning.

“How? Absolutely stunning and like the prettiest face I’ve ever land my eyes on? Because it sure as hell looks like it to me, darling.”

By this point you were on verge of tears, hearing him say such stuff.

“But the scars…”

“My love.” A bunch of kisses had been planted on your knuckles, then both yours and his hands were brought to cup your cheeks. “These ones? They’re the badges of honor. Orders for your fight, proof of how freaking strong you are. For you, they can be just scars, but for me, they are mark of you history. Showing how far you’ve gone to fight for yourself. They make you even more pretty. And fuck I can’t get enough of seeing you like this.” Natural, your expression and face features not hidden under any covering. “Besides do you expect ladybug to hide her dots? It’s the same as with these stretch marks of yours which are absolutely driving me crazy whenever I see them.” Oh yes, you damn well knew how he adored it. The first time he had seen you naked, Logan made sure to pay them enough attention for you to realize that your complex is one of his turn-ons. “You can’t be mad at tiger for proudly showing off its stripes.”

“Lo-“

“I’m not done. I love you Y/n with or without makeup. Your body is a treasure for me to devour and protect by all costs, you understand?”

Tears rolled down your face and you hidden yourself in the pit of his collarbone. His lips gently brushing against your hair, caressing them with small kisses.

“Thank you.” You squealed quietly, and he moved your head to face him again, giving your forehead a peck.

“No need to, princess. Any time, I’m here for you.” He brushed the small paths with his thumbs, acknowledging how smooth your skin was there. “So what now? You staying’ here or there is another thing I should know about?” A small chuckle left you and it was the best sound he had heard this night, even considering all the moans and whimpers he had gotten out of you before. “That’s it, baby. Come here, so I can finally hold you right.”

For him it was definitely one of the best sleep he has had for a long time now.

As for you? Being able to hear his sleepy groans and small nothings by the morning were enough reason to stay in this room forever.

▏If you wanna join my Logan's fics taglist check this post.

@california-boys-and-sun @r-oseie

[sapphire-writes]

Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: The morning after the hockey house party. Aegon's first study session and some confusing feelings that have begun to develop.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series (suggestive & crude language, descriptions of sex, debriefing about sex) general language & mature themes

note: nothing super spicy this chapter but hope you enjoy my loves 😘

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 3: Breakfast of Champions ~ next chapter

The morning light streams across your face waking you from your dreams. Your head throbs slightly, in tandem with your heartbeat. Your mouth feels dry as though it was stuffed with cotton. 

You moan, turning over in the bed. Campfire, the smell of roasting marshmallows. You bury your face in the pillow inhaling the scent. The flannel sheets hug you, keeping you nice and toasty like the marshmallow being held over the flames. 

You hear noises from outside the room, and as much as you do not want to leave, you know you need to. You sit up, looking down at yourself. Baela is lying on her stomach, snoring slightly, her silver curls splayed out around her head. The room is cluttered, but not a total disaster much to your suprise. You figured Aegon would be messier. 

Shit, you need water. And an Advil. Damn, your head hurts. 

“Bae,” you groan. 

Baela moans in response. You poke her cheek, and she swats at your hand. 

“Leave me alone to die,” she groans. 

“I smell bacon,” you tell her, nostrils flaring, “You think these jocks know how to cook?”

“Tell them to send up some eggs Benny and I’ll be square,” Baela grumbles into the pillow. 

“Right away, madame,” you tell her, getting out of bed.

You rise from the bed looking down at yourself. A baggy t-shirt that reads Knights Hockey. You remember changing, spinning around for Aegon, and him holding your face. His thigh under you. You stand a little straighter.

Aegon fucking Targaryen.

Your eyes widen remembering more of the night. Holy shit. Your cheeks warm and you swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat. Baela groans, still facedown in the pillow. 

“Bae,” you whisper, “I think I-”

A crash of pots and pans is heard from downstairs, followed by a string of curses. Baela lifts her head, meeting your eyes. 

“Maybe make sure they’re not burning the place down?” she asks, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

You nod, eyebrows scrunching together. Baela lets her head hit the pillow once more. She’ll sleep all day if someone lets her. Baela firmly believes that a night out needs an entire day of recovery. Debrief can happen over dinner. 

You glance in the full-length mirror that hangs on the back of the door, smoothing your bedhead and making sure you’re somewhat presentable before walking downstairs. Red solo cups litter the hallway along with left-behind vapes and other party memorabilia. You tip your toes around, gingerly walking down the stairs. They creak with every step, signaling your arrival. 

“Shit!” a voice says with another crash, “Fuck this grease keeps burning me-ah!”

You walk into the kitchen where John Umber is battling a frying pan full of bacon, the grease crackling and popping splashing him. He’s wearing a flowery apron making him look like a mother grizzly bear. He yelps again, throwing a dishrag over his bare arms. Brandon Karstark and Erryx Cargyll are seated at the counter, laughing at their friend and teammate. 

“Girl,” the voice of Reese Bolton says, as he brushes past you into the kitchen.

The laughter stops and all eyes turn to you. It’s silent for a moment, despite the crackling of the bacon before you walk over to the stove, turning down the heat. Reese sits down at the table. 

“You’ve got the heat too high,” you tell John. 

He points the tongs at you, eyes narrowing.

“Tutor girl,” he says, nodding with appreciation, “Saving the day.”

Brandon Karstark chews a mouthful of cereal watching as you sit down at the corner of the counter. Erryx glances at you sideways. Reese is the only one who seems unbothered, almost cold, and indifferent about your presence. John turns the bacon in the pan, lifting the finished pieces onto a paper plate. 

You meet Brandon’s gaze and he quickly looks away. It’s like they’ve never sat with a girl before eating breakfast.

“What?” you ask, “Do I have something on my face?”

Reese turns from the table he’s sat at. Squints at you. 

“I don’t see any cum residue on your face, so I’m guessing Aegon didn’t sleep with you,” he says, rather nonchalantly.

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline at his crude remark. You don’t know much about Reese, but you’ve heard he’s a dickhead. 

“Dude,” Erryx says, and it's echoed by the other guys. 

“Just saying,” Reese says, going back to his phone.

“We’re friends,” you tell them, “Just friends.”

“Such good friends,” Aegon says yawning, entering the kitchen, “I don’t sleep on the couch for just anyone. My neck’s gonna be bothering me all week now thanks to you.”

His grin is playful, bedhead endearing as he scrunches his nose at you. He’s shirtless and you can see the head of his dragon tattoo snaking around his hipbone. It must travel down the length of his thigh, but only the head is visible on the side of his stomach; the rest disappears below his gray sweats.Your stomach flutters pleasantly and you watch as he pops slices of bread into the toaster. 

“Here ya go, my lady,” John says putting the plate of bacon in front of you, “Do you like eggs? I can cook them any way you want them.”

“Out resident chef,” Brandon tells you, blushing as he does. You give him a small smile.

“Scrambled?” you ask and John nods.

“Coming right up,” he tells you, saluting you.

“Hey can you do eggs benedict by chance?” you ask him.

“That’s a little fancy,” he comments, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Baela’s favorite,” you tell him.

“Well in that case,” he says, “I can make some magic happen.”

You chuckle. Aegon is smiling, his side profile facing you as he butters his toast. He brings the plate in front of you, resting his elbows on the counter. His eyes are rimmed with purple, from lack of a good night’s sleep no doubt. Lips swollen, as though they’d just been kissed. They had, by you, just a few hours ago. Your lips tingle with the memory. 

Aegon bites into toast, playfully pursuing his lips.

“You sleep well?” he asks, “Ready to tutor the fuck outta me?”

“Always,” you tell me, taking a bite of the bacon provided. 

His smirk grows. He seems to like that you play the game with him. Aegon offers you the second piece of toast which you take, grateful for some carbs in your stomach. 

“Have you seen Sara?” you ask, wondering where your best friend was.

No sooner than you spoke her name, a loud banging begins upstairs. Rhythmic and solid, followed by a flurry of grunts and moans. Aegon’s eyes look up toward the ceiling, then back to you. Your mouth drops open.

“No way.”

“Yes way,” Aegon assures.

“They’ve been at it all morning,” Erryx confirms.

Damn. You cannot wait for the debrief later on. 

Aegon grins as the noises continue, taking another bite of toast. 

You decide to leave after breakfast (and hauling Baela out of Aegon’s bed) to go to your apartment and shower before meeting Aegon at the library to study. You’d much rather take a nap, as Baela intends to, but a deal is a deal. 

Your shower revitalizes you, the water washing away the feeling of sleeping in a frat house. You stay in extra long just because. When you finally emerge, the apartment is still quiet. 

“Sara?” you call but don’t expect an answer. 

Her location confirms she’s still at the hockey house. Damn, Jace Velaryon. You text Sara, letting her know your plans, and then text Aegon. 

“I don’t get it,” Aegon says, hardly a whisper even though you’re in the library.

You raise an eyebrow at him. It’s been an hour of this now.

“Why are they in…the cave?” he asks again, violet eyes tired.

You take a sip from your coffee. Second of the study session. You rub your temples with your fingers. 

“It’s an allegory,” you tell him. Again.

He blinks at you, as though you’re speaking High Valyrian. 

“Yes,” he answers, with no conviction behind it, “Why don’t they leave?”

“That’s the point,” you tell him, “Aeg, you’re so close to the point.”

He frowns, jaw slacking as he reads it again. You sigh, pulling the book away from him. Aegon glances up at you with wide violet eyes. He’s like a puppy, you’ve realized, cocking his head to the side trying to decipher what you’re trying to tell him. 

“Can we talk about something else?” Aegon asks, leaning back in his seat.

You fold your hands on top of one another.

“What do you want to talk about?” you ask.

His eyes narrow mischieviously.

“Your conversation with Stark.”

You tilt your head to the side. 

“What about it?”

“What did he say?”

You shrug, crossing your arms. You chose a comfy sweatshirt for this study session and its warmth makes you want to fall asleep. 

“He called me cute, and said we could finish the conversation another time.”

Aegon rolls his eyes at your answer. 

“You’re so dramatic.”

“What? Why?” you ask frowning.

“You were basically crying last night that he didn’t like you!”

“Well, he left!” you tell him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout.

“To drive someone home!” Aegon argues. 

“Not someone, his ex-girlfriend!” you tell him, raising an eyebrow. 

“He’s just a good guy, you don’t see him complaining about you hanging with me!”

“He did.”

Aegon pauses, eyebrows raising. 

“Wait, what?” he asks, smirking. 

“Well, he asked about us hanging out, if we were seeing each other,” you tell him.

Aegon’s smile grows, revealing his perfect teeth. He must’ve had braces as a kid, no one is born with a smile that perfect. Or maybe they’re fake, his family is wealthy enough. 

“What did you say?” he asks.

“That I’m just your tutor!” you say, taking another sip of coffee.

Aegon’s eyes bug out of his head. 

“Bunny!” he scolds.

“What?”

“You could have made him sweat a little more,” Aegon argues.

“I don’t want him to think we’re dating,” you tell him, frowning.

Aegon simply shakes his head, giving you a pitying look. It makes your stomach flip, the way he looks at you. 

“You don’t know how any of this works, do you?” he asks, in a chastizing manner. 

You sigh, tilting your head back, looking at the ceiling. 

“I think you’re the one being dramatic.”

Aegon waves you off.

“Do you even know how pissed Jay Lannister was when he saw you with me?”

Your face flushes, and you can feel the blush creeping up your neck towards your cheeks. Aegon’s eyes flicker across your face, down your neck, and over your exposed shoulders. It’s like he has laser beams behind those violet eyes, the heat seems to follow where he looks.

“Bet he texted you,” he challenges and you shake your head.

“I blocked him,” you tell him, causing the corner of his lips to pull up into a smirk.

“Good girl,” he praises, chuckling softly, “Bet he tried to text you. He was wrecked after our little display.”

You break away from his eyes. Little display. He’s been teasing around the topic all day. He has to know what happened, there’s no way he doesn’t, right? Your eyes flicker to his lips.

Ask me again when you’re sober.

You part your lips to speak, but Aegon speaks first. 

“Speak of the devil,” he murmurs looking behind you. 

You turn, expecting to see Jason, but instead, it's Cregan Stark placing a book on the counter, returning it before he moves to leave the library. He’s freshly showered, with his long brown hair pulled off his face in a low bun, and his beard nicely trimmed. He’s wearing black sweatpants that hang low on his hips, accentuating his thick thighs. You feel your mouth water slightly. 

“Now’s your chance, bunny,” Aegon encourages. 

“Be right back,” you tell him, rising from your seat. 

You walk towards Cregan, calling his name as you get closer. He turns, smiling as you approach him. Gods he’s handsome. Your heart beats erratically in your chest as you stand in front of him. 

“Hey stranger,” Cregan greets you, “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you tell him, smiling softly, “Did Aly get home safe?”

“Oh yeah, no problem,” he tells you, “Sorry I just bailed on you like that.”

“No worries, I think it's sweet you drove her home,” you tell him.

“Your friend…Sara right? She and Jace really hit it off,” Cregan tells you.

You could say that.

“Yeah, they did,” you tell him.

Cregan wets his lips.

“We should go out, the four of us, and do something fun,” he tells you.

Holy shit.

“Yeah, yeah I would love that, and Sara would be so down,” you tell him, nervously rushing your words. Cregan smiles.

“Let’s do it,” he tells you, “Can I get your number?”

You nod excitedly, not trusting your voice. Cregan hands you his phone and you put your number in, sending a text to yourself. As you hand him back his phone, Cregan narrows his eyes playfully.

“It’s your real number, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer, giggling.

“Good, cause I’ll hunt you down, it’s a small campus,” he playfully threatens.

You giggle again, unable to stop yourself. Your chest feels warm with his playful banter. 

Aegon watches you from his seat, eyes shameless roaming over your body. Observing the way you cross your arms behind your back, rolling back on your heels nervously as you converse with Stark. How your leggings are molded against your legs perfectly, leaving little to the imagination.

Aegon can feel you pressed against him as you were last night. Hear the soft sounds you released, feeling you riding his thigh. He bets you’d feel fucking amazing riding his cock instead. The though makes him hard and he switches the way he’s sitting, trying to find some relief.

He can’t think like that. You’re Helaena’s friend. Her best friend. He’s caused Helaena drama in the past and he won’t do that again.

No matter how much he wants to.

Besides, you have a deal. 

Aegon shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as you prance back over to him. More a happy skip than a walk. 

“I have a date,” you tell him, smiling wide, “A double date. Score!”

“Nicely done, bunny,” he tells you, watching you bite your lip.

“Okay,” you say sighing, “back to the cave.”

When you return home several hours later your apartment is dark, and empty. Saturday night should be more lively, but you decide a night in may be just what you need. You drop your bag of takeout on the table and sit down, scrolling through your phone.

You hear the door to Sara’s room open and the sound of her sock-clad feet padding down the hallway. She emerges in Jace Velaryon’s sweatshirt, the hood up covering her whole head except her face. She’s wearing her comfiest pair of socks and seemingly nothing else.

Sara winces as she sits down in the chair across from you. You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Hello, beautiful,” you tell her, “it's nice to see you this evening.”

“Yes I know,” Sara sighs, “I’m sorry for being MIA all day, I was kidnapped.”

Your eyes widen. 

“Kidnapped?”

Sara smiles mischievously, nodding. She bites her lip, leaning forward and grabbing a fry from your takeout container. 

“Two words,” she says, clasping her hands together, “Jace Velaryon.”

“Tell me more,” you insist, wide eyed.

“Massive cock-”

“Sara!”

“Super freak-”

“Ohmygod,” you squeal. 

“He doesn’t look like he would have a horse cock, right?” Sara begins, “But girl. Massive. Like, I’m in pain. Glorious pain, from his massive schlong.”

“Ouch,” you tell her, “massive? MASSIVE Sara? That sounds painful.”

“This boy split me in half,” Sara says, sighing dreamily, “over, and over, and over again.”

You place a hand over your heart.

“I heard,” you tell her earnestly.

She squeals at your expression.

“No you did not!”

“Just a little! In the kitchen!” you tell her laughing.

“Ohmygod,” she says, covering her face, “So fucking worth it. He’s so sweet. We spent all night cuddling, we didn’t even fuck until the morning. He’s so cute, girl, I like him so much.”

“Good because we have a date,” you tell her, smiling slyly. 

Sara gives you a quizzical look. 

“I’m sorry what?” she asks.

“You and Jace, and me and Cregan,” you tell her. 

“Not Aegon?” she asks.

You frown. 

“No not Aegon,” you tell her, “That’s weird. Why would you say that?”

She shrugs.

“You two seemed awfully close last night, that’s all,” she comments, stealing another fry.

You blink as she stares at you.

“He was just helping me out,” you tell her and she nods.

“Whatever you say bestie,” she says smirking.

“Can we go back to talking about Velaryon’s monster cock now?” you tease and she claps her hands together.

“Of course we can,” she says.

The rest of the evening is spent debriefing but you can’t shake the thoughts from your head around what Sara said about Aegon. Whatever. You have a date, with Cregan. This is what you wanted all along. Right?

note: OOOOOO the feelings are coming 🤭 y'all know me, you know how much i like to make things messy, and its coming i promise hehe

THIN ICE TAGLIST: @padfooteyes, @nina2697, @julieeba, @darkenchantress, @heavenly1927, @fan-goddess, @possiblyafangirl, @n4tforlife

bold means I could not tag for some reason!

drop a comment to be added to this series taglist

[p-antomime]

(un)lucky.

𖦹 minors don’t interact. | wc: 3,7K.

𖦹 content: hard dom!mikey, unprotected sex, knotting, slight voice kink, breeding kink, dub-con, breath play, a/b/o dynamic, marking, slight manhadle, mention of blood (but not blood kink), impregnation, mention of mindbreak, hair pulling, scratching, oral sex (f! receiving), feral!mikey (i feel the need to put this as a warning!).

𖦹 pairings: alpha!manjiro sano x omega!f!reader.

request. | tokyo rev. masterlist!

How did you get to this position?

No, more importantly, at what point did your clothes come off your body and hit the floor?

The first thing you could honestly remember was having a small, not very important discussion with Emma and Chifuyu about going to her place. And by place, reference is made to the Sano house. The initial idea was just to accompany your two friends on what should be something like a movie night, but just his presence and knowing that he would possibly be there irritated you.

It irritated you to the point where you felt the blood ache against your temples, throat go dry, hands sweat cold and heart beat a little faster as if it wanted to pierce your ribs. But it was not exactly hate, you'd rather think it was just simple despise because that's exactly what Manjiro Sano deserved for his behavior.

Not everyday, usual behavior. But rather, what he apparently chose for the most difficult days in the months of his mediocre life. Some girls you knew used to say that Mikey had probably been the most aggressive and uncontrolled alpha with whom they had been (un)lucky enough to sleep. This kind of information was noted in your memory as a way to avoid him, at least on the days that it came to your attention that he would be going through some rut.

Sano Manjiro was a problem you didn't want to have to deal with. But still, when Chifuyu said that "the three of you were just going to watch a quick little movie and then go meet Kazutora and Takemichi at the cafeteria", you believed him too soon. And it wasn't as if your blond friend had lied, quite the contrary: his idea really was just to watch a movie with you and Emma and maybe even Mikey.

If only he wasn't locked in his bedroom trying to get through a rut without anyone's seemingly unnecessary help. And this information only came to your attention when, almost half a block away from the Sano family home, an intense smell intoxicated your nostrils, corroded your brain from the inside and almost knocked you out, leaving your legs as weak as jelly and you needing to lean on one of Chifuyu's arms.

— Holy shit... — You spoke desperately, putting one hand over your nose as you felt your head start to spin and eyes begin to focus, get cloudy and slowly refocus and shivers traveled up your back in the shape of electric waves and landed around the middle of your legs like a starter motor of an arousal you neither wanted nor intended to feel.

— Emma, wait up! — Chifuyu exclaimed as he saw Emma continue walking unaware that you had stopped walking to pull yourself together, and Mikey's sister turned back suddenly before running to where you and that beta had stopped in the middle of the street.

— Damn it, Emma... — You gasped, taking a deep breath before letting go of Chifuyu's arm and straightening the posture, your hand still covering your nose, even though your sanity was already beginning to be eaten away. — I swear ... if that fucking smell is coming from him, I’ll kill you and... — Emma interrupted you by raising her hands as if in surrender.

— In my defense, I didn't even know his rut started today! Y’know that almost every week I sleep in the college dormitory and he and Shin stay at home, just the two of them. — She complained, looking from you to Chifuyu. — You... what the hell, Y/N, if you want to go home, we'll take you back. — You bit your lower lip weighing your options, and as you took a deep breath before answering, your mind had to cling to whatever self-control was left so that your eyes wouldn't roll up as more of the essence of a guy you despised entered your nostrils.

— I already stink of Mikey's scent anyway, now there's no point in going home. — You huffed, shaking the air around your face in an attempt to get some of that essence out and walked back side by side with Chifuyu and Emma until the three of you were standing in front of the Sano family home. — Just don't leave me alone with him.

The two of them nodded in agreement, but you didn't feel all that firm in their agreement since you were looking from Chifuyu to Emma and vice versa and neither of them were wanting to maintain much eye contact. "Cowards...", you thought before entering the house and walking straight into the living room where there were already several pillows, comforters and sheets spread out on the sofa bed present in the middle of the room.

— I'll make some popcorn, be right back! — Emma announced, leaving her coat on the sofa and going to the kitchen, taking Chifuyu with her to get soda, juice and other sweets that she had probably bought just for that night.

You've stared at the Netflix catalog open on the television since only God knows when with hands nervously groping the edges of the shorts glued to your thighs and brain trying to wiggle out and push away the thoughts racing through your mind.

Was Mikey in his room? If so, was he feeling pain? The same way you felt when you were experiencing heat with no one to help you relieve the burning desire inside your body?

You huffed because you found yourself worrying a little too much about how Manjiro could handle his own rut. He didn't deserve your pity, but you needed to somehow clear your thoughts and make your hands stop breaking out in a cold sweat. Maybe washing your face would help. Your eyes went to the staircase leading up to the other floor of the house and a heavy sigh escaped through your lips.

"All right, Y/N, you just need to... go to the bathroom upstairs, wash your face, and run back down here. Obviously you can do that, you're not a child anymore."

And that's how their feet found each other, walking up the stairs as fast as possible.

When you reached the top floor, eyes automatically fell on the ajar door of Mikey's room. You knew it was his because you had been to the Sano house several times in other months. But today it wasn't wide open as usual, you could only see a sliver of light slipping through the edges of the door. Your tongue passed slowly over lips, your brain making you think: "What if..."

Your head cocked back and forth. What if nothing. Don't jinx it, keep going to the bathroom to wash your face.

Your feet took you to the bathroom that was about two doors away from Mikey's room and the more seconds that passed before your fingers turned on the sink faucet, the faster your heart beat, the more tension tightened your muscles from the inside to the outside, the more the pit of your stomach seemed to clench in anticipation.

But anticipation for what exactly? For Manjiro to get his claws into you?

You let out a debauched laugh at your own thoughts. "Not in a million years."

Soon after washing your face and drying hands, you found yourself facing that hallway again that seemed even longer than before and your eyes eventually landed on the ajar door to Mikey's room. The gap now seemed a little wider, and deep down you knew that Manjiro was on the other side of that door just waiting to pull you in, if the alpha inside his brain was getting tired of having to deal with its own rut alone. You knew he could smell you.

And then, the door to his room opened so fast that not a blink of your eye could assimilate the moment when the figure of Mikey, with his light hair and dark eyes in perfect contrast, cheeks soaked with a redness you didn't usually see much and only a pair of sweatpants that didn't hide his boner very well, stood in the middle of that doorway.

— The fuck are you waiting for? — You blinked a few times, feeling his voice travel through every fiber of your body and into your brain as if it were some kind of antidote to any doubts you had previously had.

— W-What? — Your voice faltered and broke in the middle of the question and you felt pathetic in front of the alpha who just glanced at your body for a few seconds and then finished unlatching the door to walk with quick, almost desperate strides and grab your shirt collar with a firm grip before pulling you toward him to the point where your face was only inches away from his and you had to brace your hands against the walls of the hallway to avoid ending up with your lips on his prematurely.

— Don't play dumb with me, Y/N, not now. — His voice sounded even huskier and lower than before, his breath hitching against your cheeks, the smell radiating from his body making you have to mentally shout that Mikey was a problem you didn't want to have to take care of, and his eyes moving from yours to your mouth slowly. — Y'know I need to... — His face tilted in your direction and you tried to push your head back in the opposite direction. — This, from you, dammit.

— No, Mikey, I'm not going to become your little toy like... — The look on his face was enough to make you shut up and get legs shaking some more.

It wasn't as if you were seeing Sano Manjiro who laughed at your mean little jokes. It was a beast that was usually cooped up inside of him.

And the next thing you knew he was tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling your face against his to kiss you with an eagerness and gluttony that made you run out of air too fast.

Manjiro quickly hooked hands around your waist and pulled you, literally: pulled you, into his room before slamming the door. His lips were still on yours, tongue wanting to slide into your mouth and you tried not to return the kiss until you felt his palms slide down your back to reach the collar of your shirt again and start tearing the fabric.

The tatters of your shirt falling to the floor and the bed and being accompanied by your shorts that were not ripped by Mikey, but had the buttons popping open as they were forced open by his nimble fingers. And you didn't want to admit that it turned you on a little, more than you would allow yourself to say out loud.

Maybe it was the Omega inside your conscience burning to give yourself to Manjiro. Maybe the contempt trapped inside you was simply, in fact, pure tension or repressed sexual desire, since you and that Alpha now above you hungrily taking your lips looked like two magnets destined to end up pulling against each other.

It was only a matter of time before he managed to get hands on you.

Your fingers tangled in Mikey's soft hair not knowing whether they wanted to pull his face closer or push him away so that you could regain the air that had escaped your lungs. And just as his tongue managed to slide into your mouth and curl around yours, the sound of some more fabric being torn was heard and you, without having to look to be sure, knew it was your panties because seconds later a warm breeze was hitting your wet folds and newly exposed clit and making you moan against his lips.

His hands felt so warm traversing your body, squeezing your waist and doing the same to your breasts before placing themselves on your thighs and spreading your legs so far apart from each other it almost hurt. His lips parted from yours and a thin line of saliva connected the tip of your tongue to his in almost the same lewd way seconds later his mouth connected with your throbbing pussy as Manjiro slid down your body and felt the all too tempting sweet scent of your intimacy reach his nostrils and finish sweeping away any self-control present in his mind.

And he wanted so badly to take his time eating you out. Licking his lips on your juices and letting his eyes roll up every time you pulled his neatly cropped hair to force his face a little further between your legs. Exactly as you began to do as soon as the tip of his tongue brushed against your swollen clit and applied a little pressure there.

Your almost pathetic Omega body couldn't refuse everything an Alpha like Mikey could offer and make you feel, proof of which were the moans in the shape of "Manjiro" escaping your lips and the way your toes curled in a failed attempt to get some of the tension out of your body.

His room beginning to smell of sex and the essence of its owner. Of your future owner.

Mikey's cock was aching inside his sweatpants and it didn't take long for him to rise up with your juices dripping down his chin to get rid of those pants soon and finally release his shaft almost completely smeared with pre-cum.

"Fuck", was the first thing you thought as the alpha above you grabbed your legs to press them against your breasts in a typical mating press position and your eyes couldn't disengage from how his pink tip was leaking probably more than it would in a sexual situation out of a rut. Your brain struggling between the anticipation of wanting to feel him fully enlarging you and the fear of it hurting more than you expected.

— Mikey, I-fuck! W-Wait! Cannot-- — One of his hands hooked around your mouth to pull your body up until your eyes were directly facing his and, at the same time that this action of his made your stomach flutter even more in anticipation and your breathing quicken, the swollen tip of his cock pressed against your tight entrance and pressed there to start sliding into you.

— You will. — Manjiro spoke in something that was little more than a simple moan mixed into a feral growl and before he really finished penetrating you with his tip, his hips were already thrusting against yours to really widen your walls and finally make his dick fully enter your warm, soft interior until it was kissing your cervix. — Fuck-mhm! — Mikey's head fell back and a long, drawn-out moan escaped from deep in his throat and made you tighten around his shaft. — This, you, fuck. Exactly... ngh what I needed.

The hand that was once over your mouth fell to the middle of your neck in a firm grip that was eventually pressing you against the mattress of the messy bed, his cock beginning to move in and out of your tight pussy as if you were little more than a fleshlight at hand to be used and Manjiro's voice above you escaping through in the form of moans, grunts and the words "You," "tight".

And once he started thrusting harder and harder, with what gentleness he always possessed because he couldn't control himself properly, you could barely make up your mind whether what predominated your body was pain or pleasure. Your muscles were completely spasming and eyes could barely fix or focus on Mikey's sweaty and flushed face above you.

So this is what it felt like to lay with a guy, with an alpha like him? Being used like a ragdoll? To enjoy being treated like that? Goddammit, Manjiro was fucking out of your body any kind of spiteful attitude or contempt you tried to feel for him, putting you in exactly the only possible place you should have always been: beneath him, moaning like you were facing your own heat, with saliva dripping from the corners of the lips and eyes rolling up every time his cock kissed your cervix and his pelvic bone rubbed against your swollen clit.

Your eyes fell on Mikey's ajar lips that were letting out several moans and whimpers and you felt the shame burn inside your cheeks and make you tighten around his dick as you wondered how well they seemed to fit yours. Definitely, the alpha above your body, fucking you in mating press, was driving you completely insane. At what other point in your life had you even thought about wanting to kiss him?

However, he seemed to understand exactly what you wanted, needed. Even without you verbalizing it, even though his mind was too busy being consumed by pleasure and lack of self-control.

Seconds later, one of Manjiro's hands was tangling fingers in your hair and pulling your face up until his mouth was over yours in a heated, needy kiss. And the more time the two of you spent kissing, the more his hips seemed to apply force against yours; eventually the headboard of the bed was slamming against the wall forcefully and adding yet another repetitive, lewd sound to the symphony that until then had only consisted of your moans, the alpha's grunts and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You could feel his dick pulsing against your walls, it was obvious that Mikey was dangerously close to cumming inside you, to filling you completely to the point of leaking, to fucking his little puppies into your womb, to knotting you. And just because of that, babbling and panting in the dumb, stupid format of "Please" and "D-Dont" began to drip from your lips at the same time that Manjiro's mouth slid from your lips and lodged itself on your neck in little bites that were sure to leave marks.

Your hand still hooked in his platinum hair, pulling it as if it were a small incentive for him to continue, for him to carry what he started to the end. Your hips forcing themselves against his.

Oh, marking you. Marking, marking, marking. The only thing besides knotting you present in Mikey's mind was this. He had the right to make you completely his, didn't he? Make you the only possible mom of his puppies, right?

Manjiro wrapped hands around your waist to keep your body still as he continued to pound inside you and then you felt probably the only sensation that you had never gotten to feel until then, during the times you had sex with other people who were Beta. Receiving the teeth of an alpha sinking into the curve of your neck hard enough to make little fillets and droplets of blood spring up and run down your shoulder.

He was literally marking you forever and instead of trying to push him away, as you would have done if you were in full consciousness, your hand simply forced his face a little deeper against your neck.

The spasms that coursed through your body because of Mikey's simple action made you clench massively around his cock and literally end up cumming with such intensity that you almost felt as if your eyesight was going completely blank and mind was almost giving out. The only thing holding you to consciousness was the sound of skin slapping against skin and the feel of his dick fucking you mercilessly.

And just after you had cum completely on his shaft, you felt Manjiro's base swell and become engorged just seconds before his hot cum was spurting straight into your womb and the veins around his dick were pulsing against your walls and making you moan his name out loud. The alpha's hot breath above you slapping against your marked neck and your hands sliding down his back to scratch them until they left welts behind. The feeling of being completely filled was mind-boggling, it almost made you end up cumming again.

Mikey's head falling back as he felt you drain practically every last drop of his fertile cream while several disconnected sounds escaped through his lips. "You", "fuck", "mine", "this".

And one of your hands going to grab hold of Manjiro's hair again to pull him into another kiss. You stupidly felt the need to have him kiss you again, as if it were a testament that the two of you were now each other's and maybe at the moment your mind didn't even realize the gravity of what it was like to be marked and knotted by Sano Manjiro.

As soon as the base of his cock began to deflate and it was possible for Mikey to slowly withdraw from your filled pussy, your head fell back to lean against the soft mattress of his bed and he propped his hands one on either side of your head to stared at your face as breathless as his own. You looked beautiful like that, beneath him, completely fucked up, with your body ruined, almost to the limit.

And this time it was he who resumed the kiss, his arms cradling you in an embrace that you didn't want to think was too affectionate not to end up liking Manjiro more than you wanted to. The panting breaths of the two of you gradually merging until you undid that temporary connection.

But from the hungry and lustful look still present on his face, it was obvious that soon his feral and brutal alpha persona would come back to dominate him again, and your stomach seemed to get butterflies again in anticipation of imagining it.

— I want it again, Mikey... — You spoke trying not to sound as needy or embarrassed as you really were and your eyes swore they saw a small sideways smile draw on his face. — There's no way you can run away from me after today, y’know that, don't you? — One of his hands slid up to grip your chin tightly.

— The only person who was trying to run away from anyone here was you. — Manjiro whispered, running his tongue over lips before sliding fingers to the mark left on the side of your neck as if it were a victory prize. — You're going to be such a good mommy to me, aren't you? If you can handle the next few hours with me I might just consider you my golden Omega. — You swallowed hard before again being drawn into a panting kiss.

ㅤ🏷 tagging: @festive @bontensucker @wakasa-wifey @dukina @manjiroscum @inu1gf @manjiken @rqnslut @manjirosdoll @satmitsuplanet @ravenina14 @saaraunicorn @eriskaitto .

[muffindaddystyles]

DENTIST THE BAD BOI (PART2)

Word Count: 17k.

A/N: Heavily inspired from 90's rom-coms, so if your heart swoons out of loneliness it's not on me sistas -- doctor Harry my fav.

Summary: Y/N's much tolerable when less grumpy then more kissable, more loveable and cuddleable and Harry wants to be more than just fuck buddies that he ends up giving Y/N a tooth ache.

Pairing: Dentist Harry × Artist reader, Frenemies to bestfriends to lovers, platonic affection and loads of bestie fluff, smut and domestic love.

MASTERLIST | REQUEST FOR BLURBS FROM THIS FIC ARE OPEN | PART 1

“Yes. I want you to stay.” She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her words honest and full of plead, she needs him, she wants him, she wants to have him.

Harry’s lips quirks up into a loopish smile at that and he hoists his knee up and above, sinking his palms into her soft mattress besides her temple and blocks the mellow sunshine that peeks through her lace curtains. Her heart squeezes out of her rib-bones and turns gooey somewhere within her insides as her lungs fill with his minty and warm ardour and if she'd be not this flushed and throbbing between her sticky thighs she'd have cracked a dentist joke.

“Y’want me to lick y'cookie f'ye?” He gives her a bunny grin and his fingertips tickles her shoulder; milky skin twinkling at him from the neckline of her shirt that’s barely sitting there and she pouts raising her hands to smack his chest, but he grabs them and tugs her forward, tutting sternly, “I want an answer.” His foresty pupils darkens around rims and her throat turns scratchy. So, she bobs her head up and down eagerly, feeling the metal around his fingers smouldering into her wrist and the thought of it on her clit makes her mewl.

It dings his adam apple sexily and his eyes turn soft and cheeks rosy, Harry doesn’t know what she likes or not so he’s gonna start tentative and careful and gradually ease her into taking big things after, letting her drip onto sheets for hours if she’d like him edging and teasing her.

She watches him with doe-innocent eyes and Harry almost ruts his hips against the mattress from the way his cock twitches weepily -- sensitive against the fabric of his joggers.

He keeps their intense eye contact while sliding back down between her legs and cares his calloused warm palms under the back of her cushiony fleshy thighs and bends her knees up, his eyes flicker towards her tummy that exposes to him when she stretches out gracefully in reaction to his tingling touch.

Making sure she’s alright, his nimble taps her ankle and when she breathes out a whiny “yes.”,

He gropes the insides of her thighs and spreads them apart and presses them down letting her make puny noises when the cool air teases her folds, she smells so good for him, “Already such a puddle, Muffy. G'na gimme a sugar rush from ye'sweetness.” He darts his pink tongue out to moisturize his petal lip and his grunt pleased and heavy upon seeing her gush more arousal just from listening him talk.

He spreads her swollen pussylips apart with his middle and pointer finger and her chin tips towards the ceiling, mouth apart around a gasp when he glints a smirk towards her all while poking his tongue out and flattening it against her clenching entrance and licks her juices up.

“Does it feel good?” He hums nonchalantly nosing at her little button and paints his lips with her wetness. She stays a bit stiff. Not making any move and staying put in her position. Harry takes her clit between his teeth when she whimpers out and her body turns taut, her hands balling at her sides.

“Y've t’use y’words with me, moppet. It works two ways, always.” His hands reaches blindly for her wrists and he puts them over his poof of hair but it remains fisted and he rubs his big hands up and down where her thighs meets her sweet cunt, “Try t’ relax. Can y'do that fo'me, pet?”

His brows pinches together into a frown. His glistening lips from her turning into a grumpy pout when she doesn’t respond — was he unable to make her feel hot and excited? she should tell him if she didn’t like it.

“Y/N ...” He raises his head slowly from between her thighs and his jaw goes slack, his eyes bursting wide seeing her holding her breath and hiding her face underneath her forearm, “Shit. Shit. Y/N!” He’s quickly crawling towards her and sliding his hand under her back, brings her to his chest with his fingers wrapped around the nook of her elbow.

“Breathe, Sweetheart. ‘s okay.” Is this what she was talking about? Is this why she has specific days for touching herself? Poor bambi. He massages her back with tender circles and sighs in relief when he feels her chest calming down back to normal.

“Y/N ...” He pushes her away from shoulders to look down at her sternly and takes her hair into his grasp and slinks them to side, “What’s happenin’ with ye'muffy?” He gives her a downturn of lips and quirk of brow indicating her that there isn’t any escape for this time.

For fuck’s sake! He’s her bestfriend. He should know atleast that she’s alright!

He gauges for her eyes when she presses her palms into his knees and lifts her bum a tad from the sheets, shy embarrassment turning the tips of her ears pink, manipulating her toffee lip in her mouth and Harry pushes back the hair that are falling in her eyes.

She’s feeling hell load giddy and humiliated to tell him this.

Harry startles back, blinking rapidly when she squeaks out in one breath, “’M scared to hurt you!” He pulls her forward with his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and frowns.

His touch with her tender and un-conceit, when usually he’s a domineering in bed and riles them enough for them to beg and moan pathetically for him.

“What? Scared ---.. hurt?” He tries to piece what she said together but it doesn’t make any sense. So, he guesses that he'd have to pry some more from her, “What're ye' talkin' bout muffy?” He sighs noticing the way she clenches the hem of her shirt and mumbles something but Harry’s giving her a piercing glare and it makes her ramble anxiously.

His hand affixed at her skimmed from under her shirt and his thumb keeps on circling her hip-bone.

“’M afraid that I’ll get all horny ‘n loose all my senses and be all rough with you, ending up hurtin'y and I’ll be too engulfed in pleasure that you wouldn’t be able to stop me ....” She fiddles her fingers vigorously in Harry’s hand and he's cutting her with a tut, “That’s the point silly girl.” He chuckles amused at her and she shakes her head whining up at him with a surly expression. The corners of her eyes pinkish and watery from forcing herself to feel the pleasure Harry’s tongue was devoting her.

“But, Harry ‘m not some insatiable monster!!” His heart thuds at the concerned worrisome look on her angelic features and he’s cupping her cheeks, he curses out internally to whoever told her this and his lip grouches up, “You’re not some insatiable monster. Who the fuck fed you this bullshit?” He scolds her and it makes her fleet her gaze away from him.

“You’re not —-... what the fuck, Y/N. Tell me their name so I could break their jaw.” He gasps in shock and he spits in venom. Knuckling at her chin to prop it high infront of him and doesn’t break the cogent eye contact -– his eyes full of hatred and loath for the person.

That damn person who made his Bambi, so insecure and conscious and self-degrading about herself.

“The guy –,” She stutters. He gives her an encouraging hum and she plays with his rings, she knows that he’ll never make fun of her about it and mighty be understanding.

He has always been.

But sometimes he laughs at the worst moments. Not his fault. She has adopted that habit too from living with him.

Right now though. He looks very serious and furious, it creeps heat up her throat.

“The guy I lost my virginity to. He said – he ... umm said that I hurt him when I flipped him underneath me and was being selfish asking him to you know ...?” She mumbles, uncertain if she’s putting it out right and Harry runs his fingers through his curls gripping at the roots and groans in annoyance, properly vexed.

“Firstly muffy. Virginity isn’t a thing. It’s a term made by egoistic men like that prick of a guy, secondly did he make you cum?” His voice tones down gentle and caring. He lays her down and settles her head on the pillow and she's still fisting his shirt in her hands.

He grimaces when she shakes her head, her eyes owlish and glossy pointing down, “Everything was so dry that I wasn’t able to enjoy it ...” She winces remembering it and Harry cradles her face cooing delicately, “Oh Bambi. It was, ‘cos ye' weren’t aroused enough.” But, she’s now. With Harry ontop of her and being all warm and lovey and handling her as if she’s fine china, she could feel gooey wetness sticked to her thighs.

For first time in her life. She feels relaxed and light headed talking about it.

So, she continues, “ .. and it was bit disgusting, he came all over my tummy ‘cos he didn’t have a condom.” At this he grumps, his nostrils flares and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep him sane, “What a cheap bastard!” She giggles at his outrage and he just gives a fluttery smile to her shaking his curls.

He pets the sheen on her cheek away and gazes her sincerely, “You shouldn’t trust everyone and anyone, pet. ‘S a cruel world out there.” The fact that if he’d have came inside her boils Harry’s blood -- she'd have gotten the worst thing happen to her.

He just feels so protective of her. If he’d be able to keep her safe under his shield to scare away bastards like that guy he gladly will.

“Now, hear me Bambi eyed. We never have unprotected sex with strangers and never let ‘em make y’feel bad fo' wantin’ t’be pleasured .. if two people consent fo' it then both ‘ve to fulfil eachother’s desire. Am I clear?” His tone gruff and firm. She suckles her lower lip inside her mouth and nods quickly.

Something about him commanding and lecturing her making a fire fuse in the pit of her tummy and it makes her salivate down a whimper, which sure didn’t go unnoticed by Harry’s side and his lips are quirking into vivacious grin.

He’s retreating back between her legs keeping a cautious gaze on her as if she’s a prey and one move will wither her away, “’N fo’ being rough. I like it rough. Y'could d'all of that with me without being embarrassed.” His smirk dripping with wickedness and Y/N’s head jerks back at the thought of him seeing forward to do more of this with her.

His palm lays sturdy and pressed to her belly, his puckering lips against the inside of her thigh parts around a silent groan when he feels her belly quiver.

He embeds slobbery kisses to where she’s clenched impatiently for him and he pushes his fingers against her clit and slides them up and down between her puffy folds, love creating soppy filthy noises and gives a kitten lap to her then attaches his lip to her smudgy hole murmuring against her breathily to make her feel the electricity till her core.

“Will love havin' ye'tiny fingers pullin' at me hair with a swimy brain. Buckin'y hips into my mouth begging me to ruin yer cunt with my tongue and ‘ave me dancin' on y'palm, extractin’ out glutinous grunty moans within me chest -- it’ll not be just moans, no! —- a viscous toe curlin' sound that’d rumble savagely in my throat a warning fo’ you to keep these gorgeous thighs open fo' me to eat you out as I wish and my large hands will belt ‘round y'waist digging my nails into your dimples when you'll scratch my back ‘n it’ll leave angry marks behind — a reminder fo’ you how much I fuckin' loved you being horny as the deepest burnin' of hells.” She’s panting and sobbing for a cusp of breath manoeuvring her fingers in the tufts of his silky mess of curls and tugs at it and shoves her cunt, grinding against his chin. The softness of his cheeks glittering her bones and she’s falling wider apart from him, and he grins.

Noses at her throbbing clit and sucks it in her mouth and massages her pussy with her own lubrication and how much he picks it on his tongue she’s ready to give him more and he’s moaning with fierce ruby lips wrapping around her fluttering pussy folds, moving his mouth every where and it elicits a choppy whine from her.

“Fuck. Look at'y ... s'innocent but such a dirty little girl fo' me.” He dips his fingers merely into her and swipes up a cardinal push against her spongey wall and treats it back.

It’s too much for, Y/N. Everything. His wanton words better than those audios, his warm tongue on her and the strength of his arms holding her down, his flushed out cheeks and the teasing and teetering he's doing to give her an orgasm that sprays cosmic stars into her fogginess and she doesn’t even know that cloy moans of, “yes.yes.yes.” are dripping from her and he’s boring his face back into her when he latches away from her sweet pussy with the help of his elbow.

“I want you to say it.” There’s pause in the string of her racing heart and her brows hitches in confusion, though he doesn’t give her enough time and moves her pussylips apart letting his nails graze at them gently.

She’s squealing in surprise and jolting up with exhilarating sensation when he spits at her and watches it trickle down her bum, thick and honeyed with lust-fond eyes.

She’s erupting into startled moans when he grunts spitting again and makes her little cunt the messiest thing, “Say it. Say that yer dirty little —-,” She cuts him with a sharp and whiny yawp and plunges her nails into his shoulder making him hiss through his teeth.

“I’m a dirty little girl, f'you. Just you. Just you. Just you ....” Her voice tones down into coy whispers stuffed to the pillow as her body anchors stintingly from her bed and Harry’s hand slides from her torso down her ass and gropes at it keeping her coupled to his mouth as she coats his chin and his lips and his cheeks with her cum and his own spit and he’s murmuring grittily, “Yeah moppet. Mhmp. Come in me mouth. Fill it all, such a good girl.” He nips and tucks at her making her satiate through her high and places a kiss to her clit for the last time when she thrashes from sensitiveness before moving away.

“Sensitive lil thing ye'r.” He murmurs rubbing her thighs to coax her down and feels goosebumps prick on her skin, glances up and finds her a beautiful colour of pink and peach and her hair nested as a halo on the pillow.

She’s just so beautiful in many ways, it aches his heart.

He’s flopping to her side and poking her cheek earning a tick of ravenous smile and he watches as her irises moves under her closed lids.

“That was ... hmm.” She hums sluggishly knuckling at her eyes and Harry muses out a chuckle, before she could come up with a dentist joke he's cracking it himself sensing her gears working in that tiny head of hers, “Very filling?” That makes her hide her face into his neck and giggle.

“Yeah. Could say that.” She rests her chin on his shoulder and poses her brows questioningly when his stuffy pocket pokes at her thigh, “What’s that?” He didn’t realise he was too swamped in admiring the specks of her hazelness pouring with sunlight and he’s blinking back to re-start himself.

“Oh! This ..?” He’s taking out it slowly and she’s whining and shaking him to hurry up and he’s giggling at how impatient she could get when curious.

She holds it infront of her and it’s a cute green beanie with a little gucci embroidered at where it gets folded and her smile dejects when Harry speaks, “One of my colleagues gifted me this as a birthday present.” Why didn’t she thought about gifting him this for his birthday? Not that she has money for Gucci but they've been celebrating for three years and not once she didn’t get an idea that he wears beanies alot and mighty would like it?

Anyway, it’s far better than the painting of snowy and a mason jar filled with candy wrappers having her appreciations and dentist jokes written to their backside she gifted him, Y/N pouts thinking how she could’ve get him something useful.

Harry doesn’t care about materialistic things. He says that you could buy them anytime and that money is just the murk of your palm, it goes away in one wash -- the little shows of affection always are by your side in hard times.

“Hey Muffy...” He's yawning nudging her side noticing how she zones out and away from him, “D'ya have some chamomile tea?” Her chin slips from her shoulder at the sudden rasp.

“What? Why?” She gazes him. His body slumpy and tired over her and his mouth ajar cutely, she scratches his scalp lightly and swears that he let out the softest purr.

“Was in the operation theatre fo' hours now, just came from there -- emergency case. It was bad.” He emphasizes it getting a lisp a bit and she sits up closer to him.

“What happened to the person? She asks hoping they’re okay and have any hopes for recovery.

He just fiddles away the beanie from her grip and covers her head with it folding and adjusting it over her ears, “Not tellin' ya ...” He murmurs rubbing his nose into her arm and sniffs her saccharine scent. He knows that she doesn’t take the stories from his workplace well and it keeps her awake at nights, then she’s visiting the patient herself and Harry have to drag her out of his hospital every damn time.

She cares too much. Even for strangers. She’s too kind for her own sake and Harry thinks sometimes being selfish should be the latter option.

He squints open his one eye feeling her gaze fixated on him and huffs a lil, his little stubborn bambi, she wouldn’t let it go, “Fine. They were comin' back from a party and were high maybe -- car crashed badly dentin' towards the passenger’s side ‘n totally dislocated her jaw, now y’promise me you aren’t gettin' too worrisome ‘bout her because she’s okay.” Saying this he's cuddling back into her and she smiles a bit petting his back.

“Whatever, you say Dr. Styles.” He didn’t even need a tranquilizing tea anymore. Her warmth and squishiness was more than enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

..

It’s an otiose Saturday morning. Harry and Y/N just gobbled down oatmeal she made (topped with kiwis, mangoes and strawberries Harry brought from market and threw the bag in her lap) it had too much of coconut and sugar layer than necessary, according to Harry.

While she cleaned the countertops Harry fed and kissed the crowns of each one of their cat, yet again they were left with nothing to do —- that's how Y/N ended up straddling his waist, his jaw fit in her palm and his eyes half-open funnily as she applies a liner at his lid with her pink tongue poked out in concentration.

“Stop movin’,” She snits out in a huff and the skirts of his lips alleviates up into a cheeky evil grin, his hands pawing at her hips and his intentionally dirty gaze flitters down where her nipples are perking from the flimsy shirt and almost presses to his throat, “How'm supposed to when y’tits are ready to lactate me mouth?” Blush creeps up at her cheeks at his overweening and she wanted to give out an “Oh.” Instead grips his baby curls and steadies him, squishing his cheek in doing so as if he’s her toy.

“You better shut up, or ‘m gonna shove my feet up that smug mouth of yours.” She grumps to her own self when her fingers begins to twitch feeling her ear fill with hotness, “And what makes y’think ‘m not into that?” He rockets his brows priggishly with a grin that just screams he’s about to have a upper hand in this banter of their.

“Harry you disgraceful, man!” She whines trying to pull his face upright – he’s doing it on purpose trying to push her buttons and his eyes widens in feign hurt, “’M a very holy man!” His one eye adorned with charcoal coloured liner making him look adorable.

He’s far from any of that. They both know it. He’s a nerd slut if Y/N could put into words correctly.

“Yeah. Holy piece of a shit.” She grumbles pressing her bent knee into his side and quips a happy “Tada!!” grabbing the little from beside him and almost shoves it in his face demanding him to look at himself.

Harry brings his lips together and whistles looking at himself, “My murals should be painted everywhere in the city,” Y/N rolls her eyes. Nibbling down a scoff at his narcissism desperate to jump out and points at herself with a shrug of shoulders -- silently trying to telepath with him.

“What?” He murmurs nonchalantly angling his face to have a better look at him.

“Where’s the praise for artist?”

“Why need't when y'know ‘m an art myself.” His rims shine shamelessly and he nips the flesh of his cheek to stifle down a bashful cackle at her retort.

“You’re being too bold for a person who combusts in his pants just by getting his back scratched.” She arches her brow pruriently at him and he shakes his head, brushing the belly of his nose with his knuckle and when he gazes back at her -- she knows that she’s fucked fucked.

“Says who. The dirty little girl who's sitting on her bestfriend’s cock in her panties and shirt that’s doin’ nothin' but makin'y nipples button out shamelessly.” He tuts carnally, sinking into the plush cushions and man-spreads himself so wide Y/N could feel him pressing between her folds. His smirk rottenly sinful and evil and Y/N's palm automatically jams against his torso with a weepy mewl forehead falling against his clavicles.

She wanted to argue that he’s clad in boxers too but all of her sanity went out of the window when he teasingly grinded their crotches together.

“Y'want t'be treated like a bunny, who loves to hop on dick and fucked till you’re just a soft mush -- don't ya?” His hoarse drawl makes her bob her head eagerly making him chuckle and she’s tightening her thick thighs around his waist, hiding her face into the dive of his nice warm smelling neck and keeps her lips sponged to his skin making him grip on her hips with brutal force.

She’s just so sweet to Harry. A hot pink puddle at his mere touch and all clingy to him, shrinking into him with shyness and all of this just stirs his cock angrily sensitive.

He’s always getting a stiffy thinking about her and her honeyed taste he got to lap on and he's always smelling one of his pillows that has her fragrance loaded on it, while cupping his balls and stroking his cock lazily and hard, with other.

Though his assertive words wavers into a whimperish groan when Y/N takes her face out and gazes him with doe-warm eyes, “I w'na make you feel good.” Harry throbs under her and fattens against his own belly and feels her soaking against his boxers.

“Y'do? ‘s okay —.” His chest heaves with ragged breathes from anticipation and yearn and he knows that taking care of himself would be a torture if she’d tell him a, “no.” But then he isn’t that of a prick and is awfully happy to get what he’s getting, their infinite proximity.

His head teeters back and his pelvis buckles up when she clutched the hem of his sweatshirt and uttered a poutsih, “please..” She’s nourishing a breath and gazing up at him with glossy chocolate eyes blabbering while swivelling herself slowly ontop of him, “You’re looking s' pretty and cato eyes -—.. and you’re stuffed against me s'good. I want –- I want to make y'feel amazing.” Harry’s choking a growlish moan and the urge to just throw her on couch and snug his large cock deep within her.

Her brows pinches together and she has him grabbed from shoulders while she looks between them, listening to his purry hisses and lewd moans, it makes her redden her lip –- she could see his bulbous sherbet coloured tip coated in his own arousal wrestling out of his boxers as the fabric bunches and loosens down with each stroke of her cunt against him.

“Y'want to make me feel, amazin'? Fuck. You’re devastatin' me love -- yeah, mhmph hump me prick moppet.” Her eyelids lust filled and she moans against his chin as he breathes out a euphoric smile and Y/N gains a new confidence pushing herself down on his cock harder and firmer and faster.

The fabric of his boxers tickling his wet slit and he’s smushing his cheek into her soft chest, hugging and murmuring nonsense against her when Y/N sneaks her hand down and fills her hands with his heavy cum loaded balls and Harry doesn’t know how she was able to press him under the pad of her pinky in a span of minute.

Because he’s begging all for her mercy.

He howls a whine when she sucks his earlobe wetly and grazes it to speak in the sweetest yet licentious seductiveness and Harry’s almost naked under her, “Jeez. Hmm. Yes, just like that –- Bambi. My Bambi. Makes me feel — oh fuck!” His knuckles white from where he's groping the cheek of her ass and guiding her where her mound nudges him more good and drafts him straight to heaven.

“Tell me, huh. Who’s the dirty one now?” She smirks squeezing his balls yanking the sweaty ringlets on the base of his neck and they’ve their bodies on eachother, their hands on eachother and Y/N had an audacity to compete.

He’s trashing his spine into a curve and pulling her back down on his dick. She squeals when his cock grazes her pantie line and slips up and down against her cushiony thigh slobbering it with his pre-come.

“Me, me! Fuck .. pet, ‘s me ...” His hand tightens around her ribs and his hand tightens around her ribs and he’s dragging her back and forth -- socked toes curling and teeth gnawing at the pudding of her cheek. His thighs quaking and his strong forearms brings her closer to his chest, as the pressure coils in his stomach and the gentle caress and guttural bite on the slop of his collarbone was enough to burst spurts of cum in his boxers and it quenches onto his tummy and to the inside of her thighs making a sloppy mess.

“Shit.” He mutters through a chuckle. His chin butted atop her head and she giggles moving away.

Her shirt ridden up, her panties bunched up into her ass-cheeks and Harry admires her with a celestial flush on his skin and she circles her fingers together.

She just rode his prick dry and looks like she did the most innocent thing in the world.

“’M g'na go clean myself.” Harry smiles at her squealing pitch and then realization dawns upon him, she’s talking about his jizz on her tickling her skin getting flustered and knackered feeling it. Though, it’s not only his jizz but her panties are drenched into her own salvation making it see through and her wet pussy on display.

He just gulps and nod, like an atta puppy.

..

Lavish green leaves rustles together, the soil of green-belt moist and watered recently, early morning sky swirls of blues and it’s beautiful it really is the weather isn’t too sunny – the silence in his car is comforting too and the rum of his breath makes her feel nostalgic.

But, she wanted to sleep her arse off on Sunday and do nothing and be proud of being idle whole day. Harry had different plans though –- he was jumping on her bed making her wobble on it in her sleepy state and dragged her to washroom how much she whined and fought with him.

“Oh. C’mon now, muffin .. it’ll be fun, Ni would be there too.” He tries to reason her and she just brings her knees up into her and closes her eyes, muttering in monotone.

“Nothing’s fun about golfing, Harry.” It’s little get together of his colleagues and the doctors from his hospital and Harry thought he'd die from boredom if he wouldn’t bring her with him, he isn’t one bit of interested into old men talking about how their third wife drools over them – he isn’t very fond of lies.

“Not even me? How could y’say no to me?” He gasps dramatically. Scrunched his nose and twitches his lips in fake offend.

She opens her eyes for a moment and stares at him, “Just like that,” Pinches his elbow and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Harry, no.”

“Yeah, Whatever.” He rolls his lips between his fingers and takes a turn and when they reach he's putting sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, unfolding her arms that are wrapped around herself and nudges her to be less grumpy.

“’Ve a reputation yeah .. be less frumpy.” She pokes her tongue out and Harry lurches his hand forward scaring her that he'd grab it.

“Those dilfs already kisses the tips of my shoes.” She hops out of the car and clasps her hands atop of her head stretches out and yawns out loudly.

Harry’s head perks up alarmingly at that from the boot of his car and he swings the golfing kit on his shoulder and rolls his eyes from under his sunnies, pushing her forward with a small hand on her back.

“Yeah, more like grandpas.” The thought just makes him feel icky and utterly gross – imagining those old doctors —- no he completely wants to brain wash himself.

“Bet, their willies would need heavy assistance —-,” He’s grinning abrasively down at her and she winced swatting his chest, “Harry!” She’s wiggling out of his hold and striding towards where Niall is waving them in utter excitement.

Harry pouts and stomps behind her, calling out for her to slow down and scowls when a grin makes a way at her face as Niall hugs her.

Niall showed her his little nips and tricks. While Harry looked at them with needy eyes from far stuck between the bunch of boring doctors and dentists and his lips visibly downturns when Niall trips and Y/N’s falling on her bum, clutching onto her side with a belly aching laugh.

Ni helps her stand back and it was when a women in pink sports short and Nike tee trudged towards them and Harry at the same moment and Y/N just stares with confusion as they hug and she’s smiling up at him brightly.

“Sorry. I lost the time check.” Harry’s parting away with a shrug, “Not tha' somethin’ special occurred.” and Y/N’s doe-curious eyes remains fixed on them and he's introducing the unknown women to her and Niall’s poking her side to revive her back to mighty world.

“Muffy? She’s one of my colleagues, Holly.” Y/N startled a bit then gives out a nervous smile forwarding her hand to shake it with her and Holly’s pony flails comically from the action.

Soon, she’s turning her attention back towards Harry and smiling up at him questioningly, “Did you rest well after leaving the hospital on Friday?” Y/N just fumbles with Harry’s rings on her knuckles -- not sure if she should go back to golfing with Niall or stay to take part in little conversation because Niall is growing very antsy.

“Yeah. I did, actually .... very well if y'ask so,” Harry's shimmering gaze lurks back on Y/N and she internally groans when he smirks remembering the event and she wants to glare him from the side of her eye.

She’s stepping aside quickly when Holly passes by them and towards the table full of breakfast and beverages.

She pours two cups of coffee and adds two teaspoon of sugar, handing one to Harry and Y/N wants to retort that he doesn’t like coffee and hell not that amount of sugar.

“And Y/N what would y'like coffee, tea?” Holly asks her and Y/N just chuckles gingerly when Harry looks ike he's about to gag when he takes the first sip.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Holly looks like she just saw the end of the world and Y/N holds back from rolling her eyes at her, she's giving her an aura that she doesn’t like Y/N even a bit.

“No? Why?”

“Guess I never needed that much caffeine, my job doesn’t require staying up late and all that ...” Holly sips on her coffee and leans against a chair raising a her brow at her and then asks.

Her style being uptight and arrogant just not sitting right with, Y/N.

“What is your profession?” This ferals Y/N into her thinking pot, is that even a profession? She doesn’t really know and she’s in her own headspace when Harry’s soft eyes worms back to his bambi and his eyes glints with ever proud and his smile toothy and bunny as he puts the cup aside speaking with a hint of fond.

“She’s an artist. A very talented one.” Holly arches her brow at him and hums then looks back at her -- as if she didn’t heard him right.

“So, you make art for living?”

“I do it beacuse I like doing it, just like you.” Y/N chips up and Harry just thinks his admiration grows terribly more every day for her -- because of the passion about anything she holds in that big heart of hers, the way her cheeks rubies up and brows sets into concentration.

That shuts Holly and her train of personal irritating questions.

“Hey! We aren’t here fo' some princess tea party -- can we please, go back to golfing!?” Niall finally bursts like a balloon from annoyance and Y/N's giggling and hooking her arm into his elbow, “You’re sucha cry baby.” She coos and tries to walk him back to pitch but then her gait stutters when Holly asks Harry in an expectant tone.

“Did you like my present?” Why does it layers her chest with mucky awful feeling, her stomach itself tottering and she just huffs thinking how that present sits in her drawer and she’s the one that wears it instead of Harry.

“Oh, I liked it, thank you.” Fucking liar. Y/N just shakes her head and chuckles ironically because he forgot about it the moment he gave it to her.

Y/N’s toes itches with an impulse to expose Harry infront of her.

Where’s that feisty Harry ready to bite anyone expect her and his little group of friends? What did this job do to him? Oh my goodness! Why Y/N is hating all of this so much, why why why!?

Y/N's completely being an over dramatic (she knows that) but she couldn’t help but be bitter about this Holly “oh I could woo Harry just by giving him some beanies from an overly expensive brand.” Gahk! Not in a millennia.

“’Kay, pet now you make yer goal.” Niall shouts squinting to get rid of sunlight in his eyes and Y/N was so engulfed in thinking of how the slight interest and undivided attention of Harry towards Holly makes her feel woozy and something that’s indescribable, until now. That’s when someone came behind her bended figure she – almost making her squeal but he’s shushing her sweetly -- the corner of his lips pressing to the side of her hairline and he takes in her fresh lilies scent.

Two soft beautiful boned structure hands comes raking from her shoulders down her wrists, jostling her almost as he wraps his hands around her sweaty ones and brings the golf club back in air.

“Let's fill those holes together,” His smooth rasp prickles the hair on her body in a most stinging way and she's subsiding down a blush, frowning and unfrowning to concentrate back on playing -- but it’s a fucking torture when his bulging member prominent from his tight little shorts lines up against her bum teasingly.

He was very aware of the big problem that stood between them and she’s turning with his arms still on either side of her -- doing a little knocking on his chest to gain his attention.

“You’ve —-... umm ..” She stammers. Cheeks peachy and her smile nervous. Harry hums in dither gazing down at her softly and that flusters her to living heavens.

Then his eyes follows where she’s staring in curiosity and gentleness and as if she’s ready to take him in her mouth right then and there.

He’s got a stiffy and that in public!

“Oh shit. Sorry, I wasn’t awa —-,” He's creating a little distance between them but she’s quick to grab the hem of his shirt and pulling him closer back to her, “No. No. ‘s okay. I could ‐—.. I could help you ....,” She mutters in a tizz with a hitchy breath and Harry’s dimples indents, cushy smile dancing on his lips and his pinky’s swiping the loose tresses behind her ear.

“If you want to...” She doesn’t know what’s making her more anxious the fact he'll brush her off or that he'll accept her help, but this latter option fills her insides with gales of mushiness and it makes her unsettle her footing.

“I’d love that.” He grins and she’s smiling up at him and Harry screams internally like a teenager at how she manages to be so tender and silken like a gorgeous doll in the most filthiest situations.

He keeps her infront of him to hide the potential tent in his shorts that appeared from no-where, he's being sly and clearly knows that where it came from --- from gawking her peach ass till it wasn’t printed in his mind and he didn’t even know when he was drooling at the thought of squishing her asscheeks and rolling his thumb against her puckering hole and imagining her cute lil whines for him to bore down his thumb into her till she feels his lion ring against her flesh, throwing her hips at him more —- shut up!

Though when the group of men stops them with their evil gazes on his little bambi and they’re smirking up at Harry in mischievousness, “Where you sneakin' Y/N too?” They hollered and Harry had to ball his hand on her hips and bite back from rolling his eyes sharply and rudely,

Because who the fuck they’re to ask? He could take her anywhere and why they do act like they fucking know Y/N from summat eternity, that makes him want to snap at these snobs and warn them not to ever take a step near her.

Ofcourse, he’s very well aware that their intentions towards his sweet bestfriend are evil and filthy -- he wants to punch each one of them at that.

“Just to show ‘er the lake behind,” He's giving them a tight lipped smile and leaving them baffled without giving them more to talk and Y/N giggles at his huffy-ness and pets his knuckles feeling his skin beginning to fume and turn hot against her neck.

Moments later, he's sitting on the bench of empty steam room carmine lips parted and plush are mooched to Y/N's upper belly, his long arms tipsy around her thighs and hair floppy caramel and his palm splays on the side of her waist under her shirt coveting his nails lightly into her pudgy skin – as her soft hand stays dipped into his shorts and she strokes him in gradual pace.

He’s jerking back hitting his head against the vertical mirror that covers the whole wall when she presses her thumb into his palpating tip of cock to coax out his white stickiness and uses it to coat and lube his dick and caress it, “’S’okay c’mere, honey. You’re okay.” She coos cupping the nape of his neck and brings him back to let him bury his face into her pulpy body and kisses his hair, sliding her hand under his jaw to soothe him.

Harry moans uncontrollably and tries to muffle them with choked sobs upon hearing her go all soft on him and he thinks, “honey” Is his new favourite word from now on coming from her mouth and he wants to be called honey from her all the time.

She doesn’t know where the confidence of sweet talking to him came from but the menace for Holly and her being overly sugary with him, just poked her in weird place and she wants to claim where he belongs.

To her.

Always her.

“Bet, your big cock was all achy and weepy for my attention.” She pouts slopping all the way down to his chubby shaft and tightens her grip jerking him speedily. Harry bobs his head vigorously and eagerly hugging her ever close and babbles wetly so she scratches his scalp and almost raises her hips into him when his happy and satisfied mewls fuses into her ears.

“Been —-.. been, fuck!” He gasps bolting shut his eyes when she widened her slick palm down and massaged his heavy taut balls – shaking them playfully with a giggle bitten down her throat, “Been thinkin' ‘bout you whole lot – yer such a doll.” He sighs and she sponges a peck to the side of his forehead.

“Yeah?” Her eyes glints with adore and meekness for him and when he nods with euphoric slipped eyes and rosy cheeks snuggling himself into her she mighty cried a lil.

“G’na cum for me? In my hand? Been treating you so good, honey. Love your cock –- always oozy and slick for me and your moans —- can y'moan fo' me? Show them on whose pinky you’re wrapped on.” She’s breathless but the tenderness and fondness in her voice never fades and Harry’s almost tomato grinding his hips on the bench fucking himself into her palm and brags his teeth together hissing through it.

“G'na cum. G’na cum fo'y and —- oh!” Guttural heavy loud moans are eliciting down his tongue and he’s groaning and whimpering and thrashing under Y/N shooting his gloopy spunk inside her palm and she doesn’t stop, coating his whole eternity with his own cum and digs out some more droplets from his tummy to soak into the pride that she’s the reason he’s this fucked up and ravenous and shaking under her.

She’s throwing her legs on either side of his thighs next and he’s gazing at her intensely from under his thick lashes with lovingness all slumped against the mirror and she’s ducking down to stitch her nose up against his nose and giving him an eskimo kiss and Harry’s lips accommodating back for a nice breather are tingling to lean in and place them on hers in a dotting heart swarming kiss but a knock's interrupting them and she’s quipping back a squeal and jumping on her toes.

Guess she'd just clean her fingers by licking them since there’s no water.

..

Y/N was painting one of her commission works and for her coming exhibition when Truggers came meowing at her and scraping onto floor, “What d'you want bub?” She asks wiping her fingers on the rag and puts the brush into water cup.

She follows Truggers to their bassinet and almost slips straining her ankle from rushing panicked towards Tum who's jerking in his sleeping position.

She hawks in shock, fear and trembling horror. Her ears deafening. She’s shouting at him and shaking him with tears in her eyes, “Tums? Tummies? Baby!! Wake up!” She cries but the cat doesn’t respond.

“No. No. No!!” She shakes her head sobbing loudly bringing her knees up to her chest and holds her head in her hand not knowing what to do, she calls Rori and she doesn’t even know how much time passed and Rori's hugging her and comforting her taking other kittens to room so they don’t see Tums.

“Call Harry! Call him, please, please, please .... Rori ....” She sobs feeble and painful into Rori's neck and she shushes Y/N. She really tries to but she knows that only Harry could manage to calm her down and she rings him many many times but he doesn’t pick up.

“Harry! I’ve been calling you for ages for fuck’s sake where are you?” So, when he's excusing himself telling that he was having lunch and Holly’s voice is booming through Rori's phone Y/N’s heart drops and shatters into gazillion pieces.

She may not be in right mind, but she’s seriously hurt because Harry never in million years ignore her calls.

Guess having lunch was far important than her or her calls.

It just makes her cry more.

“Wait. What’s happening?” Goosebumps layers on his skin when he hears Y/N crying and he walks away without telling Holly he’s heading out.

“Harry ... Tums, he died in his sleep.” Harry halts in his tracks. Staring at the parking sign blankly and his eyes fills with tears and his breath shudders as he tries to speak, “’M coming.”

..

Rori left and took Tums with her after tucking Y/N in bed and making sure she’s okay.

Her ears perks up when the door clicks softly accompanied by low sniffles and it pools more moisture in her eyes and the tears trick down her chin and onto pillow — because hearing him cry is just so agonising.

“Muffy ...” The mattress dips behind her and he’s scooching close to her planting his cheek against her shoulder.

His warmth melts her but she recoups wiping her eyes dry and wavers in a thorny voice, “Go away.” She distances herself from him and turns stiff.

“Moppet, please ...” He protests and she hampers herself from snapping at him.

“Go away, Harry. Leave!!” She's muffling her cries into pillow and when she faces him – Harry's chin wobbles because his muffy looks terrible and awfully sad and it’s breaking him weakly and perfectly.

“Why don’t y'go back to whatever you were doing with Holly!” She gasps moistly for a breather and Harry stands up, nose red and runny and eyes bloodshot.

“Jus’ say yer’ jealous.” He wants to be fierce with her about what she said but his voice barely comes out without being shaky and his heart is full of sorrow.

“And if I say I’m, then what?” She’s pathetically hiccupping (continuously) so much her neck hurts and she has never sound so uncertain and pleading and expectant to know if he might love her?

That if there’s something more between them than just providing eachother pleasure and being eachother’s missing half when they were lonely.

More, than just two bestfriends being eachother’s back of the hand.

He doesn’t respond and she shouts for him to stop and answer her and throws a cushion towards him, but he just leaves her to it.

Harry’s just worried she isn’t ready to take either of his confessions well.

..

Snowy sits in her lap. Max and Luna (Rori's girlfriend) are wrestling onto the mattress they took from Harry's bed and laid on the floor, (which he'd grump about when he'll be too pissy to move it back in the late night).

He’s been cranky and acting proper ratty with anyone and everyone he comes to interact with since that day.

He felt like his world turned upside down because now everything’s just against him, his milk gets soggy every morning and all of his socks and hoodies are at his little thief's home and snowy takes revenge from him for hurting Y/N by pissing on his shoes everytime he’s about to leave.

Cherry on creamy top!

He just couldn’t stop thinking about his bambi and might have chewed his fourty years old assistant ears with his rambling of Y/N and his endearment for her and unfortunately he just ficked up bad.

“’M so hungry. If Ni will cheat another round on me, I’ll be munching on his toes!!” Y/N exclaims huffing out and kicking Niall in shin as they were playing Mario cart and he’s been winning for an hour just by his cheating tricks.

They all got together after many days at Harry’s flat while he was at the duty and he promised them that he’d bring pizzas with him and now it’s almost 12 and they’re waiting and waiting in anticipation for him to arrive.

When the door knob jiggles everyone’s jumping up and scrambling closer to the door because they all are that hungry and Harry’s hands are piled with pizza boxes, soon their hungry excited expressions are dulling into annoyance and viscid displeasure when Holly peeks from behind Harry.

Still all of them manage to plant fake smiles and everyone’s greeting her.

“What took you guys s'long?” Y/N speaks lowly through a forced smile the one that doesn’t reaches her eyes and doesn’t make them appear as they are pools of earthly soil, “Oh .. we just stopped to buy some muffins -- Harry told me how much you like them, Bambi.” Oh fuck. There goes the pressure cooker blasting and rattling through each and every wall of this room and the tension thickens around and Luna's coughing and everyone is just treading back to their spots awkwardly and with disappointed sorry sighs for Holly because if before Y/N didn’t hold a grudge against Holly now she’d.

Because, for fuck’s sake!!! Nobody, calls her that except Harry!

It was their own intimate little sweet love name that Harry calls her and her only.

Not even their friends.

Not even Niall.

Just him.

Him.

Him.

And.

Him.

Now, she just came from out of the fucking blue and popped their bubble of intimacy and Y/N feels like one of those anime characters where they've a frown hanging on their head larger than their size and there’s fire enveloping them before she bursts out in rage and scream at Holly and Harry too.

She sighs. She’s far better than creating a scene and gladly accepts the box of muffins from Holly whose smile is overly sugar coated and this is what Harry says when he tells her he doesn’t like sugar in much amount – it’s irksome, Y/N’s talking about humans specifically.

“’s not even my favourites.” She mumbles staring at the vanilla strawberry muffins and Holly just shrugs and Harry gets tensed keeping his voice hushed while Rori and Him unboxes the pizzas in the kitchen, “Just thought a change would be good.” Y/N’s throat clogs up just at that. She finds it hard to even gulp down the piercing emotions piling up there.

Y/N just hates changes.

Holly wants to change everything about Harry and his surroundings, even this dinky flat he lives in —- he’s a dentist why’d he live here?

Holly tries not to grimace.

“You know Y/N hates changes, Harry I know that you guys might not be serious but we all are well aware that you too —-- fuck, Harry! Why are you fucking it up!” Rori whisper yells at him as they throw the empty boxes frantically and hurriedly to go back to living room and handle the situation before it gets out of hand.

“Ontop of that. Why did ya bring, Holly with you!? She isn’t ... well she isn’t much par to any of our likings.” Harry just runs his hands through his curls and he knows that it’s afflicting Y/N, his baby muffy who wouldn’t even see him in eye since that incident and he really wishes that all of this ends soon.

“What d'I do!? she’s my staff head and I’ve to play nice to her.” He squeaks out in a bit panic and he’s exhausted and tired and really running out of his Bambi's cuddles but she wouldn’t even let him set foot in her flat.

Even though how much he argued that, “Remember y’said this’s our one big home? Well I could be in me home whenever I want.”

Though when they're out with bright smiles and announcing that food is here, acting as if him and Rori didn’t just had an ASMR argument in kitchen.

Harry’s heart. The each chamber of his heart got cut up into pieces and fell somewhere in his stomach when he hands the plate to Y/N and she takes it without meeting his eyes, starving him off her sweet butterflies wooshing smile and tries to avoid from getting any physical contact between their fingertips and cuddles back into Ni's side as if she’s utterly cold.

She’s jealous and hurt and furious that Harry has mighty revealed their intimate nitty gritty details to Holly.

All of that aside. She’s very sad and lost and feels lonely all over again because she has no-idea that what are they, where they stand out of their bestfriends bubble and if whatever happened between them was fever dream?

“What happened, pet? Not hungry? Y'were ‘bout to munch us alive seconds ago.” Niall chuckles gingerly and nudges her as she just hovered her pizza on her plate and never brought it to her mouth.

Harry wipes his hand on his jeans listening that and Holly’s side eyeing him gauging for his reaction and her face hitches up into displeasure when he stands up and strides towards Y/N in two long steps.

“D'ya want another flavour? Is it cold? We could order somethin' else if you want to ....” His voice caring and antsy and he’s contemplating whether to sit beside her and coax her to eat but she’s chewing onto it and shrugging, speaking with a mouth full and yet again never sparing him a single glance.

“No, ‘m good.”

Holly judges Y/N’s battiness and locks up the urge to roll her eyes at this girl who Harry’s so whipped for -- she could ramp him under her feet (which Y/N would never – Holly’s just a mean ass who likes to think negatively about everyone) and he'd still beg her to do it all over again.

Holly just loves to be a victim in situations where she doesn’t even have a role, but still tries to fit in as a victim.

The truth is. She wants Harry bad. And, it’s all written clear on her face.

Their hang out didn’t take the route they planned for it to be and Y/N was heading out early conscious of Harry’s gaze on her all the time when Rori yelled enthusiastically with a bright proud grin, “Everyone's invited to Y/N's painting exhibition on Sunday, aren’t we Y/N!?”

Harry’s head snaps towards each of his friends like a lost puppy and when all of them are smiling and nodding their heads in agreement his eyes just brawls out and he feels like crying and throwing a tantrum because she didn’t tell him about it! and even if not, he didn’t got a chance to be the first one to tell her how proud he’s of her.

Rori winces when Harry rushes behind Y/N and the door's shutting behind leaving them in awkward silence again.

“You didn’t care t’tell me? ‘s such a big mo' fo'y.” He scowls. Folding his arms infront of his chest and Y/N grumbles stomping her feet onto floor.

“You were too busy —-..”

He knows what’s about to come next. The taunt and fight and something heartbreaking that’d slip from their tongues and hurt them brutally and part them away, “Baby.” He’s sighing rubbing the knot on his forehead and him calling her baby was enough to mush her into a candy floss.

“Yell at me. Punch me. Brake me nose. D'ye thing but pleaseee don’t gimme a silent treatment ...,” His eyes glossy and Y/N kinda feels remorseful and she might not give into him that easily but she isn’t to be blamed because she’s just so putty in his embrace and he could win her heart all over again as many times he wishes.

Though when she’s speaking to him after long period of four days and nine hours and cursing him out he’s still very thankful and gleeful grinning and scooping her up in his arms, “You’re a downright asshole you know that? One of our baby cat died and you were too busy havin' lunch with that, witch.” She isn’t hiding her hatred for Holly anymore and Harry cackles infuriatingly loud and brushes his cheek against her neck.

“’M sorry. Not g'na do tha' evea' again swear on me life.” He mumbles coherently.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He’s hooking their pinkies together and kissing them to seal the affirmation.

..

Harry loves BDSM. Something he explored upon lurking around a sex club when he was right about to turn eighteen, of which oh so Y/N's savvy about from all those nights where she could be able to hear guys and girls howling like they got fucking murdered even sitting in the farthest cubby of her own home.

She'd not argue to him about that because of her shyness and second the music that she used to blast through speakers while painting, so they were equal.

He was quite peculiarly never interested in having romantic relationships with people -- he was just interested in what’s between their legs and sometimes their mouth.

But with Y/N. With Y/N he wants to make love to her. Lit sweet warm scenting candles that’d sheen their skins with ardour and have vases filled with flowers and cook her a dish she likes – then they share a glass of wine (optional) if they want to remember it all.

He wants to have every nice and warm thing with her, things he never got to experience.

He wants to love.

To love her.

He never really exposed himself to words like amity, adoration and intimacy. Thinks that those words are too big for his heart which’s too compact for someone to build a home in.

He hated certain stuff. On purpose. Like scrabble when his father and his friends made fun of him for liking scrabble and he kicked that shit so hard it tensiled into space — or he thinks so because he never saw it laying on his childhood floor ever after that.

Then again, Y/N came into his life and brought his scrabble back (teased him that she stole it from some kid that lives downfloor) they play whenever they could and ends up fighting everytime because, zzz isn’t a word but Harry claims it is for people who snores like they're gonna choke into their pillow next moment.

He hated interacting with people. Don’t even have an idea how he got these bunch of maniacs as his friends and then Y/N, he just thinks she’s made specially for him only carved from the cream of tenderness, beauty of love and sent upon to him like an Angel.

Harry hates sugar. But, yet again he likes no scratch that -- he loves Y/N so it doesn’t even matter.

At the moment when he’s crowded by gushing and whispering and laughing people. Praising and chatting and loving on his Bambi —- he feels like the word hate never existed in his life because all he could feel his heart is floating in copious amount of love for his Bambi as he stands in the corner letting his eyes admire her in affection.

He takes a sip of white wine from his glass and hisses when plays with his earlobe out of instinct and ends up prodding himself from where he pierced his ear two hours ago.

A smile so tiny but full of elation and lilac-ness twirls on his relaxed face upon reminiscing it – his eyes falling at her trousers and he gives himself an imaginary pat on back.

“You’re gonna repay me by ironing my trousers.” She told him standing between his parted legs and he scooted closer to the edge of counter and grabbed her teeny hands compared to his's and puts them over his thick thighs, “Whateva' y'say ma'am. ‘course now ye’re ‘bout to become a sexy artist with her own gallery ‘n all tha’.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes dabbing the cotton ball with alcohol and swapped his soft earlobe with it.

“’S not mine.” She murmurs and Harry woven his fingers with her's and tugged her forward. Lips brushing her temple and he shrugged, speaking, there’s nothing for her to be insecure about, if no one's proud of her, he is, he always gonna be, “Does it matter? Those paintings are yours. That room will be filled with your talent – ye're g'na own one soon, mark me words.” His grip tightened when she rubs her hand at his chest to warn him beforehand and he feigned that he’s scared and horrified to make her anxious about it.

“You’re sick in head you know that?” She mumbles grounding down the shakiness of her wrist as she poked the needle through his earlobe and his voice just did a lil loopy-loop as he spoke, “Yeah ... many patients tell me when I don’t give ‘em enough anaesthetic and rip their teeth out.” She blinked up at him with wide eyes and smacked him when he just slumped down against the mirror if nothing happened, his rims floaty and blown out.

Sometimes he jokes too seriously it startles, Y/N.

“You could say an ouch, atleast. Big man.” She giggled taking the needle out and puts a black cross earning after cleaning his brand new piercing, “Ouchhh!” He moaned out dramatically, fingers gliding down his skin under his eyes to reveal pink flesh and blue veins and his eyeballs.

“You’re an ass! Now go iron my trousers D’ya want me to go bottomless?” She chortled out loudly and her laugh boomed through the small washroom when Harry’s hand spanked her bum playfully, “Perhaps tha’ is what I’d never want in any case – even if I’ve to showcase me bum to everyone.”

“Harry?” She’s gazing up at him with deer eyes and tugging at his blazer to gain his attention, “Everyone’s gone?” He looks behind to get the sight of their friends laughing and chatting.

“Yeah.” Harry’s heart tweaks upon hearing her exhausted and sluggishly soft voice. She giggles into his cheek when he slings his arm around her shoulder and runs his nose up and down her head walking towards their equally tipsy friends.

“Everyone lets bunch up to give, Muffy a cuddle.” Harry drawls out. His warm breath tickling her neck and everyone just roars out gathering around them and giving them a big bear hug and Y/N's eyes turns glossier because she’s feel so loved and cared.

Just because of Harry.

When they see off their friends, Y/N isn’t rushing back to her agency’s manager to ask how much paintings she sold instead she’s snuggling into Harry’s embrace and let’s him escort them out and into the cool wind.

“You really deserve chocolate muffins, don’t ya, pet?” His chin doubles as he tries to take a look at her satisfied and relaxed face as they trod on the side of road like two penguins providing heat to eachother.

They’ve drunk quite a nice amount of bevvies. Enough that mighty would make them forget the events that are happening now and that’s nice because they could be embarrassing and cringey with having to think about it later.

“No.” Harry grabs her hand that was about to push the door of the lil bakery and she’a huffing up at him and swatting his hand away with a loud thwack, “’M an independent woman, H.” He just slides her hand away -- retorting with a smile, “And’m a gentleman.”

She squints up at him with scrunched up pouty lips and he’s mimicking her squinting her square in the eye. The clock ticks by and they break into a hand wrestling and he’s squeaking out childishly when she pinches his wrist but he’s coming back with scissor fingers demanding her to do a “stone, papers, scissors.” Fight with him.

When he’s wiggling his fingers in fire gesture she’s groaning out and throwing her arms in air, “Fire beats everything!!” He yells duckishly and spins around doing a little dance.

“Fine.” She grumps folding her arms around her torso and he’s ducking down to smooch annoying kisses to her cheeks and all over face.

Harry’s forearms remains roped around her waist and his chin rests ontop of her head, her back stays pressed to his taught warm chest whole time. Every two minutes or so she raises the muffin she’s eating to his lips and he’s taking a chunky bite out of it as they trod their way back home.

“Dun, dun dun dunnnn, do do ...” She giggles when he sways them. His chest rumbling with his deep drunk octave and she cups his cheek.

“What you singing, honey?” He just giggles clinging to her and hides his face into her neck – murmurs then takes himself out of her fragrance and shouts into the air.

“The pink panther’s song!!” She woofs out a laugh at that and he shoves his face into his palm, wheezing out cutely, “I'know y'laughin' ‘cos ‘m sayin' stupidddd things.....,”

The bunny vociferous laughs that emits from their bellies, tumbles them to the ground and the moment they look towards eachother they burst into more giggles.

Y/N scrambles towards where he’s clutching his side and rolls to face her and she crawls up his chest.

It feels good to waste time on the footpath when their hold on eachother’s this soft, warm and meaningful and full of love.

Their cheeks coral, their grins achy and their eyes gleamy ---- hands wandering and comforting eachother, cuddly and sottish and cosy laying right outside their the homes building.

He hugs her closer to him. She snuggles herself into him and worms into a touch starved shrimp and the words are on the tip of his tongue, they’ve been shown in his sentiments with zeal and passion in past and now they’re bouncing in his chest.

Though, he gulps them back.

He really couldn’t.

“I love you,” It flows away in the wind but she catches onto it and flies with it and pushes herself up on his chest blinking in perplexed rapture.

He’s breathing it out again. This time maybe slurry from inebriation but clear and audible, “oh my god baby .... I love you s'fuckin’ much.” He cradles her face in his palms and slides his forehead against hers.

“You love me?” She whispers and he giggles at her bewildered expression and bobs his head, “That’s what ‘m sayin' pet.”

She knows that she loves him too. More than anybody. Every inch of her body soaks into the word love for him.

She pauses for a moment, “How — but, I mean –- What did I do?” He just shrugs, “Dunno.” His dimples foaming deep and pretty.

“I just think we would be a good us,” At that her head perks up kitten like and she moulds her palms around his either side of neck as if he’s her warm chocolate cuppa, she smiles slowly, “We'd be a wonderful us.” Her gaze glitters on his wine moisturized pink lips and she gives him an eskimo kiss.

“Gimme a kiss then,” She demands pursuing her lips adorably but he shakes his puff of curls and pushes her face back gently, “No!” Her brows pinches together at that and she pokes his dimple pouting sadly.

“But, why?”

“I don’t wanna forget our first kiss.” He whines and paws at her hips to bring her back closer to him and she giggles muttering a silly under her breath and tries to tempt him.

“Kiss me, in this way ... we could have our firsts twice!” He gives into her mischievous offer and sighs cradling her face in his hold and murmurs against the corners of her lips, “Only ‘cos you’re cute and wouldn’t stop peskin'.” She’s grinning and pulling him with her hands and smashing her petal lips against his's, their eyelids springs close and he’s squishing her chasing to deepen the kiss and when she's parting away he’s rushing to peck her lips right back to kiss her more.

“I could really cry just by kissin' you, moppet.” He licks the spots of chocolate from her chubby bottom lip and bites it and she’s melting her mouth again over him, kissing him delicately and sweetly having a certain desire and yearn to just star into one soul that balms there tummies.

“W’na kiss you forever.”

Harry never believed into forevers.

Then Y/N wrapped him in her oh so Y/N-ish blanket and now he wants everything with her for, forever.

“Oh. Hush baby. You’re gonna gimme a tooth ache.”

..

Y/N regrets saying that. Because she’s waking up with a headache, blurry vision and churning stomach ontop of every pain the ache in her tooth came to bite her in ass and she’s hissing grabbing her cheek to soothe it down.

“Fuck my —- damn hell ...” She mutters when even the slightest of air in her mouth stings her tooth like a bitch and it dollops tears on the corners of her eyes because she has never gone through a toothache before.

She’s bargaining in Harry’s flat and into his room and he’s properly wafted, face smashed into his elbow as he wheezes through his parted mouth. She’s shaking him gently because the shrivelling drive of pain is growing after every second.

“Harry!” He’s jolting up and snapping his head in every direction instantly his sleepy gaze melts on her (a sight he'd like to have every morning) but she looks rather rotten with a nest on her head and her last night’s clothes crumbled and when she's quipping an, “It hurts Harry ....” With teary eyes, He’s immediately scurrying closer to her and holding her -- confused at first.

“What's hurtin', pet?” He mumbles groggily and she sniffs, “My tooth –- fuck.”

He sighs knuckling at his eyes and kisses her hair throwing the duvet away, “Sit here yeah? ‘m g'na wash me hands real quick and check it, hmm?” He wipes the corner of her eyes and massages her shoulder -- then unfists her hands to make her release some tension and puts them on her knees.

He’s muttering a, “Good girl.” When she nods obediently and watches his back as he trudges inside the washroom.

Coming back with towel in his hands and throws it on the bed while sitting on his knees and adjusts her between them.

“Can y'open a bit mo' f'me, darling?” He asks gently caressing her hip to loosen her up. He already knows what's about to come next and he’s afraid she’s going to be very batty about the procedure, “Aaaaa.” She practically makes the noise trying to part her jaw as far as she could while Harry’s hand remains intact around it inspecting her mouth and she’s anxious that she has a morning breath but the memories of all those time she would practically drool on his cheeks while sleeping makes her feel less awful about it,

He chuckles tapping lightly on her upper moral, “Ow!” She swats his hand away when his action physically makes her whole body go through a pang.

When she looks up at him with ticked brows and huffy pout biting the flesh of her cheek between her two morals to just do something -- anything to get rid of the pain, Harry rubs the frown away with a grimace and brings her for a hug.

“’M s' sorry baby. But, looks like it’ll need a root canal.” If his bambi wouldn’t be in such pain he indeed would have lectured her and thrown away every sweetened thing in her jars out of the window.

“Can y'endure a lil pain and wait till my last appointment? So, I could take care of you afterwards.” He asks her lovingly and his reasoning makes butterflies erupt in Y/N’s belly and she almost almost forgot about her toothache but then it pangs again and she’s hugging him tighter mumbling into him, “Sure.”

He’s making her change her clothes and made her porridge letting it cool down to a temperature where it wouldn’t stick or ache her teeth.

“Y/N ...” He glowers at her sternly when she pushes his hand away holding the painkillers and that intense ferocious glare where his soft jade eyes are turning into something very dark is enough to tell her that if she’s not taking them, there's a big scold coming and after that no leniency for an argument so she takes it without throwing another tantrum.

After making sure she’s fed well and tucked into bed he’s stroking her hair and massaging her head, adjusting her pillow as she likes, kissing the tip of her nose as he murmurs.

“Rori will be pickin’ y’up sharp at 5. Told her to wake you up gently if you’ll be sleepin’.” Her eyes are dreamily glassy and she smiles lightly and she’s already missing his touch on her skin when he stands back up ready to leave.

She really wanted to say it.

Dying to say it, infact.

But all that came from her mouth was, “I’m gonna miss you.” Earning a giggle from him in return.

“G’na miss you terribly too.”

..

Rori drove Y/N to hospital. She’s still in Harry’s clothes that he made her wear in the morning, a black galaxy sweater and wide loose pants a beanie on her head to protect her from a headache and when the receptionist waves her enthusiastically upon her arrival Y/N’s smiling but never opening her mouth knowing the bitch would be back.

“Dr. Styles went for a staff on-call. He'll be here any moment, you could go inside.” Y/N’s nodding and padding inside his room. The pain has lessened a bit and that gives her teensy energy to wander around his room admiring his lil achievements, the medal he won last year and right beside it the pen holder she gave him it that has a “HORRAY TAKE BABY STEPS BABY STEPS HONEY!!” written obnoxiously on it as if she’s screaming it to his face and she giggles at her own silly gift.

She gasps and ends up knocking her hip into his desk as Harry steps in and laughs loudly at her, tutting with a shake of his head, “Jumpy little thing you’re.” Out of habit his hands are falling at her hips and bringing her closer.

“How’re y'muffy?” He asks and she’s bobbing her head up and down dramatically but silently making him chuckle.

“’Kay get yourself comfy on the seat ‘m gonna call my assistant t’give you anesthetic.” He suppresses a smile when she worms her bum up the slippery seat and goes on pushing different buttons moving it up and down.

“How adventurous.” He snickers switching the examination lamp and she rolls her eyes. His assistant’s eyeing them with happy eyes from under her glasses and Harry’s putting his latex gloves aside as she fills the injection and Y/N's muscles tenses up in anticipation, as she tries to blink the fear away and musters up a weak smile.

Knowing she has a fear of needles. Harry rolls the stool he’s sitting on closer to her and interlaces their fingers together, he coos sweetly, “It’ll be just a pinch baby.” Though, Y/N thinks Harry’s a motherfucking liar because it apparently is not just a pinch but feels like a stick shoved up your ass.

When the assistant leaves them to fetch something, Harry’s stroking the fringes of her hair behind with benevolent and caring eyes and smiles down at her sincerely.

“I want y'to relax, moppet. Yeah? Could y'do tha' f'me?” This time when he’s poking or prodding she isn't slapping him away and he’s grateful because that means her gums are numb properly.

He’s caressing her arm to assure her that she has nothing to be afraid about when she startles hearing the buzz of instrument that’s about to rip her poor gum apart.

Surprisingly she was easy. Because, Harry was so gentle with her and when he’s ushering her to spit in the little sink and she’s laying back with cloudy eyes and a grin Harry just knows the anaesthesia is kicking in.

It means that she’s allowed to blabber every dumb thing to him (she doesn’t need anaesthesia for it by the way), without any filter and timidness she’s about to chatter his brain alive.

Her gaze slowly rakes down his torso as if she’s undressing him with her eyes and she’s grinning -- more blood pooling in her mouth, “You look very handsome in scrubs — you know that?” Her words wobblish but full of naughtiness and Harry arranges them himself barking out a delighted laugh when she tugs at hem of his clothes perking her lips.

“I could really kiss you right now....” Her voice clear with desire but a hint of neediness and fondness for him and he’s gazing her down with gleamy endearment and snorts bringing the water cup to her lips, “Sorry Bambi but don’t like kissing a bloody mouth.” She keeps her doe eyes on him and they turn sad while she gurgles the water in her puffed up cheeks and spits it again into sink, about to protest with him but he’s shushing her and laying her back onto the seat.

“Not even me?” She grumps up at him and he’s retorting shaking his head in rejection, he's just trying to rile her up because he himself thinks that a single peck wouldn’t hurt.

“You’ll get an answer to this after we're done with you,” He muses softly when her eyes flicker with glee.

She was all over him as if she’s a small baby who needs his guidance to walk her way out and Harry was waving his staff goodbye with nervous lamblike smile while he tries to balance her against his chest.

The whole ride back he refrained from cooing and making im-a-fool-who-is-shamlessly-in-love noises. How could he not? When she looks this cute and cuddly in his clothes, head lulling every once a while as she sleeps facing him, her hand on his thigh to keep her reminded of his presence.

Harry’s grabbing it and kissing her knuckles. A jolly smile fluttering on his features and he isn’t waking her up as the reach and takes her into his flat – flumps her down on his bed gently and gets rid of her shoes and sweater.

Even skips dinner. Gets out of his work clothes and takes a glance of his sleepy girl standing from the wardrobe and the light clicks off before his gangly body is sliding under the duvets beside her.

Warm, sweet and cosy.

His all day's exhaustion fuses into nothingness when his feet comes caressing her calves and his chest presses to her shoulders and his elbows shelters around her in a protecting loving manner.

His heart hiccups a happy beat when she turns to his side and snuggles into him murmuring in haze, “Love you.”

He trips into utter shock. Staring down at her with baffled eyes but then the memories from past night comes upon crashing down at him like a crystal wave of ocean and floats him to an island where he belongs, always fated to belong.

He confessed his love for her.

She confessed it back.

They both were stupid and forgot it.

Now when she’s telling him that she loves him Harry feels like he’s rather about to pass out or squeal into pillow.

“I love you too, baby.” He's just wrapping her closer to him and lingering a wet kiss to her forehead.

..

Y/N’s moral was grinded, she keeps on swiping her tongue over it even how much Harry scolds her about it (it feels like a small plateau that got separated away because of an earthquake, y/n has made her own imagination about her tooth) and Harry let her chose the colour of filling that will be the mould of her crown, it was just an unnecessary thing to make her feel cheerful about it.

“Is Harry busy? Who’s inside?” She’s asking the old receptionist tapping her nails against the marble counter in eagerness to be done with it and that she’s about to take him to this yummy Thai place.

“Oh. He’s with his girlfriend right now.” Placid sereneness dooms over them and Y/N falls frightfully quite.

The poor assistant doesn’t know what she has uttered.

She just told her what the rumours has told her.

Her jittery smile drops into a blue scowl, her legs weakens at the thought and she nearly trips when Holly appears from inside his room.

It bitters her mouth with taste of anger and outrage.

Holly passes her a tight empathetic smile as if she knew everything from start and Y/N’s striding past her in resentment, her mind smoked with betrayal and vehemence.

“Hi. Moppet.” He rolls his stool over smiling up at her and it tightens her chest so much she chokes onto a breath.

How could he? No. No.

How dare he!?

But, there’s no need to cry over split milk now is it? She has to accept it that they could never be something more than just bestfriends.

“Hi.” She mumbles blocking her tears in the back of her eyes somewhere and Harry frowns, asking politely as she sits, “Feelin' alright?” She just nods and it takes Harry off-guard.

Where is his bubbly Muffy?

“Are you hurtin' somewhere?” He asks again pushing her upper lip to get a better look of her tooth. When she denies he lets it slide.

Though, when the assistant injects her and she’s groping Harry’s thigh because in grief everything hurts more than usual and her heart is dripping with sorrow and loneliness and grief she’s on verge of breaking into pieces right on this seat.

Harry’s brows clinches together in worry but she’s inhaling a puff of breath and giving him an etiolated smile to finish this as soon as possible and leave before she humiliates herself infront of him.

Her crown didn’t fit and he had to do a little more grinding. Meanwhile, Holly’s entering the room and Y/N shuts her eyes pretending that she isn’t there.

It hurts. Not in her tooth. Everywhere. Like a force is ripping her apart through a saw and it hurls her into deep agony and her heart almost stops functioning.

Harry was too focused and worried about her eerie behaviour that he ignored the frail hits on his thigh and Holly’s taking his name loudly making him stop.

Y/N’s jolting up and gagging into the sink beside her. Her knuckles turning white from gripping it ruthlessly.

She stares the clots of blood and mucus washing away with blurry eyes.

“Baby?” Harry quickly rubs her back anxiously and scrutinise with raucous beating heart as her hands shivers cupping the water and taking it in her mouth.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Are y'okay? Pet?” His voice drips with panic and dread that the worst happened to her because of him --– if the case's true he's never gonna touch her again.

“Y/N!?” He’s growling loudly when she doesn’t reply him and keeps on crying. His eyes turning back concerned and soft when she hiccups a weep, “It hurts Harry ....” Holly rolls her eyes, leans against the desk and puts the file she brought to Harry beside her.

“You’re not a child anymore, Y/N. Ofcourse it’s gonna hurt.” She snickers and this makes Y/N cry more – Harry’s holding her hands in his and stroking his thumb at her knuckles.

“Dunno --...– maybe –- ma —,” Harry’s emerald eyes are boring into her murky one's and it pierces her soul away from her inside.

Their heads perk up when Holly asks her rudely, “Are you doubting Harry?”

Y/N shakes her tiny defeated head vigorously, “No! Why —.. why would I?” More tears pooling in her waterline and dropping at the back of Harry’s hand. He rushes to wipe them away and shush her but Holly’s acidic laugh is echoing.

How could she even think that?

Y/N could never doubt him.

Why she has to be so mean to her everytime?

“I mean you —,” Holly opens her mouth to speak but Harry’s cutting her off sharply, “Dr. Jenner enough. I’ll appreciate it if you wait f'me outside.” His head snaps back to Y/N who’s wiggling out of his hold and gasping out -- her pupils blown out and woozy.

“I just need a breather.” Saying this she’s out before Holly leaving Harry baffled and agitated to ponder over how she was pain and he failed to realise sooner.

..

The zephyr is tranquil. Frolicking with her heart and the grass is dewy under her as she runs towards an empty bench outside where there’s barely any light and she wishes Harry never comes to look for her.

She’s such a mess.

Her chest suffocates with a sob. She’s trying to lull her breath back to normal just like he tells her to.

When she flutters her eyelids into vision a hand with a cross on it’s thumb is pressed onto the bench beside her and there’s an afflicted pause in the atmosphere before she slowly faces him and places her hand atop his hand.

Her breath shudders through a smile, the tension in between them thickening as Harry feels her so close but so distant from him.

Emotionally and mentally and even their souls feels trapped within their own bodies.

It upsets him, to see his Bambi like that,

“’M so sorry, Harry. My intention wasn’t to embarrass you.” She isn’t serious? Sometimes he wants to bang his head at nearby wall at her silliness.

“You didn’t.” He assures her gently.

“But I did. Infront of the person you love.” It pains to say it. In the end she could suffer from anything for his happiness even if it’s handing him to the wrong person if he loves them.

Harry’s eyes turn moist at that. An unbelievable sour laugh eliciting from his lungs as he shoves his palms into his sockets, rubs them harshly and grasps her wrists pulling her closer to him with one furious tug.

“Yeah because that’s you, dumbass!!” Y/N’s body turns into a stone at his stern confession and she’s staring him with a throb in her heart and sad kitten eyes.

His brows pricks together ferociously and his lips twitches up as he speaks chopped on tears, “Every Daphne I pick up from the side-grass while comin’ back home t’you, these stupid stars in sky ‘n these ...” His shoes scrapes against the grass as he tries to show her, “....these stupid stupid shoelaces I tie around me ankles,” He’s raising his wrist to show her the milk bottle tattoo he got for he’s in love with her and their cats, once they were drunk, “... this fuckin' tattoo I got —- ‘s always been you.” He let’s the tears shine on his cheeks and soak them rosy.

“Always you, Bambi.” His accent gluteus and hoarse, “You’re always gonna be my sweet Bambi. Who I adore and love so much.”

“How?” She whispers in bewilderment and when Harry’s warming his forehead against her's tickling her lips as he murmurs, “Because you thought we'd be a wonderful us.”

A sob is wrecking out of her and she’s wrapping her arms around the nape of his neck pulling him down into a bone crushing hug, as the night they first confessed and had their first kiss makes a home in her mind.

She’s glad they didn’t forget their first.

“I love you.” Harry mumbles through a squished up cheek and saturates their chests closer with his hand planted firmly over her spine.

“I love you too. So much of it.” They’re crying elated tears knowing they’ve eachother to wipe them away and he’s sponging a tender kiss to her mouth and the corner of her lip avoiding where it’s swollen and her cheek is bloated.

The metallic taste of her blood lingers on his own lips.

“I could even kiss your bloody mouth, see?” He giggles feathering back his lips to her lips and gives her a chastise peck.

“Let’s put your crown, my highness.” Harry scoops up giggles from within her and tries to cherish this moment for as long as possible.

He’s never gonna forget his first, done twice.

..

Not a days go by where they don’t make love to eachother. A string of knot that connects their souls as Harry keeps his cock warm inside her while sleeping and it fattens inside her when they’re about to wake up and Harry’s rolling his hips into her lazily and gradually getting out breathy hums and whispers of whines from her —- her ankles locks behind his back and he’s always hitting and caressing the spots inside her which she was never able to reach herself with her short fingers.

Their bath times are intimate. Not full of adrenaline and thrill that one would end up having a foot cast from tripping from their playfulness, like they used to everytime. It’s delicate touches. Soft back rubs. Foamy head massages and cuddly bubbles. Smooching wet kisses. Heated makeout sessions and then drying eachother off, brushing teeth together and going to bed wearing eachother’s mismatched clothes.

Their mornings are spent lounging in bed and sharing a little love, sweet irresistible kisses, mouth sweet with eachother's tongues and hands comforting eachother, having a satisfying brekkie together in bed and sometimes the other is too tired to go (it’s usually Harry) and they always remind them they’re gonna come back home to eachother.

Harry made, Y/N explore herself. Introduced her to the tingles of what it feels to be rough and have a good shag that sends her into her sub-space where she doesn’t stop thrashing and spasming under him and He’s always there to bring her back to him and to take care of her.

They sometime do it in his office room too. Whenever she’s visiting him and he looks to alluring that Y/N could swallow him whole and his thighs man-spread deliciously as he sits on the stool in his damn scrubs, “You c’mere.” He pats his thigh dirtily in a command for her to straddle him and ride his cock and she’s always obeying like a good bunny moaning out feeling him in her tummy.

They’ve had countless of sex in Harry’s living room which they turned into a working studio for Y/N and whenever she's painting sometimes naked to tease him, how could Harry resist when she looks ethereal with her peachy bosom and her adorable tummy rolls and her innocent eyes and her cushiony thighs —- so he just pushes her thighs that he’s oh so in love with to her chest and pins her to floor and fucks her till she isn’t satiated enough.

Shower sex and bit of striptease when Harry’s knackered out. The hot water that prattles on their toes and their sweaty skins that slaps against eachother’s makes it much filthier and nastier.

They’ve bunch of romantic sex too. Oh boy! Just loads of romance where he’s too soft and mushy and dotting with her.

Sometimes, two people have deep connection that makes seem romance trivial and it isn’t about lust everytime. It’s about their souls. About the deepest part of who they’re as a person. Who they could be for eachother when the time strikes.

Just like right now. As, the stars twinkle outside and the dark snowy wind hits the windows; checked by the occasional gust that rattles the rooftop and the wood would creak to tell it’s presence. Fragrance of scented candles that of peonies, sparkling champagne and crème almonds surrounds them.

Harry brought Y/N on a holiday at a mountain and had a warm cosy wooden cottage booked for themselves.

They’ve spent it enjoying themselves and forgetting about their life in city. Today, the layer of foamy crystal snow is more than usual and they decided to cuddle up into their own little comfy cubby.

He takes his time feeling her skin and she nuzzles her nose up in his throat and giggles when he purrs.

The fire churning infront of them is similar to the one quenching in his belly as he sneaks his hand under her slip dress and fondles her nipples in between his calloused fingers.

“I wanna make love t'you, Muffy.” He mumbles grazing his blunt teeth down her sweaty pulse and laps at it splaying his palm close to her bum when she arches up into him, “I’m all yours.” She guppies around a gasp and he’s chuckling sweetly cradling her face in his hold and brews his lips against her's in a passionate endearingly hot kiss that moists her breath and her each ravine pore fills with love for him.

Their chests burns with carnal desire as he lays them on the flumpy nest of bed they made from blankets and pillows, his mouth keeps on tasting her with ardent fever and he situates himself between her and grinds their pelvises sensing her nipples stitching under his fingers and she’s gnawing her teeth into his petalish lip when he fills his palms with her tits.

“So cute.” He quips when she gasps whining for him to smudge his cocoa-vaseline covered lips back on her's and her lips brushes against his clavicles, emitting a perfervid whimper as Harry strokes his palm to feel her arousal and juices, “Hmm. I could just give you a flyin' kiss and you’ll still end up squirting.” He's easing his middle finger inside her and gazes her with profound sweetness when she pushes her palm up against his large moth and punctuates soft kisses to his vein at the side of his neck that prominents from their intimacy.

“Fuck. You get t've me cock daily but still so snug, pet. G’na stretch y'nice ‘n good.” He grunts, trailing soppy kisses down the valley of her breasts. Slicking his mouth around her nipple and she whines hungrily unceasing her fingers in his curls and pulls at them bringing him down for more kisses, “You love my kisses baby? Hmm? My baby loves me kisses ...” He coos suckling onto her lower lip and latches back full to her mouth and perennials it into pastels of wetness.

Sips down her moans when he slithers three more fingers into her and fits them deep, cupping his palm against her pussy. Something weirdly soft about his bare ring-less fingers and he runs his hips into her, “Feels good?” He growls looking down where his fingers drives into her.

When she bobs her head hungrily. She squirms – goosebumps pebbling on her skin and the mellow glow of candles melting on her when he pecks her and pecks her again, kissing her tongue as he mumbles, “Bet. It’ll feel more good with my cock inside y’pussy. Tell me moppet, who's little cunt is this?” He asks wiggling his middle finger to nudge the walnut shaped spot inside her – tucked within her walls and his other hand’s pressing her thigh to floor as he saps his teeth into her neck and leaves love bites.

Marking her as his’s.

“Yours. Please, it’s all yours.” She sobs out ardently. Crumbling and lurking at the edge to hold this pleasing feeling for some moment in her belly.

“Right.” He affirms. Licking the maroon marks he littered on her puddy skin and he's grabbing her shivery hand that was about to cup around his cock and stroke it, “You’re mine.” He strings their fingers together and brings it to his lips to kiss the soft pads of her fingers.

“All mine to love on, to cherish, to be proud of –-- You’re my little Bambi.” His infatuated dotting words are making her strike herself into him, quivering and blabbering, eyes shut in bliss and love and he’s helping her ride the sensation out.

The moment he’s taking his fingers out he’s interlacing those sticky cum covered fingers with her other hand and stretching her arms and pinning their winded hands atop her head into floor.

They’re moaning into waxy humidity when Harry sheathes into her and her walls soaps around his girth as he sinks himself into her, his heavy balls pressed buried deep to her bum and he’s smushing his face into her breasts and almost snuggles into her knowing how much she loves to just be wrapped into him as he pounds his cock inside her.

He’s sweltering his hips. Feeling her gooey warmth and rolls himself harder and she’s crossing her arms around his shoulder – kissing his neck and caressing the curls that’ve grown out a tad under his earlobes.

“I love you,” He's nosing at her jaw to tip her mouth towards him and kisses it —- his hold on her delicate but she’s coveting crescents into his knuckles and a bow of string connects their mouths as she pecks him till she’s running out of breath, “I love you. I love you so so much.” Even though they’re taking their time but Y/N doesn’t think she could last a minute longer the way he’s thrusting languidly but deeply into her.

“Show me then, c’mon baby cum on m’cock. Soak it. G'na keep it inside you ‘n sleep like tha', mphmp makin' me so so good —- g'na cum?” He rasps out and she’s whimpering blubbering out without much mind as he stuffs her full and enough.

Her voice meek and high-pitch, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She’s dripping all over him and coating him with her cum. He doesn’t not stop and pumps it back inside her roughly.

“Fuck. Baby.” His howl wounded and broken as he feels his balls tighten and he leaks inside her, “S'okay honey cum inside me Harry .. love how you make me feel – how big your cock is.” She grates her teeth into the eternity of his throat and punctures her lips to suck around the fading hickey she gave him two nights prior.

His hips stutters, and he keeps himself up with his weak elbows spurting ribbons and ribbons of thick seed inside her.

She moans out when he wouldn’t stop cumming and she thrashes upward with a final twist of his push, his words sultry and drunk on libido, “Fuck. I came so much – you’ll ‘ave to squeeze tha’ all out fo’ me,” He’s smoothing their arms down to let them be on eachother and Y/N sees the gears working in his mind when he grins.

“In case you’ll want a refill.”

She rolls her eyes cheek smashed into his bicep and pinches his nipple, “Way to ruin the moment –- you libido driven slut." A noise peeps out of her when he whumps on her and looks up at her with an amused expression.

“Y'know tha' slut shaming is inappropriate?” She just shrugs smiling around a yawn.

“Is that an invitation to whore shame y'then?” He listens to her heartbeat. Tracing pattern of yellow flicker on her skin and kisses the curve of her breast.

“Will that end up me havin' yer fingers in my bum?” She creampies around him at his genuine yet naughty question and he snorts out loudly stirring his cock on purpose that’s still snug inside her, “Hmm then ‘m defo a whore.”

“Harry!” She pouts and he squishes that pout as if she’s some duckling -- an old habit he'd never get rid of.

..

“Mrs. Styles!” Holly’s head perks up at the call and she’s looking down at the five month old baby that has her bum situated on her momma’s hip and she squeals joyfully bunching her momma's shirt in her tiny chubby hands.

Holly just simpers quietly not greeting the duo and keeps on walking as Y/N enters Harry’s office room.

His face brightens up. Dimples popping awfully cute just how Y/N loves and his smile widens into a toothy one as he leaves everything and scurries towards his girls, “Oh my two Bambis!” He's greeting them with loud sloppy loving kisses all over their faces that makes them squint their eyes and giggle ticklish from the faint stubble that’s growing on his chin.

Their baby. Harry never thought he was able to love someone this purely and extremely. From a grumpy kid himself and someone who used to loose his shit at the formula chugging machines he used to call them —-- he never even imagined to own one.

But, after two years into marriage and moving into a house with the love of his life everything had a possibility for him and their one room that’d look so empty just made his stomach squeaky and yearn for a little one that he could protect and hold delicately close to his chest and lather them in his kisses and smell their baby scent and have cuddles with them,

Harry really wanted her to be a December baby -- if not particular then winters.

Because she just looks like the joy of Christmas and the sapience of homely evening.

Her frost bitten poppy nose. Her plushy warm cheeks that of running his fingers over an old sweater that holds infinite memories for him, the shimmer in her eyes that of snowflakes and those lips she got from her mother that of marshmallows melting on hot chocolate.

Harry really fucked his dream of her being a winter baby by fucking Y/N at the wrong time of the year.

She ended up coming out on the most heated month, june.

Wasn’t his fault too. Because they were trying for so long and he'd be all excited for the pregnancy tests but then they'd come out negative everytime weighing a ball of sadness in his chest and when they conceived her –-- he didn’t even remember the damn date.

The pregnancy for them wasn’t that hard. Minus the eventual tantrums that were thrown his way as daggers but he was skilled to dodge them and lure his wifey back to him with chocolate chip cookies.

The process of her birth was life taking for Y/N and Harry had short comings in his breath from the way his wife would all be jerking in pain.

She had to endure the labour pain for three days.

It’d always tear him into sobs as he'd fall into Rori's arms while everyone stayed inside with her for a moment.

It wasn’t easy to look at the love of his life, his bestfriend, his Bambi, his everything go through so much pain and he almost ended up regretting having a baby but when she’d be all snuggled up into his side after a long tiring and screaming day with her bump swollen beautifully with his bubba inside, it used to relax him a bit,

When she came out all sticky and covered in blood he realized at that moment that; she truly is his’s.

Those earthy gem eyes that didn’t cry first five minutes but rather kept on staring at him intrigued as to why the man that used to chatter her ears away in thick sleepy accent when she was in the cosy spot of her mummy’s belly is now just crying and crying.

They made her with so much love and care.

She was just so soft to touch. Just like their favourite flowers.

She was his Daphne.

He’s grabbing her from armpits and immediately putting a hand under her diaper clad bum when she huffed making grabby hands at him, “Hi Daphne bub! Missed daddy much?” He coos bouncing her a little and rumbles his lips against her cheek to create farty noises.

She squeals fisting his hair and yanks at it. That makes Y/N laugh out loudly, “Careful there, H. She’s getting quite handsy.” He just smiles convincing his baby to have some mercy on his curls.

When Y/N tells him about his routine and her nap timing Harry’s just sighing kissing her lips and patting her ass to move, “I can take care of me baby -- doin' it fo' five months, forgot?” He took a paternity leave to spend more time with Daphne and his Bambi.

To be sure that they were growing and healing well.

Y/N has to take the cats for their monthly checkup that’s why she has to leave Daphne with Harry and even though she’s not fond of her in hospitals Harry assured her that he’s heading home soon.

When Y/N leaves, Harry blows raspberries at her face and she pouts just like her mummy and he’s squishing that pout like his own little duckling.

“Da',” She grumbles and Harry kisses her cheek fondly and lovingly, “Yes Da, bubblin. Guess like we’ve got a date with Pooh and Roo at home.” He guffaws out loudly when Daphne's eyes visibly twinkles at the name of her plushies she likes to chew on and get them all soggy by the end of the day.

“You’re such a minx, baby!” Harry thinks he couldn’t be happier.

He’s complete.

His family is complete.

[aithorin]

You’re Mine - All Smite x Reader (18+)

Summary: After trying to leave town, Smite shows you exactly who you belong to

Warnings: Villain AU, Villain!All Might, Possessive Behavior, Dominance, Mildly dubious consent (i.e. you don’t explicitly say yes), Vaginal fingering, Unhealthy relationships, Unplanned pregnancy

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25469632

Very much NSFW!

Stepping through your front door, All Might expected to hear the usual snide remark about how rude it was to barge into someone’s house unannounced float down the hall, but all that greeted him was silence. Closing the door behind him, he walked further inside and called out your name, but got no reply. The apartment was well and truly empty. Arriving in the living room, All Might let himself sink onto your couch, a creak emitting from it at his weight, and soon let himself become preoccupied with his thoughts.

Something didn’t feel right. You should have been home right now. After all, he knew what your schedule was like. Not because he cared about you or anything though. He just kept himself up to date on your life, so that he wouldn’t waste his time coming over here if you were busy. He usually only came over to blow off some steam, so coming at a bad time would only make things worse. Frustrated and horny were two emotions that did not mix well with All Might. As such, he kept himself in the loop on your daily life. It was a purely selfish motivation. Except, it had apparently backfired since you weren’t here. He could feel the beginnings of frustration crawl up his spine at your absence mixing with something he refused to name (though if he really examined it, the feeling would probably be identified as worry), and with a growl escaping from his lips, he jumped up off the couch to see if he could find out where you had gone.  

Beginning in your bedroom, the first thing he noticed was that the place seemed emptier. To the left, the closet doors stood wide open with a few clothes barely holding onto their hangers while the majority of them held nothing. The knick knacks and stationary that dotted your desk were nowhere to be seen. Looking toward the back, he saw that your nightstand had been completely cleared as well. Your room looked like something out of a hotel rather than a space you lived in. Observing your bedroom, All Might knew you had haphazardly packed and left to go somewhere in a hurry, but looking even closer, he realized that it looked like you had no intention of coming back. Nostrils flaring in anger, he stewed about what could have possibly made you leave so quickly, leave him so quickly. Didn’t you know that you belonged to him? It was almost laughable that you thought you could leave. You were his. His toy to do with as he pleased, and you should have known better than anyone that he was very possessive of his toys.

Turning around, he stomped in the direction of the bathroom to continue his search. First, he was going to figure out why you had left. Then, he was going to find you and drag you back if he had to. And finally, he was going to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t ever think of leaving again.

Walking into the bathroom only confirmed what he already knew: you had fled, but from what he still had no fucking clue. The space was completely bare, all of your toiletries gone. He was about to leave when he caught sight of a little trash can placed next to the toilet. Taking his time to examine it, the pieces of the puzzle behind your disappearance began to click in his head, and the second it did, annoyed anger turned into full-blown rage. For there, nestled right at the top, was a plastic stick with a plus sign on it. He vowed right then and there that he was going to make you pay, and without another glance, stormed out of the apartment, intent on finding you immediately.

_________________________

Nervously glancing down at your watch, you ducked into a nearby alley, using it as a shortcut to get to the train station. With your suitcase bouncing on the gravel behind you, you chanted in your head, “5 more minutes. 5 more minutes, and I’ll be at the train station. 5 more minutes, and I’ll be on the train, heading away from him. 5 more minutes until I start my new life. 5 more minutes until I’m-we’re safe.”

Taking deep breaths to calm yourself, a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you spotted the other end of the alleyway. Right around the corner was the entrance to the train station. With each step, your surroundings grew brighter and a bounce in your walk seemed to grow with it. You could almost taste the freedom. One more step and you’d be out-

“And where do you think you’re going?” a familiar voice growled, yanking on your arm to tug you back into the shadows of the alley.

“Damn, so close. I really hope he doesn’t kill me.” you thought.

Turning around, you craned your neck up to meet All Might’s infamous blue eyes. Fuck, he looked really angry. It’s ok, you could talk yourself out of this.

Putting on a brave face, you steeled yourself to lie your way through this encounter. It didn’t matter how you felt about him. You had to get him to let you leave after this-and in one piece. “Hey All Might! Didn’t I tell you? I have an out of town business meeting this week and-”

Cutting you off, he leaned down to get eye level with you. “DON’T lie to me girl. I saw your apartment. You have enough shit in that suitcase to last you for a lifetime. Now I’ll only ask once, What. Are. You. Doing.” he spit out.

Taking a moment to study him, you tried to gauge his behavior. He was angry angry-like angrier than you had ever seen him before. Did-did he know? You thought to yourself momentarily before mentally shaking your head. No, there’s no way he could know. I’ll just play it off. Tell him a half-truth and push him away to distance him from me. Let’s hope he doesn’t snap my neck over it.

Raising your half-lidded eyes to meet his, you shrugged simply replying, “I’m leaving.”

“Why?” he bit out.

Stepping back to place some distance between you two, you crossed your arms as you began to get irritated with him. “Does there have to be a reason? Maybe I just got tired of your annoying ass and decided to leave town since I’ll have to go god knows how far to get you to leave me alone.” you scoffed.

Taking a step towards you to close the distance you had tried to create, he snarled “Watch your tone girl. I’m already upset with you. You do not want to make me angrier. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Beginning to circle around you, like a bird eyeing its prey, he let out a tut. “But back to the matter at hand...we both know that bullshit excuse of yours isn’t true, so why don’t you be a good little girl and tell me the real reason.”

Stiffening at his words, you tried to deflect. Still feigning nonchalance, you rolled your eyes, letting out a sigh, “Why does it even matter to you? I’m just your fuck buddy, sometimes an occasional person to talk to. So why the fuck do you even care what I do?  Either way, I’m replaceable. Just go find another hole to stick it in, and I’m sure you’ll be juuusssst fine.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, All Might whipped his head around to stare at you, giving you the most scathing look you had ever seen. Harshly grabbing a hold of your arms he brought you close in a grueling grip before hoisting you up. Before you could even think, he jumped into the air, the force behind it rattling the buildings in the alleyway. Moments later, you found yourself on the balcony of your apartment, still held tightly in his arms. Dropping you down, he nodded towards the back door.

“Open it.” He stated in a tone that left no room for argument.

Digging out your keys, you silently followed his commands. As soon as you slid the door open, he bent down to go inside. “Follow me. NOW.” He demanded.

Filled with anticipation, you trailed along behind him until he came to a stop at your kitchen table. Seeing what was on the table, your mouth immediately went dry. At your reaction, a sneer started to make its way across All Might’s face.

“It matters to me because of that,” he stated, nodding his head towards the test on the table, “Mind explaining what it is?”

You could still fix this. So he knew you were pregnant, big deal. You just had to convince him that it wasn’t his. Swallowing nervously, you let out a shaky laugh. “That’s what’s got you so worked up? That has nothing to do with this. It’s not even yours. I told you, I just didn’t want to see you anymore, so I left.”

Advancing towards you, he backed you up against a wall before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Do you take me for a fool girl? I’m the most powerful man in all of Japan. Are you really so naive to think I don’t keep tabs on you? You should know by now that I don’t share, so I know for a fact that my dick’s the only one that’s been in your dirty little cunt since we met. I warned you not to lie to me before, so if you know what’s good for you, I’d suggest you drop this little act and tell me the truth.”

Now you knew it was too late. He definitely knew it was his and he was angry. At the fact that it was his baby or that you had lied you didn’t know which. Either way though, your charade was over. You had no idea what was going to happen now. With tears shining in your eyes, you defiantly lifted your chin up to glare at him. “Fine, I’m pregnant and it’s yours, is that what you wanted to hear Toshinori?” Softening your voice to a whisper you repeated, “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Letting out a watery laugh, you shook your head muttering, “I don’t even know why it matters. We both know that you have absolutely no desire to be a father. You’re a villain for god's sake! A child won’t fit neatly into your lifestyle. Hell, I don't even fit neatly into your lifestyle now. We barely know each other. I’m just a quick fuck to you. That’s all this has ever been and it’s all that it needs to be.”

Looking at him directly in the eye, you pleaded, “Just let me go, and you’ll never see either one of us ever again. If you let me leave here safely, I promise that you won’t ever hear from me. It’ll be like we never even existed to you.”

Letting out a laugh, All Might looked down at you with a smirk, “Let you go? There’s no way in hell I’m ever letting you go, especially now. Not that I was ever planning on it, but this little development,” he took a moment to lower his eyes to your stomach, “just became my insurance. You’re mine… forever now.”

He could see it now. Coming home to you every night. You, greeting him at the door with a child on your hip. Thinking about it caused something to twinge in his chest. Normally the thought of a family and children brought an overwhelming disgust to the forefront of his mind, but the thought of a family with you brought forth a wave of completely opposite emotions. He told himself that it was only pride at the thought of you fat with his kid, yet there was an underlying emotion of happiness as well.

Meanwhile, you were going through a series of emotions trying to decipher what he meant exactly with his words. It was always so hard to tell what All Might was thinking. Most of the time he was very flippant during your interactions, choosing to tease or flirt with you during your time together. He could never be serious with you about anything (unless it was about sex), so you had always assumed you were some sort of fling since he never bothered to get to know you. So what exactly did he mean by “forever?” Did he mean it, or was it just some sort of way of feeding into his ego? You could admit that you did have fun together. He loved to tease you, (he considered finding new ways to push your buttons a sport) and he did come see you at least once a week, often choosing to stay at your place for the night rather than leave. But you never thought he meant anything by it. His mood could switch so easily that you had learned to never read too much into his actions.

Despite his somewhat dismissive attitude towards you though, some part of you had fallen in love with him during the course of your relationship (against your better judgement) and you treasured every moment you spent with him. God knows you should’ve never gotten involved with him, but being with him just felt right. From the moment you met him, you knew that nobody else would ever make you feel the way he did. Although you had feigned indifference, claiming you were nothing more than fuck buddies, your relationship with the infamous villain had moved past that some time ago. You had just never known what it had moved into until now. His declaration seemed to indicate that he did care about you in a way that extended past a fuck but you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that he cared about anything other than himself. Almost certain you were dreaming, you voiced your thoughts aloud.

“Care about you? Of course I care about you, why else would I have wasted so much time on you. I swear you ask the stupidest questions.” He scoffed, “How many times do I have to tell you that you belong to me and only me? Maybe it’s about time I just showed you instead.”

Somehow he stepped impossibly closer to you, placing one arm above your head to keep you thoroughly trapped in place. Standing so close, you could feel the hardness of his dick pressing into your thigh. Breath held in anticipation, you silently watched as he traced the pad of his thumb across your lips with his free hand. Shoving the top of his finger into your mouth, he looked down at you commanding you to suck on it and you instinctively started to swirl your tongue around it. Watching you appreciatively, he let out a hum as he declared, “This filthy mouth of yours is mine.”

Pulling his finger out of your mouth, a string of saliva followed after it. Eyes glued to him, you watched closely to see what he would do next. Your deep breaths echoed throughout the room, but it was blocked by the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You could feel your pulse beginning to pick up as tingles of desire started to dance across your flushed skin. Body tense with excitement, a heat started to spread throughout your body heading straight for your core at his touch.

All Might continued carving a path down your body, ghosting a hand over the length of your neck and coming to a stop at your breasts. “These are also mine.” he growled out, giving them a squeeze as he gave a light tug on one of your nipples. At his touch, a breathy groan escaped your lips as a wave of desire caused a fresh layer of wetness to coat your pussy. Your hardened nipples ached for more attention, but before you could even blink, his touch was gone, causing you to whine in protest. All Might paid you no heed though, much more interested in making his toward the final stop in his exploration of your body.

Skimming over the flesh of your thigh, his hand slowly started to climb their way up your skirt. Unconsciously, you spread your legs to allow him better access, causing a smirk to make its way upon his face at your display of eagerness. Finding the outline of your panties, he trailed a lone finger up your slick before gently flicking at your nub. Withdrawing his hand, he took a long inhale of your scent before raising the digit up to his mouth to lick it clean. Smacking his lips, All Might fixed a roguish grin upon you before leaning down to lay his palm flat over your pussy, his thumb beginning to rub slow circles around your clit. “And this ….this tight little cunt of yours belongs solely to me. You belong to me”

With that, he leaned over to capture your lips in a kiss, forcefully pushing his way in to deepen it as much as he could. His tongue smothered yours in a play of dominance, but you met him head on, arching your back into his chest in an effort to raise your head for a better angle. Seconds later, All Might abandoned his task of keeping your arms trapped in favor of using his hands to rip your shirt off. Never once letting go of his lips, you shrugged out of the remains of your shirt as well as your bra. Chest now bare, All Might seized the chance to lavish attention upon your breasts. Lifting you into his arms, his lips began to move away from yours, causing you to whine in disapproval. The whine soon transformed into a gasp as he kissed his way down to your breasts before taking one in his mouth and cupping the other in his hand. Swirling his tongue around the tip, he began to gently nip and tug at your bud all while fondling the other held in his hand. Every movement elicited a moan from you, and you took the opportunity to thread your fingers through his blond locks, tugging on them to bring him closer.

Soon though, it wasn’t enough. Your core felt hot as your body began to hunger for him. The beginnings of a fire had been stoked and soon you were consumed by it. All you could sense was him. The sensation of his lips upon yours. The feel of his hands on your skin. But it wasn’t enough. There was a want, no-a need, for All Might to touch you more. To touch you there. Only he could satiate this impossible, overwhelming craving. Your fingers clenched around his hair as your pussy throbbed from desire.

”Ple-please I-I need more,” you breathed.

Lifting his head to meet your eyes, All Might asked, “Mhm what was that princess? You want me to touch you?”

Diverting his attention from your chest, his fingers once again made their way under your skirt, teasing the edge of your pussy in long, languid strokes.

“Look at that, so wet, and it’s all for me. Are you really that desperate?” He taunted.

Pushing your panties aside, All Might slipped a finger inside of your cunt eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden stretch. Teasing your clit in small circles with his thumb, he slowly began to thrust his index finger in your pussy, twirling his finger around inside of you to toy with you even more. Every movement drew out a moan from you as he worked you open with expert ease, knowing exactly what to do to make you crumble into the palm of his hand. Not long after, he added a second digit and increased the pace, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel yourself on the precipice of release when suddenly All Might’s fingers abruptly slowed down, reeling you back and refusing to let you fall. Tears of frustration sprung to your eyes as the coil within you ached for release. All Might continued to torment you, building up the speed of his thrusts, bringing you to the brink of an orgasm, like a wave crashing onto the shore, but every time he sensed you were about to come, his touch would disappear without ever allowing release. Every time he denied you, the coil inside you wrung impossibly tighter, so tight that it felt like it was burning you from the inside. Your head spun from the need for release as tears leaked from your eyes. Beads of sweat decorated your brow as your breathing morphed into a heavy pant from the physical exertion All Might was putting your body through. Letting out a cry of frustration, your body bucked against him, looking for some much needed friction, but All Might only let out a tut at your miserable state.

“What do you want, girl? I want to hear you beg.” He sneered at you, flicking at your clit.

“Please-please let me come A-All Might.” You pleaded, letting out a moan as his fingers sunk inside your pussy.

“You know that only good girls get to come. Good girls who know who they belong to. Now tell me (y/n), have you been a good girl?”

“Y-yes, I’ve been a good girl. I promise to always be a good girl. Just please let me come.” you begged, mind hazy from his ministrations. At this point, you would say just about anything to please him if it meant that you would get to come.

“Really?” he says, sounding surprised, “Because good girls know who they belong to, and it seems like you forgot that today. I will only ask once, who do you belong to y/n?”

His tone turned impossibly dark, and with it his fingers plunged even deeper into you, giving you hard thrusts in time to his words.

“Y-you. Only you,” You groaned out.

“I want to hear you say it.” Pressing his face against your ear, All Might’s warm breath hit your face as he harshly whispered, “Who do you belong to?”

“I belong to you All Might!” you cried out as he scissored his fingers inside you at the exact same time.

At your reply, a pleased smile spread across his face as he purred out, “Good.”

With that, his fingers gave a brutal thrust, sinking into your cunt so deep they seemed to physically push you over the edge, the coil inside of you finally springing free. At having been denied so many times, your orgasm flooded over you, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as your cunt clamped hard around his fingers, your orgasm so violent that you started to see stars. White hot waves of pleasure crashed over you, wracking their way up your spine, clouding your vision as your body trembled from trying to keep up. Your senses became numb as a sea of ecstasy engulfed your body. The only thing you were aware of was the pleasure coursing its way through your body, and you voluntarily let yourself get lost in the sensations, letting it completely consume you. You barely even noticed your body crumpling against the wall, completely giving out. Strong arms caught you as large hands wrapped around your back to brace you.

After what felt like hours, you finally began to descend from the high of your orgasm. Slowly recovering, your limbs shook as your senses came back to you. When you regained your vision, you raised your head to meet All Might’s eyes, your breathless, panting gasps being the only sound to fill the air. With his anger finally abated, a gentle, calming peacefulness filled the room, the likes of which you had never experienced with All Might. He kept his eyes trained on you, studying you in a way that you had never seen. It looked like he was looking at you for the first time, seeing you in a new light. Without even seeming to realize it, he raised his hand to rest his palm against your stomach in an almost (dare you even say it) tender way. Having never seen him behave in such a way (and doubting you would ever see it again), you held your breath, savoring the moment.

All too soon though, the moment broke. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, All Might’s face regained his usual wicked smile as he stood up.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, princess.” He stated, beginning to make his way toward the door. “Try anything like that again, and I won’t be so nice.”

Opening your front door, he turned back once more, pinning you down with his blazing blue eyes. “I have some business to attend to now, but I’ll be back in awhile. I’ll be visiting more often to check up on our little development. Expect me soon.”

Then, without another word, he was gone.

Staring at the place he had stood moments ago, your head spun as you tried to make sense of everything you had learned about the man from this encounter. You knew that you would never be a normal family (you were having a baby with the number one villain after all), but in his own sadistic, overly possessive way it seemed that he cared.

If you were smart, you would’ve left him a long time ago. But in reality, that option ceased to exist the moment you met him. There was no going back after meeting a man like All Might. Really though, you found that you had no desire to go back to your life before him. Something about him drew you in and refused to let go. You knew that what you felt for him was love, but you were much too scared to ever admit it outloud. Strangely though, you found comfort in the fact that something about you seemed to attract him towards you in much the same way, as he always came back. And if tonight was any indication, it seemed that he had no intention of letting go. You weren’t so naive to assume he loved you in the traditional way, but deep down, so deep he would never fully understand it himself, there had to be a small fraction of him that loved you as you loved him. You knew you would never have a perfect relationship with him, hell you doubted that you would even have a healthy one, but maybe, just maybe things would be alright in the end.

[forever-rogue]

Hii! From Prompt List 1 can u do number 3,51 and 243 w javier peña please ✨

Also i love ur writings so much ⭐

3. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

51. "Go on them, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

243. "Oh my God, you're in love with her!"

Enjoy!

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Tell me," there was nothing but venom lacing your voice as you stared at Javier. Your face was slick with tears as you tried to keep your lips from trembling. You wanted to break down, gods knew you did, but you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You would do that as soon as he walked out of your apartment for what would be the last time, "go on then, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

"Don't do this cariño," the bastard had the audacity to try and call you by your pet name, "you know this is the way. The only way."

"You're such a damn liar," you hissed at him. You should have seen this coming. You should have known. 

You shouldn't have fallen in love with Javier Peña.

"We always knew what we were doing was wrong," it was a meek insistence, hollow and empty and neither of you quite believed it, "it was never supposed to go this far."

"This far? This far?" you wanted to scream, to grab his shoulders and shake him, to knock some sort of sense into him, but instead you just stared at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears, "did you think we would fuck and that’s it? I told you it was never going to be just that. And you never seemed to have a problem with that."

"You need to stop," this time it was more firm and his nostrils flared as he tried to control the hit of rage that had seemed into his bones, "we both knew what this was from the start. It was just sex."

"You're here, in my apartment, lying to my face," you sniffled as you dabbed at your eyes and wished you would wake up to find this was a horrible dream. You wished you'd wake up, wrapped in his arms while he slept soundly, like you had so many other times. You wished, you wished, you wished. But that didn't change the reality of the situation, nor the gravitas of it, "if you can look in my eyes and tell me you don't love me - never loved me - do it. If you can do it, I'll let this go."

"You're being ridiculous," he huffed and rolled his eyes ever so slightly as his hands went to his hips. 

"I'm being ridiculous?" your voice rose up about two octaves as you realized just how hysterical you did sound. But it didn't matter - once Javier had made up his mind, he was a stubborn piece of work. But you refused to let this go, "I'm not the grown man that won't even admit his own feelings. That runs every time something comes up. That shuts out everyone and everything anytime it gets real."

"Maybe you're just thinking too much into this!" and there it was - the fiery temper that he was famous for. It wasn't shocking because it had suddenly jumped out; it was shocking because he'd never raised his voice at you, "maybe you just want to make something out of nothing! It was never anything - it was just sex. Why can't you just accept that?"

"Am I supposed to be scared of you?" you raised your voice and yelled back with just as much as anger and spite as he spit at you, "you're a liar and a coward. You can't even look at me - if you don't love me fucking tell me!"

"I'm not doing this right now," he huffed as stepped over the threshold, shoulders rising and falling in rapid movements as tired to control his anger, "I'm done - whatever we had, its over now."

"Javier," you tried to reach for his hand, but he was quick to pull out of your grasp, causing you to sigh heavily, "don't walk away - not like this."

"There's nothing left to say," he insisted quietly, staring at the floor, rather than daring to look in your eyes, "I'll see you at work and that's that. Everything else is done. Obviously you cannot handle this."

"You're just going to walk away," you were incredulous as a few tears of grief and anger rolled down your cheeks, "fuck you, Javier. I hate you." 

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else. Tears were heavily pouring down your cheeks and spilling onto the cool slide as you sank to the floor. Small ugly little sobs racked your body as you gave up and in to your pathetic inner, upset self. You loved him, you really, really did. You knew that. 

You knew he loved you too. You knew he was scared. Damn scared. And it was okay - if he would have opened up to you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You look like shit,” Steve barely looked up from his coffee and morning review of documents as Javier stormed in, practically slamming himself down in his chair. He groaned and flipped Steve the middle finger before reaching for his cigarettes, effortlessly lighting it up and leaning back, “what happened to you?”

Javier closed his eyes but remained silent, a vain attempt at letting his mind wander too far. He hadn’t slept the night before, mind and thoughts racing over and over with snippets of his conversation with you. Your words had stuck in his mind all night: coward, coward, coward. And you had been right. 

He was a coward; pathetic and scared all because he didn’t want to risk getting hurt. Or hurting you. And in the end he had managed to do both. It was never supposed to go this far, it was never supposed to be anything more than sex, but the lines had become so blurred and so fast, and before he knew - he was in love.

And that terrified the shit out of him. 

So he reacted how he tended to do; to push you away. To isolate himself. It was supposed to be easy, supposed to work. All it had down was leave him with regret eating him up alive. He should have admitted you were right, he should have confessed. If there was anyone worth taking a chance on - it was you. He’d known it was you from the first time you’d had sex it was just...different. Different from every other experience he’d had. And gods, how he’d slowly fallen for all the little things you did, all your little quirks. 

Your smile, that laugh, those eyes that seemed to convey a million emotions at once. Your steadfast stubbornness, the fact that you always called him on his bullshit, how you never backed down from confrontation, how you gave so much to others and asked for so little. How you’d chide him for getting even a papercut, and how you’d love him, even when he didn’t ask you to. How you;d take him in your arms, wordlessly, and give him everything he needed and then some, how you’d chase away his fears and pain. How - 

Everything. 

He was in deep, and when it came down to the wire, he’d run. Like a liar and a coward. 

His eyes snapped open and landed on the desk, the spot you normally occupied and found it empty. A scowl tugged on his features as his brows knitted together, “where is she?”

“Hmm?” Steve looked back up and followed Javi’s line of sight before he shrugged lightly, “I talked to her this morning, said she wasn’t feeling good.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed under his breath, just enough for Steve to hear, “did she say when she’s coming back?”

“I dunno, Javi,” Steve sighed heavily, “she’s a grown woman, if she’s not feeling well, she’s not feeling well. She’ll be back when she’s better. Calm down.”

“Steve-”

“Oh god - you’re in love with her. Aren’t you?” the smirk tugging on his features was undeniable as Javier rolled his eyes but refused to look over, “I knew it - everyone knew it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his mouth went dry as he looked at his partner and felt like slamming his head against the wall. Of course. It’s so obvious.

“I mean...it’s just...everyone’s known, Javi,” Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on his face, “it’s so obvious. You’re different because of her - for her. You might be the last person to know. Shit...you haven’t told her, have you?”

Javier made a small sound in his throat but otherwise remained silent as he stared at your desk. Not feeling well my ass, he thought to himself before running a hand over his tired face. 

But you didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or - 

Shit. He had really messed up. 

You were all he could think about, plaguing his waking and sleeping hours as he tried to figure out what to do. His mind was on you as he sat in the office and smoked cigarette after cigarette and glossed over paperwork. You were in his every thought as he and Steve chased after some of Escobar’s men; so much that he almost slipped up and let them get away. 

By Friday afternoon, he couldn’t handle it any longer. This was ridiculous and he was going to put an end to it all, one way or another.

Javier almost jumped out of his seat, grabbing his leather jacket and half empty pack of cigarettes without a word as he stormed out of the office. Steve barely looked up in time to catch him, his question dying on his tongue as he watched his partner storm out. He didn’t have to ask to know exactly what was going on.

Finally, he thought to himself shaking his head, finally. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Open the door," Javier's voice was commanding but it still managed to shake as he rapped his knuckles against the peeling paint of your door, "cariño, I know you're in there…"

And you were. You were curled up on the couch in your pajamas, an empty bottle of wine on the table as an old, cheesy romance movie played in the background. The lights were off and you were tired, but you still couldn't manage to find sleep. 

You'd avoided going into the office for the last couple of days, feigning illness and earning a scoff from the ambassador, but nothing else was said. In the time you'd been in Colombia, you'd never so much as used a single sick day, so they didn't question you. But of course your partners did. Well, one of them. The other had known exactly what was going and it had been eating him up inside, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

But his little heart to heart with Steve had inspired him - practically shoved him in the right direction. You'd been on his mind rent free since he'd left. Hell - for much longer than that.

"Go away," you managed to croak out before burrowing further into your pillow, feeling a fresh wave of tears spill down your cheeks at his presence. Knowing you almost had him but didn't was heartbreaking, "you made it clear we have nothing, Javier.”

“Open the damn door,” there was a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard before - was that...desperation? Javier paused and sighed heavily, “please. I-I...fuck, I fucked up.”

“If you’re going to play some sort of cruel joke, save your breath,” you huffed, “like you said, we are nothing. We’ll be work partners and that’s it.”

There was a beat of silence and a part of you thought he left, you were almost relieved at the thought. But before you knew it, you heard the keys jingling in the lock and the door opened; you cursed yourself for giving him a spare set. Either way, he probably could have figured out how to get in anyways. He just couldn’t let it go.

“Cariño,” he came and swiftly made his way over to you, frowning when he saw you all curled up and the discarded mess around you, "I-"

"Go away, Javi," it was a pathetic plea as you glanced up at him. His heart felt it was going to shatter and break at the sight of your red, glossy eyes as you sniffled at him, "haven't you done enough? Or should I be apologizing for having feelings and being honest about them?"

"I should be begging you for forgiveness," he dropped to his knees beside you, a hand tentatively reaching out to you, as he tried to see if you would pull away. Despite wanting to, instead wishing you could yell and scream, you stay rooted in position as he gently pushed your hair out of your hair. He brushed his thumb gently over your cheek as your eyes fluttered closed at the familiar touch, "I am so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" your brow furrowed at his words, "you made yourself very clear."

"I fucked up - you're right. I am a liar and a coward," he confessed as your eyes snapped back open to meet his. They were gentle, softened in the corners with the crinkles that you adored so much, "I realized I had feelings and I panicked. I shut you out and hurt you."

"My head hurts, Javier," you sighed slightly, "just get to the point."

"I love you," he admitted and suddenly it felt your heart had dropped into your stomach as you stared at him. He was sure you must have heard the wild beating of his heart as he tried to anticipate your reaction, "I-I'm in love with you."

"If this is your idea of a joke," you moved his hand away and sat up, trying to prepare yourself for any possibility, "its even more fucked up than just breaking my heart. I knew what this started this and I should have stopped it when I started to catch feelings but I-"

But Javier didn't let you say anything further. Instead, he cut you off by crashing his lips onto yours and kissing you deeply - slowly and with meaning. It was an easy dance, one you'd done hundreds of times before. But this time just felt...different.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, and yours wound around his neck. Effortless and easy, just like everything with him was. It was anything frenzied or hurried, but slow and gentle as he tried to convey his every thought and feeling through his touch. He thought his heart might burst when he felt your smile whilst his lips, as you carded a hand through his dark locks.

Only when you were both breathless and drunk off of each other did you pull apart. He stared at you, his gaze soft as you grabbed his face and delicately cradled it before pressing another kiss to his lips.

"I hope this means what I think it means or I'm going to have to murder you," you whispered against his lips, as his own tugged into a smile, "because I am in love you and I don't know if I can ever change that."

"It means I'm an idiot," he admitted, "a cowardly fool that ran when things got real - although they were always real. Its obvious, isn't it? I just never realized."

"That's because you gave a thick skull, Peña," you gently tapped a knuckle against the side of his head, "and you need to learn to be more open - with me anyway. You don't have to be afraid, Javi. Not with me; I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I know you - the real you - and nothing about you scares me or whatever you think it is. I love you and that means every little bit of you."

"I…" he paused for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly as your words washed over him. His heart had never felt warmer or more light as he realized the immense weight your words held. He closed his eyes and nodded, gently pressing his forehead against yours, "I love you. Fully and completely cariño. Even if I am an idiot."

"My idiot," you promised softly, "just talk to me next time, okay? Don't run and hide - stay with me. It'll be okay, you will always have me."

"Fuck," he whispered as he pulled you into his arms and wrapped you up in the tightest hug possible, "I'm sorry - so sorry. I love you."

"I love you, Javier," you whispered, "stay with me?"

"Always."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[someonestolemyshoes]

Hello, My Queen of Steaming Levihan Content...!!

If you want/whenever you can, could you please bless our ship with Levi getting hot watching Hans training in sport bra and tight ass shorts? (Like, he absolutely dislike mess but watch Hans goes all sweaty, with fire in her eyes and smile as she pulls her shirt out, and then all her muscles flex and go taut, grunting and breathing deep doing heavy exercises or competing with Nanaba in weight lifting would definitely make Levi wonder or remember how powerful it would be to feel her body hot like - alive like that - because she was having the time of her life f*cking the brains out him.)

Or, Captain Levi body worshipping Squad Leader Hans during heavy exercises because she.is.just.hot.as.hell.from.brain.to.toe.

Many thanks!!!!

I love your writing!!!

I played around with the prompt a little because I had an Image in my head as soon as I read this, I hope you don't mind :)

Order up! Careful, this one is spicy.

Hange stretched her arms over her head with careless ease, popping her spine and rolling her shoulders with a nonchalant grace. If she sparred with the same manic fervor she slayed titans, she’d stand no chance against this soldier bare-handed—for all Hange was tall, she was too slight to take the great oaf out by strength alone.

The lumbering recruit seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He leered, mopped sweat from his heavy brow and blew snot out one of his nostrils. Levi’s lip curled in disgust. Hange’s grin broadened.

**

Levi despised sparring.

It was an activity Erwin seemed to reserve solely for blistering summer days, when the sun arched high overhead without so much as one solitary cloud to temper the heat.

Today was no different. Levi stood at the inner edge of a great circle of onlookers, all gathering around a chalk ring etched unevenly into the dirt, where two measly recruits were heaving and wheezing as they grappled, feet scrambling for purchase in the dry earth. The rules were simple; the first to set foot outside the circle lost. Winner stayed on to face the next challenger.

The taller of the two soldiers won out. He slammed his opponent into the ground outside the edge of the ring, a ploom of fine dirt puffing into the air right at Levi’s feet. The sandy earth scratched at his throat and stuck to his lips and tongue, grainy between his teeth. The elation from the brats victory gave way quickly to a nervous gulp as the next recruit entered the ring. He was a tall, bulky thing, far more brawn than brain, with a crooked nose and deep-set eyes. He sniffed hard and spat into the dirt, rolled his neck on his meaty shoulders. The victor shuffled his feet into an unsteady brace and raised his fists. The poor bastard should have done himself a favour and stepped down with some modicum of dignity—his opponent left him face down ass up on the filthy floor before he could throw a single punch.

The burly soldier naturally attracted more meatheads. Testosterone fuelled idiots with no combat sense, barrelling in with heavy handed offense. Levi watched with disinterest as shirtless bull after shirtless bull took to the circle, feral and uncalculated in every move, baited by the hoots and hollers of their peers and the dizzy prospect of victory.

The reigning champion shoved and grunted his way through four successive rounds undefeated. He broke a sweat only from the heat. Despite their vigor, none of his opponents had enough weight to throw around to stand a chance. Levi took a liberal swig from his water bag, dangling it at his side and looking idly around for the next contender; he saw plenty of men pushing and shoving one another, snickering like fucking kids, while others averted their gazes, less than willing to draw attention. Plenty of the women looked about as bored as Levi felt, none fooled by the show of muscle and bravado.

And then somebody new stepped into the ring, and the excited buzz dulled to a murmur of intrigue.

Hange Zoë was grinning brightly, tying her hair up into a scruffy ponytail. Most of the soldiers had stripped themselves of their shirts, leaving the men bare-chested and the women clad in the black, military issue chest bands, but Hange was still sporting a loose vest, a size or two too big for her thin frame. Her face had a dewy glow from the heat, a band of pink over her cheeks and nose where the sun had caught her. She had kicked off her boots and rolled the tight legs of her pants up to the knee. Her bare feet sank lightly into the loose dirt as she stepped up to the edge of the circle.

From behind her, Mike called out. “Fight fair, Hans.”

Hange turned to shoot him a thumbs up, and hollered, “You’re getting the drinks in, remember!”

“Only if you win.”

Hange waved him off with a throaty laugh. The burly recruit eyed Hange with some confusion as she wandered closer, pausing briefly to tug her goggles off and chuck them over to Nanaba, who caught them deftly and shoved them into her back pocket.

Levi dipped slowly into a crouch, gaze following Hange’s idle path into the centre of the ring. He’d sooner shit his pants than admit it out loud, but Hange, despite all her pestering and prying and endless racket, still intrigued him. He found himself watching her often, across the mess hall, out in the courtyard, zipping through the trees during regular training drills, or else tuning into the sound of her voice while she talked Erwin’s ear off about some bullshit theory or another.

He preferred keeping Hange at arms length, but the distance made it difficult to get a good read on her. Levi had tried valiantly to ignore her existence as much as possible, but there was something about Hange that captured his attention time and time again. Something in her wide smile and bright eyes, her long, lean frame, in the way she carried herself, made his gut uncomfortably warm and tight, at times. Levi didn’t particularly enjoy this brand of curiosity.

Hange stretched her arms over her head with careless ease, popping her spine and rolling her shoulders with an easy, careless grace. If she sparred with the same manic fervor she slayed titans, she’d stand no chance against this soldier bare-handed—for all Hange was tall, she was too slight to take the great oaf out by strength alone.

The lumbering recruit seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He leered, mopped sweat from his heavy brow and blew snot out one of his nostrils. Levi’s lip curled in disgust. Hange’s grin broadened.

“You need a break before we go? Grab some water? Take a piss? I can wait.” She said, bracing her hands on her hips. The recruit’s knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. He squared himself, and Hange shrugged. “Take that as a no. Alright then.”

Hange planted her feet, weight on her front leg and arms drawn up in defense. For a moment, the pair of them stood tense and still. And then Hange lunged.

Her opponent reacted in kind. He barrelled forwards, shoulder low, ready to plow Hange’s smaller frame right back out of the circle as soon as she locked with him—but at the last moment, Hange stepped cleanly to one side. She teetered on the balls of her feet, centring her weight while the soldier skidded to a halt, kicking up great clouds of dirt and throwing his weight back, barely stopping inside the ring. Hange blew her fringe out of her face.

“Damn. I was banking on a big bastard like you taking longer to stop.” Despite the setback, Hange’s smile was manic. She lunged again, but this time the soldier held back. There was some satisfaction in his caution, and Levi was pleasantly surprised at the way Hange weaved around his haphazardly thrown punches, quick on her feet, efficient in a way Levi hadn’t expected. His eyes were drawn to the bulge of muscle in her calves, in her thighs as she propelled herself around inside the ring. His gaze lingered on her back and shoulders as she threw her punches, thick knots swelling beneath smooth, tan skin.

The crowd hissed as one when the huge recruit landed a fist square into Hange’s gut. She buckled over his arm, air gusting out of her, but she sprung back smartly out of his reach while she caught her breath. Her gaze turned steely as she looked up. Sharp. Calculating. She wiped spit from the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist. Exertion had flushed her face and sweat glistened on her brow, running in thin rivulets over her cheek, her jaw, down the column of her throat to pool in the dips at her collar. Levi’s stomach tightened, heat flooded his face.

Hange’s chest heaved. In the quiet that had fallen around them, he could hear each rasp of her breath, quick and catching in her throat. Strands of hair hung wild and loose around her face, damp with sweat, sticking to her brow and the side of her neck. Thin veins protruded on her forearms, wrapping around tense, twitching muscle as she flexed and clenched her fingers, gathering herself. Levi swallowed, his mouth painfully dry.

Hange held her ground, this time. She squared her feet, but waited in place, eyes locked on her target. The recruit kept his distance. His trepidation demonstrated one thing—he was marginally smarter than Levi had originally given him credit for. The change in his challenger's tactic made him think.

Unfortunately, Hange was smarter. And faster.

She darted around behind him and cut the heel of her hand up under one side of his jaw. His head snapped sideways but a great meaty foot slammed flat into the dirty, keeping him from toppling over. If Hange were a more desperate fighter, she might make the mistake of hitting him again—but she predicted him perfectly. To counterbalance, he threw his weight back round, twisting towards her. Hange sunk low, jammed her leg against the back of his calf and caught his arm in both her hands, and with a loud grunt and a solid heave, Hange pulled him over her shoulder. His back hit the ground with a resounding thud and a huge huff of fine dust.

Hange straightened up. The crowd erupted with cheers, and Hange smiled, delighted, as she offered the soldier a hand and yanked him up from the ground. She pulled the hem of her shirt up to wipe the sweat from her eyes, exposing her flat stomach and the grid of muscle bunching there, tightening with each panted exhale. Levi’s gaze caught on the waistband of her pants, slung low on her hips, exposing a defined V that dipped out of sight beneath the fabric. An involuntary groan slithered out of Levi’s throat. He masked it with a quick, gruff cough, and took a few long gulps from his water.

The circle of onlookers disintegrated slowly. Mike and Nanaba approached Hange with small, proud smiles, Mike clapping her between the shoulders. Hange strapped her goggles back into place and took the water bag Nanaba offered her with a grateful smile, swigging greedily from it. Levi watched the way her throat bobbed with each swallow, eyes stuck on the hinge of her jaw where skin pulled tight over sharp bone. His tongue darted out to lick involuntarily at his dry lips.

Hange swilled the gritty dirt from her mouth with one last mouthful of water and spat it out. Saliva dripped from her full lower lip onto her chin. Levi forcibly pulled a face—he should be disgusted, because she's fucking disgusting. He schooled his features into his signature look of distaste, just in case anybody caught him looking at her. Hange licked her lip with a grin, tongue red and wet against sharp, white teeth.

"Good fight, Captain?"

Levi trained his gaze intensely forward. Erwin had snuck up on him. He grunted, and sipped slowly at his water.

"Hange's full of surprises, as always."

Another noncommittal hum. Levi rolled his eyes up and to the side to where Erwin stood, arms crossed over his chest, taking in the scene. Levi clicked his tongue loudly and drew himself up to his feet.

"She's an idiot," Levi said. "He would've beat her to shit if he caught her."

"Mm. But he didn't."

"Lucky."

Erwin looked down at him with his brows raised. "Not skillful?"

Levi shrugged. He caught another glimpse of Hange between the dispersing soldiers—she had shed her vest completely now, and flung it over one muscle-bound shoulder, one hand braced on her cocked hip while the other articulated wildly in the air. She was still all smiles, the sun glinting from her goggles when she turned her head this way and that, threw it back in a laugh that carried over the space between them. Her chest was bound tight in a breast band and her stomach, all subtle lines and lean muscle, defined sharply as she cackled, bunching and shifting beneath her sweat-shiny skin.

"She's fast."

"She fights smart." Erwin smirked. "If a little dirty."

Levi would never have called Hange's technique dirty. He'd seen his share of dirty fights. He'd been in enough of them; Hange using her wit in lieu of matched strength was strategic. It was fair. Dirty was reserved for knives and broken bottles, and extra hands hidden away in dark corners.

"It was a stupid risk," Levi said, in favour of the compliment. "If he'd had two brain cells to rub together she'd never stand a chance."

"You're not giving her enough credit. You think Hange would pick a fight if she didn't think she could win it?"

"Yes," Levi said without pause. He had seen one close call too many because Hange had thrown herself in the path of one of the freakier titans, without a single thought for the consequences. Erwin chuckled quietly at his side and shrugged.

"It's nice that you care about her, I suppose."

"Who said I gave a shit about what trouble that freak gets herself into?"

Erwin said nothing more. There was an irritating smirk pulling at half his mouth. Levi curled his lip up in anger and turned to storm away, when a loud voice rang out behind him.

"Erwin! Levi!"

Levi tensed. He turned slowly back around and eyed Hange as she approached, still barefoot, still shirtless, still glistening under the afternoon sun. Her skin was mottled with dirt, lines smudged on her face where she had fruitlessly wiped the sweat away. Up close, Levi could see the way the military issue pants clung to her legs. The fabric was thin and flexible, ideal for use with the manoeuvre gear. It hugged her thighs in a way that made Levi's stomach flip. He ran his tongue over his teeth and looked somewhere past her right hip.

"Came to watch, Commander?" Hange stopped in front of them, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Had to see what all the fuss was about. Who's round is it?"

Hange jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards Mike. Try as he might, Levi couldn't keep his eyes off of her for long—he found himself staring, transfixed, at the way her bicep swelled when her arm curled. He followed the line of her arm to her shoulder, and across her collar, all the way down to the fabric of her chest band before he caught himself. Face hot and gut tingling, he turned his face to the side.

"Big idiot never wins," Hange said.

"Rude."

Levi glanced up. Mike had arrived at Hange's shoulder, floppy hair falling over his eyes, but he wasn't looking at Hange or at Erwin. He stared at Levi with a horrible, smug expression. Levi scowled at him and shifted uncomfortably, surreptitiously hanging his water bag in front of his crotch to adjust his pants.  Fucking ridiculous. Half hard like a horny teenager.

"New bet," Mike said. "Fight Levi next. I'll buy Sina's finest vine if you kick his tiny ass."

Hange shot him an open, considering look, cocking her head. "You know, I've never seen you spar before."

Levi made a gruff noise in the back of his throat. He felt uncomfortably beneath her intense stare, like one of her specimen samples, pinned and mounted. Exposed. His groin tightened at the unbidden thought. After a moment's consideration, Hange shot him a sunny smile and threw her arm over his shoulder, jerking him into her side.

"I'll need a few practice rounds first. See what I'm working with. You'll do it, right, Levi?"

"Fuck off."

Levi kept his hands clenched around the neck of his water bag. Hange smelled strongly of sweat, salty and earthy from the dirt clinging to her skin. Gross. But to his own mortification Levi found himself drawing a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. Warmth flooded his gut. Hange felt hot against him, and solid, strong. The arm hooked around his neck held him tight, and the thigh pressed against his own felt like rock, unyielding.

Levi's mind offered him obscene involuntary thoughts, of digging his fingers into her thighs until the flesh bruised white under the pressure, using that firm grip to yank her hips back onto his—

He dug his elbow into her ribs. Hange shimmied away in discomfort, and Levi stepped neatly to the side.

"Mean, Levi," Hange pouted. She rubbed at the sore spot and sighed forlornly. "Sounds like a bust, Mike. We'll settle for Trost's piss water whiskey this time."

Hange shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Are you two coming? It's on Mike."

"Oi."

Mike's fingers pinched at Hange's waist for her cheek. Levi stared at the spot where they gripped her, and his own grip around the water bag twitched and tightened. Her skin looked soft, and Mike touched her so easily, unbothered by the way her firm body felt in his hands. A rush of white hot envy pulsed through him, then. Levi struggled to swallow it down.

"Can't," Erwin said. "I have early meetings and I know too well what the three of you are like."

Hange shot him a wicked smile. "Excellent company?"

"Terrible influences. Levi will go though, I'm sure."

Hange turned his way again, a bright  hopeful look on her face.

"Like hell."

Hange's shoulders dropped. She recovered from her disappointment quickly enough, slinging her arm around Nanaba's neck instead, and clenching her fist into the back of Mike's shirt. "More for us then! We'll be at Smokey’s, if you change your minds!"

Hange dragged her friends around and the three of them set off in the opposite direction, to the place Hange had abandoned her boots. Levi looked slyly at Erwin, then back at Hange's retreating form. He bit back a groan when she bent over to scoop up her discarded shoes, cloth pulling sinfully tight over her ass as she did.

“You shouldn’t stare so much, Levi.” Erwin had a small smirk on his face, watching Levi out of the corner of his eye. “It makes it seem like you might be interested in her.”

Levi glowered up at Erwin, cheeks flushing. “Mind your damn business.”

Erwin held his hands up in placation. “I just thought I’d let you know. In case you didn’t want anybody getting the wrong impression.”

Levi wanted to punch the sly, shit-eating grin off of Erwin’s face. He turned sharply on his heel instead, throwing the darkest look he could muster for good measure, and stormed past the small crowds of recruits, lazily getting back to their own sparring practice.

**

Levi stepped under the dribbling shower head, cursing as the tepid water slipped through his hair and down the back of his neck. Most days he grumbled at the temperature, but between the scorching summer sun and the relentless heat burning low in his belly, Levi was thankful for the chill.

He knocked his forehead to the cool tile wall and stared down at his stubbornly hard cock.

He had escaped to the privacy of the officers bathroom as soon as he left Erwin, locking himself in the stall and willing his erection to subside, but no matter what unappealing images he focused on, Levi couldn't wish the damn thing away. The skin of his neck tingled where Hange's arm had wrapped around him. He could still feel the heat of her on his thigh, smell the sweat on her skin.

Levi growled in frustration, slamming a palm roughly into the wall. This entire situation was foreign to him. Levi prided himself on very little, but he had thought that he, at least, had some substantial control over his own body. He knew with some base instinct how to move it, how to utilise it and make every move to the best of his advantage in any situation. He had trained it well, built powerful muscles and honed sharp reflexes. Levi had never found himself so out of control of it, before.

He grabbed the soap and scrubbed roughly at his hair. Cleaning was always a cathartic exercise, a release of stress. Levi washed the sweat and dirt from his scalp and ran the soap over his face, his shoulders and arms, down his chest and low on his belly. His fingers trailed over the thin trail of hair beneath his naval. Muscle twitched beneath skin. His cock throbbed for attention.

Fucking Hange. Somehow she was a pest even now, when she was nowhere to be seen, out drinking away Mike's measly dividends in some sleazy back alley bar.

Try as he might, Levi couldn't shake the image of her sparring out of his head. No matter what he did to divert his attention, she crept her way back in, glistening skin and strong muscle, mussed hair and heavy breaths. Levi ground his forehead into the tile and clenched his jaw, hand still low on his belly. He wasn’t some fucking pervert, he didn’t make a habit of jerking off over his comrades and he didn’t particularly want to start now—and about Hange of all people.

In fact, Levi didn’t make a habit of jerking off much at all. Now and then, a quick, perfunctory thing, to relieve a little tension, blow off steam. But there was never a great desire behind it, never this insistent, unwavering need. This feeling was new. It was infuriating.

Recognising that he was fighting a losing battle, Levi sighed and closed his eyes. He let his hand wander lower, gripping his length and stroking over it. His belly tightened and his hips pressed helplessly forward into his fist. A low moan bled out of his throat.

It should have been easy to make this quick. To rush to the finish, clean up and pretend it never even happened, but every flash of shiny bronze skin or shifting muscle made him pause, guilt pooling like acid in his stomach. It was just so hard not to think about her. Impossible Not when he could so clearly picture the way those thighs might feel curled up around his hips, hard, firm, holding him close; not when he could so vividly hear her heavy, panted breaths in his ear, and the choked moans bleeding up from low in her throat.

The shower sputtered overhead. Levi drew his palm over the flushed head of his cock, smearing the thick bead of pre-come over his hand, gliding it down over his shaft. He wondered, idle and shame-faced, how Hange’s hand would feel wrapped around him. She has calluses, like him, but her fingers are longer and rougher than Levi’s, and would she grip him as firmly? Would she tug at him roughly, make him hiss and twitch under her touch, or would she treat him with the same reverence she does her titan samples—slow, methodical, analytical. Trail a line up the underside of him, from root to tip, maybe press her nail into his slit just to see the way he squirms.

Levi thumbed at his slit, too, and aborted a loud, choked groan at the sensation. He could imagine the way Hange would toy with him all too well; the glint in her eye as she catches the fluid leaking from him, spreading it around with the tip of her finger and revelling in the way his cock jumps, oversensitive. Draw her slick finger up to her mouth, maybe, push it past her plump lips and lave her tongue over the digit, tasting him. Levi sucked in a shuddering breath, hips bucking.

Maybe she’d taste more. Lay herself down between his legs, palms pushing his thighs apart to make room for her broad shoulders. She’d tease him, brat that she is, trail her lips across his lower belly, barely a whisper of a touch, not nearly enough—nip her sharp teeth into the pale flesh of his inner thigh and suck at the skin until blood pooled beneath it, red welts that pulse and throb when she runs her tongue over them.

Levi nudged the head of his cock against his tight, closed fist, pushed into the squeezing grip as he conjured lude pictures of Hange with her lips pressed against him, suckling at his head languidly, until Levi raked his fingers into her scruffy hair and applied enough pressure to coax her down. He fucked into his own fist with a breathy moan, squeezing his eyes closed. In his head, she takes him right to the back of her throat, laves her tongue over him and swallows him down, and her mouth is all hot and tight and the way she moans vibrates right through him—the thought alone sent a zing of pleasure racing up his spine.

Levi’s knees trembled beneath him. He braced himself on the shower wall and stroked himself faster, huffing heavy, unsteady breaths through his nose with his lip caught between his teeth, biting hard enough to sting.

Hange would stop, if he got too close. Drag her lips over the head of his cock and slip him out of her mouth. She's all wicked, challenging smiles, in his head, eyes blown wide when Levi pushes her back onto the bed and crawls over her. Her blunt nails would claw at his back as he sucks hot, open kisses on her belly, scrapes his teeth over the peak of bone at her hips. She'd tunnel her fingers into his hair and push his face lower, use the strength of her thighs to trap him between her legs. Needy. Unreserved.

And when he's had his fill, left her spent and trembling, he would nudge her legs apart and settle his hips between them. Slide his palms over the smooth skin, dig the blunt tips of his fingers into the tense, shivering muscle. Its so fucking easy to imagine the way Hange would look, splayed out on his bed. Her long body stretched out across the mattress, fingers clutching at the sheets as he teases the head of his cock against her—so fucking wet for him—and pins her hips down with a palm pressed low on her belly. The muscle would quiver under his touch.

There was no room left in him for guilt, now. Only the bright spark of pleasure like flint in his gut, striking and catching fire as he pictured just how hot and tight she would feel wrapped around him. She'd throw her head back against the pillows, exposing the long line of her throat to Levi's hungry lips and tongue and teeth, and he would fold over her and fuck in deep, until their hips are flush and Hange is panting raggedly into his ear. The way she whines his name is sinful, high in her throat, and breathless. Desperate.

She would grip white-knuckled at the sheets as Levi rolls his hips into hers. Plant clumsy, hungry kisses against his jaw, lips wet and trembling—and she'd lick into his mouth, when he's close enough, draw him into an intoxicating kind of kiss. Levi jerked himself quick and uneven, gut clenching, imagining the way Hange's legs would squeeze hard at his hips to keep him close while he fucks her. Her breath would hitch as he grinds down into her, strong arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close as she chokes out his name, all high and airy in her throat when he tucks his hips close and pushes impossibly deeper.

Levi sucked in quick, heavy breaths. His hips stuttered forward, clumsily meeting his own unsteady strokes as his groin tightened—the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until the tension broke, and Levi came with a muffled grunt, spilling obscenely against the tile wall.

He stood still for a long while, catching his breath. The subsiding pleasure made room for shame; guilt and embarrassment flooded into the empty space, making his face hot and his stomach knot unpleasantly. He felt dirty. Some creep, unable to control his most basic urges. He scrubbed the wall down thoroughly and washed himself again, but stood in the cubicle for a long while even after the water shut off.

Worse still, he felt unsatisfied. The orgasm had relieved some of the building pressure, but it had awakened some terrible hunger, and an awful realisation.

He wanted Hange. He wanted Hange.

Fuck.

[jisungscaramel]

vexation | hyunjin

❀ genre; smut, college au, enemies au  ❀ pairing; hyunjin x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 2.7k 

[warning] strong language, explicit sexual content, dry humping, (mild) begging, hate sex

There it was: Hwang Hyunjin, name beautifully printed right above yours. You shuddered in complete disgust, not believing that you were paired with him of all people for your history presentation. There were 34 students in the class; that meant you had a whopping 97% chance of being paired with literally anyone else, but no. Your professor, Dr. Zhang, just had to pair you with him. 

Overachiever: that was an understatement. He was the type to want all of the glory for the taking, the type to enjoy making others feel like they were dumb, the type who had no issue in forsaking common morals for his own gain. 

You couldn’t fucking stand him. 

Begrudgingly, you stood up from your original seat, trudging your feet to sit next to him - at your professor’s instruction, of course. You planned on at least being polite, and you thought for a second that he might do the same, but he didn’t even bother looking at you, staring through to the front of the room, eyes stoic. If he was trying to provoke you, it was definitely working. 

You dropped your backpack to the ground, unceremoniously, sound drowning in the increasing levels of chatter in the small lecture hall, but clearly loud enough to make his composure teeter; his head jerked back a millimeter, a minuscule gesture but it was painfully obvious to you. And you let out an equally obvious slew of snickers before sitting back in the seat, neck meeting the old frayed fabric as you tilted your head back, arms stacking on one another as you folded them, woman spreading to occupy more real estate than you actually required.

You had to at least try to keep yourself amused. 

Hyunjin began scribbling mindlessly on a blank piece of paper - still acting as if you were not even there. 

He slammed the white sheet down on your knee, sending vibrations straight up your leg rather rudely. 

Asshole. 

Oh, baby, he hadn’t even started yet. 

“Okay. We’re doing our paper on I-Hotel and… I’m gonna write it. All you have to do is find these books for me at the library.” He turned to look at you with a very aggravating smirk… maybe you’d notice the tiniest hint of flirtation if the feeling of overwhelming irritation didn’t encompass you. 

But the chance passed when his countenance morphed into counterfeit concern, tapping his chin in contemplation for added effect, “although, I think the library’s computer system is down… I guess you gotta find them the old-fashioned way.” God, you just wanted to smack that smug grin right off his face. “I’d love to help you with that... but I’m just too busy…” It should’ve been illegal for intolerable people to be that gorgeous.

You blinked in complete confusion. “Ummm… excuse me?” 

“I’m… sorry… do… I… need… to … talk… slower…?”

You gingerly picked up the piece of paper, promptly getting up from your chair, glaring at him. You made sure your backpack was secure on your shoulder before dramatically lifting the note in front of his face to tear what he wrote to shreds, scattering the bits over his laptop’s keyboard. “Stick a motherfucking cactus up your ass.” 

You stormed out of that hall with your head high, not daring to look back despite your innate desire to see his response - you were sure it was priceless. 

‘I’ll just have to do this damn thing on my own.’

Oh, if it could only be that simple. 

The first thing that popped up on your laptop when you opened it from the safety of the library was an unexpected email. 

Since you ripped up my list - rather rudely I might add - I’ve attached the list of the books I require. I will be at the library at four PM sharp. Please plan accordingly. Hyunjin 

“Fuck.” 

‘Plan accordingly,’ your ass, according to you, your plan was to minimize the amount of time you had to spend dealing with Hyunjin, and you had been 100% sure he had the same sentiment… so much for that. 

Speaking of the devil, as soon as you decided to dismiss his outlandish request and settle in to get some of your research started, Hyunjin yanked your attention away from your laptop with merely his presence, almost as if your nerves were hypersensitive to his saccharine dipped aura, and most definitely not to the signature sway of his frame as he walked. 

You didn’t dare grant him the luxury of your direct gaze. Instead, you kept a close eye on him in your peripheral, hoping you’d blend in with the people around you… but there was still at least a 92% chance he’d see you.

“Did you get my sources?” and now he was right in front of you, nothing but a measly table in between. 

Your nostrils flared in an effort to not retort back at Hyunjin, eyes still fixed on your screen in a successful attempt to ignore him. 

Then he pushed your laptop closed, hand planted firmly on the device rather invasively. “Excuse me, I’m talking to you.”

You gritted your teeth, tilting your head up in a menacing stare, eyes narrowing, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you want?” 

God, you didn’t know his smile could get more fake than it already was. “I told you to get my sources for me,” his tone was exaggeratedly slow, “did you get my sources?” 

You shoved his hand away from your laptop. “Get your own sources.” 

Immediately his fake smile turned into a sincere snicker, rolling his eyes off to the side. “Uptight bitch.” 

His words sank in for a moment. “You wanna say that again?” 

He leaned over the table, face a mere six inches from yours. “Uptight,” you could feel your fists involuntarily clenching, digging into your palms what would soon be prominent crescents in a matter of seconds, “bitch.” 

You almost raised your palm to gratuitously slap him across the face but the simmering mellowness in you kept a tight grasp of your boiling anger. You leaned back in your seat in an effort to widen the physical gap (or the lack thereof) between you. “Fuck off.”

<><><><><><> 

“Hyunjin, y/n, can you both come down to the podium,” Dr. Zhang added at the end of his lecture, halting your plans to b-line straight to the library. 

As the aisles began to empty, you made your way down the steps to the front of the room, purposefully standing at the side opposite of Hyunjin, frankly paying no mind to him for all intents and purposes. 

Your professor glanced between you two, clearly noticing the oddity of the image but purposefully choosing to ignore it. 

“I noticed that both of you submitted first drafts for your paper, and at first I thought it was an accident, until I opened both files and realized you’re writing completely separate papers. Care to explain?” 

“Yeah y/n, care to explain?” What a fucking dicktard. 

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you wracked your brain for some feasible excuse. “Well,” but nothing came to mind… oh fuck it, “we’ve had issues working with each other.” 

Dr. Zhang raised an eyebrow cautiously. “Elaborate.”

“We really don’t get along.”

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Well you’re gonna have to try to find some middle ground. I’ll give you two a second chance to put a first draft together. If you can submit a collaborative piece by midnight, I’ll still give you full credit for that part. If not, it stays as a zero. Subsequently, you will keep getting zeroes for the following checkpoints if you submit them separately. Any questions?” 

“No, sir,” much to your surprise, that was the first moment thus far wherein both you and Hyunjin were on the same wavelength. 

“Good, that is all.” 

You felt like two negatively charged magnets as you walked side by side up the aisle to the exit. “I’m not getting a zero for this,” Hyunjin spoke up. 

You rolled your eyes. “At least we can agree on that.”

As the cold, crisp air of the outside refreshed your nerves, he lightly gripped your shoulder, swerving you to face him. “Look, I know we’re like oil and water, but I’m willing to at least try to get along for the grade.” His fingers trembled on your shoulder; his teeth lightly grazed his bottom lip, eyes searching yours for a sign of truce. 

Needless to say, the sentiment from him was unexpected. You exhaled deeply, brushing his hand from you. “Fine.”

<><><><><><><> 

But two hours spent alone in a library study room proved to be more difficult than originally anticipated. Trying to work together felt like pulling teeth - a true collaboration of absolute vexation.  

“What about this passage?” You pointed to some text in a book you were sifting through. 

He swiveled his chair around, only looking at your find for a solid half a second before, turning back around. “Nah, that’s not good enough to use as evidence.” 

“What the fuck, Hyunjin? You didn’t even read it.”

“I didn’t have to. I assumed whatever you found was as subpar as everything else you’ve ‘found.’”

You dropped the book on the table with a loud plonk, partially in shock at what he said and partially due to a natural tendency to want to irritate him. “Well let’s see what you ‘found,’” leaning over the table in a relaxed manner, carrying a dash of nonchalance as you scrolled through his writing. “You call this good evidence?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” You wanted to laugh at his defensive tone. 

“It’s obvious that you’re framing your own narrative by taking shit outta context. Not to mention all the ellipses and brackets are terrifically horrendous, visually. You’re taking literally all the credibility out.” 

“What do you know? I doubt you even read that article,” he dismissed your legitimate critique in a manner you unfortunately predicted. 

“As a matter of fact, I did… two. hours. ago. And you told me the article didn’t seem ‘reliable’ enough for you, but here you are… you must think I’m fucking stupid.” 

The side of his lips curved up in the slightest smirk. “Not true, I think you’re annoyingly absentminded.” 

You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time in the past minute, whispering, “fucking cockmaggot,” under your breath, diverting your attention back to your screen. 

“What did you just say?” His tone suggested he wasn’t being rhetorical - he really didn’t hear you. There was something cute and innocent about his ignorance, the way his lips formed a subtle pout unintentionally, nose wrinkling in distaste. You mentally shook the image from your head, cursing yourself for thinking he was… ‘cute’ to begin with. 

“Nothing, My Liege, nothing at all,” mocking sarcasm spilled from your lips as you parted them to give them a disapproving smack. “This is complete shit; we can’t submit this.”

Hyunjin slammed his laptop closed, standing up abruptly. The action took you by surprise, making your neck shudder in a startle. “I can’t fucking do this anymore. Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” Pent up rage was slathered all over his face, eyes twitching, eyebrows tightly knitting together, jaw unhinging from an excess of epinephrine. 

His anger diffused to you, violently charging your nerves. There was no way you were just gonna take his shit sitting down. “Why do you,” you stood up, chair rocking back from the velocity of your limbs, “have to be,” you turned around and gripped his collar with both hands, “such an insufferable asshole?” 

He was dumbfounded, wordless much to your satisfaction, but his eyes were unwavering, devoid of reaction. The time you spent stabbing each other with your unfaltering gazes felt like a goddamn eternity, tension coarse, sinfully tangible on your skin. 

It was fucking stifling. 

Before you even realized what was happening, your lips were latched together in a fervent frenzy, tension thickening for an entirely different reason now. 

There was something so breathtaking about the way his lips tightened against yours - literally. It felt like he was siphoning your soul from your body - any thought that dared to grace your mind oddly dissolved into nothingness as Hyunjin molded your lips into submission, tongue colonizing your oral cavity in an authoritative manner that was so in character for him. 

Not that you gave a fuck. 

His hands aggressively tugged at your waist; the impact of your body crashing onto his sent pangs up your spine, and in seconds, your back thudded against the wall, maintaining the momentum. You had to grip his shoulders purely for support, and definitely not because you were immersing in the moment.

You felt his grip loosen as his hands roamed downward, playfully drawing patterns on your skin with his fingers en route. And then they constricted around your thighs, lifting them up to his hips, and you hooked your ankles around his back as if it was the natural thing to do. 

The fabric of his pants became taut around the building frustration underneath, becoming oh so apparent to you when he started steady grinding against the thin fabric of your underwear - why did you have to wear a skirt today of all days?

You passed a reluctant whimper through his lips, wholly unable to deny the way your pulsing desire radiated heat through your core at the increasing friction. 

You broke away from the kiss, gasping. “Hyunjin…” you whispered almost breathlessly, desperation filling you as he continued his tantalizing test of your patience. 

“Hmmm?” There it was: that signature smug grin, but by this point, your senses were too preoccupied to even register it. 

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“Is that so?” He lifted you off the wall, pushing your laptops to either side so he could lay you on the table, spreading your legs to give him clear sight of your dampening sex. He snickered. “You look much better like this…” While ghosting one hand around your inner thighs, conveniently avoiding the place you needed him the most, he undid the button and zipper of his jeans with the other, sliding them down to his knees. 

You found yourself licking your lips at the silhouette of his bulge, now more prominent with less restricting fabric. Of course, he noticed; “so these are you true colors… I never would’ve thought you were such a dirty girl.” He brushed his fingers over the waistband of your underwear. “Where do you need me?” He pressed his thumb on your clit, “here?” 

Your teeth pressed down on your lips in an effort to stifle a moan. “Yes…” and even though you were successful the first time, there was no stopping the sounds from seeping through your lips when Hyunjin slammed his clothed erection on you once more, picking up exactly where he left off just moments ago. 

“Please, Hyunjin…” he pushed your thighs further apart, keeping them in place. 

“‘Please,’ what?” 

“I need you inside me, please.” 

His sinister laugh filled the small room. “I don’t know if you deserve it.” 

“Fucking asswipe.” 

“Now that doesn’t sound very convincing…” 

You groaned in pleasurable displeasure. “Hyunjin… please, I’m begging you. I really can’t take this.” 

“Don’t you care if someone tries to come in?” He raised an eyebrow, partially in curiosity, mostly in amusement. 

You glared right into his eyes. “No.” 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue as he stood back. “Get up.” Any urge you had to defy him before was long gone; you did as he asked and he harshly turned you around by your waist, pushing you toward one of the windows. 

While pushing you down against the glass with one hand, he reached in his front pocket with the other, grabbing a condom. He ripped the packaging with his teeth, skillfully sliding his boxers down to slip the vinyl over him. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, you aided him by pulling your panty down leaving yourself completely exposed for his taking, and you quickly pushed your hands on the glass, bracing yourself for the next few seconds, but nothing could’ve prepared you for that stretch that came. Your wrist slid down on the window pane to bite back a scream. 

“So tight.” 

 ><><><><><><><

A/N I’mma be honest: I had a fucking field day coming up with all those weird insults

[drakenology]

their s/o has kinky curly hair with Bakugo, Denki, Midoriya and Todoroki

author’s note: hey so i smoked a lot of weed and tried to do my hair afterwards and I quit so now I’m writing about kinky hair because I have a mixture of 3c and 4c hair and detangling is not poggers. Like it takes an hour to detangle my hair... I don’t have the energy for this rn. But even though it’s a fuck ton of work to take care of natural hair it’s still gorgeous and beautiful and strong and all of the fucking above. Shout out to all my kinky haired girlies. And of course shout out to my beautiful black queens. I see you boo! <3

warnings?: fluff, swearing and mentions of sexual activity (yeah, this one aint nasty... that’s the next post. shhh!) ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+

Bakugo

not gonna lie this mf ignorant as fuck 

hates that you take so long to do your hair

but loves watching the process?

“What’s that stuff?” “What does it do?” 

educates himself for your future babies

he likes a challenge so why wouldn’t he figure out how to properly take care of curly hair? 

offers to do your hair sometimes 

sometimes does it better than you do?

thinks you’re a fucking goddess.

i am a firm believer that bakugo LOVES sistas ok??

This morning is particularly stressful. You had already broken a comb or two trying to do your hair last night. So when you went to bed thinking that your hair was gonna turn out amazing you can imagine your shock when it didn’t turn out right. Well, as your taking down your twists, you see that your hair didn’t dry all the way. You try everything you can to salvage your style; you pick it, try and diffuse it but you’re still unsatisfied with the look. You sigh and just tie it up in two afro puffs. You lay your edges carefully and do some light makeup. Suddenly, you hear the bathroom door fly open to reveal your boyfriend Bakugo staring at you. 

“So that’s what’s taking you so damn long.” Katsuki says leaning against the door frame. He was going to come in and yell at you to hurry up but with the way you looked all dressed up he was completely thrown off and blown away. You were wearing a bright yellow sundress that trailed down to your ankles. It hugged your body and flowed out towards the bottom of the dress. The bathroom smelled like your hair products; tropical and fruity smells smothering his nostrils. You were like a goddess standing before him. And he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“Dammit, Katsuki wait a damn minute. I’ll be out in a second.” You said, adding the finishing touches to your face. Katsuki walks over to you and leans up against the kitchen counter to watch you finish your makeup.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” he said as he stared at your glistening mahogany skin.  You tried your best not to giggle at his stares as you turn to look at him. 

“You ready to go?” You ask, feeling a little flustered as he ran his hands up and down your hips, stopping at your ass as he cupped it with both hands. Katsuki plants a kiss on your soft, plush lips and shook his head. 

“I’d hate to waste that outfit.. but now I don’t wanna even go out. I wanna fuck you instead.” He says as he kisses your neck. OOOOWEEE

Denki 

my cute little idiot...

you had to remind him a lot to not touch your hair (it fucks up your style!)

had to explain what “shrinkage” was

asked once “WOAH IS THAT ALL YOUR HAIR???” making you get to cussin’

very infatuated with everything about your hair though. poor thing didn’t know no better until now

plays in your hair anyway when you’re cuddling

wants to do your hair for you but every time you let him it turns out a mess. 

loves the way your hair smells when you put your products in it

lowkey wishes he had curly hair too

obsessed with you..

“‘Nari? How do I look?” You ask as you turn away from you vanity to look at your goofy boyfriend who’s playing video games and sitting on the bed in front of you. He paused his game to look at you and immediately turned bright red. 

“Wow..” He said, completely amazed. You had your hair in flexi-rods; after you took them down your natural hair cascaded down to your shoulders in heaps and mounds of thick luxuriousness. He loved that your hair framed your face so well and the lovely smell coming from you intoxicated him. 

“You’re so pretty, Y/N.” Denki smiles.

You giggle and shake your hair in the mirror, loving how your hair turned out. You put on some lip gloss and stood up to walk over to your full body mirror to pose in front of it. Damn, you looked good! You were feeling yourself for sure and Denki just couldn’t help but stare. He watched you pose in the mirror, playfully wiggling your ass and flipping your hair around.  His eyes met your curvaceous body; the jeans you wore hugging your form graciously. The top you wore accentuated your cocoa skin so damn good that it appeared to Denki that you were glowing from within. What a beautiful fucking woman.

He stands up and walks behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he stared at your gorgeous visage in the mirror. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” He asked, enamored by your beauty. He plants a kiss on your shoulder as you giggle and embrace him. 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Todoroki

was kinda ignorant to black culture and hair styles but after your careful explaination he’s fully informed and loves every bit of you

buys you all them expensive natural hair products (trust me.. they aint cheap)

Watches you do your hair

loves when you wear box braids, pulls on them during sex sometimes if you’re too fucked out to care (oop)

smells your hair when you’re sleeping (not in a creepy way I promise)

Doesn’t tolerate racism and will beat the shit out of anyone who tried it with you. Period.

loves your complexion, thinks you look scrumptious in yellow (yellow looks GREAT on black people ok???)

Todoroki’s favorite time of year was the winter. He loved the sweaters, the hot chocolate and more importantly you can finally wear your natural hair out. Since hotter months make your hair sweat out when you straighten it, you usually keep it in braids or locs. But come winter time, you try and wear your natural hair when you can since winter months can be drying to your curls sometimes. You had spend the day (yes it’s a fucking day long process.. for me anyway) taking down your braids while sitting on the couch watching daytime T.V while Shoto was out working. After everything was out, you showered and washed your hair, sighing as the warm water and shampoo soothed and cleansed your scalp carefully. You step out of the shower and comb out your hair while it’s still wet. You do your normal routine and fluff out your curls with an afro pick and smile at your new growth. Unbeknownst to you, Todoroki had been watching the process from start to finish as he was sitting on the bed next to your vanity. You thought he was asleep since he liked sleeping in on Sundays so you were surprised when he got up and kissed you on the cheek, admiring your natural beauty.

“You truly are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen, Y/N. I’m so lucky.” He gushed. You giggled and kissed him on his lips, thanking him for the compliment.

“So, what you do want to do today, beautiful?”

Deku

When he met you he wanted to know everything about you

Secretly took notes 👀 has a notebook with your name on it with everything that has to do with you including your hair

Studies you and does your hair exactly like how you do it

Tries to impress you by coming up with new styles to try even though some of them are a bit crazy lookin

Loves you till the death of him

Very very sweet about helping you with your hair when you’re too tired to take care of it sometimes 🥺

You had a long, stressful and exhausting day. You spent all day at the hospital taking care of patien after patient nonstop with damn near no breaks in between. You had resorted to pulling your beautiful curls back and away from your face from all the sweating and running around the hospital, leaving stray curls hanging out. You were always a prim and proper girl almost never seen with your hair unkempt so when you returned home with your hair in a messy low bun, Midoriya knew what was up. He watched as you greeted him weakly and plopped on the couch next to him, laying on his lap and almost falling asleep.

“Rough day?” He ask. You almost burst into tears when you hear your boyfriend ask you about your day. It was rough and frustrating. You were just glad you were finally home so you can relax and try and forget about the taxing day. You sigh as Midoriya rubbed small circles into you back and undid the messy bun you had lazily tied hours before returning home.

“You just relax, princess. I’ll take care of you, ok?” He says lifting you up from his lap and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you on the sink and put your hair in two braids for you so you could take a shower. He kissed your forehead and hummed sweet I love yous into your ear as you smile and kiss his nose. You loved that he was always so gentle with you, never hesitating to help you when you need it.

“I’ll make us something to eat. Pick out a movie for us to watch, okay? I don’t care if it’s something we’ve seen 100 times. Tonight is all about you.”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[buckyownsmylife]

Catch me - Tom Hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s neighbor and he comes to your place after he’s locked out of his house on a rainy night. Requested by anon. + Dry Humping also requested by different anon ask

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, cursing

A/N: okay, so here it is! My Tom Hardy requested smut! I’d also like to announce that I’ll be attempting to partake in this years’ Kinktober, and this is my first fic, fulfilling the prompts dry humping + face sitting. I’ll post the list of prompts I created for myself, along with the characters they are paired up with, a bit later. I also say “attempting” because I actually had a pretty bad accident last night and I’m still unable to do regular things like sitting or walking, so it’s been a struggle to get this done. If in anyday I am unable to write, I won’t force myself to do it. But that’s all, please enjoy this fic and let me know what you think of it! My requests are now empty, so feel free to send me any ideas you might have - I can either integrate them in one of my fics for the kinktober challenge or work on them in November.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I had watched with only partly concealed interest as the new neighbor slowly grew more comfortable at her place right next door to me. At first, it truly was just a slight curiosity founded in my observation of just how beautiful she was. But then, one day, right after she moved in, she caught me staring, and opened up the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. Just like that, I was stuck with a teenage-boy crush that left me blushing and stuttering every single time she so much as looked my way. 

If there was one thing people knew about me, was that I was not the blushing, stuttering type.

But things only got worse as time went on. She turned out to be just the perfect neighbor, usually coming around to offer me cookies or other baked goods precisely when I needed it the most.

“How do you always know when I’m feeling down or hungry, sweetheart?” I even ended up asking as I accepted yet another tray of brownies from her tiny hands. Her sweet little giggle went straight to my pants, instantly hardening my severely ignored member.

“It’s not that hard to figure out, Tom. Anytime you get back home this late, I can pretty much assume you barely had anything to eat all day, and it’s very clear you won’t have the energy to whip up anything right now.” My eyebrows raised up at her comment, but before I could satiate my curiosity, she quickly added, “And before you ask, no, I don’t spend my life looking out of the eyehole, you just have pretty loud steps when you’re tired, I can easily hear from my living room when you walk the hallway during the evening.”

Chuckling, I nodded, granting her that. I knew that she meant no harm, but I couldn’t help but to feel embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll try to be more mindful next time.” Her eyes widened at my apology, and she immediately waved my words away, clearly mortified by the fact that I had interpreted it as a complaint.

“Gosh, Tom, no, that’s not what I… Please, don’t worry about it. I’m just a terrible insomniac, and I have good ears. It’s not like you’re waking me up every time you come home or anything. That would be a bummer, but also highly improbable, since I’m a very heavy sleeper…” I had come to understand that she was very capable of maintaining a conversation completely by herself, but everytime she took notice of it, she scrambled to get out of my sight. I figured someone in her life must have told her she talked too much, but personally, I’d do anything to witness her little monologues at least a bit more. She just seemed so interesting, and selfless despite the constant stream of consciousness that poured out of her lips whenever she was nervous.

I liked knowing I made her nervous. It made me feel less terrible about wanting to know more about her. Did that make me a creep? Hell, probably. But I couldn’t pretend like I gave a damn. I felt this inexplicable attraction to her, her personality and body, and that was it. I wanted to uncover what it was about her that had me so engrossed.

And one night, the opportunity presented itself to me. I had gone out of my car in a hurry because of the rain that had decided to pour all over the city and didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon, so I only noticed that I had locked my keys on the trunk of the car when I was already in front of my own apartment’s door, dripping all over the hallway. 

Fuck, that was just so typical of me. Why did I even bother to get my backpack out of the car, when I was already arriving home close to midnight and would be back at work early in the morning? It wasn’t like I would have the time to use my computer or anything. 

Sighing, I ran a wet hand over my face in an effort to figure out my next move. Obviously I would need to get someone to open my car for me, but in the middle of the night, it’d be hard to know who would come. It would definitely be easier to find someone in the morning, and I could very well get an Uber to some cheap motel and spend the night there. 

I was about to do just that when suddenly the door behind me opened, and a delicious smell of lasagna filled my nostrils, making me aware of just how hungry I was. “Tom?” Her sweet, sweet voice instantly calmed my tense muscles, making me open a smile at the sight of her despite the series of events I had just lived through. “Is something wrong?” 

A low chuckle escaped my lips at the awareness of just how pathetic my situation was, but there was no real humour in my tone. I looked down at my wet shoes before gathering the courage to look her in the eye again, giving her a small smile. “I locked myself out,” was all I said, and before I could even further explain my situation, her eyes had widened and she was reaching out to me, holding me by my wrist and pulling me inside of her place. 

“You poor thing. And right on the worst night for it to happen? Here, sit down while I go look for something you can change into. Wouldn’t want you catching a cold, would we?” I briefly considered offering some kind of protest, explaining how I intended to go spend the night in a motel, but the truth was, I didn’t want to. It was late, I was tired and I was really fucking cold and just by being in the close proximity of this beautiful creature, I already felt a little bit better, so I’d just shut up and wait to see how this would play out for me. 

She came back with some sweatpants and a large cotton shirt, a bashful look on her face. “I bought these sweatpants from the male’s department because they’re usually comfier than the ones I find in the female department, they should fit you well.” I accepted the small bundle of fabric she offered, one eyebrow raised as I stared down at her in curiosity.

“What about the shirt?” I asked, and she blushed five different shades of pinks and reds, making her just that much cuter. It made me want to eat her whole, and the fact that she stood a few good feet under me didn’t help that at all. I knew I could break her so easily.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I felt like I could slap myself over how silly I was behaving over something so ordinary. Why would Tom care about me having an ex? It was only natural, it’s not like I was a blushing virgin nun who never did anything slightly out of the ordinary. Sex was ordinary. I’ve done it before. I’m sure Tom wouldn’t assume I hadn’t.

Oh, what am I saying? There’s no way he has even considered this subject when it comes to me. Why on Earth would he be thinking about my sexual past? What is going on with me? I feel like I’m going insane. 

I could feel just how warm my face had gotten, but I still had some amount of pride in me to salvage the situation, so I managed to roll my eyes as I pushed Tom further inside my house, in the direction of my bathroom.

“You’re a smart man, you can figure out where the shirt came from.” His chuckle shouldn’t be so sexy, but what about this man wasn’t?

“That’s not the answer I hoped for.” And with that mysterious sentence, he locked himself in my bathroom and left me alone with my thoughts. Granted, most of them revolved around him, so I couldn’t really say I was that alone, but the lack of someone to talk to only meant that my mind was swirling and a lot of different things I shouldn’t be thinking about managed to dominate my head. 

Just what did he mean by what he said? Could it be that he… No, of course not. There was no reason for him to be jealous of me. It’s not like he could possibly want me. Right?

I spent the entire time he was taking a shower stuck in the same pattern of thoughts, so much so that I didn’t even notice he had come back to the kitchen and was watching me from the doorway until he cleared his throat, making me jump out of my skin while carrying a plate full of very hot lasagna.

“Oh,” was all I said as I felt some of the sauce spill on my hand and my chest, some even managing to get on my face. But Tom’s rough ‘Shit’ brought a giggle to my lips, despite the discomfort of the slight burning sensation on my skin. 

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I thought you’d noticed me standing here.” While he assured me of his lack of intention to hurt me - as if I didn’t already know- he had grabbed the plate I was still holding onto and placed it on the counter, quickly procuring an already dirty rag and eagerly starting to clean me up, first my hand, and then…

Before he pressed the fabric to my chest, he looked up at me, his beautiful eyes catching mine and making me suck in a breath. “T-that’s alright,” I managed to get out, trying to look away from his hypnotizing gaze. “It doesn’t really hurt that bad. I think with a bit of cold water it might calm down.”

He nodded, agreeing with my words, but his gaze still searched mine for something I didn’t understand. “I sure hope so,” was all he said initially, his eyes finally dropping from mine to focus on the task at hand. “But I must say, I’m very disappointed.”

The comment puzzled me, rendering me useless for the time being. I could only tilt my head as I looked down at him, still crouching in front of me to clean my chest before he finally stood up on his full height and grabbed my face, gently engulfing it in one of those huge palms of his.

“I was really hoping that you were single, but I guess that would be expecting too much from the universe, considering how beautiful you are.” My eyes grew twice their normal size as I immediately tried to push him away and hide my face from his view, suddenly incredibly shy. But of course, he didn’t let me, instead pressing me against the counter and his very hard body, while he very carefully wiped away the few drops of sauce on my cheek.

For a few seconds, I let him work in silence, still trying to gather my nerves so I could say something. I should say something, shouldn’t I? I mean, here lies an opportunity that I never thought I’d experience, and here I was, being all silly about it. Finally, when he had at last finished slowly rubbing the rag against my skin, and seemed to be about to separate himself from me, I sprung into action, pulling him to me again by his forearms. 

“I-I am,” that’s all I managed to say, immediately cringing at my own lack of social skills. “Single, I mean.” Very smooth. Well done, Y/N. But despite my stupidity, it seemed that I was able to achieve my intention, since my sentence made Tom finally get rid of the rag and hold my face between both of his hands now, his thumbs softly running over my cheekbones.

“Oh, is that so?” He breathed out against my skin, our lips inches away from one another, and I shivered against my best wishes. That reaction caused a predatory smirk to appear on his face, and I knew then and there that I was in way over my head. “Good to know,” he whispered, and then his lips were on mine, forcing me to accept his tongue, eating me whole. 

He tasted like peppermint and coffee and I was already addicted to his taste, hoping to God I tasted as great to him as he did to me. At least, he didn’t complain. In fact, by the way he sucked on my tongue, forcing his deep inside my mouth, I’d go as far as to say that he did like what he tasted. 

Before long, he had pulled me up on the counter, his hands holding me by my waist as his lips ventured from my mouth to my jaw, until they found a spot on my neck that made me gasp and hold his shirt tightly, and then he was sucking, rolling his tongue on the spot where I could already feel a bruise forming, before his teeth carved their own impressions on my skin, imprinting himself on me.

My head swirled with the force of the emotions bursting through me. My legs wrapped themselves around his strong body, and I was happy that my hands knew what to do when my mind hadn’t still managed to catch up to this turn of events. When his tongue came out to lick right over my collarbones, the response gasp he elicited from me came out sounding much more like a sob than anything else.

“You’re so sensitive, princess,” He teased me, still otherwise occupied with marking my skin as his. “I’ve barely even started and here you are…” His hands ran through the expanse of my body, like he was showing his proof to an audience. “... a mess already.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was somehow dripping already. I could feel it, dripping from inside of me, slowly ruining the panties I was wearing. They were so not appropriate for the activities I was currently partaking in, but how the hell would I have known this was going to happen?

All I knew was that Tom had lit the fire inside of me, and now the flames were threatening to swallow us both.

Tom’s P.O.V.

She was just too cute, so out of breath and trembling with desire with the little I’d done to tease her. It just made me want to ruin her even more. My little neighbor, so perfect and sweet, so needy for me.

She didn’t even realize she had started to grind herself against me, in search of some sort of release. Well, I wasn’t about to cut her off. Unstead, I took advantage of my grip on her, pulling her body until I was the one keeping her up, trapped between my body and the counter.

“Rub your tiny wet cut against my jeans, love,” I ordered in a demanding whisper right on her ear, making her shiver. She obeyed without any sort of hesitation, looking up at me underneath her eyelashes with her eyes glazed over with lust. “That’s it…” Fuck if the pressure wasn’t exactly what I needed to help ease up some of the tension from the need I was feeling in my veins. “Rub yourself against my hard cock, don’t be shy.”

My words seemed to be gasoline for her, giving her the push she needed to grind herself even harder against my bulge. I decided to help her, pushing her more firmly against the counter and following the movements, rejoicing in the pleasure gasp that escaped her lips as the added pressure provided more friction to her clit.

“Fuck…” She whispered, and I think that in the entirety of the four months of conversations I’d entertained with her, that was the first time I’d heard her cuss. The four letter word I was so familiarized with had a new, unexpected effect on me, making the situation inside my pants so difficult I had to stop my movements and slow hers down by her hips, so I wouldn’t just jizz on my pants like a fucking teenager. 

But Y/N didn’t stop, despite accepting my silent request to decrease the fervor of our activities. When I finally managed to get control over myself again, I realized why. She had gripped the counter behind her and was using it to better control her movements, and it was clear by the way her head hung back and her mouth fell open that she was about to cum just like that.

“Shit,” I cussed just as the realization hit, and it felt like all of the control I’d managed to build in the last few seconds I closed my eyes had suddenly escaped through the window. My cock was painfully hard again, and all I could think of was that I needed to get out of these fucking jeans.

Who could blame me, though? When she looked like that, creaming her panties with her clothes still on? Shit, I couldn’t wait to get her naked and underneath me. I needed to feel her from the inside, explore her wetness with my hard cock.

But first, I was desperate to get a taste of her. So as soon as her breathing came back to a somewhat regular pattern, I was careful to put her on the ground again, making sure she was able to stand on her own legs, before dropping to my knees in front of her.

“What are you… Oh.” I couldn’t help but to chuckle at the innocence of her mind that stopped her from immediately understanding what I intended to do, but then I was pushing her skirt up and away from my view and her panties were in front of me and they were drenched, absolutely ruined by the sticky liquid that made my mouth water. 

“Fuck, princess…” I moaned as I carefully peeled the cotton fabric down her legs, keeping it pooled around her ankles as I pushed her legs open as far as they could go. She was dripping, a single line of her wetness connecting both of her thighs, making me groan at the sight. “You might just kill me…” I commented before reaching up to pull her to me, effectively burying my face on her.

“T-Tom!” The sound of my name escaping her lips with that reverent tone left me even hungrier for her, as did her exquisite taste. It painted my tongue with its sweetness, embedding itself in my cells, making sure I’d never be able to forget it. I already knew I’d be hungry for her again the second I pulled away from her cunt.

Nonetheless, I forced myself to stop for a moment to gather my senses, as her taste made it harder and harder to control my need to relieve my aching member. I needed to be inside of her, and quickly. 

Abruptly rising up to my full height, I picked her up by the back of her thighs so she’d wrap her legs around me and took us to where I’d assumed her bedroom would be, considering I was familiarized with the general layout of the apartments. The second I laid her on the bed, my hands were struggling with my own belt, as I watched her pull her dress over her head, now completely bare before me.

“You’re so fucking hot.” When my pants dropped to the floor and my cock slapped my lower stomach, I pounced on her immediately, crawling on the space between her legs and pulled her by the back of her neck to connect our lips once more. “Do you want to be railed tonight, pretty neighbor?”

She fucking whimpered in response, repetitions of “yes” and “please” escaping her lips as she tried to pull me closer to her by the legs she embraced me with. Not having it in me to stop this moment any longer, I gripped my member with one of my hands while I held her hips down with the other, briefly rubbing the blunt head of my cock over her sensitive clit before pushing myself completely inside of her.

“Oh, fuck,” I groaned, blindsided by the tightness, wetness and warmness that now surrounded me. “I knew your cunt would be fucking delicious.” I watched her as I pulled out until just my tip was inside of her, only to push it back in as forcefully as I could.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her hands flew up to hold my shoulders, almost as if she wanted to push me away or tell me to take it easy, but as her legs continued to pull me even deeper inside, I knew what she really needed was to be properly fucked.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Tom was not exaggerating; he really did pound me against my mattress, immediately setting up the most brutal of paces. It hurt, especially with how much he was stretching me, but it felt too fucking good to complain about it.

The only thing I could do was to relax and accept this invasion, this possession of my body by my next-door neighbor. I knew I must have been quite a vision, my arms thrown up in search of something to hold on to, spit escaping the corner of my lips by the intensity of the thrusts, my breasts shaking as he pulled me back to meet his thrusts by my hips. I hoped I’d have some bruises on the shape of his fingertips to remember this night.

Not like I would ever be able to forget, anyway. Only a lunatic would expel the visions of Tom looking like this while fucking them, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the sweat gathering over his eyebrows. I wanted to kiss it away. I wanted to taste its saltiness. 

Just as my head began to twirl in time with the growth of arousal in my lower belly, Tom’s eyes travelled upwards from the point where his cock was buried inside of me to find my breasts, one of his hands immediately following suit. When his pull on my nipple was accompanied by the feeling of his warm mouth engulfing the other one, I screamed as I came all around him, my head thrown back and eyes closed as I relished in the feeling of being so perfectly filled, so perfectly touched.

“Fuckin’ tight.” Tom fucked me through my orgasm, but at the sight of my eyes blinking back open, he pulled out, easily manhandling me into turning around and rising on all fours. “This fucking ass… Do you have any idea how long I dreamt about fucking you like this?”

I didn’t know how, but his words and the way his huge hands sprawled over the cheeks of my butt reignited the flames that had just been fed, and I found myself pushing back against him, offering myself up to him. Anything to get his cock inside of me again.

“Please…” I all but begged, and I heard his breath hitching behind me. “Just… please keep fucking me.” Perhaps that was all that he needed, because in a second his cock was tearing me open again, so fucking deep that I could feel it in my stomach. 

“Fuck… If I had known how it would look to have my little perfect neighbor begging for my cock, I would have fucked you ages ago.” Every single thing that came out of that man’s mouth was like sin. He wrapped my hair around his fist, suddenly using it to pull me back to him as he raised one of his legs to the mattress, the new angle making each of his thrusts hit that spot inside of me that made everything just a little more satisfying. 

I could feel tears running down my cheeks, falling on my spread out hands as I struggled to keep breathing through his assault on my senses. “Are you gonna cum again, love?” I could hear him asking, and I wanted to answer, I really did, but every time I opened my mouth, only sobs came out. “Are you? Here, let me help you out.”

The feeling of his rough fingers softly caressing my clit was such a stark contrast to the way he was still brutally pounding into me that instead of trying to push him away from my much too sensitive lower region, I opened my eyes in surprise as another orgasm took over me, somehow even stronger than the previous ones.

“Yeah, that’s it… Fuck. Come for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel your cunt milking my fucking cock.” His words did nothing to help ease my arousal, and just when my arms started to give out, I felt him spilling inside of me. “FUCK!” He shouted, following my body’s motions until he was covering me with his own torso, still very much inside of me.

His thrusts finally coming to a stop after he had slowly fucked his cum inside of me, I felt his thumbs caressing my hips as I remained face planted on my mattress. “Well, this isn’t how I expected this night to go, but I can’t say I’m not satisfied.”

A snort was all I could give him as he finally pulled out and allowed his body to fall by my side, giving me a quick kiss on the shoulder that was closer to him. “You ok?” He asked, and I snorted again.

“More than okay. You still haven’t eaten though.” It was the truth. After all of this… incredible distraction from my cooking plans, he still hadn’t gotten around to eat dinner. I heard him take a deep breath next to me as he pondered his answer. 

“Really? ‘Cause I remember eating some very delicious pussy a few minutes ago.” It took me a few minutes to process what he had said, but when I did, I turned around to playfully hit his chest while feeling my face warm up from the reality of what we had just done.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re hot.” And when he put it in such simple terms, as he pulled me in his arms so that I could cuddle his chest, how could I feel embarrassed?

[katsukikitten]

Part 10 of Irritated. Y'all thank Jo for this being updated lol.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This is an 18+ Pro Hero AU, mentions of violence and death. Enjoy

The pungent smell of wet Earth and nose burning chemicals did not pair well with the harsh scent of rotting fruit. Sickeningly sweet as it rouses you, mind hazed as your eyelids refuse to open or even flutter. Weighted by lead and an endless sleep that tries to pull you under again. For once you submit.

More time passes, although you aren’t even sure you understand the concept any longer as that same smell stirs you again, a bang from an adjacent room pushes your eyes to flutter. Flashes of light against the start darkness before your eyes adjust to the low light of the room that seeps in from a few small rectangular windows. The panes are caked with dust while bricks are pressed into the seedy Earth, giving the room a natural coolness, there is only one set of stairs that lead up towards a door outlined in light. The sound of running water makes your throat constrict and your mouth dry, as if you swallowed cotton whole. Making you wonder just how long you had been pulled undertow. It takes your throbbing head a moment to catch up with your senses as a chill settles over your bare skin in goose flesh.

And then it all comes flooding back, the awful taste of his salty skin in your mouth, the fear gripping at your muscles as you finally realize that you are not in the safety of your apartment but somewhere forgein. Thrashing to get to your feet only to hit hard onto the icy concrete, wrists and ankles bound by white cuffs, a small whine escapes your raw throat. Your heart hammers in your chest before you feel a sharp prick in both of your wrists. A warm substance floods your system as your eyelids become heavy, mind trudging through abduction procedures before settling on blissful numb. A blurry figure comes from the only other door in the room that isn’t atop the staircase. You don’t need to fully focus on his face to know exactly what color his eyes are as they burn into your retinas before sleep hushes your frayed nerves. You dream of all consuming green that slowly fades to black.

Bakugou finds himself standing in the kitchen of his apartment, your spare key stares up at him from your paperwork. A sweating glass with melting ice and the reminisce of an amber liquid is his only company. He leers down at the address, wondering why the hell you were on such a seedy side of town, then he thinks of you shaking on the couch back at the hotel during the convention. His stomach churns, your final words and blow cause him to suck his teeth.

“Not my fucking problem.” He huffs to himself, refilling the glass before killing the light in the kitchen to settle on the couch. His grip is too tight on the crystal glass in his explosive palm, the glass threatens to shatter while an infomercial plays in the background. His mind is anywhere but the TV while indestructible pans are advertised across the large screen. Aggressively swirling the amber liquid as his thoughts become more and more loud. He swallows the whisky whole and with it the thought of you. Letting it all burn as it runs down his throat and heats his chest, a warm feeling flooding his veins as he sinks lower into the couch. Flipping channels as he forgets you.

Your key taped to your personal records, that Bakugou stole, do not sit on his fine counter much longer, soon it is swiped and shoved into a pocket. He slams the crystal glass on the counter as he reaches for his own apartment keys and his cellphone. Bakgou slams his apartment door, locking the deadbolt before he rushes down the stairs to catch the last train to you hellish part of the city.

The hour train ride sobers Bakugou and only sets him into further agitation. Glaring at anyone who thinks to look at him more than once, even going as far as baring his teeth. Before glaring at his own reflection, who sneers right back. His black tee is tight and a bit damp despite the cool air, the brim of his backwards cap pulls the hair away from his forehead as his faded sides breathe in the chill of the train. The hat, an excuse to hold in his hair, his hero gloves heating his hands as his fingers twitch, he hopes your apartment is hardwood throughout since he didn't have plastic bags to put his feet in while he looked for something. Anything. He was doing the best with what he had.

But the more he looks at himself the more he realizes he never really was doing his best. At least not when it came to you.

The address to your apartment complex is a few blocks away from the train station, his jaw clenched as he reaches the low lit building. Screaming comes from somewhere far off, his ears perk out of habit, but he was supposed to be off duty right now. Plus that wasn’t his current focus, not to mention should he help it would be suspicious as fuck as to why he was so far way from home tonight. He bounds up the stairs in the dank stairwell two at a time, huffing through his nose as he reaches the top floor. The carpet is worn threadbare and reeks of vomit and water damage. Silence envelopes the top floor compared to the yelling and crashing items on his way up. Slowly it dawns on him that you’re most likely renting out the entire fucking floor. He sucks his teeth, leaning in close to the door of the first apartment on the floor. Nothing comes from the other side of the thin cheap door, musty air flows from between the cracks as if the room had been closed for quite some time. It confirms what he’s been thinking. He finds your apartment door with ease, several bolts and locks lined up perfectly straight. He looks down at the one key and thinks about what happened in the short few years you started at the agency that you would need five, no six additional deadbolts on your door. He half wishes you hadn't made it so obvious as to which door was yours, thoughts creep into the forefront of his mind as he imagines someone else standing in his spot now. He thinks he will need a locksmith, but that would call attention to himself, he could attempt to pick them but he never really had time to practice the shady skill. Just as he is about to turn to brute force as the answer he notices that your door doesn't seem fully shut. He thinks of all the times that you bitched while on patrol about your damn door and how you had to literally slam it shut for it to actually lock. Gritting his teeth he gently pushes the door open with his gloved hand letting it swing open with an eerie creak.

Already things are out of place. Your suitcase stands alone, untouched and obviously unpacked from the clothes peeking out from beneath the zipper, by the front door. Your lanyard for your keys is on the floor instead of the table that is in the foyer and the converse you were wearing the day that you quit are missing. Faintly something gleems in the grainy light from the hallway from beneath the table in the foyer. Bakugou reaches for it tentatively, teeth gritting as he realizes what the glass rectangle is.

Your phone.

Specifically, your dead phone.

His hand hover over the unresponsive screen before deciding to leave it, this would be evidence they would need later but for now he knew he had to do something. Kamisama takes pity on the poor bastard and throws him a bone in the shape of a scrunchie. Your black scrunchie that seems to have been ripped from your arm. As he reaches for it he notices the faint residue smeared on the hardwood. His mind dredges up weeks ago of the guy trying to hide his quirk. Of the carpet by the hotel door in the hall just a touch darker.

He should have fucking killed him, he should not have listened to you. He snatches the scrunchie, heading towards your kitchen to look for a bag, tupperware, anything to trap the smell of you and possibly your assailant. He finds a plastic sandwich bag, shoving the broken hair tie into the baggie before sealing it shut. He heads for your door thinking better of slamming it shut in case he needs to return without the calvary. Pulling his phone from his pocket he dials an old number from memory, the other line picks up.

"Oi, it's time I cashed in on that favor you owe me."

After the short conversation and the long hour and a half in the cold a four door sudan pulls up to the train station by your house. Bakugou eagerly yanks open passenger side door, slamming it shut as he cranks of the heat in the car, giving the driver no room for questions let alone a greeting.

"Oi, I need you to find the owner of this." He flashes the scrunchie as the driver gives him a look, "Inu, you're hound's son aren't you? It's not impossible."

"It might as well be dude. What is this?" Inu snatches the bag from hot fingers, "Do you even know when the last time the owner wore this. And what exactly are we doing? Is this even fucking official?"

Bakugou narrows his eyes, mouth set in a harsh snarl as he leans in close to the driver's seat while Inu leans back.

"I dunno was your shit I helped you with official? Was it ethical for us to take out a mob boss for your now ex wife?"

Inu looks away into the rear view mirror, eyes boring holes into the glass and the blankets in the back seat. Bakugou doesn't notice, he takes it as admission before leaning away into the passenger seat.

"Now get to sniffing." Inu grits his teeth at the hot head's comments before sighing out. Opening the bag just a little to take a whiff. The smell was faint, indicating a large gap from the time it was last worn to now. Not to mention there was an odd smell, so unbelievably faint in the fabric that had Inu not already known what you smelt like he would have missed it. Just barely he could make out past the notes of your shampoo a salty harsh smell, almost like a preservative. Had it been any stronger it would have burned his nostrils. Sweat and...was that formaldehyde?

His stomach churns, slowly closing the baggie before cracking his window, catching the wind just right. He follows his nose, head halfway out the window as the car carries the men late into the night, all the way to the fringes of a suburb that was partly in the country. Inu parks the car on the wide street of the little neighborhood built to mimic an American suburb in the nineties. Homes of various sizes spread out and yet not too far from one another.

"This is it." Inu announces, throwing the car in park as it sits nestled between a beat to hell pick up truck and a dented sudan.

"You're sure?" Bakugou asks as he takes in the old home, it's upkeep is minimal at best, landscaping border line over grown as he can barely make out the small rectangular windows at the base of the house beneath the old dim street lamp.

"This is where both smells get stronger."

"Both?" A tic wounds tighter in Bakugou's jaw while a tremor runs through his arms. Inu nods as Bakugou reaches for the knob.

"Woah, woah!" Inu's large hand clamps down onto a broad shoulder, "Hold up man, if she really is involved then this is nothing like the sting we did bro. We need to call someone."

"Like fucking who?"

"I dunno Director Yami?"

"Yea so he can dismiss this again? Fuck that and fuck you. I'm going." He shoves Inu away reaching for the door again before the blankets in the back seat come to life. A mop of emerald curls with concern plastered across the giant's face appears to Bakugou's horror.

"Kaachan...you can't. We need to do this right, for her." And with that Bakugou snaps, lunging for his old friend, enemy. Climbing past the center console with his hands outstretched before they wrap around a thick column squeezing with all of his might. Deku doesn't do much to stop him, somehow knowing deep down that it isn't really him that the red eyed man wants to kill. He wraps broad hands around thick forearms giving them a gentle squeeze, he could snap them with One for All if he wanted. Instead Inu barks out a breathy "What the fuck?" as he wraps his arms around Bakugou's torso pulling him back into the passenger's seat. In the tussle either Bakugou or Inu hit the horn, causing Inu to panic as a light comes to life in the once darkened house. He forcefully shoves Bakugou into the front seat as he peels into the street, thankfully without burning rubber.

"Are you trying to blow our fucking cover?!" Inu shouts, "Like fuck! And what's killing Izuku-kun going to do?"

Bakugou turns to glare at the behemoth of a man in the back seat, he rubs his throat as red eyes watch bruises form.

"I'm not sorry Deku, fuck you." But Izuku can read between the lines, Bakugou saying he is sorry but still fuck you for trying to stop me while our friend is most likely on borrowed time.

"'S kay. We can help her."

A honk, rouses you before footsteps can be heard overhead rushing through the house before blinding light floods down into the basement.

"Finally you're awake." He flicks on all the lights, scrambling to put your feet under you so you can at least sit. Eyes flickering over the room as you try to give your throbbing, unresponsive mind to collect something, anything you can store away for later to aid your escape. Meanwhile the green eyed fucker monologues.

"It took some time for me to adjust your dose, I need you to be just under enough that you won't fight back, your heart rate spikes easily you know…." His words are lost to you as you glance over your shoulder only to wish you never did as your stomach churns in horror. Lined up against the wall behind you are women, women you had posed with.

But what haunts you is how it starts with your missing friend. Her eyes hollowed out, pitch black holes stare back at you as her skin looks paper thin, like a botched mummification or that whoever was trying to preserve her got lucky. She is still in her last scene clothes that are bloodied and torn. Your eyes struggling to follow the line as they progressively become more and more preserved, until your eyes finally land on your last instagram picture, you and that young girl. With the peace signs beneath your eyes.

She looks to still be alive, until you realize she is unblinking with glass eyes and a permanent smile with the help of a stich or two.

He notices your rigidness and frowns.

"Are you not happy? It's hard to save the eyes." He forces your face to meet him with his fingers on your skin, "I made them for you. They're your friends right? I wouldn't want my doll to be lonely."

Your breath comes in ragged huffs as rage consumes you, you were going to kill him. With whatever little power you had left, you were going to end him and savor it.

All these lives, twenty, that you could see, lost, because of you and you negligence. Your eyes glow before a prick comes at your wrist, the power dying in your fingers.

"No." You rasp out as your vision begins to fade.

"Ah come on, I just want you to be a wake for just a bit doll. Just a while longer before I make you mine."

Your world plunges into the depths of darkness.

Your dream of the girls behind you, of their scream as their preserved bodies animate, their glass eyes fixated on you as they crawl across the concrete. Their mouths smelling of formatihide and rot as they lean close to you, voices beneath water or worn by gravel.

"You did this. You killed us."

[bugsbucky]

Special Birthday Girl

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: DDs: it’s your birthday and unfortunately, you and Sebastian/Bucky had a fight a few days ago and still aren’t talking. There’s a delivery of a large bouquet of flowers from your partner but the note attached makes you anxious he’s hinting for a breakup. How do you make up when you learn the note was just worded incorrectly?

Warnings: Angst, lots of tension, fluff, happy ending!

Word Count: 1,466 (Yikes!)

Authors Notes: This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​​ Extended Drunk Drabbles! A really really big thank you to my tumblrmama @hawksmagnolia​​​ for your help with this prompt! Couldn’t have finished it without you!! 

Happy birthday sweetheart!!! Hope you have a great day!

Many kisses Y/N! Have a fantastic day!

Happy Birthday!!!

Happy birthday, you beautiful human!

The birthday messages kept pouring in from your friends and family. Everyone close to you had wished you a happy birthday, everyone except Bucky.

The atmosphere in your tiny single bedroom apartment was uncomfortably thick. Even his Avenger friends picked up on the tension as soon as they had walked into the space.

The two of you had had a pretty heated fight a week ago about his continued grumpiness. Bucky was tired, you understood that since he’s been working so much, but his short patience with you was making you crazy. It seemed he bit your head off every time you opened your mouth. You were officially done with his surly mood so you chose to put him in his place, warning him that if he didn’t stop talking to you like that then he shouldn’t bother talking to you at all.

Since that day, he has chosen the latter and hasn’t spoken to you since. Whenever you and Bucky have fought in the past, one of you would usually break the silence after an hour. You kept expecting him to try and fix things, like apologise for his hostile remarks but nothing. You feared this was the end of your relationship, that this was his way of breaking up without saying it.

It was like two strangers under the same roof. You still shared the same bed, but at different times. You cooked and ate your own meals separately and spent most of the day in a different room away from each other.

 But today was your birthday and while you were really happy to receive such beautiful messages from those who loved you, the memory of your angry outburst and his silence sat heavily on top of your shoulders. Just knowing that you and Bucky weren’t okay was making it difficult to enjoy your day.

A sudden knock echoes throughout the apartment startles you and your head jerks to the door in the hopes to hear Bucky striding to answer it. When you hear nothing after a couple of heartbeats another loud knock comes. You huff in frustration and stomp towards the door. You hadn’t heard Bucky leave the apartment and knew he was here somewhere. He had come in very early this morning and you assumed he’d crashed on the couch. You’d been hiding in the bedroom, hoping the door would muffle any tears. 

Would it really be such an inconvenience for him to answer the damn door?

You yank the door open with more force than you intended to use and your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. A delivery man in brown uniform stood in front of you holding a beautifully wrapped large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

“Good afternoon ma’am! Are you Miss Y/L/N?”

You nodded. “Um yes, that’s me.”

“Great. I’ve got a delivery for you from Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.” Hearing his full name caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“Oh.” You blew out a surprised breath. He’d bought you flowers for your birthday? Your excitement died a bit and you swallowed a knot in your throat realizing he could have ordered them well before your fight.

The man clears his throat and you blink at him. It’s then you realize that he’s holding the flowers out for you to take them. You take them gracefully as possible, quickly scribbling your name down on the piece of paper and nudging the door closed with your foot.

 Setting the flowers down on the side in the kitchen, you go on a hunt for a big enough vase to fit the bunch. As you’re about to turn away, you see a note wedged between the petals from your peripheral vision.

Plucking the note between your fingers, your eyes scanning over the words printed on the back of it.

My love, I’m wishing you the happiest of birthdays. May the light guide your loneliness in your future adventures.

Yours, Bucky

What the absolute fuck did that mean? Your eyebrows furrow as you re-read it over and over and it still does not make any sense in your mind. Was he seriously hinting of a breakup with you? On your birthday of all days?!

Tossing the card on the kitchen counter, you take a step back and rub your temples. Tears were pooling in your eyes with the fear of what it meant.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Bucky asked from behind you. The first three words he has spoken since your fight and his voice sounds almost foreign to you now. “Did you not like my flowers?” His voice was deep and raspy, as though he just woken up from his nap. You sensed some guilt there too.

“They are nice.” You breathed, keeping your eyes closed as your heart raced. This was truly the shittiest of birthdays you’ve ever had.

“Y/N.” You could feel his body heat in front of you, his footsteps were silent thanks to his experience as an assassin. His large hands wrapped around your wrists and pulled them away from your face. Tears slid down your cheeks and you averted your gaze everywhere but on him.

“Are you breaking up with me?” The words rolled off your tongue before you could swallow them down. Might as well give the shitty day a high five and get it over with.

For a moment, Bucky looks stunned. It’s quickly replaced with confusion as his brows knit together. “Of course not! We’re adults here, I know we can and will fix it. It was just a stupid little fig-”

“Then why word the note the way you did? What the fuck does it even mean? You make it sound like I’m going into my future alone without you. And today of all days, Bucky! It’s my fucking birthday and I can’t believe you’d do this!” 

The crease between his eyebrows deepens and now he’s more confused by what you meant. “What note are you talking about, doll?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes, the leftover anger from your fight and frustration of the week of silent treatment coming to the surface. You stepped around his large frame and almost punched the card into his chest.

He read over the note and you took mental notes of his expressions. Confusion that was replaced by anger. His nostrils flared as he ripped the card up and threw the pieces on the floor.

“I didn’t write that. That’s not even close to what I told the girl to write.” He scoffed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“What do you mean?”

“The girl at the flower shop has this weird crush on me. I told her what I wanted the writing to say and that was not it and clearly she fucked it up deliberately.”

You looked at each other and soon it became a staring contest. A small smile fighting its way to your lips and you shift under his intense gaze.

“Y/N.” He whispered, stepping closer. “I promise baby, I’m not breaking up with you. I wouldn’t even dream of it. I know we haven’t talked this past week and believe me, it killed me. I had to keep fighting the urge to curl into you at night and wrap you in my arms. I’m so sorry for my moods and I promise I’ll get my shit together. And believe me, that girl who sabotaged that note will not get away with it.”

This time a smile did find its way to your lips. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest. He planted a kiss on top of your head and held you close, as though he was afraid you’d turn to dust.

“I love you. So fucking much.” He sighed. His breath fanning against your hair as he spoke.

“I love you too.” You craned your neck upwards and smiled. He kissed the tip of your nose and darted his tongue out to lick his dry lips.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered. Your chin resting against this broad chest. A goofy grin appears on his face and you already know the next words that will leave his lips.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you. I have a lot of making up to do. But since I didn’t give you your special birthday gift this morning, how about I give it to you now?” 

“You better make sure it’s extra special.”

“Extra special for my special girl, coming right up.” He scooped you up into his arms and carried you straight into the bedroom.

Taglist: @jobean12-blog​ @marvelgirl7​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @hawksmagnolia​ @deanthedemon​ @eurynome827​ @emilylyoness​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @kitkatd7​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @littleredstarfish​​ @buckys-henley​​ @tuiccim​​ @mystoragehatesme​​ @starspangledseb​​ @bambamwolf87​​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

This is two parts because I got carried away. I wrote this on my phone and proof read as much as I could.

Warnings: cheating, male masturbation, m/f sex, minor spoilers for “Defending Jacob”.

——————————————————————————————

Plain Gold Ring

“Plain gold ring on his finger he wore

It was where everyone could see

He belonged to someone, but not me

On his hand was a plain gold ring”

-Nina Simone

When the Barbers moved to your building every old bitty in the place was buzzing with excitement. You had loosely followed Jacob Barber’s case as it played out on the evening news. The whole thing was bizarrely too neat and tidy for your liking. You tried to stay out of idle gossip as much as possible. But, when you heard Andy Barber was interviewing for a senior position at your firm, you had questions.

Andy was brought in to interview for a position that you were also interested in. You requested a meeting with your boss and you went in guns blazing. Your poor boss was not ready for all the excitement.

“Am I still being considered for junior partner?”

“Y/n, calm down.” When he saw you winding yourself up, he popped an antacid an a few ibuprofen.

“Calm down? Calm down he says. I’ve been with this firm since I clerked for you in Law school, Stan. I’m the best fit for this role and you know it.”

“I know you are, kid. I’ve been out voted.”

It’s common knowledge that the partners don’t want too many women gunning for their jobs. They already have one token female partner. They didn’t feel the need to add another. You were infuriated. You stomped back to your office and slammed the door.

All of the work you put in. All of the late nights. You don’t have time to even date. And all for what? You had to calm down now because you were starting to cry out of sheer frustration. You took a deep breath and started going through your to do list. With a relatively light schedule you decided to leave for the day. You mumbled something to your assistant about a doctors appointment and headed for the elevator.

You saw some of the senior partners headed your way shaking hands with Andy. You pressed the elevator button furiously trying to avoid them. Could you make it down seventeen flights of stairs in your stilettos? The elevator dinged and you jumped on just as Robert called your name.

As soon as you put your car in gear, your assistant called. You sent her to voicemail. She called again. Declined. Finally she texted call me back ASAP. Emergency. Fuck.

“Caitlan I said I had an appointment. What’s the emergency?”

“Sorry. Mr. Cramer insisted I call. He’s standing by my desk” she whispered. “They want you to have lunch with them today. Maybe it’s about the job.”

“Did you see guy shaking hands with them? That’s the new junior partner. They are asking me to lunch to reject me. Fuck! Where?” You rested your head against the steering wheel.

“Commander’s at 1:00.”

“Fine.” you groaned.

You went home to freshen up and send out your updated resume. You made sure to include “Willing to relocate” at the end to broaden your prospects. You had a friend in Chicago who worked for a very high profile firm. They were always looking for new blood. You shot her a text to let her know you were looking then emailed your resume. The prospect of starting over completely made you nauseous. You would have to go through the ranks and probably waist another five years to get exactly where you were right now.

When you arrived at the restaurant the maître d brought you to the table where Stan, several other senior partners and Andy were waiting. Andy stood up to pull out your chair.

“Gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Sit down, Y/N. We wanted to introduce you to Andrew Barber.”

“Andy. Please call me Andy. It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N. These guys haven’t stopped talking about you all morning.”

“All good things I hope.” The men laughed and ordered a round of martinis. Good thing you ate a big lunch at home. No one likes a sloppy drunk girl.

“Yes. Well, Y/N, as you may not know Andy has accepted the junior partner position. We would love if you brought him up to speed on anything you’re working on and show him the ropes.”

You were seething. “Of course Mr. Cramer. Happy to.”

“Oh. Good. Let’s order huh? I’m starving.”

You were silent for the rest of lunch ordering two more martinis very dry and a salad. Dressing on the side of course. The men spoke loudly and never even tried to include you in the conversation. You excused yourself to use the restroom. Andy, ever the gentleman, stood up at the same time.

You didn’t go back. Not that it would have mattered. You ordered an Uber and checked your email. You didn’t notice Andy at the valet stand.

“I’m headed back to the office. Need a ride?” he called to you.

“No. I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He watched you pace back and forth reading a message almost out loud.

You didn’t look up from your phone. “Shit.” You scowled looking at the screen. You dialed Caitlan’s extension. “Caitlan, Sloan Treadaway’s deposition was moved to today. I need it pushed to Monday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I figured you would be coming back so I told them it was ok to push it up. I can call them back.”

“No. Don’t bother. I’m on my way back.”

“Looks like you can use a ride after all.” Andy was grinning from ear to ear.

He held the door and rushed around to the other side. You pulled a small bag out of your purse. You freshened your hair, popped some breath mints, lotioned and spritzed away the smell of booze. Andy thought this must be commonplace for you. It’s not easy trying to run with the guys. He could walk into this deposition piss drunk and most people wouldn’t care. You had to be perfect. He always hated that aspect of working in a big firm like this.

“Sorry. I’ll pay to have your car cleaned.” It smelled like you now. Expensive perfume and minty breath. Sweet but not sickly so. He inhaled letting his nostrils flair breathing you in. “Don’t want your wife to be pissed.”

“Lori? Don’t worry about her. She’ll understand.”

“How is she doing with her job search?”

“Doing ok. Thanks for asking. She’s interviewed with a few places.”

“She worked for a non profit right?” When he looked at you quizzically, you quickly explained yourself. “I hear things. Anyway. I know the director of a non profit organization that might be a great fit for her. I’ll pass along her information.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Stan told me you were the front runner for this position. I know how hard it is for women in this industry. I want to say how sorry I am…”

“Let me stop you there. First of all, don’t be sorry. You’re high profile and a damn good litigator. They would be stupid not to offer you the moon. You’re over qualified for this job. You didn’t come here gunning for me. I’ll be fine. Besides, a few of these old bags have one foot in the grave. It won’t be long for me.”

Andy smiled at you but still kind of felt like shit at the way the firm treated you. When you pulled into the garage you offered a quick thanks and rushed into the building to prepare.

Andy stayed behind for a bit. He spent a few precious moments breathing in your scent, letting it linger and wash over him. He hoped his clothes would smell a little like you. Stan said you were a “fire cracker”. Andy always hated that analogy. He knew by the way the group of men talked about you that he would like you. Your quick banter in the car confirmed it. Throughout the rest of the day you would invade his thoughts. He and Lori were still married but their relationship was long over. You had excited him more in a couple of hours than she had in years. When he got home he didn’t eat dinner or speak to anyone. He went right to his room where he replayed your exchange over and over. The ghost of your perfume lingered on his shirt. Both of your scents mixed together gave him a raging hard on. He kept your shirt over his face while he fisted his cock.

——————————————————————

The next morning you decided to face the day with a fresher attitude. Sometime yesterday you heard from your friend. She was thrilled that you reached out to her. She has been trying to get you out there for a while. Knowing that you had a solid backup plan was giving your hair volume and clearing your skin.

You thought you were early but Andy was already in your office waiting for you.

“Morning, Mr. Barber.” God he loved how you said that.

He scoffed, “Andy. Please. I brought you a coffee. I hope it’s ok. I got your order from Caitlan. I thought we’d order in lunch today. We have a lot of ground to cover. You should probably let your family know you’ll be missing dinner.”

“I don’t think my dead ficus will worry too much.” Your tone was dry.

“I apologize for the assumption.”

“Not necessary. Though my mother and my therapist would both be pleased to know that I look like someone who could have a family.”

You were funny. You seemed to say whatever thought popped into your head. You had one hell of a poker face though. He didn’t know if you were trying to be funny or if this was just you. When you didn’t look up from your computer screen he didn’t laugh.

As the day wore on you warmed up to him a little. You filled him in on the three big cases you were working on. You were actually going to trial on a very important case soon. He insisted you rehearse your opening statement a hundred times.

During the third run through Andy’s phone was blowing up. He finally turned it off and told you to keep going. He watched you pace around the room and coached you on your stance. “Stand with authority not arrogance.” He chided. He showed you himself then, asked if he could touch your shoulders. “Round them out like this. Good. Back straight. See?” he pointed to your reflection in the window, “It’s not menacing or arrogant. But you look like you’re in charge. You look perfect.” Hell. Was he flirting with you? By the time you looked at the clock it was 9:30.

“Fuck is that the time?” he said with a boisterous yawn.

“Shit. We should pick this up tomorrow.”

“Let’s go get a drink. I’m buying.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m sure your wife and kiddo are dying to see you.”

He stacked some folders neatly on your desk and looked up at you through his lashes, “I’ll be sure to tell my therapist that I look like a guy who has a happy marriage and a good relationship with his kid.”

Your cheeks heated. The way he was looking at you made you sad but it also warmed your insides. “I’m sorry.” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. We said we would stay together until Jacob went away to school. He pretends to ignore the fact that we have separate bedrooms. We put on happy faces everyday. We’re a typical American family.”

You laughed at his admission. His whole story was so fucked up. You wanted to know everything about him. “You know, I think I will let you buy me a drink.”

“Good girl.” he said in a low voice that went strait to your core. The whole way to the car you repeated a mantra in your head reminding you not to get involved with a married man. It didn’t matter how unhappy they were. But you wanted him. Every time he touched you, your insides would quake.

The bar was packed with regulars from the DA’s office and other firms. You introduced Andy around. The guy was a legitimate pro. He was so smooth working the room. The whole time he kept finding small ways to touch you. The brush of his fingers on your arm his breath against your ear when he asked if wanted another drink. Your heart nearly stopped. You stuck with him for a while until your feet couldn’t stand anymore. Every time he caught your eye from across the room he winked at you.

For the first time in a long time Andy was enjoying himself. Your friends were fun and not at all stuffy like he thought this crowd would be. You were adorable. Your laugh was cute. The way you brushed against him on purpose was cute. You were openly flirting with him the more you drank. He had a massive crush on you. What grown man has a crush these days. He thought maybe if he fucked you and got it out of his system he’d get over it.

Your friend Liz sat down at your table trying to talk to you for a solid minute before you noticed. “Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?” She threw her head back laughing at you.

“I said you two would make a gorgeous couple.”

“Stop. He’s married.”

“Happily?”

“That doesn’t matter. Married is married.”

“So that’s a no. He’s been eye fucking you all night. Shoot your shot, darling. We get so few in this life.” The light hit his wedding ring just right making you feel horrible for even entertaining the thought. Do not get involved. You kept chanting it in your head over and over until Andy slid in the booth next to you. He leaned over so he could talk over the din of the crowd.

“Hey, you. Wanna get out of here?”

“You don’t need to bring me home, Andy. I can catch an Uber.” That was such a ridiculous statement since you lived in the same building.

“That’s not what I asked. I said do you wanna get out of here?” His eyes were fixed on your mouth. A salacious grin splayed across his lips just knowing you’d give in.

“Andy. I….” You stuttered over your words. Your brain stopped working when you felt his warm breath on the shell of your ear. “Let’s get out of here.” Your breath hitched in your chest when he touched the small of your back. He payed his tab and lead you out of the bar.

You held hands in the car. His thumb rhythmically traced patterns on your knuckles. Every touch sent bolts of arousal to your aching cunt. It felt electric. You were ready to crawl into his lap by the time you made it into the garage. He parked in his spot and followed behind you to the elevator. You lived two floors below him. You glanced back at Lori’s sensible suv next to his car and felt embarrassed. He caught you looking and stopped you in your tracks. He took your chin in between his thumb and index finger forcing you to look at him.

“I understand if you don’t want to invite me in. I’m asking a lot of you. But I really like you, Y/N. You are funny and intimidatingly smart. And, fuck me, you are fucking stunning. I can go to work tomorrow like nothing happened. Don’t worry about Lori. Worry about what this means working together. Can you handle this?”

Your brain was no longer working and deferred to your pussy for any and all further decisions. You had not had even mediocre sex in six months. You just knew Andy was going to blow your mind. All day you have been working together so well. You challenged each other and he encouraged you when you faltered. Would this change the dynamic at work? Absolutely. Could you handle it? You’re damn right you could.

“I can handle it.”

“Good girl.” You all but sprinted to the elevator. He wouldn’t touch you until you actually got inside of your apartment and closed the door. When you did, he pushed against you and covered your lips with his.

You tasted the golden flavor of beer on his tongue as it probed your mouth. He unbuttoned your blouse and pushed it over your shoulders letting it hit the floor. He kissed his way down the column of your neck to the swell of your breasts. You panted underneath him raking your nails through his hair.

“God you smell incredible. At any point if you don’t want this….”

“Andy, shut up and fuck me.” He growled low in his throat before he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom. You could see how hard he was through his impeccably tailored slacks. You unzipped his fly and took the whole throbbing appendage in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby yes.” he hissed. You relaxed your throat muscles and swallowed him deeper. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He moaned your name over and over soaking your panties. “Stop, honey. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

He eased you down onto the bed and undressed you painfully slow. It had been so long since he was intimate with someone, he wanted to take his time. He started with your feet removing your heels and massaging your insteps. His hands ran up the length of your legs to your skirt. He took off your panties first letting the skirt material pool around your waist. “So wet for me. So beautiful.” He slipped two fingers in between your folds hitting everywhere but your clit. He built up a tortuous rhythm that had you begging for relief. He smiled down at you watching completely fall apart. When he dipped his fingers inside of you, you were done. Your orgasm spilled out in one glorious cry. Before you could catch your breath he pulled off your skirt and unhooked your bra. His cock was weeping at the sight of you. A large hand held the back of your neck holding your head in place so you could look at him. Your eyes locked as he buried himself inside of you. There were no more words as he moved inside of you. Only breathless moans and sighs would escape your lips. He increased his pace and your orgasm started building again.

“Fuck. Andy, I’m….fuck!”

“I’m with you, honey. Come with me.” His words were your undoing. You latched your whole body onto him. He held you tight whispering praises in your ear. He kissed you slow and deep easing you back down to Earth. “You ok?”

“I think so.” You both laughed at the sight of yourselves. Sweat glistening off of your skin, lips puffy and kiss swollen. He eased off of you and rubbed your thighs to relax you. You thought he would get dressed and rush out but he crawled under the covers instead.

“Can I stay for a while?” Big arms pulled you down to his chest. He stroked your back softly to help you drift off to sleep.

“I’d like it if you did.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and let his eyes flutter closed.

When dawn found you a few hours later, you were still tangled with each other. You jolted awake panicking because Andy was still in your bed. “Andy, wake up. You stayed all night.”

“I know. What time is it?”

“6:45.”

“Then we have time. Go back to sleep.”

“But Lori…”

“I told you not to worry about her. Get back on this pillow and let me hold you. Please.” The poor guy was so touch starved you guessed. Andy Barber was not a man who did well being single. He loved being in love. He longed for a connection. For passion. He knew those things would sometimes fizzle out of a marriage. But, with you, he couldn’t see that. Your fire matched his fire and Lori was the wet blanket that always snuffed him out.

He supposed that wasn’t really fair. Two people were in their marriage. He worked long hours and spent very little time doing anything but being an ADA and being a dad. He didn’t give the same dedication to being Lori’s partner. The stress of this past year pushed them further apart. He felt obligated to be with her. It was his idea to stay together for Jacob’s sake. He regretted pushing for it.

He pulled you close to his body and wrapped an arm around your waist. He nuzzled your hair and fell back to sleep. You did too.

[221bshrlocked]

Okay. Here me out. Leaving Javi a note telling him to meet you at your place around midnight 😏

Bruh, you’re killing me and you know perfectly well I am incapable of not writing something down when I get these kinds of messages. ugh. now i’m hot and bothered. Again. I blame you for this and for not being able to start on the Pedro/Sebastian/Reader fics...but enjoy this.

He was already having a hard time ignoring you during debriefing, ignoring the side glances and the smiles and the way you constantly moved just so he could spare you a look. But then you had the audacity to slip a note in his back pocket as you left the meeting and he all but lost it, ignoring Steve’s teasing remarks and almost cussing him out when he heard him laugh at his blush.

Waiting until everyone left the room, he fished the note from his pocket and unfolded it, smiling like a schoolboy when he read your words and shoving it back in his pocket as he returned to his desk. You were standing next to Steve discussing something about the meeting and Javier narrowed his eyes at you when he saw you lean over and whisper something in Steve’s ears.

As soon as you left, Javier sat down and crossed his legs, lighting a cigarette and waiting until Steve turned his way before warning him.

“Fucking watch it.” It was more of a growl than a hiss really and Steve snorted at his partner before holding up his hands and pointing at his wedding ring.

Javier wasn’t sure how he’d managed to keep his mind from steering towards you all day long but as the sun set and the moon rose in the night sky, he was sure he has never been edged for this fucking long. As the clock struck eleven, he decided to hit up the bar near the building where you stayed, hoping to relax before making his way towards you.

He should have known better. As soon as he walked in, he saw you sitting and chatting up the bartender, swirling a clear drink around before throwing it back and asking him for another. He walked towards you, pulling out the chair and lighting a cigarette before nodding towards the man.

“Whiskey por favor...” It was a forced request and you shook your head when you remembered how much he hated it when you laughed at others’ jokes.

“You know, jealousy isn’t an attractive trait Javi.” You winked at him before paying for the drinks, downing the vodka in one sip before standing up and leaning towards him.

“But you make it look so sexy baby.” You whispered in his ears, letting your hands trail down his chest before grabbing his inner thighs. He groaned against you, dragging a breath from his cigarette as you kissed his cheek before walking away.

Javier watched as you sauntered out of the bar with an extra sway to your hips, turning around before exiting and winking at him.

“Pinche puta madre,” he whispered under his breath before mirroring your actions and chugging down the whiskey, forcing a smile at the bartender and leaving a tip right before leaving. He wasn’t a desperate man, far from it, but he felt that it would be rude to keep you waiting.

Running across the street, he pushed the code to the gate and went up the stairs two at a time, strutting straight to your door while attempting to calm his nerves.

He shook his head when he saw it was cracked open, slamming it behind him and not caring how loud he was being as he made his way to your bedroom.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? The hell were you thinking leaving the door unlocked?” Javier didn’t expect to see you almost naked and he hated how distracted he became whenever he saw the expanse of your skin.

“Left it open for you mi amor.”

“Anyone could have walked in.” He was finding it harder to stay in control of his voice, clenching his jaw when he saw you walking towards him in nothing but a bra and panties.

“You’re not anyone Javi.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and stepping on his shoes to reach his cheek.

“And how did you know I was going to come now bebé?” His voice was much lower now, hands hovering against the skin of your hips to try and hold off just a little while longer.

“You’ve been undressing me with your eyes all fucking day Javi, that’s how I knew you were going to follow me.” Licking his neck, you stopped right at his Adam’s apple and kissed it before sucking on the cartilage until you felt him wrap his arms around you.

“And you’ve been eye-fucking me all day sweet girl.” He didn’t push you away, enjoying the attention you were giving him and finding it uncharacteristically calming. He thought it was hilarious, the first time you told him just how much his neck turned you on. No one has ever said that to him. Previous lovers usually complimented his lips, his tongue, and not surprisingly, his dick. But then you came along and refused to stop talking about the way his fingers were the right size, and he wasn’t sure if that was in reference to the way he fucked you with fingers sometimes or how he loved to keep hold of your throat as you rode him. And he truly enjoyed those days where you were somehow hornier than him because you went on and on about his mustache and his neck and his jaw and his fucking thighs. It drove him mad.

“Guilty as charged Agent. Now, you wanna put those cuffs to good use or should I just call Steve t-”

“Don’t you fucking dare querida.” You giggled when he growled in response, turning you around and throwing you on the bed. You didn’t bother to turn around, looking over your shoulder to watch him as he stripped down to nothing and joined you.

“Oh, what do we have here?” You smiled when you felt his cock hit your ass cheeks, shaking your hips when you felt him pull down your panties and push them against his nostrils.

“Smell so fucking sweet, all the god damn time.” Javier was talking more to himself than you and he narrowed his eyes down at you when he saw the way you were eyeing him.

“Javi please, I need you. Just fuck me already.”

“You sure you don't wanna call Steve cariño?” He was teasing you, unhooking your bra and trailing his eyes down the curves of your back as you took it off and threw it away. He pushed the head of his cock in your cunt and held himself there, waiting for you to beg for him.

“Please Javi, lo siento...I don’t want anyone else baby. I want you to fuck me, please...missed this cock. Missed having you fill me up with your cum...don’t you wanna feel me baby?” You knew what your words did to him, even if he didn’t tell you. That was the thing with Javier, once he heard you begging for him, he’d forego all plans of teasing you. And just as you knew, Javier was bottoming out and throwing his weight on you, hissing in your ears as he slowly bucked his hips against your ass and filled you up.

“Fucking shit sweetheart. You’re always so tight around me. So warm and tight and fucking heavenly.” Javier bit down on your shoulder, sliding his arm beneath you and cupping your breasts to keep some semblance of control. You were panting under him, occasionally gasping his name when you felt him pinch and roll your nipples in between his fingers.

He alternated between deep and slow thrusts to quick and shallow ones, enjoying the way you whined and moaned every time he changed his pace just to deny you of your orgasm. With each pass of his cock, you felt your cunt squeeze tighter around him, the wet, squelching sounds you were making letting him know just how much you wanted him tonight.

“Come on querida, don’t fall behind.” Javier moaned against your ear, snapping his hips again and again until the only sounds in the room where your combined heavy pants and his navel hitting your ass cheeks.

“Just want your hands Javi, I- ah fuck, I’m so close baby you fuck me so good. No one- oh god, no one fucks me like you Javi. Please, I wanna cum. Wanna cum on your cock oh god, oh fuck- right there, right fucking there.”

“Fucking hell baby that’s it. Taking my dick so deep...so well. Cum on me, let me feel this sweet cunt clench around me. Milk me dry mi cariño..fuck, ah fuck- cum on me. Now!” His pace faltered, and he felt your legs shaking beneath him just as he pushed his cock one last time inside you before coming, and you bit his wrist when you felt him coating your walls with streaks of warm cum. He rubbed at your clit furiously, hissing when you violently squeezed around him as you reached your peak. When you tried to reach down and stop him, Javier shook his head against you and bit your back, continuing his assault on your pussy until you were begging him to stop.

When he finally pulled away and rolled to his side, you turned your face towards him and let out a deep sigh of relief. He reached down to his pants and took out another cigarette, lighting it as he sat up against the headboard and motioned for you to come to him. You grabbed the covers and haphazardly threw them over the two of you, nuzzling into his side as he drew random patterns on your shoulders.

“Next time you want me fuck you querida, don’t give me a twelve-hour heads up.” He looked serious but you knew this was as close to him being playful as he could get.

“Well, I just wanted to give you something to look forward to...”

“Yeah well, I barely got anything done today...’ve been fucking hard since I read your note.”

“I mean you can always just fuck me on your desk.” You smiled when he raised an eyebrow at you before blowing out smoke through his nose. Only Agent Javier Peña could make smoking look this sexy.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Showing everyone how much of a good girl you can be.” He finally cracked that infamous toothy smile at you and you swore your heart was close to leaping out of your chest and flying out the window.

“Only for you Javi, only for you.”