#fucking christ he is handsome though

[saraminia]

Noah Reid as Tommy Cummins in Murder in a Small Town (2024–) S1E08 "Sleep While I Sing"

[jam-packed]

been very into borderlands lately

how do i make this abt motogp..........

[gurugirl]

[1] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 1 Word Count: 8,282

Ch. 1 Warning: smut (not w/Y/n), funeral scene, parental death, manipulation and coercion, corruption kink, humiliation

. .

The sky was gray, which seemed fitting for the occasion, and a single bell from the watchtower at the kingdom's town center slowly clanged the funeral toll.

It was a sad day for the prosperous kingdom of Thornekeep. The king’s funeral was quite the spectacle. There was not one citizen with a dry eye, for King Augustus Styles was beloved by all. The townsfolk stood along the cobbled road as two steeds pulled the king’s covered coffin to the cathedral for a ceremony that would end the elder King Styles’ reign and make way for the prince to be crowned by birthright.

The young prince was at the front of the procession riding on a lone horse wearing battle armor, along with his father’s shield and sword. No one could read his expression as he kept his eyes on the road ahead toward the cathedral. The people of the monarchy were not so keen on the prince. He was not as warm as his father, and he often ruffled feathers. Some would say he was downright mean. But what could they do? He had been brought up for this very thing. To rule and protect the kingdom and its people. They would have to put their trust in him no matter what.

The ceremony was attended by the royal court, Privy Counsellors, Lord Mayor, Realm High Commissioners as well as the family of the King. Prince Harry Styles sat on the woven red wool chair at the front as the announcement was made by the Council and the accession declaration was called before the Prince stood to receive his crown.

When the ceremony had concluded the old Sovereign’s casket was taken again by steed for the final burial where the whole of the kingdom stood in wait as their new King made his proclamation over the land and the kingdom to the public.

And so it was. The new Sovereign of Thornekeep, King Harry Edward Styles, would rule over the people henceforth.

.           .           .

“Your Majesty, we apologize for the intrusion, but it is time to get to the order of official business.”

“You wouldn’t have to apologize if you weren’t intruding, now would you?” Harry’s groggy voice spoke as he remained sprawled on his back in his warm velvet bed with three naked women lying draped over his limbs still fast asleep and unaware of the two men standing at the King’s chambers door.

“May it please Your Majesty if we return in one half-hour’s time? Our Lord Mayor and the Orders of Council are awaiting you in the Great Hall. This is a very important meeting, Sir.”

Harry knew he had a meeting set up. He knew it was important to keep it and he understood the gravity of it all. But he couldn’t resist when he took three lovely young things with him to his chambers the evening prior and they each let him do as he pleased. He’d just been crowned King for Christ’s sake! He deserved to sew his wild oats before things got heavy and real and it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty of his new stifling responsibilities.

“I will find myself in the Great Hall in one half-hour’s time. No need to return.”

“Yes, Sir. And what should we tell the Lord Mayor of your tardiness?”

“Fuck’s sake! I don’t care! Tell them I’ve got my privy member sallying forth and I’m in the sack with three concubines if you like! The Lord Mayor can wait a half hour. Give him a thumb of brandy. Tha’ should keep him with a smile.”

It was this very attitude that had the folk of Thornekeep nervous. Harry’s proclivity for saying what he pleased with little regard for the people he was saying it to.

The two men bowed their heads and backed out the door, closing it behind them before Harry sat up, pushing the women from him and stretching his arms overhead.

His first full day as King. He’d not looked forward to wearing the crown. But he knew what he needed to do and he had no choice just as the kingdom had no choice but to accept him as he was; full of grit and scandal, haughtiness and ego.

His bare feet landed on the heavy wood floors and he scratched his member before draping a sheet over the naked women in his bed. They’d all had too much to drink and Harry figured they could stay put until he returned. Maybe another round or two would do him some good and sober him up before he kicked them out to get back to their duties. Whatever those were.

He robed himself that morning and even though he’d been offered a personal dresser to assist him, he declined. Harry didn’t like the idea of having a valet in wait unless he was feeling like making them watch him fuck whoever he took in his bed for the night. That could be fun… Harry liked being watched. Maybe he’d reconsider and take a personal assistant after all.

The council and mayor were sitting in their places in the Great Hall when Harry sauntered in, unkempt and smelling of muff. Everyone stood and waited until he took his seat at the head of the long wooden table. Light poured in through the stained-glass panel behind him and everyone awaited the King’s call to order.

“We may begin,” he spoke. And so it started.

It was laid out for Harry the major issues that always needed tackling, allocation for funds and the people of Thornekeep, the Kingdom’s allies, and enemies, projects left undone that were awaiting signatures or provisional work. Then there were the upcoming events and additional contracts that needed sorting.

But there was also the concern of the King’s marital status.

“You’ll need a Queen. Someone to continue the Styles’ lineage for Thornekeep. The people will want to know they are under the rule of a stable Sovereign.”

“What does it matter how the people feel? I can rule without a Queen. I’d rather not be hindered.” Harry waved a hand as he spoke unconcerned.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, how do you expect to have a child out of wedlock?”

The cheeky grin that pulled up on Harry’s face had his advisor suddenly standing to stop the King from answering that question but Harry only laughed and looked at the man. “Sit. Do not interrupt me again. I think Our Lord Mayor would like a lesson in biology and I’m not one to turn down a teaching moment.”

The advisor relented with a sigh (what was he to do? tell the King not to speak?), sat back down and Harry began. “One does not need the burden of wedlock to create offspring. It’s quite simple you see…” All the men knew where this was going as Harry continued. “All I need to do is stick my fiddle within the sweet quim whiskers of a beautiful woman and keep it in until I’ve done my duty. Could take a few rounds to set but I imagine soon enough the woman receiving my bounty will be heavy with child and upon the moment of birth will provide me an heir. No need for a marital contract of any sort.”

The men of the council looked around at one another in near shock at Harry’s dismissal of tradition as the Lord Mayor spoke. “That will not do. It is imperative that you find a Queen, my Lord. You need a woman that will raise said heir in the castle with you, bring them up properly, and teach them our ways. This will be your legacy. You must see that.”

Harry knew of course that his words would fall on deaf ears. He knew he’d have to marry and make a show of it. But he did rather enjoy seeing the looks on the faces of the fancy and feathered men, all tensed with their sleek coverings of velvet and wool and white tights tucked into silk and leather shoes with shiny silver buckles and heels that made them appear taller than they were.

“Fine. I’ll have my selection in a fortnight.”

His selection. As if he were choosing a dish to be served for dinner. But that is how Harry saw it after all. He would have his choice of dishes just as he would have his choice of women. It would be the roasted venison with piping hot potatoes, smothered in butter, and artichokes for his dinner, and for his wife, he’d take the pretty redhead with the plump bottom and big bosom lying in his bed. She had the kind of tummy that would take a child well he figured.

Making his way to his chambers he whistled a tune to himself, his mood not diminished by the news of his new tasks, for he was about to wet his fiddle once again. The redhead did seem quite desirable in that moment. But instead, upon entering his room, the redhead was missing.

The two others were lying on their backs and turned to see the King enter. Sitting up quickly Harry pulled his robe off and shut his door. “Where is the redhead with big breasts?”

“She was gone when I woke, Your Majesty,” the one with dark hair spoke.

“Well, bullocks. Do you know her name?”

Both women shook their heads no. “No, King.”

Harry sighed and continued removing his clothes. Well, if he couldn’t find a wife that night, he’d enjoy what was leftover in his room. He had a fortnight after all. Plenty of time to find someone he could tolerate. He had no intention of selecting anyone from the pool of suitable women the advisors told him about. That was a bore.

“You.” He pointed at the fair-skinned girl. “Sit in that chair and face the bed.”

Harry’s undervest was pulled off and he was left naked as he walked up to the one with dark hair and grinned at her. “You’ll suck my cock while she watches.”

He enjoyed his position of power. Women never told him no. Not when he was a prince and certainly not now as King. He had the young woman take him down her throat and checked in with the fair-skinned girl. “Keep watching. Want to make sure you get a good look at how well she does it. Just like last night. This one knows how to suck.”

Her slick mouth encased his girth and he groaned as he stood at the bed, the girl on her hands and knees taking the King on her tongue and gagging violently around his length.

“Oh, a noise maker!” Harry moaned, “Keep up the good work my little whore…”

The girl sputtered and pushed away from him, gasping as she looked up at him. “I’m not a prostitute! I’m–“

Harry interrupted, balking, “I don’t care. Think of it as a term of endearment. Get back and finish the job. It’s much better when you don’t speak.”

“King… perhaps you could just fuck me? My throat is starting to hurt.” She rounded her eyes at him.

He sighed as if it were an annoyance. “Okay. Turn around, face down.” He looked over at the girl on the chair. “Still watching?”

She nodded. “Yes, King.”

Harry poked himself into the pretty woman and she was already slick for him. He enjoyed a cunt just as much as he enjoyed a mouth and the view he had was rather delightful. He rocked into her and watched as her pussy lips gripped him, her insides coating him with a glisten that smelled like a proper cock wrapper.

His heart began to thud harder as he thrust into the hilt, smacking his hips into her soft round bottom and moaning in gasps as he felt his testicles squeeze and tighten. 

The girl was making her own little grunted noises but Harry wasn’t concerned if she finished or not.

Harry’s breathy moans changed into something deeper and more guttural the closer he got and he began to pound into her harder.

“Ahh! Oh!” She hollered as she was spread open by the King’s large cock.

But before she could even find her end Harry was pulling himself from her and spraying her back with his royal come and moaning in delight at his release.

The girl fell into the bed with a whine and the King noted the one watching was sitting at the edge of her seat with her eyes upon his cock.

“S’nice in’nit?” He turned toward her with his member in his palm. “Clean it off. Let’s make my knob shiny and new again.”

The girl was quick to lean in and take him in her mouth, licking off the slick from the other one who was left unsatisfied on the bed.

And when he’d had quite enough and his prick was deflating he parted from the girl and patted her cheek. “There we are. Off you go. Both of you. I’ve got to find myself a Queen.”

 .           .           .

Y/n had seen the procession with the new King from his father’s funeral at the cathedral. He was a handsome man with a strange emotion set on his face. She couldn’t tell what it was, but sadness, it was not. She’d heard all the talk about him from when he was a Prince. An ass of a man with an ego the size of Rome. And now, worries of the new King’s reckless attitude being trouble for Thornekeep.

No one could know exactly what to make of it. He’d not yet really had a chance to do much of anything. As Prince, he served in the Royal Army. It was said that he led a very strict outfit during times of conflict and was good at negotiation. That he loved confrontation and could coordinate a group of soldiers to be the best and most feared on the lines. But what did that mean for the citizens of his kingdom? The monarchy relied on his strength and wits to lead. While it was a promising thing that he was good at combat and negotiation, what about the finer details of being a sovereign leader? How would the people fare?

 “Right prat our new king. Doesn’t give a shite about us lot. You wait and see. S’gonna fuck the poor til we’re caged up like hogs. I don’t trust ‘im.” Lane was three quarts of beer in and Y/n watched as he guzzled from his tin.

The pair were sitting outside in the cold near the corner of the factory where the middle-income earners worked. Hoping for any scraps they might be willing to part with.

Y/n was a beggar. She would hold out her fabric basket or her satchel and try to look as haggard and tired as she could. But most just sniffed at her and walked past. She was young and while not the picture of health with her greasy hair and bones protruding, she was not fully unhealthy either. Most who gave to the poor were poor themselves. So she tried to look worse off to get anything she could.

A loaf of bread, a small salt fish, and whatever fibrous mash of grains and beans could be spared was allotted to each household weekly. And for Y/n, that was not enough food for her parents, her grandmother, and her three little sisters. She often went without eating and was the only one who could handle the chilled air for hours at a time to beg anyone who would spare a morsel.

Thornekeep was a rich, thriving kingdom but as was the norm for every city, town, and kingdom across the land, poor people did exist. Y/n had heard tales of other kingdoms that never allotted any food to households. And how some didn’t even have a roof over their heads at all. She was told she should be thankful that she wasn’t sleeping on the streets with the rats and their excrement as was common elsewhere.

But she wasn’t thankful. Her lot in life was hell. No one deserved to be treated as she was even if she was given a monthly stipend.

The debutante was held a week after King Harry’s crowning. Of course, Y/n would not attend. She was not of that world nor even close to being in a league where one would want her hand in marriage. What a laugh! Y/n imagined herself being presented among all the young beauties in their fine dresses with jewels and pinned and curled hair. What man would look at her and think he’d offer a proposal?

The young ladies and their mothers were all dressed to the nines. Shoulders held back, hair pinned high, fake smiles plastered on their faces… They were there to show the kingdom they were eligible for marriage and to compete for the king’s eye.

King Harry would be in attendance to select a bride for himself. He seemed to reject the normal route of having a queen selected for him. There were many who were raised up for that very thing and so his choice should have been easy. But he was stubborn. No one was surprised. Every woman presented to him, of those that his court felt would be a good match, he hardly even looked at before rudely sending away. 

Gossip traveled through Thornekeep as the ball was held to show off the citizens’ most beautiful and affluent daughters around. If he didn’t want the perfectly crafted, and trained young women fit to be his wife and queen, then perhaps he’d find one at the ball.

As always, Y/n sat perched near the castle gates holding out a small fabric basket for anyone to give anything and, as always, the scraps she did get were barely fit for filthy stray street dogs. Most of the people on that day were tucked away and out of sight in their covered carriages, horses trotting past, kicking up mud. She was used to being disappointed. Used to being ignored. Used to going hungry at the end of the day.

 "Dungworms, all 'em. Don't care if they dress in linen and fur. They're nothing but beetle-headed rot. Hate all 'em," Lane moaned as a coach passed them by. He threw a vulgar gesture toward them, but only after they were out of sight. It wasn't worth it to get in trouble over.

"S'true. Can't wait for the Spring. At least then we'll have the sun warming us while all the ratbags pretend they're better than us."

They laughed as they looked into the gates that were opening for the carriage. The castle was a majestic landmark. Y/n imagined that inside it was warm with fireplaces in every room and a hot stove in the kitchen that was constantly cooking food for the king and all his staff.

Maybe one day she'd be lucky enough to sneak inside without being caught. She could hide in one of the many rooms and pilfer food little by little and warm her bum at night by one of the fires.

She sighed at the silly dream, as her stomach growled and the gates clanked shut.

 . .

The young women were all pretty enough. Harry was sure any one of them would be a fit. It wasn’t like he needed to do more than fuck the new queen until she was pregnant anyway but still… He found the freshly washed, smooth-skinned, rose and powder-scented young ladies of Thornekeep to all be a bore. And what good was making such a boring selection? Harry wanted people to watch. He wanted to see as all the advisor’s jaws fell to the floor. He wanted to make a scene. None of these fancy-frocked girls would do. He needed something more exciting that would really ruffle everyone’s feathers.

Stepping away from the pomp and circumstance of the ball he stood out on his balcony and watched out over the front of the castle yard with people milling about and stringed music floating up toward him. The gates were open with guards at the stand as new arrivals made their way in but he noticed a small group of peons sitting not far from the wall with their baskets and tins held out hoping for a scrap.

And he had a sudden idea. Using his small telescope he fitted it against his eye and lengthened the eyepiece to get a better look. Among the group of menials was a young woman. She was thin (too thin) and she had a scowl about her face but the thing that really stuck out to him was that she was… pretty. Not pretty in the way that many would notice but with a month or two of larded foods and sugared pastries, she’d be just as pretty as any of the girls in the ballroom. 

Even better, she was of peasant stock and the kingdom would lose their mind over such a pairing. It was perfect. He could simultaneously cause a stir among the lowly proletariats, the middle-class bourgeoisie, and the affluent magnates at the same time. No one would expect it. And no one could stop it.

Harry descended the stairs as everyone in the room had eyes on him. The King easily dodged anyone looking for attention or conversation and pushed through to the front as he exited the castle. His guards followed close behind with Fred, one of his men in waiting, scrambling to catch up with Harry’s long-legged strides. 

“King Styles! Where are you going?”

“Off to meet a young lady who sits opposite the wall. I think I’ve found my Queen.” 

The King’s approach felt like slow motion. Guards surrounded as he sauntered along the path toward the gates and Y/n couldn’t imagine why the King himself would be walking through them and not be driven in a carriage. Mud was kicked up on his fine dressings and shoes but he seemed unbothered by the mess.

“You.” He pointed, his finger (adorned with a heavy gold ring) appearing to be directed right at her. “What’s your name?”

Looking to her left and right she furrowed her brow as she looked back to the young king.

“Can you hear or not? You, the one with the fabric basket, what’s your name?”

Putting her hand over her chest she responded. “Me? Your Highness, forgive m–“

“Said– what’s your name, girl?” He spoke in a clipped, annoyed tone.

He stopped in front of her feet, standing tall over where she sat upon the dirt and brick. “My name is Y/n. Your majesty.” She bowed her head.

“None of that. Up. Stand up.”

She felt his hand groping underneath her armpit as she was pulled upward, clutching onto the empty basket.

"How old are you?"

Y/n looked behind herself toward Lane and then back at the king. "I'm 20, your majesty."

His odd inspection had her feeling a bit miffed. She would have told him to watch his hands and to be gentler but this was the king. She couldn’t have imagined what interest he had in her but when he turned her around and held her out in his arms to view her backside he spoke. “We can work with this. Bit skinny but soon enough she’ll be well fed.”

“Your Highness… sir, the young women in the ballroom are far more… Why you can’t possibly–“ his attendant spoke.

“I can do as I please and I say this is the one, Fred.” The King spoke before he twisted Y/n back around and examined her rag of a dress before speaking. “Bring the coach around. I need to have her come in quietly at the back where the servants enter and then brought up to the Rose Room forthwith. We’ll need a few ladies-in-waiting as well. Do that for me without running your mouth to anyone and I’ll give you the night off.”

She watched with wide eyes, confused as the man called Fred scurried off back to the castle and then turned to look up at the king. “Your Majesty, I don’t understand. What is your business with me? Have I done something wrong?”

“On the contrary. Your luck is about to change. With a little sprucing you’ll be quite darling I think. You’ll live with me in the castle henceforth.”

Her lips parted as she dropped her empty basket and looked down at Lane who was also in shock with his mouth agape at the whole encounter before looking back to the King. “I don’t understand. Why will I live with you? Am I being sequestered or summoned for a servant’s job?”

“Oh no. Nothing like that. In one month’s time you’ll be crowned Queen. You and I will produce an heir to the throne once our nuptials bind us for good. You’ll be given your own room with your own attendants and we’ll fatten you up in no time to prepare you for carrying my offspring.” 

She gasped and felt everything around her spin and spin and spin until all was dark and her mind stopped reaching for answers.

Harry caught her in his arms before she fell to the ground. He wasn’t surprised she fainted, given how malnourished she appeared. A guard and two of his aids helped bring her inside once the carriage arrived and up to the room that would be hers. A down mattress, silk and velvet bedsheets and blankets, a fireplace lit with a pot of warm water on the hearth, and a tray with a bounty of food were all waiting for her.

And if she was shocked by the King’s announcement about her being the Queen then waking up in such a lavish room that smelled of flowers and the smoke of a warm fireplace surely had her confused.

When she sat up, she felt the weight of a goose-down blanket draped over her body heavily. Blinking her eyes she saw a flickering fire and the ornate details of the room she was in.

“Madam…” A woman was suddenly stood at her side with a towel draped over her arm. “The King has requested that you bathe and eat before we bring you to him. Which would you like first?”

She shook her head, unsure of what was going on exactly. “I… is this for me?” She gestured toward the tray of food. Colorful fruits and a loaf of hearty bread caught her eye. She could go for a meal.

“It is. Would you like anything more?”

She quickly slid her legs from under the blanket and stepped toward the tray. The bright red apple beckoned her so she picked it up and took a large bite of the skin and flesh before tearing off some of the bread and stuffing that in her mouth as well.

There were blackberries, pears, bilberries, plums, a bowl of boiled potatoes, and cream. A pitcher of red wine beckoned with a pretty crystal goblet to drink out of. There was a whole smoked and salted fish, a gob of butter, and her favorite, a plum tart.

She’d nearly eaten the whole tray when she realized the woman had filled a tub with warm water and perfumed oil. She sat down the emptied glass feeling buzzed from the wine and stuffed so full that her ribs ached.

The room she was in was easily twice the size of the slum housing her family was given. The room was opulent and lit with fuel sconces and lanterns. A fireplace kept the space warm and the furnishings were a feast for the eyes. She imagined that the porcelain bowl near the tub would pay for a month of food for her family.

"Your bath is ready, madam. If you'd like I can leave you alone while you bathe or I can assist."

Y/n stepped in closer to the bathtub. It was one of those built-in tubs that you stepped down into, not the metal ones you had to climb up in. Her family didn't even have their own tub. It was shared with the men from the workhouse across the way and set at the back of the buildings outside.

But here, the tub was inside in a warm room and there was even a ledge to sit. Privacy. She'd love a little privacy.

"I'll be fine on my own. Thank you."

The woman nodded and left the room after folding a cloth and placing it near the tub. Y/n began to take her clothes off, the dirty rags left in a stinky pile on the wool rug before she dipped a toe into the bath. The water was hot. She could see the steam rising from it as she slowly slunk down inside and settled her bottom into the seat ledge. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the water surround her body and soak away the dirt and grime between all her bits and crevices.

And the scent wafting from the water was glorious. Like a flower with honey and tea caressing her skin. She used the small cloth to wipe herself down and then dunked her head to clean her face. The last time she had a proper bath was over a month prior. Her usual cleanup method consisted of a wetted rag wiped over her privy area and underarms.

But to have a hot bath scented with herbs and flowers by a warm fire in a room decorated with the finest fittings was a dream. A real-life fantasy come true. She couldn't wait to tell Lane about the whole thing. It almost all had her so distracted she'd forgotten the reason why she was there in the first place.

She let her limbs float outward as she closed her eyes and basked in the delicious silence. Everything in her life was chaos and noise and panic. But in that moment, none of that existed. Not until the door of her room was being opened and the young woman who'd filled the tub had returned with heavy material and silky fabrics draped over her arms.

She laid the clothes out on the bed in a row as Y/n watched from her spot in the tub.

"I've an outfit here the King has selected for you. I'll help you put it on once you're ready."

Y/n stretched her neck and peered toward the bed. "The King. Will I be seeing him once I'm dressed?"

"Yes, madam. He would like to see you when you're ready."

The reality of it all was heavy when she was helped from the tub and felt the prick of chills run over her skin. As warm as the fireplace made the room, it was still winter outside and she shivered as she dried her skin.

The young woman helped dress her. Y/n'd never worn such frocks before. It was a complicated task, getting dressed in fine clothing. She lost track of all the layers as she was fitted and the material tied around her and her body tossled. But even she could admit, once all the fabric was put into place and the woman began to fuss with her hair she looked quite captivating.

For a beggar.

She was led through a carpeted hall that seemed to stretch the length of the whole of Thornekeep until they were stopped at a wide doorway that opened up to a pair of mammoth wooden double doors. The young woman glanced back at Y/n before she rapped her knuckles over the heavy door firmly.

The door didn't open right away. Moments went by as Y/n shifted on her feet and the young woman nervously smiled at Y/n.

"I'm Phoebe. Think I forgot to introduce myself," she spoke quietly as she trailed her sight over Y/n's dress. "Hopefully the King is kind to you. He's been… difficult—"

The door was pushed open and a beautiful woman with olive skin stepped past them. "He's all yours," she spoke in a sultry voice that Y/n could only hope to one day mimic.

Phoebe gestured for Y/n to pass through and Y/n stepped into the King's chambers. If she thought her room was spectacular, his was a sickening show of lush wealth and haughty, needless adornments.

She was startled when the king spoke from his lounge. "Come. Sit."

Y/n and Phoebe walked deeper into his room and stepped down into a sunken seating area. Harry sat up straight and motioned toward Phoebe. "Not you. Leave us."

When it was just Y/n and Harry and she'd delicately sat her bottom at the furthest spot from the king she could find, Harry got up and placed himself next to her. "Are you scared of me?" He asked with a bright tone, as if it amused him.

"Your majesty, I don't know how to act. I've never seen such indulgent things in all my life as today."

He nodded and looked her over. "What are you wearing?" He lifted at her skirt and she batted his hand away on instinct.

"Phoebe said you picked it for me."

"Who is Phoebe?"

Y/n blinked and looked toward his chamber doors and back at the king in confusion. "The lady who helped dress me and… She was just here with me. The one you sent away."

"How sweet that you learned her name already. And I didn't pick this for you." He plucked at the fabric. "I asked that you come here in nothing but a robe so I could inspect you."

She scooted away from him, her heart racing at the idea of showing herself to him without clothes. Harry laughed and leaned himself back into the large cushioned seat and draped a leg over his knee as he watched her curiously. "You are scared. Good. You should be. Take off your clothes."

Shaking her head she squished herself as far from him as she could but he simply reached his leg out and hooked his foot under her ankle to pull at her. "Don't do that. Said remove your clothes, girl."

"Yo– your majesty… I don't even know how these were put on. I don't know how. I… I've never…" Her heart was racing and she felt her fingers tremble as he sat and grinned at her like this was a game to him.

"What? You can't remove your coverings because you don't know how? I can deal with a timid vazey, but not a liar. Off with your things."

"No! You're rude! I will not!"

The king scoffed, surprised at her disrespect, as he pushed himself up to stand and stood over his bride-to-be. "I am rude, you'll learn well. But I have needs and you're here to keep them. Look at me when I speak to you."

Hesitantly, Y/n lifted her face upward to look into the eyes of the man who she could hardly believe would be her husband. That part—that didn't feel real. Not at all. It couldn't be.

"Have you ever been touched by a man before?"

She thought she might pass out as her skin heated under the scrutiny of his gaze. "No. Of course, not. I'm unwed."

He laughed. "Plenty of unwed ladies get their fannies fucked and fingered, my poor feather-brained girl. You're a virgin?"

She nodded, keeping silent, though not happy about the insult to her intelligence. Perhaps she wasn't as smart as someone with a royal education but she knew how to read and could do basic math, which was more than almost everyone in her social stratus.

"I see." Harry sighed and reached down to grip her jaw and look her over like she was an animal. "Surprised no one has warmed their member with your quim yet. Rather sickly but you are pretty. Have you ever seen one?"

She gulped loudly. "Seen… seen one? What?"

He clicked his tongue and smirked. "A cock, my dear. Have you seen a cock?"

Y/n, though a virgin, wouldn't call herself a prude. She was used to crash speak and rude men but the king was a shock to her. She never imagined someone with his pedigree could be so filthy. "Yes."

He let go of her jaw, keeping his eyes set on hers as he lifted his brows. "Oh, you have. And did you play with it?"

"No!" Y/n looked down at her lap and inhaled a breath. She couldn't believe the conversation she was having with the king.

She felt his long fingers at her jaw again, forcing her to lift her gaze back up at him. "Don't look away from me when we're talking."

She knocked her head up and down and he dropped his hand away from her.

"Would you like to see mine?"

Her eyes widened and she shot her gaze down toward his crotch and then back up to his face. "No."

He smiled and let out a hearty laugh as he began to unbutton his forest green silk tricot coat. He eyed her, waiting to hear her protest again but when she simply watched him he continued to undo his outer layers until he had access to his breeches and tucked his fingers into the buttons at his front flap. Raising a brow he paused to give her a chance to tell him to stop.

But she only watched, flicking her gaze from his hands up to his face. She wouldn't admit it but she was curious. Scared a little of his demeanor and that he was the sovereign and could do as he pleased with her if he wanted, she still wondered what it might look like.

His pink lips curved upward slowly as he unhooked one button and let the fabric drape dangerously low. "I'm not going to make you suck it or anything. But if you want, I won't deny you your pleasure."

Y/n bristled and blinked her eyes away from him to the edge of the room before looking back up at him. "You're rude."

He smiled sweetly, a handsome dimple dipping into his cheek like he wasn't just about to whip out his big fiddle and show her. "You said that, yes… Keep going? Or stop? Up to you. I've got plenty of others I can show it to. They're all waiting, just hoping you disappoint me. They'd love to be in your shoes right now. Vying to be the next Queen of Thornekeep. If you don't want to be here you may leave and go back to the street. What will it be?"

She inhaled slowly and fought the stinging embarrassment that needled at her insides. She wasn't keen on seeing the king's privy member but his handsome face was alluring and if she said no, would she not be kept as Queen? Did she even want to be Queen of Thornekeep? She could say no and he'd send her back out into the cold with her old brown rags and her fabric begging basket. She'd have quite the tale to tell but that would be it. Everything would go back to how it always was. She'd continue sitting in the street and asking for kindness from strangers who wouldn't even offer her a glance, as the excruciating pain of hunger slowly ate her alive.

"Continue," Y/n spoke as confidently as she was able to. She didn't want that life anymore. Though she had no idea what she was getting herself into with the king, she figured it was better than life as a beggar. Cold, dirty, starved, angry, riddled with pain in her bones like she was an elderly woman… Being fed, bathed in perfumed oils, and dressed in fine silk and wool skirts, inside a warm castle, with a bedroom all her own wasn't just tempting, she wanted it. Even her bed and its heavy down blanket were to die for. Worth the humiliation.

Plus, if she told herself the biggest truth of it all, he was dashing. More than just dashing. He was the most fine-looking man she might have ever laid eyes upon. But she wasn't ready to admit the way his green eyes had her pulse fluttering like a small bird.

Harry reached down to run a finger over her jaw gently while he unplucked the second button from the front flap. "Keep your eyes on mine for a moment."

She tried to wet the dry desert of her throat as she steadied her eyes on him, which turned out to be quite the task when she could see at the limn of her vision his hand working something fleshy just in front of her. His cock was out, she knew that much, but she wanted so badly to take a quick glimpse.

"Mmm… Your eyes are pretty," he spoke, still moving his hand about. "How many cocks have you seen?"

Blinking her eyes softly she puffed out a shaky lungful of air. "I don't know. The men at the workhouse who use our tub just walk around nude."

"And they never touched you?" His finger felt sweet on her face and for a moment she thought he was a man she could find herself trusting, loving even. Perhaps she was too naive.

She shook her head. "I wouldn't let them."

"They tried?"

"A few."

He clenched his jaw and stretched his neck as he lifted his sight away from hers. She resisted the urge to peek at his crotch even though she could have gotten away with it right then as he wasn't looking at her.

When he returned his gaze down at her he stepped in closer, pushing her legs apart to stand between her feet. He glanced down at himself and moved his hand from her jaw. "Look at your king's cock."

Y/n swallowed hard and blinked as she shifted her stare downward until she saw the big thing in her face, swollen and thick. And long. His big palm was wrapped around the space of him that grew out from a thatch of dark hair.

Now, she'd seen cocks before. Soft ones, hard ones, weird and infected ones… The workmen didn't care who saw when it came to bathtime and some of them even tried to get her to participate if she were anywhere near them. But Harry's was… well, it looked fit for a king she supposed. Maybe all royals had clean, pretty pricks.

"Touch it."

She glanced up at him, struggling to even breathe. Not only was the corset pulled too tight around her ribs, but the king's vulgar words and his cock in her face were making her feel quite fettered and discombobulated. Her chest heaved so hard she was worried she was about to burst the stay lace that held the corset together.

She reached her fingers upward and focused on the very tip of him where there was a small slit that carved outward like it was draped in a blanket made of smooth flesh. The rest of him was a little more crude with veins that ran along the rigid flesh. When she touched the top of it with her fingertip she gasped and pulled her hand away. It was like a warm small naked creature that'd been warmed by the fire for a bit too long.

"He's not going to bite. He might spit at you, though." He laughed. "Touch it. No need to be virtuous with me. You'll have to get used to handling it anyway."

"It's the first I've touched. I… Where should I place my hand?" She was genuinely worried she'd do it wrong, and he was the king so she was cautious.

King Styles reached down to grab at her hand and he spat a big glob of slick from his mouth that pooled into her palm. She winced as he placed her hand on the long shaft of himself, pressing her fingers around his girth and guiding her upward to his smooth tip.

"What do you think? Not bad, right?"

When he let go of her hand she slowly continued smoothing his spit over his flesh and peered closely at the organ. It was a curious thing to touch a penis. She was surprised by how warm it was and the mechanics of how all that worked were still somewhat of a mystery to her. She understood that men used their pricks to stick babies into women and that it hurt and it was disgusting.

"It feels funny. S'really warm."

"Is it?" He smirked down at her as she examined him, her hand still sliding in very stunted strokes up and down. He quite enjoyed the way she looked at it in awe. Of course, the way she was handling him did him no good. That wasn't going to do anything for him but she'd learn soon enough what he liked. Whether she liked it or not.

"How does it feel for you?" Y/n knew enough to know that for men, it felt good and that while what she was doing wasn't sex, it should be favorable for him.

"You'll need teaching but your little hand will never feel quite as nice as your mouth or the warm treasure you're hiding between your legs."

She stopped and frowned at him. "I haven't ever—"

"Yes, we know. You haven't touched a man before. But we'll change all of that, won't we? Keep going with your hand and spit on it."

Sliding her palm over his tacky skin she spat over the spot just above her fist and smeared her saliva upward. "What will I tell my mum and dad? I should tell them where I am and—"

"Oh, girl." He patted her cheek condescendingly. "Let's not talk about mum and dad while you're working my knob. Tomorrow we'll fetch them."

She swallowed and tried to focus but everything was so overwhelming.

"Are we going to have intercourse?" She looked up at him with big pretty eyes.

"Of course we are. How else do you expect to find yourself with child?"

"I don't know… I'm scared to do it. I don't like the idea of it."

Harry pushed her hand away and tucked himself back into his front flap as he sighed. "You're no good at this. And if you don't want to learn how to be good for me then there's no need for you."

He turned to walk away, leaving Y/n sitting on his plush sofa she sat up straight, confused. "Should I… What shall I do?"

Harry pulled his jacket into place and rebuttoned it as he looked at her with an indifferent expression. "Go to your room or stay here. I don't care particularly either way. I was disappointed by you so I'm going to have to call in someone who can please me properly. Someone who can do the things you can't. If you want to stay and watch and learn then so be it."

Y/n stood up quickly and clasped her hands together in front of her hips. "Your majesty, please—"

"My King. You'll address me either as My King or My Lord. Yes?"

She nodded quickly, stepping closer to him. "Yes, my King. I only need a little more time to learn. I promise tomorrow I'll be better for you. I'll do whatever you need. Please don't replace me."

Harry lifted a brow, his still unreadable expression was worrying to Y/n but the way he scraped his eyes down her frame made every inch of her body burn. He wouldn't tell her but he was pleased with her already despite what he'd told her. She was desperate and quite pretty and that was all he required. She played into his rude affront exactly as he hoped and it had her worried he wasn't going to keep her. He had no plans to touch anyone else now that he had his mind made up. She'd do just fine once she learned to be more obedient and malleable.

"We shall see." He flicked a hand in the air and then gestured toward his door. "Off you go. You'll try again to be better tomorrow. You'll have one more chance to prove yourself to me."

She felt defeated. Walking slowly past him she turned to look back once more and watched him step out onto his balcony, the lace curtains blowing in the wind as he moved out of view. Pushing at the heavy wooden door she bit down on her lip to keep herself from crying. She didn't know if she was more upset with herself for not being bolder, or if she was angry at how the king had just treated her so poorly and insulted her. The situation was discouraging but she was determined. She'd dealt with worse, hadn't she?

Phoebe met her outside the doors and walked her back toward her room. Y/n wasn't sure how she was going to work up the courage to be enough for the king. She didn't want him to find another to take her place so she needed to do something. But what?

"Would you like anything, madam?" Phoebe asked.

"Are there books here in the castle? A library?" Perhaps she could read about pleasing a man if such a thing existed.

"Yes. A grand library. I can't read myself. Are you able to?"

Y/n nodded. "I can read, yes. I'd like to see it. Would you show me there?"

. .

next part >>

. .

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[avocado-writing]

Hi gorgeous could I request a Deadpool x reader x Wolverine smut where it's basically the car fight in the movie and the reader is in it? Reader can regenerate just like them but during the fighting things for a turn? Also female reader :)

sure - I’ve seen a few takes on this, so here’s my brief one too! (I am not an action writer. I am a smut writer. Be kind).

words: 2k

rating: explicit. minors dni. spit roast; oral (reader giving); p in v sex; violence as foreplay; excessive use of the word ‘fuck’; a LOT of dirty talk

If you could trade all your powers for the ability to make Wade Wilson shut the fuck up, it would be no contest. You wouldn’t be a mutant and Deadpool would be silent. 

Fucking hell, how many holes has his mouth dug you into? He’s a dear friend, of course - one you’ve definitely not been nursing a crush on, don’t look at that too deeply - but come on. The guy’s an idiot. You don’t know how he managed to get someone as ruggedly handsome and emotionally constipated as the Wolverine to come along with you (not that you’re complaining, he’s pretty good eye candy too. You’ve had a thing for the idea of him for probably about a decade and, though this particular variant is as rough as they come, he’s still hot) but there has to be a time limit to this success. This is only accentuated when Logan slams the brakes on the Odyssey, throwing you forward from your position in the captain’s seat. 

“Fuck!” you mutter. You definitely just broke your nose from the way you slammed into the cup holder. Turns out seatbelts are made to be worn, who knew? As you focus on twisting it back into place, feeling the cartilage heal and blood congeal, you’re vaguely aware of the argument happening up front. 

Logan’s finally cottoned on to Wade’s bullshit, and it giving a pretty savage monologue about how much of a fuckup he is. You frown. 

“Come on, dude, chill out, he was only trying to —”

“You can shut the fuck up too! You’re just as fucking bad as him! Jesus Christ he may be shoe-in for the world’s biggest asshole but you’re the one trailing around after him with the fucking puppy dog eyes,” Logan snarls. You see Wade frown from under the mask, letting Logan’s vitriol towards you sink in.  

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that.” His tone is serious. Deadly. Logan laughs. 

“Or fuckin’ what, mouth?”

He does not see the sucker punch Wade throws, and then his nose is bleeding. He lunges for your friend with his teeth bared. A wild animal.   

“Stop-!” you shout, darting forward to grab him. An elbow collides with your already sore nose and you yelp in pain. Wade has a knife in his hand immediately and is sinking it into the soft meat of Logan’s thigh, who hisses and extends his claws. One set goes through your calf, the other into Wade’s chest. 

“You fucking cunt!” you scream, grabbing your gun from your belt and unloading it into Logan’s centre mass. The force makes him retract his hand but doesn’t stop him from grabbing your hair and slamming your face into the console. 

“Shit!”

“I told you that you needed a haircut, pookie,” sighs Wade as he shoves baby knife into Logan’s jugular, having to reach over your body to do it. You shoot him in the kneecap. 

“Ow! What the fuck, I’m on your side!” he shrieks. 

“Don’t talk about my hair Wade! It’s a very! Sensitive! Subject!” You punctuate your sentences with fists to the Wolverine’s abdomen. He doesn’t even seem fazed. Instead, Logan lunges for your friend, pressing his groin into your face - and that makes it very obvious that he’s having a… reaction. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper, not loud enough for anyone to hear. 

Logan throws Wade out of the car, the sound of breaking glass a symphony behind you. Some of it decorates your hair. The two of you are left with a second alone; when you reach forward he goes to punch, but when you cup him through his suit he freezes. 

“What…?” Logan snarls, half taken aback, half turned on. 

“Sorry, old man, all the fighting working for you? Surprised you can even get it up any more…” you breathe. From the way his pupils dilate the answer is yes. Pain shoots from your chest as his claws stab you through the heart, but you grin and reach in to lick a line up the side of his face, burying your tongue in his beard. 

“Fuck… you…” he manages, growling when you bite the shell of his ear a little too hard. 

“We don’t have to fight, Lo.”

The door is ripped off Wade charges back in, throwing you into the back so that he can get at Logan. Clearly he mistook your flirting for fighting, when it was definitely the other way around. He unloads a clip into the other man’s stomach, but you grab his arm and redirect, sending a spray of bullets through the Odyssey’s ceiling and grazing your shoulder. 

“What are you—?” asks Wade, but then his face is in your hands and you’re kissing him over the mask. A pause as he registers what’s happening. Then he buries his sword through Logan’s chest to keep him pinned as he wrestles with the fabric, freeing his mouth so that he can kiss you back. 

“I don’t understand,” Wade breathes, taking you in, eyes wide and breaths heavy. 

“Don’t try to,” you argue, pulling his blade out of Logan and cleaning the blood off it with your tongue. Wade clearly isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but from the way his mouth drops open, he’s never been so horny for something so weird his whole life. 

You turn to Logan and kiss him with his own blood on your lips. He grunts beneath you, sinking a claw into your hip to keep you in place. It hurts, but also…

“Fuck. Sadistic old man,” you breathe, sinking your nails into his face.  

“Little fuckin’ freak,” he replies, biting your lip so hard it bleeds. 

“Holy shit, is this happening?” Wade asks. You manoeuvre so you’re aimed towards his lap, grabbing Logan’s arm and forcing it out of you. Your blood spills down your flank. 

“Stop commenting about it and fuck me, Wade,” you sigh.

He looks across the length of you to Logan who gives a curt nod. 

“Put your fuckin’ money where your mouth is, bub,” he hisses. This is all the permission Wade needs. You hear him tearing at the belt of his suit, positioning himself so that he can free his cock. There’s no time to strip. This is going to be rough and dirty and mostly clothed. 

You’ve never been so glad to dress in a two piece in your life. 

Your fingers work with Logan’s at the fly on his suit as Wade’s hands drag your pants down; he traces the cheeks of your ass, kneading your flesh and giving a running commentary of how fucking pleased he is. 

“Holy shit, baby, look at you. Thought honey badger was the kinky one here but you’re dripping wet,” you hiss as he slaps down on the meat of you, throwing a look over your shoulder at him. He shrugs as if to say, what did you expect me to do? Logan’s hand on your jaw quickly guides you back. 

“Eyes on me,” he growls, finally able to pull his cock from the confines of his suit. It bobs in your face, thick and heavy and delicious. The fingers still cupping your face press down, popping your mouth open for him. When Logan’s thumb presses inside you suck on it so hard that his eyes go wide; it tastes of blood and dirt and fuck you can feel yourself leaking down your thighs as Wade rubs his length against your folds. 

No more encouragement is needed as you open your mouth and swallow as much of Logan down as you can fit. He groans above you, hands burying into your hair. 

God, he’s big. Fucking threatens to dislocate your jaw. Oh well, you could click it back into place anyway and keep going. It’s the sort of thing you’re willing to compromise on if you can keep getting him to make those noises - filthy, laboured, desperate. Bucking his hips upwards into your mouth to make you take more of him. You moan around him and the rumble of your throat makes him hiss, pulling your hair so tight he threatens to rip it out. 

You don’t care. 

You wonder why Wade hasn’t pushed inside you yet, and your question is answered when you hear him spit. You’re aware of the feeling of saliva dripping down your cunt, thick and halfway to sordid. Wade rubs it into your clit, marking you as his, before finally sheathing himself with one thrust. 

Ohhhh fuck. Yeah. There it is. 

You moan around Logan’s dick as Wade stuffs you absolutely to the brim. You’ve never been so full. Your mouth is stoppered and so is your desperate pussy, and when Wade starts to piston himself inside you it only serves to force you forward into the older man’s lap. The hair at the base of his cock presses deliciously against your lips and he makes a choking sound that could be your name. His hand, still present, is less strict now. He holds you in something akin to a caress. 

“Fuckin’ look at you…” he breathes. You want to roll your eyes at him pretending this is anything other than gratification. You leave his cock with a wet pop. 

“You just want something warm and tight to cum in, old man,” you say, letting your hand take over for a second while your jaw rests. 

Wade laughs as he holds you even tighter, but there’s something tinging it. Bitterness?

“You should see the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice, pookie. Looks like our Wolvie is smitten.”

You glance up at Logan from where you’ve started kissing the length of his cock, and he looks… disgruntled. Oh shit. Wade’s hit a nerve there. 

“She’s clearly fuckin’ in love with you, you idiot,” he snarls. 

Wade’s hips stutter as he’s pistoning in and out of you, this unexpected revelation interrupting his pace. 

“You are?”

Aww man, this isn’t the time for this, but it looks like it’s happening anyway, huh?

“I like both of you,” you say, simply, because you do. “That’s why both of your cocks are inside me. Now put them to work.”

There’s a beat as they digest this information; then Wade starts fucking you twice as hard, lifting his leg up on the gearstick for leverage, and Logan pulls you mouth-first back into his cock. You make a pleased noise as they fill you, happy to let yourself go brainless for a moment as they use you however they want. There’s a warm feeling building in the pit of your stomach and you can feel an orgasm wanting to crescendo. 

Soon you hear Logan begin to breathe heavily, and you’re pretty sure he can’t be far. You make a show of looking up at him with your biggest, most fucked-out eyes. 

“Cum in my mouth,” you say, pulling back and sticking out your tongue as a target. He is powerless against that, spilling down your throat as you grin at the taste of him. 

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking filthy, so fucking hot, holy shit, holy shit,” Wade breathes, thrusts getting erratic. Suddenly Logan is lifting you up by the shoulders, pushing you into Wade’s embrace.  

“Make her cum or I will,” he says, and you’ve never heard an orgasm be used as a threat before but fuck it does it for you. Wade’s hand scrabbles to your clit and it only takes a few desperate circles to have you coming all over his cock as he fills your cunt with his spend. Logan manages a boneless grin at the show. 

You collapse between them, and they support you. For a moment there is nothing but the sound of breathing and the smell of sex.

For a moment. 

“Are we a polycule now?” asks Wade. You roll your eyes fondly at him and slap his arm where it’s slinked around you. 

“Shut up,” you and Logan say in unison. 

“Okiedokie, guess we can address that if there’s a part two.”

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[mywritersmind]

ACROSS THE HALL - LN4

part one

summary : Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell have rented a nice apartment in miami for the week before the grand prix! They were promised a beautiful view, nice rooms, and a smart TV! What they didn’t know was included is a smart mouthed girl with an affinity for cow slippers.

or : In which Lando Norris has a crush on his neighbor.

listen up : lando x american diva! dual pov + third pov randomly bc i couldn’t decide! will hopefully be a series but i need some serious motivation. requests are open!

heard through the grapevine that lando and max rented an apartment in miami for this week and idc if it’s not true bc i wrote this!

words : 4001

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando doesn’t know when it started, but once he heard the incessant banging on the front door, it didn't stop. “Christ- Max, turn down the music!” He yells at his best friend, hurrying out of the kitchen, his socks sliding on the hardwood floors for him to finally reach the door.

The second the door swings open, she starts. “Let me ask you something. Have you ever had a neighbor before?” Lando blinks, looking down at the surprisingly attractive girl. She places her hands on her hips and just before she opens her mouth again, Lando gets a horrible feeling that he’s done something wrong. “I don’t know where you came from but every other person who rented this apartment has been kind and quiet and fucking normal! Why are you blasting club music at one in the morning!? How many people are even in here? To be honest, I don’t really care. I'm a very curious person though and would like to know if you were raised by a woman; because I guarantee, if you were, she would be disappointed.”

“Um…” He hesitantly says, scared of making her go off again, “who are you?” She's taken back by his accent for a moment but stands up straighter after a temporary lapse of insanity.

“The person who’s sharing this floor with you and can’t fucking sleep because a teenage boy is up-” she looks past Lando, “Baking and blasting music four hours before she has to be up!” She finally finishes then, huffing out a breath and dropping her arms to her side.

Lando narrows his eyes, “Did you just call me a teenage boy? And insult my mother-”

“I didn’t insult your mother, I insulted you.”

His brow quirks at this and she has the horrible realization that he’s enjoying this. “Why do you have to be up at five?”

She’s a bit shocked at his question, wishing the handsome man would just apologize and move on. “Please, just turn down the music.” She sighs, crossing her arms. Lando takes her in full now, eyeing her white pajama set and getting particularly interested in her slippers that look like plush cows on her feet.

He leans against the door as she notices his intrigue, pulling her arms tighter over her chest, “You know, you could have just said that. Though I did enjoy your little crash out, got the whole small but mighty thing going for you, huh?”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares. She’s still wondering why he’s playing such horrible music at this time. He’s attractive, sure. No girl has come around the corner half naked yet. So what is this then? Some sort of bachelor pad for the week?

A voice breaks their silence, “Lan, I think I burnt the pavlova!” Lando cringes at this, neither he or Max are great bakers but a quick tik tok from P about this dessert gave them both false confidence.

“Pavlova…?” Y/n mutters to herself, her eyes finding the suspicious man who looks disappointed now. He turns his head, looking down the hall and making Y/n’s eyes dart to his jaw.

After an hour of building up the audacity to come knock on the door across from hers, she was too filled with rage to see who she was yelling at.

He is, for a lack of better words, incredibly hot. He’s in grey sweats and a tight white shirt that moves with his muscles. He’s got dark curls that form a sort of messy mullet and compliment his tanned skin far too much, especially in the fluorescent lighting.

Y/n shakes her head as he turns back to her, ruling out the bachelor party in her mind.

“We’ll turn down the music.” Lando gives in, almost forgetting why this gorgeous girl is still in his doorway, “Promise.”

She nods, barely noting that he didn’t apologize. “Thanks.” She turns and hurries back to her apartment, disappearing behind the dark red door in a split second.

Lando shuts the door slowly, still a bit confused and making his way back into the kitchen. “Max…”

“Lando! What was that!? I burnt the whole thing!” His childhood friend is scurrying around the apartment, opening every window as Lando’s eyes land on the charcoal treat. Max stops when he sees Lando frozen, his mind clearly elsewhere, “Hello!? Did someone open the door and kiss you?”

“I just met our neighbor.” He looks up at his friend who scoops the contents of the tray into the trash.

“And?”

“For someone so angry, she was very pretty.”

⋆༺

Despite the rough night Y/n had, her morning went much smoother. Delivering a package that had completely taken over her life for the past two months felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

She had spent so long on the painting that she feared the end result would be hindered by how often she looked at the large canvas. In a kind turn of events, the girl ended up loving it. And even luckier, the client did too.

She treated herself to an iced coffee the second she got back, finding herself at the small shop that is far out of her price range for a morning treat but too delicious to overlook.

Coffee in one hand, a bouquet of tulips in the other, she sighs and steps into the cool air of her elevator. Her quiet is disturbed by a voice, “Wait! Please!” Y/n stops the doors instinctively, looking up at a man with curly hair and round cheeks that are very red.

He lets out a huff of air before whipping his head around to the door, “I’m running from someone.” He practically jumps into the elevator, slamming his hand on the button Y/n had already pressed.

The doors shut just as he realizes they’re going to the same place. “Please tell me you’re our pretty neighbor and Lando didn’t invite a girl over on our lads holiday.”

Her brows move upward at the ‘pretty’ bit, understanding now that this must be the handsome man’s loud friend. “I’m your neighbor. Who are you running from?” Y/n says and before she knows it, she’s shaking the man’s hand.

“I’m Max! My idiot friend.” He says brightly, “Heard you were upset about last night- really sorry about that. Lan just flew from Bahrain and his sleep schedule is all fucked up and of course he made me stay up but I could only stay awake with the music-” The elevator dings and the doors open, revealing Lando standing with his arms crossed.

“How did you get in front of me!?” Max says, still out of breath and looking panicked at the sight of his friend.

“You fucking ditched me!” Lando grabs Max’s shoulder, hard.

“P called!”

“I had to avoid questions about ma-” He notices the girl with Max now, innocently sipping her drink and enjoying their animated conversation.

“Look who I found!” Max straightens, presenting Y/n as if he acquired her on the street. He goes to say her name but realizes that neither of them know it, “Oh. Um…”

“I'm Y/n.” She finally says, smiling at the two. “It’s nice to properly meet you.”

Lando looks down at this, “Right, uh… I’m Lando.”

“You didn’t introduce yourself last night!?” Max slaps Lando’s arm, “Your mum would be ashamed.”

At this, Y/n laughs out loud. Making Max look surprised and Lando groan inwardly. Of course he had to say that. “So… why were you running from him?”

They both look at the girl, Lando letting go of Max and sighing, “Long story.” She hums at this, still curious but understanding that he doesn’t want to share.

Max apparently does, “One where I almost died but sure-”

Lando rolls his eyes, “He did not almost die.”

“I did!” Max walks down the hall, “P saved me.”

Lando eyes the girl as Max walks in front of them, “His girlfriend.” he then raises his voice, “who, as much as I love her, cannot save you over the phone!”

Max flips Lando off and shoves the key into the locked door, “Sorry again about last night, Y/n. I’m more sorry that it was Lando who opened the door and not me. I really wish I saw you yell at him.”

Lando’s eyes go wide at this, Y/n now laughing at the thought of Lando explaining what she’d said. “I can recreate it if you’d like, he still hasn’t apologized anyway.” She turns fully to him as Max cracks up in the corner, his face now matching his partner in crime.

Lando feels bad now, scratching the back of his neck at the call out, “I’m very sorry.” He looks down at her, his eyes soft when they meet hers, “And I hope you got up at such an ungodly hour feeling refreshed.”

Y/n grins, “I did, thank you.”

“Maybe you should invest in some ear plugs though. Ever heard of Loop-”

Max groans, “Stop giving the woman more reasons to hate you!” Lando just grins at this, Y/n’s eyes narrowed at the look he gives as he walks away.

Lando nods at her slightly, Max gone already as he retreats down the hall, “Have a good day, pretty.” It takes her back, the sweet name and wink that flies her way. She doesn’t have the chance to respond, he’s back in the apartment too quick, the red door closing behind him.

⋆༺

lando

“Oh my god.” Max says the second the door clicks shut, “You flirted with her, didn’t you!”

I roll my eyes immediately, “I did not.”

“You did!” I sit on the couch, pulling out my phone which he snatches from me, “You’re insufferable.”

“What!?” I let out a laugh, trying to grab my phone back which he only holds up higher in the air.

“I’ve been trying to get you to go out with Vanessa for weeks-” I shake my head at the thought, “And you’ve all but fallen at our pretty neighbors knees!”

“Max.” I deadpan at his dramatics, “I apologized.”

“You said good day!” He sounds like he’s in a victorian novel, making me laugh and argue back.

“You told me to be nice!”

“You called her pretty.”

“So did you.” I stand, taking my phone back, “I’m telling P.”

“I called her pretty because you did. Something P would not be mad at because P isn’t just pretty, she’s beautiful.”

“Shut up with your lovey dovey shit.” I fill up a glass with water, “I’ll go out with Vanessa if it means that much.” He’s been pushing this girl on me for weeks and as much as I love women, a triple header is not a time for me to try something (or someone) new!

“No.” He huffs, “Maybe this is good. Maybe you should flirt your little player boy heart out.” Along with trying to set me up, he’s also been attempting to lighten my mood. Hence our little week getaway before Miami.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and choosing to ignore the part where he called me a player. “Can I go on the sim now?”

“You mean, Can your best friend Max Fewtrell beat you on the sim now? Yes!”

I watch him practically skip to the machine and when I go to join him, I have to stop myself from playing our music a little too loud.

⋆༺

you

There’s a knock on my door exactly one minute after I scream. I open it and am not surprised when I'm met with the face of my new neighbor. “Are you okay?” Lando says quickly, he looks more distressed than I am.

“Yeah!” I push my hair out of my face, regretting it immediately when I feel the catch of paint on my skin, “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer me. “We heard you scream- something fell?”

I nod, crossing my legs and dreading turning around because of the absolute mess I've made, “I put up a bookshelf last week… clearly not well.”

He smiles a bit at this, something ridiculously small and crazy attractive. I hear Max from the other side, swearing like a sailor as Lando groans, “Right, looks like we’ll be ordering in tonight.”

“Oh shit thanks for reminding me!” I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket and checking the time. “What’re you guys getting?”

“Uh I don’t know actually… You’re the local, what’s best?” He leans against my door frame so effortlessly that it makes me bite my lip.

“Uhm well I’m getting Thai from a place down the street, it’s insanely good!” I grab my keys from my catch all and shut the door behind me.

He looks at me up and down, “You’re going right now? Like that?”

I scoff, “Are you insulting my choice of shoe wear?”

He just laughs, shaking his head. He turns back to his door and just when I think I'm going to be alone again, he yells, “I’m going with Y/n to get food! Text me what you want.” I can hear Max’s quick protest before Lando shuts the door and his attention is back fully on me. He pauses for a second, his phone sliding into the back pocket of his jeans, “That’s okay… right?”

I just nod and get into the elevator that feels oddly cramped with him by my side. He’s staring at my feet still. When he notices that I'm staring at him, his face splits into a grin. “Why cows?”

I shrug, “I liked the flowers.”

“Why is there paint all over them?” I sigh at his words, the one part of my life I simply can’t hide because it’s on everything I own.

“I’m an artist.”

“You have paint on your face too.” He motions to his forehead. I sigh, already forgetting the fact and wiping mine with my sleeve. “Do you paint cows?” I step out of the elevator first and lead the way, letting him talk as he follows, “Or flowers?” His hands are in his pockets, the night air oddly cold tonight. “You don’t have a boyfriend.”

At this, I stop. Turning to face him and making his shoes skid against the ground.

“I mean- you put up bookshelves by yourself. Unless your boyfriend is just a dud finance guy. Sorry that was rude.” He goes back and forth with himself, barely keeping eye contact and making me laugh.

I pull my lips together, “No. It was funny.”

He meets my eyes, something that, until now, I couldn’t decipher the color of. “So you do have a boyfriend then?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” At this, he only smiles. He really is cute.

I keep walking. I think he’s following me but when I turn around to check, there’s two guys talking to him.

I shake my head and continue to the shop.

⋆༺

lando

“Thank you so much!” one of the guys says to me as they walk away. “Good luck next weekend!”

“No problem!” I say, hurrying away and almost missing the shop that Y/n is in. I walk up next to her like nothing happened, “So, what should I get?”

We end up sitting at a little table in the back, Y/n sips her diet coke and watches a family or five near us. “You shouldn’t have paid.”

I ignore this, “Did you grow up in miami?” I ask, to which she hesitates before shaking her head.

“Moved here for college and just never left.” She has both of her hands on her soda, tapping a finger against the lid. “Where did you grow up?”

I tell her. I tell her as little as possible without trying to make myself sound like a serial killer. I don’t really want her to know anything about me. Is that bad when I want to know everything about her?

“You’re an artist.” I bring the straw of my water to my lips, “You give that energy.”

She laughs out loud at this. “How so?”

“Well besides the fact that you have paint everywhere, you’re very…” I can’t really explain it, and I'm doing a horrible job by moving my hands in the air, “Artsy?”

She nods but I can tell she wants to laugh again but she leans back in her chair and I swear, she checks me out. “You’re an athlete.” She says, catching me off guard and making me raise a brow.

The corner of my lips tug upward, “Am I just that jacked or…?”

She rolls her eyes at the same time the worker hands us our food. There’s three bags that she simply glances at. “I don’t have a boyfriend but while I have a man at my disposal… I might as well use you.” And then she shrugs and walks out.

I’ve never grabbed something so fast.

“Hey so- our food is all mixed in the bags.” I mention when we get into the elevator.

“Because you had to pay for mine.” She bites back.

“So we don’t know what is whose, so why don’t you just come over and have dinner with us?” She just stares at me. “Max is driving me crazy already and I promise we’re not crazy or criminals.”

She hums, “Yeah, okay.”

“Really?” I say a bit too enthusiastically, I hadn’t expected her to actually say yes but it’s a very pleasant surprise.

“Sure. I mean, if I get murdered at least I'll be well fed.” she walks out of the elevator with her hair swinging behind her like it’s nothing.

“At this point, you’re more likely to kill us.” I unlock the door and let her in.

We all end up around the kitchen table, it’s absolutely covered in different plates that are being picked at by each of us. Turns out, Y/n fits in great. She's ridiculously funny and keeps saying shit about Max that flies right over his head.

We tell her about how we grew up, “I still can’t get rid of him.” I say as Max flips me off, “Somehow I've just collected his family and girlfriend too.”

“I want to meet this girlfriend.” Y/n says sweetly before raising a sudden brow at Max, “You sure she’s real?”

Max scoffs and shows her his phone background, “Very much so!”

“Max!” She grabs the phone, dropping her fork into her noodles, “She’s gorgeous! I’m impressed.” He looks all proud and nods as he takes his phone back. Y/n looks at me now, “So what’s wrong with you then?”

I look around, confused on how this subject got turned on me, “Nothing!”

Her eyes narrow, turning to Max and pointing at me, “What’s wrong with him?”

“His lifestyle doesn’t… allow him to date.” Max has a shit eating grin on his face, something I'll be sure to remind him of later when he’s bragging on the sim.

“That’s a lie!” I argue, “I get women!”

Max laughs, throwing his head back, “Oh buddy, we know.” He says it as if I've been with tons over the past months. I want to yell that I haven’t even had sex since february but I think that’ll make things worse and more embarrassing for me. “Y/n, he’s not emotionally available.”

She grins, holding her cup in her hand still. She moves it as she talks, all I can hear is ice. “You sound like a male escort.”

I'm growing more horrified by the second, “I am not a male escort! I just… I don't want to date right now. Is that so bad?”

“No but it makes me think you’re either a slut or just got your heart broken.” Okay so Y/n is just as straightforward as she was last night.

My jaw drops, “What’s your excuse then?”

She breaks eye contact then, “I wouldn’t say heartbroken… more like, I did the breaking.” She shrugs, taking a bite of a spring roll.

Max whistles, “Tell us everything then.”

“There’s not much to tell. I broke up with him and he can’t seem to grasp that fact…” She stabs at her plate, “I sorta wish he would understand though because it’s getting really annoying. He keeps making burner accounts to stalk my instagram.”

Max claps his hands together, “Easy fix! Post a guy.”

She shakes her head, “No way… then everyone else would see it too. Plus, me telling him I don’t love him should be enough.”

I practically choke on my food, laughing so hard as Max starts clapping again, “Y/n, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.” He stands, moving into the kitchen with his cup.

“Finance bro?” I ask, her nose scrunching at the thought.

“Worse… indie artist.” I laugh even harder at this, “We met in a sculpture class.”

“Oh no…” I shake my head.

She puts her hands on her cheeks, “He was cute!”

“Lemme see, then.” She begrudgingly pulls up a photo of him, of them. They’re dressed up and the first thing I notice is that her hair is a different color. I then remember why I'm looking at this and zero in on him. “Nope. Ugly.”

She laughs and puts her phone away, “Ugh! Enough about him. I’ll have nightmares.”

“After seeing that, so will I.” I shiver, going back to my food and debating saying something in my head. “Can I ask you something?”

She nods, “Sure.”

“You didn’t seem that shocked.” I say hesitantly, “When those guys stopped me outside.”

She shrugs, “Only mildly.”

“You know why, then?” I twirl my fork in my hand, hating this conversation already.

“I know you.” She blinks, making my stomach literally drop.

I try to hide my absolute disappointment, knowing I should know better than letting a random girl into my space- “You do?” Max walks back in, sitting down.

“Sort of. I googled you.” Oh.

“Oh?” Max joins in.

“Both of you.” She explains, “I was curious and still had to make sure you weren’t actually serial killers… Now I just know you’re actually best friends and you’re a- streamer?” She looks at Max, then me, “You too? F1 a side gig or…?”

I smile, actually smile at her. I don’t think I've ever been so relieved in my life. “I can’t believe you didn’t know me.”

“Okay, cocky!” Max says before I flick a piece of rice at him.

“I just mean- How? You live so close to the grand prix! There’s ads everywhere.”

“And I hate sports. I’m am only interested if it’s creative usually and whatever the fuck you guys wear- and drive, are not.”

I frown, “My car was shiny once.”

“Shiny and orange.” she points out, “Although you guys are pretty hot.” She says it like it’s nothing so I have to pretend my heart's still beating at a normal pace. “Last year I actually rented out my apartment for the week… made a shit ton of money, so thank you.”

Y/n ends up leaving right before Max and I start watching some movie she recommended, “What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask, in what’s becoming my favorite doorway ever.

“Sitting in my studio.” She sighs, “Gotta finish painting something. How about you guys?”

“Beach day!” Max yells, making popcorn in the kitchen.

“Beach, gym, streaming… knock on our door and I'll drop everything to pretend to be your boyfriend, though.” I add on as she looks down, smiling. “Anything else we have to do? I mean, we are going to be here for four more days but still.”

She thinks for a moment, twirling her hair around her finger like a princess. “Before you leave you have to go to brickell at night. I’m not sure if two guys will enjoy it as much as me but, check it out.”

“Y/n!” Max pokes his head out the door, “What is ‘how to lose a guy in ten days’ about?” She smiles and walks backwards into the hall.

“That’s the point of a movie, Max. You get to find out.”

[roanniom]

i can’t stop thinking about virgin! eddie being so embarrassed about coming after like 3 seconds and he keeps apologizing and says he wants to make up for it😩😩

Okay for You

Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV / unprotected sex, uncertainty but it resolves

“Jesus fucking Christ, holy mother of fucking god,” he’s stuttering as you lower yourself down on him. His fingertips dig into the meat of your hips so hard you can most certainly count on bruises tomorrow. He’s a lot to take but it feels good as you sink down, giving him a wincing grin.

“Didn’t know the town satan worshiper was so religious,” you tease, lightly sliding the tip of your index finger up and down the naked expanse of his chest in the shape of a cross. “Do you wanna be absolved of sin or do you wanna cum?

“Fuck, you can’t just–,” Eddie bucks up into you harshly and you laugh. Your laugh gets brighter when you notice the furrow in his brow and the desperation in his eyes.

“Choose sin, Eddie. I know you wanna cum.”

“Quit talking about cumming, I’m gonna fucking bust,” he whines out. You roll your hips, once, twice.

“Cum on the dark side, Eddie. We’ve got pussy.”

You’re straight up giggling at your own absurdity and at how far gone he is in under a minutes. His eyes roll back in his head and his mouth drops open in a heady groan, hips stuttering upwards as he spills deep inside you. You ground your hands on his shoulders and bear down on him so that he feels fully encased and snug through his orgasm.

Eddie, it turns out, is fucking beautiful when he cums. Pink tinges the high points of his cheeks, getting darker around his ears and flushing crimson down his neck to his chest. His wet lips are open as he gasps down air, eyelids shut tight against the intensity of his release.

It takes him a minute, but the second he realizes what’s happened, his hands are off your thighs and covering his face in mortification.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“That good, handsome?” you ask smugly, not quite noticing the tonal shift yet.

“No its…well yeah but I didn’t…that was too…fuck I’m so sorry.” When he finishes rambling he sits up and pulls his hands from his face, revealing an almost teary eyed expression. Your eyebrows shoot up in response.

“Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” you ask, suddenly a lot softer, your hand curling around his forearm to pull him so he stops biting at a nail.

“I just blew my load in 0.5 seconds like a fucking virgin.”

You stare at him for a second before breaking out into hysterical giggles. He looks affronted at first, but as you keep laugh the corner of his mouth quirks a little.

“What?”

“Eddie, you are a virgin,” you clarify, though you immediately amend it. “Were a virgin. I kinda expected it, to be honest.”

Eddie huffs a laugh but sits a bit straighter. He’s still inside you, growing soft, but you like the closeness so you don’t get up just get.

“What? You didn’t think I’d be a mind blowing lover?” he asks and your glad he’s back to making jokes. You shrug.

“You’ve got a big dick, so you’re not that far off to begin with. If we work on your stamina you could be blowing my back out in no time.”

You watch him short circuit as he stares at you and you definitely don’t miss the way his dick twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?” he asks. It’s hesitant. You lean forward and give him a kiss that answers all his questions - bruising and wet and probing and dirty - and his lips chase yours when you pull away.

“You’ll be Fabio in no time,” you promise with a cheeky smile.

“I wanna make you cum,” Eddie replies earnestly. His hands are back on your thighs, smoothing up and down. “I’m so fucking pissed I didn’t make you cum. ‘M sorry.”

“Eddie, don’t be sorry,” you reassure him. You go to kiss him again and he melts, mewling desperately and leaning into the affection. It turns you on so much that this scary, beautiful man is putty beneath you. So much so that you feel yourself growing needy and snake a hand down between you to start playing with your clit.

The friction causes you to squeeze around his rapidly re-hardening cock. He jolts at the feeling.

“What’re you…?” he breaks away to ask you, eyes trailing down to your ministrations. “Oh fuck are you…are you touching yourself?”

“Mhm. You’re making me feel good, Eds. I kinda have to,” you confirm with a chuckle. He watches you for a moment before he slides his hand down your abdomen tentatively.

“Can…can I do it?”

You’re panting a bit at this point. Worked up again from the lack of satisfaction the first time around.

“You wanna?” you ask, kind of hoping he’ll say no so you can get yourself off before he cums prematurely again. You can feel his hips beginning to cant lightly, teasing you with the pressure.

“Please,” he practically whispers and you can deny him so you pull you hand away. What you aren’t expecting is for him to grab it and wrap his lips around your wet fingers. Your eyes blow wide and your pussy clenches around his cock, making him groan around his mouthful.

“Eddie…” you say quietly. He blinks at you before pulling your fingers from his mouth with a pop and reaching down to press his own circles into your clit.

It’s juuuuust off. Another millimeter and you’ll feel great. You roll your hips to try and get him where you need him, but unfortunately the slide of his cock inside of you distracts him, making him freeze up and moan. So you take matters into your own hands, literally, grabbing his wrist and pulling at him so that he’s on the right spot.

“Yeah? Right there?”

He’s seeking genuine reassurance, but your brain hears the questions as dirty talk, making you roll your hips again.

“Fuck. Yeah. Yeah right there.”

You begin grinding on him in earnest while he continues to play with you. After a few moments you grab his free hand to bring it from your hip to grope your breast. His eyes practically bug out of his head.

“Oh wow,” Eddie says.

You want to laugh at how easy he is. But it’s starting to feel really good, and you’re so pent up at this point you decide just to chase it.

“Say something,” you breathe out. Eddie looks confused.

“Like…like what?”

“Just - fuck. I don’t know. Talk dirty.” You’re doing your best not to ride him fully, because you can see the way all of his muscles are starting to tense. You hope that by giving him a task it’ll distract him long enough so you can cum.

“Uh you’re…you’re just like…so fucking beautiful—,”

“Eds,” you let out a frustrated chuckle. “That’s not dirty talk—.”

“So f-fucking beautiful on my cock,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “Want you to cum. You’re so wet, bet you need it so bad.”

Well shit.

Recently de-virgin-ed Eddie had found your weakness and it’s condescension. Your pussy squeezes him and you let out a moan that has him grinning through a hiss.

“You need it, huh? Just desperate to cum, huh baby?”

Baby is a new pet name and you love it. You nod and his finger picks up it’s pace on your clit, his other hand following your earlier lead by playing with and tugging at your nipples.

“Need it, Eds.”

“Oh I need it, too, baby. Shoulda happened the first time, but I need you to feel good now, ok?” There’s a sincerity behind the lightest layer of teasing. He can’t really tease fully. Not when he’s on the brink of cumming again as it is.

But the laser focused eye contact he’s locked you in is doing plenty for you.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” Eddie repeats in a hum. His free hand goes to the back of your neck and pulls you down to him so he can grace you with a wet, sucking kiss. He bites your plush lower lip and lets his free hand tighten in your hair.

“Oh god, Eddie,” you whimper against his lips.

“Fuuuuck, I’ve been waiting to hear you like this,” Eddie groans.

You’re basically just cock warming him at this point with a little humping mixed in. But you’re really impatient at this point, so the constant roll of your hips is taking you further than it usually would.

Eddie’s free hand slides from your hair down your back to grab a a handful of your ass. He guides your gyrating hips up and down your cock just that much more and now you’re panting.

“Eddie,” you whine. “I’m close.”

“Holy shit. Seriously?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows shooting up. Clearly shocked.

“Yeah, handsome. You’re fucking me so good.”

You both know it’s an exaggeration. But you’re impatient to cum at this point and eager to praise the beautiful man beneath you. He preens and licks his lips.

“Yeah? Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Wanna make you feel so good. Please, just let me baby. Wanna…oh fuck…please.” He’s rambling at this point and you know he’s close. You bring your hands to either side of his face, framing his jaw.

“Look at me, handsome,” you breathe. You’re so close at this point. His hazy eyes find yours.

“Baby…” he says, eyelids fluttering. He looks just so absolutely destroyed - that’s what ultimately gets you. That this man is losing his damn mind over you but holding out as long as he can so you feel pleasure.

That pleasure washes over you in that moment, along with a cry of Eddie’s name. You collapse over him and cling to him as your pussy spasms around his aching cock. It blows Eddie’s ever loving mind to feel your body reacting to him so strongly. His last bit of resolve snaps like a fucking twig and suddenly he’s clutching you to him and fucking up into you.

“Baby-oh fuck. Baby, yes. God.” He’s gasping and panting and then his hips are stuttering. He goes still, cumming inside you for the second time tonight.

You’re so full. Two loads of cum and his already oversized cock. But even better is how he holds you. Big arms surround you and keep you grounded against his body, even as twitching aftershocks rock him.

It’s a few moments before you’re properly able to do anything other than relish in the feeling of his overwhelming presence. It’s the persistent ache in your muscles that spurs you into action.

“Eddie…I’ve gotta move…”

“Oh fuck, sorry!” He’s quick to release you, letting you peel yourself from his sweaty skin and gingerly climb off of him. Before you can move any further he jumps up. “Wait let me just…”

He’s back in a moment with a wash cloth - warm, you notice in the back of your hazy mind. He lightly cleans you up, missing the heart eyes you direct his way from the sheer gentleness of his movements.

Eddie is so caring. So sweet and bumbling and eager and awkward and you can’t help but beam back at him when he sends a smile your way. He settles back on the bed with you hesitantly.

“Was that…was that okay for you?” he asks.

“I should be asking you that,” you counter, slapping at his arm. He’s having none of it, though, instead grabbing you and pulling you into his arms.

“Well I fucking came twice so I don’t think it’s really a question, baby.”

“Hmmm I like when you call me baby,” you coo. You’re a boneless mass of gooey feelings now, encased in Eddie’s arms. The skin around his eyes crinkles and his dimples deepen.

“Oh yeah? You like being my baby?” You don’t miss the way his flush gets deeper but you relish in the newfound confidence in his voice.

“I love being your baby, Eds.”

~*~

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Thank you for reading! Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think

[leashybebes]

i don't have a prompt to give you but like. thank you for all of your writing today, it really made me feel some kind of fantastic way. (did you have an idea for a prompt that hasn't been sent in? consider me asking for that.)

you are so kind and i am so late with this. HOWEVER. have 1.7k of...something.

5 times tommy kisses someone on the cheek, one time someone kisses him on the cheek

1.

His date to junior prom is called Michelle. She's his lab partner in chem class, and she has pretty brown hair, tumbling in curls to her shoulders. Tommy picks her up from her house, because Michelle's really sweet and there's no way he wants her anywhere near his asshole dad.

His friends are all talking in the run up about how they're gonna get laid, and Tommy jokes along because, well. It's not like he doesn't wanna have sex. Of course he does. Michelle's great.

So he picks her up from her house and he hands her a corsage and her mom takes photos and her dad gives him a hard glare that rolls easily off the shoulders of someone who's lived in Thomas Kinard's house all his life and Tommy's hands are sweating and his suit is uncomfortable and her dress is pretty and he doesn't know how to dance and he's so fucking relieved that someone spiked the punch and at the end of the night he walks her home and kisses her on the cheek.

He kisses her on the cheek and she does the same to him, leaving a peachy-orange smear of lipstick and Tommy walks around the neighbourhood until it's late enough that he doesn't think his dad will be awake to bust his balls for being home early, and he doesn't try to figure out whether the feeling rolling in his gut is relief or disappointment. 

2.

His mom won't look at him in the aftermath. It's the first time his dad's ever been on his side in an argument. Well, kinda. If shut up, Sarah, it'll make a man out of him and Christ knows I haven't been able to can really be called being on Tommy's side. His dad had signed the paperwork when his mom had refused, so they all knew this was coming, but his mom's been tearful and furious and a little drunk ever since. 

Tommy's seventeen and he leaves for basic in the morning and his mom still won't look at him.

"Mom, c'mon," he says, trying one last time. "I'll be fine."

"You don't know that," she says, and he hates and regrets how scared she sounds, but he just - he can't stay here.

"I'll write you," he promises. She still doesn't look at him, so he bends down and kisses her cheek. Her skin still smells of the same Nivea Creme it has his whole life, the stuff that comes in the little blue tin.

"I love you, mom."

He lets the door close quietly behind him, doesn't make the trip down to the den to say anything to his dad. Nothing left to say there.

3.

The first man Tommy fucks more than once is called James. They meet in a bar, Tommy blows him in the bathroom, and James suggests they get a motel. They do, and he proceeds to make Tommy see god for the rest of the night and into the early morning hours. They talk after - James works in finance (boring, he says, but I'm not complaining about the money. Tell me more about firefighting, though), he's lived in California his whole life. He tells Tommy how cute he is, how much he'd like to see him again.

He's maybe ten years older than Tommy and so handsome it makes him ache. Tommy's so caught up in it that he doesn't think twice about the fact that they either go to Tommy's little shithole apartment, or James says something about treating him and whisks Tommy away to a fancy hotel in San Francisco or Malibu or even Portland once, for a three night stay where they barely left the bed.

He doesn't think about it until he sees James at the grocery store one day and approaches with a smile, with his heart beating harder in his chest the way it always does when he sees that handsome profile, that scattering of salt through the thick pepper of his hair.

"Hey," he says, and in the aftermath, he can hear the excitement in his voice, the ridiculous way it dips and rises on a single syllable.

James's eyes widen for a split second and he says, "Oh, hey. Tommy, right?" and Tommy has a split second to be confused before he registers the woman at James's side, the way James is putting an arm around her waist, the way he's saying, "Honey, this is Tommy, we go to the same gym. Tommy, this is my wife Suzanne."

Tommy feels sick. He feels like he's going to pass out. He feels like he isn't real. James's eyes are wide and terrified, and Tommy can't believe - 

He smiles and shakes her hand, ducks his head to kiss the cheek she offers him (whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck). 

"It's lovely to meet you," he says, like he isn't in the middle of his own personal apocalypse, like fire isn't raining down on him from the sky.

Stupid, he thinks as he walks away from them, abandons his basket, has a panic attack in his truck. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He doesn't hear from James again.

4.

Tommy's been dating Jackson for three months. They haven't really defined it yet, haven't had the are we exclusive talk, because Jackson's a little younger and he hasn't been out for long. Not that Tommy has, either, but he's trying to be cool. And anyway, it's not often that Tommy gets to feel more experienced than the people he's dating, more knowledgeable, more settled, more queer.

The sex is crazy good, and Jackson's cool with Tommy's weird schedule - they met on a call, after all, so he knew right from the start - and more than anything, it's fun. They don't just fuck, which has been most of Tommy's relationships since James, and that's not - it's not a complaint. Tommy's pretty settled in his own company. But Jackson likes art, and karaoke, and baseball and hiking, so they date. They're dating. Tommy likes it a lot.

And then.

"I think I met someone," Jackson says, and his eyes are sparkling, his smile bringing out a dimple Tommy doesn't think he's ever seen before. Tommy can't even be mad. "I think he's really special," Jackson says, as though that needed saying, with the look on his face.

"I'm happy for you," Tommy says, and he is. He is. He's just also a little…wistful. Not all the way to sad, but…yeah. Wistful. A sense of oh, that could have been something.

They part outside the coffee shop which, on reflection, should have been a sign. They've never just met for coffee before.

"Hey," Tommy says, and gives Jackson a hug, kisses him on his soft cheek. "Don't be a stranger, okay? Good luck with your guy."

"You're so cool, Tommy," he says, and Tommy smiles like that's enough.

5.

Tommy was not expecting Evan Buckley.

Wasn't expecting him to capture so much of Tommy's attention as he's flying through the tail end of a literal hurricane. Wasn't expecting to spend so many hours dissecting that tour and their texts running up to it. (Was that flirting? Was that? Okay, but that had to be, right?) Wasn't expecting to kiss him in his bougie-ass kitchen and watch a softly stunned expression spread over his gorgeous face.

Wasn't expecting that mortifying first date to leave him feeling anything other than like he'd dodged a bullet. Wasn't expecting Evan to reach out again and look at him in the sunshine with so much hope on his face that it makes Tommy feel like he's turned completely transparent and Evan's looking right into the mess at the heart of him. He certainly wasn't expecting an invite to a wedding, of all things. And he definitely wasn't expecting Evan to kiss him - try to fucking inhale him - in the hospital lobby in front of god and everybody and then drag him into the wedding like he's the guest of honor or something.

He also wasn't expecting the enthusiasm, the abandon, the sheer confidence with which Evan took him home that night and took him to bed and took him apart. 

Oh god, Tommy thinks, once Evan's fallen asleep and Tommy's wide awake in the city lights that aren't muted at all by the decor appropriate but definitely not black out blinds on Evan's huge windows. This one's gonna hurt.

He kisses Evan's cheek, warm with sleep, rough with stubble. Evan turns towards Tommy in his sleep, one hand reaching out, a soft murmur leaving his parted lips.

Yeah. This one's gonna hurt real bad.

+1. 

Another coffee shop. Another hopeful smile. Another time that Tommy's heart turns over in his chest at the sight of Evan Buckley.

But everything is different now. Evan is different now. He's marked by grief, and he's more serious than Tommy's seen him, and he's so - he's so calm as he lays it out:

"Listen. I haven't stopped thinking about you. Through all - all this. Through everything before. I miss you. I really miss you, Tommy. I miss the way you see me. The way you know me. The way you like me. I miss your shitty sense of humor and your bitchy eyebrows and how kind you are. Tommy. God, Tommy, life is so short. I want to try again. What do you want?"

Tommy feels like the world is tilting under his chair, like the coffee is going to come back up, like he's on fire.

"That," he makes himself say through numb lips. "I want that. Evan, I want - "

"Okay," Evan says, and smiles, small and real. He leans across the table, big hand tilting Tommy's head, soft lips pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to the angle of his cheekbone. "Okay."

Tommy closes his eyes, tries to imprint every little part of his moment into his memory. Wants to go to his grave remembering exactly how that kiss felt, the smell of Evan's aftershave, the touch of his fingertips, the warmth of the sun.

Evan sits back in his chair and Tommy thinks be brave. Be brave for him. Be brave.

"Hey," he says, and fiddles with his cup. "I'm pretty sure you're the love of my life."

Evan smiles and catches hold of Tommy's hand, brings it to his lips and kisses it. "Well. That works out nicely."

[literary-dolly]

boxer!jason x fem!reader

“Oh Christ, seriously? That’s what we’re working with?”

“Jay! Stop! I’m actually trying!”

“Trying to break your hand maybe, sweetheart.”

The gym had become somewhat of a second home in yours and Jason’s relationship. It was his pride and joy, besides yourself, of course. The years worth of championship prize money had done nothing but sit in various bank accounts until Jason had brought the cheap, shitty run down old warehouse - nothing but a vision and the grim determination to give back to the streets that had raised him.

And that he had done. The place had become a sprawling hub tucked away in the corner of Crime Alley. A source of pride for the locals. Between running self-defense classes, training the stray juveniles that had been pushed in his direction, and maintaining his own rigorous regime, the majority of your fiancé’s time was consumed by the four walls that surrounded you. He’d hired a few oddballs to help him run the place, paid them under the table to keep them out of trouble - but it did little the ease the stress that the work often hung on his shoulders.

“Y’need to push through as you’re punching,” Jason’s large frame swallows your own, slotting in behind you to face the punching bag. He reaches out to cradle your fist in his palm, using his other hand to guide your hips in the correct movement, “Can’t just wave your hand about and expect it to hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt people, Jay,” you huff out, blowing a stray piece of hair out of your face. The two of you repeat the motion a few times before he steps back to observe, resting his thumb on his lip with the calculated stare you would expect of a champion.

“Not teaching y’to hurt people,” Jason muses, chuckling at your grimace as he shoots a foot out to knock your stance a little wider, “teaching you to defend yourself.”

You attempt the punch again, a small smile curving on your lips as it hits a little harder than before, “Who’s gonna try and hurt me when I’ve got you?”

“Somebody very fucking stupid,” he pulls your hand (and as a result, you) towards him, pressing chaste kisses to your knuckles one-by-one.

The two of you stay locked in an embrace for a few minutes, the yellowish bulbs above flickering off every so often and leaving the gym washed in nothing other than the pale moonlight. It’s difficult not to admire Jason, his shock of white hair painted to his forehead with sweat, the scars that decorate his nose, cheeks, jaw, casting small shadows dancing over his skin. He’s huge, muscle stacked upon muscle, a web of sinew that moves with all the languid precision of a panther. But he’s so gentle, so attuned to his own strength; when he holds you, it’s with more tenderness than you had thought another human being capable of.

“Yuck, love birds,” Roy’s voice rings out, the jangling of keys rattling in the empty room, “Get a room.”

“This is technically my room, you know?” Jason bites out with a grin, turning to face his friend.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever hotshot. Didn’t realise you were still here. Was about to lock up.”

“We’re comin’ now,” Jason puffs out a soft sigh, groaning when he reaches down to sling his gym bag over his shoulder. His other arm comes to wrap around you, tugging you into his side as you begin your leisurely stroll to the door. Roy offers you a smile and a teasing bow as you pass him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Jay?” You whisper into the hollow of his ear as Roy fiddles with the lock, the nighttime air nipping at your skin.

“Go on.”

“You stink.” You can’t contain your laughter as his face pans to your own, his mouth drawn into a tight line. You know him better though, you know that he’s fighting down a smile.

“Thanks, princess, y’sure know how to charm a guy.”

“Anytime, handsome.”

“God, seriously, have you two heard of inside voices? Like, it’s actually just gross at this point. No respect for others-”

Boxer!Jason you have my heart, my soul, and my whole pussy. Thank you and goodnight. (I did not proofread this but it was burning behind my eyes and I had to release it. I’ll check it for mistakes at some point)

If you liked it, well, like it - a reblog is always appreciated. If you don’t like it, leave me alone.

[roosterforme]

Mr. Right Now Part 2 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: As soon as you decide that Jake is the one you want for your first time, he's very clear that you'll be playing by his rules. You're ready to get this over with and get on with your life, but he's determined to make you admit that you're allowed to feel good. And maybe you want to enjoy this with him.

Warnings: adult language, mentions of sex and virginity, sexual touching, 18+

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

"Jake," you whispered as his soft hair glided through your fingers. You liked his name. He was handsome. He was older. His lips tasted delicious. He had green eyes.

Why had you been so focused on Rooster? Oh, right. Because your roommate, Kylie, said he was good after she slept with him. She told you all about the Navy bar and the different guys with call signs, and you made it a point to remember that Rooster was the one who she said was the gentlest. 

You froze. Jake had his hands around your waist, his hips pressing his semi hard length against you. Those pretty green eyes were locked onto yours, and you knew it would be a long shot to get him to agree, even now. But something else was bothering you about this whole scenario. You suddenly wondered if Kylie and Jake ever had sex.

For some reason, that idea alone was enough to piss you off. Going blindly after Rooster would have been no big deal, but Jake seemed to actually give a shit about you. He just took the time to make sure you were really twenty, and he kept questioning you as to why you were here in the first place. In this bar where you apparently stuck out like a sore thumb.

But you wanted Jake specifically for your first time, whether he had already fucked Kylie or not. You leaned in and kissed him again, and he seemed more than willing now. You hoped your little skirt and tight shirt weren't going to fail you after you made it this far. He just needed to take care of this one, basic thing for you, and you'd be on your way. Then you could go out with Cooper who you were actually so ready to date, and you wouldn't completely embarrass yourself with him.

You let yourself touch Jake's hair again as you asked, "What's your call sign?"

His hand felt huge against your butt, and you went willingly when he pulled you even closer. "Hangman," he said in that cute Texan drawl. That didn't sound familiar at all, and Kylie was pretty proud of all the call signs she'd managed to collect. Maybe she hadn't gotten to him yet. Or maybe she wasn't his type. That thought alone made you smile even more as he continued to touch you.

"Okay, Hangman," you whispered against his mouth in the middle of this crowded bar. "I'm ready for you to take me to your place."

He kissed you gently and shook his head. "Let's go out to my truck, and I'll drive you back to your apartment or dorm."

God, he was such a good kisser, but he was really grating on your nerves at this point. You were a little nervous that he would keep saying no and then ruin your chances with Rooster or one of the other guys in attendance tonight, even though they would be clear backup options now. You whined in annoyance. "Come on, Jake."

"No. I'm not taking you home with me," he replied firmly. 

You stomped your foot; you really wanted to lose your damn virginity, and you couldn't give it away. "You don't even have to take me back to your place. We can fuck in the parking lot."

"Jesus Christ, Darlin'. That's not happening either," he said, looking scandalized. "Definitely not for your first time. And a leather mini skirt is an impractical outfit to get fucked in anyway."

You tipped your head back and groaned. "Well how was I supposed to know that?" Then you looked at his handsome face, pretty much ready to call it a night and try again tomorrow at a different bar. "I'm doing everything wrong."

He had the nerve to laugh at you again. "No. You're really not. The skirt is just going to make guys want to work harder for it. And honestly, somehow the sneakers are doing something for me?"

A small glimmer of hope flashed inside you as you ran your fingers along his stubbled cheek. "Yeah?"

"God. Damn. It." He was practically growling now as he started to haul you toward the exit. "If we're doing this, then we're doing it right."

"Okay!" you replied immediately, not really sure what you were agreeing to as he led you outside to the dark deck, letting the door close behind the two of you. The loud interior of the bar was a thing of the past now as he took your chin between his thumb and fingers and kissed you a little rough with the ocean as the new soundtrack. 

You almost dropped your purse as you tried to wrap your arms around his neck, already wanting more of him. "If you really want to do this," he said between kisses, "then you're playing by my rules." You were practically whimpering as his lips found the side of your neck, because why did his words sound so sexy?

"Absolutely," you whispered. "Jake's rules."

He half carried you out to the dimly lit parking lot as he muttered, "This is a terrible idea." He squinted at your face and added, "You seem like the type who never learns her lesson."

"I resent that," you said, running your lips along his ear even as your feet left the ground. "I have a 4.0 GPA. I always learn my lessons."

He grunted as he helped you into what you assumed was his truck before standing outside the door with his hands on his hips. "Like I said, you're a real smartass. Now listen up. I'm going to be as gentlemanly as I possibly can during this whole thing."

"Whole thing?" you asked, wondering what he could possibly mean. He just needed to get completely hard, shove his cock in you for a little while, and then call it a night.

"Yeah," he grunted, his green eyes a little wild in the glow from the truck's dome lights. "I'm going to make sure you come. I'm going to be as sweet as I can be. But you need to be clear if you're not having a good time, or if you want me to stop. If you can't abide by those basic ground rules, we're absolutely done here."

Oh. He was really taking this seriously. You chewed on your lip, and his face became more apprehensive. But you weren't debating with yourself whether or not his ground rules would work for you. You were actually trying to figure out why he was already being better than anything you anticipated tonight. Anticipated ever.

"Oh, my god," you gasped. "Are you married?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" he shouted, looking angry now. "Of course I'm not married!"

You reached out to him and grabbed his hand. "Sorry! It's just that you're sweet, and you seem to be taking this really seriously! I was just checking!"

Jake scowled, and his tone was one akin to hurt. "I'm not letting you make yourself believe that all you deserve for your first time is a careless fuck in a bar bathroom or a parking lot, and I'm certainly not letting one of those drunk assholes maul you apart!"

The more you thought about it, you really didn't want to be manhandled or have to pull your skirt up in a bathroom stall to make the best of things tonight. You squeezed his hand which you were still holding as you softly said, "Thank you."

He ran his free fingers through his soft hair and muttered something that sounded like, "Yeah, don't thank me yet." Then he kissed your lips and said, "Buckle your seatbelt," before he let go of your hand and closed the door. 

-------------------------

You were pretty quiet on the drive back to Jake's place, but you didn't seem as nervous now. If anything, he thought his nerves were ramping up while yours were calming down. He couldn't remember how many condoms he had left in his bedside drawer, and when he tried to estimate how many he might use tonight, he almost missed his turn. Was he really going to do this?

"You live by the beach," you remarked, playing with the hem of your tiny skirt while you looked out the window.

"I do," he replied, mentally cancelling his morning run if you were going to stay over. The implications of letting you spend the night were creeping up on him, but kicking you out was absolutely not going to be an option. You likely had the entirety of the rest of your life to be disappointed by men, but he wasn't going to set that precedent. 

"How old did you say you were?"

Jake felt a little dirty now when he said, "I didn't. But I'm thirty." He tapped the brakes when he was about a block from his house. His truck already smelled sweet like your perfume or shampoo, and he glanced at you when he turned onto his street. "Let me take you back to your place."

You laughed softly as you leaned a little closer to him. "Negative, Hangman. I have a twin bed and a nosy roommate. I think we're better off doing this at yours."

"Come on, Darlin'. That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He coasted up to the stop sign on the quiet side street; he could see his little, white cottage on the next block, but he turned to look at your face in profile as you crossed your arms over your chest. You were looking straight ahead, chin proudly held high as you said, "If you really don't want to have sex with me, then turn right and head back toward Pomona Avenue."

It wasn't that he didn't want to. You were all pouty lips and feminine curves and perky tits, and yeah... he did want to fuck you. And he wanted to make it so good, you'd ask for more. He wanted to take his time and pull that first orgasm from you while he gave it to you exactly how you needed it. When he didn't turn his truck back toward Pomona, you looked at him and whispered, "It's okay if you're not into it, Jake. You can take me home. You don't have to worry about me."

He made a noise at the back of his throat and licked his lips. "That's not it." He wanted to say more, but for now, he answered your concerns by moving his foot to the accelerator and driving straight through the intersection. You visibly relaxed in the seat next to him, and a few seconds later, he was pulling his truck up to his house. You were looking out the window toward his cottage, and when you reached for the door handle, he let his hand rest on your bare knee. You turned his way immediately, and he said, "You never agreed to play by my rules."

"I agree."

He shook his head. "Then tell me what my ground rules were."

You bit your bottom lip, and he could feel you squeeze your legs together as you whispered, "You said you'd make sure I come. And that you would be sweet. And that if I tell you I'm not having a good time, you'll stop." Jake let his hand slide a few inches higher, and you responded by easing your legs apart and telling him, "I agree with the ground rules."

Jake nodded once and said, "Looks like I'm stuck with you now."

You kissed him. Somehow you caught him off guard every time you did it. You were tentative and inquisitive, and when you moved closer, his hand eased up your thigh. "You're stuck with me," you murmured between kisses. "For probably at least a half an hour." Jake started laughing, and you pulled away slightly. "What's funny?"

"Darlin', you're playing by my rules. You want me to teach you about sex? Half an hour isn't even going to be enough to get you warmed up."

You looked surprised as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. "Teach me about sex? I thought you were just going to fuck me and call it a night."

Jake moaned. "Definitely not. Now let's get started."

--------------------------

You found yourself in Jake's living room, eyes darting around, trying to figure out what to focus on first. He was an actual adult with award commendations from the Navy and a massive TV. You felt small in his space, and some of your bravado melted away as he chuckled and said, "I'd offer you a drink, but, you know."

You tapped the toe of your sneaker against the hardwood floor and said, "According to my ID, I'm the same age as you. I like white wine, thanks."

He was trying not to laugh as he walked into his kitchen, and you followed along behind him, watching as he reached for a wine glass and filled it with ice water. "Enjoy your chardonnay, Darlin'," he drawled, and now you were also trying not to laugh.

"Thanks," you whispered before taking a sip. You tried to set your purse on the counter, but the clasp caught the edge, and both of your IDs came sliding out along with a strip of three condoms. When Jake met your eyes you said, "I made sure I was prepared before I left my place. I'm young, not stupid."

"But the Hard Deck?" he asked, closing the distance between your bodies. "Not your smartest move, parading around in there with a fake and some condoms. The guys that hang out there wouldn't know their ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to making sure a woman enjoys herself."

"You hang out there," you told him with a little eye roll, and his fingers came up under your chin. He tilted your face up until you were staring into his pretty green eyes, and your core clenched with need.

"I don't make promises I can't keep," he told you, and you absolutely believed him. "Now, you said you're a virgin, but why don't you go ahead and tell me how experienced you are."

You swallowed hard, chin still held in place by those rough fingers. "Is that really necessary? I'm ready to go, Jake." You set your glass of water on the counter next to the condoms and reached out to touch his solid abs through his shirt.

"There's a little more to it than that," he told you, stroking your jaw with his thumb. "Let's talk and get to know each other a bit."

The last thing you wanted him to know about was your complete lack of experience with guys. "We don't have to do that." 

"Yeah, well I want to," he told you, finally releasing your chin.

"You're very old fashioned," you said with a smirk, and your hands settled on his belt.

"I'm a lot older than you, smartass. Humor me." Instead of responding with anything about yourself, you held eye contact with him while you yanked the end of his belt free from the belt loops and started to unbuckle it. A smile danced along his lips, and he said, "Fine. I'll start. I'm a Lieutenant in the Navy. I grew up in Texas, but I've lived all over the country. My favorite food is chili. I love running on the beach in the morning before it gets too hot out. I have four sisters. And I'm a Scorpio."

You had the button of his jeans undone, and you were easing his zipper down as you said, "You do seem like a Scorpio, Lieutenant Jake." His green eyes were still on yours as you officially went further than you ever had with a guy by letting your fingers run along his impressive length through his underwear. He licked his lips as you reached the tip and then dipped your hand inside his snug boxer briefs. He was warm and velvety soft while also getting harder by the second, and you gasped at the look in his eyes. "Does this feel good?" you asked softly as his pupils widened.

He nodded once, and his voice sounded raspier as he told you, "Yes."

"Good," you mused out loud, unable to contain your smirk as Jake grunted softly. "If you like it, then the guy from my physics class who I want to go out with will probably like it, too."

Suddenly, Jake's hand was on your wrist in an iron-tight grasp, preventing you from stroking him. "What?" you gasped, his hand tightening incrementally as something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

"Lesson number one. When you're with a guy, and you have your hand wrapped around his cock, you shouldn't be talking about a different guy."

You pouted up at him and said, "I already told you earlier that part of the reason I wanted to lose my virginity was so it would feel good when I get with Cooper."

"And I'm telling you right now that you're done talking about him," he grunted. "Got it?"

A chill of delight ran up your spine as you whispered, "Yes. Understood."

His grasp on your wrist released immediately, and he leaned in, kissing you softly one time. "That's just a surefire way to get a guy jealous," he informed you, and another little chill ran through your body as you considered that maybe you just made him a little jealous. 

When you ran your hand along his length again, his lips were back on yours immediately, and he moved you so your leather covered butt was pressed against the edge of his countertop. Then he took your hips in both of his big hands, and you whimpered into his mouth. He teased you, pulling away slightly just so you'd chase him for more. He was throbbing against your palm as your other hand found his hair once again. 

He was sexy. Even the rough stubble on his face felt delicious as it rubbed your chin and cheeks. Then, just as his lips started to migrate along your jaw, he carefully reached for your wrist again, withdrawing your hand from his jeans. "Yes, it feels good, but this isn't about me, Darlin'."

When his lips skimmed down your neck before settling on your pulse point, you whimpered his name. Then he sucked gently on you there while he toyed with the zipper at the side of your mini skirt. He was big and strong, and he smelled good, and as he worked your zipper down, inch by painstaking inch, you shifted so you were rubbing against him.

As soon as his fingers dipped inside the elastic of your underwear, it felt like you were clenching around nothing. Usually you had to use your fingers for a while to get that kind of result, but he hadn't even touched you there yet. Then you realized you were wet. Really wet from his lips and his touch. Your thong felt damp against your skin as your skirt started to slide down your hips, and your voice was a little too loud as you gasped and said, "Okay, I'm ready. I'm definitely ready. Let's do it. Where's your bedroom?"

Jake's lips released your neck. He brought his mouth up to your ear and told you, "Absolutely not. Not yet."

Your skirt slipped a few more inches as Jake ran his nose along the shell of your ear. "God. Do you need me to ask nicely or something? Please?"

"You're playing by my rules. Did you forget? We're not rushing through this." Your skirt dropped to the floor at your feet as Jake pulled away and looked at your face. "Unless you're not having a good time, Darlin'. Say the words, and I'll stop."

You had no control of your body as your head tipped back, a low moan escaping as you said, "I don't want you to stop." You panted as you rubbed your wet panties against the open fly of his jeans. "It feels so good. But I want more."

Jake's hand found the back of your head, tilting it forward until you were looking at him again. "What do you want me to do to you?" he asked as one of his calloused fingers played with the lace trim along the top of your underwear.

"I want you to fuck me," you whispered with a moan, nodding your head as he smirked at you. 

"Really, pretty girl? You sure that's it? Because it sounds more like you want me to make you feel good." His fingers stroked up to your belly button and back down again as you bucked against him. "I think you know by this point in our conversation that you're allowed to enjoy this. And I can tell that's what you really want." 

"What could possibly feel better than getting fucked?" you asked in desperation. "I want you to fuck me!"

"No, you don't," he whispered, voice harsh and needy. He kissed you hard on the mouth two times before adding, "You want me to make you feel better than you've ever felt before. You want me to touch you with more skill than you can touch yourself. And none of that has to do with me fucking you. Tell me I'm wrong."

You bit down on your lip as his hand reached around to your butt, and suddenly you knew for sure it wouldn't have been like this with Rooster or any of the other guys at the bar. They would have fucked you and unloaded into one of the three condoms by now. Maybe you wouldn't have even gotten wet for them. You'd probably be back at your place in bed, planning on seeing Cooper on Monday morning with a new outlook on life. But it wouldn't have been like this.

Jake wanted more than that for your first time, and now you were starting to see that you could have more as his rough fingers kneaded into you. If you were already about to come just from rubbing yourself on him, then playing by his rules and letting him take his time was sounding better by the second.

You took a deep breath, let your lips brush against his and told him, "I want you to make me feel good."

"That's more like it, Darlin'," he crooned. "I'll take care of you."

----------------------------

Jake is about to show you that he's a man of his word. He keeps his promises, and he's already made some to you. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[thecouchsofa]

It might be March, but better late than never!

While I posted more fic in 2024 (see my 2024 year in fic) than I ever have before, I also read an absolute shitload. Below the cut are some of my favourites that were published in 2024, arranged by word count.

As always, there is an absolute wealth of talent in this fandom and the amount of goodness we have here never ceases to amaze me. The fics below all really did it for me in a number of different ways. Though my opinion is subjective, I will happily vouch for all of them. Happy reading! 📚

❤️🩵💛💚

🌹Way to go, Tiger by @houndsinhades | G | 2k | 🌹

The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness Way to go, Tiger Scorpius Malfoy's seventh birthday.

Read for: Scorpius at his best, Wholesome Parent/Child Relationship, Draco after the War

Note: This is technically a gen fic, but it gives major Drarry vibes so I’m putting it here anyway

🌺The game's the game by @hogwartsfirebolt | M | 3k | 🌺

Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

Read for: Quidditch Rivals Harry and Draco, Friends with Benefits, a full story told expertly in a low word count

🌻 The sun between us by @eleadore | E | 7k | 🌻

Draco Malfoy, an omega. It was laughable until he was right in front of you, smelling like he was one shaky step from tripping into a heat.

Read for: Omegaverse, Snarky Banter, Good Characterisation (yes, I’m putting that on a PWP)

🌼 Apophenia by b6p592l11 | T | 12k |🌼

Out of the many things Sirius expected to happen after the war, having to deal with his godson dating a Death Eater was definitely not one of them.

Read for: Sirius Lives, Sirius POV, Draco/Regulus Parallels

🌷The Window by @hoko-onchi-writes | E | 15k |🌷

“I swear all you ever talk about is men.” Ron laughs and vanishes the last of the joint. “Sweet fucking Christ,” Harry says. “Remind me to never involve you in my life in any way, ever again.” He gives Harry a very handsome grin. “Padma said she saw him. At a Tesco’s.” “Who?” “Draco sodding Malfoy.” “At a Tesco’s,” Harry repeats. He’s very stoned, having an out-of-body experience imagining Draco Malfoy in a Tesco’s, holding a frozen dinner. He wonders, very briefly, what Malfoy’s been up to since the war. “I bet you wish you had a map of that Tesco’s. So you could track his name.” “Fuck off.” ~~ In which Harry grows up in darkness, falls in love, fucks up, learns some things, and falls in love again.

Note: this story also features Harry/Charlie, but it is endgame Drarry

Read for: Character Study (Harry), Adorable Scorpius, this line that I want tattooed on my prefrontal cortex: "There’s a very blond man with a laptop, and an equally blond toddler wearing a Wiggles t-shirt and brandishing a trashy romance novel like a weapon."

🪻Je te reverrai by @soliblomst and art by @kk1smet | E | 16k |🪻

When Beauxbatons visited Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, Draco managed to control his attraction to fourteen-year-old Harry Potter. When Beauxbatons returns three years later for a cultural exchange, Draco's attraction to seventeen-year-old Harry Potter is impossible to curtail. In his defence, Harry's perfectly tailored blue robes, mixed signals, and French accent do not help.

Read for: Beauxbatons Harry, French Speaking Harry, Gorgeous Art

🌹Nine Days in Coventry by @sitaz | G | 16k |🌹

When a de-aged Draco Malfoy is discovered in Knockturn Alley, the Ministry appoints Family Liaison Officer Potter as his emergency guardian. Whisked away to a Muggle safehouse, Draco does not cope well, and Harry learns just how hard life can be when a five-year-old declares war on you.

Read for: De-aged Draco, Draco being a brat (but so cute), Harry taking care of Draco, Pre-Relationship

🌺 The most he’s ever said by @fastbrother | E | 16k |🌺

It takes them twenty years.

Read for: Down and Out to Redeemed and Competent Draco, Draco-centric, the Situationship of a Lifetime

Warning: Infidelity, but not between Drarry

🌻You And Me Against The World by @dracowillhearaboutthis | T | 17k |🌻

When Draco finally meets his soulmate, he doesn't want anything to do with Draco.

Read for: Soulmarks, Partial Canon Rewrite, Remus raises Harry, Draco and Theo friendship

🌼Equally Cursed and Blessed by @moonflower-rose | E | 18k |🌼

Harry's back at Hogwarts to attempt his final year, again. This time he's sure there'll be no shenanigans. Well. Maybe there'll be a few.

Read for: Draco’s artsy porn collection, Humour, Harry and Ron’s ride or die friendship

🌷Goodbye, Old You by harDeehar (dryrsheet) | E | 19k |🌷

As an alpha, Harry Potter should not have been an assistant for the newly minted Diversity department, and he definitely should not have been working under Draco. Draco seemed to be the only person who thought Harry was suspicious, but he was used to taking care of things on his own, anyway. Luckily, Draco was not as alone as he thought, and his understanding of Harry's intentions turned out to not be the only misjudgement Draco made.

Read for: Omegaverse, Coworkers, Mpreg

🪻Raising Hell! by @wolfpants | E | 21k |🪻

Harry and Draco are sent undercover as a married couple to investigate a dodgy Muggle love cult. Something evil is lurking in Glastonbury… but to get to it, the reluctant partners must be initiated first. And this is, after all, a love cult…

Read for: Case Fic, Competent Draco, Muggle Sex Cults, Good Smut

🌹The Superfluous Man by peu_a_peu | E | 24k |🌹

A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life.

Read for: Mpreg, snappy writing style, a pre-2015 feel

🌺On the divine agony of longing by @flimsi | E | 25k |🌺

Speaking to Draco is like poking a beehive - and Harry is a glutton for punishment. In which Harry makes some serious blunders and then tries to fix it. Somehow. Draco’s eyes narrow and his mouth purses, pretty and pink and wet from whatever he’s been drinking. “Any mediocre time is better than whatever you can you offer, Head Auror Potter. We’ve had this conversation. I thought I made myself clear.”

Read for: Magically Powerful Harry, Possessive Pining Harry, Competent Draco

🌻Antelucan Ruins by @rainjulyx | E | 29k |🌻

From the bloody Prophet, Draco discovers Harry Potter’s death splashed in grey ink printed on the front page. Potter is dead before Draco gets to see him again to fulfil a half-spoken promise. And yet, these days Draco has the power to bend the world to his heart’s desires, and that includes fucking Harry Potter even after he personally saw Potter’s pale, lifeless body lying in a coffin before it got buried under the soil. — "Do you realise that you're just as pathetic and insane? You're so hung up on the idea of me that you'd fuck a ghost, Malfoy. You risked your life for it." Draco puts an arm around Potter's body, "Whoever says I am sane? Certainly not me. It's calculated risk with more success rate than failure. And you are dead, Potter. You refuse to move on to the next realm because you crave for my cock."

Read for: BAMF Draco, Ghost Harry, a surprisingly hopeful tone considering one of them is pretty dead

🌼The only thing worse than heartbreak is Vermont by @jtimu | E | 31k |🌼

In the aftermath of a failed relationship, Draco Malfoy found himself with three things. His pride (tattered), Theo's luggage (stolen), and an all-inclusive couples' vacation package to Vermont (awful).

Read for: Lumberjack Harry, Banter, International Location

🌷Skipping Stones by @whimsibeee | M | 34k |🌷

Draco receives his very own prophecy. If Harry Potter could leave him alone, he might be able to figure out what it means.

Read for: Coming of Age vibes, Cosy Atmospheric writing, Complicated Family Dynamics

🪻Obscuro by @stratigraphywrites | E | 35k |🪻

Draco is grieving. His conversation partner is here against his will. It's a shameless rip-off of an insipid Muggle reality dating show. Hardly the occasion for true love, if you ask Draco. feat. a cat named Marmalade, a bird named Mumble, Lee Jordan's answer to Love is Blind, and two best friends who only want their dads to be happy.

Read For: Game Show Format, Hidden Identity, Good Smut, Epilogue Compliant

🌹Invito by PrinceMalice | E | 36k |🌹

Draco mused on the possible first use of the charm. What had the wizard been calling for? The text didn’t specify. As for the etymology— the meaning of the word itself was derived from I call, I summon— or the Hungarian variation of the incantation… To invite. Or, Harry keeps inviting Draco places. Draco keeps turning him down… until he doesn't.

Read for: Eighth Year, the sweetest unfolding of a relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Party Games

🌺Gemini in Retrograde by @citrusses | T | 38k |🌺

Draco Malfoy doesn’t understand his son. Scorpius Malfoy doesn’t understand his father. It’s going to take more than one disastrous, body-swapping curse to change that.

Read for: Body Swapping, Alternating Scorpius/Draco POV, Draco being a good dad, Soft Harry, DADA Professor Harry

🌻No Harm by Tessa Crowley | E | 46k |🌻

After a long, bloody war, Draco Malfoy just wants to do something good with his life for a change, and resolves to become a healer. But magical society refuses to make it easy for him, and an increasingly dramatic series of events—all of them instigated by Harry Potter—get him kicked out of med school, force him to live in exile, and threaten to destroy the new life he’s trying so desperately to build. But Harry isn’t instigating anything—at least not on purpose. He’s just trying to work up the nerve to ask him out. His efforts don’t appear to be going great.

Read for: Down and out Draco, Pining Harry, same scenes from different perspectives

��Truth to Materials by lately & @toomuchplor | E | 54k | 🌼

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

Read for: Artist Draco, Paris, Good Smut

🌷Pillar of Salt by @epitomereally | E | 62k | 🌷

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Read for: Eighth Year, Alternate Universes (sort of), Magical Theory

🪻Behind Closed Doors by @stratigraphywrites | E | 77k | 🪻

Twelve years after Harry Potter disappeared from the wizarding world and from Draco's life, his daughter starts at Hogwarts.

Read for: Secret Child, Angst with a Happy Ending, Nonlinear Narrative

🌹A Soft Place to Fall by @amomorii | E | 142k | 🌹

When Harry arrives for his first year teaching at Hogwarts and is struck with a bizarre malignance, how on earth is he supposed to react when Draco Malfoy suddenly cares? Or; A darkness crawls out of Harry, and there's only so long he can keep it to himself.

Read for: Unique Concept, Managing Childhood Trauma, Reluctant Magical Coparenting (but it’s not what you think)

🌺The Star Splitter by @oflights | E | 219k |🌺

On a routine time travel assignment to the past, Draco stumbles upon 7-year-old Harry Potter and witnesses his neglect and mistreatment by the Dursleys. In the moment, there is only one solution, even if it goes against all his training as a Time Agent: he has to bring Harry back to the future with him. In which Draco burns his life down for the sake of his former school rival.

Read for: Time Travel, Draco taking care of Harry, Kid Fic

I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I did! If you read any, don't forget to show the creators some love ❤️🩵💛💚

[almostmylove]

shatter me with your love part 1. reposting old work but better!!!

Part 2

warning: neglect, angst Summary: trying to live up to the wayne standard is hard when its levels above you yet somehow your brother already seem to be passing it. ( made a bit of mistake cuz i thought i finished it lol)

(this is one of my old series that was on my old channel that i decided to repost and change a bit, also sorry if there is any misinformation)

You’ve always done the best you could be in the eyes of the public. all As , good student , great reputation, trained hard, been by the book and always on your best behavior. but that has never been enough in the eyes of your family. You knew it was never their intentions to ignore your achievements or good aspects it always seemed to go that way.

From the eyes of the tabloids and public, the Wayne family seemed to be a untouched, powerful billionaire enterprise filled with determined children that came from tragedies to riches and shine on top despite the situation but you knew the truth... you saw right thru there lies that they tried to shove down your throat and everyone Else's. Bruce Wayne, a born billionaire thrown into the tragedy of the murder and assault of his parents right in front hi, being taken care of by his butler, Alfred pennyworth. he managed to persevere and grow stronger than ever, continuing the billionaire empire. Now sharing a growing empire with his children that seem to share the same or similar path. perfect broken family that is ruled by a grown man that dress up in a costume to fight crime that never really ends because its Gotham fucking city for Christ sake. Dick Richard Grayson, first child of Bruce Wayne, became Bruce's ward after fall and death of his parents while preforming a live stunt on their show , flying Grayson's. Touched by the similarities in his life, Bruce Wayne took dick under his wing as a ward before later being formally adopted into the family, growing up to be a lovely and handsome young man with many achievements. he Follows in the steps of his father and trying to make Gotham better. what a joke. the only reason he is so loved is because of his personality he shows people but if... if they knew how you saw him in your eyes, their view would change so damn quick.

next up is poor Jason Todd that was never really in the eye of the public and never formally adopted but speculations say that he had been a trouble youth and taken under his wing after their unknown encounter. (and maybe to replace the void that dick Grayson left). Mostly Kept out of public for the most part (as he died "a victim of crime abroad while studying in the middle east"). a sweet looking fellow they say. you would laugh in their face if they saw him now. Timothy Jackson drake was also adopted after the death of his mother in an explosion and his father seemly gone by in same way. became Bruce's ward at some point but nothing is really known about him other than his academic achievement of being a genius, sadly dropped out though. him being a genius is probably the only thing that saved him in your eyes too because otherwise then that he was a snobby bitch. (in your opinion) last but not least is Damien (al Ghul ) Wayne, the only biological son of the one and only Bruce Wayne but normal people don't know that. they look so alike its kind of scary yet so different at that age, even Alfred confirmed that. the mother is said to be one of Wayne's flings or dates during his billionaire playboy era or and adoptee(would'nt be out of the questions knowing his history). damien Has been Seen at many galas and important events, attending Gotham academy with a snarky and rich attitude and in someways he fits right in. (speculation also says that he will inherit the Wayne business as his father did). Lastly there is you the last child. Nobody really knows who you are or how you became part of the prestige family. But some rumors say your mother was a hooker and that Bruce never wanted you but had to take you in after your mother died, none of that was true though. your mother was very much alive well... for the most part, she just wasn’t never right in the headspace and was taken wehn she tried to stab you. also you had always been in the Wayne manor for years now, a year before Jason had arrived there albeit way younger then him at the time so about 9-12 when Jason( 14-15) came along. somehow, they had never figured out since your father never had time to parade you like he did with the rest of the children. He never had time to spend time with you and you understood. you really did. He had a lot on his shoulder to try and balance and keep everything under wrap like being the CEO of the Wayne company, looking over and making new technology, galas, his public image and most importantly his other kids that were more connect to his nightlife as batman then his day life especially with damien. When you first arrived at the manner after you were taken care to a mental hospital and your father, a close friend of his had died unexpectedly. At first he didn’t tell you about his nightlife at the beginning. It was only when you accidentally stumbled upon the bat cave much like dick had done in the past , where you had seen your brother going into and you found yourself face to face with both batman and robin.

It was only till then where they told you about their secret life at night. Dick was always the friendliest one and remainder like that up even though he kind of neglected you like the other but still he was the one that offered you to train with him with a small nod from Bruce which made you accept happily.

how naive of you.

Looking back maybe you should of declined if you knew how you would’ve felt in the future. You knew that you were no good at ANY of the stuff that dick tried to teach you and even Bruce tried but didn't have the heart to continue with your training. everyday even after the training session with dick ended for the day, you would continue past sun rise only to find yourself sweating profusely and panting on the clanky metallic ground like you had come up to the surface from almost drowning. You lay there every day taking a break, panting and pondering many questions like why were you not getting any better or why you haven’t found your hidden talent. you would always come back to the one question on your mind. Why did you continue to push your self too hard even when you knew that none of your family would be mad if you didn’t become part of the night life. even Bruce had reassured you that you didn’t have to force yourself to join him and robin. he didn't want to feel as if he was forcing you too either. everyone at the time ( Alfred , Bruce and dick ) told you not to push yourself hard to feel obligated to join. yet all you did was wonder why you continue but deep down you knew the answer, you just couldn’t accept that that was the answer. It was because you knew that you were inferior to the rest of your brothers. Dick Grayson, original wonder boy and vigilante, night wing . Jason Todd , second robin and red hood. Tim drake, third robin and Greatest detective and Damien Wayne , most recently robin , son of talia al ghul and heir to the throne of the rah al ghul and next leader of the league of assassin, also a trained killer with impressive skills ,you compared to them you were so unimportant that you had tried-forced to take up a role that the others had filled in perfectly , just to get approval and recognition from b, both bruce , your father and Batman your idol.

Part 2

[rafesbabygirlx]

I Love Him Though

Masterlist

Toxic Rafe x Kook Reader

Contents: CNC/DUBCON, smut, breeding kink, oral (m+f receiving) name callings turns into pet name calling, daddy kink, degradation, physical abuse mentions. Unsuccessful offering (prostitution) Rafe is back and forth with emotions. Ward is dead but I still picture curtain bangs S2 Rafe when he’s ’toxic.’ That should be everything.

Not read over

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: someone let me know if I’m using warnings right. Please also I’m working in better dialogue and hope it’s improving. :)

You were the quintessential heiress princess, born into OBX’s most prominent family. The youngest of four brothers and your parents’ only daughter, you just graduated from USC in California with a business degree and returned to the island, stepping into the role of Chief Operations Officer, second only to your father. Your beauty was legendary on Figure Eight—admired by girls and desired by boys.

Alongside you was your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron—handsome, irresistible, and undeniably complicated. He went to UCLA for business. Not his first choice but he’d be damned to let you be across the country on your own. You started dating sophomore year, and despite the ups and downs, you stayed together, much to your parents’ dismay. They had warned you about the Cameron family, especially Rafe’s drug and anger issues. But the relationship felt like the one thing that was truly yours, and you didn’t care.

Not when he slapped you in front of your friends. Not when he tried to offer you to Barry as payback for a debt. (Thankfully, Barry had some decency.) Not even when he ruined a family dinner, barging in during a coke-fueled rage. You excused yourself to take care of him, understanding that it always came back to his issues with his father. This all happened during his downward spiral and issues with the Pogues. All this you heard from Sarah and not the supposed love of your life and yet you still stayed. None of these behaviors changing in LA at school.

You thought Rafe would change after his dad passed—become softer, more loving, and respectful. Instead, it pushed him deeper into anger and bitterness. While you thrived at work, earning the admiration of your family and employees, Rafe’s messages grew increasingly hostile throughout the day. You couldn’t understand how he had the time for this, given that he had taken over his father’s company. But not shocked how he just rode through it without care.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Rafe 8:50 AM: “Hey, are we getting dinner tonight?”

Rafe 12:00 PM: “Are you fucking kidding me? Three hours?!”

12:30 PM: 7 missed calls from Rafe.

Rafe 2:00 PM: “Why do I even bother with a stupid bitch like you? I could fuck anyone I want.”

You 2:05 PM: “We’re still on for dinner. Jesus Christ, Rafe, I’ve been in meetings since 7:30 AM. Do you not have anything better to do?”

Rafe 4:00 PM: “You’re questioning me about what I do? I work hard to keep my dad’s legacy alive while you probably have your daddy’s help. You’re pathetic, and I should slap some sense into you.”

Rafe 5:00 PM: “What time are you gonna be home?”

You 5:05 PM: “Six.”

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Moments like these, unfortunately frequent, made you regret ever giving Rafe a key to your apartment. Even after all this time, you refused to move in with him at Tannyhill. You loved him, but the thought of living together was unbearable until he got his issues under control.

As expected, when you arrived home, Rafe was already in your kitchen. You didn’t even have a chance to put your bags down before he started. “What the fuck is your problem?!” His face was red, fists clenched.

“Rafe, I’m not doing this. I work—I actually work—and you harassing me all day with your bullshit is no—”

Before you could finish, he slapped you, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. Your mind spun as your face burned from the sting.

Rafe's hands were rough as they tore at your clothes, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. You tried to struggle against him, but he was too strong, pinning you down with ease. His grip on your throat tightened, and you felt the sting of his words as he spat, "You wouldn't have to be treated like such a whore if you weren't such a bitch with a mouth on you."

“Fuck you Rafe, get off of me!” Your protests fell on deaf ears as Rafe's grip only tightened, his voice low and menacing. "Go ahead, finish telling me what you think," he growled, his teeth bared in a snarl. He dragged you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with a thud, before climbing over you and trapping your arms beneath his knees. “Just be a good girl for me. Alright?”

His hand stroked his hardened length, the tip brushing against your lips as he smeared precum across your mouth. You tried to resist, but Rafe's anger only escalated. "Fine, I guess we can do this the hard way," he sneered, his grip on your throat becoming a vice.

You struggled for breath as Rafe's hand closed around your throat, his grip tightening until you could barely gasp for air. Just as you thought you would suffocate, Rafe thrust himself inside you, his hands gripping your hair as he pumped furiously. He didn't care about your comfort or your well-being; all that mattered was his pleasure and your punishment.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You were suffocating, your airway constricted by Rafe's girth and your own helplessness. His cock felt like a vice around your throat, choking the life out of you as he thrust deeper, his grunts echoing in your ears. "Open up and look at me, let me know who your daddy is," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

You struggled to open your eyes, but the discomfort was too much, and tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision. Rafe yanked your hair, the pain searing through you, and slapped you hard across the cheek. "LOOK!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the room.

You complied, your eyes watering as you gazed up at him, your vision a blurry mess. Rafe's eyes lit up with perverse pleasure. "Yeah, there are those pretty eyes, my pretty fucking slut looks so good choking on me," he crooned, his voice dripping with sick satisfaction.

His thrusts became sloppy and erratic, his cock slipping in and out of your throat with a wet, slapping sound. Drool pooled at your chin, his balls slapping it making the drool drip down to your chest as you struggled to breathe. Your body felt numb, your mind foggy with pain and fear.

Rafe didn't seem to care, lost in his own pleasure and power trip. He gripped your hair tighter, his hips bucking wildly as he continued to thrust, his cock jamming deeper into your throat. The pain was unbearable, but you knew that stopping would only make it worse.

And so you lay there, trapped beneath him, your throat ravaged by his cock, your body broken and bruised, as Rafe continued to throat fuck you like an animal, his pleasure the only thing that mattered. Finally with one final thrust he came down your throat. The warm liquid somewhat soothing the sting of pain that’s there.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

He moves back to in between your thighs and his hands gripping your hips. Your arms now rushing with blood again are limp next to your body, no feeling to them and Rafe sat on them for what felt like an eternity. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you try to push him away, but he holds you firmly in place. "Please, Rafe, stop," you beg, tears streaming down your face. He ignores your pleas, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and lust.

He kneels there, not moving. You sit up to look at him better through tears as you cry. His hands still grip your hips tightly, holding you in place. You try to wriggle free, but he doesn't budge. His face is inches from yours, his breath hot on your skin as he glares at you. You just want him away from you.

"You're mine," he says, his voice low and threatening. "You'll learn to stay in line." He doesn't move, just sits there, his body a heavy burden on yours. You're trapped, unable to escape his grip or his gaze. He hands you his undershirt to wipe your face of the drool and tears. You just cry into it.

The silence is oppressive, the air thick with tension. You sob quietly, trying to break free, but he holds you firm. Time seems to stand still as you lie there, helpless in front him. His eyes never leave you.

He finally breaks the heavy silence, his voice low and hesitant. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I love you so much, and I don’t want to be without you, but sometimes you need to learn your lesson.”

Tears stream down your face as you clutch his shirt, your voice trembling as you respond, “Rafe, I can’t do this anymore. You’re possessive, overbearing… and it scares me. Why can’t you understand that?” Your voice cracks, the words carrying years of frustration and fear.

He brushes off your plea, offering a half-hearted, “I know, I know. Let me make it up to you, show you I care.” His eyes are distant, his apology empty. He doesn’t understand. He never really listens, and deep down, you know he’s counting on you not doing anything about it.

Without acknowledging the depth of your pain, he lifts your chin and kisses you—deep, consuming, as if that alone could erase everything. His hands move with practiced ease, guiding you back onto the bed. His lips trail down your neck, planting soft kisses, sucking in your nipples, down your stomach and to your thighs, but the tenderness feels misplaced, hollow.

His thumb starts tracing gentle circles on your clit, while the rest of you is screaming, begging for him to stop. But the weight of his presence, the years of manipulation, pin you down as surely as his body does. He peels your panties off, his breath hot against your skin as he licks up your cunt, but it all feels wrong. It feels wrong but you can’t help but moan.

He begins to devour you, his tongue working magic on your sensitive clit. You're telling yourself no, but all you can get out are moans when you buck your hips up into him. He keeps working, sucking and licking at your pussy as he slides two fingers into you. "Oh my god, Rafe, right there," you force out between pants, your body trembling with pleasure. He looks up at you, a wicked smile on his face as he takes in your contorted expression. He loves this power he holds over you, and you can't help but be consumed by it.

Finally, he releases his fingers and mouth from you, climbing over you like a predator stalking its prey. He stares down at you, his eyes burning with desire, and you look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. For a second, he doesn't look like the evil man that terrifies you. "I want you to be happy, to be loved," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "Can we please be happy together, no more of these crazy ways?" You ask. He smiles, rubbing his thumb over your cheek, and without saying another word, he lines himself up and thrusts into you, hard and fast. His eyes lock onto yours, and you feel like you're being consumed by him, body and soul.

His pace is relentless, your body shuddering beneath him as he pounds into you. Your eyes roll back in your head, but he grabs your chin, pulling your gaze back to his. "Look at me, baby, look at who does this for you," he growls, his voice low and demanding.

You obey, staring into his eyes as he continues to fuck you. "No one can make you feel this good," he says, his fingers digging into your hips. "This pussy was made for me, I should fill you up and get you pregnant. What would your parents say if I knocked you up, huh? I know they hate me, hate who I am. But you love me, I know you do. Ugh, you wouldn't be clenching me like this if you didn't."

You don't reply, your eyes locked onto his as he continues to thrust into you. You know he's right; you'd love to have a family with Rafe, to feel him inside you, to know that he's the one who made you pregnant. "Tell me who you belong to," he demands, his fingers pinching your clit.

"You... I belong to you daddy," you whimper, your body trembling with pleasure. "I'm all yours."

"That's right, baby," he says, rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb. "When you listen, you get a reward." You lift your right leg over his shoulder knowing you’d get him at the perfect angle to hit your G-spot.

"I'm so close, Rafe," you cry out, your body arching off the bed. "Keep going."

He grins, his eyes burning with desire. "Me too, sweet girl," he says, thrusting harder. "Tell me where you want me. You want what I said? To fill you up, get you pregnant?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan out a lie, your body convulsing around him. "Fuck, fill me up."

He groans, you cum hard and he follows suit. His eyes rolling back as he cums deep inside you. He stays like that for a moment, before pulling out and watching his cum drip from you. Then he’s sticking a finger inside shoving the cum back in. "Gotta make sure it sticks, mama," he says, using the endearment that makes you shudder. He confuses it as a good one.

He leans down and kisses you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth as he holds you close. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, his body still trembling with passion. You know that this is just the beginning, that Rafe will keep pushing you, keep taking you to new heights.

“Y’know I love you right?” All you can do is nod.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You’re trapped between what you want to feel and what you know—caught in a cycle you’re terrified to break.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Rafe pulls away and silently rises from the bed. You lie there, motionless, feeling broken, battered, and emotionally drained as his absence fills the room. Curled up on your side, you stare at the wall, your mind numb, listening to the sound of him turning on the shower. The water runs, but it does nothing to drown out the hollow ache settling in your chest.

This has become your reality—a constant 360 with Rafe, a never-ending cycle of hurt, apologies, and hollow promises. Round and round, you go, lost in this whirlwind of love, control, and regret. You loved him once, loved him deeply, and you still find yourself missing the boy he used to be. The one who made you laugh, who held you like you were the only thing that mattered. But that boy feels like a distant memory now, replaced by someone who uses love as a weapon.

You convince yourself that he must love you—he has to. Why else would he want you to feel this way? He wouldn’t go to such lengths to make you feel good if he didn’t care, right? It’s a lie you tell yourself over and over, a story that comforts you even when the truth is painfully clear. You know it’s a manipulation tactic, one he’s used time and time again, but it works every time.

And you let it work because the idea of leaving, of being without him, despite your parents pleas, is scarier than staying trapped in this vicious circle.

[steviewashere]

Not gonna make this into a full fic, I don't think, but here's a little something I was thinking of <3 Mild hurt, mostly comfort, and a lot of Eddie getting ready to jump some bones

Steve's upset—and he believes rightfully so. Today was the day for a little bit of a trim and clean up on his hair. He booked his appointment a couple weeks before, for early in the morning right before lunch, with the same stylist he's had since his junior year of high school; the same stylist his mom sees because they're connected at the hip over the meticulous care of their heads of hair. He isn't called 'The Hair' for nothing.

Except, when he walked right up to the front counter, said his name with a shiny, charming smile, and a twinkle in his eyes—

"I'm sorry, Cherry's not in today. Flu's running rampant through her household. Tellin' ya, honey, kids are germ magnets." And the receptionist had popped her gum, whipped her hair over her shoulder, bat her eyes. "But I could hand you over to Gina? She's well trusted around her, real close with Cherry and her clients."

Of course, panicked to the soles of his shoes, Steve had blindly accepted the pass over. He thought it wouldn't be too much of a change. He thought that he could trust another pair of scissors. Well...no dice, apparently.

It's supposed to be the same thing he gets every single time. A clipping of Patrick Swayze from one of those tweeny girl magazines—he had stolen it from Erica, thank you very much—and maybe it's not supposed to be an exact replica to his gorgeous head of hair, but at least something similar. Maybe a little longer in the back, more of a swoop in the front.

Except, when he catches wind of himself in the mirror at the end of his appointment—Christ, I look like fucking Kurt Russell. He didn't even think his hair had grown out that long. Especially not Escape From New York long.

He smiles, words bit behind his teeth, and tips his normal amount. Pays for it in full without a single damn complaint. Even though he nearly bursts into tears when he gets to his car. And then, even worse, when he realizes he has to walk back through the front door of the apartment he shares with Eddie and look his boyfriend dead in the eyes. But he does so begrudgingly, every step as if it's his last.

When he opens the door, Eddie's already standing there, big grin on his face, eyes alight. "Did you get exactly what you"—

"They fucked up my hair, Eds! My hair!"

Eddie tilts his head and purses his lips, assessing the damage. "It doesn't look bad, sweetheart. Maybe a little more...more free and flowing than you prefer, but not fucked up levels of messed up."

He steps inside with a ginger door shut behind him. Doesn't want to be caught in full throttle tears on his doormat. His eyes get a little watery the longer Eddie stares at him. "But I look like fuckin' Kurt Russell, not Patrick Swayze," Steve pouts.

"Yeah, that didn't give you what you wanted exactly. But, baby, my sunshine—you really think you look awful? You know how handsome Kurt is? This whole look isn't a step down at all! It suits you pretty well!" Eddie steps towards Steve, shoving forward to paw through the waves and bends of his hair, scrunching it and viewing. "Put a little bit of mousse in it...maybe a tad of your hairspray? We could get this look elevated in a matter of seconds, make you look like a movie star down to the messy forehead strand on a red carpet."

Steve sniffs. Eyes big on Eddie's face—Eddie who isn't laughing or trying to bite back a giggle or open to make fun of it all. Just...just Eddie admiring. "You think I look handsome like this?"

"I think you're a beautiful babe with a strong mane of hair and you wear fine things well." Eddie shakes his fingers through the hair, messing with it until it falls mussed. "Like a big shot action star. Swear on it. And—hey! You know what?"

"What, Eds?"

"If you end up truly, miserably hating it after we find out how to style it, then I'll help you shape it up just as you like it. I'm sure I've got a few good photos around here that weren't sacrificed to the sun. Well, as long as you trust me with my hair scissors."

"You know how to cut hair?" Steve asks quietly.

"I've been cutting my own hair since I was in middle school. If I wasn't so set in stone on becoming a musician, I'd probably settle into being the next Frenchy, go the whole beauty school route."

He chuckles. "She drops out of beauty school, babe. Don't think that's what you want."

"Eh...maybe I'll go to learn enough about dye and trim jobs and then gallop away into the sunset on my noble steed, you, my princess, wrapped around me." For the first time since the appointment, Steve finds himself smiling—something small, but smiling—and Eddie returns it tenfold. "So...you gonna be my action movie star? Show me how big and strong you are?"

"You gonna keep combing your fingers through my hair?"

Something mischievous sparkles in Eddie's gaze. "Oh, I've got plans for all sorts of things, Stevie baby. Question is, are you gonna let me love you and your handsome do? If not, then we should get this shaped up now."

Steve sighs, dips his head in thought. He could let Eddie get his creativity out on more than just a set of lined notebook pages. But...well...Kurt Russell has been one of the first celebrities to really make Steve stop and think.

And Eddie...

Eddie seems like he'll burst at the seams if he doesn't get to live out whatever number of fantasies are swirling through his head.

"Okay," Steve agrees, purring, "show me how much you love my new look, sweetheart."

[stevenose]

ok also so i can't stop thinking about it's unexperienced!reader's first time getting high and bsf!steve's somewhat experienced so she trusts him to teach her. they smoke a few joints, she takes quite a few hits, and new discovery!! reader is HORNY when she's high. not even subtly, so so blunt like 'ugh i wish someone's head was between my thighs rn' ASFHSHHFS..... anyways.... it ends up with steve not being able to help himself and they INDULGE. like raw, next question. 😭😭 anyways

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this got me fucked up…

i see this and raise you fucking steve raw when you’re stoned. and he’s like, we can’t fuck without a condom!!! and you’re like, well it’s okay if you cum inside of me because you’re my best friend. and for some weird reason that makes sense…

like reader being so loudly horny the first time they smoke and asking steve personal questions that make him keep smoking because he needs to be on your level. pronto.

and the moment you say “i’ve always wondered what it would feel like if someone came in me,” he’s a damn goner.

“yeah?” he breathes, a hand resting on your thigh, your eyes unbelievably red.

“have you ever came inside someone?”

“uh,” he stutters. “in- in a condom, yeah.”

and you lick your lips, staring intently at him, your hand moving to his. “raw?”

which leads to him fucking you (after the longest and most sensual foreplay you’ve experienced in your life). he’s so soft and sweet, taking such good care of you - but deep, nearly enough to hurt. you don’t stop him, though - not when you can feel every vein and the warmth of his smooth shaft. the feeling is magnified from your weed fueled stupor. feels better than anything you’ve ever felt before.

steve looks so handsome from your point of view. he always has been, of course, but this feeling of lust for him is sort of new. “does it feel good?”

licking his lips, steve nods. “god, love it — always wanted - wanted to —“

he cuts himself short, biting his tongue. he has enough brain left in his head to know he shouldn’t talk about how much he wants to knock someone up. maybe even you, now that he thinks about it.

but his brain is gone in an instant when you clench down on him, your cunt gripping him like a vice. “oh f- shit, shit, shit — wanna cum in-inside this pretty pu-pussy, christ!”

“oh, do it!” you sound like it’s the best idea you’ve ever heard. “wanna feel it too, steve, c’mon.”

he shakes his head, swallowing hard. “c-can’t.” he’s begging, pleading at you with his pretty pussy-drunk brown eyes to stop saying that. he can’t bust inside of you, not raw, not during your first time together.

“it’s okay,” you pant. “be-because you’re my best friend, doesn’t - it doesn’t count. ‘s okay for us.”

the remnants of steve’s brain are in his dick and he can’t find any problems with your point.

[mywritersmind]

SAVIOR - LN4

summary : When y/n’s absent neighbor shows up, causing her great annoyance with smoke and repetitive beeping, she marches over to tell the man off but is met with a handsome face and strong hands that are in distress.

listen up : no warnings!! lando’s hands>>

word count : 631

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The sound won’t fucking stop.

I hadn't been worried before, just sitting back with my ice cream and gossip girl, until I smelt the smoke.

I groan, yeah sure there may be a fire but nothing is more important than the thanksgiving episode! I pull in a baggy off the shoulder shirt to cover my bra and walk out into the hall.

I slam my knuckle against the door. Who the fuck bakes at this time of night? I knock again and within seconds I hear feet pattering against the floor before the door clicks open.

I don’t mean to look surprised.

But when a hot man opens the door when I was expecting an old rich guy with a mistress, I raise a brow, “I’m so sorry!” He says quickly. There are oven mitts on his hands and I almost laugh because he looks like a cartoon character in distress.

“Are you okay?”

He is not, indeed, okay. As his body turns, I realize his kitchen is filling with smoke and something is still beeping. “I am so sorry!” He repeats again as I walk in.

I open the windows first, idiot. Then while coughing, I fiddle with the oven to make it shut up. I hear him audibly sigh behind me.

“You’re saving me here.” his smooth accent cuts through the burning smell.

I stand, “From a fire, yeah. Don’t really want my apartment building to burn down.” I shrug and take the mits right off his hands, placing them on my own and opening the smoke filled compartment.

I swat the air and hurriedly take out the pan. When I place it down on the counter, I laugh.

“I’m not a good baker, I know!” He crosses his arms.

“Cupcakes?” I smile, the smoke slowly leaving through the windows, “You don’t seem like the type. Especially at half past one.”

He shrugs and I finally take him in, with dark curls and stunning eyes, he’s got a familiar face. He's in pajamas of sorts, with bright orange slippers.

“Couldn’t pick a dinner option honestly…” He glances at the burnt baked goods, “I really appreciate it… I’d offer you something but- I don’t want to poison you.”

I smile and he looks proud that he made me do anything that’s not coughing, “Not a problem.”

A second passes before he speaks up, “I haven’t seen you around.” He says as I take the mits from my hands.

“Probably because you’re never around…?” It’s true. I love living on this floor because my neighbor is barely ever in. It is a bit strange now that I think about it.

He laughs, “Right. My work, and all…” okay mafia boss energy. Though his kind face and wall decor tells me differently.

I nod awkwardly, “Well… if you don’t need any more saving, I'm gonna go.”

“Of course! Thanks again. And if you ever need anything I'm here- I mean… I do owe you now.” I hand him the mits and as he grabs it my eyes stray to his hands.

Christ he’s fit. How have I never seen him before?

I look away from the veins and smile politely, “See you around…” I don’t know his name.

“Lando.” He smiles and the way his eyes meet mine makes my knees go soft.

“Y/n.” He shakes my hand, quite sternly might I add.

“Well Y/n… pleasure having you in my apartment and saving us from an evacuation.” He opens the door for me.

“Stay safe, Lando.” he winks.

NOTE : don’t forget that my requests are open!!

[loulou-land]

Love, Everywhere

Day 7 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Love Notes/Letters | 1,388 | ao3

Tommy finds the first note by accident—tucked into his jacket’s pocket as he’s getting ready to head out for work. He frowns, fingers brushing the crinkled edge of the pink sticky note and pulls it free. It’s scrawled in Evan’s messy, loopy handwriting: 

You look really hot in this jacket. Like, stupidly hot. Honestly, it’s a bit unfair ;p 

Tommy snorts, shaking his head, wondering what had made his boyfriend leave the note. But then again, Evan has always kept him on his toes. He folds the note up and tucks it into his wallet. 

The second note is waiting in his packed lunch, which Evan had made and wrapped with care, handing it to him this morning with a kiss and a be safe. 

A yummy and nutritious meal for my favorite guy <3 Because you deserve nice things and to be taken care of.   Ps. Do not eat the desert first! >:\ I’ll know if you do.

Tommy chuckles, rolling his eyes. But then he picks up the other container, curiosity getting the best of him, and he sees it's a slice of his favorite cheesecake. It takes all his self-control not to eat it before his lunch. 

He wouldn't put it past Evan to have spies at Harbor.  

“What’s so funny?” Lucy asks, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Tommy shakes his head and folds the note into his flight suit pocket. He feels warmth creep onto his cheeks, but his heart feels full.

 “Nothing,” he says, but his smile gives him away. 

—————————————————————

After that he finds them everywhere. 

He never knows what he’s going to come across. Some notes are flirty and absurd, some sweet and romantic, others just pure on brand Evan chaos. 

There’s one in his gym bag: 

Get those gains, baby! So you can fuck me up against the wall ;) 

Tommy groans, slapping a hand over his face. Jesus Christ, Evan. 

Suffice it to say, he doesn’t get much of a workout that day. Instead, he drives straight home to ‘punish’ his bratty boyfriend. 

He does go extra hard in his next gym session, though. Evan does have a point. 

*

One stuck to his bathroom mirror: 

Oh look! It's the most handsome and sexiest man I know. Thank you, my life has been better with you. Has been better since you :) 

Tommy sees his own reflection staring back at him, the soft, surprised tilt of his smile. The wonder sparkling in his eyes. 

He presses a hand to the note, fingers ghosting over the words. 

No, Evan. You're the one who's made everything better.  

*

The orange sticky note blinks brightly at him from atop his pillow: 

Are you my pillow? Cause I wanna give you head ;) 

Tommy groans, burying his face in his hands. That one might be the worst pickup line he's ever heard. 

However, when Evan joins him in bed that night, Tommy kisses him all over before laying on his back and letting Evan take him apart with that sweet, dorky and sinful mouth of his.  

*

At this point, he shouldn't be surprised by the placement of some notes. Still, he finds himself bewildered by the one in his medicine cabinet: 

Are you aspirin? Because I’d like to take you every 4-6 hours… 

Tommy shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Where do you keep finding these pickup lines?

*

There’s one on the inside of Evan’s blue hoodie, which Tommy has stolen for the third time this week: 

If you’re reading this, you’re probably stealing my hoodie again. Which is fine. Looks better on you anyways! Ps. Fair play, I have your favorite shirt :p 

Tommy laughs. Today, the hoodie feels even softer and warmer than usual. 

*

One day, he walks into the garage and feels something flutter to the ground when he flips the light switch. 

He bends down, picking up a blue sticky note that had been stuck to the switch: 

Hey baby, you must be a light switch, cuz every time I see you, you turn me on! 

“Evan,” he says exasperated. Menace, Tommy thinks fondly.

—————————————————————

After a while the notes start changing. 

There’s one waiting on his front door as he's leaving for work:  

I’ve never met anyone like you. You're one in a million Tommy. Sometimes, ‘I love you’ is not enough. Not when I love you so much more than that. More than words could ever express.  Be Safe. Yours, E.

Tommy pauses. 

His fingers brush over the sticky note, over the careful way Evan had written this one, as though making sure Tommy took each of the words in and understood them. 

His throat goes tight, something warm and aching curling up inside him. He takes the note gently, folds it, and places it in a wooden box on his bookshelf with all the others. 

He has to take a deep breath before he can step outside. 

*

Then, Tommy finds one stuck to his truck’s steering wheel: 

I know it’s hard for you to believe sometimes, but you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. I love you exactly as you are.

Tommy stares at it. 

The words settle deep, heavy in his chest, wrapping around that raw and vulnerable part inside of him.

He swallows, rereading the note through glassy eyes before carefully tucking it into his glove compartment—where he knows he’ll reach for it again. 

* 

Tommy has picked up the book he's been reading for the past week when a note flutters onto his lap. His heart races wondering what this one will say. 

I choose you and I’ll choose you over and over. Without hesitation, without a single doubt, in a heartbeat. I’ll keep choosing you.

Tommy exhales sharply. His fingers shake as he holds the note. He thinks how every note so far has broken him apart only to mend him back together. He thinks, An entire life loving this man will not be enough. 

In that moment, Tommy wishes for an eternity with Evan. 

*

There’s one hidden in the cockpit of the helicopter. 

He has no idea how Evan managed that one. 

But there it is, waiting for him when he climbs in for a routine check, stuck to the panel like it belongs there.  

I’m so proud of you, you know that. You amaze me every single day. I love you. 

He blinks rapidly, looking away for a second before glancing back at the note. Tommy doesn't remember the last time someone told him they were proud of him. 

For a second, he doesn't know what to do with all of this—with Evan’s love, constant and unrelenting. But the more he sits there, staring unblinkingly at the note, the more it settles within him. 

Tommy thinks he’s learning. How to let himself be loved. 

—————————————————————

Then, one night, Evan finds something waiting for him  

A folded letter, carefully placed on his pillow with a single sunflower beneath it, written in Tommy’s neat, precise handwriting:

For my sunshine,  Thank you, for seeing the parts of me I’ve never liked—the ugly and the shameful—and loving them anyway. For seeing me completely as I am and still wanting to keep me. For teaching me how to let myself be loved.  You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.  Evan, sweet, selfless, ridiculous Evan. I love you entirely and wholeheartedly.  Completely yours,  Tommy

Tommy is on the couch when suddenly there's a 200-pound man climbing onto his lap. It takes him a second to realize Evan is crying. His stomach drops.

“Baby, what's wrong?" He asks worriedly, running his hands up and down Evan’s back. 

Evan just shakes his head, clutching the letter like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “You love me.” His voice cracks, thick with emotion. 

Tommy’s confused. Because of course he loves Evan. He thinks he's been pretty clear on that. 

Then he realizes Evan is holding in his hands the letter he'd left him and softens. 

“Of course I love you sweetheart.” 

He gently wipes away the tears clinging to Evan’s lashes, tilts his head down for a forehead kiss, and pulls him close. Evan sighs, burying his face into Tommy’s neck, arms tightening around him. 

They stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. 

Tommy doesn't need to say anything else. 

Evan already knows.