#holding him up like a bottle of fine wine
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just-some-guy-joust · 10 months ago
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ijustmissyouraccenths · 14 days ago
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It’s You
Where Y/N’s chaotic energy clashes with her grumpy, tattooed neighbor, her mission to get on his good side turns into stolen glances, quiet moments, and a connection she never expected.
Au Harry
Word count: 13,395
Content warning: Cursing, smut, alcohol.
The warm glow of string lights illuminated Y/N’s cozy Los Angeles apartment as the sound of laughter filled the air. The small space was a mix of bohemian chic and personal touches—a gallery wall of polaroids, a cluttered coffee table covered with open bags of snacks, and a few empty wine bottles standing like trophies from their earlier indulgence.
Y/N flopped back onto the couch, a glass of red wine in hand, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and nonstop giggling. Her two best friends, Harper and Lila, sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking on popcorn and chips, fully embracing the childlike joy of their adult sleepover.
“This feels so right,” Y/N said, her voice slightly tipsy. “Why don’t we do this more often?”
“Because we’re responsible adults now, remember?” Harper teased, adjusting her oversized hoodie. “Nine-to-five, bills, and pretending we know what we’re doing.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lila quipped, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “I’m thriving in my chaos era.”
Y/N snorted, and Harper rolled her eyes with an affectionate grin. Lila was the wild card of the group, always coming up with unpredictable ideas. And she didn’t disappoint tonight.
“You know what we should do?” Lila suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Karaoke.”
“Yes!” Harper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, yes. Do you still have that mic we bought for New Year’s Eve?”
Y/N groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her fake reluctance. “You mean the mic that nearly got us evicted? Of course, I still have it.”
Lila grinned wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s wake up the entire building with our stunning renditions of 2000s throwbacks.”
Without waiting for further approval, Lila dashed to the hall closet and pulled out the karaoke mic, triumphantly waving it in the air. Harper grabbed her phone, already scrolling through a playlist.
“You’re starting,” Harper declared, pointing the mic at Y/N.
“What? No!” Y/N laughed, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m not ready!”
“Too bad,” Lila said, shoving the mic into Y/N’s hands. “You can’t escape destiny. Pick your song.”
Y/N sighed theatrically before smirking. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when your ears bleed.”
As Y/N queued up Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, the room erupted in cheers. The first few notes played, and soon enough, Y/N was belting out the lyrics with unrestrained enthusiasm, her friends joining in for the chorus. It didn’t matter that they were slightly off-key; in that moment, they were superstars in their own private concert.
Wine glasses were forgotten, snacks spilled, and every lyric was sung at full volume. It was the kind of night they’d remember for years—a reminder that no matter how grown-up they pretended to be, some things never lost their magic.
The girls were in full swing, harmonizing (poorly) to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Lila stood on the couch holding the mic as if she were performing at Madison Square Garden, while Harper played air guitar with a half-empty wine bottle. Y/N was doubled over in laughter, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.
Just as they hit the iconic, “Tell me why—” part, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through their drunken fun like a record scratch. The girls froze, their voices trailing off mid-note. Y/N straightened up, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Harper and Lila.
“Uh… did someone order pizza?” Lila whispered, her voice unsure.
“Nope,” Y/N said, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”
With a mix of nerves and annoyance, Y/N padded to the door. She peered through the peephole and groaned. It was her new neighbor, Harry. She’d only exchanged a polite “hello” with him in passing, but he’d already struck her as the brooding, grumpy type.
Bracing herself, she opened the door.
There he stood: tall, disheveled hair pushed back in a lazy attempt at taming it, wearing a faded gray hoodie and black joggers. His sharp green eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed face and the muffled chaos behind her.
“Good evening,” he started, his British accent dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying your concert tonight. It’s like living next door to a live music venue. Only… worse.”
Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by his dry humor. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that. We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”
Harry crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I figured. Thought I’d come over before I lost the ability to hear entirely.”
From behind her, Lila’s voice chimed in drunkenly. “Is it a noise complaint? Tell him to sing with us!”
Y/N turned and shot Lila a glare. Harper muffled a laugh.
Y/N sighed and looked back at Harry. “We’ll keep it down. Promise.”
He tilted his head, lips twitching into the faintest smirk, though his tone remained gruff. “Appreciated. Just… try not to turn it into a full-on festival.”
With that, he turned to leave, but Y/N couldn’t help herself. “You know, you could’ve just sent a passive-aggressive text or something.”
Harry glanced back over his shoulder, one brow arched. “I thought this had more impact.”
And then he was gone.
Y/N closed the door, leaning her forehead against it for a moment. When she turned around, Lila and Harper were staring at her like she’d just walked off the set of a rom-com.
“Um, who was that?” Lila asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Harry. My new neighbor,” Y/N replied, walking back to the couch.
“And Mr. Grumpy Pants is cute,” Harper added, grinning.
Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute and cranky. Now can we please move on before you two start planning a love story?”
But the mischievous glint in her friends’ eyes told her they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.
The karaoke mic had been put away, and the girls now lounged in the cozy living room, passing a bottle of wine between them. The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed, but the energy was still warm and lively. Lila was sprawled on the couch with her legs dangling over Harper’s lap, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from her glass.
“I mean, let’s just talk about him for a second,” Lila began, her voice dramatic. “The mopey neighbor with the accent? And did you see those tattoos? They were peeking out, Y/N. He’s giving mysterious bad boy energy.”
Y/N groaned, her cheeks warming instantly. “Oh my God, Lila. He was literally just here to tell us to shut up.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Harper chimed in, grinning. “He has that whole ‘I’m grumpy but secretly charming’ vibe. Like, did you see the way he smirked when he made that little joke?”
Y/N tried to hide her flustered reaction by taking another sip of wine, but she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. She’d noticed too—his smirk, his sharp jawline, the tattoos curling up his forearm, just barely visible under his hoodie sleeves. She’d noticed everything.
“I mean, he’s okay, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, keeping her tone nonchalant.
“Okay?” Lila shot up, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re lying. You’re the worst liar ever.”
“Shut up,” Y/N said, laughing as she buried her face in her hands. “Fine, he’s cute. So what? He’s also my neighbor, and he’s probably annoyed with me forever now.”
“He’s not annoyed,” Harper said, nudging her with her foot. “If he were, he wouldn’t have made the effort to come over himself. He would’ve sent an email to management or something. He wanted an excuse to see you.”
“Right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Because nothing’s more attractive than a drunk girl singing Backstreet Boys at full volume.”
“Exactly!” Lila exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “You’re memorable. He’ll never forget you now.”
Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Harper said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I bet he thinks you’re cute too.”
Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly changed the subject. But as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the image of Harry standing in her doorway, his messy hair, his smirk, and those tattoos. Maybe her friends weren’t entirely wrong.
The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Y/N’s apartment, illuminating the chaos left behind from the night before. Wine glasses, half-eaten snacks, and the abandoned karaoke mic were scattered around the living room. The girls were tangled up in blankets, sprawled across the couch and the floor like a scene from a sitcom.
Y/N was the first to stir, groaning as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Harper was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow over her head, while Lila lay on the floor in a makeshift nest of cushions, one arm dramatically draped over her face.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Y/N teased, nudging Lila with her foot.
Lila groaned. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal to be this alive right now.”
Harper peeked out from under her pillow, her voice muffled. “What time is it? Do we even have the energy to exist today?”
“Barely,” Y/N replied, standing and stretching. “But I’m starving, so I’m making breakfast. Come help me.”
Harper and Lila grumbled but eventually dragged themselves up and into the kitchen, where Y/N was already cracking eggs into a bowl. Together, they whipped up a chaotic but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mountain of coffee.
The girls sat around the small dining table, eating in comfortable silence at first. Then Lila broke the quiet with a wicked grin.
“So… Harry.”
“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Not again.”
“Listen, I was just thinking,” Lila said, smirking. “Next time we do this, we should make it even louder. Really make him come back over.”
Harper snorted into her coffee. “Yes! Like, full-blown karaoke night but with amps and disco lights.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are the worst.”
“But you love us,” Harper said, nudging her with an elbow.
After breakfast, the girls cleaned up and packed their things before heading out. Harper hugged Y/N tightly. “We definitely need to do this again.”
Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Louder next time. You know, for research purposes.”
Y/N shook her head, laughing as she walked them to the door. “You’re both insane, but I love you. Drive safe.”
Once they were gone, Y/N flopped onto the couch and opened their group chat. Almost immediately, messages started flooding in.
Lila: Next sleepover, let’s bring a fog machine. If Harry shows up, we’ll just act like it’s a concert.
Harper: Or we could rent a spotlight. Make it an event
Y/N: You guys are unbelievable. No more wine for you next time.
Lila: Admit it, you want him to show up again.
Y/N: …maybe.
Harper: KNEW IT.
Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her phone, her cheeks warming yet again. As ridiculous as her friends were, they weren’t entirely wrong.
The day passed in a blur of cleaning and tidying as Y/N tried to get her apartment back to its usual organized state. By the time the sun started to dip low in the sky, the chaos from the night before had been erased, leaving her apartment looking like a picture of calm domesticity. Feeling accomplished, Y/N decided to check her mailbox before settling in for a quiet evening.
She padded down to the mailroom in her building, dressed in a casual but presentable outfit—high-waisted jeans and a simple white top. As she rifled through the usual junk mail and a couple of bills, the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention.
Glancing to the side, she saw Harry walking in, his hoodie replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His tattoos were on full display now—intricate designs that wound up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. He barely glanced at her as he moved to his mailbox, unlocking it with practiced ease.
Y/N swallowed her nerves and decided to seize the moment. It was better to make a proper introduction now than to let the awkwardness from last night linger. Turning slightly toward him, she cleared her throat.
“Hey, neighbor,” she began, keeping her tone light. “Figured I should introduce myself officially now that I’m not, you know, half-drunk and screaming karaoke at midnight. I’m Y/N.”
Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, as he gave her a quick once-over. “Harry,” he said simply, his voice low and clipped.
Y/N bit back a grin, determined not to let his gruff demeanor throw her off. “Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry again about last night. I promise we don’t usually host impromptu concerts. Unless, of course, you’re a fan of boy band throwbacks.”
Harry let out a soft exhale that could’ve been a laugh—or just a sigh. “I’ll survive.”
Encouraged by the hint of amusement, Y/N decided to keep the conversation going. “You know, if you’re ever feeling nostalgic, you’re welcome to join us. We could use a fourth member for our extremely off-key girl group.”
Harry’s lips twitched slightly, but his expression remained mostly stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Y/N tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “You’re really hard to read, you know that? Most people at least chuckle at my jokes.”
Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and calm. “Maybe I’m just not most people.”
For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. There was something almost challenging in his tone, but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it piqued her curiosity even more.
“Well, Harry,” she said finally, flashing him a bright smile. “Challenge accepted. I’ll make you laugh one of these days.”
He didn’t respond right away, instead closing his mailbox and tucking the letters under his arm. As he moved to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.
“We’ll see about that.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her stack of mail and a strange mix of frustration and intrigue swirling in her chest. One thing was for sure—Harry might be grumpy, but he was far from boring.
As soon as Y/N got back to her apartment, she tossed her mail onto the counter and grabbed her phone, already smirking to herself. She opened the group chat with Harper and Lila, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
Y/N:
Guess who I just ran into in the mailroom?
It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with replies.
Lila:
Was it… oh, I don’t know… Mr. Grumpy Hot Neighbor?
Harper:
Harry! Tell us everything right now.
Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, typing out her reply.
Y/N:
Yes, it was Harry. I introduced myself properly. You know, as a fully functional adult and not a drunken mess.
Lila:
And? Did he swoon? Did he drop all his mail and propose on the spot?
Harper:
Or at least crack a smile?
Y/N sighed and leaned back against the counter, smirking to herself as she typed.
Y/N:
Absolutely not. He was… well, Harry. Polite but distant. He might’ve almost smiled, but I can’t be sure.
Lila:
Ugh, he’s really sticking to the mysterious moody thing. It’s so hot. What did you say to him?
Y/N:
I told him he was hard to read and said I’d make him laugh one day.
Harper:
Bold move, I love it. What did he say?
Y/N:
He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’
Lila:
STOP. That’s basically flirting.
Harper:
Right? That’s flirty! Subtle, broody flirting.
Y/N:
You two are ridiculous. It wasn’t flirting. He’s just… like that.
Lila:
Y/N, this is your rom-com moment, and you’re living in denial. Grumpy guy + sunshine girl is literally a trope for a reason.
Harper:
Exactly. Next step: get him to join us for karaoke.
Y/N:
Oh, sure, because he definitely seems like the kind of guy who wants to sing ‘Toxic’ with us.
Lila:
You never know. Maybe he has a secret karaoke voice that’ll blow us all away.
Y/N laughed to herself, shaking her head. Her friends were relentless, but she couldn’t deny that their enthusiasm made her smile. As much as she tried to brush off the encounter, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head—the way Harry’s green eyes lingered just a second too long, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. 
It had been a couple of weeks since Y/N’s encounter with Harry in the mailroom, and she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind. Between work, friends, and her usual routine, she hadn’t bumped into him in the halls or around the building. Life went on, and the memory of his grumpy smirk became just another amusing anecdote to share with Harper and Lila.
Until one night.
Y/N was jolted awake by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Disoriented and groggy, she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over her pajama tank top. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door. The hallway was chaotic, filled with neighbors in various states of sleepiness and confusion, all heading for the exits.
Once outside, Y/N joined the crowd of residents gathering on the sidewalk. The chilly night air bit at her skin, and she crossed her arms to keep warm. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone she knew—until her eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.
It was Harry. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and he wore a hoodie over loose sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. His expression was pure exhaustion, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned.
Y/N didn’t hesitate. She made her way over, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.
Harry turned his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “This is… unexpected.” He waved his hand around. 
She grinned, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But hey, at least it’s the fire alarms being obnoxiously loud this time and not me.”
Harry’s lips twitched, and for a second, she thought she’d finally gotten him to crack a smile. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked dryly.
“Never,” Y/N replied, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s too good of a story.”
Harry exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”
They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a fire truck pulled up and a couple of firefighters headed inside to investigate. The air was crisp and carried a faint chill, but Y/N barely noticed. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.
“Do you think it’s an actual fire?” she asked.
“Doubt it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Probably just someone burning their midnight snack.”
“Sounds like a riveting Saturday night,” Y/N joked, earning another small exhale from him.
“Tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing down at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, and Y/N could feel her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it cool.
“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “If it turns out to be a drill, I’m demanding a formal apology from management for ruining my beauty sleep.”
Harry’s lips quirked, just enough for her to notice. “I’m sure they’ll get right on that.”
For the first time, standing outside in the middle of the night with Harry didn’t feel awkward or forced. It was easy, natural even, despite his perpetually tired and broody demeanor. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe her persistence was finally wearing him down.
Before either of them could say more, a firefighter emerged from the building, shouting to the crowd that it was a false alarm. People groaned, some laughing as they shuffled back toward the entrance.
Harry pushed off the lamppost and looked at Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue.”
“Looks like it,” she said. “Catch you later, Harry.”
He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Night, Y/N.”
As she headed back to her apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction. Sure, he was still grumpy, but she was getting closer to breaking through. And honestly, she didn’t mind the challenge.
By the time Y/N woke up the next morning, she had already drafted the text she knew Harper and Lila would demand. Still half-asleep, she grabbed her phone and opened their group chat, typing out the full story in detail.
Y/N:
So… guess who I bumped into at 3 a.m. when the fire alarm went off?
It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with rapid-fire responses.
Harper:
Oh my God. HARRY?
Lila:
Please tell me you were both standing there in your PJs like the meet-cute of the century.
Y/N:
 No, it wasn’t a meet-cute. We just talked. Very normal. Nothing groundbreaking.
Harper:
What did you talk about?
Y/N:
I made a joke about how this time it wasn’t me being loud, it was the fire alarm.
Lila:
YES. Classic Y/N. What did he say?
Y/N:
He just… smirked. Or sighed. I’m honestly not sure anymore. He’s so hard to read.
Harper:
Smirking counts as flirting. I’m logging it.
Lila:
Definitely flirting. He wouldn’t have smirked if he wasn’t secretly interested. Men don’t waste smirks on people they don’t like.
Y/N:
Or he was just tired and didn’t care enough to argue.
Harper:
Nope. Not buying it. He’s interested. He’s just grumpy interested.
Lila:
Exactly! Brooding types like him don’t wear their feelings on their sleeves, but trust me, he’s intrigued. You just need to keep working on him.
Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.
Y/N:
You two are absolutely ridiculous. We talked for five minutes, tops. Nothing more, nothing less.
Harper:
Sure, keep telling yourself that.
Lila:
Face it, Y/N. This is your slow-burn romance, and we are here for it. We’re already planning the playlist for your wedding.
Y/N:
Oh my God. I can’t with you two.
Despite her protests, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind—the way his eyes lingered on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Harper and Lila were reading too much into it… weren’t they?
Shaking her head, Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She had no intention of indulging their wild theories. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her couldn’t help but wonder. 
Y/N lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows cast by her bedside lamp on the ceiling. The city sounds outside her window were faint but constant—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of voices. She’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, her brain refusing to shut off.
It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was Harry.
It wasn’t intentional, or at least that’s what she told herself. She’d been trying to push him out of her mind all day, but now, in the stillness of the night, his image seemed to surface unbidden. The way his messy hair stuck out when she’d seen him by the mailboxes. The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, the intricate designs winding across his arms like a story she desperately wanted to read.
And then there was his face—sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to pierce through her defenses, and that faint smirk he’d given her last night when she’d cracked her fire alarm joke. It wasn’t a full smile, but it had been enough to spark something in her. Something she couldn’t quite shake.
She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.
But it was no use. She kept thinking about the way his voice sounded—low, calm, almost soothing in its quiet confidence. The way he seemed perpetually unimpressed but not unkind, like he was holding back a part of himself from the world. And the way, despite all that grumpiness, she felt drawn to him.
The worst part was that she barely even knew him. A few brief encounters, a handful of words exchanged—it wasn’t enough to warrant this level of overthinking. And yet, here she was, wide awake at 2 a.m., her thoughts spinning in circles around a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her at all.
She sighed, flipping onto her back again and staring at the ceiling. “You’re losing it, Y/N,” she whispered into the dark.
But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself—counting sheep, replaying her favorite movie in her head, anything—her mind kept drifting back to Harry. How frustratingly attractive he was. How much she wanted to figure him out. And how, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she kind of liked the challenge.
The next afternoon, Y/N tied her apron around her waist and stepped onto the floor of the bustling Italian restaurant where she worked. The warm scent of garlic, fresh basil, and baking bread filled the air as the sounds of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations hummed around her. It was her favorite kind of shift—steady but not overwhelming, just busy enough to keep her energized.
She loved being a server. There was something satisfying about knowing the menu by heart, from the way the chef perfectly folded the handmade ravioli to the rich, velvety tiramisu that always left customers raving. She enjoyed the rhythm of it all: taking orders, making guests laugh, weaving between tables like she was part of a well-rehearsed dance.
By the time her shift ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets. Y/N slipped her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her coworkers, and began her short walk home.
The evening was warm, the kind of weather that made her glad she’d chosen this neighborhood to live in. She liked the convenience of being close to work, the charm of the old brick buildings, and the occasional vendor selling flowers or roasted nuts on the sidewalk.
But as she rounded the last corner toward her apartment building, the sky darkened suddenly. Heavy clouds rolled in overhead, and before she could process what was happening, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.
“Seriously?” Y/N muttered, looking up at the sky as if it might offer her an explanation. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a full-on downpour. She didn’t have an umbrella, of course—it had been sunny when she left for work—and now she was too far from the restaurant to go back.
She quickened her pace, pulling her bag closer to her body to shield it from the rain. Her hair was already plastered to her forehead, and her clothes clung to her as the rain soaked through. She groaned in frustration but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.
By the time her apartment building came into view, she was drenched. She jogged the last stretch, her sneakers splashing in puddles, and darted toward the lobby entrance. As she reached for the door, it opened from the inside—and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry.
Of course, it was Harry.
He was holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, taking in her rain-soaked appearance.
“Rough night?” he asked, his voice dry but laced with faint amusement.
Y/N brushed a wet strand of hair out of her face, shaking water from her arms. “You could say that. Apparently, the weather decided I needed a shower.”
Harry stepped back, holding the door open for her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”
“Thanks for the observation,” Y/N said with a wry smile as she stepped inside, water pooling around her feet. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded toward the elevators. “You should probably get upstairs before you flood the lobby.”
“Wow, you’re so thoughtful,” she teased, her sarcasm barely masking the warmth in her voice.
Harry didn’t reply, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a comment. He stepped aside, letting her pass, and as Y/N headed toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. He was still standing by the door, his attention now on the rain outside, but she could’ve sworn she caught him sneaking a glance at her as she walked away.
Y/N stepped into her apartment, water dripping onto the floor as she kicked off her soaked sneakers. She stripped off her rain-soaked clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was bliss, washing away the chill of the rain and the lingering frustration of getting caught in it. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin was warm and her mind was clearer.
Slipping into her favorite pair of soft pajamas—shorts and an oversized t-shirt—she towel-dried her hair and grabbed her phone from the counter. She hadn’t checked it since leaving work, and the screen lit up with a few notifications. Most were unimportant, but one text made her freeze.
Unknown Number:
Hey, it’s Harry. Got your number from the resident book. Hope that’s okay. I, uh, ordered way too much food. If you’re not busy and don’t mind eating with someone who’s terrible at small talk, you’re welcome to join me.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry had texted her? She stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times, unsure what to make of it. The grumpy, brooding neighbor had gone out of his way to invite her over for dinner?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say. She could easily come up with an excuse, blame the rain, or even politely decline. But something about his message—how he’d gone through the trouble of looking up her number and even made a self-deprecating joke—made her hesitate.
Finally, she started typing.
Y/N:
Hey! I’m surprised you didn’t mention how loud I was running through the lobby earlier. I’d love to join, but fair warning: I’m in my pajamas. I’ll bring wine to make up for it.
She hit send before she could second-guess herself and immediately got up to rummage through her small wine rack. She picked out a bottle of red, grabbed her favorite corkscrew, and texted him again.
Y/N:
Give me five minutes to make myself look less like a wet dog.
His response came almost instantly.
Harry:
I wouldn’t have said anything about the lobby, but now that you’ve brought it up… five minutes works. Apartment 4D.
Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. She quickly towel-dried her hair a little more, tossed it into a loose bun, and grabbed the wine. As she stood by her door, nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she pushed them aside.
Whatever this was—neighborly dinner, an olive branch, or something else—she was curious enough to find out.
Y/N stepped out of her apartment, the bottle of wine in hand, and made her way to the elevator. As she descended a floor, her nerves started to tingle, though she shook them off. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner with her neighbor. Her very attractive, grumpy neighbor with tattoos and a British accent. Nothing to overthink at all.
When she reached Harry’s door, she raised her hand to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Harry stood there, leaning casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised.
“I could hear you coming down the hall,” he said, his tone dry but his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
Y/N let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re happy to see me.”
“Something like that,” he replied, stepping aside to let her in.
Y/N walked in, glancing around as she entered. Harry’s apartment was similar in layout to hers but had an entirely different vibe. The walls were painted a deep, moody gray, with shelves lined with books, records, and a few small plants that looked suspiciously well cared for. A guitar rested in the corner by the window, and the faint smell of takeout wafted from the small kitchen.
“Nice place,” she said, setting the wine on the counter. “Very… broody chic. Fits you.”
Harry arched a brow as he closed the door. “Broody chic? Is that a compliment?”
“Depends how you take it,” Y/N shot back with a grin.
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he moved toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I may have overestimated how much I can eat on my own.”
She followed him, glancing at the spread on the counter. There were containers of what looked like Thai food—pad thai, green curry, fried rice, and spring rolls. Definitely enough for two, if not three.
“You weren’t kidding,” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “Planning on feeding the whole building?”
“Only the loudest resident,” he said, smirking again.
She gave him a playful glare before grabbing plates from the counter and handing him one. “Lucky for you, I came prepared,” she said, holding up the wine. “This should balance things out.”
As they settled at the small table, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Harry seemed. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something softer about him tonight. Less guarded. And as they started eating, trading sarcastic comments and occasional small talk, she realized she didn’t mind the challenge of cracking through his tough exterior one bit.
Harry handed Y/N two wine glasses, their fingers brushing briefly as she took them. He didn’t say anything, but his lips moved slightly as if he was trying not to smirk. Y/N poured the wine, filling each glass just enough before sliding one over to him.
Meanwhile, he plated the food, carefully dividing the dishes between two plates. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, and Y/N found herself watching him for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking herself out of it, she grabbed her glass and followed him to the bar counter.
They sat side by side, the warm glow of the pendant light above them casting a cozy atmosphere. Y/N took a sip of her wine, her gaze flicking to Harry as he started eating in silence.
For a while, she stayed quiet, enjoying the food and the unspoken rhythm of their shared meal. But her curiosity got the better of her. Setting her glass down, she turned toward him slightly, resting her elbow on the counter.
“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “why are you always so grumpy?”
Harry paused mid-bite, his fork hovering over his plate as he looked at her. His green eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but as if he were trying to decide how serious she was.
“Grumpy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, grumpy,” she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You know, the whole emo, barely-smiling, ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense’ vibe you’ve got going on. Is it like… your thing?”
Harry leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his wine as he considered her question. “Maybe I’m not grumpy,” he said finally, his voice calm. “Maybe you’re just too… cheerful.”
“Cheerful?” she echoed, laughing softly. “That’s your explanation? I’m cheerful, so that automatically makes you grumpy?”
“Something like that,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.
Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re deflecting.”
He raised his glass, meeting her gaze over the rim as he took another sip. “Maybe.”
“Come on,” she pressed, leaning in slightly. “There’s got to be a reason. I mean, you’re not actuallymiserable all the time, are you?”
Harry sighed, setting his glass down and leaning his forearms on the counter. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he shrugged.
“I’m not grumpy,” he said, his voice quieter. “I just… don’t see the point in pretending all the time. People put on this front like everything’s great, but most of the time, it’s not. I’m just… honest about it.”
Y/N tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something unspoken but heavy, like he was revealing more than he intended.
“Well,” she said softly, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think being happy is the same as pretending. And I’m not pretending.”
Harry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply.
Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Y/N picked up her glass and raised it toward him.
“To being honest,” she said with a small smile.
Harry’s eyes flicked to her glass before he picked up his own, clinking it against hers. “To being honest,” he echoed.
And for the first time that evening, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.
Harry swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the deep red liquid for a moment before setting it down and looking at Y/N. His expression was more open now, his usual guarded demeanor softened.
“You seem nice enough,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I could use a friend around here.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Then a warm smile spread across her face.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” she said, her voice light with humor. “I thought for sure you hated me after the whole karaoke fiasco.”
Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in amusement. “Hated you? No. Annoyed, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.”
“Good to know,” Y/N said, laughing softly. “Because I was convinced you’d written me off as the world’s loudest neighbor.”
“I’ll admit,” Harry said, smirking now, “the karaoke was… a lot. But it’s hard to hate someone who sings ‘I Want It That Way’ with that much enthusiasm.”
Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing harder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember the song. That’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s unforgettable,” he said with mock seriousness, taking another sip of wine.
When her laughter died down, Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I’d be happy to be your friend. You don’t seem as scary as you pretend to be.”
“Scary?” Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, yeah,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘grumpy lone wolf’ thing going on. It’s a little intimidating.”
Harry shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not scary.”
“No,” Y/N said, grinning. “You’re not. You’re just… Harry.”
He didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he nodded, his tone soft but certain. “Yeah. Just Harry.”
As they continued eating, the conversation grew lighter, the initial tension between them fading into something comfortable. By the time they finished their meal, Y/N realized that beneath Harry’s gruff exterior was someone she genuinely wanted to know better. And judging by the way his smirk had softened into something warmer, she suspected he felt the same.
After finishing their plates, Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his forearm on the bar counter as he glanced at Y/N. There was a comfortable silence between them, one she hadn’t expected when she first showed up at his door.
“Thanks for coming over,” he said finally, his tone quieter but sincere. “I don’t usually… do this.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, swirling her wine in her glass. “What? Order too much food or invite people over?”
He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “The second one. I’m not exactly the ‘neighborly dinner’ type.”
“Well, I feel special then,” she teased, tilting her head at him. “Although, if you’re not usually this social, why’d you invite me? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”
Harry shrugged, glancing down at his glass. “You seemed… different. I don’t know. Most people I meet just seem fake, like they’re putting on a show. But you’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Real.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words. “Oh,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, thanks. I think.”
“I mean it,” Harry added, looking at her directly now. “You’re… not what I expected when I moved here. In a good way.”
Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she tried to play it off with humor. “Careful, Harry. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”
“Don’t push it,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes were softer than usual.
They fell into another comfortable silence, sipping their wine and letting the moment stretch out. Y/N felt herself relax more with each passing second, realizing how easy it was to be around him now that some of his walls had come down.
After a moment, she broke the quiet. “You know, for someone who claims not to be social, you’re pretty good company.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is,” she said, her grin widening. “You should let yourself be social more often. You might surprise yourself.”
He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “One step at a time.”
They shared a small laugh, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point. Whatever Harry had been holding back before, he was letting her in now, even if only a little. It felt… nice.
Eventually, she glanced at her phone and realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably head back,” she said, setting her empty wine glass down. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”
Harry stood as she got up, shaking his head. “You haven’t. But… thanks for coming. I mean it.”
She smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Anytime, Harry.”
As she walked to the door, he followed her, leaning casually against the frame as she turned back to face him. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.
“Goodnight,” she said, her voice lighter now.
“Night, Y/N,” he replied, his smirk returning.
She headed back to her apartment, her heart unexpectedly lighter. Maybe Harry wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed—or maybe she was just getting used to it. Either way, she found herself smiling as she closed her door behind her. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overthinking anything.
The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight filtering through her blinds and a faint smile lingering on her lips. The night before with Harry had been… unexpected, but not in a bad way. She stretched, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately opened her group chat with Harper and Lila.
Y/N:
So, guess what? Harry invited me over for dinner last night.
It didn’t take long for her phone to explode with notifications.
Lila:
WHAT. DETAILS NOW.
Harper:
DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!
Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite being alone.
Y/N:
No, I didn’t sleep with him. Calm down.
Lila:
Boring. But continue.
Harper:
Okay, but like, did it feel like it was going there?
Y/N:
No! It wasn’t like that. He said he had too much food and could use a friend, so I brought wine, and we had dinner. That’s it.
Lila:
You brought wine. That’s a date move.
Harper:
Right? Totally a date.
Y/N:
It wasn’t a date. We ate at his bar counter, talked a little, and that’s all. But…
Lila:
BUT WHAT?!
Harper:
Spill, Y/N. Don’t make us beg.
Y/N sighed, biting her lip as she typed out her next message.
Y/N:
Okay, fine. I wouldn’t mind if something happened, but it’s not like I know much about him. I don’t even know what he does for work.
Lila:
Oh my God. You want to bang the mysterious, tattooed neighbor. I KNEW IT.
Harper:
This is your grumpy/sunshine romance, and we are living for it.
Y/N:
You two are ridiculous. I’m just saying he’s attractive, okay? That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.
Lila:
It’ll happen. The sexual tension alone is probably unbearable.
Harper:
Agreed. You just need to ask him questions about himself. What he does for work, what his favorite food is, if he’s single—
Lila:
Definitely ask the last one. For research purposes.
Y/N groaned, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.
Y/N:
You two are impossible. But fine, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll try to find out more about him. Happy?
Harper:
Ecstatic.
Lila:
Can’t wait to hear how this unfolds. We’re already planning the wedding playlist.
Y/N laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. Her friends were relentless, but they weren’t wrong about one thing—she was curious about Harry. And as much as she tried to deny it, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… or seeing where this strange connection between them might lead.
Later that month Y/N walked into her apartment after a long day, expecting the usual cozy warmth to greet her. Instead, an icy chill hit her the moment she stepped inside. She frowned, rubbing her arms and heading straight for the thermostat. She fiddled with it for a minute, but no matter what she did, the heater refused to turn on.
“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t unbearably cold outside, but inside her apartment, it felt like a freezer.
With no other options, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t know many people in the building—just Harry, really. And as much as she hesitated, her fingers hovered over his name before she finally sent a text.
Y/N:
Hey, random question. Do you happen to have a small heater or something I can borrow? My heater’s broken, and it’s freezing in here.
A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Harry:
Why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve got heat, and I don’t own a portable heater.
Y/N stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Borrowing something was one thing, but staying at his place? She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Before she could overthink it, she typed out a response.
Y/N:
Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.
His reply was quick.
Harry:
You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s better than you freezing to death in your apartment. Bring whatever you need.
She bit her lip, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in her chest. Finally, she grabbed a bag and threw in some essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a few other things—before bundling up and heading out.
When she reached his door, she knocked softly. It opened almost immediately, and there was Harry, leaning against the frame with his usual calm demeanor.
“Figured you’d take me up on the offer,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.
“Yeah, well, hypothermia didn’t sound appealing,” Y/N replied with a small smile, brushing past him into the warmth of his apartment.
As she set her bag down by the couch, she glanced at him. “Thanks for this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”
He shrugged, closing the door. “No problem. It’s just one night.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, Harry. That almost sounded like you’re happy to have me here.”
He gave her a dry look but didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “You can take the couch if you want, or I can grab some extra blankets for the guest room.”
She looked at the couch, then back at him. “Guest room? You have a guest room?”
“Barely,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more of a storage room, but there’s a bed in there.”
“Well, as long as it’s warmer than my apartment, I’ll take it.”
Harry nodded, heading toward the hallway. “I’ll grab some blankets.”
As Harry disappeared down the hallway to grab blankets, Y/N called after him, her voice light and teasing. “By the way, I brought some wine as a thank-you! You know, for saving me from my frozen wasteland of an apartment.”
She heard him chuckle faintly, his voice drifting back from the other room. “Thoughtful of you. What kind?”
“Red. A classic, nothing too fancy,” she replied, smirking as she started to take the bottle out of her bag. “Figured you’d prefer something a little understated, given your whole ‘mysterious and broody’ vibe.”
Harry reappeared in the doorway, carrying a thick blanket over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you enjoy calling me broody a little too much.”
“Well, it fits,” she shot back, grinning. “Speaking of which, I realized something earlier—I don’t even know what you do for work. So, enlighten me, oh mysterious one. What is it that you do?”
Harry paused for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I own an art gallery,” he said simply, setting the blanket on the couch.
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You own an art gallery?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Small place over in Silver Lake. Nothing flashy, just local artists and smaller exhibitions.”
She stared at him, her curiosity piqued. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“What did you see coming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, laughing softly. “Something more… I don’t know, corporate? Like sitting at a desk all day and brooding at spreadsheets.”
Harry actually laughed at that, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “Sorry to disappoint. No spreadsheets involved.”
“No, it’s not disappointing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just… unexpected. I mean, you own an art gallery. That’s cool. Artistic and grumpy? You’re full of surprises, Harry.”
He shook his head, but there was a faint warmth in his expression, like her enthusiasm had caught him off guard. “It’s just a business.”
“Just a business?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. That’s impressive.”
He looked at her for a moment, his gaze steady. “Thanks.”
They fell into a brief silence, and Y/N felt the air shift slightly. It wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt… comfortable. She gestured to the wine. “So, should we open this or what?”
Harry nodded, stepping into the kitchen to grab two glasses. “Why not? You’re my guest, after all.”
As he poured the wine, Y/N couldn’t help but think that for someone who seemed so guarded at first, Harry was slowly becoming an open book—one she was eager to keep reading.
Y/N leaned against the counter, swirling her glass of wine as she watched Harry pour his own. “So, how did you end up owning an art gallery?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean, that’s not exactly the most common career path.”
Harry took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful as he set the glass down. “I’ve always loved art. Painting, sketching… that sort of thing. But it’s not exactly the easiest way to make a living.”
Y/N nodded, understanding the struggle. “So, the gallery was a way to stay involved in the art world?”
“Something like that,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “I came into some money after my mom passed a few years ago. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to make me think about what I really wanted to do. I didn’t want to sit in an office or work for someone else. I wanted something that felt… personal. The gallery felt like the right choice.”
“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I mean, turning something you love into a business? Not many people can say they’ve done that.”
Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “It has its challenges, but I don’t regret it.”
Y/N smiled at him, feeling a new layer of respect for her neighbor. After a moment, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her. “What about you? What do you do?”
She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, nothing nearly as impressive as you,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just a server. I work at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from here.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?” she asked, frowning.
“Like it’s nothing. You said you’re ‘just’ a server,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re in food service, right? That’s an art in itself. Just… a different kind.”
She blinked, caught off guard by his perspective. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”
He nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Think about it. You’re part of creating an experience for people. The way the food’s presented, the way you interact with customers—it’s all part of the artistry. Doesn’t matter if it’s a painting on a wall or a plate of pasta. It’s still something people connect with.”
Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over her. “That’s… actually really nice of you to say.”
“It’s true,” Harry said simply, his green eyes meeting hers. “Stop selling yourself short.”
She smiled, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone complains about their breadsticks not being warm enough.”
He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Breadsticks or not, it sounds like you’re good at what you do.”
Y/N sipped her wine, the corners of her lips curving up. 
Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, glancing at Harry over the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the conversation a little further. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “you have a really nice way of thinking about things. The way you look at art, even food… it’s kind of impressive.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Is that your way of saying I’m not just a grumpy neighbor?”
“Maybe,” she said with a small grin, her tone almost teasing. “But seriously, you’ve got a smart mind, Harry. You see things in a way most people don’t.”
He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying her as if trying to figure out her angle. “Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”
She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “And if I was?”
Harry’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I’d say it’s about time you stopped pretending you find me intimidating.”
“I never said you intimidate me,” she shot back, her grin widening. “I said you have a grumpy vibe. Totally different.”
“Right,” he said, his tone dry but his smirk giving him away. “Good to know I’m not scaring you off.”
“Not even close,” Y/N replied, her voice confident now. She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him. “You’re not as scary as you think, Harry. In fact, I think you’re kind of… interesting.”
Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”
“Right back at you,” she said, her gaze warm.
For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful banter was still there, but beneath it was something quieter, something unspoken. Y/N didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t in a hurry to break the moment.
Harry finally set his glass down, his expression softening just slightly. “Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”
“Maybe I do,” she said simply, holding his gaze.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and for the first time, he didn’t deflect her comment. Instead, he just looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn’t look away.
The mood in the room shifted as Harry leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. 
He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing as he said, "You wouldn't be able to handle me."
Her breath caught, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word.
 "Try me," she challenged, her voice steady but laced with anticipation.
Harry's eyes darkened, the playful smirk on his lips giving way to something deeper, something more raw. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her throat-not gripping, just resting, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. The warmth of his touch made her heart race, and she felt her breath hitch as he leaned in closer.
For a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss.
It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rushed either-it was deliberate, like he'd been holding himself back and was finally letting go. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, and Y/N melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip the edge of the counter for balance.
She kissed him back just as fervently, tilting her head to deepen the connection. His fingers slid from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he couldn't get enough of her. The heat between them was undeniable, and in that moment, nothing else mattered-not the chill of her broken heater, not the wine, not the playful banter that had led them here.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Harry's green eyes searched hers, and for once, his usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found.
"Still think I can't handle you?" Y/N whispered, her voice a little breathless but tinged with humor.
Harry smirked, his hand still lingering at the nape of her neck. 
"Guess I underestimated you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But l'm not done yet.”
Harry's hand slid down from Y/N's neck to her wrist, his grip firm but careful as he led her through his apartment toward his bedroom.
Her heart pounded in anticipation, her breath catching when he opened the door and gently but deliberately pushed her onto the bed.
Y/N gasped softly, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked up at him. The intensity in his green eyes made her pulse race, and the energy between them was electric, the room feeling heavier with every passing second.
Harry stepped closer, his movements slow and controlled, like he was savoring the moment.
He placed a hand on her throat again, this time with a gentle but deliberate squeeze that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her jawline as he leaned in, his voice low and commanding.
"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority and heat.
Y/N's breath hitched as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.
Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, so she let her actions speak for her, tilting her head slightly into his touch.
Harry smirked, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped even lower, a whisper that made her skin prickle with anticipation.
"I knew you would be," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive.
The words sent a jolt through her, and she felt her body react instinctively, her cheeks flushing as she surrendered to the moment.
Harry's lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, trailing down her neck as his hand stayed firmly but gently in place. Every movement felt deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of his attention.
Whatever control Y/N thought she had going into this was slipping fast, and the way Harry's touch consumed her made it clear—he knew it, too.
Harry paused, his intense green eyes meeting Y/N’s as he leaned over her. His hand lingered on her throat, his grip light but enough to hold her attention completely. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move any closer. He just looked at her, his gaze softening slightly, as if he were silently asking her a question.
It wasn’t just a look—it was a pause, a chance for her to stop him if she wanted to. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and searching, silently asking for her consent.
Y/N’s heart raced as she looked back at him, feeling the weight of his unspoken question. She swallowed, her breath shallow as she gave him the answer he was waiting for. Slowly, purposely, she nodded.
Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an edge of tenderness.
He leaned down again, his lips brushing hers as his hand on her throat tightened just slightly, enough to make her feel both safe and completely at his mercy. And as the space between them disappeared, Y/N felt herself giving in fully, her trust in him unwavering.
Harry's piercing gaze never left Y/N's face, his touch as light as a butterfly's wings. He slowly pulled her to the edge, his hands on her hips. The soft rustle of sheets filled the room as she sank into the bedding, eyes darting up to meet his.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him undoing his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. She gulped audibly as he climbed onto the bed with her, their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. His hand trailed down her side, stopping just above her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her earlobe, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on her skin.
She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before whispering back, "I want you to take control."
Harry's smirk was both predatory and reassuring as he nodded once in understanding. His hand slid underneath her shirt, tracing patterns across her stomach before moving higher till it reached its destination: her lacy black bra. He palmed one of her breasts through the fabric, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat that echoed around them. His thumb circled her nipple roughly, making it harden into a tight bud underneath his touch.
His lips followed suit, kissing along her jawline and trailing down towards that erect nipple. He flicked it with his tongue teasingly while simultaneously tug
His smile was wicked as he leaned back, a glint in his eye. "Is that so?" He trailed kisses down her neck, his stubble grazing against her sensitive skin, making her shudder with pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies and brushed against her center, indulging in the wetness there. She gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.
"You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed her shorts aside and slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness surrounding him. Y/N moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand in encouragement.
Harry removed his finger, teasing her as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He growled softly against her skin, sucking gently as he began to thrust two fingers inside her in short, quick motions that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out softly, gripping the sheets beneath her as he continued his ministrations. He quickly undressed her and stared at her body. Y/N felt hot under his eyes. 
They quickly lost themselves in each other's touches. The squeak of the bedframe echoed in the room as Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped at the fullness but welcomed it, urging him on with a nod of encouragement.
He slowed down, taking deep breaths to regain control as he braced himself above her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked hoarsely, gaze locked onto hers.
Y/N nodded fiercely, signaling him to continue. With a low growl of approval, he began moving inside her slowly but steadily, their 
bodies meeting in a dance of desire. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through them both, their skin slick with sweat under the dim light of the bedside lamp. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved together, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.
Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his rhythm becoming faster and harder, mirroring the desire that flared in his eyes. Y/N met him stroke for stroke, their eyes locked on each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the silence beneath the duvet, broken only by their heavy breathing and soft moans.
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared her climax, his name falling from her lips in a whispered plea. Without missing a beat, he quickened his pace, his cock driving into her with urgency. Their connection was intense, overwhelming, everything she could have asked for and more.
As she cried out in ecstasy beneath him, feeling her orgasm wash over her like a wave, Harry followed close behind. His body tensed as he groaned loudly, filling her with his warmth and love. Their hearts raced in unison as they finally collapsed onto each other, panting heavily but content.
He rolled off her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back beside her. 
Harry lay on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/N. His green eyes were softer now, a flicker of mischief dancing in them as he smirked. 
"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "are you going to text your little girl chat and tell them we fucked?" Y/N let out a surprised laugh, turning her head to look at him. 
"What? No! They'd never let me live it down."
Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. 
"You should. Tell them the hot, mysterious guy was really grumpy the whole time."Y/N laughed even harder, covering her face with her hand. 
"Oh, right. That'll really sell it. 'Hey, girls, just an FYl, my grumpy neighbor is not only hot but also excellent in bed. Highly recommend.'"
Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "Not bad. Make sure you add in the part about how I stayed in character the whole time-grumpy and all."
She rolled her eyes, still smiling as she nudged him playfully. "Fine. I'll throw in that your scowl is even sexier up close. Happy?"
"Ecstatic," he said dryly, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. YN shook her head, the laughter subsiding into a warm smile.
 "You know," she said, her tone softening, "you might be mysterious and grumpy, but you're also a little cocky. Just saying."
Harry leaned down, his face inches from hers.
"Maybe," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you like it."
Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, biting back a grin. "Maybe I do."
"Good," he said simply, before capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her forget about everything else-including her friends waiting for updates in the group chat.
The week passed in a blur of near-misses and brief encounters between Y/N and Harry. She saw him in the mailroom once, where he gave her a small nod and the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing upstairs. Another time, they crossed paths in the hallway, exchanging quick hellos but nothing more.
Neither of them brought up the night they spent together, and while Y/N tried to brush it off as a casual hookup, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the topic. She didn’t want to push, figuring Harry would open up if and when he was ready.
Then, one evening, as she was curled up on her couch with a glass of wine and her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text.
Harry:
Hey. Sorry I’ve been so distant this week. The gallery is getting ready for a new showing, and it’s been… a lot.
Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t expected him to reach out, let alone apologize.
Y/N:
Hey, no worries. I figured you were busy. New showing sounds exciting though!
A moment later, her phone buzzed again.
Harry:
It is. Stressful, but worth it. You should come by. It’s this Saturday night. Bring your friends if you want.
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry inviting her to his gallery? That felt… significant.
Y/N:
I’d love to. Are you sure you want me to bring my friends? They’re a little… loud.
Harry:
If they’re anything like you, I’m already prepared for chaos.
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
Y/N:
Fair warning: chaos is guaranteed. But I’ll be there.
Harry:
Good. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.
Y/N set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. For all of Harry’s grumpiness and guarded demeanor, this felt like his way of extending an olive branch—a step toward something more. And she couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing him in his element, at the gallery, intrigued her.
She grabbed her phone again and opened the group chat with Harper and Lila.
Y/N:
Ladies, clear your schedules for Saturday night. We’re going to an art gallery.
Predictably, her phone exploded with responses almost immediately.
Lila:
Wait, is this Harry’s gallery?
Harper:
The grumpy tattooed neighbor has an art gallery?
Y/N:
Yes. He invited me. And before you ask—no, we’re not talking about the other night.
Lila:
Boring. But fine, we’re in. Is there wine?
Harper:
And snacks?
Y/N:
I’ll ask. But behave yourselves. He already thinks I’m loud.
Lila:
Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.
Y/N laughed, already imagining the chaos her friends would inevitably bring. But deep down, she was looking forward to Saturday more than she cared to admit. 
The week crawled by as Saturday approached, each day slower than the last. Y/N found herself obsessing over small details—whether Harry would be too busy to notice her, what kind of people attended art gallery showings, and most importantly, what to wear. She wanted to look effortlessly put-together, like someone who appreciated art but wasn’t trying too hard.
By Saturday afternoon, her room was a battlefield of discarded outfits. Finally, she settled on a sleek black jumpsuit paired with a cropped denim jacket and ankle boots—stylish but not over the top. She added a few gold accessories and a swipe of lipstick before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.
On the way to Silver Lake, she picked up Harper and Lila, who were already buzzing with excitement when they climbed into the car.
“You look hot,” Lila said, eyeing her outfit. “Very ‘I like art but I’m too cool to talk about it.’”
“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing as she started the car. “I’m going for low-key, not intimidating.”
“Well, mission accomplished,” Harper chimed in, adjusting her blazer. 
Y/N glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning. Harper wore a bold red jumpsuit, while Lila had opted for a metallic skirt and leather jacket. 
By the time they pulled into Silver Lake, the sun had set, and the neighborhood was alive with energy. The gallery came into view, its windows glowing warmly against the evening sky. People were milling about on the sidewalk, chatting in small groups with glasses of wine in hand, while others filtered in and out of the bustling space.
“This is it,” Y/N said, parking the car and taking a deep breath.
“It’s so fancy,” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Look at all these people!”
Harper leaned forward, peering out the window. “I’m already picturing Harry brooding in a corner, glaring at anyone who talks too loud.”
“Probably,” Y/N muttered, her heart fluttering as she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag and adjusted her jacket before turning to her friends. “Okay, let’s not embarrass me too much, yeah?”
“No promises,” Harper said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they headed toward the gallery entrance.
Inside, the space was even more vibrant. The walls were adorned with bold, eclectic pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, and mixed-media pieces that immediately drew attention. Soft music played in the background, and servers wove through the crowd with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the occasional burst of laughter.
Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Harry. She didn’t spot him right away, but she noticed how carefully curated the space felt—each piece arranged with intention. It was a reflection of him, she realized, meticulous and thoughtful.
“This is amazing,” Harper said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “He really knows what he’s doing.”
Lila nudged Y/N. “Speaking of, where is Mr. Grumpy Art Dealer? I want to see him in his element.”
“I don’t know,” Y/N said, glancing around again. “He’s probably—”
Before she could finish, her gaze landed on him. Harry stood near the back of the room, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tattoos. He was talking to a small group of people, but his eyes flicked toward her as if he could feel her presence.
Their gazes locked for a moment, and he gave her a subtle nod before turning back to his conversation. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt Lila squeeze her arm.
“Oh, he definitely saw you,” Lila said, grinning. “And I’m not imagining the way he looked at you.”
“Stop,” Y/N hissed, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t deny it—there was something in his gaze that felt personal, even in the middle of the crowd.
“Go say hi,” Harper urged, giving her a nudge.
“Not yet,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass of wine for herself. “I’ll wait until he’s free. Let’s just look around first.”
As they wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry’s eyes were on her—even when she wasn’t looking his way.
Y/N wandered through the gallery, sipping her wine as she admired the artwork. Each piece was so different—some abstract, others intricate and detailed—but all of them carried a sense of purpose. It was easy to see that Harry had a good eye for curating.
She glanced across the room and saw Harper and Lila chatting animatedly with a group of women, likely bonding over their outfits or the wine. Typical, she thought with a smile, shaking her head.
As she moved to the next painting—a striking piece of layered colors and textures—she felt someone step up beside her. There was a shift in the air, a quiet presence that made her turn her head.
It was Harry.
He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the painting. His black shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up, contrasted sharply against the warm tones of the art, and his tattoos seemed to blend seamlessly into the aesthetic of the space.
“It’s acrylic and resin,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The artist used palette knives for the texture and then poured resin over it to give it that shine. Took weeks to cure properly.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard for a moment before she found her words. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the piece. “I love the depth in it. It feels like you could reach in and get lost.”
Harry glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the idea. The artist wanted it to feel immersive, like stepping into an emotional landscape.”
She looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know all the details of every piece in here?”
“Pretty much,” he admitted, his smirk growing. “Part of the job. I like to understand the process—it helps me connect with the artists and explain it to people who come through.”
Y/N smiled, sipping her wine. “It’s impressive. You’ve created something really special here.”
Harry looked at her again, his green eyes studying her for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot, coming from you.”
She tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Why me?”
He shrugged slightly, his gaze flicking back to the painting. “Because you actually look at the art. Most people just see it, but you’re trying to understand it.”
Her cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she turned back to the painting to hide her flustered expression. “Well, you make it hard not to appreciate it. The way you talk about it… it’s obvious how much you care.”
He didn’t respond right away, and the silence between them felt comfortable, almost intimate. Finally, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer now.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
Y/N turned to look at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the closeness between them. “Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, the bustling crowd around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing there, the art surrounding them as if it were part of their story.
Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s, his fingers warm and steady as he gently tugged her through the gallery. She followed without question, her curiosity mounting as they weaved between groups of people. He didn’t say a word, just led her down a quieter section of the space where fewer people were lingering.
When they stopped, Y/N noticed the piece in front of them was a painting—bold yet delicate, with strokes that somehow conveyed both strength and softness. She tilted her head, studying it, drawn to the way the light and shadows played across the figure in the painting. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory.
She took a step closer, her heart beating faster as the realization slowly dawned on her. The painting wasn’t just beautiful—it was her.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Harry, her eyes wide. “Is this…?”
He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable. “It’s you.”
Y/N stared at the painting again, her mind racing. The details were unmistakable—the way her hair fell, the soft curve of her face, the hint of a thoughtful expression she’d never realized she wore. But it wasn’t just her likeness; it was the way the he had captured something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.
“How?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “I started it a few weeks after I moved in. I didn’t even know your name then. I just… saw you.”
Her chest tightened as she turned to him again. “You saw me?”
He nodded, his green eyes softer now. “In the mailroom. In the hallway. On your balcony once, drinking coffee. I didn’t know why, but there was something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head. So, I painted.”
Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—flattery, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “Harry, this is… incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just thought you should see it. This is the first time I’ve shown it to anyone.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, and she took a step closer to him, her voice soft. “Why me?”
Harry’s gaze locked on hers, his expression open and sincere. “Because it’s you, Y/N. I couldn’t have painted this if it wasn’t.”
The noise of the gallery faded around them as she stood there, her hand still in his, staring up at the painting of herself. For the first time, she saw herself through someone else’s eyes—not as the loud, chaotic neighbor, but as something worthy of being captured in art.
And Harry, the grumpy, mysterious neighbor, was the one who had done it.
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webbluvrsugar · 6 months ago
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being Rafe’s little trophy wife is… a hell of a journey.
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Marrying this man wasn’t the first thought you had in mind, not by a mile, he was crazy, — that’s what everyone else said, that he was a psychopath with anger issues and that he didn’t care about anyone else but himself — but as soon as you saw that this man was making big figures every year, you couldn’t help but lean into the offer, he needed a wife, wouldn’t hurt to play into the part and live into the luxury life he would offer even if you didn’t know him.
So now there you were, on a date in the dining table of a fancy restaurant he planned and reserved and that somehow, he managed to arrive late to. Sure, you looked a little pathetic with a glass of rosé wine on your hands and waiting for the man to arrive, but when he does, the view is worth the time.
“Sorry doll, meeting ran late.” He sits down in front of you, the waiter looks at you with a surprised expression as if he thought your date wouldn’t show up, you smirk through the corner of your lips.
“It’s fine,” you smile at him, putting down your glass. “I ordered some wine if you don’t mind?” You ask, he scoffs at you as if a bottle of rosé wine would make him go bankrupt.
“Nahh, it’s fine,” he adjusts in his chair, slightly manspreading as he places his hands on the table before looking away and calling the waiter with a simple nod. “Have you thought about what you’re eating?” The waiter places the menus down.
“Uhm.. no, I was waiting for you.” You take the menu into your fingers, opening it a hand to fiddle through the pages, he does the same.
“Waiting, huh? So polite, aren’t you?” He’s almost toying with you, even if it’s just a meaningless tease, he still does it, makes you chuckle, he’s been in a few dates like this, but he’s actually interested in knowing you.
“Got to keep up the appearances.” You smile again, taking a sip of your wine, Rafe likes you, that’s a start.
This date is one of the best you’ve been in, it goes smoothly, you both have chemistry with each other, and after you’re tipsy from a few glasses of wine — and him too from his whiskey — he asks you if you want to come back to his place.
Of course you agree.
“Ohhh — fuck.” You whimper as he keeps ramming into you, hips thrusting with fervour into you as he shoves your head into he sheets, large hand firm and smothering you down, his other hand holding onto your hips.
“Shit, you’ll be such a good little trophy wife, yeah?” He smirks, you can practically feel that smirk on you. “A good housewife,” he lets go of your hips and delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “And even a good mom.”
You moan below him, hand clenching on the sheets, almost ripping through them as he keeps moving his hips.
“Don’t even need to speak,” he groans, his hand pulls you by your hair to make your back meet his chest, his lips find your ear.
“I know you will.”
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moonlightwritingf1 · 1 month ago
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The Art of Surrender | LN4
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❀˖°𓍼♡ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N, dealing with back pain, reluctantly lets Lando, give her a massage. As his hands work through her tension, an undeniable chemistry builds between them. The massage becomes a turning point, revealing unspoken emotions and desires.
❀˖°𓍼♡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader
❀˖°𓍼♡ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.1k
❀˖°𓍼♡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content
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The evening air was warm as Y/n sat on her couch, wincing every time she shifted. Her back still ached—four days later, and the damn furniture delivery was still haunting her. She’d tried everything: hot showers, over-the-counter painkillers, even a heating pad. Nothing worked. The thought of calling for help crossed her mind, but who would she call? Her friends were busy, and her family… well, they were miles away. She sighed, leaning back into the cushions just as her doorbell rang.
She frowned. Who could that be? Groaning, she pushed herself up and shuffled to the door, peeking through the peephole. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him standing there, his signature lopsided grin and those piercing blue/ green eyes. Lando.
“Hey, Y/n,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing as always. “Miss me?”
She opened the door, trying to keep her expression neutral. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged, holding up a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. “Thought you might need some company. And, let’s be honest, I missed seeing your face.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She stepped aside to let him in, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. Stop it, she told herself. He’s just being nice. Lando had been nothing but persistent since they met a few months ago, always finding ways to show up in her life, always making sure she knew how much he liked her. But she couldn’t let herself believe it. Not really. Someone like him? It didn’t make sense.
“You look tense,” Lando said, setting the wine and snacks down on her coffee table. “Everything okay?”
“Just my back,” she muttered, sitting back down on the couch. “I had to move some furniture the other day, and now I’m paying for it.”
Lando’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you call someone for help?”
She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Didn’t think of it.”
He shook his head, chuckling softly. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?” He moved closer, sitting next to her. “Here, let me help. I can give you a massage.”
Her eyes widened. “What? No, that’s—”
“Come on,” he interrupted, his tone playful but insistent. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Besides, I’ll go get some massage oil or cream. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Before she could protest further, he was already heading for the door, leaving her gaping after him. “Wait, Lando—!”
“Be right back!” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the hallway.
Y/n groaned, flopping back onto the couch. This is ridiculous. But deep down, a small part of her was relieved. She trusted Lando—maybe more than she wanted to admit. When he returned, she hesitated again, but the determination in his eyes made it impossible to refuse.
“Fine,” she mumbled, leading him to her bedroom. “But just the back.”
He laughed softly. “Sure, just the back.”
Y/n disappeared into the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, her heart pounding. What am I doing? Slowly, she undressed, leaving only a pair of short shorts on. She glanced at herself in the mirror, biting her lip. This felt… intimate. Too intimate. But she climbed onto the bed anyway, lying on her stomach and burying her face in her arms.
“Ready?” Lando’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Yeah,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly.
The door creaked open, and she heard him step inside, the soft rustle of the bag he carried. Moments later, she felt the bed dip as he kneeled beside her. His hands, warm and gentle, pressed against her back, spreading the cool massage oil over her skin. She shivered, not just from the temperature, but from the way his touch seemed to ignite something deep inside her.
His fingers worked expertly, kneading the tension out of her muscles. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. It felt incredible—too incredible. Gradually, his hands began to wander lower, skimming the sides of her waist, brushing dangerously close to her breasts. Her breath hitched, and she felt a warmth pooling between her legs.
“Relax,” Lando murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me take care of you.”
She nodded weakly, unable to form words. His hands continued to roam, moving toward her hips, then down her thighs. Each touch was slow, deliberate, sending jolts of electricity through her body. Her shorts felt damp, sticking to her skin, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.
But of course, he did.
Lando’s fingers paused near the hem of her shorts, his gaze fixed on the thin fabric clinging to her. He swallowed hard, feeling his own arousal building. Fuck. He hadn’t expected this, but now that he was here, all he could think about was how badly he wanted her.
“Turn over,” he said suddenly, his voice husky.
Y/n blinked, lifting her head to look at him. “What?”
“Your front,” he explained, his eyes dark with desire. “If you want, I can massage that too.”
She hesitated, her heart racing. This was crossing a line—a line she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross. But the way he was looking at her, the heat in his gaze… it was impossible to resist.
Slowly, she turned onto her back, her cheeks burning. Lando’s eyes scanned her body, lingering on her chest before meeting her gaze. Without a word, he applied more oil to his hands and began massaging her stomach, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. Every brush of his fingers sent shivers down her spine.
Then, without warning, his hands drifted higher, cupping her breasts. Y/n gasped, her back arching instinctively. Lando’s thumbs circled her nipples, teasing them until they hardened beneath his touch. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape.
“Look at you,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with desire. “So beautiful.”
She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. For the first time, she allowed herself to truly see him—the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered, the way his body reacted to hers. Her eyes flickered downward, noticing the obvious bulge in his jeans.
Lando followed her gaze and smirked. “Like what you see?”
She blushed, but there was no hiding the truth anymore. “Yes,” she admitted softly, surprising even herself.
His smirk softened into a genuine smile, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good. Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Y/n’s breath hitched as Lando’s fingers traced the hem of her shorts, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. “Should I stop?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his lips still close to her ear. His warm breath sent shivers down her spine, and she could feel the heat pooling between her legs.
She shook her head, barely able to form words. “No.”
His smirk returned, and his fingers slipped under the fabric, grazing the sensitive skin of her thighs. Her body tensed momentarily, but then relaxed as his hands moved higher, massaging the curve of her hips. “You’re so tense,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern. “Let me help you relax.”
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the sensation of his touch. His fingers worked their magic, kneading the muscles in her lower back before trailing down to the small of her back. She could feel the wetness between her thighs growing, a testament to how much he was affecting her.
Lando’s hands paused, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath. “Y/n...” he said, his voice husky. “You’re soaking.”
Her face flushed, but she didn’t open her eyes. “I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
He gently tugged at her shorts, and she lifted her hips slightly, allowing him to slide them off. The cool air brushed against her exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his gaze. She felt vulnerable, yet completely safe in his presence.
His fingers grazed her inner thighs, and she trembled. He continued his exploration, moving closer to her core, his movements slow and deliberate. When his fingers finally reached her wetness, she gasped, her hips instinctively arching towards his touch.
“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He circled her entrance with his fingers, teasing her without giving her what she truly wanted.
She whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Lando... please...”
He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. “Please what?”
“Touch me,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with need.
He obliged, sliding a finger inside her slowly, watching her reaction intently. She moaned, her walls clenching around him as he began to move his finger in and out. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, and she could feel herself spiraling closer to the edge.
But just as she was about to reach her climax, he pulled his hand away, leaving her yearning for more. She opened her eyes, glaring at him. “Why did you stop?”
He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. “Because I want to taste you first,” he whispered before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, mimicking the way he wanted to explore her body.
When he finally broke the kiss, he trailed his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses along her collarbone. He paused at her chest, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing until she was squirming beneath him.
But he didn’t linger there for long. His lips continued their journey downward, kissing a path across her stomach before reaching her inner thighs. He gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he positioned himself between her legs.
She could feel his breath on her most sensitive area, and she shivered in anticipation. “Lando...” she breathed, her hands tangling in his hair.
He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust. “Relax,” he said, his voice soothing yet commanding. “Let me take care of you.”
And then his tongue was on her, licking a slow, torturous path up her slit. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her veins. He lapped at her hungrily, savoring every drop of her essence, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her from squirming away.
His tongue flicked over her clit, and she saw stars, her entire body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. He alternated between swirling his tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves and thrusting it inside her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.
She couldn’t hold back anymore. With a final cry, she came undone, her orgasm washing over her in waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop until she had ridden out every last tremor, his tongue continuing to tease her even as she collapsed back onto the bed, spent and breathless.
He crawled up her body, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “You taste amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.
She smiled weakly, still recovering from the mind-blowing experience. “You’re incredible,” she replied, her voice hoarse.
He grinned mischievously, his hand trailing down her body once more. “And we’re just getting started.”
Y/n lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Lando hovered above her, his eyes dark with desire, a small smirk playing on his lips. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension between them so thick it was almost tangible.
“You’re beautiful,” Lando murmured, his voice low and husky. His fingers traced a slow path down her arm, sending shivers rippling through her. “I’ve wanted this��wanted you—for so long.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she still hesitated, her walls firmly in place despite the intimacy they had just shared. “Lando…” she started, unsure of how to respond.
He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss that made her head spin. When he pulled away, his eyes locked onto hers. “Don’t overthink it, Y/n. I know you feel it too. This.” He gestured between them, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She swallowed hard, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. “I… I do feel it,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it scares me. You scare me.”
His expression softened, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Why?” he asked gently, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me.”
Y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Because you’re you. You’re this amazing, successful, larger-than-life person. And I’m just… me. I don’t want to get hurt if this doesn’t work out.”
Lando’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “Y/n, you’re everything to me. Don’t you see that? It doesn’t matter who I am or what I do. When I’m with you, I’m just a guy who’s completely and utterly in love with this incredible woman.”
Her breath hitched at his confession, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You mean that?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Every single word,” he replied without hesitation. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”
For the first time, she let herself truly believe him. Let herself trust him. Her hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together. “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered, the words feeling like a release after holding them in for so long.
A wide grin spread across Lando’s face, and he kissed her deeply, pouring all of his emotions into it. When they finally broke apart, he chuckled softly. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his tone playful.
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “Shut up,” she said, smacking his shoulder lightly.
He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Make me,” he challenged, raising an eyebrow.
Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. Slowly, she shifted beneath him, her hands sliding down to his waist. She could feel the hardness pressing against his jeans, and it only fueled her courage. “Maybe I will,” she murmured, her voice sultry.
Lando’s breath caught as her fingers grazed the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily.
She smirked, enjoying the effect she had on him. With deliberate slowness, she undid the button of his jeans, then the zipper, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his boxers. He hissed through his teeth, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as she slid her hand inside.
Her fingers wrapped around his length, and she savored the way he shuddered at her touch. “You’re so hard,” she whispered, stroking him slowly.
“Only for you,” he managed to choke out, his eyes blazing with need.
She pushed him off of her with a playful smirk, watching as he landed on the bed with a soft bounce. Sliding between his legs, she locked her gaze with his, the intensity in her eyes making his breath hitch. She smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into her mouth. Lando let out a strangled groan, his hand tangling in her hair as she began to move. Her tongue swirled around him, teasing and tasting, driving him wild.
“God, you’re perfect,” he panted, his hips bucking slightly. “So fucking perfect.”
Y/n moaned around him, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through his body. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails digging lightly into his skin. She could feel him twitch in her mouth, hear the way his breathing became ragged.
“Y/n…” he warned, his voice strained. “If you keep going like that, I’m not going to last.”
She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “And what if I don’t want you to?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe along his length.
Lando cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in her hair. “You’re killing me,” he groaned, but he didn’t stop her when she took him back into her mouth.
Her movements became more fervent, her lips sucking and her tongue caressing him in ways that left him utterly undone. He could feel the pressure building, his entire body tensing as he teetered on the edge.
“I’m close,” he gasped, trying to warn her again.
But Y/n didn’t stop. Instead, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with devotion, and in that moment, Lando felt his control shatter. With a guttural moan, he came, her name on his lips as she swallowed every drop.
When he finally regained some semblance of composure, he pulled her up to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands roaming over her body. Lando’s chest heaved as he pulled her up, his hands trembling against her skin. His voice was rough, still catching on the edges of desire. “I want to fuck you so bad, Y/n. But I need a minute to get hard again.”
Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as she shifted her weight, her thighs pressing against his hips. She leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. “I can wait. It doesn’t matter how long—whether it’s seconds or minutes—as long as in the end, I get to feel you inside me.”
His eyes darkened, a low groan escaping his throat as her words sent a fresh wave of heat through him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer.
She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against his chest. “Good. Then we’ll go out together.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light but electric. “Take your time, Lando. I’m not going anywhere.”
He exhaled sharply, his body already responding to her nearness, her words, her touch. “Fuck, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Her gaze locked with his, unwavering, filled with a quiet intensity that made his heart pound. “Show me,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his. “When you’re ready, show me exactly what I do to you.”
Lando’s hands tightened on her waist, his breathing uneven as he felt himself hardening beneath her. “I won’t make you wait long,” he promised, his voice rough with urgency. “Not when all I want is to be inside you.”
She smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. “Then take me, Lando. When you’re ready, take me and don’t hold back.”
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augustinewrites · 1 year ago
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cw: it’s just angst
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“i’m not mad.”
satoru closes and locks the front door, trailing after you into the kitchen, apprehension rising in the space kept between you. “really? because you seem kind of mad…”
“it’s fine, gojo.” you snap. “i’m fine.”
he watches you, quiet as the two of you go about your evening routine. leftovers from meals brought to the infirmary stowed away. week-old laundry tossed into the basket. you don’t say a word to him, emotions you don’t know how to make sense of still simmering.
“i’m sorry,” he says plainly as you’re both putting away the dishes. 
you wipe your hands on the tea towel, glancing over at him. “do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”
he shifts, unsure. “no…”
“of course you don’t,” you sigh. 
“then tell me,” he insists, exasperated. “i don’t want to fight.” 
“i don’t want to either,” you snap. “but you’re doing it again.” 
“doing what?”
“you just spent a week in the infirmary. you were hurt.”
“c’mon,” he laughs weakly. “there was no real chance of me dying.” 
“that’s not the—” you voice rises, then immediately quiets when you realize the kids are asleep. “that’s not the point. you’re losing yourself in it again. soon you’re going to drift away from us— from me,” you tell him, bleeding into the pain you’ve felt the last few days. “like you did when we were in school.”
because for as long as you’d known gojo, his drive was to constantly do more. be more. the period of time after the failure that was the star plasma vessel mission was the first time you’d witnessed it. gojo satoru doesn’t do anything halfway. he won’t permit himself to.
that’s what really scares you. he doesn’t know when to stop.
“i’m sorry that i worried you,” he apologizes, sincerity etched into his expression. you know him, know that he’s scared to say the wrong thing, that he’ll mess this up or somehow make it worse. “i had to. the higher ups—”
“satoru,” you interrupt, walls crumbling right in front of him. “i’ve always liked that you care about the jujutsu world. i just don’t want you to only care about it. not with where we are in our lives right now.”
“i don’t—”
“you do! you always have, and i get it. i know the world needs you…but things are getting worse, and we need to start thinking about the future—”
“everything i’m doing is for the future. for the future generation of sorcerers all over the world—”
“i don’t care about the world! i just care about you, and that’s the problem. one person always cares more in a relationship and that’s always been me.” 
“that’s not true,” he insists, a desperate edge in his voice. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve never needed is you—”
“i need you too! maybe that sounds selfish or needy, but i don’t want there to be a day where i have to tell the kids that you’re not coming home. if you can’t understand that—”
he doesn’t think you realize you’re crying, frustrated tears gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill over. satoru reaches for you out of instinct, your argument the furthest thing from both your minds at this moment. you let him pull you into his arms, let him hold you. 
but you’re exhausted. 
this is fight you’ve been having since the moment you’d met him, and you don’t think he’ll understand the impact of it until you walk away.
“if you don’t understand that,” you continue softly, “then maybe we need to take a break.”
_____
outside the apartment door, nanami and shoko sit side by side, sharing a bottle of "welcome home" wine.
"guess they forgot we were coming over," the doctor mutters, pressing her ear against the door to see if jujutsu tech's favourite couple was still fighting. “it’s way too quiet in there. you think she killed him?”
nanami sighs, loosening his tie. “it’s quite possible.” 
“i’ll be the alibi and you’ll get rid of the body?”
“of course.”
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rodeorun · 5 months ago
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love in the dark.
yandere pretty boyfriend x fem!reader.
cw: drugging, black-mail, non-con blowjob, degradation. Featuring @meo-eiru 's OC, Elias ❤️
MDNI.
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“You better work,” Elias threatened the baby pink candle he was holding between pretty, manicured fingers.
One might even compare it to the young man himself. Long and more thin than thick, the pink wax at the tip molded into a heart shape, white wick sticking through the middle. Elias always had love on the brain, at least when it came to you. Pity he didn't have a fine white wick of logic to split his head in two, or rather, his heart. But, when you love the way he did, weren't those two practically the same thing?
He doesn't know how many hours he spent on the dark web to find this, some sort of ‘love candle.’ Whatever that bullshit meant. The description the seller left behind was short and to the point.
‘Ignite this candle in the presence of your desired person and watch them fall in love with you.’
Even Elias in all his lovesickness found it hard to believe, but it was that sickness itself that led him to purchasing the item. He hadn't gotten a gig lately so he prayed for the payment to go through, giving himself a headache for purchasing a mere candle that was six hundred and fifty dollars. God, the things he would do for you (or to you, but that's a completely different matter.)
You, the object of his affections. His sweet, sweet, sweet best friend who has saved him more times than he could count. You were entirely too good for him and he knew it.
A special knock on his door alerted him to your presence, and he knew it was you because you two had created that very knock in sophomore year of university. Long after he changed his name, you still had the heart to played with him like a child. Where others laughed at his girlish tears and overgrown sobs, you healed his inner child with every hug, every whisper, every time you'd look into his eyes and tell him, ‘it's okay, Elias. I'm here for you.’
And you always were.
No matter how bad his tantrums got, you never got sick of him. You were the only one who stayed. You practically conditioned him. How could he ever want anyone else after tasting a drop of your sweetness?
“Hi, darling!” Elias opened the door and pulled you in for a hug, kicking the door shut behind you. “Someone's mighty dressed up for a movie night in, hehe. Oooh, is this wine? Gimme gimmie!”
Taking the bag from your hands, Elias turned to put it on the table, laying a sweaty palm against his flushed cheek. Heaven, he couldn't do this much longer! Just a hug from you and a whiff of that perfume had him hardening in his yoga pants. He stayed faced away from you as he rocked side to side, subtly rubbing himself against the bottle you brought just for him. All for him.
“So, I was thinking we could start with a rom-com and then maybe a western, for variety, and after that there's a three hour long horror movie I found that-”
“Sorry, Elias.”
Glittering eyelids opened themselves.
“See, my boyfriend injured his arm in a game yesterday, so I need to go help cook for him,” you explained. Your sorry eyes seared into his back.
Ah, yes. That boyfriend of yours. Taller than Elias, bigger than Elias, handsome enough to be called a heartthrob and an athlete by profession. A real winner, that boyfriend of yours!
Elias wanted to spit on his corpse.
“Oh, your boyfriend!” He clasped his hands together and turned to face you. “The one who forgot to pick you up at the mall last week because he slept through his alarm, right? I remember him.” Elias fiddled with one of the bottles of wine now, snarling. So much for a ‘gift,’ you were just trying to buy his forgiveness.
“Yes, Eli, that boyfriend,” you chuckled. “But I forgave him for that, you know? Nobody's perfect.”
The illusion of bliss he was swept up in from hearing that sweet nickname quickly shattered.
‘Nobody's perfect.’ Elias knew that better than anyone else. Afterall, he was the last thing but, and yet you still treated him so preciously.
So, why? Why was it the very same thing he fell in love with you for, you were flaunting to just anyone? Don't you know that love isn't free? Especially not yours! How many bottles of hair dye, micro-needling appointments, collagen fillers, and waxing appointments did he go to for your love? By God he knows his deadname didn't deserve you, but didn't Elias at least earn a little bit of your attention?
How dare you, honestly. How dare you show someone else the kindness you won him over with? How dare you waltz in here just to stand him up for another man! How dare you fucking-
“Eli?”
“Yes, my beloved?”
You looked upon him tentatively, a testament to what a ticking time bomb he is. “Oh, alright, I forgive you.” He waved you off playfully and walked over to hold both of your hands in his. “But next time, I'll tie you up and keep you here forever, munchkin~”
Your laugh mingled with his. As if you thought he was joking.
“Ah, but, darling! At least have a drink with me before you go. It would be lonely to pop open a bottle by myself, hm?”
A single drink.
That's what you and Elias agreed on. One glass and you'd be on your way to that wretch. You didn't drive to get here and assured Elias that your boyfriend would drive you back home. As if.
“Oh, before we cheers,” Elias put his glass down and went to rummage for a box of matches, shaking his hips this way and that while humming in his search.
“Someone's in a good mood,” you grinned, watching him groove to imaginary music.
“Yes, with you around I always am,” he teased and returned to the table. He put the candle in the stand and lit it.
It was only a little unsettling that he watched you instead of the matches while he did so.
“That's a really cute candle, Elias. Where'd you get it?” you asked him as he sat down across from you, drink in hand.
“Oh, this old thing? It's just something I had laying around- Oh my god!”
Elias flinched as the candle suddenly exploded, letting out a small puff of wind that blew his hair back and left behind a plume of pink smog.
“Darling?! Are you- ack! You okay?” Elias wafted the air between hacking coughs until he could see your face again.
You looked shocked, as one would when a candle explodes in their face, but then you started laughing. Small titters that rang like a bell until it turned into gasps that made you grab your stomach.
“You're, hahahaha, so, so silly, Eli! Haha, where do you get these things?!”
Oh, honey. He couldn't stop loving you even if he tried.
“Oh, stop that, you! How was I supposed to know it would do that,” Elias played along, ears still tinged pink at his little blunder. You two looked at each other and then fell into joined laughter.
This light, airy feeling was a drug to him. No matter how boring he was, how flat his personality, you could always find something more in him. Something to talk about, to laugh about, to entertain him with. Something he couldn't find by himself.
It's like the universe sent you to him as if to say, ‘hey! This is the person who will make life worth living! The one who will take that mind numbing emptiness away!’
And who was he to deny the wishes of the universe?
“Worthless piece of junk,” Elias muttered when things settled down. The candle really was a sham then. “At least it smells nice,” he lit the candle again and waved the match to out it. “Anyways, I got a manicure today and the lady was way too rough with my cuticles. She should quit if that's the service she's going to give.”
He brought his nails up, inspecting the blood red polish.
He was met with silence.
“Darling?”
Your head was down, lip trapped between your teeth.
“R-Right. Well, it's pretty,” you shot him a sad kind of smile. “It's just, well, no. Hm, uh, no…I forgot, I guess?” Elias watched you scramble around until small tears dripped from your eyes. “I guess I just forgot that you see other women every day.”
His heart froze in his chest.
“And, I, I know she was just doing her job, but holding your hand while she did your nails- she did hold your hand, right? That's a little…”
You trailed off and wiped your tears, willing yourself to gather such thoughts while Elias looked on in shock.
His eyes flicked to the candle, to you, the candle, you. Always you.
“She did,” he said simply, cautiously, “hold my hand. Yes, she did.” Your face cumbled, making Elias shoot up. “But I hated it! I wished it was you! I want you to be the one holding my hand!”
“Really?” Those big, wet eyes pleaded with him. “Because, I get jealous, you know.”
Something below his belt started stirring.
“Is that so?” He hummed and pulled his chair over next to you, thumbing the tears under your eyes like you had done for him so many times before.
The light of the candle reflected in your eyes and when Elias glanced over, it had melted remarkably quickly. The leftover wax dripped onto the table but he couldn't care less.
First things first, he needed to make sure what he hypothesized was real. That this wasn't a ploy.
“You know, dear, I was very hurt when you started going out with that bastard. You hurt me, a lot. How do you think I felt?” He cooed like you were a child, soft and gentle in his palm.
“I'm so sorry, Eli. I'll break up with him, okay? I only want you! I'm really- mmph!”
Not the romantic first kiss he was dreaming of, but perfect nonetheless.
All this groveling and begging, over little ol’ him? It was too cute. He could just eat you up! But before that, it seems Elias was going to be devoured first.
“Darling? Ngh!” You were tangling your tongue with his, sucking his lips, his cheeks, his tongue, leaving little nibbles on his blushing skin. “Hold on, I need to-”
“Need to what, Eli? I need you right now,” you swallowed, “I feel like my body is on fire.”
Oh, god, the candle really did work. You were squirming on your chair, rubbing your legs together and giving him the absolute cutest puppy eyed stare. You wanted him. You wanted him.
“Yeah?” Elias said breathlessly, trying to keep pace with you, “well I think I need an apology for you cheating on me first.”
He stood up and pulled his oversized sweater up, letting you peek at the bulge growing underneath tight grey cotton.
“Oh, Eli! It's so pretty!” You weren't shy about rubbing him over his pants. “All of you is so, so pretty, baby. Can I…suck you?”
“Darling, I'm yours!” He said eagerly, the sudden onslaught of praise leaving him dizzy. “Anything you want to do, I'm yours!”
By the time you peeled down his pants and had his leaking dick positioned at your mouth, he was ready to burst. He was entirely ready to finally get his reward, but you hesitated.
“Wait, Eli. I think we should wait, um…my boyfriend. I should break up with him first.”
That goddamn candle should have come with a special feature to make you forget anyone but him all together.
Elias probably looked terrifying right now, fine features underlit by the glow of the candle, staring down at you harshly. For once, he didn't find your babbling cute. Not when every other word was your boyfriend's name. So, Elias kindly shut you up.
“There we go~” Elias cooed, thrusting his hips a little. “Ah, ah, darling. Don't run from it,” he giggled, “or I'll shove it down your fucking throat~”
You were choking on his cock, unable to pull away with how he had his fingers locked behind your head. More than you moving, it was Elias who was pumping himself in and out of your mouth, not stopping until his balls slapped against your chin every time.
“What a good little thing you are, angel. I love you so much! Hey, do you love me too? I asked if you loved me too!”
Even under the effects of the candle, you looked scared. Elias was frantic now, not only his balls hitting your chin, but his toned abdomen smashing into your face as he fucked your entire head roughly. “Dirty fucking bitch! I trusted you! I love you and you left me for dead to go date that idiot! Do you know how much that hurt me?! How much I need you?! You were supposed to me mine, all mine, just like I'm yours! You dirty, dirty f-fucking whore!” Elias let out a wet sob, spilling down your throat with his eyes screwed shut.
Heavy pants left his mouth as he stumbled back to sit on his chair, chest heaving up and down. Even through your coughing, you couldn't help but worry about him.
“Eli? A-Are you okay?”
What a wreck your voice was, no doubt you'd be feeling him in your throat for days.
“It's not all out.”
“Huh? I don't understand-”
“Lift your shirt up.” He wasn't asking.
The smooth expanse of your chest was revealed and Elias used it as extra motivation to get the last few drops of cum out, fisting his tip roughly to pull out those last thick strings. It pearled on your skin beautifully and you didn't hesitate to stick your tongue out, cleaning him off properly with soft sucks that made him tremble.
“Good girl,” he sighed and eventually sat. It was like the devil was released from him. He was just Elias again, your Eli. “That was my first blowjob, you know,” he giggled cutely, like you two were mischievous kids sharing secrets in a treehouse.
Elias sighed and leaned in to hug you after lifting his pants back over his soft length. “Oh, my baby. I can't believe this worked. Had I known, I wouldn't have done this sooner. I can't believe you're finally mine,” he mumbled into your hair. “I love you, darling. And you love me too, right?”
Silence.
“Darling?”
Elias held you at shoulder length away, not wanting to let go of you completely yet. “Hey, why the tears, darling? Hehe, do you love me that much? Aw, well-”
“I'm sorry, Elias.” Your dark pupils met his.
There was no reflection from the candlelight anymore. In fact, the flame had blown out completely by now, leaving behind a sad little puddle of wax.
Your arms pushed his off as you stood up. “Shit…I- oh god, my boyfriend. What's wrong with me?! I'm sorry, Eli- I mean, Elias, um, I think the wine was a bit too strong for me. I really didn't mean to…”
What the hell was this?! Was this- did your love only last while the candle was lit?!
“What the fuck!” Elias cursed loudly, fingers gripping his silky tresses. The situation was beckoning a meltdown.
“I know, Elias, I'm so sorry, but I don't know what came over me!”
You were scared, he could see it. And he's sure part of that fear was from the ache in your throat, the names he had called you when he was at the peak of bliss. How he carried on when he was so sure you were his completely. Over what, a stupid candle? He was an idiot! He had to do damage control.
“It's…alright, darling. It's okay. Hm,” Elias hummed as he thought, standing up to pace. “It's okay. Your boyfriend is waiting for you after all, run along now. It's getting late.”
“Elias?” You weren't sure what was going on.
“Don't worry, dear,” Elias looked at you with warm eyes. “I can keep a secret. We just got a little overwhelmed, didn't we?”
He was giving you a way out, obviously. But why?
“Right,” you said, unsure.
“That's okay, we all have our moments,” Elias giggled and walked over, wrapping his arms around you, letting one sneak down to cup your ass. “Some more than others.”
“I don't think we should be-”
“Be what? You already swallowed my load, pumpkin. Let it dribble all down your chin and everything,” he mused, rubbing a finger against your lower lip. “Or did you want to come clean to your boyfriend?”
“No! I really don't know what happened!”
“Then it's a secret,” Elias whispered, pulling you in for a kiss. You were helpless to him, unable to pull away under the looming threat of him snitching on you. His tongue traced your lips before he pulled away.
“I won't tell if you won't, darling.”
Elias sent you off with a few more kisses and a slap on your ass, already hard again and humping you like a dog all the way to the door where you left with tears in your eyes. You were just too cute!
It wasn't much, but it was something. The only excitement Elias could offer you. Now, he had a personality.
He was your secret lover.
“Aha! How wonderful!” Elias twirled around in excitement. What an adventure!
Soon, he'd guilt your sweet soul into breaking up with that idiot and you'd be all his. He already had a foot in the door after all.
Bringing a hand to his lips, he recalled the way yours felt against his. Marvelous, absolutely marvelous!
Hmm..
Elias took his phone out and sent you a quick text.
‘I think I left some lipstick on you, darling. Clean that up before you see you know who ;)’
Not even moment later, his phone rang.
“Hey, Elias?”
“Eli,” he corrected.
“Yeah, can you not-”
“Eli.”
“…Eli. Uh, can you not send texts like that, please? Just in case he sees.”
A shiver ran up Elias’ spine at the secrecy of it all. You two were bound by sin.
“Of course, darling. I'll call you tonight then.”
“I'm spending the night with him,” you said nervously. “I can't.”
“Alright then, I'll just text you,” Elias inspected his nails casually.
“But-! Ugh, fine. I'll call you later.”
“Perfect. We'll talk soon then. Make sure your camera is on, I'm still throbbing over here,” he giggled.
“I have to go now,” you whispered.
“I love you, darling.”
“Yes, he's coming so-”
“I said I love you!”
“…I love you too, Eli. Bye.”
Elias waited for you to hang up with a smile. You were already cracking under the pressure of your unwanted affair. Sure it would hurt you now, but if this didn't last long then it would be him hurting later. Surely, you wouldn't be able to deal with that, not your kind heart. After all, his beauty is something that shouldn't be marred, you said so yourself.
It was only a matter of time now.
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a/n: I actually finished this over a week ago but the Elias lore kept pouring in and I was scrambling to edit to make this as canon as possible but I gave up sooooo, yeah 😃 just imagine this as eli if he actually acted on half the shit he wants to do ig lmfaooo
Also can't believe I wrote unwilling reader because Elias is literally my baby muffin snuggly pie googlie bear and i love him, but i love men suffering more ig 💗
Divider: /animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Please do not ask for part 2. Thank you!
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jjscrybaby · 2 months ago
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no one hurts you.
rafe cameron x fem!reader | angst | (attempted sa, murder, rafe being the best bf ever🥰)
thankyou for the req anon! i switched some stuff up, i didn’t want to add a new character (rafe’s brother like you requested) so i used topper instead bc i hate that man🙂‍↕️
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
“Do you have to go?” You huffed, pouting up at your boyfriend as the two of you stood by the front door. You were covering it, arms crossed over your chest to try and stop him from going.
Rafe let out an amused chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “It’s just a night, baby. We’ve spent longer apart.”
“Yeah, and when you came back you promised never to leave me again,” you whined, stomping your foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He just carried on smirking down at you, used to your behaviour after three years together.
You’d stuck by his side through everything. He got locked up, for four months after an incident with a Pogue. It was supposed to be three years, but a mixture of good behaviour and a lot of payments had him out early. It had been six months since he got out, and he’d matured incredibly. He didn’t pick fights anymore, he hadn’t touched a line of coke since before jail, and he was finally working a proper job rather than doing drug deals for Barry. You were utterly proud of him, until now.
He had a business meeting on the mainland, and he’d decided to book a hotel for the night so that he didn’t have to travel twice in one day. You were definitely unhappy with that decision, considering you hadn’t spent a second away from him since he came back home.
“Look, you’re gonna be fine. Top’s gonna come over later to hang out, and I’ll call you after the meeting. Now be a good girl and stop pouting, if this deal goes well I’ll buy you that necklace you keep lookin’ at,” he stated, making your pout vanish.
You grinned up at him, nodding your head. “Mkay. Promise you’ll call?”
“Promise,” he murmured, leaning down to press a loving kiss to your lips. You tried to keep ahold of his shoulders to stop him from pulling away, but he just smirked and eased you off of him. “See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”
“Bye,” you mumbled, another pout appearing on your lips as you realised he was actually leaving.
He patted your cheek, giving you one more fleeting kiss before he walked out the door. You didn’t move from the doorway until he’d got into the car and driven away, waving at you as he went.
You spent the majority of the day trying to distract yourself, watching rom-coms, cleaning up the house, making dinner. It was six pm when the doorbell rang, you’d honestly forgotten that Topper was coming over so when you opened the door to see him stood with a bottle of wine and a six-pack you were shocked.
“Oh, hey, Top,” you greeted, moving out the way to let him in. “You didn’t actually have to come, I’m okay by myself.”
“Rafe wanted me to stop by,” Topper shrugged, giving you a charming smile as he walked further into the home that you and Rafe had recently purchased (or Rafe had purchased and you just came along). “I can leave, if you don’t want me here.”
“No, no. The company would be nice.” It was the truth, you weren’t used to being alone and you’d started to go a little crazy with the amount of movies you’d watched.
Topper had been Rafe’s good friend for awhile, but since Rafe got out of jail and became a better man they didn’t hang out as much. Topper was still pretty immature, partying as much as he possibly could, hooking up with random chicks and texting Rafe details he didn’t need to know. He was also still big on the drug use, and Rafe knew he couldn’t be around that. But, no matter what, they were close friends, and he trusted him to take care of you.
“Cool. I brought you some wine, know you aren’t a huge fan of beer,” he teased, holding the bottle out to you.
You tilted your head, accepting it with a cautious smile. “Didn’t realise we would be drinking.”
“Yeah, well, I figured you’re probably grumpy with Rafe gone and a drink could loosen you up.” He winked, trying to portray his words as a joke, but something about his tone made your chest tighten uncomfortably.
“Right,” you agreed with an awkward laugh. “Um, we can sit in the living room.”
You’d poured yourself a glass of wine, but you’d only had a few sips. Topper, on the other hand, had finished five out of six of the beers. You’d started off on opposite sides of the couch, but over the last half an hour he’d slowly edged his way closer to you. You’d noticed it, of course you had, but you were trying not to think anything of it. He was Rafe’s friend, he was here as a favour, you felt guilty for feeling so uncomfortable around him.
“I like that skirt,” Topper murmured, hazy eyes looking your outfit up and down.
“Um, thanks. Rafe got it for me,” you said, tugging it down as you noticed it had ridden up.
Topper’s fingers brushed against your skirt, your whole body tensed up. “It’s nice.”
“Thankyou,” you replied, trying to move away from him without it being noticeable. Except that was impossible, and he picked up on it immediately.
“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he faced you. You shook your head, giving him a shaky smile. “C’mon, have some more wine.”
You didn’t want more wine, you wanted to kick him out and go to bed, but he’d come all the way here, and he’d paid for the bottle, you felt rude to not drink it. You reached for your glass and took a few more sips, his eyes watching your every move.
“There we go,” Topper grinned as the last sip went down your throat, you grimaced at the sour taste and put the glass back down on the coffee table.
Another twenty minutes went by, Rafe’s meeting would be over soon and he’d promised to call. You wanted Topper out by then, so you could have a conversation without feeling like a bad hostess. You turned to him, noticing how his eyes were already on you.
“Um, it’s getting late…” you hinted, messing with your necklace.
“I thought maybe I could stay over.” Your eyes widened at his words, you were certain Rafe wouldn’t have suggested that. Him being here for an hour or two was fine, but for the night? You didn’t want that, and you were sure your boyfriend wouldn’t either.
Before you could even respond, his hand landed on your thigh. Your words got caught in your throat, heart racing with anxiety as you stared down at his hand. His rings were cold against your skin, his thumb starting to rub circles into your inner thigh as he edged his hand higher and higher.
You jumped up, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “I think you should leave now, Topper.”
“What?” He laughed, looking up at you as if it was you that had done something wrong. “Seriously? I’m not going to tell Rafe, a’ight? You don’t need to worry about that.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” You exclaimed.
Topper stood up, towering over you with a scowl on his face. “Stop acting dumb. I know how you feel about me, I’ve seen the looks. I mean, shit, wearing that tiny skirt when you knew I was coming over.”
“I— I forgot you were coming, Top. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m happy with Rafe—” you started to ramble, hands growing sweaty.
“Bullshit!” Topper snapped, glaring down at you. “You want me, I know you do.” His hands landed on your hips, gripping so tightly you were sure it would leave a mark. You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move. He leant down and tried to kiss you, which had you using all your strength to pull out of his embrace and rush out the room.
You ran all the way upstairs, to your shared bedroom with Rafe, and locked the door behind you. You sat by the window, breathing heavily with tears down your cheeks as you waited to see him leave. After twenty minutes of him yelling at you through the locked door, he finally departed. It was only once he was out of sight that you ran downstairs and locked all the doors and windows.
Rafe called you as you were pacing the bedroom, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up.
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
It didn’t take a genius to notice you were acting off. It had been a week since Rafe returned, and you’d been jumpy, flinching every time he leaned down to kiss you, pushing him away when he’d try and initiate something, anything.
He was sick of it. At first he’d thought you were just being a brat because he’d left, figured you’d be back in his arms by the next day, but nothing had changed and he was starting to feel as if you weren’t even his girlfriend anymore.
“You comin’ to bed?” He asked, looking at where you sat on the opposite side of the couch; eyes hardly open as you stared at the tv.
“After this episode. You can go,” you mumbled. It was the same every night, you’d wait until he was asleep to crawl into bed even when you were falling asleep.
“Alright, enough of this shit,” he snapped, making you look over at him in surprise.
“What?”
“Why are you actin’ like this? Did I do somethin’?” He asked, begged, for an answer. You opened your mouth to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob. His anger faded and was replaced with panic, he moved so he was sat right up next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Baby, just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t,” you argued through a sob, covering your face with your hands.
He pulled your hands away, hands on your face to force you to look at him. “Yes, you can. You can tell me anything. Just tell me what the problem is and I’ll fix it, okay? I’m worried, baby. You’ve been bein’ so weird the last week.”
You thought you’d be able to get over it, thought maybe it wouldn’t bother you all that much, but every time you took a second to think you’d be reminded of what happened. Topper’s hands on your hips, the look in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. You didn’t want to tell Rafe, what if he was mad at you? What if he believed that you really had given Topper signs?
“Something happened when you were away,” you whispered shakily, big tears running down your cheeks. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, you had to tell him.
“What happened?” He murmured softly, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone.
“When— when Topper came ‘round, he…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I can’t say it.”
His eyes narrowed, fear taking over. “What did Topper do?” His tone wasn’t soft anymore, it was angry, dark, you hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since before he went to jail.
“He… he was touchy, too touchy, he tried to kiss me,” you confessed, feeling both relief and panic at the fact you’d finally told him the truth. “He was saying loads of stuff, about how he’s seen the way I look at him and that he knew I liked him. I promise, Rafe, I don’t know what he’s talking—”
“Hey,” Rafe cut you off, tone sharp. “Non of this is your fault, you hear me? I’m not mad at you, I’m not disappointed in you, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
A sigh of relief left your lips as you collapsed into his chest, sobbing as you clung to him. He stroked your hair, mumbling praise into your ear to try and calm you down. Eventually, you exhausted yourself so much that you fell asleep against his chest. He lifted you up and carried you to bed, but instead of getting in beside you he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and left the house.
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
When you woke up the next morning the space beside you was empty. Your head hurt from all the crying you’d done, your eyes felt heavy but you forced yourself out of bed. You walked downstairs, finding Rafe sat at the kitchen counter with an unfamiliar phone in his hand.
“Rafe?” You murmured tiredly, moving to stand next to him. He looked up at you, bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept a wink. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you into his lap.
“Hey, you sleep okay?” He asked softly, kissing your temple as he kept his eyes on the phone.
“Yeah… what’re you doing up?” You questioned. There was a look in his eyes, manic and angry. You ran your hand over his cheek, making his eyes flicker over to you.
“Listen, baby, I need you to do somethin’ for me. Somethin’ I promised you’d never have to do again,” he sighed.
“What is it?” You asked worriedly.
“If anyone asks, I was here, with you, all of last night,” he stated, making your eyes narrow in confusion.
“Were you not here all night?” You stared at him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.
He didn’t get the chance, because the next thing you know your phone is pinging with a text from Sarah. Have you heard the news about Topper? Followed by: is Rafe okay?
“Rafe, what happened to Topper?” You asked shakily, looking between him and your phone.
“He got what he deserved,” Rafe replied bluntly. He leant in a kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. I took it too far, I know that. But no one hurts you, no one.”
You should have been horrified, running from him or calling the cops, but you didn’t want to do either of those things. You leant in and pressed your lips to his, his arms around you tightening.
It was no secret that Rafe would kill for you, you just never thought it would actually happen.
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ariestrxsh · 3 months ago
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🍕 content warning: smut, oral (m! & f!receiving), praise, edging, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, small age gap (both characters are adults), pizzaboy!chris, servicesub!chris, dom!reader, low-key the reader exchanges money for sex
🍕 summary: your delivery boy, chris, is used to getting away with everything due to his dashing good looks, but it does him no good when he tries to resist your magnetic charm. when he arrives with your meat lovers earlier than expected, you're hungry for more than just the pizza.
(if it's cheesy, it's because i wanted it to be. 🧀 may this fic make you cum whilst you laugh at my stupid wordplay.)
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pizza guy
It was a cool, late-autumn evening, the wind rustling through the falling dead leaves and the temperature slowly dropping with every day that winter neared. You were at home, lounging in a silk pajama set on your couch, curled up with a book and a glass of wine while you were waiting for the pizza you'd ordered to arrive.
Suddenly, a knock at the door broke your attention away from the page and brought you back to the present moment. You glanced over at the clock. Surely, that couldn't have been the pizza. You weren't expecting it for another half-hour.
You pulled open the door to reveal a cute blue-eyed brunette in his work uniform who greeted you with a sweet smile. He was a few inches taller than you but looked to be a few years younger than you, and he had this innocent demeanor about him that immediately sparked your interest.
You wet your lips as your gaze scanned the delivery boy's features. You were drawn to his captivating eyes, his pink cheeks, and his pouty lips. "Hello, ma'am. I have your meat lovers pizza with extra Italian sausage," he said, double-checking the box he held in his hands.
"You're gonna hate me. I left my wallet upstairs," you stuck your bottom lip out at him in a little frown. "Oh, that's fine, ma'am. I can wait here," he kindly responded, the corners of his mouth turning up again. "Aren't you gonna get cold out here?" You asked, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'll be alright," he shrugged, his eyes dancing over your attractive features.
"I can't make you wait out in this weather, sweet boy. Why don't you come inside?" You replied in a nurturing tone as you crossed your arms, pushing up your breasts and revealing your hardening nipples that were straining against the soft fabric of your silk button-down.
"I don't think I should," he softly answered even though he was contemplating it, his eyes drawn towards your chest. "I'm not even standing out there, and I'm freezing. What if you catch a cold because of me? I couldn't live with myself," you said in an endearing voice as you ran your fingertips along your arm, trying to warm up.
He knew it was against store policy to enter a customer's home, but he figured he could bend the rules just this once. After all, the only thing providing his hands warmth was the pizza box he was holding, and the tip of his nose was growing red from the biting chill. He nibbled on his lip and nodded, accepting your generous offer and hesitantly stepping into your home.
"Make yourself comfortable," you told him, letting him in. You turned around to retrieve your wallet from upstairs, and Chris' stare migrated to the way your ass jiggled in your silk bottoms as you hurried up the steps. He couldn't help himself. You were just so hot. He glanced at the fancy bottle of red wine you had sitting on your coffee table along with the romance novel that laid beside it.
He wondered what a gorgeous woman like you was doing on a Saturday night, drinking alone and reading a book about love instead of making it.
You trotted back down the steps with your wallet in hand, sights fixed on the boy standing in your cozy living room who immediately noticed you'd undone the top two buttons of your shirt while you were upstairs. He knew exactly what you were doing, but he couldn't entertain it. It was a weekend, and he knew there would be plenty of pizzas to deliver and a lot of money to make.
"What's your name, baby?" You wondered as you reached into your wallet to count your bills. "Chris," he replied, loving the pet names you called him. "Alright, Chris. How much do I owe you, sweetie?" You asked, peering into his gorgeous blue eyes. "Um, $19.69," he blushed, clearing his throat and looking down at the price on your receipt he had pinned between his thumb and the box.
You smirked at him, pulling two $20 bills out of your wallet. "Here's for being so patient with me," you leaned in and whispered into his ear as you hooked two of your fingers into Chris' front pocket and slowly slid the cash in. While your were leaned in so closely, you could feel the heat radiating from his body and you picked up on the scent of pepperoni and hint of weed that lingered on his clothing.
"Thank you, ma'am. That's so generous. I don't know if I can accept that much," he replied, feeling all the blood rush to the tip of his cock as you flirted with the idea of breaking the touch barrier but not doing so just yet. "Sure, you can. You deserve it." You took the pizza box from him and placed it gently on your coffee table.
"You should stay a little longer. I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate, and you can warm up a little before you have to go back out into the cold," you offered, licking your lips while you examined his softening expression. "I should really get back to the shop," Chris said, breaking eye contact and trying to exercise self-control.
"Oh, come on. Stay for one cup of hot cocoa, sweet boy. You can just tell your boss you had trouble finding my house. Do you like it made with milk or water?" You asked, not giving him another chance to decline your proposition.
His gaze flickered back up at yours. He had your money. He could have easily excused himself and gone back to work, but he was secretly hoping for an excuse to stall and spend a little more time with you.
"Milk," he softly responded, completely in a trance with your caring nature. "You want whipped cream on top, baby? And marshmallows?" You cooed. "Yes, ma'am. Both please," he nodded, accepting your kind gesture. "Have a seat, Chris. Have a piece of pizza," you motioned towards the couch as you stepped into the kitchen to warm up some milk.
"How long have you been a delivery boy?" You asked, lighting the front left burner of your stove. "About a year," Chris replied, plopping down onto the sofa and reaching into the box to grab a slice. "Yeah? You make good money?" You inquired, fillling up a pot with milk. "Yeah, about $150 a night," he told you with his mouth full of pizza.
"Wow. That's a lot of money for this area. It must be because you're so timely and polite. And so handsome," you casually added, peeking up at him. He blushed and gave you a shy smile. "Oh, I don't know about that," he humbly replied. "Sure you are. You're cute, and you know it, too," you smirked at him. He took another big bite of pizza.
"So, do you always come quick?" You asked him. "Excuse me?" he politely answered you, nearly choking on his food and raising his eyebrows, unsure if he heard the question correctly. "I mean, when you're delivering pizza. Do you always arrive so quickly? I wasn't expecting you for another thirty minutes," you said, your eyes shifting between the boy on your couch and the clock on the wall. "I drive fast," he smiled.
"You really care about pleasing the customer, don't you?" You insinuated, bringing over the cup of hot chocolate. Your fingertips gently grazed his as you passed him the warm, ceramic mug. "Yes ma'am. I do. I live for it," he said in a submissive tone, glancing up at you.
"You ever get pulled over because you were driving too fast?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him and taking a seat on the couch beside him. "A handful of times, but it's always by the same officer in the same area I drive through. She always gives me shit, runs my license, registration, and insurance, and the whole bit, but she always lets me off with a warning," Chris replied before taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
"Mmmm, this is good," Chris said, licking the whipped topping off his lip. "Oh, baby. You missed a spot," you chuckled, moving a bit closer and gently running the pad of your thumb against the smudge and cleaning it off his upper lip while you stared deep into his eyes. You slowly licked the sugary cream from your thumb and grinned at him. He secretly liked the way you babied him and how in touch you were with your maternal instincts.
He took a few more sips of his chocolatey drink, savoring the warmth and sweetness it provided. "How much longer is your shift?" You wondered, studying his jawline and his full lips. "I close tonight, so at least another six hours," he gave a disappointed half-smile. "Awh. I can't believe they're making you work late on a Saturday night," you gave him a little frown. "It's alright. It's good money," he replied, drinking more of his hot cocoa.
"You know, I really appreciate the tip, the slice of pizza, and the hot chocolate, but I really should get going," Chris replied, setting the nearly empty mug on the coffee table. "Oh, sweet boy. Look at your pants. They're a mess," you chuckled, brushing crumbs off of his lap and gently grazing his cock that twitched in response to your light touch.
"Ma'am, you're making this very hard for me right now," Chris said in a serious tone, grabbing your wrist and looking into your eyes. "What am I making hard for you, baby?" You cooed. "I know what you're doing," Chris looked at you with his submissive eyes.
"Then why don't you let me keep doing it? I'll take good care of you, darling," you placed a hand on his cheek, cradling his face and searching for the answers in his expression to get him to stay. "It wouldn't be right.." he started to say, but his voice trailed off and he loosened his grip on your wrist as you leaned in, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You pulled him into a trance with your deep, passionate kiss, swirling your tongue around in his mouth.
"Says who? Isn't the customer always right? Don't you wanna leave me satisfied, baby?" You asked him, nudging his chin up with your nose, exposing his throat, and planting a soft kiss on the side of his neck. Chris was such a sucker for neck kisses and pleasing the customer. He couldn't stop you now. He wanted you too badly and so desperately craved to satisfy you.
"What would I even say?" Chris wondered out loud, racking his brain for an excuse to get out of the rest of his shift but getting distracted by your luscious lips. "I'm sure you'll think of something," you mumbled, pressing your tongue against a sensitive spot on his neck and giving him another passionate kiss.
"I can't think about anything except how amazing your mouth feels," Chris whimpered, giving into the sensation. "Give me your cellphone," you said, pulling away and holding out your hand. "What for?" He asked you, hesitantly reaching into his pocket and placing it in your palm. You handed Chris back his phone after dialing the number to his work and tapping the speaker button.
"Just tell your boss you got a flat tire or something, and that you can't come back to work for the rest of the night. I'll make it worth your while," you seductively suggested, whispering as you gently nibbled on his ear. He let out a soft moan as your teeth grazed his earlobe. "Hey, Chris. What's up? You've been gone a while. You find the delivery address?" A man answered the phone, recognizing Chris' caller ID.
"I got kind of lost on the way there, but I eventually found it. Um, I actually called because someone slashed my tires when I stopped to take a leak. Could you put a manager on so I can explain the situation?" He asked, trying to keep his composure as your lips traveled back to his neck, sinking your teeth into his sensitive flesh. He bit down on his lip to suppress another moan.
"Of course. Give me a sec. I'm gonna put you on hold," the guy on the other end of the line replied. You grabbed the hem of Chris' work shirt, pulling it up and off over his head, disheveling his hair while you did so. "I can't believe you have me doing this right now," he whispered as you fell to your knees in front of him. You smirked up at him, your hands reaching for his belt.
"What are you doing?" He whispered, looking down at his lap wide-eyed, the sound of the metal clanking against itself as you unbuckled it. "You just get so many nice tips, I thought maybe you could spare one," you chuckled. "While I'm on the phone with my boss?" He peered down at you in disbelief. "Let's see how well you can hold it together," you smirked.
"Oh my god. I don't usually mix business and pleasure in this manner, ma'am," he innocently whispered as you reached into his underwear. "You can save the I don't usually do this talk for someone else, because guess what? You're already doing it," you giggled. He sharply inhaled as you pulled out his half-erect cock.
"Wow, it's so big, and it's not even all the way hard yet," you gasped, taking it into your hand and slowly beginning to stroke his shaft.
It was long and veiny, and the head was pink, smooth, and already beginning to swell with arousal. He was so flattered by the way you lovingly looked at it, gently petting it and causing more blood to flow to it. He peered down at you with hungry eyes and a lustful expression.
"Chris? Someone slashed your tires?" A woman spoke into the phone as you slowly licked from the base of his length, stopping right where the heads meets his staff. Chris' jaw dropped and his breath hitched in his throat as he watched the way you teased him. His cock, that had now grown to its full size, twitched at the sensation of your heavenly tongue, and a bit of pre-cum gushed from his slit.
"Chris?" The woman said again, sounding agitated. "Yes ma'am," Chris said in a strangled voice as you began spiraling slow licks around the tip, cleaning up the clear fluid. "Chris, are you stoned right now? You know, we've talked about this. If it were anyone else, I would've fired them on the spot after the first time. You're just such a hard worker and get such good reviews-" his boss started to scold him.
"No, no. Nothing like that, ma'am. I'm just shaken up. That's all," Chris cut her off, trying to keep his composure while he stared down at the way you flickered your tongue over his slit. Her tone immediately changed. "Awh, Chris. I'm so sorry I accused you of being high on the job. Do you need a ride home, sweetie?" She tenderly asked him.
"No, ma'am. I appreciate it. I already got one. I just wanted to call to let you know I can't get new tires until tomorrow, so I won't be able to finish my shift," Chris managed to get out before a small sigh escaped his lips and his head fell back as you worked your magical tongue on him. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything, Chris," his manager relayed in a tone you swore was almost seductive. "Anything at all," she emphasized, the desperation in her voice coming through.
He was so mesmerized by the way you sheathed his marble-smooth, pink head between your soft lips that he nearly forgot he was on the phone. "Chris?" His manager broke him out of his trance. "Yes. Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that," Chris responded, staring down and nodding at you as you started to move your lips down his length, taking more of him into your mouth, massaging the backside of his dick with your tongue.
"Good night, Chris. Do whatever you need to do to relax," she said, definitely picturing him masturbating. "Good night, ma'am," Chris replied before concluding the call just in time for a guttural moan to pass through his lips and fill the room. You paused for a moment, taking Chris' dick out of your mouth with a faint pop, creating a wonderful suction for his nerve endings.
"Are you fucking her?" You narrowed your eyes at him and gave him a smirk. "My boss?" He asked with a surprised inflection, raising his eyebrows. You nodded at him. "No, ma'am. I swear I'm not," he quickly shook his head. "Well, she wants you to," you smiled. "Anything at all," you mockingly exaggerated her desperation. "I know. She's so obvious about it," Chris smirked down at you as you made his cock disappear behind your lips again.
He could finally enjoy the way you gently suckled on it, rolling your tongue around on his tip, and he didn't have to hold back his delighted noises anymore. Whimpers escaped his lips, one cascading after the other, filling the room with the sweet sound of his pleasure. He started to comb through your hair with his fingers as he sank further into the couch and further into his desire to fill your mouth with his seed.
"You work so hard, always taking care of everyone, but at the end of the day, who takes good care of you, hmm?" You cooed, stroking his length. He moaned loudly at your words. "Good boy. Enjoy it. You deserve it," you whispered before teasing the head with your tongue again.
"Ma'am, I don't know how much more I can take," he looked down at you lustfully, studying how you encircled the head with your licks. His dick involuntarily jerked again, a reflex to the way you intuitively knew what he liked. "I know you can take it, and you're going to," you whispered seductively. "Yes, ma'am," he whimpered as you took more of him into your mouth, sliding your lips all the way down until his tip hit the back of throat.
You loved how respectful he was even when he was on the brink of orgasm.
He clawed at the seat cushion underneath him, a desperate attempt to keep himself from finishing too soon. He thoughtfully watched your every move, thoroughly enjoying every subtlety of your technique that was becoming sloppier and messier. "Please, I need to cum," he whined, furrowing his brow, wetting his lips, and looking down at you with carnal desire in his eyes.
But you couldn't give into him just yet. You wanted to hear the desperation seeping into his tone of voice and see the neediness carved into his expression before you even thought about letting him finish.
"You don't understand how bad I need it," his luscious voice poured into the room. You carried on, ignoring his pleas to cum and fervently bobbing your head up and down on his cock some more. His moans became more strained as you continued to make him hold out, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes.
"Look at me, baby," you ordered him before you resumed manipulating all his tender nerve-endings. He loved the way you bossed him around, obediently following your directions. He did as he was told, peering back down at you and your tongue that was dancing around his tip, relentlessly teasing him.
"Please, ma'am. I've been such a good boy," he urgently begged, becoming teary-eyed. That's it, you thought to yourself. That was the kind of desperation you'd been patiently waiting for. You nodded at him, giving him silently permission as a tear rolled down his cheek. He let out a few loud, guttural moans, his voice cracking and his breath getting caught in his throat again.
You felt his dick pulse between your lips while you hummed against it, pressing the flat part of your tongue against his tip and causing his sweet and salty substance to spray off into different streams into your mouth, intensifying his orgasm. A few more primal sounds poured from his lips while you drained his throbbing member of his tasty seed.
"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you," he graciously praised you as you collected every last bit onto your tongue before swallowing it, making sure not to waste a single drop. He stared down at you breathlessly with his bedroom eyes, his flushed cheeks, and his slightly parted lips, his heart beating out of his chest.
"You're so good with your mouth, ma'am. How can I ever repay you?" Chris wondered, wiping away his tears of satisfaction and slipping his cock back into his pants. "Not necessary. It was my pleasure," you whispered, winking at him. "Ma'am. I insist. Please let me show you how good I can make you feel," he said in a soft, subservient voice, giving you puppy dog eyes.
You nibbled on your lip as you stood up in front of Chris. You reached down and picked up your glass of wine, taking a long sip before you started to unbutton your silk shirt. He watched as you slowly opened your blouse, exposing your breasts to him as you peered into his blue eyes.
"You'd do that for me, sweet boy?" You cooed, brushing your thumb against his cheek while you tilted your head down at him and held eye-contact. "I'd do anything to please you," he whispered, tipping his chin up at you. "Be a good boy and get on your knees for me," you said in a soft and sweet but domineering manner. He nodded before he dropped to his knees in front of you.
He curled his fingers into your waistband and slowly stripped your bottoms off of you. You stepped out of them, one leg at a time, Chris' eyes fixed on the treasure between your thighs. Chris bent your knee and slung your leg over his shoulder, so you could rest your foot on the edge of the couch while he nestled into your warmth. His tongue gently flickered over your clit, sending a lovely sensation through you.
Despite having just finished, the act of eating your pussy had him all worked up and needy again, his hand slithering below his waist as it found its way into his the waistband of his boxers. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and started pumping back and forth. He clamped his lips down on your sensitive bud, moaning against it.
"Good boy," you whimpered, running your digits through his hair and brushing it out of his pretty face. He was so gentle and tender, taking his time with his licks, but they were perfectly sensual and effective nonetheless. You gasped as he suckled on your most delicate nerve-endings, and the sound of him hungrily lapping up your wetness filled the room.
You let go, allowing yourself to be swept up in the delightful feeling his tongue brought you as it expertly prodded around your glistening folds. "That's it, baby. You're doing such a good job," you commended him. You smiled down at him, whimpering and licking your lips.
"Ma'am, you taste so sweet," Chris softly replied right before taking his hand out of his pants and placing his middle finger at your entrance. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he smirked up at you, sinking his digit into your hole.
He noted how tight you felt wrapped around just one finger. He couldn't keep himself from fantasizing about how your pussy would feel encasing his cock.
He went back to delicately licking your clit while he worked his curled finger into your heat, pulling it almost all the way out and pushing it back in again. You loved the way it felt, but it left your core aching for more.
"Chris.. I need something else from you, sweetie," you responded, looking down lovingly at the obvious bulge in his jeans. "What do you need from me?" He sweetly asked, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh and peering up at you, eager to serve you in any way he could.
You loved his subordinate nature, his obedient tone, and his enthusiasm about doing anything for you that you wanted him to. "Let me ride you, sweet boy," you requested, playing with his hair. "Oh, yes, ma'am. I thought you'd never ask," he softly whined, hypnotizing you with his desperate eyes.
You unhooked your leg from the boy's shoulder, and when he stood up, you placed your pointer finger on his chest and lightly pushed him back. He bent to your will, allowing your gentle shove to subdue him onto your sofa. He sunk into the furniture and pulled his dick out of his waistband once more, presenting it to you in all its glory. It was still incredibly hard.
You straddled him, sticking your breasts in his face, and he eagerly took one of your nipples into his mouth. You grabbed onto his cock, holding it in place, so you could lower yourself onto it. You gasped as you enveloped the tip, and you let out a delighted sigh as you sat all the way down on it. Chris moaned against your breast, relishing in the sensation of having your heat wrapped around him.
He placed his hands on your waist so he could feel every intricacy in the way you rolled your hips forward, grinding on him as you rode him. You slid up and down on his rod with ease, becoming increasingly wet. "You're so big," you complimented him, feeling the way his dimensions filled you snugly, and he blushed at your praise.
You reached between your legs and started drawing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves while you maintained your stamina. "Ma'am, this is the best tip I've ever received," Chris whimpered, breathlessly. "I'd have to say the same," you smirked down at him. A few subtle whimpers escaped the boy's lips as you sped up your pace.
Chris' eyes started to roll back, but you gently tugged onto his ear, and whispered, "Look at me while you cum, sweet boy." He weakly nodded at you, his expression drenched in sheer lust and his facial features making it apparent to you how good you were making him feel.
"I'm so lucky I got you as my pizza delivery boy," you moaned, looking into his eyes. "Respectfully, ma'am, I think I'm the lucky one," he whimpered, furrowing his brow and digging into your sides with his fingertips.
"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for me, sweetie?" You cooed, recognizing how close he was and how badly he needed this. "Inside?" He politely clarified. "Yes, Chris. Fill me up," you responded, nodding at him. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, letting all his muscles relax as his orgasm washed over him like a rising tide.
His climax ebbed and flowed through him. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you full of his seed until it started leaking down his length and making a mess on his jeans. He was incredibly sensitive, but he waited patiently until your orgasm followed shortly after.
"Oh, Chris," you called out in a sultry moan as you clenched around him, finishing onto his rod and adding to the mess of fluids that were leaking onto his lap. The pace of your fingers on your clit slowed down as well as the movement of your hips until you finally came to a halt. You smiled down at Chris, pulling him into one more intense kiss and overwhelming his tastebuds with notes of red wine.
You climbed off of him, and started to slip back into your clothes. He admired your body one last time as you covered back up, taking a few moments to recover from the powerful sensation. His chest rose and fell as his breathing began to regulate itself, and he tucked himself back into his jeans, pulling his zipper closed, buttoning them back up, and buckling his belt.
You reached into your wallet again, pulling out $150, the amount Chris told you he would've made had he worked the rest of his shift, and you tucked it into his pocket. "Ma'am. Do you think I'm some kind of hooker or something? I can't accept money for sex," he smiled at you, pulling his work shirt back on over his head.
"You were on the job. I'm only paying you for your valuable time. We just so happened to have sex," you shrugged, winking at him while you did up the buttons on your silky pajama top. He shook his head, ready to decline your money offer.
"Come on, if you had trouble making rent this month because I got greedy and wouldn't let you leave, I'd feel just awful," you seductively said, tilting his chin up with your finger. "Even if you just spend it on weed," you winked at him. He chuckled and rolled his eyes in response.
"I can't wait to leave you a good review. Let everyone in town know how filling the Italian sausage is."
🍕 click for part two
taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668
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avocado-writing · 6 months ago
Note
Hello there dear! If you are still taking requests how would you feel about writing something for logan x reader x wade, where reader gets between them while they're arguing/in a fight and gets hurt by accident? And how they would react to that.
Totally fine if you don't like the idea. Thank you for giving us all these lovely works!
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It’s hard to know which one of them started it. Probably Wade. It’s usually Wade, saying something stupid or offhand which irritates Logan into a physical reaction. But occasionally Logan forgets to mind his mouth, especially when he’s had a couple of drinks, and then they’re just at each other’s throats with knives and claws. 
They have gotten better to be fair. Calmer. More adjusted to living in the same space, being together all the time. Plus you beg - beg - them not to fight in the apartment, there just isn’t enough room for it. 
To their credit they only get into fisticuffs at Wade’s place. Your home, with your boho throws and favourite posters, has remained unscathed. It is Switzerland in this damn war of testosterone. 
You’ve had Wade’s spare key forever now, he even got you a little unlicensed Deadpool charm to put on it, and you have your headphones in when you open the door. The sound of 80s rock covers up the noise of carnage inside, and that is why you’re so totally unprepared when the bottle comes flying at you. 
It does not hit you to be fair. It shatters on the doorframe, showering you in glass. You gasp. From where Logan has Wade in a headlock and Wade is trying to stab his way out, your boys freeze. Clearly Wade tried to bottle him, Logan swatted it away, and the situation at hand was created. A beat passes as you try and recover from what’s happened, and you feel a small trickle of blood run down to your jaw from your cheek. 
You rip the headphones from your ears, more angry than you’ve ever been. Their faces drop. 
“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me, you two?! I’ve asked you not to fight because of shit exactly like this!”
You use the plain of your hand to wipe your face and grimace when it comes back red. This seems to break the two of them out of their stupor and your boys are immediately on their feet. 
“Fuck, pookie, we’re sorry—” Wade says, at the same time Logan starts, “Baby, we didn’t mean to—”
You hold up your bloodied hand in the universal sign for them to stop. They do, like a pair of trained dogs. 
“Fuck this shit. I’m done,” you snarl, because if you don’t rev up the anger you know you’ll start to cry. Tears are starting to prickle in the corner of your eyes. Before either of them can say anything you’ve turned on your heel and left the building. 
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When you’re home, a glass of Sauvignon blanc deep and with a band aid on your cheekbone, you realise you didn’t really mean it. You’re not “done”. Done with their squabbling, maybe, and done with the situation in that moment, but not done done. You should probably call Wade up and apologise to them both, but honestly you’re still sort of angry at the whole scenario. 
You shove a handful of Cheetos in your mouth and stab the play button on the remote, sinking into the sofa as the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy plays, determined to be distracted in any way possible… when there’s a knock at the door. 
When you open it of course it’s them. They look like repentant schoolboys. Logan’s holding half a dozen boxes from your favourite pizza place, Wade has a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around the neck. There’s a tag on it. It says “we’re sorry :(“ with a little doodle of them both in Wade’s hand. 
You soften. How could you not?
“We fucked up, we know!” he says quickly, anticipating that you might slam the door on him. “We’re sorry. Isn’t that right, peanut?”
“Yeah,” Logan sighs, remarkably accepting of the nickname when he’s grovelling to you. You drum your fingers on the doorknob. “Sorry you’ve got a couple of knuckleheads as partners, honey.”
Knuckleheads. That about sums them up. What a cute word, though; you forget how adorable they can both be, when they’re not trying to kill each other.  
“Did you get the mozzarella sticks?” you ask, nodding at the pile of food. Wade grins. He knows they’ve won. 
“Two portions, honey.”
“Hmm, okay. You can come in.”
They do and you shut the door behind them. Wade wastes no time in heading to your glass cabinet and decanting a drink for each of you, Logan clearing your coffee table so he can unpack the pizza. He grabs a slice of pepperoni as you sit down between the two of them, ready to imbibe. 
“We really are fucking sorry. Seriously, pookie, we won’t do it again,” Wade reiterates as he pushes a drink into your hand. You hum. 
“I know. I’m fucking serious though, boys. I’m done with your squabbles. Next time you wanna go at each other, one of you leave the room and take a walk around the block to cool down. Even if you don’t want to, think of me and do it anyway. Okay?”
“Okay,” Wade agrees quickly before looking at Logan with intent. The older man sighs. 
“Okay,” he agrees, hand on your knee in acceptance, “anything for you. Sorry again, bub.”
You squeak as Wade reaches over to press a kiss against the band-aid on your cheek. 
“What are you doing?!”
“Making it better.” His kiss lands on your lips this time. He tastes of grease. Must have sneaked a piece of garlic bread on the way up, cheeky bastard. You feel Logan’s hands slip around your waist. 
“Mmm, boys, the pizza…”
“Can be reheated. God gave us microwaves so that we could give you orgasms,” says Wade, happily, “or we can feed you mozzarella while we eat you out, your choice.”
You look at Logan for his opinion on the matter and he shrugs. 
“Sounds good to me.”
You grin, and the pizza grows cold.  
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gyuzgrl · 8 months ago
Text
all I need //csc//
summary- ceo!cheol just really fucking misses you, okay?
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Glass in hand, you glance at the bottom of your laptop, briefly checking the time.
11:34 pm.
Seungcheol's never been this late before, but you're at ease- courtesy of the barrage of messages and calls he sent earlier this evening. At exactly 4pm, the first notification went off-
'hey sweetheart, work's piling up so I gotta stay back late tonight :('
Within a minute, there was another.
'is that okay? or do you need me home early?'
And then your phone rang, with his assistant calling to inform you that he'd be home late. It makes you feel all gooey and fuzzy inside, how thorough he is when it comes to your feelings. It's clear that you're a priority. Nothing comes before.
After you assured him for the hundredth time that you'd be fine, and that he could take his time saving the company or whatever, he went back to work. Sure, you ate together every evening and watched dating shows and stuff, but one night away from that shouldn't be too hard, should it?
For you, this newfound me-time gave you an opportunity to crack open a bottle of red and start working on your novel- the perfect evening in your eyes, but for Seungcheol?
Time away from you is his own inferno- a circle made especially for him.
Obviously, you miss him too... It goes without saying, seeing how your eyes fleet down to the time ever so often, how your thigh trembles as you rock it up and down, how you nearly jump out of your seat when the doorbell rings.
Grabbing your wine goblet, you dance your way to the door- elegant as a tide, and pull it open for your man.
"hey you," you grin, tilting your head to the side as a fond sparkle lights up your eyes.
Before you can say anything more, Seungcheol steps towards you and pulls your body into his, placing his lips on yours.
It's breathtaking.
His lips suck desperately at yours, trying to take you in as much as he can. Like a man lost in the desert, Seungcheol drinks you in- parched.
He's been starved of you all day, far longer than he'd like, and it's been eating away at him, wearing him down until now.
Letting his lips cradle your lower one, he nips at the tender flesh, sighing when he gets a taste of you after having waited all day.
You gasp against his mouth, holding your glass high to the side, letting your free arm rake through the base of Seungcheol's scalp. The way your nails drag against his skin has him growing weak, and he can feel his patience wearing thin.
In desperate need of air, you pull away, gasping, stuttering.
"hi," Seungcheol whispers, hands finding your waist as he admires you. "missed you."
Beaming wide, your lips find his in a brief peck, and you let your gaze meet his- now scanning over your body, pupils blown wide at how beautiful you look.
Donned in a white satin robe barely long enough to cover your thighs, hair puffed wildly around your face, skin bare and glowing- god, you made it look so easy.
"how w-"
No time for words. Seungcheol shuts you up with another kiss, this time pressing his lips to yours harder than before. A few whines of protest bubble up your throat, but are quickly swallowed up rather greedily as he pushes his tongue into your mouth.
Walking you backwards, he grabs the back of your neck, taking large strides forward that you can't seem to keep up with. Your little backward stumbles are a tad bit too slow for his liking, and in one steady motion, Seungcheol hoists you up, holding your weight on one arm as the other threads through your hair.
A surprised "mmph-!" leaves your lips, and you try your best to keep your wine from spilling all over. One hand held precariously at a 90 degree angle, jutting out over his shoulder, you try to keep your balance, but he makes it so damn hard.
Soon enough, the red liquid begins to slosh around, whirling higher and higher against the walls of your glass, until a tiny splatter escapes it's confines and lands on your exposed wrist.
"baby-" you pant between kisses, wriggling away from his lip-lock, "it'll stain if i don't-"
Seungcheol flicks his gaze from your face to the bead of liquid rolling down your wrist, and licks his lips.
He sets you down on the dinner table- where you were working, originally- and stands between your legs, taking hold of your hand.
"we don't want that, do we?" he muses, taking your glass and setting it aside.
You shake your head, gulping as he lowers his lips to your wrist, licking a delicate stripe up your inner arm- following the path the liquid set. Transfixed, your breaths grow shallow, eyes focused on the deft movements of his tongue.
How the wet muscle peeks out from between his lips, just barely visible, has your head spinning. You can't help but want to feel him somewhere...lower. There's an all too familiar heat pooling between your legs, and you need him to come fix it.
Desire builds within you, swelling to an unbearable crescendo until you can't take it any longer. With a firm tug, you grab his tie, diverting his lips back to yours.
As your lips meet once again, your senses flood with the sharp notes of wine lingering on his tongue. It's sweet and rich, and on his lips?
Oh, it tastes divine.
With one hand on his tie, you slide the other back to Seungcheol's hair, fisting the loose strands just above his neck. The dual stimulation- on his scalp and neck- is just a little too much for him, and he sinks to his knees, feeling each joint buckle under your touch.
"easy-" he warns, voice husky as his throat quivers. "can I ea-"
"yes,"
You interrupt with a breathy plea, and Seungcheol's hands pry your legs apart slowly.
"please tell me you're we- oh my fucking god-"
To his dismay, you're completely bare under your robe. No panties, nothing.
"thank you thank you thank you-" he mutters, and it's unclear whether he's saying it to you or to some higher being. For all you know, to him, you're one and the same. Especially now, with how effortlessly you control him, how you know him, Seungcheol can't help but pedestalize you.
He parts your legs wide, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your glistening cunt, and he spares you one last glance before closing in. Your jaw falls slack as his tongue makes contact with your folds, licking through them, right up to your clit.
Effortlessly, Seungcheol finds where you're most sensitive, and cradles your nerves with his lips while he prods you with his tongue. He alternates between suctioning and nudging, coaxing your clit out of hiding, and you gasp when his tongue makes direct contact.
"s-shit," you pant, your grip tightening on his hair. The additional pull makes him groan, and you feel the deep rumble of his voice running through your nerves.
Spurred on by the noises you make, Seungcheol quickens his pace, his sights set on your high. He'll do anything to taste you, anything.
As he laps at your cunt- devouring you like a man starved- your legs begin to shake, thighs quivering with the tensing of your muscles. With each flick of his tongue, you feel your stomach tighten further and further until you can't hold back any longer.
The tension in your belly is unbearable, and your lips give way to desperate, helpless moans, loud enough for your neighbors to hear. You don't care, though. You'll deal with them tomorrow.
Right now, all that matters is the two of you, alone in your own universe.
"fuck- m'gonna cum oh my go-" you moan, dragging out the last syllable into a high-pitched whine as your orgasm crashes into you.
Seungcheol grins against your cunt, flicking his tongue up and down, working your through your high. When your thighs begin to close in around him, he holds you open, backing away for a second to let you recover.
"you taste," he pants, "so fucking good"
And with that, his lips find your cunt once again, this time prodding your entrance as he collects your arousal, savoring your taste.
Your legs try to force themselves shut- overstimulation setting in- but they're no match for his brute strength.
After he's certain there's not a drop left to be spared, Seungcheol places a gentle kiss to your clit and rises to his feet.
"did I say I missed you today? 'cause I really fuckin' missed you today"
You smile through shallow breaths, trying to settle your lungs after whatever that was.
"you did?"
"every second of the day. you're all I need."
A gentle blush makes its way up your cheeks, lighting up your skin, and Seungcheol smirks.
"you're on my mind a lot more often than you think, sweetheart" he leans closer, caging you in between his arms.
"when you're at work?"
"especially, when I'm at work."
Leaving words for a later date, Seungcheol scoops you up in his arms, one hand hooked under your knees and the other supporting your back.
"baby!" you squeal, legs fluttering as he walks over to the bedroom.
He sets you down on your duvet, letting the crisp white sheets engulf your body, and crawls over you. Settling on his knees, he brings a hand up to his collar, undoing the top buttons of his shirt, and your eyes grow wide.
No matter how many times you've seen him, the sheer muscle there is to this man will never fail to astonish you. Peeking through his split neckline, the firm outline of his pectorals greet your hungry eyes. It's a slight glimpse- nothing more- but it has an unmistakable desire surging through you.
"want me to take it off?" he teases, fingers halting at the next button.
You nod eagerly and he chuckles, quickly pulling apart his shirt to give you what you want. Before long, the white fabric is tossed aside to some corner of the room, and Seungcheol's body comes into view.
"oh my,"
Every ridge, every contour of his torso is nothing short of perfection. He's spent years crafting his body, and it shows. From his heavy chest to the shocking definition of his abs- he's stunning.
As he moves closer, inching forward with his arms set on either side of your head, you see the way his biceps tense, working to support his weight. They're big too. Big and strong and sturdy- you feel safest in his arms.
Nothing in the world can hurt you here.
"you're so beautiful," he whispers against your lips, placing a gentle kiss there before leaning back to undress you.
Deft fingers work to untie the knot of your robe, pulling it loose in a matter of seconds. Seungcheol flicks his gaze up to yours, asking for permission as he pulls the silk apart, unwrapping you like a present- although he's being careful, you can tell, deep down he's trying not to rip that robe apart.
Prying the fabric off of you, Seungcheol's throat goes dry.
Your body has him in awe. It isn't possible to be this beautiful, he thinks. It really isn't. Your skin glows under the dim lights, hair strewn around your face, eyes glittering so bright they'd put the sun to shame. It's a messy, real kind of beautiful. The kind of beautiful you see when you know you're in love.
And Seungcheol knows now that he is.
"I-" he hesitates, taking in a shaky breath.
You scan his face for any signs of discomfort, brows scrunched as you're met with an overwhelming sense of affection. Affection that you're certain you return.
For a moment it's silent, just you and him staring into each other's eyes, thinking the same thing. The wide expansion of his pupils seems different today, as though lust and desire isn't the cause of their dilation.
It's love. Adoration.
"I-" he starts again, but the words stick like velcro to the back of his throat, and you run a hand along his chest soothingly.
"me too"
Seungcheol gulps, shivering under your touch, and leans in, pressing a longing kiss to your parched lips.
It starts of slow and gentle, mapping out the motions of your mouth, and then it shifts. He pushes harder, the kiss growing intense, as if he's trying to show you his feelings. Desperately, feverishly, you pant into each other's mouths, locking lips in a way you haven't before.
"I love you-" he breathes, speaking the words against your puffy lips. "i love you, y/n"
Tears prick your eyes, the intensity of the moment weighing down on you, and you can't help the whimper that slips past your lips.
"Seungcheol-"
"I know, sweetheart"
"Seung-"
He cuts you off, kissing you deep, before making his way down your body, until he's at your feet. In a flash, his pants are off, leaving him in his boxers, and he takes hold of your ankle.
"what are y-"
"shh, just- just let me take care of you, okay?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle, "lemme make you feel good"
You gasp when his lips make contact with your skin. Somehow, this feels more intimate than anything you've done before.
Seungcheol peppers soft kisses up your leg, earning pleased jolts and squirms in return. With each sound you make, each quiver of you body, the corners of his lips twist up into a satisfied, knowing smirk.
Reaching your thighs, he presses a teasing kiss to your throbbing clit, pushing a little harder to make you jolt the way he likes.
"oh-"
Your lips part, giving way to a loud gasp as your hips jerk upwards, and Seungcheol's smirk widens.
"still sensitive, sweetheart?" he asks, painting on a worried, innocent pout.
You know damn well he did that on purpose. There's no hiding that.
Narrowing your eyes at him, you huff, half-pleased that he knows your body better than you do.
Seungcheol marches forward, determined general that he is, and kisses his way past your legs and over your torso, moving slowly as he goes along.
Desperate, you feel your clit throb uncontrollably despite just having cum mere minutes ago, and you squirm under him, eyes bearing into his, pleading silently.
"stay still," he mutters, preoccupied with your skin. "wanna take my time with you"
Your heart flutters at his words. A gentle smile creeps up your face- one you can't seem to contain- and he pouts, pausing at your collarbone.
"what?"
"nothing," you smile.
Seungcheol grins back, resuming his work on your chest, working his way up. The boyish smile turns into an evil smirk when he reaches the crook of your neck, right where you're most sensitive.
Most responsive.
He nips at the tender skin, placing his lips firm against your neck as you shiver under him. A loud, pleased sigh leaves your parted lips, and you tilt your head to the side, offering him further access to you.
It's adorable- to Seungcheol, at least- how easily you give in to him. The way you get so desperate for his touch, so eager for more, has him feeling like he's on top of the world.
"cute." he mumbles, the low tinge of his voice resonating right below your ear. It sends a trail of goosebumps scattering over your shoulder, prickling your delicate skin.
Seungcheol finds his way back to your lips, placing a gentle, loving kiss there, and draws back, stepping off the mattress momentarily to push off his boxers.
You marvel at his naked figure, staring shamelessly at his skin like you've never seen a cock before. Although, to be fair, you've never seen one like his.
Long and thick and veiny- god, he's like a dream come true. Earlier on in the relationship, when you'd first slept together, you couldn't even get all of it in without bursting into tears. The thought excites you now- being split open by him until you're sobbing on his dick.
He shakes his head, chuckling at your wide-eyed adoration as he settles back onto the duvet, shuffling up until his back hits the headboard.
Wordlessly, he beckons you over with a quirk of his fingers, and you scramble onto his lap instantly.
"you know what to do, don't you, baby?" His voice is low and rough, sending shivers running along your spine. You nod, aligning yourself over his cock, sucking in a shaky breath when the head nudges at your entrance.
"fuck-" he drawls as you sink down on him, squeezing so tight it almost hurts. No matter how many times he's drilled into you before, the initial stretch is always deliciously painful.
Your jaw falls slack, shoulders tensing as you feel him split you open. Shaky, clenched fists loop over his neck, forcing his head forward, right in front you.
As you sink further, you breathe out trembling exhales, moaning softly into his mouth, while he does the same. With each notch you move lower, Seungcheol's hips strain harder and harder to keep still.
He knows he can hurt you. He knows you need time to adjust to his size.
"y/n," he breathes, gritting his teeth as he forces himself to hold still, "baby I can't- oh fuck-" Seungcheol breaks out into a loud groan when you sink down completely, thighs landing flush against his.
Your eyes shoot open, brows set in a deep scrunch, and you meet his stare- heavy and intense. It's as if he's pushed the air out of your lungs, and your voice has gone somewhere with it.
"breathe," he soothes, moving his hands to hold your thighs, "you gotta breathe, baby"
You suck in a trembling breath, and he holds you up, pulling you off his cock just a little.
"there we go, that's it sweetheart,"
When your breathing returns to normal, Seungcheol pushes into you, lifting his hips while he lowers you back onto his girth. A helpless cry leaves your lips and you clutch onto his shoulders, tears pooling in your eyes.
He sets his pace, starting off slow, pushing into you gently to get you used to his size, before things take a rougher, more forceful turn. Once he sees that you're well accommodated, Seungcheol thrusts up into you, hitting all the right spots in an instant. You moan, digging your nails into his skin, and he hisses, shoving himself harder into you.
"Seungcheol oh my g-"
Your walls spasm around him as he thrusts into you, moving at a brutal pace, shoving his heavy cock into you with force enough to break the bed frame. His biceps contract as he lifts you, holding you up while he slams his hips against yours.
It's honestly shocking how strong he is.
With each thrust, you feel your body tense up, and that familiar, sought-after knot begins to form deep within your tummy. You clench down around him, and he chokes out a guttural- "oh fuck"- through gritted teeth.
Taking on the challenge, Seungcheol tugs you down onto his length, all while his hips increase their pace, and your eyes roll to the back of your head.
You see stars.
"Seungcheol- please- oh my fucking god," you cry out, voice shaking pathetically with the impact of his thrusts.
He uses you like a toy, lifting you on and off his dick like you weigh nothing to him, controlling your body as you sit helpless against his strength.
The veins of his cock drag against your walls, carving their shape into you ruthlessly, and you can't help but take it.
Take everything he gives you.
"that's it, sweetheart-" he grits, "so fucking good for me"
His praise only adds to your arousal, and you feel yourself on the verge of pleasure, almost about to let it all go. Through heavy, merciless thrusts, a hand leaves your thigh to flick at your clit, and you let out a shrill, surprised cry, as your body falls victim to an electrifying orgasm.
You let out a sob, calling his name while tears spill over your cheeks. Seungcheol silences you with a kiss, licking into your mouth, bullying his way inside. His hips continue their movements, thrusting up into your poor, abused cunt to chase his own high, and soon after, he follows suit.
Blowing his load deep inside your hole, Seungcheol moans against your lips, and you gasp, feeling fuller than before.
"take me so well," he pants, "you're fuckin' perfect for me"
Drained, you nod weakly, the burn of your thighs finally catching up to you. He smiles sheepishly, lifting you off himself and placing you back on your duvet.
A thick, creamy mixture spills out of you, and Seungcheol gulps as he watches. The view before him is more than tempting, and he feels the blood rush back to his cock, but he knows better.
You're already spent.
"you did so good, baby," he smiles, dismissing his thoughts, kissing your forehead, "I'll run us a bath, hm?"
It's cute, honestly, how caring he is. Even cuter that he thinks he can just get away with it.
You shoot him a sly, coy smile-
"I thought you missed me"
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honey-pages · 2 months ago
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Fine Dining - Jayce x Reader x Viktor
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Description -
Continuing on from Seconds but not strictly a series. Can be standalone.
1.8k
Viktor invites you and Jayce for dinner and asserts dominance.
F/M. 18+. NSFW. Sex. Creampie/Cum Eating. Fingering. Footjob.
A few days had passed since the friendly feud became more competitive. In the meantime, you had been intimate with both Jayce and Viktor separately but had not yet had a chance to be together. Tonight would be different. Viktor had invited both you and Jayce over to his room for dinner. He had specified that he was going to cook something special. You dressed yourself smartly, adding some seductive finishes - you were almost certain that tonight would end in sex. 
You got there half an hour early. You liked to be on time and punctual, knocking on Viktor's door eagerly.
“(Y/N)! You are early, come on in” Viktor was wearing an apron around his waist over his clothes. 
You had brought a bottle of wine for the table, and you handed it to him. 
“Compliments to the chef” You smile. 
“This will go beautifully with dessert” He kisses you to show thanks, “You look beautiful (Y/N). You are going to give Jayce a heart attack.”
“And not you?” You ask flirtatiously.
“I’m very admiring of your beauty, but I have something special planned if you will allow me.”
You are curious. 
“Oh yeah? What is your plan?”
“Excuse yourself after the main course and meet me in the kitchen, sous chef.”
Viktor swoops back in for more kisses, making sure to hold his hand away to maintain his cooking hygiene - he was very methodical in the kitchen. He used his other hand for balance though when cooking, his hips against the countertop provided some stability.
“It’s torturous not being able to put my hands on you.” 
 There is a knock at the door. Viktor pulls away and uses his elbow to push down the handle. 
“Jayce! You are early, come on it.” He kisses Jayce too, ushering him inside.
From behind his back, Jayce produces a bottle of wine. You had picked up a crisp white, Jayce a fruity rosé. 
“For the table” He announces. He places it next to your bottle as Viktor heads back to the kitchen.  Jayce wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you into a romantic position in his arms. 
“You look perfect.” He kisses you passionately. His hands begin to wander. 
“Already?” You tease. 
“Get a room!” Viktor shouts from the kitchen.
“I have one V, it’s yours” Jayce replies.
There’s a low chuckle from the kitchen. The room smells delicious. Viktor reappears, this time with a wooden stand for the table. As he places it down, you see it is filled with crusty thick bread and different cheeses. There are small tomatoes and salad and a balsamic dip on the side. 
“Appetiser!” He proudly proclaims. 
As he finishes laying it down, he fills the wine glasses. Viktor had timed the kitchen management to a fine science. He sat at the table, the entrée cooking at perfect rate while he sat to enjoy his starter. You sat next to Viktor but opposite Jayce, the spare chair at the table had been removed and placed in the kitchen.
“V this looks brilliant.” Jayce comments, picking up some bruschetta and assembling some toppings. 
“It really does Viktor” You add, “You have outdone both of us.”
Viktor feigns blushing, shrugging off the compliment, “anything for my guests”.
You talk over the food, drinking the wine and relating how each of your days had been. It is a very warm environment, loving even. Everyone is happy and merrily becoming a little bit drunk. Jayce had forgotten the feud he had started the few days prior - Viktor had not. 
It was in no way unfriendly or territorial, they were both aware of the sharing agreement they had over you. In fact, they were intimate with each other separately too, it was just the dynamic that was interesting. Who took what position and when? They usually took turns switching and trying new things, but now things were competitive, you enjoyed seeing the jealousy taking control. 
After your adventures the other day, you had had to wash your face using the lab’s emergency eye wash system before going home as you didn’t quite have the confidence to be seen in the state you were in - at least not by someone who wasn’t Viktor or Jayce.
You had finished your appetisers and Viktor excused himself to prepare and serve the main course. When he had left the room, door still ajar and conversation full audible, Jayce made his move. 
Jayce switched seats to come and sit beside you, where Viktor sat previously. His hand was on your thigh, the other refilling your glass. 
“More wine V?” He shouted.
“Sure”
He poured into Viktor’s glass. His hand began to trail up your thigh, sitting itself at the very top of your leg. 
Jayce lowered his voice to a whisper, “I am going to eat you until you quiver after this meal.”
Your eyes were trained straight at his. His promise made it hard to swallow your wine, you were caught off guard.
“Is Viktor’s cooking not enough?” You answer, sipping your wine. It felt nice to have the two of them pining over you. 
“Even V’s cooking is secondary to the way you taste.” He charmed. 
His hand slipped up your dress, finding its place on the outside of your underwear. He briefly toyed with the outside of them. 
“I know you want it (Y/N).” He softly spoke into your neck. 
He nibbled at the sensitive skin there. His large fingers pulled your underwear to the side and played along the wetness of your lips. 
“I wonder who this is for? Me, or Viktor” He asked cockily, “I don’t think I mind who you think about”
He pushed into you with his finger. You grip the table and don’t bother attempting to stifle the moan. 
“You hear that V? She likes my fingers”
Viktor paused in the kitchen, grinning to himself. It felt good to hear your pleasure, it felt good to know Jayce was feeling pleasure. He stiffened at the thought. Viktor finished plating up the food, adding garnish to each of the bowls. He carried the first two out into the dining room. He could see from the way you are sitting that Jayce had a few fingers inside of you, you clutching to his forearm to keep the friction active and moving. 
“Don't stop. Please Jayce.” You moan out.
Viktor disappears and returns with the final bowl, completing the set table.
“Dinner is served!” He announces, taking Jayce’s old seat opposite you. 
Jayce pulls his fingers from you and admires the dinner served. He catches Viktor’s eyes before pushing the coated fingers into his mouth.
“Tastes amazing V”
“Thank you, its butter-braised zucchini”
“You know what I meant”
You try the food, and it is even better than the appetiser. You observe some jealous glances from Viktor. Under the table, you stroke his leg with your foot. 
“This is even better than the first course Viktor” You compliment. 
You mean it. You raise your foot higher, spreading his knees and resting it on his cock. He shuffles in on his chair, giving you a firm position to use to grind into him. You massage him with your heel, grinding up him and gently masturbating him through his trousers. 
Jayce adds, “V I don’t know what you put in your cooking but it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted”
Jayce is waffling down his meal like it is the first thing he has eaten in forever. Viktor refuses to quiet himself, your pressure feels so good, why shouldn’t Jayce know about it?
“Right there.” He mewled, head backwards, obviously grinding into you.
Reactively, Jayce resumes his hand wandering and re-enters you. The two of them are making intense eye contact with each other and attempting to assert dominance via facial expression alone. As Jayce speeds up so does your grip on Viktor.
“Fuck her harder Jayce, she’s going to make me cum like this”
Jayce slows down. 
“Don't you have dessert to prepare V?”
A smirk falls across Viktor’s face and he removes your foot to stand and tidy away the plates. 
“How silly of me, how could I forget.” He answers. 
Jayce is speeding up now, forcing deep and loud moans to betray you. You feel yourself approaching your peak. You grab onto his arm, but he doesn’t slow. 
“Jayce I am going t- “
“(Y/N)! You promised me your presence in the kitchen.” Viktor happily shouts.
Jayce drops his rhythm, slowing and allowing you to shakily stand. You awkwardly wiggle your dress back down to where it was before he raised it. The sight of you doing so made him laugh. It was all mind games between the two men. You knew it wasn’t real jealousy, whoever came out on the bottom this time would only inevitably cum harder the next time. 
You enter the kitchen, Viktor stands, cock in hand. 
“Bend over the counter” He demands.
You do as you are told. The counter is cold, and you feel Viktor hiking your dress back up to where it was before you readjusted. With no warmup - Jayce did that for him - he enters you, stretching you in one thrust. 
“Viktor!” You cry out. 
Viktor reaches around to hold his hand over your mouth. He muffles your cries from Jayce. 
He whispers into your ear, “Be obedient and take it quietly.”
Viktor is fucking you furiously at a pace you have never seen before, using you as a counterbalance to stabilise himself, thrusting into you, over and over. Jayce can hear an unusual quiet, and if he listens very closely, there’s a fast wet slapping noise. He drinks more of his wine, filling his glasses back up. 
“Refill anyone?” He calls over.
Viktor removes his hand from your mouth, prompting you to reply. 
“Yes please” You choke out, desperately concealing your pleasure. 
Viktor doesn’t stop thrusting. He places his hand around your neck. 
He leans to lick at your ear, “I’m going to cum in you, (Y/N). And then, you are going to serve yourself to Jayce.”
Your eyes roll back. You brace yourself on the counter as his pace quickens and his thrusts start to become mistimed. 
“Fuck” He shouts as he unleashes, filling you completely and deeply. 
He pulls out quickly, no doubt to ensure he doesn’t start dripping out of you immediately. He guides you by holding your back, walking you to the dining room, his cock still exposed and wet with the residue of the two of you. 
“Sit on the table” He commands, patting the serving mat in front of Jayce. You do so. 
“Spread your legs and pull up your dress” He continues. You open your legs.
“Now eat your dessert, Jayce.” He demands, finally. 
Jayce is stunned. Viktor knots his hands into the back of Jayce’s hair, holding him firmly. He pushes down his head to meet your entrance, his tongue being forced forwards, scooping inside of you. He laps at you hesitantly. Viktor laughs at him from behind. 
“How does she taste?” Viktor asks.
Jayce pulls his face back up, and when he does so, a string of yours and Viktor’s cum trails between his face and you. He is covered. 
“As good as ever V” He grins. 
Tag list - @veru-boom @gubkkki @hi-hope-hop-in
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minhosimthings · 8 months ago
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The Demon of Destruction || 18+
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Synopsis: For the first night of the "Make Heeseung jealous" pact, you spend it with the devil incarnate, Park Sunghoon.
Pairings: detective!Sunghoon × fem!reader
Warnings: Smut minors Dni, dildo use, ab riding, swearing, use of aphrodisiac, mention of alcohol slightly drunk reader, fem!reader, p in v, rough sex, degradation, praise, mention of cheating, creampie, dom!Hoon, reader is called 'angel' and 'sweetheart', overstimulation
A/N: bonjour my babies. This is the first installment of the Lucifer series and I seriously cannot wait to start writing Jayeun's next. Also I am shit at writing riding I realised that whilst writing this so pardon me if you cringe Ii
Series Masterlist
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If there was one thing that Park Sunghoon would never have expected to ever happen to him, it was taking one of his best friend's wife to his home with the sole objective of luring her to his bed. Although he didn't have any objection towards it, it was rather peculiar now that he thought about it.
Glancing out the corner of his eye, Sunghoon caught sight of how eerily calm you were. Any other woman would have been biting her lips until they bled. Or perhaps making conversation with him at that point.
But no, you were just...silent, devoid of sound, as if you were a creature mute and deaf.
"If you don't want to go ahead with the plan anymore I'm fine with that." Sunghoon offered, snapping you out of your daze. The bourbon had a greater effect on you than you had thought.
"What—no, of course not." You said, looking at him for the first time since you climbed into his car, "Why would you think that?"
Sunghoon considered you for a while before answering. "No reason, angel."
The nickname made butterflies erupt in your stomach.
Heeseung used to call you angel too.
•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•
"Welcome to my humble abode." Sunghoon whistled, opening the door of the cozy looking house for you. Your expectations of what his house would have looked like, was far different from the house you were standing in now. It was...homelier than you had expected.
"Are you sure you're not married?" You jested, taking off your coat, handing it off to Sunghoon, who hung it up at the door along with his own, "Any sensible woman would be all over this house, and you of course."
"As I said, I'm not that interested in a wife yet." Sunghoon said, guiding you to a small kitchen island, you had to squint in order to see your way through the dimly lit house.
"A drink for the lady?" Sunghoon offered, opening up a cupboard, "I've got whiskey, bourbon, and—" he stopped to look up at you and smirk, "—some special wine."
"What's so special about it?" You leaned against the counter, trying hard to look at him with seducing eyes, "Is it from France?"
"Jake got it for me." Sunghoon popped off the cork of the bottle with a quirk sound, "Apparently it's supposed to work in getting people..ahem-" he looked down, "Into the mood."
Aphrodisiac, you thought, you remembered Heeseung telling you about it once. He had wanted to buy some, before you scolded him, telling him that you were a big enough aphrodisiac for him. Once a laughable memory to you, seemed sadder now.
"Well?" Sunghoon snapped you out of your stupor once again, now nudging a glass of swirling maroon liquid into your hands. You hesitantly took the glass in your hands, inspecting it for a second, before downing it completely.
"Woah angel, slow down." Sunghoon took a sip from his own glass, "It won't work faster if you drink it faster."
Wouldn't it?, you wanted to question him, suddenly becoming hyper aware of Sunghoon's delicate features.
His hair fell perfectly onto his face in stray strands and his figure was strongly built, with slender waist and strong forearms, he almost looked feminine.
"Fuck..." You swore under your breath, holding your head in your hands, causing Sunghoon to look up worriedly. Setting his glass down and quickly walking over to you, he placed his hands on your lower waist before speaking.
"Alright there, sweetheart?"
"Yes I'm—fine." You forced out of your mouth, god did Sunghoon always smell this good?
Turning your body to his, your hands roamed over his stomach, and you could feel evident muscles through his thin shirt. Now that he had taken off his droopy coat, you realised how strongly built he really was.
"See something you like sweetheart?" His devilish smile came onto his face yet again, fueling the fire which kindled in your belly. Sunghoon's arms wrapped around your waist, eradicating the mere inches of air between you two.
One of his hands came up to your chin, his index lifting your dropping head up, as he examined it carefully. You could clearly feel the effects of the wine now, he looked so ethereal, whilst eyeing you up and down. He smirked once more.
"Let's go upstairs shall we, angel?"
|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•
Heeseung wasn't the kind of man to let go of his treasures that easily. So why exactly he had give you up, Sunghoon couldn't get the answer to that question.
It was invigorating to Sunghoon to see you undress for him. Just one look from his eyes and your shirt was on the floor, the faint tear stains on it forgotten, why would you ever remember Heeseung when a much handsomer devil was in front of you?
So there you were, standing in front of Sunghoon in your petticoat, which barely hid the black of your bra and panties. Not that you wanted to hide it anyway, you thought, internally smiling at how Sunghoon was looking at you with bedroom eyes, before walking over to you with slow steps.
"Heeseung's an idiot for giving up such a beauty." Sunghoon said to no one in particular as he eyed you up and down once more, taking in your nakedness with his ravenous eyes.
His hand came down to your inner thigh, your frail petticoat letting him feel the soft skin before he moved to your stomach. He smiled to himself as he lifted your bra up higher, his hand smoothing over the soft warm skin. Sunghoon bit his lip, his eyes looming over your visible breasts.
"Are you already ravishing me without even touching properly, detective Park?" You chuckled, leaning closer to him. Sunghoon raised a brow.
"I never knew Lee Heeseung's wife would be so..." He trailed off in silence causing you to smile.
"So what?" You quizzed his bemused figure, "So... experienced?"
"I was about to say attractive." Sunghoon chuckled darkly, "But then again—" he let go of your waist, striding to his bed and sitting down at the edge, spreading his legs in a way that made your insides unconsciously burn, "Heeseung isn't a man who'd marry some lowly wench, is he Mrs Lee?"
"You're being brave by calling me that." You followed his footsteps upto the bed, promptly settling yourself down on his thigh, he shuffled a bit to make you more comfortable, "You haven't called me by my name even once since we've arrived here. You just keep calling me angel."
"Why shouldn't I call you angel?" Sunghoon smirked, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pulling you down onto his thigh so harshly it made you wince, "Are you not one?"
"Poetic are you?" You scoffed, trying not to whimper at the distance between your lips and his, along with the added pressure of him keeping your clothed pussy firmly pressed to the fabric of his trousers, "Well, I'm no angel if you're expecting me to be one."
You didn't even get to blink an eye, before you felt your back land painfully against the soft matress. Sunghoon's hands burnt into the skin on your waist and his eyes raged with hellfire. He smelled of wet earth and rain on top of you, looking at you with hungry irises.
"Don't be an angel then." Sunghoon whispered, his jaw dangerously close to yours, you could feel his breath on your lips, "Just be a good girl for me yeah?"
Your hands found his stomach as his lips crashed onto yours. He was devouring you in every way possible, his breath coagulating yours, as he moved his sharp tongue across the flesh of your inner cheek. Your hands on the other side, were tracing his stomach. Through the thin cotton threads of his shirt, you could feel his muscles press against your palm as he kissed you, digging deeper with every moment.
"Sweetheart-" Sunghoon pulled away, you lifted your head slightly to catch his lips again, but he was quicker with his words, "-you've been groping my abs since forever now."
"Don't pretend like you don't like it." You scoffed, looking at him with a condescending expression. That devilish smirk came back to his face.
"Then why don't you get on them?" He asked, pulling away from you and instead lying down on the bed. His position was rather inviting, an unbuttoned shirt, (you had no idea how fast he had taken off his buttons), strong legs spread far apart, and a pretty face, illuminated by the faint moonlight.
You gulped heavily, hesitantly going near him, unsure of ether or not to get your ass onto his elysian figure. Sunghoon seemed to sense your nervousness, as he grabbed your arm and, with surprising strength, pulled you into himself.
As soon as your weight fell on his stomach, you mouth fell agape, and your face went down to make eye contact with him. You never noticed how beautiful Park Sunghoon's eyes were, they were always hidden under the guise of his rakish behaviour.
Sunghoon stops you for a second, motions for you to rise up slightly, and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your dripping cunt to the air.
“Just move your hips sweetheart,” Sunghoon said, his hands on your waist, helping guide your movements. You sighed in pleasure as you started to feel some pressure. He helped your grind on his chiseled abs, until you hit the correct spot, feeling your cunt practically mold onto his tummy.
“Good job, keep going angel.” He said letting you hold his shoulders for support. Seeing your mouth press into an 'o' shape made his carnivorous tendencies ignite on fire.
His hands float to your hips, encouraging you to continue. You drop back down on him, the feeling of your bare clit rubbing directly against the crests and troughs of his abs was indescribable.
Using his firm grip on your waist, Sunghoon pushes you further onto the sharp hills on his stomach, and you quicken your pace, the searing pleasure in your clit overwhelming you.
"Fuck angel," he says, which elicits a whine from you. "you look so fucking pretty like this."
Your back arches slightly at the sound of his praise, your pace quickening even more. His one hand moving upto your hair fists it tight, earning another whimper from you.
“Such a good girl, you're doing so good angel,” He said, now feeling subtle wetness stain his belly button.
“Oh fuck—I-uhh-“ you moan, going faster on Sunghoon's muscled tummy.
“You gonna cum angel?" Sunghoon asks, a mocking tone to his voice that turned you on even more, that his handsome carved face, like the muse of God's scribe himself.
“F-fuck I’m so close, Hoonie” You whimper, your mouth hung open as you breathe hard. Hearing the nickname, Sunghoon jerked his hips up slightly, making you let out a tiny scream at the stimulation on your raw cunt.
“Cum for me angel.” Sunghoon says. With a few more movements, you were cumming, your back arching into his chest as you felt your pussy get drenched.
You nearly screamed as it hit you so strong your body expelled him, along with your wet release. He was quick to move his hips up again, his cum-coated stomach making you feel things you had never felt before, pushing them into you with a loud squelch. Your senses were on overload.
Sunghoon was consuming your entire being. You could feel every inch of him and you didn’t want to stop. Your core began to tingle, feeling another orgasm approach you, reducing you to a blubbering mess.
“Look at what a mess you’ve made angel,” Sunghoon taunted as you came drastically all over his stomach, "messy girl aren't you?"
Sunghoon carefully gripped your waist and lowered you onto the bed, chuckling at how wet his tummy felt. Of all the women he fucked, you were certainly on the topmost tier.
"Wait a tick for me." You thought you had seen him wink at you, but you weren't sure due to the silent darkness, the only noise coming from the rise and fall of your chest. You heard Sunghoon open his bedside drawer, with a creaking noise.
As you relaxed into the sheets, trying to ignore Sunghoon's shuffling around the drawer, you saw him from the corner of your eye, finally taking something out from it. You could see the shape of something easily recognisable in his hands.
"Do you know what this is, angel?" Sunghoon's hands rested flat on either side of your head as he got on top of you once more, waving the dildo in your face, "Of course you do," he answered his own question, "Heeseung wouldn't have let such a good pussy go without one would he?"
"That asshole couldn't have fucked me better even with a dildo." You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "do you just have a market of toys in that drawer?"
"Let's just say a lot of women like the foreplay." You could see him smirk even in the darkness, "I mean if you don't want it, I can put it bac-"
"No that's not what I meant!" You panicked, grabbing his arm. You wondered what about your tone of voice made Sunghoon laugh out loud and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. If anyone asked you later on whether you have felt butterflies or not, you'd had said no.
"Lay down for me angel." His voice was gentler now, a beautiful facade to his internal desires.
Sunghoon places the dildo on your clit and he starts to slowly rub it using the toy while you moan loudly. Moving the toy up and down your pussy, your sinful symphonies become louder, as Sunghoon watched the juices spill from your pussy causing him to groan at the sight. He thrusts the dildo harshly into your walls, and with the slightest touch of the material to your clit, you moan louder than before.
“S-Sunghoon—fuck, I'm-” You moan out as a slap echoes in the room and you feel a sting against your ass cheek. Sunghoon's hand repeatedly thrusts the dildo into your walls, making you wish fervently for his cock to replace it instead. He turns the pace up again as you moan even more while he continues to thrust the dildo in and out of you.
"Aww you want to cum?” he asks, as you struggle beneath him, he wasn't allowing you the pleasure he promised. Your breath came unsteady, fulfilling the reticent desires of Sunghoon's sadistic side.
"speak up, angel, I can't hear you." Sunghoon whispered, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. You quickly pursed your lips, letting yourself make only muffled sounds. but you didn't last long, as every thrust and every inaudible whimper seemed to forcefully open your mouth from the inside.
"so pretty.." Sunghoon trailed off, laughing at your pleasured pain, "You want to cum hm?"
"Sunghoon-"
"Beg for it, come on." He commanded, "Beg me to let you cum, go on."
You weren't ready to give in that easy, but Sunghoon knew that. With a slick, carefully placed flick of his wrist, the slightly sharp end of the dildo touched you in a place that could have made you reach heaven and come back.
"Fuck—Sunghoon please!" You cried, tears falling down your face at the stimulation, "Please—let me cum.."
"Well if you say so." Sunghoon chuckled as you could do nothing but nod and after a few minutes of using the dildo, he takes it out of your pussy, pressing it in again.
You finish for a second time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you.
Your juices coat the top of the dildo as you moan raucously, feeling ribbons of cum shoot onto the dildo, making Sunghoon smirk in evident pride.
Your arms grab his, as your chest arches into his mouth, hot and wet. You feel as his mouth comes off of the swollen bud as he removes the toy from your pussy, giving you pain and pleasure at the same time.
You were a mess at this point-- your hair was all tangled and you were a flustered mess full of scratches and hickeys on your tits where he had taken them into his mouth. Sunghoon placed a firm slap on your ass, which made your dripping cunt clench around nothing.
"Can you take more, angel?" He whispered to you, smoothing your hair out with his hand.
Sunghoon didn’t give you enough time to answer over his words as his lips crushed to yours. His tongue invaded your mouth as his hands roamed over your body. His roaming hand grabbed your hair as he ripped your face off himself. He looked down at you as you breathed heavily from his attack on your mouth.
"Hoonie~" you moaned into his mouth, "Want—your cock—please."
That was all it took for Sunghoon to practically rip off his belt and trousers, now laying on the floor, with their owner on top of you. Your throat went dry at the sight of his cock, hard and pulsing, the head of it angry red, glistening with precum.
He pulled back slightly, positioning his cock at your entrance and grabbed a fistful of your hair, stretching your upper body closer to him, putting you into an unnatural position.
His body was perfect, lean and muscular, strong and sharp features etched onto his body that looked straight out of a painting.Your gaze wandered over his arms, his chest and down his waist, hips and strong legs; every detail and body part burning into your mind.
You pant heavily, gasping for air as his large cock stretches your insides. His eyes are darkened but a cocky smirk remains. Achingly slow he pumps in making your eyes roll back, groaning at the sight of your mouth slack and panting.
His hips were moving slowly, with deep hard thrusts that made you moan with each push. His hips were doing most of the work, the thrusts were deep enough and hard enough for you to melt against the bed but enough to make everything shake under your skin as you were taking everything he gave you.  Sunghoon was not going fast, which made you wonder for a split second if he wished to. 
"Yes….Hoonie…FUCK!" You mewled as he hit that spot inside of you, hearing him growl for a moment as he was still fucking you deep into the mattress. His hand that was holding your thigh was in a tight grip, not letting you faint as you clung onto his back of dear life, feeling your nails almost break the skin as your moans were getting louder and more vocal. 
His rhythm was consistent, not slowing down or going too fast just to drive you insane as you felt that feeling of an intense orgasm come over you again. 
 "I'm c-close, Hoonie—" You were moaning into his neck as he huffed and stopped his thrusts. You were about to protest at him, teetering right on the edge of that pleasurable fall when he moved swiftly once again. 
Still inside of you, he leaned back a bit and scooped you in his arms, bringing you closer to him. You let out a noise of pain as you felt his entire girth penetrate deep inside you.
As you threw back your head and moan loudly, it dawns on you how very fragile-mannered Heeseung has fucked you. Your hips tremble as your body tenses, the ragged breath escaping your mouth cuts through your symphony of whines.
"Hoonie~Sunghoon—I can't!"
"Yes you can." Sunghoon groans as he feels you clench around him tighter than ever, "Be a good girl for me, angel and take it."
 The knot in your stomach tightened and snapped, your walls spasming and clenching around him as you released all over his cock that was buried deep inside of you. You were seeing stars and your body was shaking from the intensity. 
His cock jerks around against your walls once, twice, before he’s creaming, filling you up with ropes of hot cum. He thrusts deeper into you, a melody arising from both your moans as you felt him inside your very soul.
Soft pants and deep breaths invaded the space around you, not a word being spoken. You stayed like that for only a few seconds, catching your breath as you both came down from your highs. He then carefully pulled out, muttering a string of curses and an unheard comment about the the mess you both made off of his sheets.
"Come on angel." Sunghoon muttered under his breath, in a barely audible voice, not that you were listening anyway, "Let's get you cleaned up."
|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•
"Tea?" Sunghoon offered you, your second cup of the night, "People say I make the best tea of all the precinct."
"Alright I trust you." You laughed, taking the mug in your hands and relaxing into the atmosphere of the cozy kitchen island, clad in a robe, you had no idea where Sunghoon got it from.
Calm silence followed, wherein you and Sunghoon sipped tea from your respective mugs. Yours had a 'To Uncle Sunghoon' on it, along with what looked like a child's drawing. You giggled to yourself. A gift from Sunghoon's beloved nephew, no less.
"Can-can I ask you something if you don't mind?" Sunghoon asked, and you noticed, that for the first time, there was no cocky tone to his voice.
"Go ahead." You smiled, "Unless it's about my first night with Heeseung."
"No no." Sunghoon laughed, taking another sup of his tea, his lips stained pink from all the kissing that had taken place, "I wanted to ask—how is it like, being married?"
You were taken aback by his question. Park Sunghoon, perhaps the last person on earth, who would ever think of marriage, was asking you about it? Had the bees stopped producing honey today?
"Well, I can't say," you started, "It's different for each person, you know. And, as time goes on, it changes. Which in my case-" you let out a cold laugh, "-is very evident."
Sunghoon was quick to put his hand on yours, giving it a tiny squeeze, along with a warm smile.
"You know who was really upset when he found out about...ahem.. your situation?" Sunghoon suddenly said, intriguing you.
"I don't know—Jay?" You said, realising you were right when you saw Sunghoon's expression, "Oh. Wait—Jay? You're not joking?"
"Y/N, trust me if you saw how much that man was brooding over it, you'd think he was your husband, not Heeseung." Sunghoon chuckled, downing the last bits of his tea, "Would you like to head to bed?"
Though you fell asleep soundly that night, wrapped in Sunghoon's surprisingly soft arms (now that the effects of the wine was over), you kept pondering over his words.
Jay—worrying about you? It was a heart thumping thought, which made you feel like what warm winter suns felt like. Jay Park, you sighed to yourself, before going off to sleep.
The day after tomorrow seemed too far away.
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rebeccccccaaa · 10 months ago
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Poker Face!
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Spencer Reid x Reader
:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::
:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...
:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3
WC~ 3.1 k
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“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 
“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 
“You guys are relentless,” she continued.
“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 
“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.
“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.
“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 
“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.
“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 
“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 
Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 
“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.
“That’s the plan.”
“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 
“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 
“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 
“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.
You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 
You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 
“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.
“Whatcha you got?” you asked.
“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.
“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”
It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 
“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.
“What?” Spencer questioned.
“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 
“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 
“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”
“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 
“Strip Poker!” 
“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.
“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.
“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.
“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”
“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 
“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 
“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”
“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 
Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 
Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 
Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.
But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.
“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 
You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 
“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”
“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 
“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.
Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 
Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 
“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.
“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 
“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.
Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.
“Hit me,” you egged.
“You got it,” he responded. 
A five. Fuck. 
Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 
“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 
“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 
“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.
“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 
“Blackjack, baby!” 
Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 
“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 
“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 
“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 
“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.
“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 
Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 
“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 
“Blah, blah,” you whispered.
“Don’t give me that.”
“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.
“What’s that?” he bantered.
“You lost.”
“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.
“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 
“Be my guest.”
Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.
“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.
“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 
Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 
He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 
You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 
“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.
“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.
“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 
You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 
You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.
“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 
“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”
You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 
“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”
“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 
“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 
“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.
“Let go, sweetheart.”
“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 
When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 
“That was really good,” you giggled.
“It really was,” he agreed.
“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 
“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 
“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 
“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 
“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.
“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.
You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 
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dante-mightdie · 1 month ago
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merry christmas, happy holidays but can we talk about simon and his partner who don’t celebrate this time of year?
be it personal choice, trauma, religious beliefs etc
the twenty-fifth of december is just a normal day for you both, curled up in simon’s flat in manchester. you both wake up, greet each other with a kiss like you do every other day and he gets up to make you both something to eat
just like every other day
there’s a few slight differences. everything is closed and the streets are empty so simon’s first smoke of the day always ends in the suggestion of a walk, let riley out in the snow and off his lead whilst no one’s about
maybe you both take a bottle of wine with you to sip on the walk, holding on to each other and laughing when simon slips on the ice
only for you to fall flat on your ass right after him, riley rushing over with his tail wagging and snout sniffing you both for injuries (obviously you’re both fine)
no fancy meals, no obligated family dinners and forced reactions for gifts you don’t like. just leftovers from the takeaway you got last night and going to bed early
just like every other night
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rafeandonlyrafe · 9 months ago
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girls night
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words: 1.4k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, teasing, p in v sex, semi public sex, a bit of exhibitionism, unprotected sex, clingy!rafe, established relationship
“so the girls are coming over-”
“mhm…”
“so if you want to watch a movie upstairs, or maybe see if top can hang out?” you suggest, rocking back and forth on your heels.
“hm, no.” rafe shakes his head, keeping his ass planted in the middle of the couch.
“no? it's just that we're gonna watch like a romcom and drink wine and gossip-”
“i can do all that too.” rafe shrugs.
“but do you really want to?” you question.
“no, but i don't want to be away from you. so you'll just have to put up with me.” rafe reaches his hand out, pulling you onto his lap.
“how long until they get here?” he questions, one hand wrapping around your waist, tugging you into his chest while his other hand ventures to your ass, gripping it over your pajama shorts.
it takes you a moment to remember what rafe asked you. “hayley will probably be here in like ten minutes.” 
“enough time to make out.” rafe smirks at you before connecting your lips. the minutes pass by as he holds you tight against him, mouth dominating yours until you're suddenly interrupted by the doorbell sounding out.
“shit.” you whine, legs a bit shaky and weak as you stand, rushing to let hayley in who also brought your two other friends steph and tina.
“hi girlies!” you hug each of them before moving deeper into the house. “i hope you don't mind rafey joining us.”
“no problem.” hayley shrugs. she knows the most how clingy rafe can be, and how much you love it.
“pick a movie.” you toss the remote at tina. “ill get the wine!”
you bring back glasses and two bottles under your arms, one red and one white. you pour yourself some before looking to rafe.
“ill share with you.” he smiles, not a huge fan of wine himself, so if he's going to drink it, it's going to be from the same glass as you.
“okay, i know we've all seen it before but ive really been wanting to rewatch 10 things i hate about you.” tina says as she hits play on the movie.
“oh, yes!” you squeal, sitting down next to rafe. tina is on the farthest cushion of the spot away from you while hayley and steph have taken up the armchairs.
you lean into rafe, only occasionally reaching forward to sip your wine. 
you're watching the movie when rafe ducks his head, pressing light kisses to the shell of your ear before moving lower, kissing along your jawline and neck.
“rafe…” you whisper, hand moving to grip his thigh as he pays extra attention to the spot he knows you're sensitive at.
“want you so bad.” rafe whispers, not stopping the kisses despite your hand tightening it's grip on his leg.
“and i want to enjoy girls night.” you turn to rafe so your friends don't pick up on wait your saying. “after. you know i want you to, but not when we have guests over.”
“fine, ill stop.” rafe huffs, leaning back against the couch, pulling you further into him to make up for not kissing you.
rafes focus shifts to the movie to distract him, his hand randomly petting over different parts of your body until another idea sparks in his head.
his hand drifts further up, thumb swiping over the bottom of your breast, keeping his movements slow and casual like they're not calculated as he moves up until he's cupping your chest, thumb swiping directly over your nipple.
your eyes closed the second rafe touched your breast, concentrating on not moaning out and turning the groups attention towards you.
hayley lets out a laugh at a scene and it has you jolting back to reality. you grab rafes hand and lower it back to your waist.
“come on.” rafe growls in your ear.
you ignore him as something in the movie reminds steph of an ex boyfriend as she launches into a rant about him, the same one you've all heard a million times, yet you're still happy to hear again, to make the same comments about how much of a dick he is.
rafe leans forward, slipping his arm from around you as he grabs a blanket from the basket you pulled to the center of the room for the girls.
“anyone else cold?”
tina raises her hand so rafe tosses a fluffy blanket in her direction before draping a bigger one over both of your laps, covering you up to the waist.
“i know what you're doing.” you whisper, turning to rafe and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
“and do you want me to stop?” rafe asks. he already knows the answer to the question. as much as you feign not wanting to do anything until your friends leave, you find rafe just as irresistible.
it's why you don't really fight it when rafes hand disappears underneath the blanket. you even spread your legs for him, allowing his hand to cup your pussy over the cover of your shorts and underwear.
“you want to kill me.” you whisper-hiss into rafes ear, subtly covering your mouth in case you let any sounds slip.
“just can't resist that pussy, baby.” rafe presses kisses into your hair as you attempt to focus on the movie, rafes hand staying mysteriously still.
you become impatient, waiting for the inevitable, so you reach over, placing your hand on rafes thigh, slowly moving it upwards, teasing him by swiping your hand back down whenever you get close to his crotch.
rafe moves suddenly, standing up and letting the blanket fall away as he scoops you into his arms. “be right back, ladies.”
he rushes out of the room, not leaving you any other option as he presses you against his body.
“oh my god, rafe!” you squeal as he pushes you into the nearest private room, which happens to be your guest bathroom.
“i need you right now, fuck.” rafe tugs your pajamas down, revealing that you're only wearing a small thong.
“you could wait another like half hour? the movie was almost done!” you allow rafe to press your front into the wall, bending forward to stick your ass out.
“nope.” rafe opens up his shorts to pull his cock out, already hard from your teasing.
“ridiculous.” you roll your eyes, but its accompanied with a giggle. you love how rafe can never get enough of you, how his love and borderline obsession is clear to everyone.
“says the one dripping for my cock.” rafe chuckles, swiping the head of his cock through your folds before pressing against your entrance, pushing in with one quick motion.
“oh fuck!” you squeal before covering your mouth, remembering your friends aren't too far away, although they definitely know what's going on, you don't need them to hear it as well.
“god, you feel so good and warm.” rafe moans, immediately beginning to thrust, not wanting to take you away from your girls night for too long.
his hand wraps around your front, reaching down to rub at your clit while his other hand holds your hips steady, the slapping sound of your skin meeting together echoing around the bathroom walls.
“you're mine.” rafe huffs out, as if you need reminding.
his thrusts become wilder as the minutes pass by of him pressing into your cunt until you lose yourself to the high that rushes over your body.
rafe has to grab your hips to keep you upright as your pussy clenches around him, only a few more thrusts before rafe is spilling into you with a moan of your name.
“shit, i already want you again.” rafe laughs, pressing you into the wall as his cock finishes pulsing inside of you, needing to make sure hes filled you up as much as possible before he pulls your underwear and shorts back up.
“rafe, im gonna leak all over the couch-” you complain before he interrupts you.
“oh well.” the devious smile on his face tells all.
you pout as he gets redressed, opening the door like nothing at all happened.
“come on.” rafe holds his hand out to you, proudly walking you back into the living room.
“well, i can’t blame you for keeping rafe around all the time.” tina giggles as you retake your place on the couch, your face bright red.
“its me who needs her around all the time.” rafe smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while you pull the blanket up over your face in embarrassment.
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rafescvntyclubgf · 2 months ago
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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼
𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬
𝔻𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: ℂ𝕠𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕦𝕥 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 ℙ𝕚𝕖
𝙾𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
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*part of the “Milkshake” AU — writen to be read alone.
warnings: dark!rafe, dark!reader, older!rafe (30s), jealous!rafe, perv!rafe, obsessed!rafe, fetishizes simple things the reader does, swearing, teasing, threats, begging, bribes for sex, cheating on spouse (sofia), semi public handjob, cum tasting, choking, angst, begging, shower sex, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, brief oral (female receiving)
📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! This was not a kinkmas ask, but I made it one 😋 The premise is that you hooked up with your best friend Rafe a few months back. He admitted to being obsessed with you and was even willing to pay for you to be intimate because he was so desperate. Since then, you have been hooking up, and he promised he would leave Sofia, but he hasn't yet, and you're getting impatient. When you show up for Christmas dinner at the Camerons with your ex Kelce, you can't help but smile while Rafe squirms.
❕note about Sofia: please remember this is a dark!reader fic. She doesn't like Sofia, and she's vocal about that. Sofia is solely there for the plot❕
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Reader's POV:
The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, a sheen of perfection glossing over every interaction as it always did when Sofia hosted. The table was set—fine china, crystal glasses, formal centerpieces that screamed kook royalty.
Sofia smiled her perfect smile, stealing glances at her perfect husband. How could you not hate her? Not in the petty passing way that you would hate someone for being too poised or too sweet. You despised Sofia because she embodied everything you weren’t: composed, polished, obedient. And maybe that’s what he wanted me to be—doubtful, given the way he’s staring.
And despite having the perfect wife and life, he kept coming back to you.
You let your finger trail along the edge of the wine glass, eyes shifting to Rafe’s. His gaze follows your fingers as they do… Until someone startles him, Rafe comes to smile and laugh at shit he didn’t hear, just dreaming about your slight fingers tracing up his hard dick just like that—just like they were the night before.
And then his eyes cut fast: one seat to your right where Kelce sits. Your ex and one of his best friends turned ex-best friends no less than two hours ago when you showed up at the Cameron's front door, one hand holding Kelce’s, the other clutching a bottle of Sofia’s favorite wine.
Kelce had no idea what he was walking into tonight. You hadn’t seen him in years, and truthfully, you weren’t sure why you invited him in the first place… A smile rolls across your lips as you draw your wine glass to your mouth, taking a sip, living in that lie for another moment.
You wanted to watch Rafe squirm…
His jaw coils as Kelce leans in, complimenting your dress as his hand rests against your thigh. You let out a breathy laugh—the kind of laugh that has Rafe adjusting in his seat. The wood creaks on the other side of you; the man quickly clears his throat before asking for something else from down the table.
Rafe’s focus is shameless, burning a hole into your back as you reach up, fixing the collar of Kelce’s button down shirt. Rafe taps his ring against his glass in a subtle attempt to pull your attention back to him, but there’s nothing subtle about Rafe Cameron…
“Could you pass me that, baby,” Rafe mumbles, and you turn to him. His eyes are there when you bend back, gesturing lazily to something down the table, but his words also catch Sofia. That little ‘baby’ reached both of your ears, making Rafe draw a deep, flustered breath.
He chooses to ignore it, and so does she. You reach for the coconut cream pie, passing it to Rafe with a knowing smile. His eyes follow your fingers, your thumb dipping in the sweet treat.
“Rafe,” Sofia chirps, the tone in her voice letting you know that that wasn’t the first time she tried to catch his attention. You were so focused on each other that you missed her first attempt. Rafe glances at her, gripping the table's edge, trying desperately to keep his eyes on his wife, but he knows what you’re about to do next.
She asks him about his work trip, inviting Topper and Ruthie into the conversation in an attempt to merge the ends of the table in conversation—possibly trying to cut the tension she was feeling between the two of you too. Rafe’s words get lost on his lips as he watches yours wrap around your thumb, sucking it clean.
He quickly realigns his focus, talking about his conference in Vancouver—the one he had been begging you to meet him for. And just when he’s about to drop some figures, he tumbles over his words, swallowing thickly before starting again when he feels your fingers walk over to his thigh.
His features sharpen as you delicately trace the inner seam of his pants, watching him as he tries to keep his composure.
Topper starts to speak, and Rafe breathes a sigh of relief, glancing down at his lap for a moment without Sofia’s watchful eye.
Your hand widens, cupping his bulge, making him bite his lips and flare his nose to hold back a moan.
He swallows thickly, his broad chest rising and falling, flexing tightly on his exhale as he tries his best to continue his conversation with the Thorntons as you start to stoke him over his dress pants.
Rafe’s tongue runs along his red bottom lip, having bitten it so hard he drew blood. You reach over with your other hand, grabbing his napkin by mistake, dabbing the corners of your lips, letting it fall between your thighs.
You separate your legs, dragging the linen napkin up your soaked slit. Passing it to Rafe with a gentle “Sorry, I think this is yours.”
He shakes his head and grits his teeth as you rub his dick with one hand and fix the bottom of your dress with the other. “S’fine,” he mumbles gently, pressing the words past his quivering lips.
Rafe looks at the napkin, resisting momentarily before lifting it to his face, rubbing his mouth. His eyes shut, taking in the scent lingering far too long. He rests it on the counter, a wet mark of his salvia left behind.
Your fingers work his clothed cock over and over, Rafe’s muscular thighs trembling with each push of your hand. His cock throbs underneath your palm, pushing against his zipper so hard you just know it hurts.
Rafe looks up to the ceiling, shutting his eyes for a moment before letting them roll back in his skull in peace, not wanting everyone else to see the pleasure radiating from between his thighs.
His fists close into tight balls at the table, pushing down into the hardwood to keep himself soundless, trying to leave his face as unchanged as possible when you look his way. “Toronto sounds nice,” you smile.
Rafe reaches up, running his hand across his forehead and through his hair, catching the sweat that gathered on his brow. “So nice,” he mumbles.
He reaches down, snatching your wrist, holding you in place, squeezing you with the cadence of the heavy loads spurting in his pants. He hangs his head slightly, releasing your hand, muscles firing hot as you run your fingers over his warm, wet, spent pooled on his lap.
Your hands drift back, fingers lifting to your lips, sucking the tips of your middle and your pointer fingers. Rafe’s eyes tighten on yours, lust-blow and irate.
He looks down at his pants again, seeing the mess, before returning his eyes to you. Rafe’s gaze stays locked as he lifts his wine glass to his lips, purposefully missing, letting the red liquor fall to his lap, concealing the mess. “Shit,” he huffs, directing his frustrations at you more than anything else, wetting his linen napkin in water before rubbing it clean, spreading it all out.
“Oh, Rafey,” Sofia scolds him playfully, her words slurring.
“It’s fine. Alright?” He snips, his lip twitching in a scowl toward you as you pour yourself another glass of wine. You look across the table at Sofia, catching her empty glass. Ever the polite guest, draining the rest of the bottle of Pontet Canet for her with a smile.
“For you,” you coo.
”Excuse me,” Rafe mumbles as he pushes the seat out, heading toward the stairs as the couples leave.
Sofia stands up, wobbling slightly from one too many glasses of wine. You lean into Kelce, but he already knows what you’ll say. “I’ll meet you at the car,” he whispers through a soft, judgemental chuckle.
You walk around the table, looping your arm around Sofia’s. “Let me help you up the stairs,” you say, for her ears only. She gives you a gentle smile and accepts the offer.
As soon as her head hits the pillow, her eyes are shut, just a purr of a snore slipping her perfect lips as you tuck her in, turning toward the door.
Rafe’s big body darkens the exit, his shadow casting ominously across the floor. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and tight.
“Tomorrow. Kelce’s waiting for me in the car,” you whisper as you head toward the door, veering around him. He grabs for you, pulling you in close.
”Tomorrow?” He spits, his jaw set. “Right fuckin’ now. What the hell are you doin’ with Kelce?”
”What’s wrong with Kelce?” You ask dumbly, making Rafe smirk and roll his eyes at you. “You should put some stain remover on that, Rafey,” you whisper as you cup his bulge, making him hiss. “Wine is real hard to get out.”
“Kelce?” He ignores you completely as he steps closer.
”Why does it matter?”
”You know damn well why it fuckin’ matters,” he hisses.
“Not a clue,” you laugh breathily. “I have no idea why that would matter to you, Rafe. Maybe I should ask your wife why the fuck you would care about me if you have her.”
”Enough-”
”Please,” you scoff as you push past him, but he grabs for you harder this time, shoving you up against the wall hard enough for knick-knacks to clatter. Rafe looks back at Sofia, her body unmoved, sleeping peacefully in their bed. His eyes snap to yours, his grip tightening on you in frustration, pinning you against the wall.
“What the fuck is going on with you, huh?” He grunts; the both of breathing heavily, lips mere inches away from each other, making his eyes fall, wetting his own.
“I’m done waiting around,” you whisper.
“Stop,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous. His hand finds its way around your throat, squeezing tighter. “Stop actin’ like this shit is easy for me.”
”Let me go,” you gag the words out as your lips curl into a smirk.
Rafe’s eyes roll back when he sees your lips curl, growling in frustration before turning you around; pushing you up into the wall. He grabs your hips, pressing his clothed dick into your ass as you arch your back.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans as he paws for the bottom of your dress, pulling it around your hips. His big hands wrap around the front of your body, rough fingers gliding through your soaked folds as he moans in your ear.
”Rafe…” You whisper as you circle your hips; the man teasing your entrance with his big fingers.
“Sweetheart?” His deep voice vibrates against your neck, lips skimming your hot skin.
“I’m taking Kelce back to my place,” you whisper as you turn your cheek slightly, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “So when you text me, begging me to let you in, and I don’t answer… Well, I’m guessing you know the rest.”
“You’re lying,” he mumbles, his voice laced with doubt.
“Hey, baby. You good?” You hear Kelce’s voice echo from the bottom of the staircase.
“Tell your wife dinner was lovely,” you smile.
Rafe lets you go reluctantly, stepping out in the hall to watch you as you walk away, heels clicking along the hardwood floor, giving him one last parting look and a smile.
The drive back to your house was electric—your phone vibrated with back-to-back notifications from Rafe, panicking over you and the utterly oblivious man in your driver's seat.
Once you got home, you poured yourself a glass of wine and started the shower, letting your party dress fall to the floor. You snapped some pictures before sending them off…
You bit your lip and smiled, thinking about the last picture you included as well—an old shot of you and Kelce, the bathroom mirror hazy—his hands covering all the right spots. There was no nasty message, no witty caption. The implication was clear.
It didn’t take long.
You look out your bedroom window, watching Rafe’s BMW peel down the dark road, his tires screeching to a stop outside. Rafe’s car door swings open and slams shut, doing the same to your front door until his heavy feet are pounding inside.
He calls your name from the bottom of the steps, his voice raw and hoarse with fear. You stay quiet, letting the sounds of the running water answer for you. Rafe’s footsteps thunder up the stairs as he curses under his breath, mumbling about the things he'd do next.
Rafe throws open the door; his face, a storm of emotions—anger, desperation, guilt as he struggles for a breath, his big hand clutching his chest as he fights for air. “You’re fucking insane,” he shouts as he sees you dry and alone, sitting on the end of your bed in a satin robe with a glass of wine. You raise an eyebrow, challenging him with your glare.
“Am I?” You ask, taking another sip.
“You were trying to make me lose my shit,” he snaps as he steps forward.
“Oh no…” You pout your lip condescendingly. “And it worked, didn't it?”
“You’re bein’ cruel. Jesus— we’re friends. You're my best friend, and you're treatin’ me like this? This is a mess, and it’s all your fuckin’ fault,” he screams, seeing red.
“How?” You laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
“You knew how fuckin’ weak I am when it comes to you, and you fuckin’ seduced me. Okay?”
“And you paid me to keep going,” you counter. “You could have ignored it, Rafe. You were the one who begged me for more.”
“Your… Fuck. Your-” Rafe words fall away as you tug at the satin bow of your robe, letting it fall open.
“You told me you’d leave her, Rafe. You promised. But here we are, alone in my house,” you whisper as his muscles strain, holding himself from reaching out for you. “And you're still playing house with Sofia.”
“I know,” he groans as he reaches out, touching the space between your robe, tracing your bare skin.
“You wanna talk about friendship? You lied to me.”
“M’sorry,” he whispers as he closes the gap between you, lowering one side of your robe, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “I’ll leave her tomorrow,” he says, his voice breaking. “I swear to you, I will. Just… Don’t push me away,” he pleads. “And we’re not just friends. That’s fucking bullshit n’ you know it,” he mumbles as his lips meet your neck.
You lower the other side of the robe, the delicate material falling around your feet before you look up at Rafe. His blue eyes are locked on your body, studying you as you step away. He follows you close, pulling off his clothes with each step.
“Beg,” you say softly as you look over your shoulder before stepping inside. Rafe’s eyes soften on yours—his desperation tragic as you pull the door shut, leaving him outside.
“I’m begging you,” he pleads as he stands at the glass door, the shadow of his big body looming as he waits for you to say, ‘Okay.’ “You want me to pay you, baby? You want my money? Take it this time, alright? Anything you want.”
“I have plenty of money, Rafe.”
“Here…” He mumbles as his shadow shifts along the fogged glass, moving into the bedroom before running back in. “$5000 cash right now, all my credit cards, my Rolex, MY FUCKIN’ CAR,” he panics as he slams his keys on the counter.
“Your car, Rafe,” you chuckle breathily.
“If I had more to give you right now, I'd give it to you, I swear to Christ,” he rambles as his big hands rest on the other side of the glass, sliding down the condensation. “Please. Just let me inside. Alright? I'll make this right.” You watch him reach down, grabbing the handle, unsure if he’ll even wait for your go-ahead, the man so painfully obsessed he might just take that risk. “Please-”
“You have one chance, Rafe-” As soon as his name leaves your lips, the door swings open. Rafe pushes you up against the cold tile, pinning you against the wall just like he did in his bedroom.
His lips crash against yours, kissing you fast and hard, leaving you reaching for a breath just for him to steal it again. "Turn around,” he mutters, but before you can act, he turns you fast, his patience long gone. “Been thinkin’ about this… Always think about you,” he mumbles drunkenly as he grabs your hips, pulling your ass flush against him, his thick cock nestled between your plush thighs. He grabs his length, tapping his tip against your ass before running himself through your wet slit. “Thought I lost you… Losing my goddamn fuckin’ mind, and I'm still thinkin’ about this pussy-”
“Rafe!” Your voice bounces off the shower walls as he slams into you. His moan echoes closely behind as he bottoms you out.
“That’s it. Mmm, baby… Holy shit,” he hums, getting his fix as his rough hands circle your ass, slipping up your back. Before you can beg for more, his hands grab your shoulders, drilling into you from the back as water rushes between the two of you. “So fucking tight,” he grunts between rough thrusts, leaving you gasping as your hands slip against the wall from the impact.
“Choke me,” you cry as you feel your pleasure burn in your belly.
“Mpfhh… Fuckin’ love you,” he whines as his fingers find your throat, wrapping around you tight. The sound of skin slapping skin gets louder and louder, your heart racing as your pleasure mounts.
“Fuck, Rafe,” you sob, voice cracking from his tight grip.
“Cum for me,” he groans. “Make a mess for me, princess. Let me clean it up.”
Your eyes roll back in your head, pulsing around his long, fat cock. Rafe pulls you back by your throat, wrapping his arms around your neck and your waist as he fills your pussy with his cum and your ears with his fuck-out moans.
Rafe hangs his head momentarily, catching his breath, lips pressed against your shoulder. He lets out a satisfied breath as he lowers himself to his knees, grabbing your hips, turning you around as you smile down at him, your chest rising and falling fast as you giggle. He presses little kisses against your hips, burning his face against you momentarily before pulling back, his beautiful eyes in a daze.
“What are you doing, baby?” You whirr as you run your nails through his hair.
Rafe takes your thigh, looping it over his shoulder; he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss against your clit, making you whimper in sensitivity.
“Cleaning up the mess, princess.”
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