#i felt my heart crack open
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Rare personal post I'm gonna blame on the happy brain chemicals, but Green Day will always be *the* music band in my eyes and I still can't believe I got to see them prove it.
#this concert was So Much in so many ways#American Idiot turned 20 this year -and Dookie turned 30 ofc-#which means it's also been 20 yrs since I've loved them?#and the 3rd or 4th time I've tried to see them live#doubt there would've been a more suitable venue than Wembley for all these reasons#jfc I was so overwhelmed at the very end a few guys in front of me were like âAre you alrightâ#no why doesn't everyone start crying at these things pshaaah#my heart is so full. I felt like I was being cracked open in the best -and most sobering- of ways. Found a piece of me I'd long thought I'd#lost#but anyway.#âHeeeeyooo /heeeeyoâ#âI started fucking running as soon as my feet touched grooooundâ#personal#Billie Joe I love you so. so much#Always will.
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âhoney, iâm home.â
simon, presumed dead for the past five years, appears at your doorstep, very much alive.
the knock at the door cut through the quiet night like a knife, startling you from restless sleep. rain hammered against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks. your heart pounded in your chest as you shuffled toward the door, dread curling deep in your stomach. no one visited at this hour. not anymore.
you hesitated at the door, hand trembling slightly on the knob. for a moment, you thought about ignoring itâletting whoever it was go unanswered. but something pulled you forward, a strange sense of familiarity, even though you couldnât place it.
when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.
there, standing on your doorstep, was simon.
simon stood before you, drenched from the rain, looking like a ghost dragged back from the edge of the world. his hair clung to his forehead, water dripping down his pale face, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. it had been five years since youâd gazed into those stormy eyesâfive years of grief, heartache, and learning how to live without him. his familiar eyes, shadowed by exhaustion and pain, locked onto yours. his clothes were soaked, his body thinner than you remembered, like he had fought every step of the way just to stand on your doorstep.
your breath hitched painfully. âwake up,â you said to yourself, heart racing. âplease⊠wake up.â
but you didnât.
âlovieâŠâ simon whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse, as if he hadnât used it for a long time. âiâm home.â
your mind swirled and shock paralyzing you. it felt like a cruel trick your mind had conjured. the world around you blurred, and your heart ached in your chest. it couldnât be real. he couldnât be here.
simonâs expression softened, and without a word, before you could react, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. he reached for you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation, and the breath left your lungs. his grip was tight, desperate, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. his cold, rain-soaked body pressed against yours, but you didnât care.
he was here.
you froze for a moment, and then, slowly, your hands gripped the wet fabric of his jacket, your chest pressed against his. tears welled in your eyes, the disbelief crashing into a flood of emotionsârelief, anger, and love. his familiar scent, rain-soaked, earthy, and undeniably him, flooded your senses, overwhelming you.
âthey told me you were dead,â you sobbed against him, your fists clinging to his jacket as if that could keep him here. âthey said your plane crashed. that you were gone.â
you clung to him, your heart shattering in your chest. he held you as if afraid you might slip through his fingers, as if his entire world depended on you being real.
simon buried his face into your hair, holding you tighter, his breath shaky. âevery bloody day, i fought my way back for you,â he said, his voice heavy with the weight of everything heâd endured. âyou were the only reason i stayed alive.â
you sobbed harder, burying your face into his chest, your knees nearly giving out beneath you. all the years of mourning him, the endless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, the desperate ache of thinking youâd lost him foreverâall of it shattered in his arms.
but then, simonâs grip on you faltered. something had shifted in the way he held you. slowly, he pulled back just enough to look down at your hand. his thumb brushing over the bare space where your wedding ring used to sit.
his body tensed. he pulled back slightly, just enough to glance down at your hand, and his breath hitched. the wedding ring you once wore was gone.
âwhereâs your ring?â he asked, voice quiet but edged with something fragile, as if the answer might break him.
your throat tightened, guilt and sorrow clawing at your chest. âsimonâŠâ you started, voice cracking under the weight of it all.
his jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked past you. thatâs when he saw themânew photos hanging on the walls. the ones of you and him were gone, replaced by pictures of you and someone else.
it was like the air had been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenched, shoulders sagging under the realization. his face a mask of exhaustion and heartbreak as the weight of what he was seeing sank in.
you looked away, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. âi waitedâŠâ you whispered. âeven when they told me there wasnât a chance you were alive, i tried.â
his face didnât change, but the subtle pain and betrayal in his eyes was unmistakable. âi came back for you,â he uttered softly, almost to himself. âi told you iâd come to you.â
âi thought you were gone,â you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. âi didnât know how to keep waiting when they told me youâd never come back.â
simonâs hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. despite everything, his touch was tender, grounding. âi didnât survive just to be a memory, sweetheart,â he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. âi fought every day to come back to you. and if i have to fight again⊠i will.â
you leaned into him, your heart breaking and mending all at once. the years apart, the lost momentsâthey still weighed heavy, but he was here. he had kept his promise, and that was all that mattered now.
âi told you iâd come back,â he said, voice low but steady. âand iâm not going anywhere. not ever again.â
#cod#cod fanfiction#simon ghost riley#simon riley blurbs#simon riley headcanons#call of duty#simon riley#task force 141#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley blurbs#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#angst#simon ghost riley headcanon#ghost x reader#simon riley angst#cod x reader#simon riley drabbles#simon riley headcanon#modern warfare#cod ghost
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ExHusband!Simon x Reader
You Want a Divorce? (Two)
Note: I feel like this is so bad im sorry!!!!
CW: Angst, titty sucking, passionate asf sex, simon missed ur pussy and you very much and vise versa, breeding kink, PIV (no protection, pls use it irl), squirting, simon eats the FUCK out of ur pussy, multiple orgasms, praise, hint of degradation, possessive!simon, OVERSTIMULATION, slight daddy kink⊠sorry
Part One
It was a quiet ride, the subtle sweeps of cars fleeting by as Simon gripped the wheel, eyes trailing off to the side to look at you briefly. Your head was leaned against the window, your knees knocking together anxiously as your daughter babbled in the back, cooing about how Mummy and Daddy were now back together.
You tried to hide the shed of tears that filtered across your iris, every small childish mumble like a stab to the gut as you listened to the genuine happiness in her tone. You would turn around occasionally with a small smile as you reached out to tickle her foot, giggles filling the car.
Simon pulled in, the car bouncing slightly as it hit the gravel carpark, his hand swerving into a spot before he turned to the back. âYou excited, baby?â
Ellaâs face lit up as she fumbled to take off her seatbelt, âGet me, Daddy! Get me! I wanna see the lions!â It was refreshing knowing she still viewed Simon as her hero, no matter how distant he was in their lives. You knew that even though your ex-husband was rarely around, his time with them did everything it could to mend the time apart. Toby woke up at the commotion, the toddler having slept the whole way there despite his older sisterâs constant bickering about what animals she had to see first.
Everything seemed to flash past you as you walked inside, the whir of kids and noise sending your brain into overdrive as your eyes flickered to Simon with Ella swinging around on his shoulders and Toby kicking his legs in the stroller. You looked away; breath shaky as you attempted to compose yourself. This was supposed to be a happy day, for all of you, yet seeing him with your children, something that was supposed to be normal, felt so distant and unknown. Gathering yourself, you plastered a fake smile, hands reaching out to pinch your sonâs cheeks as you grabbed the stroller.
Your heart hammered in your chest for the remainder of the day, fingers tingling with anxiety that bled into your veins, consuming your lungs with what seemed like everything but oxygen. It was a series of squeals and commotions from your young ones, their elation evident through the bright glow of their face, soft red resting on the apples of their cheeks. As the day quieted down, Toby slumped in the stroller as you tucked him into the car seat, his new plush crocodile cradled into his arms, mouth wide open as subtle breaths snored out.
Ella was cradled into Simonâs shoulder, her shoes half hanging off as she clutched onto him, dead asleep. You settled into the ride home yet your anxiety only seemed to heighten. You were alone with Simon, with no kiddish voices to break the tension, brown orbs glaring into the side of your face.
âShould we talk about this morning?â
You scoffed. âYou have some nerve asking to talk about this morning,â you screamed into a hush, âWhat you did was completely disrespectful. Not only did you break into my house and kick my date out, but you left our kids in the car! What the fuck were you thinking?â
He cleared his throat, almost like he wanted to hold back how he felt. You noticed the white in his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, right eye twitching as he stared at the squiggles of tar ahead. âI donât want our kids growing up thinking itâs normal for parents to separate. They need their mum and dad together, y/n.â
The world silenced for a second, the screams of the wind rushing past you seemed to slow as your voice cracked, seeps of emotion pouring out as you choked on your breath, âThen you should have fought for your family, Simon. There is no us anymore, itâs just them. Theyâre all that connects us now.â
You felt like all the ivory had been sucked out of your eyes, endless pits of your pupil consuming you whole, blurring your vision with fog as you blinked, hot streams of liquid salt spilling onto your cheeks, brimming at the cracks of your lips as you sniffled. You could feel his hesitation as he looked at you.
His words regurgitated in his throat as he stammered, tangled limbs reaching out to grip yours as you pulled away.
âJust drop us home.â
Your eyes had dried now, soft stains of bare skin caving through your foundation as you smudged your fingers against it. Simon stuttered as he pulled up to the driveway, tyres screeching to a halt as you sat in silence.
The soft strum of fingers caught your attention as you turned around, the innocent face of Toby looking back at his parents, tongue blabbing out of his mouth. âDadda! You have dinner?â
âNo, sport. Daddyâs gotta go-â
âYeah, baby. Daddy will have dinner with us.â
You blinked at your own words, Simonâs surprised expression meeting yours. The wrench in your heart would never subside, the entirety of the beating organ still belonging to your ex-husband, but being a mother was a sacrifice. And you would sacrifice yourself in every existence you become one if it meant your children didnât have to battle the same internal wounds.
âTheyâre tucked in,â Simon said, voice soft as he noticed your withered body in the couch. Your hair was messy now, strands spitting out as you anxiously tucked them back in, smoothing them down with the dampness of your palms as you ran around all night, ushering to the demands of your children.
âThank you.â
You felt ill, your tongue cascading down your throat as you palmed at your knees, desperate for him to leave yet desperate for him to stay. Simon stilled, keys jangling in his hand before he sat down next to you, his weight disrupting the couch as he shuffled around.
âI need you to know that I did want to fight for you, y/n. I have counted every single day since you handed me those papers, waiting by my phone every single night on deployment hoping for you to text me, call me, fuck - blow my phone up. I never wanted the temporary absence that we had apart become permanent. Everything I said,â he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he looked away, âEverything I said on October 6th, 7 years ago, I meant. You werenât supposed to get away from me - I shouldnât have - I shouldnât have let you get away from me.â
It was strange. Simon was never one for feelings, the brutality of his job allowed for any harsh emotions to crack through his fingers as he pulled a trigger, any dampness of tears would sweat through his skin as he pummelled a blade into an enemies head.
But it was you. And you werenât violent, or any enemy, you were his wife, the person he vowed his entirety too.
Your anxious cascade cracked as you whimpered out a sob, chest heaving as you buried your face, tight with tears, into the pillows of your hands. You felt warmth spread through you, the texture of Simonâs fingers burning through you like wildfire, every ember he felt scorching through your flesh as he pulled you in.
Arms tangled together, intwining like wool as he wrapped you into his chest nimbly. A zephyr ran through you, your wrists clutched in his hands as you straddled him, the weight of you feeling like the grandest treasure upon him.
It was nothing strange, nor sexual but Simon recognised that cry, the differing pitch as you shuffled your frame into his. Simon knew you like the back of his hand, every crevice, every crease, every scar. He knew your backstory, and the one you made up to impress people. He knew the hex of the colour of your eyes and the print of your thumb. No papers would take that away from him.
Soaked eyelashes clumped into one as you looked up at him, orbs resembling once of a doe, innocence seeping through every inch of a salt-stained tear. His eyes met yours, apertures of cocoa reflecting your weary frame as you gripped onto him.
âLet me come home, please.â
Simonâs voice was desperate, it was raw, any shed of arrogance erased through the lines, eyebrows knotted together as he rubbed at the small of your back.
Your nod was subtle, but he could practically hear it, calloused hands gripping at the plush of your cheek and seeping through the tip of your spine, thumb rubbing at your earlobe as he clutched onto you.
Hot, seething pricks ran through your limbs as your lips connected, saline lining your mouth as he lapped at the heat of your tongue, rough groans leaving his lips as he savoured the taste.
Any diffidence left your body as familiarity sunk back into you. Hands pawed at the globe of your ass, gripping the flesh as anguished limbs wrapped around Simonâs waist.
With an easy tug, he lifted you, your hands wrapping around his neck as he pulled you in closer, teeth kissing. You never questioned Simonâs strength, and you wouldnât start now as you felt your back hit your mattress.
He tugged at his shirt, the black fabric pooling on the floor as you sucked in a breath. Your eyes traced every scar, lighter flesh engraved into the skin of his torso, a short trail of hair disappearing into his pants as you stared at his burly physique.
Simon gripped at your shirt, the material practically ripping before his hands were at your chest, grabbing at your flesh desperately as you tangled your fingers into your bra, sliding it off. His mouth was hot on your chest, the sound of moans and pants filling the air as he positioned himself between your legs, teeth grazing the hard nubs, sucking with fervour as you whined, your hand at the base of his head, cradling it.
âMissed these so fucking much,â he practically whined, groping your tits as he pinched your nipples, lips sucking deep marks of possession into the soft skin. Your pants were desperate, begging him for more as you pulled his hair, fingernails clawing at his scalp.
Your hands fumbled with your pants, hips raising as he slid them off, clumsy fingers chucking them across the room as you laughed, lips connecting once more in a giggly state as his thumb pushed against the wetness of your panties.
âMissed how fucking wet you got for me. Such a good fucking girl,â he groaned, fingers rubbing at your heat through the thin cloth eliciting a pained moan from you.
âSimon - I need more, been so long.â
He choked out a laugh as his fingers hooked into the fabric, lace dribbling down your leg before he mewled at the sight of you. His hands held your thighs apart, your soaking cunt on display as it throbbed, slick folds glistening in the poor lighting.
âPrettiest fucking pussy,â he choked out to himself, placing your legs over his shoulder as he knelt down. Your back arched as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe of your pussy, his body seething for a taste of you as his lips found your neglected clit.
He lapped at you mercilessly, your cries and moans moulding into one with the filthy squelches of his mouth against your heat. Long digits circled your entrance, teasing you, before they curled in.
Your eyes rolled, pools of ivory exposed as you let out a guttural moan, your thighs tightening around his ears as he smirked against your pussy. Cocky fingers rubbed at the right spot, favouring the clench of your tight hole as he pulled every noise he could get from you.
You were barely cohesive as he lapped at your slick, the throbbing of your clit edging him on as he soothed your g-spot with the pad of his fingers. The coil you had only ever felt with Simon began to build, the familiar sensation pooling in your stomach as you stuttered out a whimper.
âSi- too much - Iâm gonna-â
âThatâs it baby,â he cooed, pulling away from your pussy for a second to take in your expression as you came, your face contorted with pleasure as your legs jerked, pussy wrapping tighter around his abusing digits as he fucked you through it with them. You looked down at him, saliva and your slick coating his mouth and chin as he grinned.
You stammered out a groan as his mouth attached back on your pussy, slurping up your liquid gold as you attempted to push his head away in overstimulation.
âOh my- fuck - Simon - too much,â you whimpered your words commanding him to continue as he guzzled around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive bud as your legs shook uncontrollably.
It wasnât long before the continuation from your previous orgasm rose again, heat swarming your lower belly as you screamed out, your hand slapping over your mouth as you felt Simonâs spare hand wrap around your thigh, squeezing tightly.
You pulled at his hair, tugging at the ashy roots before you were gushing around his fingers and tongue again, sloshing liquids soaking your sheets as he groaned at the taste, mouth lapping it up with vigour. You whined in humiliation, the overwhelming pleasure becoming too much as you heaved.
âSi - no more -â
âIâm sorry baby, too fucking good. Will never get enough of your pussy.â
His words were filthy yet only held the truth, his continuous slurps against your heat causing your body to jerk as you relentlessly bucked your hips. Simonâs abuse continued on your pussy, your pussy gushing and coming another 6 times before he was satisfied, the sheet under you drenched in both your slick and squirt as Simon milked your overwhelmed cunt, claiming he was âmaking up for the months lostâ.
You were dry heaving, throat dry as he captured your lips in a kiss, the taste of you infiltrating into your glands as you groaned, his hands reaching to tug at your breasts as he took in your fucked out state, legs jiggling and twitching as your pussy convulsed at the number of orgasms he dragged out of you.
You felt like you had been lying here for hours, yet you werenât satisfied. You would only be content when he was inside you, stretching you to the brim as he pumped a load inside your worn-out hole.
âSimon - please - I canât⊠I need you now,â you were practically crying, tears shedding at the brim of your eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, slicking back the sweat on your forehead.
âI know baby, done so well for Daddy, hm? Even after all that you still need to be plugged full of me donât you?â
You nodded as a harsh slap landed against your clit, your body jolting as you squeaked. âYes, please,â you cried, âPlease Daddy.â
His hands were like clockwork, tearing at his jeans as they released his cock, a satisfied groan leaving his body as he gripped at the tent in his pants, a sticky wet patch soaking the material before his length throbbed out, angry tip slapping his stomach as a trail of precum glistened against the base of his cock.
His dick was flushed red, begging for release as he ran it through the squelch of your sopping folds, rubbing against your manipulated clit as you moaned.
Your hands gripped his head as he leant down to kiss you, his arm holding him up while the other positioned himself at your entrance. He stilled for a moment, cock almost pressing in before he whispered, âI love you.â
âI love you.â
The words were soft yet meaningful, your eyes interlocked as he began to push inside, your mouth gasping open as you clutched onto his shoulders. It was hard when you were together all those years to get accustomed to his frightening length, and now it had been a year and the stretch was searing through you.
âI know, sweet girl, you can take it. Such a tight cunt for me, so fucking good.â
Fingernails clawed at his back as he pushed in, your whines muffled by the palm of his hand as he held himself up his elbows. âHoly fuck,â he spluttered as he bottomed out, his lips connecting to your neck as he sucked, resting inside you for a second as you whimpered.
The burn slowly faded as you rutted against him impatiently, the tip of his cock resting against your sweet spot as you gasped.
âSo fucking impatient, always been such a slut for me. Havenât you?â
You nodded, whining as he began to move, moving his hips slowly as he rubbed inside you perfectly, your mouth wide open as your head lolled back. A series of expletives tipped from your tongue as you choked on the air, Simonâs pace picking up at your dramatic noises.
âFuck - taking me so well-â he grunted, hands groping at your tits as he watched your pussy absorb his length. It was an obscene sight and he loved it. Every fibre of your being belonged to him and it was something he constantly craved.
âAll fucking mine - shit - my fucking pussy,â he grunted, thumb rubbing at your clit as you mewled, twitching below him as he spat, âmy fucking wife - got the tightest fucking cunt just for me.â
You clenched around him at his words, knowing it was true as his balls slapped against your ass, skin spanking against each other as the sound filled the room, ecstasy roaring through both of your veins as you made love.
The squelch of your pussy was taboo as he lapped in the missed sound. His eyes took in the way your body reacted to every movement, no matter how small. He took in the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, lower stomach bulging as he pounded into you.
âFuck - Simon - oh my God,â your words were a mere blabber, barely making sense as you clutched onto him, pulling him down to meet your lips.
âI canât pull out, baby - fuck - gotta cum in this pretty pussy. Give you another kid, hm? - shit -â
His hips didnât falter as his pace fastened, chasing his own high as he rubbed at your clit, your breaths growing shallow as your orgasm began to build. âGonna fill you with my cum until it takes. Need your belly round again and your tits full - such a good fucking mum, makes me so fucking proud.â
His words were the final straw as the build up in your stomach popped, your whole body convulsing as your pussy clenched around him, a loud groan leaving his throat before you felt the hot splashes of his cum pumping inside you.
âThatâs it baby, milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl for Daddy, gonna break you apart everyday on my cock until you never forget who you belong too.â
He didnât pull out immediately, his cum plugged inside you as some seeped out, rolling down the crevice of your ass below you. Your eyes shut, gentle pants leaving your lips as you felt Simonâs absence before a soft cloth was wiped gently across your sex and masculine arms were gripping onto you, carrying you into the guest room before engulfing you into a thrill of heat, Simonâs chest against your back as you fell asleep.
TAGLIST: @kiiwiipie @nijiru
Disclaimer: im sorry if this is disappointing im super tired :(((
#evilgwrl#call of duty x reader#141 x reader#ghost smut#simon riley#ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost smut#simon riley x female reader#simon riley fluff#simon riley angst#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#simon ghost x you
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The Other Man H.S
Summary:Â Where y/n's husband opens up her marriage and she meets Harry on Tinder...
Warning: Smut, oral (f & m recieving), penetration, dirty talk (degradation & praise), spanking, squirting, I think that's it?
Word count:Â 13.5k+
Author's note: Hellooo long time no see! It feels like forever since I posted anything and I do apologise for that my brain was taking a hiatus apparently but hopefully I can get back into the groove! This probably needs editing but I hope you like it anywayy.
- Find my General Masterlist here -
âSo⊠do you do this a lot?â
âWhat do you mean?â You took a sip of your wine, trying to sate the erratic nerves jumping within the walls of your body. Not even a few drinks before you arrived to your date could save you.Â
âGo on Tinder dates.âÂ
Harry, the man who effortlessly charmed you when your friends encouraged you to swipe right on him seemed as relaxed as ever. He had this calm and sensual aura about him that existed through every little thing he did. His smile, the way he thanked the waitress, the way he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and guided you to the table with a hand on the small of your back. Everything.Â
It was all a little too charming for your first date back in the game. Part of you even wished it would be a disaster. Then you reminded yourself that there had to be a first date. That you had to reclaim your desirability and get back into the dating scene to find yourself again. It had been three months after all, nearly four since your marriage blew up in your face and everything about your life changed.Â
You felt like you were ready. Or at least willing to give it a crack.
âYou seem a little nervous, thatâs why I ask. I didnât mean to offend you.â Harry spoke up again when you didnât answer right away.Â
âYou didnât offend me,â you assured, blushing at the way you got so caught up in the attraction of him, âbut is it really that obvious?â You shook your head, laughing softly like the idea of actually being on a date was unfathomable. It was. To you anyway; especially given the fact that the man sitting in front of you wasnât your husband. âThis is my first date in⊠a while.â
âItâs not obvious.â Harry laughed softly, running his hand through his hair. âBut itâs okay to be nervous. Iâm nervous too.â
âYou are?â Your eyes widened, âitâs not because Iâm married, is it? Because I put it in my profile and-â
âItâs not because youâre married,â He assured, interrupting your clear panic. He found it quite adorable actually. âItâs because I like you and I think youâre beautiful. I wouldnât be here if I thought otherwise.â
Oh.Â
Harry didnât want to overstep. He had only been chatting with you for a week before meeting in person, but he already liked you, at least from the few bits of information he learnt about you. And you were quite pretty, insanely pretty actually. Harry thought you were attractive from your profile, but seeing you in person only solidified that. It would take some serious differences between you two for him to not want to pursue things.
But this was a first date afterall and he wasnât going to put pressure on something so fresh. You were clear before even meeting him that you werenât looking for anything serious and Harry was happy with that. Whatever the outcome of this date, he at least wanted to make sure you had a good time. Even if it meant you two never saw each other again.
âOh.â You felt your heart hammering in your chest at the compliment. Even his eye contact was making you a jittery mess. Harry made you nervous. Giddy even and you had barely known the man a week. âThank you.â
Carson still complimented you, even still said he loved you, but nothing really felt the same after he wanted to open your marriage. It was like a wrecking ball to your life. Your heart broke instantly and your self esteem took the biggest hit you had ever experienced. Your own fucking husband asking to open your marriage after nearly three years of being married, six of being in a relationship. How were you supposed to take it?
He gave you those same reasons many guys give when they want to open a relationship; that you just didnât fulfill his needs sexually anymore and that he needed more to be satisfied. You tried to explain that youâd be willing to explore his fantasies if he just communicated them, especially since he had been the one leading a very vanilla (but good) sex life since you two got married, but he didnât like that idea.Â
You came to the conclusion there was someone else. Carson denied it and told you he still loved you, but you couldnât ignore the gut feeling that this was all some fucked up coverup to excuse cheating. So you said no. Safe to say that didnât work out because a divorce ultimatum and three months later and you were here, trying to reap the benefits from an open relationship you were too reluctant to explore.Â
Carson of course was happy to follow the rules you two set and be out nearly every damn night with someone, but you could never bring yourself to do it. You were still hung up on the hurt and pure embarassment you felt being forced to open a marriage you thought was happy. In the end you realised that you deserved the pleasure Carson was getting from someone else. You deserve to be desired and taken out on dates. It didnât seem fair that only one person was benefitting.
âYouâre welcome, love.â Harry smiled, âletâs just not put any pressure on it, okay? No expectations or anything. Weâll just get to know each other and see where the night takes us.â
You liked the sound of that. You liked the sound of him calling you âloveâ even more.Â
âOkay,â you nodded, âI like the idea of that.â
âGood.â Harry raised his wine glass in a toast and you couldnât help but feel a little mesmerised by the sight of his ringed fingers wrapped around the glass. Shaking yourself out of it, you raised yours as well. âTo us.â He offered.
âTo us.â
The date with Harry went far better than you ever couldâve expected. He was sweet and charming and all the things that drew you to him via text were even better in person. You two had far more in common than you realised and even the things you didnât only added so much interest to the conversation. He made you laugh harder than you had for months and was the perfect gentleman all night.Â
You two didnât sleep together, not that you went into this date wanting to sleep with him anyway because you werenât really sure what to expect, but you came out of it hoping heâd offer to walk you up to your hotel door and maybe continue walking you right to your bed. Harry didnât do that of course and instead offered you a kiss on your cheek and an invitation for dinner again next week, but that only made you want him more.
Leading up to the date was so overstimulating and so much all at once that you decided to book a room at the hotel in the same complex as your dinner (which he so kindly paid for), just so youâd have time in a clean environment to process your thoughts afterwards.Â
Carson was out with his girlfriend April tonight, as thatâs what she was to him now, so he wouldnât be home anyway. But you didnât want to be getting ready in your own room near the bed you and your husband shared, only to return to it after a date that couldâve been terrible. You wanted something just for you so no matter the outcome and no matter how you felt about it, you had somewhere free from any memories relating to your marriage.
When Harry offered the second date, you told him youâd think about it. He understood, took it like a great guy (the bare minimum, yes, but you were also expecting him to be too good to be true) then waited until you were in the closing doors of the elevator to say goodnight. It didnât take long after you were clean and in the comfort of a fresh Carson-free bed that you texted Harry to let him know how much you enjoyed the date and that you would like to join him for dinner next week.
He was nice and handsome and you had a really good time with him. The thought of seeing him again made you giddy and you wanted to hang onto that feeling.
Harry: Iâm glad it didnât take you too long to think about it. I had a wonderful night. X
You were practically giggling as you read the text, feeling like a little girl dating a cute guy she liked for the very first time. It was exhilarating. Only one date in and you already understood the appeal Carson was talking about, as much as you wanted to disagree with him.
You: Iâm glad. Goodnight Harry x
Harry: Goodnight, love. Sleep well x
//
âSo what did you get up to last night?â Carson asked, âyou have a nice night away?â
âI went on a date, actually.â Your back was facing towards him as you unpacked your overnight bag. Even though you couldnât see him, you could practically feel the surprise radiating off him.
âOh, really? With who?â Carson walked around until he was in your eyeline. He was trying not to act surprised, but you could see it even better with him in front of you that he was. His tone didnât come off judgemental though and if it did youâd have a few things you could throw back at him. He couldnât really say anything when you had remained silent on all his flings and relationships.Â
âHis nameâs Harry. I met him on tinder.â You shrugged, being honest but trying not to appear too excited about the whole thing. Carson didnât need to know you thought about Harry before you went to sleep, or that you spent a good half an hour on the phone with your friends squealing about your date with him.
âThatâs great.â Carsonâs reply seemed genuine and he held that kind smile that you fell in love with. âHow was it? Did he treat you right?â
âIt was really good, actually,â you paused your unpacking and looked at your husband, seeing the kindness in his eyes as he listened attentively to what you were saying. You wished heâd look like that all the time. âHe was the perfect gentleman and weâre going on another date next week.â
âHe mustâve really liked you then,â he teased.Â
Carson was just joking and being quite civil about the entire thing, but you still felt that churning in your stomach. It would never feel normal talking about a date with someone else, even if it was your date instead of his now.Â
âI guess so. It was only one date though.â
âDid you sleep together?â Then came the dreaded question.Â
You both agreed that you had to disclose when you slept with another person and a condom always had to be used. No details had to be shared and it was preferred that there werenât any, but for your own health and safety, you had to share it with each other. It only really mattered when you two were having sex with each other, which, with work and Carsonâs busy schedule with other people, only happened once a month if that on your scheduled weekend together.Â
Opening the marriage seemed to completely eradicate that part of your relationship and while you were unsatisfied, you couldnât really find it in yourself to try and change that. Not with Carson at least.Â
âNo. You know Iâd tell you if we did.â You didnât really want to talk about it anymore, not when this conversation was ruining your once-happy mood.
âI know,â Carson replied softly, moving forward to place his hands on your hips. âI love you, you know that. I hope you find some joy in Harry, or whoever. Whatever makes you happy, y/n. Thatâs all I want for you.â
That felt like the biggest load of shit ever but you chose not to say that.
So you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to remember when you used to do it and not feel a sense of dread. âI love you too.â
//
You went on a few dates with Harry. You tried to plan things around when Carson was busy so you wouldnât be stuck at home thinking about what he was doing and that seemed to do the trick because you hadnât thought about him once on any of the dates you had with Harry.Â
Things had progressed to a goodbye kiss then a hello kiss when you decided to be a little brave and greet him with one when he picked you up one Saturday morning. And God Harry just knew how to kiss. Even a peck was delicious. His mouth was so soft and sweet and the way he held your face or your waist while kissing you made your entire body light on fire. The more time you spent with him, the more desperate you were becoming to sleep with him.
But Harry was such a gentleman. You didnât want anything serious and he knew that and yet he hadnât made the first move. Kissing you was as far as he got and when things started to get a little heated when you two said goodbye, it would always end far too prematurely for your liking.Â
In your head, a lot of men just wanted to have sex and most of the time did anything and everything to get there before moving on once their post-nut clarity hit. Thatâs kind of what you expected from Harry. Someone so good-looking and out of your league could find sex easily so you assumed heâd be eager to sleep with you. That was part of the allure, wasnât it? To sleep with a married woman? The nasty, scandalous thrill of being with someone that belonged to someone else.
Yet Harry never treated you like that, in fact, he didnât even bring up your marriage unless you started the conversation. Harry just treated you like someone genuinely interested in getting to know you.Â
âCan I ask you something?âÂ
It was only your third date. This conversation shouldâve come up earlier, maybe even on one of the many text conversations or calls you had, but you were a little caught up in his charm and romance to think about it then and you wanted to see his reaction in person. In the very beginning you werenât even sure if youâd be seeing him again but now that you were up to date three and he just never brought up the fact that you were married⊠well you wanted to know why. He knew your marriage was open but you didnât quite understand why was he okay with it? There had to be a reason, right?Â
âOf course you can.â He leaned back against the chair and tucked his elbow on the edge of the balcony you two were sitting at. It was a picturesque little cafe overlooking a river and it truly felt like you two were on some romantic holiday. The sun was gorgeous even despite the cold breeze and Harry looked effortlessly handsome.Â
âWhy do you⊠I donât know how to put it.â You sat a bit straighter in your chair, fiddling with the rings on your fingers. Your wedding ring. You werenât sure why you still wore it on your dates with Harry, but it was a habit and you were married. âYou never bring up Carson or the fact that Iâm married and I want to know whyâŠâ
âWhy I donât care?â He asked, finishing off your sentence.Â
âYeahâŠâ You nodded, âI guess I just donât get it. Youâre a lot younger than me-â
âIâm 27 and itâs only five years.â He corrected, looking quite amused by your comment. Five years was a big gap when he was younger than you, at least you thought so.Â
âStill.â You pressed, âYouâre young and Iâm married. I just donât understand why youâre choosing to go out with me and not someone else. And the fact that youâre okay with my marriage it just⊠I donât know.â You looked away for a moment, needing to break free from his eye contact so you werenât completely swept up in it. âIâm not sure if Iâd be the same. Iâm not the same and Iâm the one whoâs married.â
âIâve been married beforeâŠâÂ
Well, you certainly didnât expect that.
âWhat?â Your eyes widened and Harry nearly laughed at how shocked you were.
âI was only 20 at the time and it was stupid to say the least but we were happy and in love and marriage seemed like the answer to all our problems.â He smiled at the memory, tracing his finger around the rim of his water glass as he thought back to that time in his life.Â
âAnd it wasnât?â
âNo.â He chuckled, sighing while running a hand through his hair. âMarriage caused more problems than it was worth. Steph and I were broke and both in school. We could barely afford our degrees let alone rent and it just caused so many arguments. Too many arguments. We still loved each other and we made it work but over time⊠the love faded.â Harry shrugged. This felt like too intense of a conversation for breakfast, but you werenât really expecting to find out about a marriage.Â
âWowâŠâ You breathed. âIâm sorry. Um, how long were you two married?â
âThree years. We were just too young and going through too many changes. In the end, we were more like roommates than husband and wife. Didnât have sex for the last six months because we were too busy working and emotionally disconnecting from each other.â He looked out to the water, turning back to finish off his point. âAnyway. What Iâm trying to say is that shit happens. Relationships arenât clear-cut. I can tell youâre not just trying to get some exciting thrill by cheating on your husband so as far as Iâm concerned itâs just you and me.â Harry bumped his foot against yours under the table, smirking ever so slightly. âIf that changes Iâm sure youâll let me know.â
Harry spoke about it in such a respectful way. You imagined it was far messier than he made it out to be, but he didnât blame Steph or attack her character to make himself the good guy in all of it. It was refreshing and mature. Was it bad that him being married before only made him more attractive?
Maybe it was because you now knew that he understood you.Â
âThatâs a very⊠refreshing outlook, Harry.â
âRefreshing?â He chuckled, âNo. Realistic.â He leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table, nudging your foot again. âAnd to answer your other question, the reason Iâm out with you and not âsomebody elseâ is because I like you. I told you that on our very first date and Iâll say it again. I like you. Simple.â
âYou act like things are so easy.â You laughed, blushing at his honesty.Â
âThey can be.â He reached for your hand, threading your fingers together before squeezing. âIt feels easy with you.â
Yeah⊠it did.Â
To make things worse⊠or better? his admission only made you more insatiable for him. Nothing he said was remotely casual, but it had also been a long time since you were dating. Aside from Carson, only one other man had touched you, so you didnât really have a good gauge on navigating new beginnings or sex with a new person. You knew how to please a man but all your skills were honed in on one man.Â
So when Harry offered to host dinner at his house for your next date, your stomach was a mixture of nerves and pure excitement. You hadnât been there before, but with his invitation to stay the night, you didnât really care what his place looked like, just that he had a nice clean bed to fuck you on.Â
You never thought youâd be in this position, but you also never thought youâd be in an open marriage with a man you imagined building a family with. You didnât see that happening now, but what you did see was you enjoying yourself and getting to explore another man for the first time in years.
Harry wouldnât have just invited you to spend the night if he wasnât interested in sleeping with you. He didnât fit into the dump-and-run stereotype you created in your head, but he sure as hell wasnât uninterested in sex. He practically oozed it from his fucking pores.Â
âY/n!â Harry beamed, opening the door with a big charming grin. He looked gorgeous and you were taken aback at just how good-looking he was. He told you to dress casually and while he matched the criteria with a pair of jeans and a loose white button-up, he looked anything but casual.Â
âHi,â you smiled, stepping inside. You barely made it into the doorway before he grabbed your overnight back from your shoulder, slung it on his and then cupped your face to bring you in for a kiss. You gasped a little into his mouth, humming when you relaxed into it and grabbed onto the sides of his mouth to reciprocate.Â
It felt so young kissing like this; languid and passionately right in the open doorway of his house where anyone who drove or walked past could see. But you didnât really care who saw when he was nudging you against the doorway and crowding you with his body. It wasnât an innocent kiss thatâs for sure.Â
His mouth moved expertly against yours, tongue sliding against the seam of your mouth until it was brushing against yours. He grabbed onto your waist, pulling you flush against him until he was consuming every part of you. It was delirious the way he sucked on your tongue and groaned at the taste of your mouth.Â
If this was setting the tone for the evening, you could barely wait.Â
âDid you miss me or something?â You joked, breathing heavily as the kiss broke.Â
He smiled, nodding while running his thumb over your mouth. He dragged his eyes over your body, taking in your nice fitting jeans and top with the most perfect amount of cleavage he could die. You were radiant. âVery much so.âÂ
God.
âCome in, love. Itâs cold out.â Harry stepped out of the way properly this time, closing the door behind you while you looked around his entranceway.Â
âShoes off?â
âIf you donât mind.â
âOf course.âÂ
Harry walked you straight through to his living area. It was a warm, inviting home with soft lighting and lots of texture. He had a musical influence throughout but in the most tasteful way ever. Posters, vinyls and a gorgeous record player front and centre in his living room. His style was envying and you wished Carson would let you do even half the things Harry had done to his house.Â
You could see yourself being very comfortable here.Â
âYour house is gorgeous, Harry.â You complimented, looking around the space in awe.Â
âThank you.â He gushed, setting your bag down on one of his armchairs before walking into the kitchen. âI originally hired an interior designer then ended up picking all her opposite choices. I think I did an okay job.â
âI think so.â You agreed, following him to the island bench. The entire house was fragrant. It was a mixture of some citrusy candle, whatever delicious dish was in the oven and his cologne. It was intoxicating. âUgh and it smells so good in here. What is that?â you practically moaned.
âAlfredo chicken pasta.â Harry mused, grabbing a bottle of red from his wine fridge. âI know you like it. Thought I should try and impress you for our first at home date.â
âSo far itâs working. Just need to wait until itâs in my mouth for the final verdict.â You replied, pressing your hip to the bench while looking at him. âCanât give you a raving review before Iâve tried it, can I?â
If Harry set the tone with the kiss, you set the tone with your words and those flirty eyes of yours. He pressed his tongue into his cheek, nearly audibly moaning at the double entendre. Harry had been holding back on how badly he wanted you since the first date.Â
There was an instant fire between you. Chemistry he had been wanting to act upon for weeks. But he knew this was the first relationship for you since your husband suggested opening your marriage and he didnât want to push things. You two spoke about it extensively after the third date when you wanted to clear the air to figure out what Harry got from this.Â
Harry got pure pleasure. To him it was simple. He enjoyed your company and you seemed genuine in what you told him about your situation, so why wouldnât he pursue things with you?
âYouâre a smart woman.â Harry smirked, pouring the red wine into both wine glasses he had set on the bench before your arrival. âActions speak louder than words, donât they?â The way he looked at you nearly had you sweating.Â
âItâs an age-old saying, after all.â You mused, thanking him once he passed you a glass. âTo us?â
âTo our first night together.â He clinked his glass against yours, eliciting a smile that had you trying to hide how nervous he truly made you feel. It had been a while since you got butterflies in the presence of a man.Â
âNow, tell me all about your day. Mustâve been pretty relaxing if you had so much time to get all pretty for me.â He teased, reaching out to pluck at the hem of your shirt.Â
âYeah right.â You snorted, jumping straight into all the problems you encountered during your work day.Â
Dinner went perfect as it usually did. You both laughed and drank and shared a delicious meal. By the time dessert came, Harry had moved from his chair opposite you to sit right beside you, deciding to play a game with the few mini dishes he made. He didnât really explain why he chose to make multiple options, only that you had to guess what each one is.Â
You werenât really going to stop him from feeding you, were you?Â
âOkay keep your eyes closed.â He prompted, walking over to the table with the long plate housing the mini desserts.Â
âOkay! Okay theyâre closed.â You shuffled in your chair, trying not to sneak a peek even if you wanted to.Â
âKeep them closed.â He warned again, his arm brushing yours as he set the plate onto the table.Â
âThey are.â You defended.Â
âHow many fingers?â Harry sat right next to you, waving two fingers in front of your face.Â
âHarry!â
âOkay.â He laughed. Harry grabbed one of the dessert spoons and took a small chunk from the first dessert before bringing it close to your face. âAny guesses?â
âSmells warm.â You guessed, breathing in the delicious cinnamon-or was it caramel? âCaramel?â
âVery good, Angel.â He praised, unintentionally making your breath hitch. That little bit of praise hit you right in the belly, making a swarm of butterflies flutter all over. âOpen your mouth.â
Shit. If only he was asking you to open your mouth for something else.Â
You did as instructed and widened your mouth, rubbing your palms up and down your thighs. He brought the spoon to your mouth, letting you suck it clean before removing it. âDo you have a guess?â
âMmh.â You hummed softly, savoring the taste of the dessert you had on your first date. âSticky date pudding?â
âAtta girl!â He cheered. âWell done.â
If he praised you one more time⊠god you almost felt pathetic at how turned on you were getting. And over food.Â
âCan I open my eyes now?â You whispered, wanting to look at him.Â
âNope. Next one.â He took a spoon from the next dessert and repeated the same movements, holding it in front of your nose so you could smell it first. âWhat can you smell?â
âCustard maybe? Vanilla?âÂ
âYeah⊠on the right track.â He mused, âopen up.â Then once again he fed you the spoon.Â
âOh thatâs so good.â You practically moaned, feeling his thumb brush against your mouth to wipe away a bit of custard. He sucked his thumb clean of it, watching you enjoy the dessert. Your moans of appreciation were hitting him harder than he thought they would but he just couldnât help himself. You were moaning over something he made. He could only imagine what youâd sound like moaning over his cock or his mouth. âIs it⊠like a custard croissant cake or pudding? Whatever you call it.â
âYou know your desserts. Iâm impressed.â
âWe had it on our second date, Harry.â And thatâs when it clicked. âAre these desserts weâve had on our dates?âÂ
âMaybe. Depends if you can guess the last one. Now open up pretty girl.â At his last instruction you opened your mouth and your eyes at the same time, looking right at him. âHeyy. Thatâs cheating.â He complained, feeding it to you.Â
There was something erotic about the way you sucked that spoon clean, even going as far as plucking it from Harryâs fingers so you could get all the chocolate from it. âI knew it was chocolate pudding before you even fed it to me.â You whispered, looking down at the nicely plated dish. âDid you really make dishes weâve had on our dates?â
âMaybe.â He repeated, scanning his eyes along your side profile. âToo much?â
No. Fuck, you were about ready to jump his bones.Â
âNo.â You shook your head and set the spoon down. âThis is⊠this is really thoughtful. Thank you.â
It was romantic. Everything about this date was romantic.Â
âYouâre welcome.â Harry murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth. A playful smile emerged on his mouth and you could just tell something was up.Â
âWhat?â You chuckled.Â
âYouâve got something here.â He reached out to cup your face, swiping your mouth clean like he did before. âSee? Mustâve liked the chocolate pudding.âÂ
Before he had a chance to lick it clean himself, you grabbed his hand and brought his thumb to your mouth. His lips parted and his eyes darkened as he watched you wrap your lips around it, sucking on it gently.Â
âItâs goodâŠâ you whispered, eyes fluttering when he cupped your jaw. The heat rising in the room was almost unbearable. Every second felt like an hour, every flick of his eyes between your own and your mouth like a century. The touch of his pinky grazing your neck had you shivering and all you wanted-no, craved was his mouth on yours. You bit your lip, releasing it with a pop before breathing out a soft laugh. âSo are you going to kiss me or-â
You couldnât say another word because Harry had already slid his hand back to thread through your hair and pulled you right in for a kiss. You whimpered as your lips met in a soft kiss. It started gently, but as the seconds went by and your hands ended up in his hair, it was getting hot and heavy.Â
âHarryâŠâ you sighed, breaking when you needed to breathe.Â
âGod I love kissing you.â He murmured, tipping your head back so he could kiss along your jaw towards your neck.Â
âIâŠâ you swallowed thickly while rubbing your hands down his neck towards his shirt buttons. You were desperate to see more of his skin. To feel more of it. âI want you.â
Harry paused, breathing heavily while pulling back to look at you. His lips were already swollen; all pink and yummy looking and his eyes had this dark look in them. It was a look you were sure you had given him countless times. When your heavy kisses got cut short or when you were forced to say goodnight when you really wanted to invite him in. You were sure you were giving it to him now.Â
âI want you. Really fucking bad.â He admitted, reaching to push your hair back from your face. âI just donât want to rush you, baby. I didnât invite you over expecting anything and-shit.â Harryâs eyes widened as you bit the bullet and ripped your shirt off before putting it down on your lap.Â
You were everything he imagined youâd be. No. You were better. Gorgeous in every way and in one of the prettiest bras he had ever seen. You couldâve worn anything though and he still wouldâve thought that. But Jesus. Â
âYouâre not rushing me.â You whispered, âbut I am wearing matching underwear so you can rush that if you want toâŠâ
Harry swooped in again, holding your face in both hands to kiss you. âI want to.â He practically moaned, âbut Iâm not rushing anything with you. Iâve wanted to do this for a long time.â
âGood.â You smiled softly, sliding your palms over his chest before undoing the top button. âGood.â You barely whispered the word before kissing him again.Â
Harry pulled you closer by your hips, nudging your shirt to the ground so your legs thread into each other. He ran his hands over your torso, your waist and your arms while you worked on unbuttoning his shirt. His skin was warm and soft and you were addicted to the feeling of his chest hairs against your hands.Â
He undid your pants, draping the zipper down before making the executive decision to stand up and force you up as well with his hands on your hips. Your pants and top fell to the floor with ease and he was quick to push the dessert plate and cutlery out of the way so he could pick you up and set you on the edge of the table.Â
He was obsessed with how your body felt in his hands and under his lips and he wanted to explore every inch of you. He let his mouth trail along your collarbones and neck, down to the clevage spilling from your bra. You were so soft and sweet, so plush in his hands. Harry never wanted this to end and it had barely started. He hadnât even tasted you yetâŠ
âYouâre so goddamn beautiful, y/n.â Harry breathed, taking a moment to just look at you. He reached in to kiss you gently while massaging your thighs, sliding his fingers so close to the edge of your underwear without brushing them at all. âCan I touch you?âÂ
âYes.â You nodded eagerly, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. That was when you caught sight of the twinking diamond on your ring finger. The reminder that despite all verbal permission given by your husband as per your arrangement, you were still going to sleep with another man while married. âCan I ask a favour, though. Before we⊠do anything?â
âOf course.â He urged, eyes softening. âAnything. What is it?â
His gaze was so soft⊠so endearing. Harry showed more care for what you were saying than your husband did in the months he was off dating other people. Probably for months before that too.Â
You breathed out heavily, heart thumping in your ears as you pulled your ring finger off and played with it in your hands. âWill you put this in your pocket? I donât want it on for this. I just want it to be you and me.â
âIâll keep it safe.â Harry promised, holding his palm flat for you to put the ring on. âEven if you wore it, it would still be you and me, y/n.â He assured, sliding the ring into the tiny pocket at the front of his jeans.Â
âIt wouldnât.â You whispered, smiling softly while reaching forward to kiss him again. âIt is now, though.â
Harry moaned into the kiss, pulling you closer to him so he had better access to you. Then he went back to just touching you. Caressing you. He palmed at your breasts and your thighs and your bellyïżœïżœïżœ everywhere he could.Â
Carson knew how to make you cum, but Harry didnât and that was almost better. He didnât skip through to the end, to what he knew would work. No, Harry took his sweet time running his hands and his mouth over your body, trying to figure out what you liked best. He wanted to memorise the little jerks or squeezes of your thighs the prettiest soft whimpers if he touched you just so.Â
Harry loved the first time he slept with someone knew. It was a new experience and an entirely new set of likes and dislikes for him to explore. And after you dressed up so nice for him and wore what wouldâve had to be the sexiest lingerie he had ever seen, Harry couldnât have been more excited. He had been waiting for this since the moment he met you face to face.Â
âWhat do you like?â Harry breathed, smoothing his hands over your stomach up towards your breasts. They slipped under the cups of your bra to push it above your nipples so he could pinch them in both hands. âTell me. Please.â He was almost desperate, needing to know how he could please you.
âI like what youâre doing now. I likeâŠâ You swallowed, whimpering ever so slightly when he pinched your right nipple a little harder, âI like when you look at meâŠâ
âWhat else?â Harry murmured, keeping his eyes laced with yours as he dipped down to tug at your nipple with his teeth instead. He soothed the ache with his tongue; all hot and slick. All you could think about was his tongue being somewhere else. Getting head was a rare commodity in your house. Carson was quite decent at it, actually, but it was one of those things where it took forever for you to cum. You both worked demanding jobs so when you got time or needed release, it was usually something quick to get the job done.Â
But god, youâd kill to be eaten out.Â
âFuckâŠâ you gasped, running a hand through his soft hair. While you were nervous about sleeping with a new man, there was one thing marriage life did prepare you for; saying what you wanted. You had no problems telling Harry exactly what you liked. âI like dirty talk too. I like to be praisedâŠâ you had to pause when he sucked on your nipple again, releasing it with a pop that had you shivering when the air hit the wetness left behind by his tongue. âDegraded tooâŠâ
âYeah?â Harry cocked his head, smirking like you just unlocked something evil in him. âAnything you donât like to be called?â
âStupid. I donât like being called a bitch, either.âÂ
âWouldnât dream of it, pretty girl,â Harry assured, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your pretty underwear and sliding them side to side against your skin. Harry wouldâve loved to get you completely bare for him, but there was something so sexy about fucking you while you were wearing the lingerie. You wore it for a reason, it would be a shame to let it lay on the floor for the entire night, especially when you looked so fucking good at it. âTell me more. I want to know what I can do to you.â
âItâs too easy if I give you all the answers, Harry. Iâll tell you if I donât like something.â You teased, sitting up from the table so you could run your palms all over his chest and up to around his neck.
He was just glorious. All tanned and muscular with littered hairs that made him look so much more manly. You could only imagine what his pecs would look like all sweaty while he fucked you. You hoped heâd hover over your head so you could lick at his chest and tug at that sinful cross necklace between your teeth.Â
âCan I tell you what I want to do?â He proposed, hooking one finger on the underside of your underwear this time, moving it towards your mound but not down enough to feel how wet you had grown for him. He was so close to dipping his fingers into your crease. So close to being able to please you.Â
âPleaseâŠâ You breathed, eager and so damn desperate for anything.
âI want to fuck you while youâre wearing this,â he snapped at the fabric, maintaining direct eye contact with you. Oh, Jesus. Between his eye contact and his sultry tone, you were going dizzy at how direct he was being. You loved it. âThen I want to strip you naked and watch you bounce on my cock. Forwards⊠backwards.â He groaned at the thought and grabbed onto your ass, firmly pulling you closer to the edge of the dining table until his lips brushed with yours. You could feel the hard length of his cock press against your pussy, promising you that it would be deep inside you by the end of the night.
âI want to make your ass red so when you go home to your husband, heâll know I fucked you better than he ever could.âÂ
It was another promise, that Harry would indeed fuck you better than Carson ever could.Â
âBut firstâŠâ Harry bucked his hips against yours, keeping his grip on your hips tight so you couldnât wiggle away at his directed grinds over your clit. He kissed you gingerly, watching your eyes haze over as you whimpered softly. Between his cock and his words, your head was spinning. âI need to taste you. Iâve thought about nothing else but having my face between your thighs for weeks now.â
Harry grabbed your hands from behind his neck and pressed them down to the table on either side of your hips, bumping his nose with yours. âDo you like the idea of any of that, darling?â
You nodded eagerly, loving the sound of all of it. âUhuh. All of itâŠâ you inhaled a sharp breath, loving the feeling of his hands moving to knead at your inner thighs, âThere is one thing though. Something I want.â
âTell me.â He murmured, eyes wide and eager. He just couldnât keep his hands off you. He was grabbing your thighs and your hips, craving the warmth of your body.Â
âI want your cock in my mouth. Iâve been thinking about that since our first date.â
Harry smirked and you could feel the way his cock jerked right against you. It was big. You wanted to choke on it.Â
âThat can be arranged.âÂ
He reached in to kiss you again, groaning like a starved man while wrapping his palm around the back of your neck to guide you back down against the table. When you were flat he stood back up and stripped his shirt off fully, leaving him completely shirtless.Â
Then he did something unexpected. With a shit-eating grin on his face he pulled up the chair he kicked away earlier and sat on it, shuffling close to the table like he was getting ready to eat a three-course meal. You were going to make fun of him for it, but you didnât really get a chance when he slung your legs over his shoulder and nuzzled his nose right into the crotch of your underwear.Â
âJesus.â He moaned, eyes fluttering closed. Your jaw went completely slack at what you were witnessing. Never had a man looked so fucking hungry to eat you out. He was practically delirious and all he had done was inhale how sweet you were. Harry was looking forward to having your scent all over him. âYou smell so fucking good, y/n.â He looked up at you again, hooking the very tip of his finger into the crotch of your underwear and sliding it up and down along your crease. âBut do you taste as good as you smell?â
You nearly whined like some pathetic puppy, but you had to keep that inside as you didnât want to appear too eager. Too easy. Truthfully, you were easy though. Harry was able to turn you on easier and quicker than you ever thought. And all over a little dirty talk and a slight obsession with eating you out.Â
âWhy donât you find out?â You hiked yourself up on your elbows, bringing your feet off his shoulders and onto the edge of the table so you were spread wider for him.Â
âOh I will,â he pulled your underwear to the side, breath hitching at the first sight of your bare pussy. âYouâre so gorgeous, y/n. Iâve been looking forward to this for a long⊠long time.â
When his mouth finally grazed your clit, you fell back against the table. You couldnât hold yourself up even if you wanted to, not when he started eating you out like a damn starved animal. Harry moaned like you were the best thing he ever tasted and touched everywhere. He wasnât clit happy or labia happy and he certainly didnât miss-interpret one part of your anatomy for another.
âFuck Harry⊠oh God.â You whined, pulling at his hair with both hands before suddenly letting go because you hadnât asked if you could. You didnât even know if he liked it. âDo you-â You could barely breathe let alone talk. âCan I pull your hair? Is it okay?â
âGod, yes. As hard as you want,â Harry moaned like the idea of his hair being pulled was orgasmic. âDonât stop, y/n. I promise.â He grabbed your hand and guided it back to his hair, giving you a reassuring nod before going back to your clit.Â
Harry knew exactly what he was doing. How to tease, how to take advantage of your entire body to make you feel good. He kissed and nipped over your thighs and used his hands to squeeze your breasts and play with your nipples. It was all so wet and sloppy and you felt like your entire body was on fire.Â
âGod you taste⊠shit-â Harry broke for air, spitting directly over your pussy then spreading it around with two fingers, âyou taste so fucking good, y/n.â He used one of those wet fingers and slid it inside you, pumping it a few times while slurping against your clit again. âNever thought a pussy could be so sweet⊠âm addicted.âÂ
He slid his second finger in easily, fucking you with both digits so good your arousal was echoing around the room. His high ceilings did wonders of making sound travel. Even with all the rugs and soft furnishing, the softest moan sounded so much louder. And you were anything but soft. Your noises were loud and unforgiving and every single one of them was going straight to his cock.
It also meant you heard every groan Harry made. Every single sound of pleasure he was feeling just eating you out. It was possibly one of the sexiest things you had ever experienced. A man with his head buried between your thighs moaning and being so fucking enthusiastic because he gained genuine pleasure out of it. He liked it. Harry ate you out like it was his favourite thing on planet earth.Â
âYou okay? You good?â He checked in on you, looking up at your gaped mouth and thrown-back head. You only moaned in response so Harry reached for your hand and threaded your fingers, squeezing them to get your attention. âHey. Look at me.â He nudged, not happy with your lack of response.
You forced yourself to look down at him, nearly shaking at how intense his eye contact was. His (now) three fingers were still steadily fucking into you, but he had taken a much-needed break from using his mouth to check on you. âGood?â
âYes. So so good. So good.â You nodded eagerly, trying to guide his face back to you with the hand still in his hair. âJust-please. I need it.â
âYou need it?â He grinned, cocking his head ever so slightly. âIs it that good, baby? Do I suck your pretty clit so good that you need it?â
âYes... Oh yes...â
âI need it too.â He admitted, dipping back in to swirl his tongue around his fingers, right where your poor needy hole was dripping with arousal. âYou just taste so fucking good, y/n. Iâd have you on my face every night if I could.â
You seemed to like that idea because he could feel you clench around his fingers, knees bumping into each other so his face was wedged between your thighs. Your underwear were a complete mess too; all soaked and creamy. Harry wanted to wring them with his teeth and suck them dry, but with the real thing pressed right against his nose, he didnât have to.Â
âBet youâd like that, wouldnât you? Letting me eat your cunt every night? Every morning, even? Would you let me wake you up with my head between your thighs? Let me eat you for a midnight snack. Because I would.â Harry moaned as he wedged his mouth over your clit again, kissing and licking at it, spitting at it so it was even wetter. You were practically a sobbing mess above him too and that only encouraged him to say whatever he wanted.
âY/n, Iâd worship you and this pretty pussy.âÂ
He slid his fingers out just long enough to smack them against your clit. It was gentle at first and he quickly soothed the sharp sting with his tongue. But he felt the way you jerked around his head, how your hips lifted off the table to get more.Â
âIs it okay?â He breathed, looking up for an answer. This time, you were already looking right at him. You had been from the moment he left your aching cunt empty and needy because you wanted to see what heâd do. And what a sight. You were sure youâd never forget the image of him smacking your clit then making out with it like a starved man. It was ridiculous.Â
Harry Stylesâ mouth would kill you one day. You knew it would.Â
âMore than okay.â You nodded, bringing your intertwined fingers up to your breast so his large hand would squeeze against your nipple. âDo it again.â
He followed your request quickly and spanked over your pussy again, this time a little harder and with more surface area of his fingers. You gasped out a moan, back lurching off the table as they hit your swollen clit. He quickly soothed the burn with his tongue, this time blowing on your sensitive skin for a moment before languidly tracing swirls over your clit.
âAgain. Harder.â You gurgled out, clenching your fist into his hair when he smacked your clit again. Harder. He slid those three fingers right back into you again, curling and fucking them roughly right against your g-spot. âOh God⊠Harry!â
âOh, youâre such a good little slut letting me spank you like this. Right over your little clit too, hm? Who knew such a pretty girl would like such dirty things.â
The dirty talk⊠you were going to pass out.
âYouâre taking it so well, y/nâ He cooed, pulling his fingers out to spank you again before they returned deep into your pussy. It was dizzying. The way he spanked you then fucked you then spanked you again like some quick endless loop. He was careful not to hit you too many times, but whatever he was doing was making you reach your orgasm faster than any other oral you had received.Â
ââM gonna cum, Harry. Please justâŠâ You pulled his face back to your clit, urging him closer with your hand.
Harry didnât argue and did what you seemed to like the most; those three fingers stroking right against your g-spot, one hand on your breast and his mouth sucking right over your clit. It seemed to do the trick too because not even ten seconds later, you were practically lurching off the table while crying out his name through a squirting orgasm. Your hand cemented him to your pussy so he could happily collect as much of your release right in his mouth.Â
When you started to calm down, Harry softened his movements and pulled his fingers out of you. He licked them clean then pressed soft kisses all over your thighs and mound, even right on either side of your clit.
âYouâre such a good girl, darling. Did so well for me.â Harry praised, squeezing your hand and keeping his eyes on your face as you panted and looked up at the ceiling.Â
âGod that wasâŠâ You swallowed thickly, pushing your sweaty hair from your forehead so you could look down at him.Â
âWhat?â He nudged, smirking while kissing your inner thigh. âGood? Is that the word youâre looking for?â
âYour egoâs too big for your own good.â You laughed softly, sitting up so you could guide his mouth to yours. Harry was still smiling into the kiss until he relaxed into it. Thatâs when it turned heated again. The taste of your pussy and his mouth; your mouth too⊠it was all too much. âBut yeahâŠâ you sighed, âit was good.â
He stood up from his chair so you werenât hunched down to kiss him and the moment you had access to his jeans, you started working on undoing them. Harry hissed into the kiss when you applied pressure to his hard bulge and he had to break free just to breathe at how sensitive he was. His cock felt harder than ever before. He didnât think he had ever been this turned on and sore in his entire life.
This chemistry with you⊠it was otherworldly. Supernatural almost. A compelling pull like his cells were trying to fuse with yours.Â
And you were married. He had to push that thought out of his head because only a few weeks into this and he was already considering asking you to leave your husband.Â
âI need you, baby.â He panted, grabbing your hips tightly as you pushed his jeans and boxers down his thighs to free his cock. âShit-â
You wrapped your hand around his cock while he helped you get them off the rest of the way. You couldnât help but look down between you, needing to see how pretty he was. And pretty he was. Long and decently thick, so heavy in your hand. You knew heâd fill you up so good heâd have you seeing stars. Two fingers were usually enough to prep you for sex, sometimes even one depending on how turned on you were.
You were glad he chose three.
âYour cock is so pretty, Harry.â You complimented, squeezing your palm around him. Your eyes filtered between your working hand and his face, obsessed with how hooded his eyes became just from your hand. âSo big too⊠I need you inside me. âM so empty.â
Harry didnât quite realise when you said you liked dirty talk that you liked it both ways, but he rather enjoyed the filth spilling from your mouth. He found it cute that you could barely string words together when he was pleasuring you, but like this? It was the biggest fucking turn-on.
âBend me over the tableâŠâ You begged softly, nipping at his jaw until you reached the shell of his ear. His cock was oozing precum down over your hand. He liked what you were saying. âPlease. Make me squirt againâŠâ
âCome here.â
Harry pulled you off the table and with a rough hand, spun you around to bend you over the table. You squealed as he spanked your ass without thought, spreading your cheeks wide to spit down over you. He planned to fulfil his promise of fucking you with this lingerie on and now that he was looking at your pretty holes bent over with the tiny string of lace tucked to the side⊠he couldnât have been more excited.
âYouâre just so hot, y/n.â Harry groaned, spanking your other cheek just to watch your ass jiggle. âSo goddamn hot.â
âIâm hotter with a cock in me.âÂ
Your mouth earned you another spank, this time directly over your sensitive cunt. You squealed and jumped in place, but Harry easily soothed the ache with a friendly grind of his cock against your clit. Your knees buckled at the direct stimulation but Harry made sure you kept still by pressing his hand to your lower back.
âI need to get a condom,â he murmured to himself, suddenly remembering the dreaded protection right when his cock was so close to being inside you.Â
âHurry.â You gasped, forehead pressed to the table.Â
âI will. I will.â
Harry fished the condom from his jeans pocket, placed there earlier in the evening in hopes of sleeping with you tonight. It was a just-in-case for something spur of the moment, though he didnât start the night plotting a way to get you in his bed. He was glad now that he put that condom in there just in case, especially when you were waiting for him.Â
Once the condom was on, he was right back in position. A hand on the small of your back and the other guiding the head of his cock to your entrance. Harry didnât wait or tease, he just pressed right into you slowly and deliberately.Â
âShit-â
âOh godddâŠâ
Your curses echoed at the same time, both as desperate as each other. Harry just stretched you so perfectly, on the cusp of too much and the best type of full possible. It helped that you were so damn wet, so turned on that he was easily able to push inside you.Â
âGod, baby. You're so tight.â Harry hissed, reaching forward to press a kiss to the middle of your back. You couldnât even respond to his compliment when your body was still getting accustomed to a new man. A new cock. All you could do was moan and claw at the table, clenching around him. âHey. You okay?â Harry checked, sweeping your hair back so he could see your face.
âUhuh. Just⊠shit.â You whimpered, squeezing around him again. He cursed at how tight you were and collected your hair in a loose hold around his fist.Â
âYâsure?â He mused, pressing a kiss right in between your shoulder blades. âYouâre trembling beneath me, darling.â
âFuck me.â You begged. He was so deep in your belly and it was torturous having him so far inside you and not moving at all. âPlease Harry just-â
He didnât need to be convinced any further. Not with how sweet you sounded and how wet you were around him. You were a fucking dream and that only became more apparent as Harry started thrusting into you. He started with a slow but steady grind, fucking you with hard pressure like he was trying to memorise every inch of your pussy.Â
âGod baby. You feel so good.â Harry moaned, building up the speed with a good grip on your hips. He hooked his thumb into the small lace string of your underwear, pulling it to the side so he could watch his cock disappear into your wet cunt. And you were so wet. Your arousal coating his length and turning creamy the longer he fucked you. It was obscene.Â
Mostly though, he was watching your face. Your cheek pressed to the table, mouth gaped open and eyes screwed shut as you moaned the-fuck the prettiest noises he had ever heard. He had barely shown you his best tricks and you were a mess beneath him. Had your husband really been lacking this entire time? Been leaving you so unsatisfied that a bit of doggy had you unravelling?Â
He couldnât bear the thought of you having to take care of yourself because your husband couldnât do it for you. But maybe that was a good thing. Because then Harry would be there for you. Heâd give you pleasure you had never experienced in your life. Over and over again.Â
Starting with tonight.Â
âFeel good baby?â Harry cooed, spanking your ass with a rough touch.Â
âYeahâÂ
âYeah?â He repeated, spanking you again on the opposite side. Your whine echoed around the room, as did the sound of the dining table squeaking forward against Harryâs nice floorboards. âSay it, baby. Tell me how Iâm doing, hm?â
âSo good. God, you fuck me so good.â You moaned, âplease- go⊠go harder. Harder.â
Harry picked up the pace, reaching to wrap your hair around his fist so he could pull your head back. âMoan for me, y/n. Moan my name.â He demanded right in your ear, spanking you twice on the same cheek.Â
âHarry.â You cried out, feeling him smile in satisfaction at how pretty you took the pain. So he spanked you again and again as you moaned loudly into the air.Â
âThatâs it⊠Good girl. Youâre taking it so wellâŠâ Harry gritted out, spanking your ass roughly while tightening his hand in your hair. You whined at the sting of your scalp, nearly sobbing at how fast and hard he was fucking into you. âSâlike you were made for me, y/n. Just made for my fucking cock.â
He was fucking you so hard, so fucking good that the table kept etching forward and forward. Harry had to keep readjusting his footing and his grip on your hair. He combed his fingers through your hair and wrapped it around his fist, tugging hard when the table slipped forward again.Â
But he was persistent and he wasnât going to let anything stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved.Â
âYâsounds so damn pretty moaning my name, baby. Fucking love how sweet you sound.âÂ
His words elicited a moan; a filthy pretty moan only exaggerated when he tugged your hair harder. âYouâre so big. So good.â You cried, âloveyourcock.â
You were addicted to the way he fucked you, even just the way he felt stretching you out but keeping completely still. It felt like you could almost reach an orgasm just like this with no clit stimulation at all which never happened. Nowadays it was your vibrator or nothing and now here you were one orgasm down and another so damn close.Â
Still, you needed your clit touched and you couldnât really reach it this way.Â
The table etched forward once more and right as he pulled back to thrust into you again, the table slid forward making him slip out completely. He effortlessly slid himself back into you to continue, but when it happened a second then a third time you couldnât help but giggle. Even through the deep pleasure and hazy mind, it was funny.Â
âFuck.â He cursed when his cock bumped against your ass cheek instead of where he actually wanted to be. He tapped it against your clit before grinding there, watching you squirm and let out a choked gasp through your light laugh.Â
âI think we may need to switch rooms.â You giggled, looking over your shoulder at him while panting as you desperately tried to catch your breath. He had let go of your hair for a moment, planning on trying to continue until you suggested moving things elsewhere.
Truth be told, Harry jerked one out before you came. He didnât plan the evening around having sex with you and wouldâve been okay if nothing happened at all, but his cock couldnât control itself around you. Just your presence and your scent could get him hard in no time so he tried to fuck the frustration out before you even got there.
He was glad he did so too because now that he was in the middle of feeling your sweet sweet cunt, he had a lot more stamina going onto his second orgasm. He could have you riding him through two more orgasms before needing to cum himself and fuck did he want to experience you squirting right on his dick.Â
âI think so.â He breathed through a laugh and ran his hand through his hair, âcâmere.â
âMh.â You agreed, standing up on shaky legs and sore hips. Harry grabbed you straight away and helped you turn around to face him. He cupped your face with one hand to guide your mouth to his, deepening it effortlessly while tucking his hands under your thighs so you could jump up and wrap your legs around him.Â
You were slightly shaky in his arms, sensitive as he placed you gently on the floor in front of his bed. He broke the kiss to look at you for a moment, panting heavily while brushing his nose against yours. There was something about the look in his eyes that had you crumbling inside. They were soft and almost loving; so full of yearning and desire that you were almost scared to look back. It was overwhelming.
Harry danced his fingers down your neck and shoulder to your arm where the strap of your bra had fallen. Every touch was making you shiver and only causing that ache between your thighs to grow. You felt empty. Cold without his cock inside you.Â
âTake this off. I want to see you.â Harry murmured, searching your eyes while waiting for you to nod before he kissed you once more and climbed onto his bed. He shuffled backwards until he was against his headboard, legs wide and cock hard and waiting for you to climb back onto him.Â
He never stopped looking at you. Never stopped watching even as he wrapped his own hand around his cock and gave himself a few tugs to the sight of your body becoming bare for him. The prettiest of prettiest lingerie on planet Earth couldnât compare to the sight of a womans naked body. Your bare, naked body. The soft peaks of your breasts and the way they fell naturally without a bra. The dip of your hips and tummy without the confides of lace. It was glorious.Â
Harry could barely contain himself.
âYouâre a vision.â Harry awed, jaw clenching like he was trying to control himself from dragging you onto the bed and pinning you down.Â
âSo are you.â You whispered while crawling towards him on the bed. You let your hands glide up his thighs once you were situated between them, taking the time to look over every inch of his naked body. You were in awe to put it simply and so goddamn attracted to him you were worried sex would never be the same afterwards.Â
Because it wasnât just the pleasure. It was the chemistry. The eye contact. The fact you two had a laugh about him thrusting against your ass cheek instead of inside of you because his table couldnât handle the pressure. The way you could have that laugh just minutes ago and be back to this. The firey eye contact and his trembling thighs underneath your palms.Â
âCan I have a tasteâŠâ You breathed, licking your lips at the sight of his cock up against his stomach. From this angle he looked even bigger than before and knowing he was just inside you⊠fuck. You could barely breathe. âPlease?â
Harry groaned and wrapped his hand loosely around your neck, only applying light pressure right beneath your jaw. âJust a little, y/n. For now the only place I want to come is with you coming around me.âÂ
If only he was bare inside youâŠ
âOkay⊠just a taste, H.â You nodded, pressing harder against his palm. You wrapped your palm around his cock, loving the sight of his jaw clenching at the touch. âCan I take this off?â You asked, rubbing over his head at the condom.Â
âYeah, baby. Take it off.â
Harry was going to lose his fucking mind.Â
You were quick to pull off the condom then wasted no time in dipping down and licking a fat stripe from balls to tip on the underside of him. Harry groaned and collected your hair in his hand so he could see your face. Your eyes fluttered closed at the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.Â
He was warm and heavy and you could taste yourself right at the base of his cock where your arousal dripped down. You made sure to clean it all up with your tongue, lapping at it while looking at Harry to watch his reaction. He could barely contain himself and with every lick his hand flexed in your hair like he was trying to control himself.Â
âYou can guide me. I like it when I choke.â You murmured, spitting directly onto his tip before sliding it into your mouth to spread it with your tongue.Â
âGod, youâre going to be the end of me.â He groaned, hand tightening in your hair with purpose. Harry reached for your spare hand, intertwining your fingers while pulling your mouth off him for a moment. You were like jelly in his hands, compliant as he instructed you to squeeze his hand once if you were okay and twice if he was too rough or you needed a break. More than happy with that arrangement, you agreed and squeezed his hand in preparation for him to guide your mouth down.Â
He started to gently maneuver your mouth up and down his length, starting shallow at first before going deeper until he felt the tightness of your throat around him. You choked ever so slightly but squeezed his hand once and enjoyed the feeling of his cock twitch down your throat.Â
âLook at meâŠâ Harry breathed, forcing your eyes on his. âThatâs it⊠fuck.âÂ
The sight had him gasping and moving your mouth over his cock faster. Your pretty little eyes all glistened with tears⊠God the sight was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. And the way you just took his cock without complaint and even moaned when you gagged around him⊠it was like you were made for him.
The feeling of his cock filling your throat was like nothing else. There was just something about choking on a manâs dick that got you all squirmy inside. You had always been a relationship girl and a bit of a âlate bloomerâ according to those who thought losing your virginity in your early 20s was the biggest sin of the century, but that didnât mean you were inexperienced.Â
Your first serious relationship exposed you to things you had always wanted to try. A world of kinks and things you werenât sure youâd like until you tried them, others you were certain youâd hate until you found out you didnât. You always considered yourself lucky to have a guy introduce you to sex and provide an environment where you could not only lose your virginity, but experiment without any shame or constraints.
Funny how you ended up married to your next serious relationship after him to a guy who had no interest in anything remotely more exciting than a spank and a sporadic hair pull. You loved Carson enough to be happy with vanilla but fulfilling sex. It wasnât like it didnât have any passion, because it did, it just didnât have this.
What Harry managed to provide you on your first night together (a night far from over as well) Carson couldnât give you in six years of being together. You werenât sure you could go back to your old sex life. Not now.Â
âYou look so hot like this.â You gasped, pulling off to breathe while jacking him off with your spare hand. Your other was still intertwined with one his and you had no plans of changing that. âI love having your cock in my mouth, HarryâŠâ you moaned, reaching in to lick his length once more. âFeels so good.â
âJesus.â Harry groaned, tensing his hand in your hair. âYouâre doing so well, y/n. Such a good little cock sucker, arenât you?âÂ
You moaned filthily at his degrade, letting him slide you back down over his cock. Your whole body was on fire. Even with only a little hand holding and hair tugging, you were beyond turned on and empty between your legs. The sight of him was just so beyond sexy, almost too sexy for you to handle.Â
His chest was heaving and glistening with sweat. With every pant or moan his abs would contract and his thighs would tremble on either side of your shoulders. You wanted to see him cum so bad. You wanted to watch his jaw contract and his mouth part as he moaned your name.Â
âYouâre gonna make me cum, y/n.â He warned in this almost whine of a tone. âNeed to cum inside you.âÂ
âI want it in my mouth. Wanna taste you.â You practically pleaded, tapping his tip against your tongue.Â
âYouâre incredibleâŠâ Harry groaned, using his hand on your hair to pull you up towards his mouth. He kissed you hungrily, angling your head in the direction he wanted so he could deepen it. âButâŠâ he panted, breaking just to say that one word before kissing you once more, âI need toâŠâ he nibbled on your lip and grabbed onto the back of your thighs, "⊠feel you around me when I come.âÂ
You whimpered as he dragged you in a straddle and pressed your wet cunt directly over his cock in a slow deliberate grind. Fucking hell. You just wanted to slip him in, to feel him bare inside you until you were full of his cum.Â
But you couldnât. And the fact you were half considering letting it happen on your very first sexual experience out of your marriage was insane. It scared you.Â
âCondom.â You uttered against his mouth, tugging on his hair ever so slightly.Â
âYeah. Yeah.â He breathed, barely able to concentrate when you dragged your mouth along his jaw and neck. Harry reached for his bedside table and grabbed another condom from the top drawer, returning quickly to kiss you again while blindly unwrapping it.Â
But it was like Harry was stuttering. Fumbling to do something as simple as putting a condom on his own cock. He couldnât help it really. Not when your mouth was so sweet and erotic, nibbling at his bottom lip until all he could think about was how to hold his breath indefinitely so he could kiss you forever.Â
And you were growing impatient. The few seconds delay in his movements had you so desperate you leaned back to breathe, took the condom from his hand and rolled it down on his cock in one swift motion.Â
âFuck me, baby.â This time it was Harryâs time to plead. He wound his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, panting into your open mouth as you guided him to your entrance and dropped down on him once more.Â
His cock felt so much bigger from this angle and he felt deeper too even though he was just fucking you so hard his dining room table couldnât handle the force. Maybe thatâs why you couldnât control the loud whine flooding into his mouth when your clit hit his pubic bone. Or maybe it was because this position was far more intimate than being bent over.Â
âYouâre so big⊠feels bigger like this.â You gasped, lulling your head back while grabbing his shoulders for balance so you could start bouncing on him and getting a good rhythm going.Â
âI knowâŠâ he cooed, squeezing your hips before spanking you quickly. âShow me how much you need it, huh?â Leaning in, Harry ran his mouth along your exposed neck, panting between little bites and licks on your skin, âshow me how good mâcock makes you feel.âÂ
"Love your cock," You whined, already feeling the ache in your thighs as you picked up the speed.
Harry wrapped one arm around you and hugged you tighter while pressing the fingers of his spare hand directly to your clit. And with every bounce, every grind, his fingers stimulated right where you needed it the most. You were already so full with him and now he was giving you the cherry on top so you could finish.
"More... more, please. Need it harder."
"Need it harder?" Harry taunted, hiking his legs up on his feet in a wide position on the bed so he had enough stability to thrust up into you. "Like that?" He chuckled at your cry, squeezing your body in his arm so you stayed exactly where he wanted you.
"Yeah... yeah. Fuck!" you practically sobbed, unable to do anything but grab his hair or shoulders and just take how hard he was fucking into you. His legs were strong and while you were a sobbing, breathless mess above him, Harry wasn't losing momentum at all.
He was sweaty and panting but he never stopped thrusting up into you. At least that's what it felt like. While you gave up and begged for more, Harry was more than happy to take over and give you a fucking you'd never forget.
He thrived being in control. You could tell.
"That's it, y/n. You're taking it so fucking well, y'know that. Just sitting there and taking it like the good little slut you are. My fucking slut..." Harry cooed, dipping down to tug at your nipple. "Got me so fucking close, pretty girl. Just need you to come f'me."
Between his words and lips on your breast... his fingers pressed to your clit and the way his cock was bruising your insides, you couldn't hold on any longer.
âGod, Harry. âM gonna cumâ You cried, trying to warn him of the deep churning in your belly and the trembling in your toes.
"Look at me." He demanded, sliding his hand up into your hair to force your head in his direction. Your eyes fluttered open but despite your vision already hazy, you could clearly see the way his eyes were hooded, pupils wide and hungry. "That's it. Look at me while you cum, baby. Let me see how pretty you look."
Harry pressed his forehead to yours, opened mouths panting and brushed against one another. He watched closely when your mouth gaped wide and your eyes struggled to keep open as your orgasm hit. The way your brows furrowed and your entire body trembled on top of him and he could feel his lap and lower belly become soaked in your release.
It was glorious.
"Good girl." He praised, "Fuck. Fuck!" His words turned to mush when he reached his own orgasm and somehow even pulled you tighter against him so he could feel every inch of your soft skin.
Coming down was all open-mouthed kisses and laboured breaths and this distinct feeling that everything had changed. You two could never go back to casual and you most certainly couldn't look at yourself or your husband the same way ever again.
"I feel bad you only came once." You practically pouted, grabbing another spoonful of pudding to feed it to Harry. "It doesn't really seem fair."
What did seem fair, though, was finishing off the dessert neither of you ate after your intense workout. You were quite enjoying feeding a naked Harry delicious sugary puddings and it just felt morally wrong to leave the dessert sitting there when it was the perfect bridge between round one and two.
"Trust me. I'm more than satisfied." Harry chuckled once swallowing the delicious dessert. He dragged his fingers over your hip, loving how his t-shirt fit your frame. It was so casual and sexy. His clothes had never looked better.
"Well, I hope you're not tired because I'm not and I think I'd like to test your 27-year-old stamina." you shrugged casually, eating the last bite of the sticky date pudding.
"Oh really?" Harry raised his brow and gently took the spoon from your fingers to set them down on the plate. "Two orgasms wasn't enough for you?" He teased, moving the plate out of the way so he could cup your face and gently guide you down onto the bed.
"Mh mh." You shook your head with a smile and clasped your hands around the back of his neck while he adjusted your body to hover over you. "I think at least four..." you curled your leg around his hip and dug your heel right into the pudginess of his bum, "and I wouldn't mind a bit more effort put into making my ass red. You did promise that, didn't you?"
"More effort, huh?" He smirked and grabbed onto the underside of your jaw with a firm grip to pin you to the bed. "You've got no idea what you just started, little girl."
ââââââ ⥠âââââââ ââââââ ⥠âââââââ
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texas sweet
summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?
tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)
a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.
(4.9k, not beta read.)
Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the âblessingâ your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying.Â
Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didnât end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasnât like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.
What you werenât picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. Youâre not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isnât your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.
No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.
Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joelâs yard. Itâs like he doesnât know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you âyoung lady,â which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? âNoâ wasn't in his vocabulary.
Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldnât be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasnât around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joelâs truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didnât know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that sheâs in high school. Sheâs always happy to chat, but sheâs also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes.Â
Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when heâs had too many drinks,) but he looks like⊠a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joelâs house, heâs blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones.Â
So why is it that when Fatherâs day rolls around, Joelâs driveway is empty?
You arenât watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does.Â
âNot creepy,â you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day heâs looking right back at you.Â
Looking outside, you see nothing. Joelâs grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesnât matter that nobody came. He probably really doesnât care at all, a lot of men arenât very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.
Heâs a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to.Â
Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so heâll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. Heâs too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with âHappy Fatherâs dayâ scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job.Â
âŠWhich is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think heâd like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, itâd probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.
Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for fatherâs-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.
Maybe you shouldnât be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but itâs too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together.Â
â
And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, itâs so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joelâs front door. You canât figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.
Your repeating thoughts of âIs this weird? Am I weird?â are interrupted when he opens the door.
Joel looks⊠normal. He doesnât look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and heâs wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joelâs eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit thatâs rightâ
âHappy fatherâs day,â your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. Itâs awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.
âTheseâre for me, darlinâ?â He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.
A stammering of âumâ and âyeahâ leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. Youâre pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. âYou uhâ You donât think of me as your dad, do you?â Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadnât thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that heâd think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didnât. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point.Â
âNo, no. Oh my godâ Sorry,â You choke out, half laughing. Itâs a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.
âItâs just that youâre a dad and likeâ not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobodyâs been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,â your voice trails off as you fear youâve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.
âAnd what if I told you that I wanted everyone tâleave me alone today?â He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didnât realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter âsorryâ repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.
âIâm jokinâ, sweetheart. I appreciate this,â he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldnât be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile⊠he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like heâs impressed.
Well thatâs⊠something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. âYou were really this worried?â He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didnât seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you donât know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.
âSâawful sweet,â he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe itâs his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that canât be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. Thatâs where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like thereâs a halo over your head, all his attention right there.Â
Heâs so hot you donât even want him to look at you.
But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldnât find Joel attractive. Heâs handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction⊠It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you arenât registering the words. Wait shit, heâs speakingâ
âDarlinâ?â Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile⊠Why is it so hard to hear him?
âI asked if you wanted to come in,â he repeats.Â
â
Youâve never been inside Joelâs house, but youâd never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. Itâs hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.
And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.
Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute?Â
A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. Heâs paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel.Â
âYou must be so proud of them,â you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. Sheâs smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joelâs thumb is in the bottom corner. Itâs strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable.Â
He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why werenât they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.
âSarah called me âround lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. Sheâs so damn busy, yâknow that? Always studying and,â he catches his breath, realizing heâs blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.
âPoint is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,â He finishes quietly.
Your eyebrow raises. He didnât mention Ellie. Joel huffs.
âIâm 99% sure sheâs over at Dinaâs making me a gift, but itâs fine that she forgot. Iâve been on her ass about homework, fairâs fair.â
He looks cute when heâs begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what youâre saying as soon as youâre laughing.Â
This is easier than you thought it would be. Joelâs always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if itâs just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs heâs been managing and how annoying his clients are, itâs something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation youâve had before.
You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesnât seem as receptive to this, but thereâs an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. Heâs a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt youâll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesnât extend to himself, and it seems youâve hit a wall with him. Or maybe youâve hit too close to home. âSorry,â you say, feeling a little weird.Â
This whole day has felt like youâre pulling against a lead Joel wasnât even holding in the first place, like youâre always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isnât holding the rope around your neck. Heâs surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone.Â
He shakes his head, telling you that itâs fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.
âIâm sorry darlin,â Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.
â-- I didnât even offer you water when you came in. Dâyou need somethinâ to drink?â He asks.
God, doesnât he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars.Â
âOh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,â you reply.
Youâre only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice.Â
You down the glass like youâre parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesnât say anything.
âBad back?â You ask after you catch your breath.Â
He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. âAll that lifting in my early yearsâŠâ as if heâs a thousand years old. Joel mentions that heâs been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarahâs begging and pleading.
âI donât know, I think itâs gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelinâ you up acts like heâs Christ himself,â Joel says, rolling his eyes.Â
The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.
Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.
âI couldâ I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.â
Joelâs eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you donât feel like youâve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.
Itâs probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble thatâs given you dilf earworms.
He looks like heâs about to say no when you speak again.
âYou donât even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,â you offer.Â
Joel still looks like heâs going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You canât let him, not when youâve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.
âItâs your day, Joel,â you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his fatherâs day, but who cares.
Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.
â
You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasnât said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think youâre doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.
Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joelâs first noise.
Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.
Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.
âAre you okayââ you ask as his voice flounders again, a âDarlin--â leaving him out of his own volition.
Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joelâs been through enough today.
âPlease donât stop,â Joelâs voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.
Heâs sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. Itâs the first time heâs asked you for anything tonight, you canât refuse him.Â
Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way heâs grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself.Â
âFuck,â he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasnât felt eased in years.Â
This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.
Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joelâs belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing.Â
Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? âJoel?â You ask quietly.Â
He shakes his head, voice tight.
âIâm sorry, I donât know whatâs wrong with me. Justâ it just feels nice,â he admits.
Your hands pause. Okay, so heâs admitted heâs hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldnât really get worse.
âI could⊠I could help it feel better,â you offer meekly.
Youâre not scared of a dick. You arenât. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.
Joel rubs a hand over his face.
âYou donât have to, you can just go,â he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.
Part of you wonders how long itâs been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you itâs been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.
Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you canât see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. Heâs so shy when heâs being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this.Â
His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joelâs bare ass slides against you and he cringes. âIs it okay if you donât look?â He asks.Â
You hate that he seems so insecure, but youâre not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. Heâs heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.
Telling him that heâs big feels redundant, youâre sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what youâre doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock.Â
âAre you okay?â You ask again.
Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him.Â
Admittedly, itâs a dry hand job, but Joel doesnât seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that youâre still there.
Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.
âShitâ shit, please,â he gasps, âplease can I spit in your hand?âÂ
Itâs a little surprising, but again, you canât refuse him. You say âyeahâ into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. Itâs filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.
Itâs the first time youâve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isnât normal for you either.Â
Instead, you ask him if itâs good. A rasped âyes,â emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, youâre a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.
Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know youâre there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers.Â
âFuckâ fuck Iâm sorry, oh my god,â he pants, shivering.Â
Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that heâs okay.Â
âItâll wash off,â you joke, feeling the stick of him on you.Â
â
Joel does help you wash it off, once heâs done redressing. Heâs clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. Heâs definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.
You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.
âUsually Iâd offer to return the favor but⊠I have to pick up Ellie from her friendâs house now. Iâm really sorry, darlinâ,â he admits.
Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?
Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but itâs not enough.Â
âI really do apologize,â Joel says again, âbut this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If youâd like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.âÂ
And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.
Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.
âIâd like that, but you donât owe me anything. Itâs Fatherâs day,â you point out.Â
Joel rolls his eyes. This Fatherâs day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but itâs still cute to him since youâre the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.
âFine,â Joel says, âbut when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.
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EL COQUETO | FC43
an: welcome back as we write about my n.1 pookie, i've got some more works planned for him BUT i've just gotten to france so imma be very busy rip, based off of this request
summary: when franco catches feelings for a journalist who is persuaded he doesn't really want her.
wc: 7.6k
The paddock was alive with energy, buzzing with the hum of engines and the chatter of the press as they swarmed around the new driver. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, a slight swagger in his step and a dazzling smile that had already made him the focus of every camera. He was the story of the weekend: Franco Colapinto, the unexpected mid-season replacement, here to shake up the grid with his flashy driving styleâand, evidently, his unapologetic charm.
He caught sight of her, raised an eyebrow in recognition, and made a beeline toward her with the confidence of someone who knew heâd be welcome, even if he hadnât been invited.
âHola,â he greeted, his voice carrying a thick, rolling Spanish accent that seemed to coat every word in warmth. âYou must be my next question of the day. They warned me about the best journalist hereâof course, I was told to behave.â
She gave him a practised smile, cool but polite. âFranco, welcome to the team. How are you feeling about joining mid-season?â
His eyes sparkled, unfazed by the businesslike tone. âHow am I feeling?â He leaned in just slightly, as though sharing a secret. âWell, right now, very lucky. They said Iâd get tough questions, but they didnât say the interviewer would be⊠distracting.â
She fought the urge to look away, just barely managing to keep her composure. âSo you feel ready for the pressure, then?â she asked, refocusing, though the tiniest hint of a blush warmed her cheeks.
âFor the track? Yes, I am prepared to race anyone.â He paused, letting his gaze linger on her a beat too long. âFor the interviews? That remains to be seen. Perhaps you can teach me how to handle that part, sĂ?â
She could sense her colleagues nearby, some watching with open amusement as they caught his flirtatious energy. Franco was as smooth as they came, that much was certain. But she wouldnât be the one to crack first.
âIâm sure youâll learn quickly,â she said, tilting her head, her voice steady, though her heart raced. âNow, back to the race. What are your goals for this weekend?â
His grin broadened, but he played along. âGoals for the weekend,â he echoed thoughtfully, shifting back into the question. âWin a few hearts, break a few recordsâno particular order.â He winked, and she felt a laugh bubble up before she stifled it, opting instead for a brisk nod.
âRight. Well, I hope youâre ready for the competition,â she managed.
He shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. âWith you here, quĂ© competencia?â
She gave him a pointed look, resisting the smile tugging at her lips. âYou know, charm doesnât score you points on the track.â
âAh, no?â He tilted his head, feigning surprise. âThen I suppose Iâll have to win the hard way.â
Just then, a flash of cameras went off around them, the media eating up every angle of Francoâs arrival. He seemed entirely unfazed, even performing slightly for the flashes. The crowd around them surged with questions about his plans, about what his first practice would look like, about his last season in Formula 2. But Francoâs attention was still locked on her, and he hadnât missed a beat.
âSo,â he said, with that soft smile of his, âdo you think Iâll be able to charm Formula One, or will they be immune to my Argentian ways?â
She gave him a dry smile. âYou might have your work cut out for you. Itâs not a stroll through Argentina, after all.â
He laughed at that, clearly enjoying her wit. âYouâre tough,â he said, a touch of admiration sneaking into his voice. âI can see why youâre the best.â
She raised an eyebrow. âFlattery wonât distract me from the questions, Franco.â
âNo? Not even if I try very, very hard?â he asked, drawing out the words with a grin. It was ridiculous, reallyâthe way he leaned into every word, the way he seemed to shine in the spotlight. But there was something endearing about it too, something that felt⊠unexpectedly genuine.
âNot even then,â she replied, her tone light but steady. âLetâs talk strategy. Whatâs your focus for your first race?â
He sighed, shifting slightly but keeping that glint in his eye. âFine, Iâll behave,â he said with a sigh, straightening up to answer. âMy focus is simple: get the car under me, push it to its limits, and aim for a strong finish. Maybe even a few surprise overtakes. Iâve been itching to get back on the track.â
It was the most serious answer heâd given yet, and she noted the shift in his voiceâa hint of intensity breaking through the smooth, easy charm.
âAnd your teammate?â she pressed, sensing sheâd found the thread to pull him out of his flirtatious veneer. âAre you prepared for the rivalry?â
Francoâs expression turned thoughtful for a moment, a flicker of something sharper in his eyes. âMy teammateâŠâ He paused, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. âHeâs Williamâs best. Iâll learn from him, give him the respect he deserves. But I didnât come here to play second.â
She watched as someone next to her scribbled down his answer, though her mind wandered slightly, wondering at the complexity beneath his charm.
âGood to hear,â she said, offering a small nod. âWeâll all be watching to see if you live up to that confidence.â
âI live up to my promises,â he replied smoothly. Then he leaned in one last time, lowering his voice just for her. âOne of them being to get at least one smile from you by the end of the weekend. Iâll start with that goal.â
Before she could reply, he gave a casual wave to the crowd, moving on to the next journalist as though he hadnât just made her heart skip a beat with his easy, disarming confidence. She watched him go, flustered despite herself.
One thing was certain: Franco Colapinto was going to be a story.
When the time came, the race had barely begun, but her eyes were already glued to the screen, following the sleek white-and-blue car with Francoâs number emblazoned on the front. Despite her best efforts to stay neutral, to approach this like any other weekend, there was something magnetic about watching him. Franco Colapinto, the audacious rookie, whoâd barely spent a week with the team and had taken to the grid without a single day of training in an F1 car.
From the start, it was clear he was playing it differently. He didnât charge forward recklessly like other rookies might have, eager to prove themselves. Instead, Franco took a few cautious laps, feeling out the car, testing its responses. She noticed how his style evolved lap by lap, each one more aggressive, his moves sharper. He was adapting, learning the car right there in the thick of the race.
As the race progressed, he began to gain ground. Corner after corner, he squeezed every ounce of performance from his machine, edging closer to the pack with each lap. By mid-race, he was overtaking the backmarkers, slipping past seasoned drivers who had years on him, and the commentators were buzzing.
She caught herself smiling, feeling a strange, almost foolish pride as she watched. The memory of his easy, arrogant grin flashed in her mind, his voice low and teasing: âDo you think Iâll charm Formula One?â Sheâd laughed it off, but he had something special, didnât he? That hunger for the track, the sheer nerve to go head-to-head with anyone in his way.
Then, as if her thoughts had summoned trouble, the camera cut to his carâa close-up on his visor as he fought for P12. Her heart caught as he made a daring move, threading his car through a razor-thin gap into the next turn. It was reckless, and yet somehowâsomehowâhe made it stick.
âP12!â The radio crackled through his team radio, their voice as surprised as she felt. For a rookie with zero F1 experience, it was practically a victory.
She exhaled, releasing a breath she hadnât realised sheâd been holding. The chequered flag fell, and Francoâs car slowed down, his voice breaking through the team radio with a triumphant laugh, half-sighing, half-cheering in disbelief at his own result.
When she saw him back in the paddock, she managed to slip past the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce, positioning herself where heâd inevitably cross her path. She didnât want to admit how much she wanted to hear his version of the race firsthand, to see if the adrenaline still sparkled in his eyes the way it had behind the visor.
When he finally caught sight of her, his face lit up. âAh, my toughest questioner returns,â he said, the grin wide as he raked a hand through his hair, still tousled from the helmet. âSo? Impressed?â
She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression composed. âNot bad for a first race,â she said, voice calm but betraying the slightest hint of a smile. âThough I have to say, you took some pretty risky moves out there.â
Franco laughed, that low, familiar chuckle that could disarm anyone. âYou sound like my engineer. But I had to make it interesting, didnât I?â His gaze softened slightly, the playfulness ebbing for a moment. âI did better than you expected, maybe?â
âMaybe,â she admitted, leaning in just a bit. âI wouldnât let it go to your head, though.â
He feigned a wince. âAh, so Iâll have to work harder to impress you, then.â
With that, she couldnât hold back the smile any longer. âPerhaps,â she said, voice softer. âBut youâve made a start.â
She followed the rest of the press corps into the media pen, her notebook in hand, watching as Franco slipped into his role with practised ease. The other drivers, still catching their breath, answered questions in measured tones, clearly exhausted. But Franco was⊠well, Franco. He leaned back against the barrier, relaxed, a half-smile playing on his lips as he answered questions, some about his lack of training, others about his shockingly high finish.
She hung back at first, observing him as he effortlessly charmed each journalist in turn, flashing that disarming grin and making even the toughest questions seem like casual conversation. But when his eyes caught hers across the small crowd, he subtly waved her forward, his grin widening.
âAh, finally,â he said, his tone playful as she approached. âI was starting to think you were hiding from me.â The other journalists shot her curious glances, some smirking at Francoâs obvious interest.
She managed to keep her expression neutral, clearing her throat and lifting her voice to a professional tone. âFranco, congratulations on P12. Quite a debut.â
âGracias, cariño,â he replied, eyes sparkling. âFor a moment, I thought you didnât think I could do it.â
âWell, you didnât exactly take the most traditional route,â she shot back, raising an eyebrow. âYou had us all on the edge of our seats with those overtakes.â
He leaned in a little, lowering his voice to just above a murmur, his gaze fixed on hers. âI thought about what you said. âCharm doesnât score points.â So I had to give you something else to smile about.â
She could feel her cheeks warm under his steady gaze, and she fought to keep her expression cool. âDonât flatter yourself, Franco. Iâm just here to report the facts.â
âHmm,â he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, though a playful smirk tugged at his lips. âWell, the fact is, I went from P20 to P12 on my first day. But somehow, I think I still havenât impressed the person who matters most.â
âThe person whoâ?â She trailed off, exasperated. âFranco, you were the story today.â
âWas I?â he asked, the innocent tone entirely ruined by the mischief in his eyes. âBecause if Iâm the story, youâre the reason itâs a good one.â
Before she could protest, he glanced over her shoulder at the next journalist, nodding politely. Then, in a flash, he was back to her, clearly undeterred. âWhen can we continue our interview?â
She forced herself to keep her composure. âI think youâve given me more than enough material for one day.â
âA pity.â He shook his head, though his grin was unmistakable. âThen maybe next time, youâll be a little more impressed.â
She watched him walk away, shoulders loose and steps casual as he moved from one group of reporters to the next, answering their questions with the same easy confidence heâd shown with her. She could still feel the heat of his gaze, the lingering effect of his words making her pulse quicken.
âWow.â The journalist next to her, a seasoned reporter with a wry smile, gave her a knowing look. âYou okay there? He has that effect, doesnât he?â
She blinked, quickly snapping out of her daze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. âIâyeah, I donât know whatâs going on,â she muttered, shaking her head, trying to compose herself. But she could still hear his words ringing in her ears, his playful teasing, the warmth in his gaze. âThe person who matters most.â
âOh, I think I do.â The other journalist smirked, nodding in Francoâs direction as he laughed and clapped a fellow driver on the shoulder. âIt seems Franco over here has a slight crush.â
She scoffed, though it came out more flustered than sheâd intended. âFranco has a crush on every woman he talks to. Itâs his⊠thing since he got here.â
The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. âMaybe so, but Iâve watched him all day and that was different.â
Her colleagueâs words only made her cheeks grow warmer. Was it that obvious? She was used to managing tough interviews, unflappable under pressure, and here she was, thrown off by a driver who hadnât even been in Formula 1 for a full week. But somehow, Francoâs charm wasnât just some casual game to him; it felt more⊠intense. And heâd directed every bit of that intensity straight at her.
The journalist chuckled. âDonât overthink it. Enjoy the attentionâitâs not every day a rookie looks at you like youâre the finish line.â
She glanced away, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. She didnât want to admit it, not to her colleague, and definitely not to herself, but there was something in the way heâd looked at her, like she was more than just another journalist, more than just one of the many people crowding his spotlight.
âWell, letâs hope he stays focused on the real finish line,â she replied, aiming for a casual tone that didnât quite land. But she couldnât deny itâFranco Colapinto was becoming more than just the story of the weekend. He was starting to feel like her story, too.
Later that evening, she sat in her hotel room, trying to unwind from the chaos of race day. The lights of the city glimmered outside her window, but her mind was still caught on Francoâhis effortless charm, that maddening smirk, the way heâd singled her out, even with half the media pen watching. It was absurd, really. Sheâd covered far bigger stories, spoken with veteran champions, and yet one rookie had managed to leave her feeling more flustered than sheâd care to admit.
With a sigh, she scrolled through her phone, halfheartedly catching up on messages, until a notification popped up that made her heart skip.
Francolpainto has sent you a message.
She hesitated, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in her stomach as she opened it. The message was simple, casualâlike he hadnât already spent the whole day keeping her off balance.
Franco: Hola! Are you at the hotel?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a quick reply.
Her: Yes, I am.
The response came almost immediately.
Franco: Perfect! Iâm downstairs in the lounge. Come have dinner with me?
She stared at the screen, her mind racing. It was temptingâsheâd be lying to herself if she said it wasnât. But she knew his type all too well, didnât she? The charming new driver who flirted with every journalist, every fan, anyone who would listen. She could already imagine him saying the exact same things to another reporter tomorrow.
No, she couldnât let herself get pulled in. Not by someone who was probably just looking for a bit of attention.
Her: Thanks, but I think Iâll pass. Long day.
She set the phone down, hoping that would be the end of it, but a new message came through almost instantly.
Franco: Too bad. I was hoping Iâd finally get a smile out of you without a hundred cameras around.
She rolled her eyes, though she couldnât deny the small flutter his words sent through her. He was persistent, that was for sure.
Her: Youâre very determined, Franco. But I have to askâdo you make this invitation to all the journalists?
A pause, just a few seconds longer than his usual quick responses. Then, his reply appeared, simple and direct.
Franco: No, just the one who keeps me on my toes.
Her: Pity, this one isnât intrested.
She set her phone down after typing that, ignoring the little thrill that shot through her when he messaged her again almost immediately. Francoâs charm was undeniably effective, but she wasnât about to let herself become just another name on his roster of admirers. Heâd have to do a lot more than offer a casual dinner invite if he wanted her attention.
Franco: Really? Youâre going to turn me down just like that?
She smirked at the screen. Of course he wasnât used to hearing âno.â
Her: Really. Iâve seen you in action today, Franco. Iâm sure youâll find someone else to keep you company.
A longer pause this time, as if her words had taken him off-guard. When he replied, his tone was more thoughtful.
Franco: Thatâs not what I meant. Today was⊠different. I donât want to go to dinner with just anyone. I want to go with you.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay firm. She typed a quick reply, keeping it casual.
Her: Nice try. But Iâve seen the way you charm everyone you talk to. Youâre going to have to try a lot harder if you want me to believe that.
A few minutes passed, and she wondered if maybe heâd let it go. But just as she was about to put her phone down, another message appeared.
Franco: Okay. Fair enough. How about this: tomorrow, after practice, let me show you what a real date looks like. No crowds, no cameras. Just you and me.
She hesitated, feeling the pull of curiosity mingled with doubt. She knew he could be as persistent as he was charming, and there was something intriguing about his willingness to push past her refusal.
Her: Why should I believe this isnât just a game to you?
His response came quickly this time, almost earnest.
Franco: Because no one else makes me want to try this hard. Iâm not playing around here, cariño. Tell me what I need to do, and Iâll do it.
She smiled, a little thrill rushing through her. For the first time, he seemed genuinely off-balance, unsure, and she couldnât help but enjoy it.
Her: Weâll see if you mean that. Good luck tomorrow, Franco.
Franco: Gracias. And just so you know⊠Iâm not giving up that easily.
The following week, she found herself in the bustling paddock of the Baku, her eyes catching sight of Francoâs car parked in the paddock. She had to admit, heâd stayed true to his word since their last exchange, staying out of her messagesâthough his lingering glances and smiles across the paddock hadnât exactly disappeared. If anything, he seemed more determined, more focused. It was all part of his act, she reminded herself. And yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it.
She was busy gathering notes when she felt a familiar presence beside her. Franco had sidled up, hands tucked into the pockets of his team jacket, his easygoing grin making her pulse quicken in spite of herself.
âBack to cheer me on, sĂ?â he asked, eyes bright with that familiar mischief.
She held back a smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction. âIâm here to cover the race, Franco. Your cheering section is back there.â She nodded to the growing crowd of fans waving his name on signs with Argentinan flags just a few metres away.
He laughed, the sound warm and rich. âTheyâre great, sure, but I was looking for one particular fan. The one who told me Iâd have to work harder if I wanted to impress her.â
She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of earshot of the nearest camera. âOh, you remember that, do you?â
âEvery word,â he said, his gaze steady. âI thought about it all week.â
A small thrill ran through her, though she kept her voice steady and her tone cool. âWell, if youâre serious, youâll have to do better than last weekâs P12. Otherwise, it just looks like more talk.â
His expression shifted, his easy grin giving way to a flash of determination. âIf itâs a higher position you want,â he said, leaning in just slightly, âthen Iâll get it. Just keep watching.â
She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. âIâll be watching, Colapinto. Donât disappoint me.â
He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes flickering with something that felt genuine, earnest. âI donât plan to,â he murmured, stepping back with a wink before heading toward his car.
As he disappeared into the garage, her heart raced. Franco Colapinto, the rookie charmer, was setting out to prove himself to her. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was looking forward to seeing if he could keep his promise.
She sat in the media centre, eyes locked on the screen as the race unfolded. Francoâs car was easy to spot, weaving its way through the pack with a precision she hadnât expected. He was starting further up this time, P18, but it was still a long shot to even think heâd break into the top ten. Yet as the laps ticked by, he held his ground, pushing, clawing his way forward with a tenacity that had everyone watching in awe.
âImpressive for a rookie,â she overheard another journalist mutter, and she felt a strange pang of pride.
Halfway through the race, Franco made a daring overtake, squeezing past two midfield drivers into P10. She sat forward, barely breathing. He wasnât just hanging onâhe was gaining, going after every single opportunity on the track with a fierceness she hadnât seen before.
Heâd promised her heâd finish higher than last week, and sheâd thought it was just talk, maybe a little playful charm. But here he was, proving her wrong lap by lap.
By the time he made it to P9, she was leaning forward in her seat, clutching her notebook tightly. And then, with a bold move on the final few laps, he passed another driver, slipping into P8. Her heart raced as she watched him hold his ground, fending off the competition, determined to keep the position heâd fought so hard for. The chequered flag dropped, and Franco crossed the line in P8.
She exhaled, a rush of surprise and admiration flooding through her. Sheâd known he was talented, of courseâhe wouldnât have made it this far otherwise. But this? Climbing ten positions in a single race, all for a chance to prove himself to her? It was more than sheâd expected.
As the race ended, she moved through the paddock, her mind whirling. Franco Colapinto, the charming rookie who flirted with everyone, had just delivered one of the most impressive drives of the day. For her. And she wasnât sure if she was more impressed with his skill or his determination to keep his word.
She barely had a chance to catch her breath before she was back in the paddock, microphone in hand, ready to take on the post-race interviews. As she waited for Franco, she replayed his climb through the ranks in her mindâhis nerve, his timing, the way heâd handled himself on the track. It wasnât just impressive; it was astonishing. And as much as she tried to shake it off, she couldnât ignore the small thrill that ran through her at the thought that heâd done it, in part, for her.
Finally, Franco appeared, still in his race suit his face glistening with the sheen of hard work. There was a slight glimmer of triumph in his eyes as he spotted her, a grin spreading across his face. He walked over, ignoring the other cameras and reporters, his gaze focused squarely on her.
She raised her microphone, keeping her expression as neutral as she could. âFranco Colapinto, P8âyour second race in Formula 1, and already a massive improvement from last week. Can you walk us through it?â
He took a quick breath, then leaned in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. âWell, you know, someone told me I had to get higher than P12 if I wanted to impress them,â he said, his tone light but his gaze steady on hers. âSo I did it for them. Great motivation.â
Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to stay focused. She could feel the eyes of the other journalists and team members on them, her colleagues probably smirking at his obvious attempt to fluster her, but she managed to hold her ground.
âImpressive,â she said, keeping her voice level. âAnd this âmotivationââI assume itâs the same one whoâs kept you on your toes all week?â
Francoâs grin grew wider, unabashed. âAbsolutely. Turns out, when someone challenges me, I take it seriously.â He shifted his stance, his gaze softening just a fraction. âAnd if they ask, Iâll do it again.â
A few people around them chuckled, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. This wasnât the usual post-race banter, and he didnât seem interested in giving anyone the typical driver answers. He was speaking to her as if they were alone, and for a brief moment, she almost forgot the cameras.
âWell, whatever youâre doing,â she replied, finally letting a small smile slip, âit seems to be working. P8 is no small feat.â
He tilted his head, as if studying her. âThen maybe next week, youâll set the bar even higher for me?â His voice was low, just enough for her to hear.
She felt her resolve waver slightly, but managed to maintain her professionalism. âWeâll see, Colapinto. For now, letâs just focus on how you plan to keep this up.â
He chuckled, shifting his grip on his helmet. âOh, I think I have all the motivation I need right here.â With one last grin and a wink, he turned to greet the other journalists, leaving her to process what was easily the most disarming post-race interview sheâd ever conducted.
Later that night, she was back in her hotel room, unwinding with a cup of tea, trying to shake off the lingering thrill of Francoâs performanceâand his audacity in the post-race interview. She still couldnât believe how heâd shamelessly directed half of his answers at her, leaving her just as off-balance as he had on the track. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her thoughts kept circling back to his determination, his promise that heâd push harder just because sheâd challenged him.
Her phone buzzed with a message, and she glanced down to see it was from the Williamâs Instagram Account.
Team Rep: Hey, whatâs your room number?
She frowned for a moment, surprised by the casualness of the message. But teams occasionally followed up with journalists for clarifications or comments, especially after high-profile performances like Francoâs. Assuming they needed to drop off some post-race press notes or team statements, she quickly typed back her room number.
Her: Room 914.
Team Rep: Perfect. Thanks.
Not even a minute later, she heard a quiet knock on her door. She glanced at the time, wondering if the team rep had come by himself. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. Instead, resting on the floor in front of her was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowersâvibrant, unruly, and charmingly imperfect, wrapped with a small card slipped between the stems.
Her pulse quickened. She didnât have to check the note to know exactly who had left them.
Still, curiosity got the best of her, and she crouched down, carefully lifting the bouquet to pull the card free.
âTo my motivation: thank you for the push. Letâs raise the stakes again soon. â F.
A soft, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She felt the warmth creeping up her cheeks, aware that Franco Colapinto had managed to surprise her again. It was a move so bold, so unexpectedâand, somehow, more genuine than any casual dinner invitation could have been.
She sighed, shaking her head but unable to fight the smile any longer. As she placed the flowers on the table, their vibrant petals catching the soft light, she couldnât help but wonder what Franco would pull next to prove himself. Because one thing was certain: he wasnât giving up. And maybe, just maybe, she didnât want him to.
She couldnât resist. Picking up her phone, she sent a quick message, keeping it light, casual.
Her: Cute.
It didnât take long for his response to pop up.
Franco: Oh? You find me cute?
She rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat as she typed back.
Her: No, the flowers were a cute move.
A beat passed, and then came his reply, playful but edged with a hint of something more.
Franco: Well, then⊠would you let the guy behind the cute move take you out for dinner?
She hesitated, fingers hovering over her phone. She knew what this looked likeâa line blurred between work and something personal, maybe too personal. And for him, a rookie whoâd just broken into the sport, one misstep could easily become a distraction he couldnât afford. It wasnât just her reputation, but his too, and the stakes felt higher than either of them probably realised.
Her: I donât know, Franco. Thereâs too much on the line.
A pause, longer than his usual quick responses, and for a moment she thought maybe heâd let it go. Then his reply came through, brief and simple.
Franco: Okay.
She stared at the word, an unexpected pang of disappointment catching her off guard. Franco, usually so persistent, so bold, had accepted her hesitation without a fight. But as much as she wanted to push away her own reservations, she knew she was right. Still, the thought of him backing off now left her feeling⊠unbalanced.
Setting the phone down, she let out a sigh, glancing over at the flowers resting on her table. A small part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, sheâd made the wrong choice.
Four weeks later, they were back at the track, Austin, the usual energy humming through the paddock as teams and drivers prepared for the weekend ahead. She found herself scanning the garages, a little spark of nerves in her chest that had nothing to do with work. Franco had kept his distance over the past few weeksâwell, as much distance as someone like him could manage. He was still his playful, charismatic self with the press, charming everyone in sight, but there was something different. He hadnât followed up on his dinner invitation, hadnât tried to push beyond her boundaries. She told herself it was for the best. Still, a small part of her couldnât shake the feeling that sheâd been too cautious.
Just then, she spotted him near the teamâs garage, leaning against the wall in his race suit around his hips, deep in conversation with one of his engineers. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up, a grin breaking across his face as if no time had passed. She felt a little of that old thrill in her chest as he walked over.
âHola, stranger,â he greeted, hands tucked into his pockets of his team jacket, his voice as warm and casual as ever. âMiss me?â
She rolled her eyes, but she couldnât help the smile tugging at her lips. âYou were just here four weeks ago, Colapinto. Donât flatter yourself.â
He chuckled, giving her that familiar, playful look. âFour weeks is a long time, donât you think?â
She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension from the past month melt away. Whatever her own doubts, Franco hadnât let her brush-off change himâhe was still here, as charming and persistent as ever. And somehow, that lifted a weight off her shoulders.
âHave you been behaving?â she asked, arching an eyebrow. âOr should I be prepared for more unexpected flower deliveries?â
Francoâs grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with that spark she was growing dangerously used to. âDepends. You miss them?â
She laughed softly, looking down to avoid letting him see her smile. âIâd hardly admit that if I did.â
He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. âGood thing Iâm a patient man, then. Because Iâm not done yet.â There was a softness to his tone, a hint of something genuine beneath his usual confidence, and it made her heart skip a beat.
Despite herself, she found comfort in his persistence, in his way of toeing the line between serious and playful without putting any pressure on her. For all his charm, he hadnât crossed any lines. He was waiting, leaving the door open if she ever wanted to step through.
As he turned to head back toward his car, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a wink. âYou know where to find me if you change your mind, cariño. Iâll be around.â
And with that, he disappeared into the garage, leaving her standing there with a soft smile, feeling just a little lighter, a little braver.
She found herself glued to the screen as the race unfolded, Francoâs car darting through the pack with all the finesse and raw determination sheâd come to recognise in him. Starting from P17, he had a long climb ahead of him, and as the laps ticked down, he kept gaining ground, his timing sharp, his decisions bold. He was relentless, working his way through the grid with an intensity that kept her at the edge of her seat.
By the halfway mark, he was already up to P12, and she could feel the anticipation building among the journalists and crew around her. Franco wasnât just driving; he was fighting for every single position, taking advantage of each moment with an almost calculated risk. And he was doing it with the confidence that had both frustrated and charmed her from the start.
Then, in the final laps, with a daring overtake on the inside line, he claimed P10. A top ten finish. It was almost too perfectâhis words from the last race echoing in her mind as he crossed the line: âIf they ask, Iâll do it again.â
The paddock was buzzing with excitement as she made her way toward the media pen, preparing herself for the post-race interview. She tried to tamp down the flutter of nerves, reminding herself that heâd been charming his way through interviews with her for weeks now. But there was something different this time, a spark of pride mingled with her excitement, and she couldnât wait to see him walk in.
When he finally appeared, the smile on his face was brighter than sheâd ever seen. Still in his race suit, a towel on his head, he strode over to her with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. She raised her microphone, struggling to keep her voice steady.
âFranco Colapinto,â she began, her own smile betraying just a hint of the thrill she felt. âP10 from P17âcongratulations. Tell us, how did you manage such an impressive climb?â
He grinned, leaning casually into the microphone. âWell, you know me. I like a good challenge,â he said, his gaze holding hers for a second longer than necessary. âAnd I couldnât let down the one person who told me I had to keep improving.â
The implication wasnât lost on anyone listening, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She rolled her eyes slightly, playing it off as best she could. âSeems like youâre making a habit of climbing positions to impress,â she replied, keeping her tone light.
Francoâs smile softened, turning almost genuine. âFor some things,â he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear, âitâs worth the effort.â
She swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, but managed to pull herself together, keeping the interview rolling. âWell, youâve certainly earned that P10. Whatâs the plan for next time? Any more surprise performances in store?â
âOh, definitely,â he replied, flashing her a grin. âBut letâs say Iâll aim higher than P10 next time. If someone out there is willing to set a new challenge for me, Iâll be ready.â His words hung in the air, a subtle invitation that made her heart skip a beat.
She couldnât hold back her smile as she wrapped up the interview, his gaze lingering on her with that same unspoken promise. And as she watched him walk away, her heart raced with the thrill of what might come next, realising that maybeâjust maybeâshe was ready to see where this challenge would lead.
As Franco walked away, she felt the lingering warmth of his gaze, that same thrill coursing through her that sheâd tried so hard to brush off. But now, it seemed, she wasnât entirely sure she wanted to. The interview had felt like more than just a casual exchange; his words, his lookâthere was something real beneath the flirtation, something she found herself wanting to chase.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of post-race coverage and media duties, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes had held hers, steady and genuine, as heâd promised to aim even higher. It was only when she caught herself looking around the paddock, almost instinctively, that she realised she was seeking him out. By then, her professional caution had faded, replaced by something far less reasonable but far more enticing.
She knew she was violating so many unspoken rules as she made her way around the paddock, ducking out of the more crowded paths and slipping past the occasional lingering crew member. A pang of guilt buzzed at the back of her mind, but it was no match for the magnetic pull drawing her toward his driverâs room.
She stopped outside the door, exhaling a shaky breath as her pulse raced with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The hallway was quiet, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading away. Before she could second-guess herself, she raised her hand and knocked softly.
The door opened, and there he was, in a grey tracksuit and plain black top, his expression shifting from surprise to that warm, familiar smile that had always managed to disarm her.
âWell,â he said, leaning against the doorframe, his voice dropping to a low murmur, âI didnât expect my motivation to show up in person.â
She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her smile. âI figured Iâd come to make sure youâre planning to keep your word. That climb to P10 wasnât exactly a small feat.â
His smile softened, and he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her in. As the door clicked shut behind them, the noise and pressures of the paddock slipped away, leaving just the two of them. The look he gave herâwarm, unguarded, and almost vulnerableâmade her heart skip a beat.
Sheâd broken so many of her own rules just to get here, but in this moment, she couldnât bring herself to regret a single one.
Taking a moment to look around, she noticed his bags were packed and ready for the triple header and that there was nowhere to sit.
She sat on the edge of his bed, trying to look at ease despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Franco stood in front of her, close enough that her knees brushed his legs. The room felt charged with his presence, the quiet intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away.
âDidnât think Iâd see you here,â he murmured, leaning down a bit. The way his dark eyes lingered on her, sweeping over her face and holding her gaze, sent a rush of warmth through her.
She felt a smile tugging at her lips, trying to keep her voice steady. âFigured Iâd make sure youâre holding up after all that hard work.â
He chuckled, his voice low, with just a hint of playfulness. âOh, Iâm holding up just fine.â He reached out, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, letting his thumb linger just a moment too long against her skin. âIn fact, I think Iâm doing better than fine.â
Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she held his gaze, determined not to let him throw her off-balanceâat least not completely. âYou know,â she said, trying to match his tone, âyou donât have to turn everything into a line, Colapinto.â
Franco tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. âOnly with you, cariño.â
She let out a soft laugh, her heartbeat picking up as he moved closer, until he was standing right between her legs. She felt his fingers trace gently along her jawline, his thumb tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes.
âNot used to being flirted with, cariño?â he asked softly, his voice smooth and teasing.
She swallowed, feeling her blush deepen as her usual composure slipped. âNo⊠not like this.â
âShame,â he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek as his eyes searched hers, warm and intent. His voice softened, and the playfulness gave way to something more genuine. âBecause Iâm just getting started.â
She felt her breath hitch, her pulse racing as his words sank in, leaving her both disarmed and impossibly drawn in. And in that moment, she realised that every wall sheâd put up around him was slipping away, piece by piece.
For a moment, she couldnât take her eyes off him, the air between them thick with anticipation. Then, she noticed the small silver chain dangling from his neck, glinting faintly against the fabric of his black top, and without thinking, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around it gently.
Francoâs gaze flickered in surprise, his breath catching as she tugged on the chain, pulling him just close enough that their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through her that made her heart pound. His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the charged silence.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and exploratory, but the warmth in his response was immediate. His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his touch gentle yet confident.
She didnât realise how tightly she was gripping his chain until she felt his hand cover hers, his thumb tracing lightly over her knuckles as if to say, Iâm here.
When they finally parted, both of them slightly breathless, Franco looked at her, hand caressing her cheek, his smile soft and real, devoid of his usual playfulness. He looked at her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach flip.
âYou know," he started, his voice dipping into that smooth, charming tone, âI thought I never had a chance with you. You made me work for every single look, every smileâŠâ He shook his head, his hand still resting against her cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath her jaw. âI was convinced youâd never actually let me get this close.â
She felt a warm, amused smile tugging at her lips as she listened to him, his words genuine but tinged with that familiar, playful charm. Watching him, her heart surged with an undeniable impulse, one she didnât want to ignore any longer. In one fluid motion, she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his again with a fierce, unrestrained intensity that sent sparks through her.
Francoâs surprise melted instantly, his hands slipping from her cheek to either side of her hips, matching her passion. The kiss deepened, turning slower, almost reverent, as if neither of them wanted the moment to end. She could feel his pulse racing under her hands, his warmth overwhelming in the most exhilarating way.
Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, drawing him down with her onto the bed. She felt his weight settle gently over her, his hands bracing on either side of her as he kissed her with a hunger that felt both new and inevitable. When he finally pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over hers, his voice was breathless, a bit dazed.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted this,â he murmured, his fingers tracing down her arm as he held her gaze, a vulnerable softness there she hadnât seen before.
âGood,â she whispered back, her own voice unsteady, feeling as though her walls were completely gone now. âBecause I donât plan on making it easy for you.â
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned down, his mouth finding hers again with an eagerness that left them both completely lost in each other, as if the rest of the world had faded away.
Maybe he was worth the wait.
the end.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 fanfic#williams#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto x yn#williams f1#williams racing#williams formula 1#f1 social media au#franco colapinto smau#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#ann speaks#formula 1#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto fanfic
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Aemond Targaryen - Embracing the Unexpected
Summary -Â Aemond and his wife navigate the fear, love, and uncertainty of new parenthood, discovering that the joy of new life is irresistible, even when it arrives as an unexpected set of multiple babies.
Pairing -Â Aemond Targaryen x reader
Warnings -Â Childbirth (brief)
Word count - 2482
Masterlist for Aemond âą House of the Dragon General Masterlist
"You startled me," I gasped, my voice trembling as I felt a pair of hands trail softly across my bare shoulders. My heart raced, pounding in my chest, as I clung desperately to the discarded fabric of my gown.
"It's only me," Aemond murmured, his voice low and soothing. He pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of my neck, his hands gliding along my sides.Â
I drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. With a subtle wriggle, I slipped out of his embrace and stepped away, wrapping the nightgown more securely around myself before turning to face him.
His expression was a mixture of concern and sadness.
"What's the matter?" he asked softly as I made my way to the bed. I sat down, crossing my legs and began to braid my hair with methodical movements.
"Nothing," I replied, barely above a whisper. Aemond sat beside me, his fingers gently untangling the strands of my hair as he watched me with a worried gaze.
"Then why have you been keeping me at a distance these past few weeks?" he asked, his lips brushing against the side of my neck.Â
I gripped the sheets tightly, my face averted as the flush of distress spread from my cheeks to the tips of my ears.
He pulled back, his eyes searching mine with a pained expression.Â
"Am I repulsing you?" he asked, his voice thick with hurt. Before I could respond, he continued, "Do you no longer want me?"
I shook my head quickly, my heart aching at the thought of causing him such pain. I moved closer to him, desperate to reassure him.Â
"No, it's not that at all. I promise," I said, my voice earnest. I could see the hurt in his eyes, and it made me feel even more unsettled.
"Aemond, it's just..." I started, the words tangling in my throat as I struggled to articulate my feelings. My mind raced, the weight of the truth pressing down on me until I couldn't hold it back any longer.Â
"I'm with child," I blurted out, the confession leaving my lips before I could second-guess it.
His reaction was instant. His head snapped towards me, eye wide with shock.Â
For a moment, his face lit up with joy, but as he registered my anxiety, that joy dimmed. The light in his expression faded, and he slowly stood from the bed, turning away from me as if to shield himself from what he feared might come next.
"Wait," I cried out, desperation seizing my heart as tears welled up in my eyes. The mere thought of him walking away from me, from us, was unbearable. "Please, don't leave."
His back remained turned, but his voice was sharp, carrying the weight of his wounded pride.Â
"Does the thought of having a child with me cause such distress?" he asked, his words laced with bitterness. I shook my head, realizing too late that he couldn't see my silent denial.
"No, no, Aemond, it's not like that at all," I pleaded, my voice cracking under the strain of my emotions. "I'm just... afraid."
Finally, he turned around to face me, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern.Â
"Why are you afraid?" he asked, his voice softer now, though it was clear he was struggling to understand.
"I'm afraid that I won't be enough," I whispered, my deepest fears spilling out into the open.Â
"That I'll fail you, that I'll fail our child. I'm terrified of what's to come, of not knowing how to be a mother, of not being able to protect our child from the dangers of this world and most of all, I'm afraid that you'll see me differently now, that I'll lose you in ways I can't even fathom."
Aemond's expression softened, and he took a step closer to me, reaching out to cup my face in his hands.Â
"You're not going to lose me," he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. "We'll face this together, whatever comes. You're not alone in this, and I will be by your side every step of the way. We'll figure it out, I promise you."
Tears spilt over, and I leaned into his touch, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands. His words were a balm to my anxious heart, but the fear still lingered, a shadow that would take time to fully dispel.Â
Eight months later, I found myself pacing the chamber, one hand pressed against my back, the other cradling my swollen belly.Â
Each step was a struggle, my breaths coming in short, laboured gasps as the pain in my abdomen grew more intense. Every contraction felt like a wave crashing over me, leaving me trembling and weak.
I groaned, my forehead resting heavily against the bedpost as another contraction tore through me. My hair was matted to my forehead, damp with sweat, and my body ached under the immense strain.Â
It felt as though I might burst from the pressure, the sheer force of it overwhelming me.
"Where is Aemond? Where is he?" I gasped, my voice tinged with desperation as I scanned the room.Â
Faces blurred around me, the maids and midwives moving quickly, but none of them were the ones I needed to see.
"The father's presence is not customary during the birth," the maester explained calmly, though his words were drowned out by the scream that erupted from my lips.Â
The pain was unbearable, and the thought of going through this without Aemond made it worse.
"I want Aemond!" I cried out, pushing away the handmaidens who were attempting to soothe me. Their gentle hands and soft words were of no comfort, only he could provide that.
As if summoned by my plea, the door to the chamber burst open, and Aemond rushed in, his face pale with worry. Without a moment's hesitation, he ran to my side, his arms encircling me in a protective embrace.
"Aemond, please, stay with me. I can't do this alone," I sobbed, clutching at him as if he were my lifeline.
"My prince," the maester began, his voice tinged with disapproval, "it is not customary for the father to be presentâ"
"I do not care what is customary," Aemond snapped, his voice steely with resolve. "If my wife wants me to stay, I will stay."
He guided me toward the bed, his hands gentle but firm as he helped me lie down. Another scream tore from my throat, the pain intensifying as my body prepared for the final stage of labour.Â
Aemond held my hand tightly, his presence grounding me amid the chaos.
"You're doing so well," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple as he tried to soothe me. "I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere."
Each contraction came with a force that seemed to split me in two. Time lost all meaning as I focused solely on Aemond's steady presence.
The pain was blinding, but knowing he was there kept me from being completely consumed by it.
Minutes stretched into hours, each moment a battle as my body worked tirelessly to bring our child or so we thought into the world. Aemond never wavered, his hands steady on mine, his words a constant source of comfort.Â
When I felt I could push no more, when I was certain I had nothing left to give, his voice would pull me back, reminding me that I was not alone.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the maester's voice broke through the haze of pain.Â
"The babe is crowning," he announced, and I gasped, the realization that the end was near bringing a rush of determination.
"Just a little more," Aemond whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're almost there."
With a final, desperate push, I felt a release, and the sound of a baby's cry filled the room. Tears welled up in my eyes as I collapsed against the pillows, utterly exhausted but relieved beyond measure.
"It's a boy," the maester announced, placing the squirming, crying infant in Aemond's arms. His face was a mixture of awe and disbelief as he looked down at our son, and then back at me.
"You did it," he whispered, his voice filled with pride.
Before I could respond, another contraction hit, more intense than before. My eyes widened in shock, and I looked at Aemond, fear creeping back into my heart.Â
"There's another one," I gasped, my hand gripping his with renewed urgency.
The maester's expression shifted from concern to realization. "There's another babe," he confirmed, moving quickly to assist with the unexpected second birth.
Aemond's eyes were wide with shock, but he quickly regained his composure, focusing entirely on me.Â
"You can do this," he said, his voice steady. "I'm right here with you."
The second labour was just as intense, but somehow, knowing what to expect made it more bearable. Aemond's hand never left mine, his voice guiding me through each agonizing contraction. After what felt like an eternity, a second cry filled the room.
"It's another boy," the maester said, handing the newborn to a waiting handmaiden to clean and wrap.
Aemond's eye was shining with tears as he looked between our two sons.
Before I could catch my breath, a sharp pain tore through me once more, I felt as though my body was being torn apart.. My heart raced, panic rising as I realized there was yet another child.
The maester's expression turned serious as he realized the truth. "Triplets," he said, a mix of amazement and concern in his voice. "This will be the last one."
Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, but Aemond's presence kept me from sinking into despair.Â
"You're almost there," he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. "Just one more, love. You can do this."
With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed through the final wave of pain. The third birth was the hardest, with my body protesting the entire way, but finally, mercifully, it was over.Â
The last cry filled the room, softer and more delicate than the others.
"It's a girl," the maester announced, his tone gentler now, as he carefully swaddled our daughter.
Aemond was speechless, his eye wide with disbelief and joy as he looked at the three tiny bundles in the hands of the midwives. "Three..." he whispered as if he couldn't quite believe it. "We have three."
I collapsed back onto the pillows, utterly spent but filled with a profound sense of love and accomplishment. Tears streamed down my face as Aemond placed our daughter in my arms, her tiny features perfect and serene.
He sat beside me, holding our two sons, his expression one of utter devotion. "You did it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You brought them into the world."
Despite the exhaustion, despite the pain, nothing could overshadow the overwhelming joy of that moment.
A couple of hours passed in a haze of exhaustion and bliss. The room, once filled with the frantic energy of childbirth, had quieted into a peaceful sanctuary.Â
The three tiny bundles nestled in our arms were the centre of our world, their soft breaths and occasional whimpers the only sounds breaking the stillness.
Aemond sat beside me on the bed, cradling our two sons, while our daughter rested against my chest. I marvelled at their delicate features, the softness of their skin, and the way they seemed to fit perfectly into our arms.Â
It was overwhelming to think that just hours ago, they had been growing inside me, and now they were here each a tiny miracle.
The door creaked open, and I looked up to see Alicent entering the chamber. Her face, usually so composed and regal, softened as she took in the sight before her.Â
Her eyes shone with a mixture of pride and love as she approached the bed, her steps careful and measured.
"Aemond," she greeted her son, her voice warm with affection. "And how are you, my dear?" she asked, turning to me with a smile that reached her eyes.
"Tired, but happy," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, still feeling the lingering exhaustion from the ordeal.
Alicent's gaze shifted to the three babes, her expression one of awe. She reached out to gently stroke the cheek of our daughter, her fingers tender and light.Â
"They're beautiful," she said softly, her voice filled with admiration. "Three little blessings. I don't think I've ever seen anything so perfect."
I smiled, my heart swelling with pride and joy.Â
"They are," I agreed, my voice catching in my throat as I looked down at our daughter. The love I felt for them was overwhelming, almost too much to contain.
Alicent moved her gaze to the two boys in Aemond's arms, her smile deepening as she reached out to touch their tiny hands.Â
"Have you decided on names?" she asked, her tone gentle as she looked between us.
Aemond and I exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between us. We had spent countless nights talking about names, but now that they were here, the decision felt weightier, more significant.
Finally, Aemond spoke, his voice soft yet steady. "We have," he said, his eyes meeting his mother's. "Our daughter will be named Viserra,"
Alicent's eyes softened further, her smile widening. "Viserra," she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue with reverence. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
"And our sons," I added, my voice trembling with emotion, "will be named Vaegon and Viserion."
Alicent's eyes flickered with recognition, and she nodded approvingly. "Vaegon and Viserion," she echoed, her voice filled with pride. "Strong names for strong boys. They will carry them well."
She looked between us, her expression one of deep affection and pride. "You have chosen well," she said, her voice filled with warmth.
Alicent leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.Â
"I am so proud of you both," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You have brought such light into this world, and I know you will be wonderful parents."
She stepped back, giving us a moment of privacy, her eyes lingering on the three tiny babes who had already stolen all our hearts.Â
"Rest now," she said, her voice tender. "You have earned it and when you're ready, we will celebrate these new additions to our family."
As she left the room, the warmth of her presence lingered, filling the chamber with a sense of peace and fulfilment. Aemond looked at me, his face filled with love and gratitude.Â
"Viserra, Vaegon, and Viserion," he repeated softly as if the names were a prayer, a promise for the future.
I nodded, smiling through my tears as I looked down at our children. "They're perfect," I whispered, my heart swelling with love for the tiny lives we had brought into the world.
Aemond leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hand resting gently on our daughter's back.Â
As we sat there, surrounded by the quiet strength of our love and the promise of our future, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.
A/n -Â I swear thinking of the names took longer than writing the whole thing literally had to hop onto reddit.
Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#hotd one shot#hotd season 2#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd fanfic#team green#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd aemond#aemond one eye#prince aemond
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Joyride
[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths đ«¶
WC: 2556
Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}
In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao
ăâąâąââąâąă
Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.
A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the groundâa lot of blood.
"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"
You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person⊠or thing would be, but⊠there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.
Did you hit a deer, and it just⊠ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.
You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!
You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.
So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.
And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.
You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.
The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.
"Well, arenât you just a heart breakâ"
He didnât get the chance to finish his sentence.
You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.
Unfortunately, you didnât get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.
"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.
You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.
"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"
"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. Youâve really opened up my horizons here."
It almost sounded like he was pouting.
"What theâ! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"
"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"
The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, thatâs when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.
"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and youâre just⊠well, Iâm sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."
"Your arm⊠your wrist. It's broken," you told him.
"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"
"Uh⊠no, not really. Why?"
"Cause, baby, Iâm Shaking It Off!"
There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasnât about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of normâ
But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.
What you didnât know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.
"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.
He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.
"So⊠Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"
You could only stare.
"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesnât involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."
You couldnât believe this was happening.
"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.
Even if you couldnât see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.
"Why, thank you, darling."
Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldnât really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.
"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.
"Right," you nodded.
âWell, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesnât matter because it doesnât affect you anymore, am I right?"
You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.
"âŠDo you ever shut up?"
"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."
"I donât think that would've been funny."
"That's what the last girl said."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhm. Except she wasnât talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."
You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.
"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."
He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.
"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."
You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"
"Orange."
"Orange, who?"
"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"
"That wasnât even good."
"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.
"That wouldnât have helped," you said.
"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."
"I suppose."
"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."
"You justâ"
"Knock knock."
You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weirdâ
"Knock knock."
"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"
"No! It doesn't work that way!"
You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.
"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."
You didn't say anything.
"Knock knock."
Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.
"Knock knock."
"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"
He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.
"Deadpool."
You were confused.
"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."
He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.
"No. My name's Deadpool."
"ThatâsâŠ" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."
"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but donât you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; itâs a very rare art."
"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."
"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."
"So then⊠What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"
He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That⊠That was⊠oh.
He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.
"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."
"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."
"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.
His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.
"What do you wanna know?" He asked.
"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"
"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasnât nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."
You didnât respond. You kept your eyes on the road.
"Fine," he relented. "But donât expect a happy ending. This isnât Kanas anymore, Toto."
He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.
"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."
You raised an eyebrow.
"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky⊠and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."
Maybe you should start carrying tape around.
"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasnât leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I shouldâve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasnât this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"
He paused for a moment.
"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."
You decided to ignore him.
"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"
"I canât believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."
"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"
"I donât know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."
"First sign of insanity."
"What?"
"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Donât tell me youâre gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? Iâm just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and itâll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."
You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.
"Alright, turn here."
You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.
"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."
"I didnât ask."
"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."
"Right."
"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."
"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."
"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."
You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."
"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."
"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.
"See you soon, Spidey!"
With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.
After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.
The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:
'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'
ââ
Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.
And no, you did not have Dominoâs luck.
#wade wilson#deadpool#ryan reynolds#deadpool 3#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman#wade wilson x reader#deadpool x reader#wade wilson x you#wade wilson x yn#wade wilson/reader#deadpool x y/n#deadpool x you#deadpool/reader#deadpool imagine#wade wilson imagine#ryan reynolds x reader#ryan reynolds imagine#deadpool drabble#marvel#marvelfic#marvel x reader#x men x reader#xmen x reader#xmen fandom#marvel fanfic#marvel fandom#marvel fanfiction#mcu x reader#mcu fandom
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New years kisses with the JJK men (nsfw & sfw)
Incl: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Yuji, Megumi
contains: fem reader, crack, fluff, smut, semi-public sex, finger sucking, domesticness, rough sex, teasing, dirty talk
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Gojo: SFW
The clock was ticking, only two minutes to go. It seemed everyone had found their partner or friend they were going to kiss to enter the new year together. You on the other hand? You were busying yourself getting another drink from the kitchen, which was completely vacant, save for Megumi's demon dogs chasing each other at your feet.
Even a pair of shikigami wasn't going to be alone on New Year's Eve, ugh. Of course, you had someone you wanted to kiss, but it was too unrealistic. Gojo Satoru. The two of you had gotten fairly close over the past year since you transferred from the Kyoto school to work at Jujutsu High. Clearly not as close as you thought though, as Gojo was last seen mingling with some female teacher you didnt recognize by the TV.
You turned around to peel open the fridge door to get yourself another seltzer. After digging around and finding just what you needed as the reality of another year going by with n new Year's kiss, you slammed the door shut, and almost fell straight on your ass at the piercing blue eyes that came into view.
Gojo chased your body, his hands wrapping around your waist as he caught you from falling. "Sorry~ Didn't mean to scare you," Gojo said, giggling as he watched you catch your breath, your heart still racing from the scare. He was so close, so warm. His hands were gripping you so firmly, like he didn't want you to let you go, even though you were no longer at risk for falling.
Well, honestly, It's probably a good thing he didnt let go, because the proximity of his body to yours and his delicious cologne were both making you dizzy. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. "Were you hiding from me?" He whispered, a faux pout covering his features as he tipped his head at you.
A blush spread over your cheeks as you tried to avert your gaze from his intimidating one. "The ball is about to drop, what are you doing in here?" You asked, avoiding his question. You quickly tried to look around the main room through the opening to the kitchen, looking for the girl you saw Satoru with.
"Ohh, so you know the ball is about to drop and you're hiding from me on purpose, huh?" You went to speak again, but the chant of dozens of people pouting down from ten swarmed your ears, stopping your train of thought. "You were looking for me?" "Nine! Eight!" "Why would I not be looking for you? His arms tightened around your waist, pulling your chest closer to his.
You hovered your hands over the sides of his waist, fearing if you touched him he might disappear. "Five! Four!" "Gojo stop playing, you're running out of time go find your new years kiss it's-"
"Two!, One!"
His lips were on yours before you could register what was happening. Your eyes shot open for a moment in shock before you reciprocated the kiss, slotting your lips against his. Your hand instinctually found their way to his chest, pressing against his sturdy from for leverage as the two of you kissed like you were the only two people in the worlds.
Cheers and music could be heard from the main room as the ball dropped and the time finally hit 12:00, signaling the new year. Satoru finally pulled away after what felt like forever. Both of your faces blushing, your lips buzzing with the skin of where his once was. "You're so dense sometimes." He giggled, making you jerk your head back in offense, your hand lightly batting his chest.
"What?" You said, your face scrunching in annoyance. "I've been trying to hint at you that I like you this entire year." He said, his eyes going wide as he explained himself. "Well, I don't know if it counts as 'hinting' if I tell you to your face that you're my soulmate, but I don't know. Maybe that wasn't obvious enough for your dense little head." Gojo said mockingly, releasing one of his hands around your waist to poke you in the forehead, making your eyebrows scrunch together.
"How am I supposed to take you seriously when you say stuff like that all the time? You're always joking around like that!" You exclaimed, getting in his face. His soft lips against yours made your frustration go away in an instant. "Never with you," Satoru said, his voice suddenly sounding too serious to belong to him. "I've never joked like that with you." A deeper blush was spreading itself over his face as he smiled, easing the sudden tension he caused.
You brought your eyes back to his, your mouth staying together in a pout. "So did you take that kiss as a joke too?" He asked, breaking the silence, his silly demeanor taking over once more. "How.. how could I after you just confessed." You said, your hands sliding down his chest. "THAT'S what did it? Would you have thought the kiss was a joke if I didn't follow it up with my amazing, beautiful confession?" Gojo asked, getting in your face.
You scoffed out a laugh before you pushed yourself out of his grip, turning away as you started walking to the main room with a smile on your face. "Hey! Hey, I'm talking to you! Do you like me back! Are we boyfriend, girlfriend now?! I wasn't done talkingg!" Gojo asked needily, hot on your heels as he chased you into the main room to interrogate you.
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Geto: SFW
Ten years later, and the parties Gojo threw as an adult looked exactly the same. Even the people were the same. You couldn't lie that it was fairly comfortable, save for the music that was giving you a migraine, but Gojo always did like his music loud.
You and Geto had arrived together, and the two of you stayed conjoined at the hip for the entirety of the night, Gojo checked in on you occasionally as people were constantly dragging him away to converse, he was Gojo Satoru after all. Geto was the first one to get your attention after hours of catching up with everyone. His fingers tugged the bottom of your dress towards him, the feeling making you look down at his hand before your eyes found his darker ones.
He signaled to the couch with his thumb, silently asking you if you wanted to go sit down. You were thankful he said something, your feet were aching in your heels and you didn't know how much more small talk you had in you. You knew most of the people at the party, but some of your coworkers and work friends had brought their significant others--which had led to introduction after introduction, you don't think you've ever said your own name so many times in one night.
The alcohol you had been sipping on had started to make you feel dizzy too, your body feeling instant relief when your ass hit the soft cushions of the couch, your head leaning back against the large pillow behind you. You felt the cushion dip next to you when Geto joined you, his thigh pressing into yours from how close he was.
"You havin' fun?" He asked into the shell of your ear, making goosebumps cover your arms at the sound, his hot breath tickling your skin. You turned your head to face him, not realizing how close he really was. You were thankful for the color-changing LED lights in Geto's main room, or Geto might've noticed the blush on your face.
You nodded before speaking, "Yeah! I love seeing everyone loosen up in a setting like this, it's a nice change of pace from the usual seriousness of everyone's day-to-day at the school." You kept your eyes on his when you spoke, noticing how his eyes kept fluttering down to your lips, but you just brushed it off.
"Yeah? You're right, It is nice to see everyone like this." He said, his large hand coming to land on your knee, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin there. "You deserve it too, love seein' you so relaxed." Geto's looked so handsome like this. His hair fell freely around his face as he leaned his head back against the couch to match yours. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, giving you a delicious view of his porcelain skin that change color under the lights.
"Thank you, baby." You said, your hand tucking his long hair behind his ears. "Boo, get a room," Shoko said, the other side of the couch dipping next to you as her feet slid over your thighs. You turned your head, your hands placing themselves on her legs as she leaned back, cupping her hand over her mouth as she lit a cigarette, the orange glow illuminating her face.
"You get tired of being social?" Geto asked, grabbing her legs and throwing them off of you, her heels hitting the ground with a dull click as her body was forced to sit upright to match the two of you. "I don't like these things in the first place. I'm only here because Utahime is here." She confessed, taking a drag from her cigarette.
"So why aren't you with her now?" You asked, tipping your head at her. "Lost her in Gojo's mansion. The ball is about to drop too, guess I'll be getting my kiss late." She said, jerking her head forward to the large flat screen that displayed a twenty-second count down on the screen.
"Oh shit, didn't realize it was so close, c'mere baby," Geto said, leaning over you. Effortlessly, he picked up your body and made your thighs straddle his own, your hands wrapping around his neck instinctually. Shoko groaned from the side of you, the cushion inflating back to normal as she was gone faster than she had arrived, not wanting to see you and Geto makeout.
The sound of the countdown got louder as Gojo turned up the volume from somewhere in the room. Briefly glancing around, you saw people scramble around the large space to find their significant other--looks like everyone lost track of time. Geto's hand on your face pulled you away from the distraction of everyone's commotion and led your attention back to him. "Focus on me baby, don't wanna miss this," Geto said, tucking your hair behind your ear.
Before you knew it, it was 8 seconds till midnight, and Geto was staring into your eyes like you were the only person in the room. His serious gaze made you giggle, your hands coming to cup his cheeks as his arms wrapped around your waist. You tilted your head to the side, slowly bringing your faces close together as the countdown got down to three.
"Happy New Year, baby," Geto whispered against your mouth before his lips were on yours. You hummed into the kiss, your eyes closing as you pressed your lips to his, the kiss full of love and promise to keep each other safe and loved going into the new year. He wrapped his arms around your body tightly before he stood up, spinning you around. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, your ankles locking to keep yourself tight against him.
You giggled as his spinning came to a stop, the large man leaning down to place your feet on the ground before he broke the kiss, his hands cradling your face as you smiled from ear to ear. "I'm going to marry you someday." He whispered in all seriousness, smiling at you with the most sincere look of happiness he could muster.
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Toji: NSFW
"Ah-ah-ah-mmmph-" Your moans were muffled by Toji's large hand pressing over your mouth. "Shhh, gotta be fuckin' quiet pretty girl." He groaned into your ear, giving you deep but slow thrusts as he spoke. "Don't want someone catchin' us like this, right?" He asked, biting your ear lobe between his teeth, making your eyes roll back in your head.
You nodded against his hand, your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked at him through the mirror, his dark eyes raking over your body, his sharp eyes watching the way your tits bounced underneath your dress. "You not wearin' a bra?" Toji asked, the hand he was using to grip your hip sliding up to massage your tit in his hand over the material of your dress, his hips shallowly thrusting into you, his fat tip kissing your sweet spot with every thrust, making your legs shake.
You shook your head, your eyes fluttering when he found your nipple and tweaked it between his fingers, the material of the dress making the stimulation extra intense. "Naughty girl.." He whispered, keeping his eyes on yours in the mirror as he pressed his lips to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His middle finger, slid against your lips before he pressed it against them, waiting for you to open up.
"You wanted me to fuck you in here like this huh? Planned it from the start." He said with a malicious grin, watching your lips part as you took his finger in your mouth. He didnt even give you a chance to reply before he was leaning back and fucking into you--hard. The fat of your ass rippling as his hips hit your ass, his fat cock being bullied into your walls.
Your jaw was slack as Toji pressed his finger to the back of your throat, drool sliding down his hand as he fucked pathetic whimpers from your mouth, keeping his hand on your tit as he massaged it harshly in his big hand. "Shhh-shhh what did I say?" Toji asked, his eyes squinting at yours in the mirror. He watched as they tried to stay put in their sockets, the usually simple feat proving hard every time Toji fucked his girth into you.
"What did I fucking. Say." Toji repeated, emphasizing his words with a mean thrust, making your jaw drop open more in a silent moan before you gapsed sharply. Both of your smaller hands shot up to grip his thick wrist for support, his finger hooking onto your bottom row of teeth as he pulled your jaw down, trying to challenge you. "B-be quiet, you said 't be q-quiet-" You whisper moaned, your words getting louder at the end each time his hips collided with yours.
"So you can listen, good girl." Toji looked down between where the two of you were connected, his hand abandoning your tit to pull up your dress so he could watch his cock force it's way into the tight ring of your cunt, your fluids making his dick shine under the fluorescent bathroom lights every time he pulled out, making him groan.
Toji pulled his finger from your mouth, grabbing both sides of your hips in his hands as he prepared to fuck into your harder, one of your hands sliding behind you to grab his arm for leverage as the other pressed firmly over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Just before he started being meaner than he already was, he was stopped by chanting coming from outside the room. "Ten! Nine! Eight!"
Toji's hips paused completely, giving you time to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling dramatically with each gasp. "Oh shit, it's almost new years baby." Toji said, smirking at your fucked out face through the mirror. "Toji.. Kiss.." You whispered through your gasps, looking at him desperately, your hand behind you squeezing around his wrist in urgency.
"Yeah, yeah. Cmere, crybaby." Toji teased. He pressed his chest to your back, reaching his hand around you he grabbed your chin, turning your head to the side, his other wrapping around your waist. "Three! Two! One!" The voices of the people outside the bathroom came muffled through the door as Toji smirked, pressing your lips together in a kiss full of love, contrary to his mean hips bullying you just seconds ago.
Toji slowly ground his hips against your ass, his mushroom tip rubbing against your sweet spot, making you whine into his mouth. He kissed you long and hard, his eyes cracking open to watch your face in the mirror as he kissed you. Toji smiled against your lips when he felt your cunt squeeze around him when he slipped his tongue in your mouth, tangling it with yours. He pulled back after a couple seconds of teasing, your lips being connected by a string of saliva as you breathed heavily against the others lips.
Toji looked between your fucked out expression, and your swollen lips before he leaned back in to press a quick peck against your lips, licking his own as he pulled away for good. "Happy New Year pretty girl. Let me fuck my cum into you to make sure we start this year off right, yeah?" Oh, Toji, always the romanticist.
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Nanami: NSFW
Nanami reached his hand over the table, his eyes watching the way your lips wrapped around his fork as you took all of the chocolate cake into your mouth. He pulled his fork back to get himself a bite, smiling as he watched your eyes practically roll back in your head at the rich flavor. "Kento." You groaned, covering your mouth as you spoke.
He smiled, briefly looking down to scoop a forkful of the brown cake for himself. "Is it alright, my love?" He asked, holding his fork out in front of his mouth, the sweet cocoa smell flooding his nose as he waited for you to speak. "Kento, taste that right now." You said, swallowing the desert he made from scratch.
The blonde-haired man laughed at your dramatics--or what he thought were dramatics before the cake hit his tastebuds. His eyebrows raised in surprise, his eyes finding yours as he tipped his head at you, saying nothing as he chewed the cake, but his expression said it all. "Right? Riiiight? Kento, is there anything you can't do?" You asked, shaking your head in disbelief at your husband's talent.
He giggled, lifting the napkin on his lap to clean his mouth off. "I do agree this time... I think I outdid myself." He praised his own work, making you giggle. You used the table as leverage as you lifted yourself to sit on your shins on the chair, leaning forward you opened your mouth, looking up at Nanami. "Don't keep me waiting, Ken." You said teasingly, waiting for him to cut another piece for you to eat.
Nanami smiled fondly as he lifted his fork to your lips. Just before the cake made it into your mouth, it fell off the utensil, falling onto your chest, the chocolate frosting smearing on the skin of your clavicle. "Oh shoot." You said ashamed--not that the frosting had gotten on you, but because a perfectly good piece of the cake was now ruined.
"Shit, I'm sorry honey. Stay still." Nanami said, pushing himself back from his chair to wet a towel to clean you up with. A sudden idea popped into your head, your hand shooting out to grab his wrist to stop him before he got too far. "Wait." You said, sitting back down onto your chair properly, sightly pulling Nanami's body towards you.
Nanami raised his eyebrows, confused at why you had stopped him. "I have another way you can clean me up." You said teasingly, wiggling your eyebrows at Nanami. Immediately his expression softened, a small smile taking place on his face as he strode to your side of the table, standing in front of you. Nanami could already take a guess at how you wanted him to clean you up.
"Can you get on your knees for me Ken?" You asked sweetly, playing with his fingers in your hand. "Of course, my love." He answered softly, slowly getting on one knee before he followed it with the other. He looked up at you, waiting for your further instruction. Your hands came forward to hold his chiseled face in your soft hands, Nanami's eyes fluttering at the touch.
"You have such good skin, Ken." You praised, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiled. "I have my lovely wife to thank for that." He answered. He was right though, every single night you pampered Nanami by laying him down and doing his skincare for him, it was his most treasured time with you.
"Yeah.. I guess you're right." You said, smiling. After raking your eyes over his handsome face once more, you bit your lip between your teeth, your eyes dropping to his lips. You looked down at your own chest where the frosting had fallen, Nanami's eyes following your own as he watched your movements carefully.
You retracted one of your hands from his face, gathering the frosting on the tip of your finger you brought it to his mouth, hovering it right over his lips. "Open please." You asked quietly, blushing at your own words. Nanami kept his eyes on yours as he did so, his tongue sliding out slightly to tease you.
He wrapped his lips around your finger, making your eyes flutter as you inhaled suddenly, feeling yourself start to throb between your legs. Nanami hummed around your finger, the deep sound only fueling the fire between your legs. Your eyebrows furrowed together as Nanami's tongue wrapped around the digit, licking off the rich frosting.
He pulled his head back, your finger popping out completely clean. Nanami licked his lips clean, making sure he got all of the frosting. "Delicious." He said quietly, his large hands sliding atop your thighs, his fingers slipping under the hem of your dress slightly as he teased you, dragging his fingers higher. "But you missed some..." Nanami whispered, raising himself on his knees.
"Yeah?" you asked teasingly, your hands sliding over Nanami's shoulders. "Yeah, right here," Nanami whispered against your skin. His hair tickled your neck as he leaned in, his tongue poking out between his lips as he licked the frosting directly off your chest. "Mmm." You moaned softly with your lips together, tangling your hands in Nanami's hair as his licking turned to sucking, his trail of kisses moving up your neck.
"Ken.." You moaned softly as he raised from his place on the floor, his hands sliding up your body, raising your dress slightly in the process as his knee made home on your chair, between your legs. Nanami kept his head on your neck, his hands feeling up your body as you tipped your head back, giving him unobstructed access to your neck.
He groaned against your skin, your legs pressing together around his thick thigh as his knee pressed against your cunt, stimulating your needy clit, making you whimper into the air. Your eyes fluttered open between his kisses, your eyes locking onto the clock, which currently read 12:05, you had missed the ball drop.
"Shit, Kento look at the time." You said, making him pull away from your neck, his head turning around to look at the clock. He looked back at you apologetically, his eyes taking in your adorable pout. "I'm sorry honey, got a little distracted." He smiled, making your pout subside slightly. "Now you have to make it up to me." You said, running your hands over Nanami's pecs and abs as he stood, his warm hand cradling your face.
"How so?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at your demands. You stood quickly, jumping into his arms, making him laugh at your sudden movements as he caught you, his hands cradling your ass. "First things first." You said before you pressed your lips to his, your hands wrapping around his neck, your nails raking over his undercut, making him groan into the kiss.
You pulled away, not wanting to waste the night any longer. Nanami looked disheveled already, just from a little pec. You cradled his cheeks in your hand before you leaned in, kissing the shell of his ear before you spoke. "Wanna see what you can do with your tongue somewhere else." Nanami let out a groan at your words, shaking his head as he felt his cock twitch.
"Who taught you to talk like that, huh?" He asked, walking you towards your shared bedroom as he spoke. " My husband." You giggled, pressing your lips to his once more as he navigated his way through the hallway.
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Yuji: SFW
Yuji had been sent on a mission with Nanami earlier in the morning. he told you when he left that Nanami said it wouldn't take very long, so you shouldn't worry--he would be back in time for your New Year's kiss. But it was 12:30 now, and you sat in Nobara's room, trying not to cry as she painted your nails, her playlist playing quietly in the backround as the new year count down played on her TV.
"I don't think he's going to make it back in time." You said, pouting as you watched her work in front of you. "I'm pretty sure he would part the Atlantic Ocean to get to you, stop worrying." She said, brushing off your concerns. Nobara had been very confident all night, throughout all your worrying, that Yuji was going to make it back before midnight.
"His mission was across town, and the roads are probably hell right now... I don't know. It's fine, there's always next year." You said unconvinced, ignoring Nobara's words completely. "Ugh, I didn't realize you were such a downer~ When have I ever been wrong about anything, ever?" She shouted, looking up at you offended, holding the nail polish bottle in one hand.
*ring ring* *ring ring*
Yuji's name popped up on your phone, the screen illuminating with a picture of the two of you on the beach. "Uh oh," Nobara said, only increasing the pit of despair you felt in your stomach. You glared at her before swallowing hard and answering the phone--you don't think your mouth has ever been so dry in your life. "Yuji? Everything okay?" You asked. The backround on Yuji's end sounded like he was in a car, giving you false hope before he spoke.
"I-I'm so sorry. I'm not going to make it back to the school in time. I'm really sorry." Yuji spoke into the receiver, sounding like he was about to cry. You squeezed your eyes shut, your hope shattering in your chest like glass. He sounded sad enough as it is, you didnt want to make him feel any worse than he already did, so you did your best to keep your disappointment out of your voice when you spoke.
"Its.. It's alright Yuji, I'll see you when you get here, I know you did your best." Nobara cringed hearing you talk, knowing that she had been wrong. The two of you exchanged a few more words, mostly "I'm sorry's" from Yuji, before you ended the call. You placed your phone back on the bed, face down, before you looked up at Nobara with an 'I told you so' look on your face.
She inhaled sharply, looking back down to your hand she took it in her own, dipping the brush in the nail polish and wiping it against the side as she got to work, "Shit.. uh.. I feel like I should say my bad for getting your hopes up. I'm literally never wrong." She said, brushing the paint over your nails. "It's not your fault Nobara, I told you It'll be fine." She wondered if you knew how horrible you were at concealing your disappointment. It had been painfully obvious when you tried to hide it over the phone with Yuji too.
Nobara had finished your nails at 11:40, and it was not 11:55. A part of you was still wishing Itadori would burst through Nobara's door, but you knew that was just false wishing. After all, he had called you himself and told you he wasn't going to make it. "We can smooch if you want, the ball is about to drop," Nobara said from her place on the bed. She was lying upside down, half of her body draped off the bed while she used her phone, her arms hanging out in front of her.
"You know I can't kiss you." You giggled, kicking her foot playfully. "Yeah, I know. Sorry about Itadori." She said honestly, making you feel choked up suddenly. He really wasn't going to make it, the realization finally hitting you when the clock hit 11:59, only 30 seconds before the ball dropped. Before you could open your mouth to say it was alright, you heard a loud bang outside Nobara's door, sounding like it had come from your room across the hall, making you and Nobara both jump.
"The fuck?" Nobara said, sliding off the bed completely, and sitting crisscross on the ground. You both sat in silence as you waited to hear something else. After a few seconds, loud and quick knocks were rapped on Nobara's door, followed by a very familiar voice. "KUGISAKI, IS MY GIRLFRIEND WITH YOU?????" Yuji yelled through the door. You could hear him pacing on the squeaky floor.
Before she even had a chance to answer you were on your feet, making a b-line for the door. You slid the door open as you came face to face with a red-faced, messy-haired, and sweating Itadori, right as the countdown to the new Year echoed "Three! Two! One!" In the backround. "Hey." He spoke, out of breath, a dopey smile on his face.
You wasted no time in wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing your lips to his. His hands wrapped around your waist, pressing your body snugly to yours as he kissed you back, his eyes squeezing together tightly. "YUCK, get a rooooom." Kugisaki groaned, covering her eyes as the two of you kissed in her doorway.
You pulled away, looking at him exasperatedly, your hands slapping over his face and squishing his cheeks, making sure he was real and not some figment of your imagination. Itadori laughed, keeping his arms snug around your waist as you toyed with his cheeks. "How are you here? I thought you weren't going to make it?" You asked, pressing kisses to his cheeks.
"I ran here. I could tell you were trying to hide it for my sake, but I couldn't stand how disappointed you sounded." He said, his cheeks turning red from your pampering. "You ran here?!" You asked, knowing how far away his mission was. That explained his disheveled appearance. "How far?" You followed up your question, your eyebrows raised in concern.
He laughed, rubbing his thumbs into your skin comfortingly. "Just a couple miles, nothing crazy." He said nonchalantly, your mouth hanging open in shock as he spoke. "I told you he would do anything for you!!" Nobara yelled, a big smile on her face as she pointed at Itadori, looking proud of herself. "She's right, I love you. Happy New Year." Itadori said, smiling at you fondly.
You leaned in to press another kiss to his lips briefly, pulling back to smile at his adorable face, "I love you Yuij Itadori."
Megumi: SFW
"C'mon man, you gotta do it," Yuji said to Megumi, standing behind him as he shook his shoulders in his hands, the two boys facing you as you mingled with Maki and Nobara in the corner. "I... I don't think I can." Megumi blushed, his eyes raking over your frame, taking in how beautiful you looked.
You had your hair all done up, and you were dressed to the heavens. How was Megumi supposed to kiss you if he could barely look at you? "I've never even kissed anyone before, what if I suck?" He asked Yuji insecurely, looking at the walls in the room like they were the most interesting thing in the world
"How hard can it be? You wanna practice with me?" Yuji asked in all seriousness. Megumi shook Yuji's hands off of his shoulders at that, "Be serious. I'm not losing my first kiss to you." He said, scowling at the pink-haired boy as he came to stand next to him. "Ouch... I was just trying to be nice." Yuji pouted dramatically, crossing his arms.
After a couple seconds of silence, as Yuji watched the dark-haired boy stare at you while blushing, he decided to give him a little push. "It's almost midnight Megumi, and uh... not trying to freak you out or anything, but I think you have a little competition," Yuij said, pursing his lips together. The speed at which Megumi turned his head to look at Yuji almost made him laugh, but he needed to keep his composure if his little fib was going to work.
"See blondie over there with Todo?" Yuji asked, tipping his head to the innocent-looking boy standing next to the mammoth that was Todo. "He's been eying up your girl allllll night," Yuji said. "She's not my..." Megumi trailed off, his eyes finding the boy Yuji was talking about. Coincidentally, the new kid from Kyoto happened to have a crush on Maki, which Yuji knew (thanks to Todo's big mouth) who was standing right next to you.
So when Megumi looked to see the boy staring at Maki, it really looked as if he was staring at you. Megumi didn't think he was a jealous person, but the way the boy was staring at 'you' made his blood boil. "Well... she certainly won't be your girl if you don't hurry and make a move before blondie does." Yuji teased, raising his eyebrows dramatically.
"Fuck.." Megumi cursed under his breath. His fists balled by his sides as he took a couple deep breaths, trying to prepare himself. "You got this!" Yuji cheered as Megumi took the first step forward, walking toward you. It was 5 minutes to 12, meaning Megumi had no time to lose.
"Oh, hey Megumi," Maki said, nodding at her bruting-looking cousin when he walked up. You blushed as your eyes focused on his face, he looked so handsome under the dim blue lighting of the main room. "Makiiiiii, Nobaraaaaa." Yuji mouthed, waving his arms dramatically to get their attention. The two girls looked over your shoulder to the pink haired boy making obnoxious movements with his arms.
Once he successfully got their attention, he pointed to you and Fushiguro, mouthing both of your names, before he turned around and pretended to make out with someone, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Nobara tried to hold back a laugh as she watched her classmate play charades across the room. When he turned back around, he waved them over, telling them to leave the two of you alone.
"Ah, bye Megumi!" Nobara said suddenly, not even trying to come up with some lame excuse as she dragged Maki by the hand away from the two of you, leaving you and Megumi alone under the light of the blue lamp in the corner of the room.
You can't believe your friends had just left you like that. You had just got done talking about how you wanted to kiss Megumi, and how nervous you were about talking to him tonight, and the second he walks up they abandon you? Some friends.
"What's up Megumi? You havin' fun?" You asked, trying to make small talk with your crush as the seconds ticked by faster and faster, midnight rapidly approaching. "Mm, it's not bad, parties aren't really my thing." He said, trying his best to not look at your lips while he spoke.
"Oh yeah? Me neither honestly. Why did you end up coming anyway?" You asked him, trying to keep the conversation going. "Why did you?" he retorted, catching you off guard. His dark eyes staring into yours were making you nervous, he was looking at you like he could see right through you.
"I uh.. well it's New Year's, I couldn't just stay cooped up in my room. Plus Nobara wanted me to hype her up for her kiss with Maki. She's been wanting to make a move for a while now." You said, pulling a half-truth from your brain. Truthfully, Nobara would've been fine without you, you just wanted to kiss Megumi.
"That's nice of you," Megumi responded, taking note of the way you fidgeted with your fingers. Before you could respond, someone yelled from the other side of the room "30 seconds till midnight!! Kiss it up!!" Their choice of words made you cringe, but it also made you hyperaware of how alone you and Fushiguro were right now. And now that the mention of kissing had been brought up, you were sweating.
"I came here because of you." Megumi blurted out suddenly, making your mouth open in a small O shape. The blue light did little to hide the dusting of blush on his cheeks. You quickly felt your own cheeks heat up at his confession, struggling to find the words to say. "How.. how so?" You asked, fearing to ask the direct question 'do you want to kiss me?' even as the time ticked quickly to midnight.
"I... Isn't it obvious?" He asked, clearly not wanting to say it himself. The sudden ten-second countdown made your heart beat out of your chest, you could feel every drop of blood racing through your veins the way your adrenaline spiked. "I want to hear you say it.. p-please." You asked, somehow still doubting yourself.
"Five! Four!" "I want to kiss you. Is that okay? Can I kiss you?" He asked, his words coming out rushed as his face scrunched in embarrassment at his own words. When you heard the others start to cheer, followed by "Happy New Year!" You decided to answer his question with an action. Standing on your tip toes you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his.
Megumi made a noise of surprise against your lips, his eyes going wide before they shut, following your lead as he reciprocated the kiss, pressing his lips to yours. Megumi felt his face heat up when he heard Itadori cheer a loud "GO MEGUMIU!!! THATS MY BOY!!" as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You pulled back from the kiss, the both of you breathing quietly against the other's lips. "Was that Itadori..." you whispered, trying to hold back your smile.
Megumi plopped his forehead down on your shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "Yup..." he whispered, his voice vibrating your skin, making you giggle. "Thats kinda cute." You said, running your hands through his soft hair. Megumi groaned into your neck, clearly disagreeing with your words before he pulled back, staring at your plush lips he just kissed with a pout.
"What?" You asked, smiling as you watched him oggle them. "I want to kiss you again." He said cutely. You placed your hands on his cheeks, bringing your lips together once more before you pulled away and whispered against his lips, "Kiss me all you want."
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#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#geto fluff#geto x you#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto smut#gojo smut#nanami smut#nanami x you#itadori yuuji fluff#itadori fluff#itadori x reader#jjk megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#megumi fluff#megumi x reader#toji smut#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x you#yuuji fluff#jjk yuuji#geto x reader#geto suguru
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On The Run
Pt 3
At some point, Soap and Gaz fall asleep on the couch, sprawled across one another. Ghost is laid back in one of the recliners, struggling to keep his eyes open as Priceâs voice lulls him to sleep from the kitchen.
You're not sure how long the two of you have sat here. It took Price an hour to finally open his mouth. He has hardly met your eye since heâs started talking, hands clasped together on top of the table.
The ache you felt in your chest for these men worsened the longer Price spoke. Proud military men, tired of seeing the monsters they hunted get slaps on the wrist for atrocious crimes. Making plea deals with lawyers, getting one way tickets into luxury cells when they should be six feet underground.
You donât realise Price has stopped talking till Soap snores, causing Dixon to shuffle at your feet, all four dogs scattered around the kitchen floor. You look him over, taking in the man now that all his bravado has been drained, leaving only the raw human underneath. Blue eyes darkened by years on the force and then years behind bars, forced into proximity with the very animals he and his team longed to put down. Youâre looking at a man who fought for what was right and when justice wasnât served in a way he deemed fit, he settled it.
Price is staring down at his hands, and youâre worried heâs going to hurt himself with how vigorously he rubs his hands together. You donât think, reaching across the table and grasping one of his hands in yours, running your thumb across scarred knuckles. âDonât do that.â You scold, and his head whips up to stare at you, eyes wide, hopeful but hesitant.
He looks down at your hand holding his, then back at you. âYouâre notâŠ?â He trails off, clearing his throat as he sits up straighter, letting your palm slip into his. Youâre not sure what word he was going to use, but you shake your head.
âIâm⊠Iâm sorry you all had toâŠâ You donât finish your sentence, letting it hang in the air between you. Youâre shocked to see tears pool at the corner of his eyes but heâs quick to blink them away.
âYouâre not horrified by us?â He asks, and you can tell heâs trying to fight his voice from shaking. You clear your throat, but gently squeeze his hand when his grip loosens.
âYou have done⊠horrible things. Inhumane things.â You start, trying to pick your words carefully as you scoot your chair closer to his. He watches you warily, but there is no denying the growing hope in those eyes. âBut I couldnât imagine seeing what you saw everyday. Hearing the things youâve heard, having to keep that all to yourself. Seeing⊠monsters youâve spent years tracking get served the minimum sentence with a cozy cell waiting for them.â His hand starts to shake, and your heart breaks seeing how hard heâs fighting back the tears pooling in his eyes. âWe never would have actually hurt you, I swear on my life. We just⊠Fuck we had been running for fucking hours through those god damn trees and-â His voice cracks, and you gently run your thumb over the back of his hand. âWhy are you being so nice?â He almost spits the word, but his grip on your hand tightens.
Grounding.
âYou did as I asked. You told me the truth.â You mirror his words from the barn, and he barks out a wet sounding laugh before covering his face with his free hand. âAnd youâre happy with that truth?â
âIâm happy you decided you could trust me enough with it.â You admit softly, and he stares into your eyes, and you donât feel the need to look away this time. âAnyone else would have gone running for the hills.â He whispers, and you canât help but smile.
âNot many places to run to, and if Iâm telling the honest truth, there are worse things than killing human filth.â You shrug, and he lets out a bewildered laugh. âYou canât mean-â
âI do though. There are people in this world that donât deserve the freedom they have, that have ripped apart the lives of others and continue living like they didnât single-handedly ruin someoneâs entire foundation.â Your words are a little more forceful than you intended, raw. And Price catches it, sitting up a little straighter, tugging your hand closer.
âYou have your own monster, donât you pretty?â He asks seriously, and you swallow, lowering your gaze to your clasped hands.
âI think thatâs a story for another night.â You whisper, and you see him nod, before realization hits, and his eyes widen.
âYouâre going to let us-â
âYou are going to have to show me that I am not making a mistake by letting four wanted men stay in my house.â You interrupt him, but thereâs a smile on your face. The next seconds are a blur and you suddenly find this giant of a man at your feet, kneeling in front of you and holding both your hands in his. His shoulders are shaking, head bent but you hear the hitch in his breath.
âPrice..â You murmur, a little nervous but you slip your hands free, slowly running your fingers through his hair, and you hear the sob that leaves him. He bunches up the loose fabric of your sweats in his fist, and you can feel his tears starting to soak through.
âYou are a good person.â He chokes out, looking up at you and the look on his face has tears of your own threatening to spill. He looks exhausted, like every ounce of his energy has finally been drained, years of enduring visceral human indecency ingrained into every part of his being. And yet he is gazing at you like you are the first glimpse of the sun after week long rainstorms, constant flooding and devastation, the light breaking through the clouds to spread warmth on a new day.
âYouâre still a good person too.â
Those words linger in the air.
You lose track of time as you sit there, running your fingers through his hair, this man who youâve never met, who invited himself into your home, but has bared the darkest corners of his soul to you all in one night. Grimes had made his way over at some point, staring at Price with a concerned tilt of his head. He never did like when you cried, and you can tell heâs desperate to try and comfort this strange man in his home. He lays besides him, paws outstretched, inching forward ever so slowly.
âHe doesnât like that youâre upset.â You mumble, watching the way his eyes snap over to Grimes. âEven though I terribly upset his mama earlier?â He mutters, he and Grimes staring at one another.
âGrimes has always been a big softy. Dixon is the one whoâs gonna hold a grudge.â An answering âboofâ comes from beside you, Dixon plopping his head back on his paws after making his stance known.
Grimes scoots forward until he can rest his big head on Priceâs lap, nuzzling down and looking up at him expectantly, and Price gives you a hesitant look. You just nod, smiling gently. âYouâre gonna be staying with four of them, better get yourselves acquainted.â
âWhat in the bloody fuck did I miss?â A drowsy voice mutters from the doorway, and Ghost stands there, taking in the sight of Price kneeling before you, still clutching your sweatpants, and you can see the downturn of his lips through his mask when he notices the dried tears on Priceâs cheek.
You gently pull Priceâs hands off your sweats, and he looks as though you just took away his favorite treat. âIâll go grab some fresh blankets.â You hum, face warming when you can feel both of their gazes on your back as you walk up the stairs.
âWait, does that mean-â You hear Ghost start, and youâre shocked to hear it so soft, but their words are lost as you turn down the hallway. You slip into the bedroom at the end of the hall, making quick work of dusting off the dresser and small TV, gently stacking a pile of clean sheets and towels. This room already had two beds, you just hoped they were big enough for these giant oafs.
You just about scream when a pair of hands grip your waist, and you whirl around. âPrice you have got to stop grabbing me now- Oh.â
It was Ghost, eyes unreadable as he stares you down, and you clear your throat, loosening your grasp just a bit but still attempting to push him off.
âYou scared me, you need to stop-â
âThank you.â He interrupts, and your eyes widen as he pulls you closer.
âI- Well youâre welcome, I couldnât just-â
âYes you could. You could send out right back outside, hell you could get a goddamn brigade of officers here and you would be justified for it.â He shrugs, but you frown, shaking your head.
âNo. From⊠from what Price told me, you all made your own choices to help those the governments deem lesser than them. You helped people who have watched law officials let them down again and again.â You state firmly, wincing slightly as you feel Ghost dig his fingers into your hips. âEasy.â You scold, and he immediately eases up, but doesnât let go of you, keeping you pressed to him and your heart skips.
âIâll just finish-â
âWhoever divorces such a sweet little bird must have absolute shit for brains.â Ghost states, quite confidently, and you canât stop the shocked giggle that slips past. âAbsolute fuckin idiot.â
âYou canât win me over with flattery you know.â You huff, but he sees right through you, dark eyes taking in your flustered expression, and you feel heat burn your cheeks as you avoid meeting his eye.
âMmm, weâll see about that. Think itâll get me pretty damn far.â He grins, and you smack his hands before pausing.
âWait.â You mutter, prying his right hand off of you and lifting it up, inspecting.
Your teeth made a pretty gnarly imprint, already scabbing. âAh donât worry about that. I deserved it.â
âCâmon you big idiot, before you let that thing get infected.â You order, pushing him towards the bathroom and he lets out a loud laugh, the sound causing butterflies to seize your stomach.
âYes maâam.â
#cod#call of duty#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#kyle gaz x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#tf 141 x reader#cod john price#cod gaz#cod ghost#cod soap
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BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BESTIE
what about a tired and very touch-starved jason wakes up at like 2pm and fem!reader is out of bed??? and he comes and finds them and throws them over his shoulder and brings them back to bed???? because why would you leave jaybean by himself????? unnacceptable???
THIS IS SO ADORABLE WHAT
And the idea of people waiting for my requests to be open is so weird like⊠what do you mean you wanna read my writings and hear my thoughts??? Yâall make me smile so much I swear
Side note: Iâm so sorry this is a month late. And then also another day late than I said I would post.
Side side note: if yâall saw me post this without the photo headerâŠ. No you didnât
M.I.A
Jason Todd x gn!Reader || Domestic Fluff || Word Count: 758
Warnings: not completely proofread. Gun mention.
Jasonâs pulled himself out of a bad dream. Not quite a nightmare, though something eerily close.
It was one of those rare nights that he had off of patrol. One he where the two of you got to eat dinner together, watch some TV, get ready for bed, then fall asleep in your shared bed. He enjoyed the chances when he got them.
He laid on his stomach under the comfortably heavy duvet. His left arm was bent beneath his pillow, his hand grazing the hidden .44 he had convinced you to let him keep there, the other arm laying in front of him. He kept his eyes closed, clinging to his last tendrils of sleep.
All he needed was you back in his arms and his dreams would turn good again, filled with the smell of your soap and hints of faded perfume.
Slowly, he stretches his right arm out across the sheets, sleepily searching for your form. It drags along the sheets, his entire body only half-asleep.
Heâs aware that thereâs this⊠itch in his skin. Not a physical itch. An itch that can only be satisfied by having your arms around him again.
Jason Todd doesnât count sheep. He counts your heart beats or your breathing. Sometimes both.
He must be laying further to the edge of his side of the bed than he thought. Usually, he doesnât have to reach this far to get to you when you two drift apart in your sleep.
His hand grazes the wall. His eyes shoot open.
You arenât in bed.
He pushes himself up with his elbows. A tired, confused, and slightly panicked frown settled on his face, his hair mussed up and flat on one side of his head.
The bedroom window is closed. The door is cracked open.
Then he notices the sound of the tap running in the kitchen.
Jason gets up and out of bed, moving languidly. He pads his way out of the bedroom and into the hallway.
His eyes squint at the light you had turned on as he stands in the doorway. All foggy panic he felt before faded away at the sight of you, filling a glass with water, standing in one of his shirts.
He shuffles his feet. A purposeful noise that he wouldnât otherwise make as he went about his day, one to get your attention.
You turn around, your glass of water in your hand. You take notice of your boyfriendâs large stature filling the entryway, a sleepy pout on his lips. You give him a smile. He can tell you're trying not to laugh at his fatigued state.
âWant a glass, too?â
Jason shakes his head. He makes his way across the kitchen, his brows still furrowed against the light.
He just wants you back in bed with him.
He reaches for your glass after you sip from it. You hand it to him. Jason takes the cold glass in his right hand, bends down a little, and wraps his left arm tight around the bottom of your bum. He stands back up, now with you draped over his shoulder.
You squeal out a fit of laughter, "Jay!"
He flicks off the light as he exits the kitchen, makes his way back into the hall, then kicks the door to your bedroom shut as he carries you in.
Gently, he sets you back down on the edge of the bed. Once you're properly seated, he hands your water back for you to finish. Seeing your bright smile makes his own lips tug into a small one.
Jason rakes his hands through his hair as you drink. He rubs his hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes from a moment, trying to shake a bit of the sleep still clinging to him.
You hand him back the nearly finished glass of water. He watches you shuffled back under the covers, moving over to the wall-side. Your side. He finishes off the last two gulps of your water and sets the glass on the night stand.
He follows you under the covers, immediately pulling you close. He presses a kiss to your cheek and drops his head into the crook of your neck, an arm draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. He kisses your shoulder and gently squeezes your waist once.
Your arms settle around him, "If you wanted cuddles you couldâve just asked, you know."
Jason only grumbles an incoherent response. He shuffles and presses closer to you, holding you tight.
You kiss his forehead and Jason starts to count.
Ahh!! I hope you like! This is lowkey rushed.
Also you can catch my personal headcanon of how Jason WILL keep his bed, with or without you in it, as far away from the window and door as possible. And you best believe that when you two share, you're getting the wall side so he can act as a barrier for any possible danger that may come in.
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd fic#dc#jason todd x fem!reader#red hood#jason todd x you#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x reader#red hood x you#cw gun mention#dc x reader#dc fic#jason todd x y/n#jason todd imagine#jason todd x male!reader#jason todd x gn!reader#missy writes
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smut prompt #8 for logan đđ
forty five minutes in the closet
a/n: not me literally writing this in right where you left me ch4. hilarious and iconic timing, because i was fighting the urge to just have them fuck full on in that closet. so here's my chance to do just that. for funsies i'm shoving it into that universe. do not look at me for using that gif. i literally can't deny myself the sight.
summary: an alternative scene to what really happened in that closet.
OR wade wilson forces logan to play seven minutes in heaven. (it was longer than seven minutes if we're being honest.)
word count: 2.6k+
pairing: logan howlett x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, exhibitionism, dirty talk, logan is filthy af and we love that, spit, fingering sort of, p in v sex, quickie, rough sex, biting, he's down bad for his honey what can i say, panty gag, a formal apology for how fucking horny and unhinged this is.
The closet felt smaller than intendedâeven as your back was pressed to the wall hard enough to feel the cracks in the drywall that stretched to the ceiling. Laughter filtered through the thin wooden door as Wade told yet another joke about shit you couldn't discern. Even if you asked him to explain, you'd still be confused come morning.
Logan leaned heavily against his side of the closet. Approximately two feet of space between you. The tips of your shoes touched his boots. The faint scent of cigar smoke still lingered from where he ripped it out and tossed it in an ashtray. You wouldn't have cared if he smoked in here. You might have asked for a puff.
He insisted on keeping the air clean in case you had to breathe.
Wade claimed you were playing seven minutes in heaven. Seven minutes of alone time with the man who made your head spin. In a proximity close enough to feel the heat of his body from where you stood. Although you'd been standing there for four minutes (you were keeping count via the watch on Logan's wrist) and the group seemed to have forgotten about the both of you entirely.
"Do youâumâknow what usually happens here?"
A smile curved on his lipsâeyes scrutinizing you with a look that told you he was teasing you. "Yeah. I do. I'm old, not stupid."
"I just wanted to make sure..." In a swift move you barely saw, he rose to his full height and crossed the invisible line holding the two of you on opposing sides. "Ohâ"
"Honey." His voice was low, yet you felt as if he was screaming in your ear.
"Yes?" you breathedâeyes fixed on the way his chest took up your space. His flannel was stretched across it and for a moment you wondered if you started salivating at the sight.
"Are you nervous?"
Another raucous round of laughs broke through the darkness that surrounded you. But you could barely hear them over the echo of your own heart. It hammered loudly against your chestâquickening the closer he got. The more his large frame began to engulf you in a warmth you only dreamed of. You clamored to come up with a response, to flippantly push off his advance with a tease of your own.
His hands pressing on either side of your head to the wall behind you killed every ounce of bravery you had left. All your worries and thoughts about what lay on the other side of that door were extinguished. Logan leaned down, his nose brushed yours, and inhaled deep enough to steal the breath from your lungs.
"I can smell you," he rumbled. "Sweet like honey."
A searing heat built beneath your skin, burning from your cheeks down to the tips of your toes. Your mouth openedâwords still fighting to be formedâbut he didn't need an answer. Not when he could smell the arousal that pooled between your thighs. How you subtly shifted to find a bit of friction in the hopes of something more.
"You mind if I kiss you bub?"
A piece of you fractured in the darkness of that closetâsettling comfortably in his own chest. You might ask for it back after all of this, but Logan felt his chances of you walking out as his were growing the longer this went on.
Glancing upâeyes wide and darkened with lustâyou bit back the whine that crawled up the back of your throat. "They'll hear us."
He shrugged, shifting close enough for you to almost taste the whiskey off his lips. "Good."
"Loganâ"
Lips pressed to your cheek, drawing a soft sigh from your parted mouth. "Somethin' tells me they're just waiting for it." His hand left the wall to trail along your waist, dipping slowly with a kiss to the corner of your lips. "And somethin' also tells me...you like that idea."
It's not as if you were entirely opposed to the idea. Actually most nights (if not every night) was spent with you imagining what it would be like to feel him this way. To be stretched with his cock so much you would feel a delicious burn.
You craved it.
He knew solely from the wanton look on your face. The way your eyes fluttered the further his hand went.
"You gonna let me in or what honey?" he cooed, fingers dipping beneath your skirt to seek out the slick that soaked the lace of your underwear.
Surely the seven minutes had run out, leaving the both of you to make a choice. Stay here and keep going for everyone to catch you. Or walk out, find a room, and continue this in private.
The thought of waiting a second longer snapped at your heels with an air of impatience you let consume you. What the fuck did it matter if they heard you getting fucked against the wall? What did it matter if you'd never live this down as long as you lived?
How could you actually think about shame when Logan's fingers were pressed against your dripping cunt, seeking out your clit through the thin fabric that divided you.
Sagging against the wall with a soft moan, you gripped his flannel in your fist and yanked his lips to yours. He groaned, falling into your body and effectively pinning you to the wall, as his tongue met yours. And suddenly you realized...you liked how whiskey tasted off of his tongue.
He devoured you with the kiss, swallowing each moan and stunted whine as his fingers made quick work of finding your clit. Rubbing quick circles, he plunged his tongue into your mouth - licking at your teeth with a fervor that seeped down into your stomach. It was messy. His spit mixed with yours, staining the skin of your cheek. Your slick coated the inside of your thighs as he pushed the fabric into you roughly.
Yet none of it felt enough to ease the ache that spread rapidly down to the tips of your fingers. Your heart twisted as he gripped the back of your neckâleading you in a kiss that divulged down to nothing but teeth and spit.
You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your leg hooking around his hip, in the hopes of dragging him closer. To feel the hard bulge against the rough denim of his jeans.
"Look at you," he mumbled against your cheek. "All pretty and leakin' for me."
A sharp burst of need pulled tight at your stomachâthe breath torn from your lungs. "Insideâ"
He smiled. "C'mon honey. Use that smart head of yours. Gimme some words."
His words were a brutal tease that scraped against your skin. Yet that coupled with his fingers that seemed to hold an edge of desperation, left you gasping for air. Fingers dug into his shirt, lips found his in the hollow darkness, and you begged for mercy. This was your penance. The altar he intended to bend you across.
Oh how you longed for him to follow through.
"Fuck me," you managed to get out between sharp intakes of breath and heady kisses. "Please Logan. It hurts.
The sound that emanated from deep in his chest could only be described as feral. You'd never heard him like that before. Bordering on the line of unhinged and sanity. A flare of want pulled at your body, echoing loudly in your chest.
You wanted to hear it again. To feel him break beneath your palms as he rutted into you with need. You ached to watch him whittle himself down to the barest of his senses. The animalistic urge of lust he kept hidden for weeks on end.
"Yeah?" His words were a snarl against your ear, teeth scraping your jaw as he ripped his hand away. "'M gonna make it better. Gonna take away the pain."
Nails scratched at the back of his neck when you heard his claws slide outâcutting through the fabric that clung to you. It was sopping wet; proof that you hadn't in fact been lying about your need. Logan felt his cock leak in his jeans at the sightâhow your slick clung to his fingers as he swiped along the gusset.
"All for me," he sighed.
"Uh-huh." If you thought you sounded needy before, that was nothing compared to this moment.
He eyed you briefly. The hazel you'd grown fond of now dark and clouded with lust. The plea for more lay on the tip of your tongueâready to be laved against his skin the longer he took. But then he brought the fabric to his mouth, his tongue running across it with a broken groan. The breath was punched from your lungsâlegs shaking as a wave of slick poured out of you.
"Oh fuckâ" you gasped, cupping his chin to catch his lips in a kiss.
The clink of his belt buckle echoed like a gunshot in the small space. Your heart began to race. Fingers shaking as you watched him tug his cock free; fisting the red and leaking tip with a throaty moan. Saliva filled your mouth at the mere thought of him sliding between your lips. The image of him feeding you his cock with a smile.
He fanned the flames of your simmering fire, offering you pleasure with ease.
His hand gripped your other leg, positioning it over his hip before pushing you up along the wall. The yelp was muffled by his lips; your hands finding purchase against his hot skin.
"Gotta be real quiet now bub," he mumbled, sliding his cock along your drenched cunt.
The head tapped against your clit once, twice. By the third time your teeth were dug into your bottom lip so hard copper burst on your tongue.
"I promise."
He chuckled, breathless. You joined.
The compact space stretched out before you, expanding with each joined breath and laugh. Passion intertwined in your chest, reaching for him with a tender touch of reverence. And nothing existed but the two of you.
"Hey Logan."
His cock jumped at the sound of your voice so light and airy. "Yeah honey?"
"If I don't tell you after this." Your hips canted into his, grinding towards where he positioned himself. "I had a really nice time tonight."
His heart fluttered as your words settled into his skinâsoaking up your warmth. "Me too."
The laughter diminished the second he pushed forward, sliding into you with a slickened thrust that left his body shuddering. You swallowed the sob that wrenched from your chest when he kept going. Stretching you until you felt the burn begin to seep into your body. You weren't prepared for how addicting it felt; how mindless he made you.
Seven minutes had surely blended into fifteen, giving the group no doubt of what you were doing. That only solidified when he bottomed out and you moaned so loud it nearly gave him a heart attack. His fingers clamored for something in his pocketâhis lips sliding against yours to silence the endless whimpers. He filled you until you saw white behind your eyes each time they fluttered closed.
"They're gonna hear ya," he muttered. You caught a flash of lace before it was being pressed to your lipsâwilling you to part them and hold the fabric between your teeth.
Logan gave you one minute to find your brain in the muddled thoughts that filled you, before pulling out. Only to slam back in. Your cry was muffledâeyes rolled backâand he felt a searing triumph begin to form in his chest. At the sight of you in a messy state of bliss.
His hips slapped against yours, the wet slide of your cunt a loud echo. Adding to the symphony of his groans and your whimpered sounds. Your spit soaked into the lace, fingers digging hard along the planes of his back, and he felt you gush at the feel of his teeth sinking into your neck.
"So fuckin' sweet for me," he grunted, cupping your ass to push you back and forth on his cock. A shift in the angle had you going dumb. Eyes wide and glazed with tears. "My pretty girl huh?"
Fuck you wanted to scream. You longed to hear his name bounce off the closet walls and spill into the foyer of Wade's damn apartment. To remind them that time was still passing and their limit had reached the vastness of infinity.
He pounded into you with sharp gasps of praise, words that fell on ears deafened by the rush of blood that ran right to your head. Oxygen felt secondary when his cock kissed the wall of your cunt with such accuracy it left you blinded. Enough to have you sobbing into the spit soaked lace - tears spilling down your cheeks.
"You take it like it was fuckin' made for you yeah?"
You nodded, breasts bouncing as he fucked you along his cockâhis other hand pressed to the wall. You took it like it was made for you, because it was made for you. Logan belonged to you. Whether he knew it now or not.
"I can feel you squeezin' me," he gasped. "Gonna cum?"
"Mhm," you mumbled, the squelch of your cunt loud enough to block out the laughter from the outside.
"Then do it honey." His thumb found your clit, swirling it with sharp pointed circles. Your toes curled in your shoesâhead falling back to the wall with a soft thud. "That's it. Fuckin' cum for me."
"Mmffâ" A sob of what morphed into his name tore from the depths of your body. Rendering you a shaky mess in his arms as you clamped down around his cock.
Slick poured out of you, coating the hair along the base of his stomach in your essence. Logan growled at the sight. His eyes narrowed and teeth bared with each stunted thrust of his hips into yours. Claws punctured the drywall behind you as a way to keep his body level. To ground himself as he came with a hoarse groan he quickly muffled into the top of your breast.
Grinding into you, he emptied himself entirely. Rope after rope of his spend now filling you to the point of dripping down to his balls.
You felt the need to drop to your knees and taste him.
To clean him entirely and place him neatly back in his jeans. But the movement of your body no longer remained an optionâyour legs numb and back sore from being pounded into the wall.
He removed the gag with a huff, kissing you gently with his thumbs pressed to the tops of your cheeks. A soft caress. A contract to the rough way he manhandled you.
"I can't feel my legs," you sighed into his mouth, tongue swiping along his bottom lip.
"You're not supposed to." The weak slap to his chest had him laughing louder than intended.
"Don't worry. Wade won't notice if you carry me."
He groaned, his teeth scraping at the flesh of your breast. "Don't fuckinâ say his name or I won't be able to fuck you again tonight."
You giggled, running your hands through his mussed hair. "Whiskey dick?"
"Shut upâ"
"He's told youâ"
Lips sealed over yours, hips pushing yours until the sigh stuttered from your chest. "Don't fuckin' start honey."
You smiled into the kiss. "Or you'll finish?"
A thump rammed against the door, startling the both of you. You half expected it to swing open and expose Logan with his jeans down to his knees and his softened cock still inside you. But all that came through was Wade's laughterâhis knuckles rapping on the wood.
"Did he rise babygirl?" he shouted much to the detriment of the group who booed behind him.
"I will cut you open through the door!" Logan snarled. A triumphant laugh rattled the walls as Logan lowered you to the ground. Only for Wade to get the last official word.
"HE ROSE!"
#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#my writing
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Bedsides and Breakfasts
Summary: After Azriel comes home battered and bruised, he refuses to eat the meal you've made him... Why?
Warnings: Angst, character injury, fluff
Author's note: For context, Y/n is Helion's bastard daughter. In an earlier draft of my other (very long) fic, The Shadowsinger and The Inkbird, this was going to be a scene that takes place after Azriel gets hurt during the Battle on the Lake where Y/n figures out Azriel is her mate. I wanted to finish it up and get it out there because I don't want to say goodbye to that story just yet and I wanted to get back into writing so.... here ya go!
The Townhouse sang quietly as it worked. Its melodies lay in the shifting curtains that shook off dust into the wind. Its lyrics in the whistling teakettle. You liked these sounds as you moved about the kitchen, preparing your tea and a crust of bread slathered with butter and jam.Â
When the Townhouse was empty, you didnât need to fear your power â there was no one around for you to touch and steal memories from. Mor had tried to drag you out to Ritaâs that evening â âRhys says youâve learned to keep your Clairvoyance at bay! Come dancing with us!â â but you couldnât muster the courage or the energy.
Besides, you were awaiting a certain Shadowsingerâs arrival.Â
âWonât you come back and make me your home? You whoâve stolen my heart as simple as a whisper, calm as a storm,â You hummed to yourself. You swore the Townhouse sighed in contentment. âDo you like my silly little songs then?â You mused.Â
The lights shone a little brighter, crackling the air with a flicker of energy.Â
You were singing about Azriel â of course you were â and blushing all the while. Heâd been the first to truly speak to you â the first to notice you â and the embrace youâd shared in Rhysandâs office had left you breathless for days. You could still feel the ghost of his breath against your neck as youâd buried your face in the hollow of his throat. The cracked leather beneath your fingers and the short hairs at the base of his skull youâd caressed as lovingly as any flower. It was the first time youâd ever been touched like that. Like you were something worth holding onto.Â
When he was gone, the Townhouse felt too empty. You felt too empty. Even now, the edges of your patience frayed like a worn shirt without him.Â
You spent the eveningâs hours combing through every book youâd managed to lug over from the Library. It was quick, but taxing work as every touch against the weathered binding allowed you to absorb its knowledge without you ever having to lay an eye on the page.Â
When the candle flickered dangerously close to your books and the dull throbbing behind your eyes had gone on for too long, you blew out the light and could do no more than curl up on the sofa before falling fast asleep.Â
The whispers of shadows woke you. You couldnât understand the words hidden within their overlapping voices, but their panic and relief were heavy in the air. You could almost taste their meaning on your tongue.
âY/n,â Azriel moaned. He leaned heavily against the open door, forcing it open against the drag of the carpet. His sword clattered to the ground before his knees. âY/n,â he called out again, more urgently this time. He prayed to the gods you were home. Heâd flown through the night, tattered wings struggling to keep him aloft, to make sure heâd see you again⊠just in case.
Blood and iron burned your nose and your sleep-swollen eyelids split open. âAzââ Your knee slammed against the coffee table in your struggle to escape the blankets. âAZ!âÂ
Azriel was always greedy for the sight of you, and that familiar tug in his chest tightened as you rounded the corner and sprinted towards him. You tripped where the hardwood ended and the carpet began, throwing his arm around your shoulder.Â
He smiled softly at you. Three months ago, youâd been too afraid to touch anyone. Now here you were half-supporting his weight as he staggered to his feet. He stole a few precious seconds to lean his head into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent. For a moment, he believed it would be enough to heal him.
âHow bad is it?âÂ
âThree arrows in the right wing, two in the left. Fae bane.âÂ
âAnywhere else?â You both stumbled down the hallway back from where youâd come.Â
âI may have been stabbed a few times.â He offered the piece of information casually, like he was complaining about the price of eggs.
âWhatâs a few?â Your eyes were wide as the moon. Searching, searching, searching for wounds.
âTen?âÂ
Your growl tore through the quiet of the night.Â
Your hands were slippery with blood, and Azriel almost slid out of your fingertips as you deposited him against the table. You flung your arms out over the hardwood tabletop sending bottles of ink, pens, and sheafs of papers clattering to the floor before rolling Azriel onto the top and forcing him to lay down.
Under the chandelier, Azriel looked ghastly. The warmth was drained from his skin and the hollows of his eyes and the fullness of his lips were tinged purple from cold. His eyes drifted apart from one another.
âI need you to stay awake.âÂ
âI will.â His words were slippery as soap on porcelain, syllables sliding into one another as he promised you he would be alright and that he had suffered worse before. Â
âStay awake!â You commanded him and his eyes sharpened ever so slightly on your figure as you tore through the cabinets in the corner.Â
Where is it? Where is it? Glass bottles clinked and tottered on rounded bottoms. There!Â
You snatched one of the pale green bottles lining the back wall and bit off the cork top with a grimace, spitting it out onto the floor. You could taste the medicine inside coat your teeth with an acrid film.Â
âHey, hey, hey.â You slapped Azrielâs cheeks to keep him awake. âDrink this.âÂ
Azrielâs lips parted immediately and he accepted every bitter drop you forced down his throat. It wasnât a cure, but it would help stabilize him long enough for help to arrive. In the time it took for you to call out to Rhys and light the candle that would wake Madja and call her to the Townhouse, Azrielâs cheeks had flushed with some more color.Â
The sight did little to ease your worries as you worked on unbuckling the straps of his armor. Piece by piece they fell away with a wet thud on the ground.Â
He grabbed your wrist before you could run in search of something to cut off the clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Elain had left gardening shears on the back porch. Perhaps the kitchen had scissors?
âStay.â He begged. âPlease stay.â
âRhys and Madja will be here soon. I just need to get something to help you.âÂ
âThen stay.â His grip turned desperate, short nails digging into your forearm. âStay and help me. Donât leave me.âÂ
Azriel might have smiled if he wasnât in so much pain. His hand slid up the curve of your arm to hold your neck, thumb tracing the line of your jaw.Â
âI wanted to see you just in case.â His chest rattled with the effort, âGods, I missed you.âÂ
Heâd been gone weeks on the Continent, scrounging after every whisper of Koscheiâs name as far as the eastern mountains. Heâd scavenged and raged. Killed and tortured. And heâd missed you all the while. It was what had possessed him to fly all the way to Velaris, when he would have been better off breaking into the Day Court and throwing himself at the mercy of Helion â your father.Â
You felt the tears prick at your eyes, angry and hot. âIf you say another fucking word like youâre about to die, I will kill you myself.â You were not prone to violence, and Azriel felt some pride that he could elicit such an emotion from you.Â
Luckily for you both, Azriel didnât get a chance to say anything else, and you didnât get a chance to murder him before Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Madja were bursting through the front door and following the blood-red trail to the dining room.Â
Azriel squeezed your hand once more. âStay with me.â
âWhere else would I go, Az?â You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand before the others crowded close.Â
You stayed at the head of the table, one hand always holding onto Azrielâs. He swallowed his pain, the faintest groans slipping from his lips as arrows were pulled out inch by bloody inch. It was no easy thing to endure, not even for Azriel. Wicked barbs lined the arrow shaft and caught onto the delicate membrane of his wings no matter how Madja twisted, pushed, and pulled.Â
One particularly harsh wrench had Azriel crying out, his nails digging into your arm and drawing blood.Â
âIâm sorry,â he gasped, feeling your skin break beneath his nails. His skin was tinged green now. A sickly sheen covered his face and fell over his eyes.Â
âItâs ok. Itâs ok. Just look at me.â You grasped the sides of his face. âLook at me.âÂ
Once again, Azriel was ready to listen to your commands. His eyes never left yours, not once, until the last of the faebane-tipped arrows dropped onto the table with a menacing ring of metal on wood.
Feyre closed his wounds as best she could, but the flesh inside would take longer to heal. For now all they could do was carefully wipe the blood from his body and carry him up to his bedroom.Â
You lingered by Azrielâs side long after he fell asleep, fingers twitching with nerves as you counted every slow and steady breath of his.Â
âY/n.â Feyre gently touched your arm. âHeâll be alright.â
You nodded, still watching Azriel sleep. Then, to your mortification, you burst into tears. Your clothes were drying stiff with sweat and blood â none of it yours â and the red handprints Azriel had left along your arms were turning to copper rust.Â
She shushed you, softly tugging at your arms.Â
âHe-He asked me to stay,â you said between gulps of air.Â
âHeâd want you to be clean and well-rested, Y/n. Donât let him wake up feeling guilty.âÂ
If it werenât for Feyre, you would have remained glued to the floor of Azrielâs room until you became one of the faces trapped in the wooden floors. You let her lead you across the hall to your own room where she filled the tub with warm water and soap.Â
âShit,â you mumbled. Your fingers shook so much you couldnât undo the buttons of your dress. Shadows, loose and long as stalks of grass, wound around your back, plucking the buttons undone without a word.Â
âHeâll be alright.â Feyre repeated this phrase many times as you scrubbed off the nightâs events and turned the water copper brown. The magic of the Townhouse whisked away the grime almost as quickly as it appeared until you sat in a sudsy bath, milky and clean.
âWhat happened to him, Fey?â
âFrom what Rhys and I can tell, Koschei had over a dozen archers lying in wait for when he returned to Prythian. Weâve already warned Helion.âÂ
You nodded. Your head felt heavy on your neck, like a doll with a snapped neck.Â
âHe nearly died.â Once the words were out in the open, fragile and pure, you broke down again, knees drawn up to your chest in the tub.Â
âBut he didnât.â Feyre smoothed back your dripping hair. âIt will take more than arrows and faebane for Death to steal him from us, Y/n.âÂ
Gods you hoped that was true, or else your heart might give out every time Azriel walked out the door.Â
You returned to his side the moment you were clothed, hair still dripping onto his gray bed sheets as you leaned forward from your chair and held his hand. He slept on his stomach, wings flared out and peppered with white gauze like a patchwork quilt. Beneath the drape of his blankets you knew more gauze covered his chest and stomach, dotted with blood like blooming roses.Â
You didnât know when you fell asleep, but you awoke to a deep ache in your back and a faint choir of voices in the air.Â
Shadows.Â
They kissed your cheeks, cool and soft, urging your eyelids open. Azriel was already awake and sitting up in bed with a grimace. One hand clutched his side and a leg hung over the edge of the bed, like he intended to stand. When he saw you, his hazel eyes widened. First in alarm. Then in guilt.Â
âAz?â Your voice felt crusted with smoke and sleep and you did what you could to straighten the crook in your neck and your spine from the odd position youâd fallen asleep in. ââYouâre not supposed to be sitting up.â Your bones cracked obnoxiously as you moved for the first time in hours, and the guilt in his gaze deepened.Â
You pressed lightly against his chest, feeling the gauze scratch your skin, but he did not budge.Â
âAz, you need to lay down. What were you even doing up?âÂ
Azrielâs eyes flickered off to the side. âI was⊠I was trying to move you to the bed.âÂ
You swallowed your yawn and blinked in disbelief. âAzriel, youâve just been shot and stabbed. You need to lay back down.âÂ
He grabbed your wrists, tugging you forward until you almost collapsed against his chest. âThereâs space on the bed. I want you to be comfortable.âÂ
âThe chair is fine, and you are hurt. Now, pleaseââ He did not move. No matter how you reasoned with him. No matter how you tried to shove him back beneath the covers.
âI will lay back down under one condition.âÂ
You frowned. He was much more stubborn when he was injured. âWhat condition?âÂ
âSleep on the bed. Thereâs plenty of room.âÂ
âAzââÂ
âPlease.â His hands slipped into yours, fingers pressing against the pulse of your wrists. âY/n, I will be comforted with you beside me.â He held up his finger before you could sleep. âAnd not in that gods-awful chair. Youâll wake up crooked.â
âIâm not a stalk in a storm,â you grumbled, because it only seemed appropriate that you should fight him on this. Otherwise, youâd have to admit that the thought of melting into his bed set off fireworks in your stomach, exciting and terrifying at the same time. Youâd also have to admit the scent of mountain air embedded in every inch of his room brought you comfort. You could lay your head on his pillows and sleep for an eternity.Â
I shouldnât be here. But you let him tug you closer to him. You slid your legs over his waist, calves catching on the waistband of his pants and dragging in a way that had your heart leaping into your stomach until you were safely on the other side of him.Â
Azrielâs bed was massive â over 12 feet across to better accommodate the span of his wings. You moved as far away from him as you could without eliciting offense and stared at the window.Â
Your muscles clenched as he shifted closer to you, wings rustling against the silk sheets and whispering as he got comfortable. Every time he so much as shifted, your back prickled, as though you had eyes there that shifted to soak up every inch of him.Â
Heâs hurt and Iâm taking up space andâ
He reached out his arm and his fingertips brushed against the curve of your back. You stiffened like youâd been struck by lightning. If Azriel were awake, he would have apologized and wrenched back his hand as if burned. But he was fast asleep and the touch was a natural movement he made in his dreams where he was imagining that you were closer to him. So close that he could breathe down your neck and feel you melt beneath his touch.Â
You didnât sleep, as much as the lull of his breathing threatened to sink you into sweet and comforting dreams. The sky was but a lighter shade of black when you were slipping out of bed with barely a whisper. Miraculously, Azriel did not awaken, and his shadows ghosted over the floors drowsily.
You were no stranger to dawn as you padded down to the kitchens. You hummed to yourself, cracking eggs over a well-greased skillet with onions, tomatoes, and peppers tossed in. They bobbed up and down in a sea of yellow like ducks on water. Potatoes browned to your right, their skins crackling and spitting grease as bacon popped and sizzled beside them.Â
You ate as you went, plating the final meal for Azriel, whoâif you knew anything about himâwould be waking shortly after the first rays of sunlight split his shadows in two.Â
You slipped back into his room as quietly as youâd left, and then nearly leapt out of your skin to find a dark mass of shadow covering the bed.Â
âYouâre awake,â you said blankly.Â
Azriel propped himself up onto his elbows, back rippling as he forced his stiff and swollen wounds to stretch until he could sit up in bed.Â
âWhere did you go?â There was but a faint slur to his words. âYou werenât here when I woke up.âÂ
âI was making breakfast.â You dragged over the ottoman from the foot of his bed as a makeshift table. âDid you brush your teeth already?â Not that it mattered. A sour mouth wouldnât keep him from a meal if he was hungry.Â
The flash of fear in his eyes was so subtle, so brief, that you missed it.Â
âIâm not hungry.âÂ
âWell that doesnât really matter. Madja said you should eat first thing. Oh!â You plucked a purple glass bottle from his bedside table. âAnd she said to drink this with a meal.â You pushed it into his hands, reluctant as they were to take the stoppered bottle from you.Â
âI canât imagine eating right now.â He said, shaking his head. His cheeks puffed out and he swallowed hard. âThe smell⊠itâs⊠I canât stomach it.âÂ
You frowned at that. He liked your cooking. It was only due to circumstance that you hadnât been able to cook for him in months.Â
âCan you please try?â you begged. âJust a bite.â
His skin turned pallid and the dark marks beneath his eyes stood out. He picked up a fork with a trembling hand, stuck it into a potato, then dropped it as if it burned. Suddenly, he regretted asking you to stay the night. Guilt ate away at his stomach, twisting it like spaghetti on a fork.Â
You sighed in dejection. âIâll bring it back downstairs.â You said. You began collecting the silverware from where youâd left them by his side.Â
âIâm sorry.â He murmured, catching your wrist in his hand.Â
You smiled softly. âTry and get some rest.âÂ
âWill you be back?â His words caught you by the door.Â
âYou wonât even realize I was gone.âÂ
He doubted that very much. Still, he settled back in bed, rolling onto his stomach to keep its rumbling at bay. He was quite hungry.Â
You closed the door behind you, carrying the untouched plate of eggs and potatoes. Cassian stopped his whistling as he made his way down the hall, a teasing smile playing at his lips until he caught sight of your dejected expression.Â
âWhatâs got our resident Librarian frowning? Did someone misplace a book in the House?âÂ
You didnât rise to Cassianâs jests. You cast a sullen glance back at Azrielâs door like it was personally responsible for everything, and shrugged. âHe hasnât eaten since heâs been back and Iâm starting to get worried. I read up on Illyrian anatomy weeks ago and he should be fine enough to eat by now.âÂ
Cassian leaned down, taking a careful sniff of the plate before grabbing hold of a butter and rosemary roasted potato and plucking it in his mouth. It was cold and the butter had hardened into a greasy slick, but it was still good. He told you as much as he walked with you back to the kitchens, stealing slivers of potato as he went.
âItâs nice to know my cookingâs not at fault.âÂ
Cassian jerked back in surprise and sudden understanding. âYou made him that?â
âYes. I know the House has its own will, but I like to cook. And it still feels strange having food just appear out of nowhere.â Â
Cassian fought with all his might to keep the cheeky grin from his face.Â
Poor Azriel, forced to go hungry because he was still too much of a sheepish fool to tell you about the mating bond let alone accept it.Â
He clicked his tongue. He loved his brother to the grave and back, but Azriel had a horrible habit of getting trapped in his own mind. Cassian had hoped you would help with that, given you suffered similarly.Â
âI wouldnât take it too personally. Azrielâs a picky eater. Always has been.â
That was a complete and utter lie. Growing up in the Illyrian war camps meant you either starved or ate whatever gray-brown mush you could get your hands on. Rhysand and Azriel had been quicker to move on from the rugged Illyrian lifestyle, and Rhysand especially had used his High Lord privileges to cultivate a refined and expensive taste, but if they were hungry and limited they didnât give two shits what went in their mouths.Â
âI didnât realize you could afford to be picky in a war camp,â You grumbled. You dropped the plateâs contents onto a skillet, patiently waiting for the House to light a toasty fire. There was no need to let good food go to waste.  Â
You thought over it, some minor irritation settling in that the Shadowinger had rejected the food youâd worked to make. It really didnât make sense that Azriel would be so particular about food. Or anything for that matter. Heâd always struck you as the practical, bare-bones sort, and you knew him well enough now to know that was true. His very job required it of him. But then again you couldnât remember the last time heâd accepted any food that youâd offer-
You froze. Oh. Oh.
The first night heâd visited your apartment in the Day Court, heâd refused your tea and cakes before leaving abruptly. Youâd agonized over that night for months, trying to figure out what you might have done to scare him off. But heâd been so kind and shy afterwards and then the whole matter of Koschei had arose and youâd never given it much thought because he just seemed so familiar and... Oh. OH-
âBASTARD!â You spat out in shock. The skillet dropped to the stove with a sharp cry that had Cassian blinking. Heâd never seen you like this. SoâŠagitated.
Had you always been this dull? A year ago you might have been able to blame it on your naĂŻvetĂ©, but you werenât so socially misinformed now and yet this was a bit much. And⊠oh you couldnât wrap your head around your own stupidity to even begin to think about a mating bond withâŠ
A mating bond with Azriel. You⊠you were his mate. He was yours. And you were his. And suddenly the pieces of it were falling into place so quickly you thought you might be crushed beneath the weight.Â
Mate.
Even the thought of the word crashed around your mind incessantly, like an anxious dog trying to settle down to sleep. Yet it all made such perfect sense. The way Azriel always found you when you were in danger or grieving. The awful days when Azriel had been away and youâd felt like a piece of your body had been severed. The way that the world felt right when he was beside you. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was just something born out of love, or maybe they were one and the same. It was impossible to tell but it didnât change anything.
Mate.
Cassian glanced sideways at you and said cautiously, âWeâre both bastards, Y/n. I donât think thatâs much of an insult coming from your mouth.â
Your eyes snapped to his, suddenly remembering that he was in the kitchen with you. You brandished a fork in your hand like a weapon, pointing the pronged end up at him like he was a piece of meat to be skewered. You were shorter than him, but the sharpness in your eyes made him pause.
âYou.â Such a simple word, yet it sounded so threatening. âYou knew didnât you?â
Was he sweating? The room felt warm.
âI donât know what-â You snatched his wrist and with your magic, you stole the information from him that you needed. It was as easy as plucking a flower from a field.Â
Fuck. Cassian groaned at the same time you did. You knew now. Not that you really needed confirmation from Cassian. Still. It was rather embarrassing to learn you were the last of⊠well everyone to know, even if it was your fault for not noticing the signs. In your defense you had been preoccupied with other mattersâŠ
âStupid, stupid, stupid.â You muttered, heating up the remaining food with a great deal of force before setting down a fresh tray, plate, utensils, and mug of tea on the countertop.
You keep muttering to yourself, your joy disguised by your embarrassment and no small amount of shock. Cassian watched nervously as you prepped the plate.Â
Youâd no sooner growled, âMove,â before Cassian leapt to the side and you set off out the door and down the hallway back to Azrielâs room.
She knows. One shadow whispered in his ear. Azriel felt his heart skyrocket and his stomach plunge to the cradle of his hip bones.Â
She seems⊠upset.
Upset was a mild word. You were alight with every emotion possible â fury, fear, anxiety, excitement, love â and Azriel struggled to tease them apart. It was like heâd been hit in the chest by a tangle of snakes, each a writhing, living, ever-changing thing. One moment you seemed nervous, the next angry.Â
âYou.â Your knuckles were pale as they gripped the tray. Sunlight molded to your form like a crown, and it became all the more apparent that you were Helionâs daughter â his bastard daughter, but daughter nevertheless.Â
He scrambled into a seated position just in time for you to drop the tray in his lap with a clatter that sent fork and knife skittering over the dish.
You looked down at the tray, then up at his eyes, wide and molten as amber. âYou didnât tell me.â You didnât need to elaborate any further.Â
âI didnât thinkââ
âYouâre right. You didnât.â You blinked, suddenly shy. âDid I not make it clear enough that I liked you? That I lovedâlove you? Or perhaps you donât⊠perhaps you donât want me.â That was a possibility you hadnât thought of in your excitement to see him again.Â
Oh gods, you hadnât thought of that possibility had you? Youâd just aggressively thrown food at him, expecting that he wouldâ
Azriel gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him again. Your cheeks were warm and painted with color.Â
âI always worried I was reading into actions that meant nothing to you. But, never think for a moment that I donât want you.â He smiled then, a shy, secret smile reserved for you. âIâve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.âÂ
Now your cheeks were burning, but Azriel did not mind feeling this kind of heat on his hands. He let go of your chin, twirling a fork with his fingers like it was a knife. It was one of his few nervous ticks whose knowledge was reserved for the people he trusted. For the people he loved.Â
âBeing with me will put you in more danger than you know.âÂ
âBut I expect it will bring me more happiness than I could have ever imagined.â You raised a hand up to his face, twisting away a stubborn curl of hair that fell over his forehead. âAnd you forget who my father is,â you reminded him. âMaybe it is I who will put you in danger.âÂ
âMaybe,â Azriel whispered. His breath fanned over your cheeks, soft and sweet.Â
You picked up the fork, lifting it up in between you.Â
âEat.â You commanded him.Â
Azriel smiled, plucking it from your fingers and stabbing a potato. He sighed. âI never could deny you anything, and I would never want to,â he said, before chewing carefully. Cautiously.Â
You blinked in surprise, instinctively taking a step away when you felt something new and warm begin to burn in your chest, like someone had taken a drop of the molten hazel in Azrielâs eyes and dropped it into your heart.Â
âOh.â You breathed.Â
âYes,â Azriel murmured, âAn unusual feeling, I know.â He placed the tray beside him and heâd no sooner opened his arms before youâd buried your face in the crook of his neck. You wanted more of that warmth in your chest. You wanted to slip into Azriel's skin as close as possible to his beating heart. To feel the mating bond wrap around you both like a curtain to block out the rest of the world.Â
Azriel groaned in pain, but would not let you leave his embrace. No pain had ever been worth so much.Â
You forced him to finish eating, even though all he wanted was the taste of you on his lips. âLater,â you promised him. When he was healed and whole there would be more breathless kisses and urgent touches, but for now he had to content himself with eating his meal and drinking his draught. But he would not be denied the press of your skin against his as you slipped beneath the covers and curled up beside him. This time, you fell asleep quickly and your dreams came over you like water.Â
#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x you#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader angst#the shadowsinger and the inkbird
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only you (f.h.) (drabble)
Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Wife!Reader
A/N: The last month was pretty busy so I couldn't write much but I had a cute lil thought about this while I was on the bus cuz of all the Five tiktoks on my fyp
"Honestly Five, your head isn't screwed on straight! No one in their right mind would put themselves at this much risk over and over again!" You shouted, voice almost hoarse and mouth dry as you continued to berate him, as you had since you arrived almost twenty minutes ago.
Your husband continued to ignore you, not even bothering to justify his reckless mission anymore and you continued to shout, waving your hands around in your helplessness and frustration.
Five Hargeeves was a great man but the one thing you absolutely detested about him was how he decided he had to do everything on his own. You were his partner, both in the commission and in his life, but he refused to trust you with his own matters.
To a certain degree, you could understand him. He was so anxious about saving his family, so tormented by their deaths hanging over him that he felt that unless he oversaw every single detail, it would all fall apart.
But just because you understood, didn't mean you appreciated your husband putting himself in harm's way when you could've helped him.
"Are you even listening to me?! Five! Your wife is here yelling at you, and you don't even have the decency to look her in the eye?!"
He didn't reply and you were stuck staring at his broad, blazer-clad shoulders.
Then he shifted, taking a deep breath and you heard the shaky breath he let out.
"Five?"
He finally turned, eyes glistening, cheeks wet and lip quivering and you felt so heartbroken at the sight of him that you felt your own tears prick at your eyes. You immediately closed the gap between you, "Oh, sweetheart."
You sat him down in the armchair, perching on his lap and letting him hide his face into your neck, peppering kisses to the crown of his head as he took some time to compose himself.
"I'm justâso tired." His voice cracked and you felt like your heart did as well, pulling away from him just enough so you could kiss his tears away.
"Shh, it's okay." You whispered, gently running your thumbs over the peak of his cheekbones. His hands were gripping your waist with the strength of a vice, nails digging into the flesh of your hips.
"What do you need, Five? Just give me the word and I'll make it happen." You told him, now more determined than anything to shoulder the pain he was feeling, "I would move the heavens and the earth to make you happy, my love. Tell me what you need."
He slumped over in defeat, pressing his forehead to yours, "You. Only you."
You sighed, now running your fingers through his hair. A part of you was disappointed that he was still unable to open up, another was unsurprised.
"Silly request. I'm already all yours."
Taglist under cut
Forever Taglist:
@simonsbluee
@haniscrying
@superheroesaremyjam113263
@writers-whirlwind
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@tchatso
@ateliefloresdaprimavera
#five hargreeves#five x reader#umbrella academy five#five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves x you#five x you#five x y/n#the umbrella academy#tua#tua five#tua x reader#tua five x reader#reader insert#Female reader#five hargreeves oneshot#five hargreeves imagine#five hargreeves x y/n#five hargreeves fanfiction#five hargreeves edit#five hargreeves drabble
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safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]
synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.
word count: 5.4k
contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey
a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333
this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here
. . .
Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonightâthe date sheâd been looking forward to all week.
This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simpleâstrolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.
Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didnât matterâsheâd have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.
She opened Harryâs contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.
Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.
Suddenly, the call connected, and Harryâs voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. âBambi? Was jusâ about to pick yâ up. You missinâ me already?â
Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. âHarryâŠâ Her voice cracked.
âHey, whatâs wrong, love?â Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.
âI-I canât go on our date tonight,â she confessed, her voice shaky.
âWhat dâyou mean? Donât be silly, is something wrong?â His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.
âNo, itâs not like that. Itâs just⊠my mom came home late, and sheâs, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. Iâm really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if youâre mad orâif you never want to see me againââ
âWoah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickinâ. I donât hate you, not at all. Itâs closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? âM not goinâ anywhere.â
âOkay,â she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. âYâpromise?â
âFive pinkie swears, baby,â he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. âItâs alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have yâeaten today?â
His kindness made her heart swell. âN-No, but weâve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?â
âBambi, Iâm already on my way to your house.â
Her breath hitched. âWhat? But, Harry, I canâtââ
âYou think Iâd let a little change of plans stop me from seeinâ you? Been needinâ to see mâBambi all day. How âbout this: you help your mum, and Iâll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?â
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?
âHarry, you donât have toââ
âI want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and Iâll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?â
âYeah,â she said, her voice lighter now. âThat sounds perfect.â
âAlright, Iâll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.â
Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that sheâd normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe.Â
. . .Â
Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harryâs voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother.Â
âI know jujitsu, you know,â Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.
âYou take classes?â Harry asked, bemused.
âNo, I learned it on Roblox,â Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
âOh, I donât think Iâve heard of that one before. Youâll have to show me sometime,â Harry said with a grin.
Archie snorted. âYou could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.â
Y/Nâs face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harryâs eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. âY/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,â Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.
âArchie,â Y/N gasped, âthis is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.â
Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archieâs face. âWhoâs Harry?â
Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldnât exactly explain that to her little brother. âHeâs... my special friend.â
Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/Nâs shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.
âH-Harry, Iâm really sorryââ she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.
âBambi,â he murmured with a soft sigh, âI missed you.â
She smiled against his chest. âYou just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.â
Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. âKiss?â
Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm.Â
âHave you eaten yet?â he murmured against her lips. âI brought pizza.â
âYou didnât have to,â Y/N sighed softly. âI was just going to throw something in the oven.â
âHey, Bambi.â She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. âI wanted to. Iâm here to help, okay? Now, why donât we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and Iâll set the table.â
âO-Oh, okay.â She nodded, a bit flustered. âJust so you know, my brothers can be⊠intense.â
Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. âItâs okay, Iâve got a niece. Iâm sure theyâll be fine.â
Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.
âWho are you?â a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.
âThatâs Y/Nâs special friend,â Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.
âWerenât you the guy making out with my sister the other night?â The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.
Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. âWell, I guess thatâs one way to put it.â
âSammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.â Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said.Â
âJack, can you grab an extra chair?â Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sisterâs instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chestâpart of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didnât know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him theyâd had to adapt quickly.
They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.
âCalm down,â he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. âYâ so stiff, Bambi.â
Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. âSorry, I just get soââ
âSo?â Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. âSo what, baby?â
âSo nervous,â Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.
A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the coupleâs banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.
âHow old are you?â Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.
Y/N choked on her drink. âSammy! You canât just ask people thatâitâs rude!â
Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. âNo, itâs alright,â he said, amused. âIâm thirty.â
âWhoa, youâre old!â Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.
âArchie!â Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.
âI guess it is kind of old,â Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.
âAre you rich?â Sammy pressed, undeterred.
Y/Nâs face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
âI do well,â Harry replied, keeping his tone light. âI own a fashion company.â
âThat means heâs rich,â Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. âDo you have a sports car?â
Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, âI own three.â
Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. âNo wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!â
âIf you think thatâs cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,â Harry teased.
âCandy?â Archieâs eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.
âBetter.â
âIce cream?â
Harry nodded. âIce cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.â
Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner werenât a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.
Harryâs smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. âWhat do you want from my sister?â Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.
Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before sheâd even taken a bite.
Harryâs hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.
âItâs still early,â Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammyâs without faltering. âBut I really, really like your sister.â
Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. âYouâre not allowed to like her as much as we do.â
Y/Nâs heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.
Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. âI wouldnât dream of it.â
. . .
"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes theyâd made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.
"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"
Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game theyâd been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.
Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark youâre taking us to," Archie said eagerly.
Harryâs eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard thereâs a certain someoneâs birthday coming up soon."
Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebrationâmovies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/Nâs smile faded slightly.
Harry noticed the shift immediately. "Whatâs wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"
"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didnât do anything wrong. Itâs just... Archie's birthday isnât for another month."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"
Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just donât want to make promises, you know, in case⊠I mean, what ifâŠ" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldnât help worrying about the futureâthe uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.
"Bambi," Harryâs voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Whereâd you go?"
She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Yâ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else âcause you're thinkinâ too much."
"I do that?" she asked, surprised.
"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."
"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.
"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothersâtheyâre a credit to you."
Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my momâ"
"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."
Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadnât expected that. She hadnât realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.
She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.
That is, until Sammyâs voice rang out from the hallway. "Iâm coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"
Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, weâre behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.
Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words heâd spoken earlier echoed in her mindâwords that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.
. . .
Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm sheâd set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harryâs employment. She was excited, of course, but that didnât stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.
She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.
Harry: Morning, Bambi đ Thereâs a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? Iâll be waiting for you at the office. Youâre gonna be amazing x
A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harryâs words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldnât help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.
She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.
Y/N: Thank you. Iâm a little nervous but Iâll do my best. See you soon đ
Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said âprofessional but approachable,â taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the timeâ6:45 a.m.âthe car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.
She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldnât help but feel like the only person awake in the world.
Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.
âThatâs me,â she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.
You can do this. Youâre ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.
Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.
Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x
Bambi: Isnât that my job today? x
Harry: Itâs my job to take care of you everyday
Y/N didnât realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage.Â
Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide awayâbut then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.
Sheâd seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeableâuntil he looked her way, and his whole form softened.
âYouâre here,â His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.
She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, âGood morning, Mr Styles.â
The corner of Harryâs lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. âGood morning,â he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. âReady for today?â
âY-yes,â She said but it wasnât all that convincing.
Harry grabbed her hand, âYouâll be just fine Bambi.â He murmured the nickname just for her to hear.Â
The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/Nâs nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.
As they stepped into the elevator, Harryâs thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since sheâd last seen him.
When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.
Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/Nâs hand as he greeted her.
âLindsey, this is Y/N,â he said, glancing between them. âSheâs starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.â
Lindsey extended her hand warmly. âOh is this-â
Harryâs gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.
âY/N! Itâs so nice to meet you.â She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. âI have to admit, Iâm a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistantâhe can be a real pain most days.â She shot him a playful look. âBut donât worry, just donât enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.âÂ
Y/N giggled and Harryâs eyes brightened at the sound, ââY/N,â he said, his voice warm, âyouâre in very good hands.â He turned to Lindsey. âMake sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but donât overwhelm her.â
Lindsey chuckled. âIâll keep it light for today, boss. Weâd be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.â
Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, âIâll see you later, then.â His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasnât the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good.Â
âAlright, letâs get started,â Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harryâs office. âFirst things firstâcoffee? Iâll show you the best spot, and then weâll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.âÂ
. . .
Y/N liked Lindsey a lot.Â
She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistakeâlike earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and whiteâLindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasnât used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.
Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, sheâd explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.
Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.
âOkay, Harryâs in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,â Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.
She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. âHeâs particular about the temperatureâhot but not scalding,â Lindsey explained with a wink. âDonât worry youâll get the hang of things.â
Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.
âYouâll be fine,â Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. âJust go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. Youâll be a natural at this in no time.â
âIâm going in alone?â Y/Nâs eyes widened.
âItâs good practice,â Lindsey grins, âGood luck!â
Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harryâs eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.
As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.
In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.
ââWatch where youâre going!â he barked, rising from his seat. âDo you even know how to serve properly?â
Y/Nâs heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.
âDo you think itâs okay to talk to a woman like that?â Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.
âShe stained my shirt! Sheâs lucky Iâm not making her pay for it,â the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew heâd crossed a line.
Harryâs eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. âY/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?â
Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.
Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harryâs signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. âYour final checkâenough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.â
âFinal?â Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.
âCorrect,â Harry replied nonchalantly.
Mr. Smithâs face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. âMeeting adjourned,â Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.
Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.
Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. âAre you okay?â Harry asked, concern etched on his face.
She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. âI feel like I canât do anything right,â she admitted, her voice muffled.
Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. âYou did nothing wrong.â
âYou canât fire people because of me, Harry.â
âDonât worry about him. Weâve wanted to get rid of him for agesâjust a sexist prick. Turns out youâre a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,â he chuckled lightly.
Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. âThese eyes,â he whispered.
A smile broke through her sadness. âIâm sorry for ruining your meeting.â
âDonât care, Bambi.â He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. âYou actually made it better.â
âI did?â she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.
âMhm,â he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harryâs lips brushed against hers.Â
âOkay, what the hell happened?â Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.
âWow, Lindsey,â Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. âTry knocking next time, yeah?â
âSince when have I ever needed to knock?â Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.
âSince now,â Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, âIf youâll excuse meâŠâ He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.
A laugh escaped Y/Nâs lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time sheâd witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. âSo, are you two likeâŠ?â
âNo,â Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.
Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. âMight want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,â she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.
. . .
Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. âBambi,â He slurred against her lips.â
âHm?â She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer.Â
âI was thinking,â He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, âMaybe this weekend yâ could come to my place and stay the night.â
âThe night?â Sheâd never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house.Â
âYeah⊠Would you be okay with that?âÂ
âY-Yeah, I think so.â
âYâ think so?â Harry grinned, âAre yâ sure?â
She smiled, âIâd like that.â
âWell, alright then,â he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. âGoodnight, Bambi.â
âGoodnight, Harry.â Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.
Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.
Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing
Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!
Harry: Canât help it BambiÂ
Harry: Iâm obsessed with you
. . .
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mine to keep | p.sh
req ( anon ) : sex with drunk jealous sunghoon
pairings - sunghoon x fem!reader
genre - established relationship, dom!sunghoon x sub!reader, smut (MDNI)
warnings - lower case intended, spanking, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), manhandling, jelly jelly sunghoon, begging, ripping panties, orgasm denial, begging, degrading, sweet nicknames
1,531 wc !
( requests r still open ! ) - creds to my bae @cherubunie for beta reading this masterlist
the party was in full swing, the pulsating beats of the music filling the air as bodies moved and swayed on the crowded dance floor. sunghoon and y/n, both in a drunken haze, found themselves lost in the rhythm, their bodies moving as one. the alcohol had loosened their inhibitions, allowing them to let go of their usual shyness and embrace the wild energy of the night.
y/n felt a buzz of excitement as sunghoonâs tall and muscular chest pressed against her back, his strong hands resting on her hips. they danced closely, their bodies grinding in perfect harmony, the heat between them intensifying with each passing moment.
as the song reached its climax, sunghoon felt a wave of thirst wash over him. he leaned close to y/n's ear, his breath warm against her skin. "i'm gonna grab a drink. be right back," his voice slightly slurred. y/n lost in the moment, barely registered his words. she nodded, her eyes half-closed, and continued to move sensually, unaware of the brewing storm that was about to disrupt their night.
sunghoon made his way through the sea of dancing bodies, his focus solely on quenching his thirst. he reached the makeshift bar, grabbed a red solo cup, and filled it with a strong, amber-colored liquor.
as he raised the cup to his lips, he couldn't help but glance back at the dance floor, searching for y/n's familiar figure.
that's when he saw it. his heart sank as he witnessed y/n, his y/n, grinding provocatively against a stranger. the unknown man's hands were roaming freely over her body, and she seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. sunghoon's blood boiled with jealousy and anger. he squeezed the cup in his hand, the plastic cracking under the pressure, and threw it across the room, not caring where it landed.
without a moment's hesitation, he pushed his way back to the dance floor, his eyes fixed on y/n. he grabbed her by the wrists, his grip firm and demanding. "come with me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. y/n, startled by his sudden aggression, snapped out of her drunken trance.
"sunghoon? what's wrong?" she asked, her words slightly slurred, her eyes wide with confusion.
"you know what you did," he snarled, his jaw clenched. "let's go upstairs."
y/n's heart raced as sunghoon dragged her away from the dance floor, his strong hand never leaving her wrist. she felt a mixture of excitement and fear as they climbed the stairs, the music and laughter from the party fading into the background.
sunghoon pushed open the door to an empty bedroom, the dim light from the hallway casting shadows across the room.
with a rough tug, sunghoon pulled y/n towards him, his lips crushing against hers in a hungry kiss. she tasted the liquor on his tongue, the sharp flavor mixing with her own desire. his hands tangled in her hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss, demanding a response from her.
breaking away, sunghoon glared down at her, his dark eyes burning with intensity.
"you little slut," he whispered, his voice laced with anger and desire. "grinding on some random guy's crotch. did you enjoy it?"
y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal. "i-i thought it was you," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "i'm sorry, I was just..."
"shut up," sunghoon interrupted, his hand moving to the small of her back, pushing her down onto the bed. "get on all fours, right now."
y/n's heart was pounding as she obeyed, her mind racing with confusion and excitement. she positioned herself on the soft mattress, her knees sinking into the plush fabric, her hands resting on the bedspread. sunghoon stood behind her, his broad shoulders blocking out the light, making her feel small and vulnerable.
"you're going to apologize," he said, his voice low and commanding. "you're going to beg for my forgiveness for being such a dirty girl."
y/n's breath caught in her throat as she felt his large hand land on her bare thigh, his touch searing through the thin fabric of her dress. "i-i'm sorry," she whispered, her voice shaking. "please forgive me."
"not good enough," he growled, and with that, he delivered a sharp smack to her exposed bottom. y/n gasped, her body jerking forward at the unexpected sting.
"don't move," he ordered, his voice hoarse with desire. "just stay still and take your punishment."
y/n bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to control her body's natural instinct to squirm. sunghoon's hand landed on her other cheek, the sound of his palm meeting flesh filling the room. "apologize again," he demanded, his voice rough.
"iâm sorry hoon," she pleaded, her voice barely audible. "please I didn't mean to..."
"shh," he hushed her, his free hand reaching forward to grip her hip, holding her firmly in place. "just feel it, every stroke of my hand on your beautiful ass."
sunghoon's fingers dug into her soft flesh, his touch firm and possessive. he spanked her again, slower this time, savoring the way her skin reddened under his hand. y/n's breath came in short gasps, her body trembling as she fought to remain still, her arousal building with each smack.
"that's it baby," he whispered, his voice now laced with a mixture of anger and tenderness. "you like this don't you? being treated like the whore you are."
y/n couldn't deny the pleasure coursing through her veins, the combination of pain and pleasure pushing her closer to the edge. "yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "please hoon..."
"please what?" he asked, his hand pausing in mid-air, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air.
"please..." y/n's voice trailed off, her cheeks burning as she struggled to articulate her desires.
sunghoon's large hands moved to her shoulders, pushing her down further into the bed, his body hovering over hers. "tell me what you want y/n," he demanded, his breath hot on her neck. "i want to hear you say it."
y/n's mind raced, her body trembling beneath his. she knew what she wanted, what she had always craved, but saying it out loud was a different matter. sunghoon's hand traveled up her back, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin beneath her dress, making her shiver.
"i want..." she began, her voice shaking. "i want you to touch me. please touch me everywhere."
sunghoon's response was immediate. his hands moved to the hem of her dress, slowly pulling it up, revealing her smooth, creamy thighs. "like this?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
"yes," y/n breathed, her eyes closing as she felt his fingers trail along the inside of her thighs, inching closer to the heat between her legs.
with a swift motion, sunghoon tore her panties off, leaving her completely exposed to his gaze. he admired her for a moment, taking in the sight of her glistening pussy, her lips already swollen with desire. "you're so wet, princess," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "i can smell how much you want me."
y/n let out a soft moan as sunghoon's fingers finally made contact with her sensitive clit, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through her body in ripples. he teased her gently, circling her throbbing bud, making her squirm beneath him.
"i-i need more, please more-" she begged, her hips arching off the bed in desperate search of more friction he pleases her gentle body with.
sunghoon chuckled, the sound filled with satisfaction. "be patient slut," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of dominance and affection. "youâll be grateful for whatever I give you."
with that, he lowered his head, his tongue tracing a path along her inner thigh, making her shiver with anticipation. y/n's breath caught in her throat as his warm breath caressed her sensitive skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
he reached her wet center, his tongue parting her folds, and he lapped at her juices, savoring her taste. y/n's hands clenched the bedsheets as his tongue swirled around her clit, his mouth sucking gently, driving her wild with pleasure.
"ahh sunghoon," she cried out, her body bucking against his mouth, her orgasm building with each flick of his tongue. "i'm going to cum!"
sunghoon's response was to increase the pressure, his tongue working her clit relentlessly, his fingers plunging into her wetness, seeking her deepest spots. y/n's body convulsed, her cries filling the room as sunghoon lifted his head to deny her orgasm, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.
he wiped her wetness from his lips, his gaze fixed on her flushed face. sunghoon showed her the soaked panties, holding them up for her to see. "i'm keeping these as a reminder," he said, his voice filled with possessiveness. "a reminder of what happens when you tease me."
with a wink, he tucked the panties back into his pocket and leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. "now, let's get back to the party.â
sunghoonâs pretty girls like/comment/reblog!
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