#we know pat's been used by his past lovers
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Just a sketch that I was too tired to finish... And since it's Father's Day I'm just gonna dump a bunch of my more silly (mostly) headcanons about their dynamic below, teehee.
General - They argue. A lot. About anything. Jason is the instigator. Harvey is almost always correct. - There has been a karaoke battle at some point. - They smoke far too much and smoke breaks are common occurrences during anti-hero outings. They are no longer mere breaks; they are rituals. - One of the only things they are comfortable openly bonding over is their alleged hatred of Bruce - and weapons. - Actually work very well together in combat. Jason's accurate, hard-hitting martial arts expertise and agility compliment Harvey's more elegant and violent approach. Gotham's scumbags are cooked. - They were both slain by Gotham, and reborn. They are now both living their second life - neither want to admit to each other that they find comfort that they're not alone in this. - They will take any opportunity to bring up each other's past interactions; the two-toned car, the two-story building fiasco, the kidnapping, anything. - Jason's biological father is the root cause of their most explosive, brutal fights. Both of them, however, are exhausted and have other shit to worry about, so they avoid this topic as best as they can.
Jason's POV - Teases Harvey about twos, duality and doubles to distract from the horrors. - When angry, will call Harvey 'Apollo' to piss him off. Sometimes it's 'Ex-District Attorney', with emphasis on the 'Ex'. - He doesn't like it very much when Harvey attempts to get close/connect with him; relationships are transactional. At least that's how Jason views them. - Hates being passenger in Harvey's car because he doesn't get any say over the radio. - He does view Harvey as a parental figure, or something like it, but he's conflicted. - Actually appreciates it when Harvey helps him through PTSD episodes. - Sadly, he isn't very good at helping Harvey through dissociation/depressive episodes yet. He sort of stands there like the man emoji. - Will randomly come out with courtroom related lines when Harvey does something bad, like: "Your honour, my client would like to plead Gemini," or "Your honour, in my client's defence, he didn't know the safety lock was off." - Makes jokes about Harvey's thugs all wanting to have 'a night' with Harvey. - Absolutely refuses to call Harvey "dad", even jokingly. He will have sightseen everything in Hell before that happens. - But at the same time he cries out for a father figure, one that is proud of him, that loves him. He secretly loves it when Harvey pats his shoulder or gives an approving nod.
Harvey's POV - Will make jokes about Jason being alive again to distract from the horrors. - When angry, calls Jason 'Robin' or 'Pup' (name of a baby bat) to piss him off. - Tries to bond with Jason - he *wants* to - but he's a big dumbass about it. - Does not understand Jason's music taste and doesn't have any desire to. - Views Jason as the child he never had the chance to have. In a sense, that makes him quite protective of Jason, but he hides this. He tries desperately not to be like his own father. - Is quite good at understanding Jason's emotions; he knows how to deal with his attacks and does, begrudgingly, use tips he learned from his previous therapists. - Doesn't wish to burden Jason with his own episodes. Unfortunately it's not always possible to hide them. - Just as Jason tortures him with puns, Harvey will do it right back. He'll come out with things like, "We only put up with you because you were the SECOND Robin," or "How would you like to die a second time?" - He will stand and stare awkwardly when Jason brings (sneaks) lovers back to the hideout. But he minds his business. - May have accidentally called Jason his son a few times. Or his "kid". But not to Jason directly, only in his talks between himself and Two-Face. - He likes seeing Jason happy. So many kids and young people are let down by Gotham's corruption and he'll be damned if Jason becomes a victim of it (again).
#Obviously I have way more complex stuff to say but it's late and I wanted to keep things relatively lighthearted so yeah. <3#long post#tw: smoking#tw: mental health#harvey dent#jason todd#two-dads au#headcanons#dc comics#sketches#rambles#reginalususart
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NIGHTMARES
MASTERLIST
Pairing: Zuko x Female Reader.
Words: 2.224
Summary: Y/N and Zuko had been friends since they were kids, back at the Fire Nation. Her father was a great General and friend with Fire Lord Ozai. Y/N had been there for Zuko when he got the scar, but couldn’t accompany him in his exile. After almost two years, they found each other again and this time, she joins him in his hunt for the Avatar. There is just a small problem: Y/N had a crush on Zuko since they were 7.
Warning/Content: smut, nightmares, friends to lovers.
A/N: Zuko and reader are both 18.
Y/N was looking out for Zuko when she found him sitting next to a fireplace in his room, as he stares at the fire with an angry and tired expression. She entered his room, walking close to him “Are you okay?”
Zuko’s eyes widen slightly as he turns his head to look at her, before he got back to his angry expression “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Y/N sighs and sits by his side “Because I know you. Do you want to talk about it?”
A muscle tenses in his jaw, hinting at the struggle he’s having to keep his anger in check “No, I don’t want to talk about it!” His voices booms, causing the flames to flare up in response “Leave me alone!”
“Okay...” Y/N says softly, but didn’t make any move to go away.
Zuko turns his head away, staring fixedly at the fire again. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down before speaking in a slightly more controlled tone “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. It’s just...”
She looks at his scar and sighs “That nightmare again?”
He nods, his jaw clenching as he relives the memory “Yes. It seems to be getting worse instead of better. I thought I had put behind me...”
“It’s okay, Zuko.” Her hand tries to reach his face and his scar, but he flinches slight before she could touch him, his eyes darting towards her hand before looking away “Don’t...please.”
She drops her hand back to her lap “I’m sorry.”
He takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax “It’s not...I just...don’t like being touched, especially there.”
Y/N nods at him “I know...But you used to let me hug you all the time when we were kids.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of Zuko’s lips as he remembers those times. He turns to face her, his eyes softening slightly “Yes, I did. Things were different then.”
“Yeah, it was.” She smiles before looking at the fire. Zuko did the same.
His thoughts drifting back to his past “We were so carefree back then, weren’t we?”
She chuckles “Yes.” They were silent for a few minutes, before she spoke again “I had nightmares about that day too.”
Zuko’s eyes widen slightly at that “...what?”
“It wasn’t easy for me to see that happen to you and not being able to help you.” She replied. His expression softening slightly. She looks at him with a small smile “Do you remember when we were kids and you had nightmares and you went to my room to sleep with me?”
He nods with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips “Yes, I do.”
“Would it help you? If we sleep together like back then?” Y/N asked him.
Zuko hesitates for a moment “We’re not kids anymore.”
“I know, I just thought it could help you...” Y/N looked at the fire again.
He takes a deep breath “The crew will talk about it...”
“I know.” she sighs “Just forget I suggest it.”
Zuko looks back at her again before he sighs. She didn’t know this, but he had a crush on her when they were kids and sleeping by her side, was risky. “Fine. But just for tonight.”
She looks at him confused “But you just said...”
“It’s just for tonight.” He cut her.
“Okay.” She stands up, and so does he.
Zuko made sure his door was closed and locked, before moving over to his bed. He sits down on the edge of it, patting the spot next to him “Come on, get comfortable.” Y/N just smiles, before she untied her hair. He can’t help but stare at her for a moment. He always sees her with her hair tied, and she was even more beautiful now. “It looks good untied.”
“Thanks.” She smiled again and lay by his side on the bed.
He leans back against the headboard, his eyes locked on her face. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just take in the sight of her lying next to him “It’s strange...having you here like this.”
“Why? We slept on the same bed all the time when we were kids.” She replied.
Zuko chuckles softly “Yeah, I know. It’s just different now.” he says as his eyes roams down her body.
Y/N chuckles too “I know, but we’re still the same us, right?”
He smiled at her, then slowly reaches out to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear “I don’t know...I don’t think I’m the same person anymore...”
“Well, I guess I’m not either.” She looks down and she sighs.
Zuko watches her for a moment, wondering what’s wrong. He hesitates for a moment before gently brushing his fingers against her cheek, tilting her head up so she was looking at him “What’s wrong, Y/N/N?”
“I just realized how much we both changed theses two years apart.”
He nods, understanding the sentiment. He leans closer to her “We both had our reasons...but look at us now. We found each other again.
She smiles “We did.”
He smiled back before leaning in just a little “I missed you.”
Y/N/Nre leaned in too “I missed you too.”
Zuko just leans in a little more, without touching her lips. She just smiles, but doesn’t move, wondering who would do the first move. Finally, Zuko couldn’t take it anymore. He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips softly against hers. His hand moved up to the back of her head, holding her close as he deepened the kiss. Y/N kiss him back with all the passion she hides all those years. Zuko’s hand moved down her back, pulling her closer to him. He groaned against her lips as their tongues danced together, their desire for one another growing with each moment. Her hand went to his face, as she breaks the kiss for air.
“What are we doing, Zuko?” She asked breathless.
He looked deeply into her eyes, his heart racing with passion. He knows what they’re doing, but he’s not sure if he wants do admit it “I don’t know, Y/N. What are we doing?”
“We’re friends...” She answered.
Zuko smirks sligtly, his voice low and husky “Friends who share a bed, friends who kiss passionately...are you sure that’s all we are?”
Y/N looks at him for a few seconds thinking, before she kisses him again. He groans, lost in the feeling of her lips against his. He deepens the kiss, his hand moves from her back to her thigh, squeezing gently as he explores her mouth with his tongue. She turns them so she can lay on top of him.
Feeling her weight, his heart races with anticipation, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as their hips grind together. “God, Y/N...I want you so much.” She moans in the kiss, feeling how hard he is in his pants.
Zuko groans, unable to control himself. He lifts his hips off the bed, grinding his erection agains her “Y/N...”
She starts kissing his jaw and his neck, as her hands lifts his shirt. Shivering at her touch on his skin. Soon the get rid of the piece of clothing and removes her’s too. Zuko watches as she does that, revealing her breast to him. His mouth goes dry, and he can’t tear his eyes away from her.
“You can touch me, Zuko” Y/N whisper in his ears.
He hesitates for a moment, his hands shaking as she reaches to touch her. His fingers graze over her nipples, causing them to harden “I’m afraid I might hurt you...”
“Hurt me...? Zuko, you’ve done this before, right?” She asks him with a small smile. He looks away from her, feeling embarrassed. “Hey.” She says softly, as she turns his face back to her. “Did you?”
Zuko takes a deep breath “Yes...I’ve done this before. It’s not my first time. But with you...”
Y/N silences him with a kiss while her hands open his pants. He gasps softly, his hands finding the way to her hair, tangling themselves in the soft strands, while he presses his hard length against her hand. Y/N quickly gets rid of his pants and underwear, making Zuko letting out a soft moan as he is completely naked underneath her. She also takes off the rest of her clothes, before she sits on top of him, her wetness brushing agains his throbbing member.
His eyes widen when he feel it, groaning deeply, unable to control his desire for her any longer. His hands find their way to her back, pulling her closer while his hips buck up towards her. “God...”
Y/N smiles seeing how desperate he’s becoming. She kisses his neck again, trailing down to his chest and going down, stopping when she’s closes to his groin, making Zuko’s breath hitches. When she stops, he begs for more “Please, Y/N...”
“Tell me what you want.” She whispers as her hands was dangerous close to his cock.
Zuko’s voice is ragged as he answers her, his hips jerk up towards her hand, seeking release “I want you to touch me...”
Y/N smiles and her hand found him, stroking his member slowly. His back arches off the bed, a moan escaping his lips as she does that. His cock twitches in her hand, leaking pre-cum “Oh gods...Y/N... you’re killing me.”
“Am I?” She chuckles as she kept her pace slow.
His hips bucking up towards her hand, his cock throbbing, aching for release “Yes...you are...´please...”
Y/N chuckles again, she then licks his member, from base to tip, making Zuko’s eyes rolls back in his head. “Oh fuck...” She then decided to stop torture him, as she put all of him in her mouth. Zuko’s hand tangles in her hair as he thrust his hips forward, meeting the rhythm of her head. When she notices he’s getting closer, she stops and go back on top of him.
Zuko pants heavily, his eyes locked on her as his cock twitches “Y/N...I need to be inside of you.” She only nods and Zuko takes advantage to flip them, so now he was on top of her. He positions himself at her entrance, their eyes locked as he slowly pushes inside of her, making both moan as he feels her tight heat around his cock. He starts to trust slowly, feeling every inch of her “Oh fuck...you’re so tight.” With each thrust, Zuko drives deeper, her nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks. “Y/N, I...”
“I know.” She says between her moans “I’m close too.”
Feeling her body tensing beneath him, Zuko picks up the pace. His hips slam against her in a primal rhythm as he drives himself deeper inside of her. Their combined moans fill the air “Come for me...I want to feel you cum around my cock.”
A few seconds later, Y/N couldn’t hold back anymore. She came around his cock, her walls clenching as she moans his name. The pleasure of this is almost too much to bear “Y/N...I’m gonna cum.”
She feels Zuko trying to pull away, but she wraps her legs around him, holding him in place. Fighting against the urge to let go, Zuko grits his teeth as he feels his release building. “Y/N...I can’t hold back.”
“Then don’t.” She whispers, keeping her hold on him. With one last trust, Zuko cum inside of her. Their bodies shudder as he releases his seed deep inside her. His face is contorted in pleasure and exhaustion as he leans down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. When they break apart, he gazes into her eyes “You’re unbelievable”
Y/N chuckles as she looks at him “You’re amazing.
Zuko also chuckles, running his fingers through her hair. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to kiss you...”
“You have no idea how long I wanted you.” She smiles.
He pulls her closer, kissing her neck softly “I think I have an idea...”
“Oh really?” she smirks “Then tell me, since when?”
“Since I’ve been banished?” Y/N chuckles and shakes her head ‘no’. Zuko raises an eyebrow “Then when, exactly?”
“Since the time we fall on the fountain.” She laughs, remembering that. They were 7 at the time.
“What?” Zuko was confused “But that was more then 10 years ago.”
“I know.”
He kissed her lips softly “So, I’ve been wanted by you for 10 years?”
“Yeah.” She smiles “I just thought that you didn’t saw me like that.”
Zuko groans “I was such an idiot...”
“Why?” Y/N asked him.
“Because...from the first moment I saw you, I wanted you. And then when we fell in the fountain, I knew. My heart has always been yours, Y/N, but I was too scared to admit.”
“It would have saved us a lot of time.” She laughs softly.
Zuko decides to pull out of her, making her hiss. “I’m sorry.” He kisses her forehead.
“It’s okay, I’m just too sensitive after that.” She smiles reassuring him.
The night goes on, until they finally decide to sleep. The next morning, they decide to have breakfast with everyone. His uncle looked tired. “You’re okay, Iroh?” She asked him.
Iroh nods “Just couldn’t sleep. Too much noise in this ship.”
Y/N looked at Zuko, they both blushing. “Oh god.”
“We’re sorry, uncle.” Zuko says, his face red.
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at the end of the day
summary. you and astarion have your first genuine fight and the other companions try to patch things between the two of you.
warnings. comfort/fluff
pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader
a/n. have not written an actual one-shot in a while omg,...
Breakfast is eaten in silence. One that's been extending far past its welcome date now.
Shadowheart grips her fork, feeling the flitting glances exchanged amongst the others around the table while she maintains focus on the two individuals sitting on opposite sides of the table. Your eyes remain trained on the bread sitting on your plate and Astarion swirls his chalice aimlessly in his hand, neither of you even acknowledging the presence of the other. The cleric grimaces as you stand suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor as you do so.
"Thanks for the food, Gale," is all you mutter before leaving the room with your plate in hand. Astarion rises from his own chair in an instant, huffing.
"I must take my leave as well."
When both parties have left the room, all five other companions stare at one another in a knowing silence. Lae'zel is the only one who doesn't seem the slightest bothered. Wyll is the one to break the uncomfortable tension in the air, clearing his throat after Lae'zel nearly bites her fork off. "I see they're still amidst their lovers' quarrel."
"What are they even fighting about?" Karlach groans, slumping into her chair with an exasperated groan.
"It was nice the first few days to have a good night's sleep without their incessant noises," Shadowheart grumbles, shoving an egg into her mouth. "But now, this is arguable worse."
"Should we...aid them somehow?" Gale blinks.
Lae'zel snorts. "They're adults, we don't need to coddle them, wizard."
Despite her words, they do find themselves a few hours later in unanimous agreement to do something to ease the unfamiliar dryness of the camp dynamic. It comes in multiple attempts. And to say few---if not all--were unsuccessful, is an understatement.
First, when out in the woods, Gale makes an effort to spark a conversation that would prompt both you and Astarion to join in. You nod occasionally, though lost in thought, while Astarion promptly ignores whatever he's talking about. It's a pathetic attempt that has nobody but himself babbling away, which earns a grunt from Shadowheart. It's enough to shut him up, thankfully.
Second, Karlach uses her uncanny ability to lift someone's spirits. Jokes, dancing, all that jazz. Even booze. She urges you to let loose, but all you do in response is smile at her apologetically while Astarion just glares off into space. Another failed attempt. Lae'zel pats Karlach on the shoulder.
Wyll tells stories of his monster hunting days which you usually take an interest in. Astarion naturally listens to what a monster hunter does when he's not hunting monsters, but that's all it is. You and Astarion only listen. There are quips and lingering questions, but neither of you ever direct it at one another, or bother to add into the conversation either. The sheer amount of teasing questions has Wyll's head spinning by the end of it. Lae'zel rolls her eyes.
Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, you're ambushed. It's a small horde of goblins---nothing beyond your capabilities, but your companions do take some small scratches here and there. Somehow, though he rarely does, as he prefers staying behind you or Karlach, Astarion does too. And despite his efforts to hide it behind his back, you also didn't miss the cut lining Astarion's arm to his elbow. It's not deep by any means, and if it were your own injury, you'd likely just brush it off.
But it's on his skin, and he'd gotten it when taking a hit from an arrow that should've cut your arm.
Blasted hells, you think, as he shrugs it off. Even when you can clearly see him clenching his jaw to bite away the pain.
If battle won't be the end of you, you're sure your idiot of a boyfriend might be instead.
"Come here, you fool," you mutter, holding out your hand. He doesn't even consider the fact that you're mad at one another and immediately extends his arm to you. Habits, you suppose.
You mumble out a weak scolding as he watches you wrap the wound through his lashes. He shivers as you lather a cool ointment on the cut, hoping it's enough to soothe the pain before Shadowheart's recovered enough to properly heal him. He lifts a pale hand to your face, and for a moment, you think he might pinch you. Instead, he runs a thumb across your cheek, spreading the ointment on a scratch you hadn't even realized was there in the first place.
You meet his eyes, your own softening as he cups his fingertips around your cheek. The way he looks at you is overwhelming sometimes---like you're the only thing he gives a damn about in this world---but it's a welcome feeling when he hasn't even looked you in the eye this way in days now. For a moment, you realize you don't even remember why the two of you were mad at one another in the first place.
A laugh threatens to escape your throat. How childish, truly.
And then he flicks your forehead, unable to help the grin etching onto his lips when you blink in surprise.
"That was for making me sleep by myself for three nights."
You swat at his arm while he dodges each of your lazy attempts to get back at him. And though the two of you continue bickering, unbeknownst to you, you have an audience a good bit away, watching you return to your old ways after making them worry for so long.
"What a sight it is--to see young people in love again," Wyll smiles.
Shadowheart deadpans. "Isn't Astarion nearing 240?"
"Who cares?" Karlach shrugs, slinging her arms on either side of her companions with a toothy beam. "What matters is that they made up...and we didn't even have to help them."
#is this kinda ooc idek atp#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate astarion#astarion x tav#bg3 astarion#astarion x reader#astarion#feyascorner#bg3 x reader#astarion x oc#baldurs gate 3
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Whirlwind | MYG
♡pairing: min yoongi x reader
♡wc: 3.1k
♡genre: smut, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, non-idol AU
♡ warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, oral sex (f receiving)
♡summary: with a hurricane coming your way towards your state, your roommate provides a safe haven to the man you’ve despised for as long as you can remember.
MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)
The grocery store was bustling with people getting ready to prepare for the hurricane that was set to land in your state by the end of the week. You always knew once hurricane season started you needed to get supplies to keep you stocked, but since you’re plagued with the disease of procrastination you have no choice but to do last minute shopping. At least you had the company of Park Jimin to help you with your grocery run.
Park Jimin has been a close friend of yours since high school and have stayed roommates even after your college years. He has been the biggest support system for you throughout the years and you have been the same for him.
Once you were done checking out at the store you made your way to the car to pack all your groceries away. There was already a steady drizzle of rain falling down from the sky and you sighed already imagining the flooding that was bound to come with the storm. Jimin decided to take over the role of driving back home. You thanked him and quietly slid into the passenger seat. Jimin had refrained from any conversation throughout this trip and it made you a little concerned for him. He is never one to shy away from conversation or saying what he thinks so this behavior leads you to believe that something is wrong.
“Hey Chim, is everything alright?” You glanced his way to see if his expression will give anything away, but his face didn’t even twitch.
“Yeah I’m good bub, I just have some stuff on my mind. Don’t mind me.” He sent you a small smile to try and placate your worries.
“Okay well you know I’ll always be here to listen whenever you’re ready.” You gave him a small squeeze to his shoulder and dropped the topic the rest of the drive home. The soft hum of the radio filled up the silence of the car ride.
Once at home the groceries were unpacked and put into their respective places in the fridge and pantry and Jimin stored the cases of water bottles in the garage. Without glancing your way he called your name softly to get your attention once he was back in the kitchen. You peered at him waiting to hear what he was going to ask.
“Can we talk once I’m out of the shower?” You nodded and retreated to your room to give him the space he needed to do.
Your mind started to sift through memories of the past weeks to see if it could give you any kind of hint as to what this conversation could be about. Is he going to move out? Did you do something to upset him and didn’t realize? The cogs were turning and anxiety was starting to make you feel a little queasy. The time that Jimin took to shower and change felt like it was stretching on for too long. You were about to get up and check on him when you heard tow soft knocks against your door before he opened it to let himself in.
He was changed into an oversized sleep shirt and sweatpants and his bare cheeks were slightly flushed from the hot shower. You patted the middle of the bed for him to sit down and get comfortable.
“What’s going on Jimin? Are you sure everything is okay?” He was wringing his fingers together
And his eyes shifted around the room as he was preparing himself to speak. “With the hurricane coming up, is it okay if a friend comes and stays with us until it passes? His town is directly in the path of the storm and his area is prone to flooding.” You stared at him with widened eyes and nodded without hesitation. Why was he so nervous about this? This wasn’t nearly as bad as all the scenarios that you came up with in your mind.
“Of course that’s okay Chim! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Don’t scare me like though again I thought you were dying or going to move out!” You stretched to give him a hug and he rubbed your back gently. With that being the end of the discussion he bid you goodnight with a tight lipped smile that you gave no mind to and he took himself back into his bedroom.
Okay -scratch that- there is one friend of Jimin’s that is not a friend of yours. That person is the one and only Min Yoongi. He has been a thorn in your side since Jimin has entered your life. He has never done anything that was genuinely that awful to you but it’s the way he speaks and carries himself with such an arrogant attitude that aggravates you.
When you saw him walk through the threshold of your front door with his duffel bag you instantly felt your blood start to bubble from the boiling rage you had in your body. The glare you sent Jimin was deadly and you motioned him to follow you into your room so you can tear him a new one talk.
“Park Jimin I don’t know if you suddenly have amnesia for the past 10 years, but I don’t know where you got the idea that Min Yoongi is allowed into our home! If I had known it was him that you were offering a place to stay I would’ve just let the hurricane take him away.” You were livid. Jimin took your hands in his to stop the gesticulating you were doing. With the way your hands were moving wildly he was afraid you would hit him.
“ I didn’t tell you because of that reason Y/N. I know you don’t like him, but this is only temporary. I told him to be on his best behavior, but if he really acts out I’ll send him to a hotel nearby if the weather isn’t too bad.” You let out an exasperated sigh, but had nothing else to add to the conversation that would make it productive. You stomped back out into the living room and refused to acknowledge Yoongi’s presence. Maybe if you just ignore that he’s in your home you can keep your sanity intact.
“Hey princess, can you sit somewhere else? This is gonna be my bed for the next couple of days.” You gritted your teeth hearing that god awful nickname Yoongi called you. He always said it in such a condescending tone that would get under your skin in the perfect way. “In case you forgot Yoongi,” his name rolled off your tongue with a sharp bite. “This is my home that you are a guest in. You don’t get to boss me around on what I can and cannot do in my home and my couch.” You continued scrolling on your phone hoping he would get the hint to leave you alone. Needless to say you were wrong. Instead he decided to plop himself down on the couch without a care that jostled your body. You glared at him and he met your gaze with a stupid fucking smirk. On top of this he started to unpack his duffel bag noisily, tugging on the zipper with a strong force. You got up from the couch with a huff and locked yourself in your room with a slam of your door. This was going to be a strenuous couple of days.
The next day you woke up and found Jimin and Yoongi working outside to put shutters around the windows. This blowing wind was starting to pick up but the humidity was still high in the air. You stepped outside and greeted Jimin while he was busy holding the ladder to keep Yoongi stabilized. You retreated to get two cups of cold water to give the boys and when you came back outside Yoongi was wiping the sweat off his face with the front of his t-shirt. The way the fabric rode up to expose his pale skin and toned back had you staring without even realizing. Jimin was suddenly clearing his throat and when your eyes landed on his face he was staring at you with a raised eyebrow. You looked back at the cups and handed them both to Jimin and headed back inside without a word.
When they finished the project of the shutters the sliding door opened and when you walked in Min Yoongi’s shirt was off. You stared at his abs that were just as toned as his back. When the hell did he get so fit? Even his biceps were much bigger than you ever remember them. Why do you even remember the size of his biceps?
“You seem to have a staring problem princess, keep that up and I might do something about it.” His low voice took you out of your daze and you scoffed at his comment. “You come anywhere near me Min and I’ll punch you into next week. Watch yourself.” You slid your eyes back on the Netflix show that had lost your interest minutes ago. He just snickered and walked into Jimin’s room to take a shower.
Once the door was locked Jimin stood in front of the TV blocking your view with his hand on his hips. “What’s up with the sudden ogling you have for Yoongs? You wanna fuck him or something?” This made you burst out in sarcastic laughter. “Get real Jimin. I wouldn’t even touch him with a 10 foot pole.” you rolled your eyes at the thought of even getting touched by Yoongi. “Whatever you say, but your actions are contradicting the bullshit that you’re trying to convince me with.” And with that Jimin stalked off into to kitchen for a quick snack.
Later in the evening the thunderstorm was booming with thunder and you could see peeks of lightning through the shutters. The combination of these conditions with the howling wind has led the power to go out. Jimin searched for the lantern in the garage to bring back some light into the home. You were left with Yoongi in the living room and no words were said between the two of you. It's for the best. Yoongi felt like breaking the silence first.
“You know, I never understood why you can’t stand me princess. I don’t think I’ve done anything to wrong you.” He studied his nails as he talked. “First issue already is that dumbass nickname that you won’t stop calling me even though I told you endless times that I hate it.” “Aw, but I think it suits you and your stuck up behavior.” He sneered and this made you meet his eyes with a fiery glare. “Go fuck yourself Min. You’re one to talk about other people’s behaviors when you walk around like an arrogant ass. You have some fucking nerve.” The tension in the room was rising to levels that made it feel stuffy. Why the hell is it taking Jimin so long to find the lantern? “You think you know everything about me princess, but you don’t even know how wrong you are!” His voice was rising as he got up from the couch and he was now towering above your seated figure. “Well if I’m so wrong why don’t you prove it to me that you’re not some self-important prick.”
As soon as those words came out of your mouth his lips were colliding with your own and his fingers grasped your chin to keep you in place. You kissed back with the same amount of fervor and gripped the front of his sweatshirt. As soon as you let out a whimper of desperation, you heard the garage door open notifying you both of Jimin’s returning presence. Yoongi pulled away at light speed and took his seat back on the couch to keep the distance between you two. “What did I miss?” Jimin looked between the two of you with confusion spread on his face. You ignored his curiosity and retreated into your room before he could detect the flush spread across your face.
Since the power was lost the house became hotter as the night progressed and the sweatshirt you had was discarded for a cropped tank top and nothing more than panties for the bottoms. Your handheld fan lost power an hour ago since you decided to have it on full blast instead of trying to conserve the power to have it last longer. The sheen of sweat was building up on your skin and you went to the garage to get yourself a bottle of water to help cool down.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when you opened the door and saw Yoongi’s figure in the garage too. “Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” You clutched your hand over your heart trying to calm your heart rate. You’re too frazzled to realize that you’re standing in front of Min Yoongi in just your panties and that he’s shirtless and only boxers. He smirked and slowly approached you. You pedaled backwards until your back hit the wall and was cornered by him. His eyes roamed over your body and smirked. “You know you drive my crazy princess?” You turned your face to the side to avoid eye contact, but his breath fanned your neck in the right way to make your heart race. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmured through pouted lips.
He took a small step back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Really? Because the way you were whimpering for me hours ago just from a kiss says otherwise.” You flushed at his words and you were again cornered by him. He slit his leg between yours and his thigh was just ghosting the already damp spot you have in your panties.”Well I can give you a little reminder and more to jog your memory.” He raised his thigh and planted his hands on your waist to keep you place. The sudden sensation has you gasping and rutting your hips to get more friction.
“Look at you, you’re like a bitch in heat rutting against my thigh. You’re so desperate for me already and I haven’t even done a thing princess. I can’t wait to fuck your shitty attitude out of you.” His words were starting to anger you. “Shut the fuck up!” You were too busy chasing your high to even want to give him the time of day to his taunting. To this, he swiftly removed his thigh and went back to standing straight. You were distressed and looked at him with wide eyes. What is wrong with him? “Yoongi what the fuck?” He wrapped his long, slender fingers around the column of your throat. “You think you deserve to fucking cum? With the way you’ve talked to me all these years I could edge you all fucking week. Don’t tempt me.” You shivered at his words. His fingers slithered in between your legs and pushed your panties to the side to tease your clit. You released a breathy moan and threw your head on his shoulder. “Tell me no right now and I’ll stop right now sweetheart. We won’t even have to talk about it ever again.” You shook your head against his shoulder. “I need words, that isn’t enough.” “I want you to fuck me Yoongi. Now stop talking and do something.” The desperation was so evident in your words and that’s all he needed to hear.
His dexterous fingers got to work and slipped into your sloppy cunt. The way his fingers pumped into you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “F-fuck Yoon right there!” Your thighs were shaking and your pussy fluttered the closer you were to your orgasm. At the last second you were about to cum Yoongi slipped out his fingers and slapped your pussy. You were panting now with how worked up you were.
“Take the panties off. Now.” You obliged with his words and his dark eyes made you even wetter if that was even possible because you are the most soaked you’ve ever been before. Nobody has ever made you feel as good as Yoongi is right now. Once your panties were off he dropped to his knees and stuffed his head between your legs. You propped up one of your feet on his thigh and he grabbed the back of your thighs to bring you closer. His lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking on it. Your moans were rising in volume and in pitch. His tongue dipping into your hole and licking your cunt made you feral. You gripped on to his hair and that sensation had him moaning against your core. That was enough to send you over the edge. You let out a strangled moan as you came all over his mouth. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good on my tongue.”
You didn’t even get a chance to regain your bearings before Yoongi's lips were on yours. The taste of him mixed with you had you groaning. His cock was straining against his boxers and he was rutting against your thigh and he nibbled on your lip and kissed you fervently. “Now you’re the bitch in heat on my thigh.” You chuckled, but Yoongi wasn’t in the mood for jokes at the moment. He stripped off his boxers and the sight of his thick cock had you drooling. He tapped the back of your thigh twice and instructed you to jump up. You followed his instructions and his hands gripped your thighs as he pressed you against the wall. He angled his cock against your entrance and bottomed out in one go. This had you screaming out in pleasure and your nails dragged against his back.
He fucked into you mercilessly and reveled in the sounds you made. Knowing he was making you feel this good and scream out inflated his ego beyond the atmosphere. “Tell me you’re only fucking mine.” He growled into your ear. You were so fucked out you could barely process his words. “Tell. Me. Princess.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust that had you seeing stars. “F-fuck I’m only y-yours Yoongi! Only yours!” He grinned hearing this. The coil in your stomach snapped and brought you to your second orgasm of the night. “Who would’ve thought the bitch with the most to say would be creaming all over my fucking cock.” Yoongi was groaning through his words and his thrusts were starting to get sloppy. After a few more strokes he pumped your pussy full of his cum.
You both were out of breath and panting and you winced when his softening cock slipped out of you. You both suddenly jumped at the sudden knock against the garage door. Jimins voice rang through the other side. “I’m glad you’ve been able to reconcile, but you two are fucking loud!” You heard his footsteps fade away and you and Yoongi snickered at each other. Maybe Min Yoongi isn’t as bad after all.
#thebtswritersclub#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi fanfiction#min yoongi fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts x reader#min yoongi#min yoongi smut#whirlwind au#suga x reader#suga x you#suga x y/n#suga fanfic#bts suga#suga
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★~Kirara and Hakari flirting with you~★
(No actual smut but it's steamy so Read More just cus)
It starts with Kirara flirting with you to make Hakari jealous. Not anything serious, she just wanted to see what would happen.
She does this by paying more attention to you, touching you more, complementing you more and just being more flirtatious in general. Hakari knows what she's doing obviously, he does find it amusing that you don't seem to know what's going on.
So one day you're training your technique in the fight club training room and they're just watching from the side on a battered couch. Hakari pulls her onto his lap.
"You don't think I know what you're doing?" He says down at her, lazily stroking his hand up her thigh.
She pouts at him, "I don't know what you're talking about, Kin."
He scoffs and looks over at where you're trying to perfect a specific stance for your technique.
"Didn't even work, That dumbass can't take a hint." He mumbles resting his head back, still watching you.
"Well maybe I should try harder."
Kirara says, staring at the same place her boyfriend is.
"Good luck with that, Babe" he chuckles out patting her thigh.
She huffs at the condescending tone and brings all her attention back to him. "Cmon~ you never thought about it Kin?"
"bout what?" He knows what she's talking about and yes, he definitely has but he wants her to say it.
"bout the three of us..." she trails her slender fingers up his chest, looking up at him with lidded eyes, "Together."
Her fingers trails up his neck as she leaves light kisses there and he slides his hand up under the hem of her shorts to squeeze her ass. He leans back and hums for her to continue. She leans closer to his ear, "You could fuck them while they fuck me, or we could both suck you off." Her hand goes to palm the growing bulge in his pants as he smirks and closes his eyes, imagining the pretty picture she's painting for him. "Or we could fuck and have them watch, or you could both double team me, or we could-"
"OH MY GOD! COULD YOU GUYS NOT FUCK IN FRONT OF ME FOR EVEN A SECOND??!"
They both pause and turn their heads to look at you with wide eyes. You stand there, hands on your hips in your compression shirt and sweatpants. You've been trying to concentrate on your training while the lovers mumble and whisper to each other about whatever.
You've gotten used to feeling like a third wheel being around them so often, living with them, working with them. That doesn't mean it didn't bother you when you look over at them and they're half way to fucking right there!
After a second of silence they both let out light laughs. Both amused at your bothered state and the fact that they'd gotten so distracted with their shared daydream.
"Sorry, Y/n!" Kirara yells back, trying to look apologetic. Hakari grins at you and stands up, hauling Kirara in his arms as he walks out of the training room, a clear destination in mind. Kirara giggles as Hakari kisses her neck, her eyes still on you, waving goodbye as the door closes behind them.
You huff in disbelief, looking around the now empty room, definitely not imagining what your two friends are doing together in their room. You go back to training, trying to ignore the heat building in your lower regions.
After this, the couple gets a lot more touchy in front of you, even more than they already were. They also get more touchy with you. Hakari touches your waist and lower back when he's walking past you, he presses you up against the kitchen counter pretending he's trying to reach something above you. Kirara snuggles up to you on the couch and even gives you "friendly" cheek kisses. They also get much louder when they fuck, their moans and bed squeaking being very audible from your room right next door. Unknown to you, they can also hear the frustrated hushed groans coming from your side of the wall right after they fuck.
Safe to say you're pretty sexually frustrated as you sit on the couch trying to watch TV. The two menaces smirk at each other in the hallway, Hakari pats Kirara on her ass, encouraging her to prance into the living room and plop herself right next to you.
"Hey Y/n, You doing alright?"
She feigns concern, pressing up to your side, arms hugging one of yours.
"I'm fine, why?" You answer, confusion present in the tone.
"Well you just seem kinda...moody." She says leaning her cheek on your shoulder.
"Moody?" You arch a brow at her.
"Yeah, just- I dunno. You seem bothered, pent-up....tense." she starts massaging your arm before she places a hand on your thigh.
"Is there anything I can do?"
She says leaning closer to say it into your ear. That's when you realise what's actually happening.
"Uh No Kira it's alright. I'm f-" As you try to get up she pulls you down again and straddles you. Your wide eyes look into her pretty droopy ones, your hands hover in the air on either side of her waist, not sure what to do.
She runs her hands up your chest and shoulders, lowering herself until she rests her groin on yours. You sigh at the feeling and the way she's looking at you until you snap yourself out of it.
"What about Hakari?" Genuine concern very present in your hushed voice. As annoying as the couple was you didn't want to be the reason a perfectly good relationship ends.
"What about me?" A low voice hums right next to your ear, you were so caught up you didn't even notice Hakari leaning over the back of the couch. You suck in a breath, Is he mad at me? Is he mad at Kirara? Am I a homewrecker? You're so caught up in your panic that it takes you a minute to register Hakari's tone. Not one of anger but instead very amused.
Kirara giggles at your reaction and takes your hands in hers to place them on her bare waist. "Poor Y/n, so frustrated, huh Kin?" She says while softly kissing up your neck along your jaw, her cold piercings making you shiver. She slowly starts to grind down on your crotch. Hakari hums in agreement and gently places a hand around your neck to keep you from squirming away while he slowly kisses and licks down the other side of your neck to your shoulder.
"We can help with that." He says against the skin where your shoulder and neck meet before biting down.
You're soooo fucked.
#im so fucking BISEXUALLLLL#could u tell#I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND AND MY BOYFRIEND LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO#jjk x reader#jjk#hakari kinji#kirara hoshi#hakari x reader#kirara x reader#hakari x kirara#jjk hakari#jjk kirara
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good for you / ln4, part one
lando norris x fem!reader
no use of y/n, as always.
in which you and lando have parted ways, but on what terms? at what cost is he willing to get you back, and how far down are you finished with him? what lengths with the two of you go, battling with your hearts, before you can be together once more? he knows that no one is good for you, except him.
a/n⋯ a collaborative piece between myself and the lovely @jamminvroomvroom. she will be writing the next chapter, so keep your eyes out! we don't have a total idea of how long this'll be, but we are so thrilled to have it ready for you all. jas is an amazing writer, and i am so, so lucky that she wanted to do this with me. shower her with all the love, and i hope you enjoy this. as usual, reader's clothes are left up to interpretation. this is for you afterall;)!
warnings⋯ smut, MINORS DNI 18++. language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), insecurity, arguments, exes to lovers(?(we shall see!)) possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.
wc⋯ 5.2k (unedited.)
the night began well. the boy you were with was well. you were well. that was the most important thing, wasn’t it? it must be. it had to be, you convinced yourself of that very fact. truly, you had no reason to complain. your friends supported you, loved you, were obsessed with you. and you had a man on your arm who felt the exact same way, and would kiss the ground you walked on.
but others, another, would worship you. used to. but now you were alone, a goddess left untouched, brazen in this world of antagonists. yet, it was a change. it was a change that you needed. this relationship you had with damian was one of new blood. a shift from your tumultuous routine that felt liberating over a life you once mourned.
damian was a man of respectful nature, good upbringings, and he was a good chat. he was fit, treated you with a sweet tenderness that you adored him for, and didn’t devolve into a flaming lair of toxicity to keep you trapped.
and, he was a football player, which was a bonus. he played for barcelona’s team, and you couldn’t be more proud of him. after your previous relationship concluded, the pair of you were introduced by mutual friends, namely the ferrari driver, carlos. you were apathetic at first, unsure of if this was the right move. if it was too soon to want to jump into something.
but damian was kind. he adored you. what else did you want?
more.
you danced with him. in the night life of monaco, you were showered with his attention. the attention of your friends. it was a weekend off for the drivers, so you were able to meet up with the other girls you knew. kika and alexandra in particular, who’ve been entirely supportive of you these past few months.
they danced with one another, cheering you and your now boyfriend on, shouting pleasantries of how good you looked at his side.
damian’s hands around your hips felt good. it felt right. when the bass dropped, so did you. he caught your seductive actions and his eyes widened. there were no words to describe his expression besides admiration. you loved his eyes the most about him— his dark hair, tanned skin, muscular physique—
shit,
maybe you did have a type.
you spun back around, latching your arms around his neck, and he cradled your lower back with his palms. “what?” you questioned his stare that was unrelenting.
“nothin’,” he scoffed. “you’re just absolutely beautiful, innit?”
your head fell back with a laugh, patting his chest as a means to quiet him, but he kept going.
“‘m serious,” your name was low on his tongue. “you’re practically glowin’, love.”
you peppered a kiss on his lips. he met you halfway, swallowing your mouth whole. his tongue entered your mouth, and you could only respond with a noise deep within your throat. he felt the vibration against his lips, and continued his movements.
the pair of you were swaying against each other’s bodies, tongue down one another’s throats, and for a moment the world washed away. something that hasn’t happened in ages, you felt like a makeshift paradise was born between the both of you. a hideaway.
but mirages only serve their purpose for a short time before they fade away into nothingness.
you broke away from his kiss. he looked surprised, offended, but you said nothing of his expression. you brought your lips to his ear for a brief kiss, “i’ll get us drinks?”
he nodded, letting you go.
you brushed past him, trailing your hand up kika’s arm. she immediately spun towards you, alexandra’s attention drawing as well. they beamed when they saw you, following you right over to the bar. the triad of you loitered there, swirling the drinks you ordered in hand.
“so?” kika asked you, as if she’s been dying to hear this story the whole night. alexandra glowered at her, pestering her to be quiet, but you’d answer her regardless.
“it’s good.”
the girls looked at one another.
“that’s it? good?” kika looked baffled.
“what? what else do you wanna know?” you took a sip of your drink, feet hanging from the barstool that you were sat upon.
“anything!” alexandra exclaimed. “haven’t seen you this happy in months.” kika made a face at her, telltale of not to bring up what happened. ah, you thought, what happened. none of you discussed in great details of what happened that night, but they knew it was intense. intense enough for you to lock yourself away for a week with no contact. it was a horrid sight, and they were terrified for you.
“well,” you shrugged. “i am. really. damian’s a great guy.”
the girls squealed, grabbing your free hand. “he seems lovely, doesn’t he? ugh! you look so good together, too!” kika was more excited than you expected her to be, but her support meant the world. along with alexandra’s approval, you felt like you were taking the great steps that were needed to…move on. a dreadful phrase that has been bouncing back and forth in your mind.
“you really do. and he’s an excellent photographer. i mean, look at these pictures he took of you—” alexandra passed you her phone, damian’s instagram story open. it was of you, looking divine beneath the yellow-hues of the club. you’d give him credit where credit is due— you looked fantastic.
your hand flew to your mouth, covering your smile. that only had the girls squealing out more, finding your bashful attitude enough to answer their wearisome concerns. they were so worried about your state after the breakup that they would hound you. would stay as invested as they could in your life, until they were rather annoying. but you were grateful for them nonetheless. without them, you would’ve never met damian. without them, you may not have ever found happiness. however temporary it may be, it was what you felt at the moment.
when damian’s drink arrived in front of you, you swung off the stool and bid them a sweet goodbye with a kiss in your palm, blowing it in your direction. you sashayed through the crowd, slithering through the stalks of grass, and made your way into his arms. he reacted instantaneously, holding you close to his chest. his chin rubbed against your shoulder, clean-shaven, and whispered to you.
“thought you ran away on me.” he said with a hushed tone. you swiveled to hand him his drink, which he took, but not before pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.
“me?” you made a ‘pfft’ motion with your lips. “never.”
but oh,
how right he was.
damian let out a soft laugh before the two of you made a ‘cheers’ motion with your glasses, and danced the rest of the night away. it was a beautiful evening, truly, and you shouldn’t be feeling the way you were. devoid.
you pushed down the feeling as much as you could.
when you and damian left the club that night, you were happy. glittering with the sparkles of what young love was meant to be. you’d only been dating for two months, but it had you on the edge of your seat. fantasizing about what a life you could have with him.
but some things just stay fantasies, don’t they?
“you sure you’ll be alright?” damian asked you when you unlocked the door to your flat. you hummed with appreciation, feeling the buzz of alcohol through your system.
“i’m sure, my knight.” you said with dramatics. he smiled, appreciating your small antics. they kept him on his toes.
“whatever you say, babe.” he shook his head, holding the door open for you. you stepped inside, gripping the wood, and turned to face him.
you kissed him once good night on the lips, “i’ll text you in the morning.” he nodded against your lips, unwilling to let go, but did when you laughed against him. he was sweet. a sweet, sweet boy.\
“goodnight.” you cooed. he returned the phrase, and you shut your door and locked it.
now alone in your apartment, you threw your bag to the empty countertop and sauntered over to your room. fuck taking a shower tonight, you were just too tired for all of that. you stripped of your dress and threw on an old tee shirt that you had, unknowing of its origins, and laid in your bed.
on your phone you scrolled briefly on instagram, but froze on a singular post.
it was a suggested post. you were instantly gripped. the man draped over this girls body was instantly recognizable. his tanned skin. the stubble on his chin. the curls atop his head. the curls that you used to be obsessed with, running your fingers along his scalp.
you stared at the description:
paradise!
paradise. you scoffed to yourself.
tagged in the photo was the man himself. you clicked on his profile, curious, though you promised yourself you wouldn’t. once wouldn’t hurt, would it? too late, anyways, as you were down the rabbit hole of his feed.
the first post was a feature of him at his races. then, the second slide was a picture of him and her. what was this feeling? how could you find the audacity to let your stomach churn, your heart race? it wasn’t your place anymore. your place, albeit fought for, was not at his side.
he looked happy.
but so were you.
you were.
you are.
but the suggested post of his new girl had you hooked. it had you seething. biting your thumb nail with your front teeth, you made an impulsive decision.
you liked the post.
the night was just beginning for lando when you were in your bed. in the club with his mates, he was bumping to the rap mixes they played on the speakers. drenched in the mix of sweat and alcohol, he was living the life he dreamed of having. it was everything to him, picture perfect that no one could argue.
but there was something missing.
the girl at his front, his girlfriend, grinded against him with radical intentions. she was beautiful, of course, but that was all the words that lando had for her. she accessorized well, was in the media spotlight, and that’s all the boxes it took for him to swoop her off her feet. it was easy, truthfully, and their relationship has been a breeze.
but lando didn’t want a breeze, he wanted a storm. you were the eye of the hurricane that he yearned for. nothing about that has changed– and he feared, deeply, that nothing will ever turn his head. he’d been fixated on you since he laid eyes on you, your attitude. you kept him on his toes, not laid down and bored.
the girl, samantha, spun around to wrap her arms around lando’s neck. his hand traveled to her lower back, holding her close to him. she shouted and cheered with her girlfriends, lando’s own doing the same. but he said nothing, and brought his cocktail to his lips, gurgling a deep swallow of the bitter liquid that heated his throat.
with his bloodshot eyes and weary smiles, he’d attempt to be picturesque for the media. media, media, media. everything returned to the circulation of photos that’d come out with him and his girlfriend. girlfriends. you. he’d never felt so protective of you, of anyone, than the relationship that you had with him. nothing could compare, especially how samantha boasted in every post that he was with her.
her following count jumped well over five hundred thousand since he came in the picture. of course she never said anything, made it a point to speak about, but he knew. lando watched. scrolled endlessly through his phone in the middle of night, drinking up every word that his fan spewed out. a folly of comments asking where you were. what happened between the two of you. but he never made a post about it. it had been radio silence on his end, just as it was the same for you.
but it’d end with him throwing his phone to the side, and promising himself that he didn’t care. he couldn’t care. not when you weren’t his anymore, and that you walked out on him that night with valid purpose. he failed you, and that was on him.
in the meantime of your absence, samantha was there to fill the gaps. to soothe his broken heart with her painfully long acrylics that dug into the back of his neck, her pathetic moans of pleasure when he fucked her better than anyone ever could, and the rocking of his hips against her own in the darkness of the night club.
for now, it was enough. just barely, as it scraped the surface, but lando would down cup after cup to glue the pieces of his heart that you shattered.
samantha continued her movements. lando didn’t relent either, finishing off his drink, slapping his palm against her ass. the crowd around them erupted in cheers, and lando plastered a bolstered smile across his face. this is what they wanted. the surface level teasing, the sultry nature of grotesque actions. but it is not what he wanted. he craved the solitude, the comfort you brought him in the hours of the night before his races. he’d been a phantom crawling through this season, a ghost in the shell of a formula one driver.
“you alright?” samantha asked him. apparently he hadn’t been good at hiding the turmoil from his expressive face. her puckered lips had his eyes shifting downward. her bare chest, barely covered tits.
he’d say nothing in response and simply go in for a kiss. a deep one, aggressive, filling her mouth to the brim with his tongue. maybe this could erase the memories of you, however stubborn they were on placating in his mind as permanent fixtures.
his hand came around the back of her neck, angling her head better for him to swallow her whole. the bracelet, silver imbued with his logo, clanged against her large golden hoops. it was a loud noise that samantha pulled their lips apart. she turned her head to glance at the jewelry, and her lip curled with disgust.
the bracelet. the bracelet you gave him.
she scoffed and he could hear it, but he opted to say nothing in rebuttal. instead, she stalked away from him, looming large near the bar. he followed her tail, knowing that this spat between them wouldn’t last long.
she ordered a drink. lando’s head spun as is.
samantha pulled out her phone, bringing her drink to her lips, and damn near spit out the liquid. she covered her mouth from it spilling, and lando watched with a raised brow.
“what?” he asked of her.
“she liked it.” she. who’s she? who is she?
“what? who?” lando begged for clarification. samantha spun her phone around to shove it in his face. the screen illuminated him beneath the barely visible hues of light, and his eyes nearly popped out of his skill.
you liked her post with him.
you who swore you wanted nothing to do with him ever again. you who snapped the chain of the necklace he got from you, though made of the toughest silver, the metal was nothing beneath your furious fingertips.
lando swallowed, though it did little to stifle his salivating mouth, his racing heart. he clutched the back of the bar with one hand, feeling the world collapse in on him in that moment. a singular like on a photo he didn’t even want to be posted. all it took to have him breaking out into a cold sweat, feeling nausea tug on his stomach, was a like on instagram.
fucking pathetic, wasn’t he?
his thumb came to spin the bracelet around his wrist, twirling it in front of him. samantha hadn’t noticed, too hyper focused on your account. she uttered words that he couldn’t make out. things along the lines of, ‘weird,’ ‘she’s obsessed, ‘innshe?’ but they never made sense to his ears. if anything, you were obsessed with staying away. obsessed with anything but him, contrary to his own feelings. he wasn’t even sure if they mattered to you— did they?
in retaliation, he knew only one thing to steady his heart. he took samantha by her wrist to the nearest restroom, a single stall, and banged on the locked door.
she stood there, speechless, but had a feeling how this night would end. it brought a cruel smile to her lips, but she covered it with her phone in hand. she knew this is how she’d get some of the best sex of her life, when he was riled about his ex, brimming with fury. she didn’t care that she was being used as an outlet, for she was using him for the same.
so she didn’t care.
the man in the bathroom left with a curse but lando didn’t seem to give a fuck. he pulled the girl inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it without a care in the world. against the wall she was pushed, ravished by the company of his lips. he sucked and tugged at her lower lip, becoming so bold as to bite the flesh with his top teeth. she smacked his arm and he relented, knowing damn well that you would’ve been moaning with pleasure.
his lips left no surface untouched as he trailed down the surface of her body. along her collarbones, her bare chest, but he left no marks. he never did, much to her dismay, as if he were saying that she was never really his. because she wasn’t, his thoughts were rampant. this should be you.
lando hiked up the fabric around her cunt, scrunching the dress in his hand. his other made work around his pants, shuffling them down so his blistering cock could spring to life. it did, but with the work of you in his memories, and not the girl who was spilling her breasts for him in face.
he didn’t spend long serenading her with his tongue, though it would be a different story if it was you beneath him. he spared no effort where his lips rejected, the only way he found himself happy would be with your own against his. they were claimed for you and you alone.
it would be a fair assumption to say that you utterly ruined him.
his dick slid into her with ease with the help of his spit across his hand. he had slipped a condom on, too, tearing open the packaging and threw it to the ground. samantha’s hands came to wrap around the back of his neck, her claw-like nails digging into his skin. it had him curl his lip, not finding the sensation enjoyable, but he didn’t care. not when you were thundering on his mind. his storm, his sunshine.
she moaned deeply at the contact, finding her g-spot with no effort whatsoever. she was already a mess beneath him as he solidified a pace, grunting in the wake of his thrusts.
but he wasn’t thinking of her. ‘course he wasn’t. he was thinking of the first time he had you. you in your light-toned dress, you with your big, sparkling eyes. it would be there, beneath the moonlight of his monaco apartment, that he’d taken you to his bed for the first time. and that was the first time you’d ever came at a man’s touch, and lando wouldn’t forget that he was the first you spilled a name on your tongue.
how you voice was so iridescently sweet. how it curdled his heart into a bow, tying it off with a kiss. your scent had him stirring with craze, frenzied as he ate you out that first time, and nothing ever compared. your cunt was the nectar of his life, fueling him day to day whilst he could have you. when you were his. now he was a man running on fumes, on the oils you’d left behind in his apartment. there wasn’t much he could spare, but that fucking liked photo seemed to do the trick.
it’s enough to hold him over for the time being. the pace at which hips were thrusting increased, sporadic. his hand came to clutch the base of her throat, but samantha slapped his hand away. the wall would suffice, but knew you’d beg him to hold you. clutch you with your life in his hands, bestowing him the greatest trust he could ever earn. he’d have you tearing up, whining, mewling with pleasure from his hands alone. now, the sex was black and white, when you were the whole world. ripped away from his clutch, he’d be empty handed.
she shouted his name, “lando–!” while she came over his cock, tightening around him. he’d groan, forehead flush against the concrete of the wall.
he was reaching his own. those photos of you on your instagram. the feed of your soft launch with that fucking football player. how your friends posted the pair of you— how you were glowing in every light that caught your face. you were so fucking beautiful, so perfect, that he couldn’t help but cum at the thought of you.
but this time, he made a mistake.
it had been your name that flew past his lips when he filled the condom to the brim. it was your name that he grunted in her ear. not samantha’s.
she was furious. disgusted. she shimmied out of lando’s hold, tugging her underwear up and her dress down.
lando knew he fucked up. this wouldn’t be the first time, and ultimately, not the last.
before she left with tears streaming down her face, she had words. “you’re pathetic,” she spat. “take off that fucking bracelet. you know she won’t want you back.”
and then she was gone.
lando was left in the empty stall of the bathroom with his head draped against the wall. his breaths were rampant, coming down from the high of his orgasm, but there was no regret in his mind. there was nothing there except the distress of his memories, the titration of you that fumigated him, held him in a chokehold.
he fixed his pants, washed his hands, and glanced at himself in the mirror. sweaty, bloodshot, exhausted, he didn’t recognize himself. he didn’t recognize the man that was there; unshaved, overgrown hair, sloppy dress attire. this wasn’t him. he was nothing without you, it seemed, and it would drive him into the fucking ground sooner, rather than later. but he was betting on the latter.
aggravated, he let out a curse, “fuck.” before he left the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
when the both of you were in your beds that night, you tossed and turned. a whirlwind of emotions swaddling the both of your beneath the comforters, you kept checking your phone to see if he texted you. you wouldn’t ever say it, but you’d unblocked him a week after you broke up. you wanted to see if he’d chase you. but he didn’t. he didn’t.
he was on his phone, too, fresh out of the shower. waiting. looming on instagram to see if you’d like any of his posts, but he saw no activity. but he did see that his fans caught wind of your liked post. confusion was stirred, wondering if the pair of you were friends again. he couldn’t help but chuckle at that insinuation, because he was wondering the same fucking thing.
but when you both put your phones down and settled in for the night, you were consumed by your memories, and so was he.
you’d dragged him from the event that night back to his flat. when you opened it with the copy of his key he gave to you, you threw your bag on the sofa without a word. you made move to run right to your shared bedroom, but lando wasn’t far behind, and grabbed your elbow.
“what is it?” he asked, confused, and that only angered you more.
“you’re serious?” you said, mouth agape. you couldn’t believe he claimed to not have a single clue what he’d done. what this mess had been amounting to for quite some time.
“clearly, otherwise i wouldn’t be asking,” he said with a bite. “would i?”
you rolled your eyes, attempting to pull your arm out from his hold. but he didn’t relent. he kept his hands firm on you, keeping you settled.
“don’t be daft,” you hissed. he simply raised a brow, shrugged his shoulders. “how you treated me.”
he was still clearly at a loss, free hand coming to rub the back of his neck with a scoff. “and how did i treat you, then?”
your hands flew up with contempt, finally loosening his grip. “this! like this!” your voice raised. “first you hate to post us, and then you say ‘we’re not that serious’?”
that night you’d been standing beside lando, keeping him company with his mates, when they popped the question about the sincerity of your relationship together. you’d expect him to answer with a smile, saying that you were very much in love— because he’s told you that numerous times— but he simply batted the question off with a ‘not too serious, innit? here for a good time.’
“you know i didn’t mean it that—”
“oh…! here we fucking go.” you turned your back on him, head falling into your hands. you ran them over your face, “you say that. you always say that. ‘it doesn’t matter,’ ‘they don’t know the truth,’ then why don’t you tell them?”
he couldn’t believe what you were saying. that you didn’t trust him, didn’t have faith in the words he spoke to you in the peacefulness of your bedroom.
“we don’t owe them shit,” he spoke your name in a controlled tone, gritting his teeth against one another.
“and when i get flamed on instagram? twitter? for taking you away from them?” the fanbase that lando acquired was some of the most valiant people you’ve ever witnessed, but could also be the most brutal.
“you know how they are—”
“i didn’t sign up for that.” you retorted quick, shouting this time, which had his face going a ghastly white. “i’ve done nothing but love you. cherish you. and you can’t owe me the decency to speak kindly on my name. defend the ‘love of your life,’ — as you’ve so called me before!”
lando was stunned to silence.
“and what do you have to say to her now? while i get numerous death threats, how they’ll kill my family, tarnish my work.” you waited for an answer, turning back to him with your hands up.
he said your name again, stepping closer to you. but you threw your hand up in front of him, halting his steps.
“no. no. what would you say?”
lando swallowed the thick, anguished lump in his throat.
“i’d tell her i was sorry.” he took a step closer, letting your hand rest on his heart as he bumped into it. your lip quivered, finally coming to terms with how emotional you’d gotten. “i’d tell her that she means the world to me, and that i’m the biggest fucking mug she’s ever met.”
your breath stifled. arm relaxing, he closed the distance.
you began to believe him.
“and i’d tell her she’s more than what the internet says.” that had you flickering your eyes up. was he still not going to make a statement? “and that their words are meaningless.”
you raised a brow at his indecency.
“threats that they’ll find my parents? dox them, send feds to their house?” you backed away from him. he realized that he fucked up again, and that it could cost him everything.
“you know that won’t happen—”
“and if it does?” you were still firm with your statements, however desperate he looked in his eyes. “what then, when i get a call that my parents house was ransacked? what would you do, oh lord of fame?”
he took a step back from you as if your words pierced through the thick flesh of his heart. he didn’t see it that way, didn’t see how you saw it. the words of hate he received online were toilsome, ignorable, but it was different from you. you didn’t ask for any of this, and he knew it more than true that you didn’t deserve it.
but he made the discovery too late.
“that’s what i thought.”
you moved to grab your bag, your phone, brushing past him whilst he was locked in place. his heart was bursting out of the cage of his chest, his mind pushing him forward, but he was terrified. terrified that if the next words he’d say, you’d be gone.
“don’t fucking call me until you figure your shit out. i’m not playing—”
you were stopped when you were pulled against lando’s chest. his stubble grazing your shoulder, bringing you a greater comfort than you’d sooner die than admit. you felt his heart against him, racing with a speed greater than his car, and let the tears slip from your eyes.
“stop,” you shook your head, begging him to let you go.
“don’t,” he begged, not even sure what he was truly begging for. “don’t go, baby, don’t leave.”
but your mind was already made up. though his begging could suffice if the circumstances were different, but he’d already made his mind up, too. he embarrassed you, threw you under the bus, and allowed you to be tormented in the eyes of the media. you knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you also thought he’d defend you.
yet, you were met with radio silence on his account.
and nothing but an endless stream of apologies, but no solution.
“let me go.” you said. metaphorically, physically. your hand went to the necklace around your neck, picking at the chain.
he shook his head, refusing.
“lando…” you hissed, trying to weave out of his grip. you finally turned to face him, seeing the tears falling from his eyes.
you were crying, too. it felt like something was ending, though you didn’t wish it to be true. but you couldn’t let this media abuse continue any further, and needed to protect yourself, your family, when he failed as its guardian.
“don’t go. please.” he begged, forehead coming to connect with yours. you sucked in a tight breath, wishing to relieve him of his sadness, but your own was overpowering.
“i have to,” you said, holding back a sob. “i’ll be back once you find a way to fix it.”
it was enough to bring the formula one driver to his knees, falling to the carpeted floor. he shriveled beneath your disappointment, unable to keep himself afloat with your wishes.
“get up.” you hissed, wiping away the tears from your own face.
but he didn’t, and laid his head on your stomach, pushing his face into you as hard as he could. you could feel the indent of his nose, his lips. the quivering of his jaw, the shaking sensation of his fingertips as he wrapped around your waist.
“don’t leave me.”
to be continued
tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16 @strengthandstay @mybluesoul1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando x y/n#lando x you#f1 fics#f1 smut#f1 fluff#f1 driver x you#f1 driver x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fics#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fluff#f1 oneshot#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#formula 1#f1 fic#formula one#lando imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#f1#ln4
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Laurels
(Acacius x F!Sex Worker Reader)
Pairing(s): Acacius x F!Reader; Acacius x Lucilla
Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI
Word Count: 13.5k
Summary: You met him as a young soldier, brought to the brothel you worked at to celebrate a victory. Now, almost two decades later, his return to Rome in triumph sparks memories of your time together - and the secrets you still hold.
Content Notes/Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MDNI - Sex worker F!Reader; no physical description of Reader except that she is curvy and has hair (but this can be taken as a wig, as was common in imperial Rome); spans events of Gladiator and parts of the sequel; canon-compliant but no spoilers for Gladiator II; we love and respect Lucilla in this house; Acacius is a lover boy; period-typical derogatory terms for sex workers; oral sex (M and F receiving); PiV sex; mutual masturbation; discussion of pregnancy; forbidden love; secret marriage; discussion of death and grief; implied character death; implied that Reader is more sexually experienced than Acacius when they meet; references to alcohol consumption; some uses of strong language
Author Note: I've been thinking about and sketching out this story since I first laid eyes on Acacius in those promotional pictures released during the summer, but wanted to wait until I'd had a chance to see Gladiator II three times before writing it up properly, to avoid any issues with characterisation. I hope you all enjoy it.
I've referred to him as Acacius throughout, as that's what Lucilla and everyone else calls him and because we have no goddamned idea what he's actually called. (I've used certain tags, though, to make sure people see this. Hopefully. Maybe.)
There are some Latin/Roman terms used throughout: lena is the madam or brothel keeper; cella is the part of a temple dedicated to a specific deity; meretrix is a Roman term for a prostitute; mercatus is a market or shopping area.
The cover image is entirely based on authentic Roman mosaics and interiors: top left is a 1st century CE mosaic; bottom right is a 4th century CE mosaic from Sicily of a sex worker with her client; and background is the interior decor of a bedroom in Pompeii.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics.
Enormous thanks to @mescalpascal for beta reading this story.
Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.
The city has resonated to the sound of his name these past weeks. A hero of empire, of conquest; the perfect role model for Rome’s young boys, already being prepared from birth for war and glory.
Or, more truthfully, for death.
Today he returns to the city in glory, to be honoured with a triumph in recognition of his role in conquering the far-off lands of Northern Africa. The crowds are already thronging the streets, trying to secure their perfect vantage point to catch a glimpse of the victor en route to be crowned with laurels.
No one notices an ordinary woman in middle age, simply but elegantly dressed in her best clothes for the occasion, discreetly slipping up the steps and onto the balcony of a tavern overlooking the triumphal route. No one pays a woman like that any mind, especially not on a day like today.
You quietly secure your spot and slip down your veil, patting your hair to ensure the style is still in place. Why, exactly, did you go to such effort, knowing you’d be at such a distance from him? Knowing how many years it has been?
You take the cheap little metal effigy you’d purchased from a street hawker from your purse, gently rubbing your thumb over the crude rendering of his handsome face.
You told him he would go far. You told him he would be feted like this, one day, all those years ago. You smiled as you imagined meeting him again, showing him the tiny metal version of himself.
“See? I told you you’d be cast in bronze, didn’t I?”
A ripple of excitement courses through the crowd and it becomes apparent that the procession is near. They cheer and chant his name in unison. A mixture of excitement and fear grips you. Why had you done your hair just so, put on your best jewellery from your meagre selection?
Just in case. In case his dark eyes found yours, again, and bridged the years with a glance.
The rumble of chariot wheels and horses’ hooves becomes more intense, the cheering of the crowd more frenzied. You grip the ledge of the balcony in nervous anticipation, the golden metal of your favourite ring glinting in the light.
For a moment, it feels like being frozen in time. He is a god among men, the bright sun reflecting beautifully off the white and gold of his special, ceremonial armour as he receives the acclamations of the crowd. He’s uncomfortable, you can tell: that nervous wave and unsettled expression giving him away. This is not his natural environment, though you suspect he has had to get used to it since he assumed his command and since his marriage.
You are unable to make a sound as his chariot approaches, overwhelmed by the sight of him, the sound of the crowd, the way he is received and acclaimed with more enthusiasm than any emperor you can remember. He is still beautiful . From here, you can see the streaks of grey that frame his handsome face now, making him even more distinguished than you remembered. His tanned skin only serves to make the white and gold armour gleam all the more. His beard, neatly trimmed, is more grey than dark these days, lending him an air of absolute authority.
But you know that behind the guise of the conquering general, battle-scarred and triumphant, lies another man: strong but gentle, intelligent and kind, a man who likes to laugh and to joke and to love .
She is a lucky woman, you muse.
He’s almost directly in front of you now, and you can see in those soft, dark eyes the brave young man you knew so well, once upon a time.
His gaze shifts. He finds you.
His expression changes to one of surprise and… joy ?
The moment lasts barely a second before he has passed by in the relentless journey to his apotheosis. But you are left with his name on your lips, whispered like a prayer as your mind travels back through the years to the time you first met.
“Acacius.”
***
War is shit. But it’s good for business when your business is your body.
When you left your rural home for Rome as a teenager, accompanied by the man you were promised to, selling yourself was not part of the plan. But there’s little a girl can do, when her betrothed reveals himself to be a liar and a crook. He left you alone, without resource or recourse, when he was stabbed to death over an unpaid gambling debt.
You had certainly landed on your feet, all things considered, and with the benefit of a few years’ hindsight. The lena who ran the place was kind and understanding, the other girls bright and friendly, for the most part, and the brothel itself marketed as a cut above the usual fare for the average legionary, brought to the imperial city after a stint killing Gauls or Goths or whoever the enemy was that week.
Besides, it was even fun , sometimes. You, with your curves and ample bosom, earned a reputation for kindness and understanding. Sometimes you wondered just how many nervous young men had learned how to please a woman from a night or two in your arms.
The night you met, the lena had gathered the free girls together in an excitable cluster, hissing about the arrival at the brothel of a group of young legionaries from various parts of the Empire.
“Some of them are absolutely gorgeous , girls! And they’ve had a recent victory - you know what that means.”
Catalina, who never lacked confidence, grinned. “It means big bonuses.”
The lena beamed. “Exactly. Big bonuses, big tippers… and who knows, maybe big in other ways?” The girls roared with laughter as she clapped her hands. “Alright, neaten up! Best behaviour, now. And as usual with the legions, you’re theirs for the night.”
You picked up a goblet of wine, and you and your fellow whores struck your usual enticing poses.
“Heroes of Rome…my finest girls, for your delectation.”
***
His eyes find yours through the slew of pairings, dark as pitch but warm as fire in the low light of the brothel’s main antechamber. He is, as your lena had suggested, gorgeous : young, beautifully handsome features, clean-shaven; the strong nose and fine jaw universally considered the epitome of male beauty, wavy dark hair curling around his brow in his neat, regulation haircut.
And then he smiles at you. And you are lost, entirely, in the way his eyes sparkle and his open, kind face beams.
The beautiful boy would surely choose one of the more beautiful girls, as was always the way. But instead he strides through the melee, broad shoulders cutting a path with ease, and stands in front of you, a soft, nervous smile on his face.
“Hello, soldier. Where are you from?”
His eyes are warm . He seems kind. You feel a wave of lust coursing through you: if he wants you, you thought, you might really enjoy this one.
“Hispania,” he answers. “But we were fighting tribes in Germania.”
His voice, like warm honey, sends a throb through your core.
“And you have been rewarded with a trip to the imperial city! You must have been really brave.”
He chuckles, a half-smile on his handsome, tanned face. “I tried to be.”
His nerves are apparent in the way he carries himself, in the little glances he gives you, seeking approval. You take his hand, thumb stroking his palm gently.
“Do you want to let me reward you tonight, soldier?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Please.” He gives your hand a little squeeze. “But tell me your name, won’t you? I would like to know your name.”
You tell him with a smile. “And yours?”
His grin is warm and genuine. “Acacius.”
***
The yellow glow of the oil lamps illuminate the murals that decorate the walls of your chamber, and throw shadows from the fabrics draped over the low couch and bed. Acacius looks around, unsure where to sit, and you gesture to the couch.
“Wine, soldier?”
“Yes, wine. Please. Thank you.”
Goblets in hand, you join him and lean slightly towards him. It is impossible to miss the way Acacius’s eyes focus on your breasts, barely covered in the diaphanous folds of your pale, loose robe.
“Do you like what you see?”
His gaze trails upwards to your eyes, and he nods: seriously, with absolute conviction.
“Do you want to see more?”
Another serious nod. You slip out of the dress for him, letting the thin, pleated fabric loosen around you until you are revealed, naked and soft, for his hungry eyes.
One strong arm wraps around your waist while the other fondles handfuls of your tits. He holds you there, mouth finding your nipples, sucking and licking them until they are pert and pebbled and glossy with his saliva.
In that instant, you close your eyes, daring to imagine that this was not a transaction but real : that the gorgeous young man worshipping at your bosom is your lover, all yours , helping himself to every inch of you before he takes you.
“What do you like , soldier? What do you want me to do to you?” You move to your knees before him, putting your hands on his strong, tanned thighs and lightly slipping your fingers under the hem of his short tunica .
He hesitates, breath hitching, eyes wide as he takes in the sight of you between his legs. This isn’t his first time, you suspect, but something tells you Acacius may not be as practiced as some of his comrades in the art of love. The thought of showing him, guiding him, sends a thrill through you.
Your hands undo his undergarment and find his cock. He stammers, trying to find his words to respond.
“Would you like my mouth, hmmm?”
He nods, eyes trained on you, mouth open as you lick your lips and wrap them around the head of his cock. You move slowly, expertly; one hand holding him in place while the other caresses his balls, the way you know men like.
It’s not that you were forced into the profession, not like some of the girls sold into it - though Juno knows, you’d have preferred another line of work. But there, in the lamp-lit room with this big, handsome, polite young soldier falling apart at your skilled touch? It’s a fucking joy .
He whines and gasps as you vary the speed and movement, tongue flicking over his tip before you swallow him back down again. Acacius’s broad hand holds the back of your head as you move faster, taking him deeper. You feel his balls tighten as he falls back on the low couch, moaning and grunting with pleasure.
“I’m…oh fuck , I’m close, I’m….”
He comes in your mouth with a cry, head thrown back on the couch and beads of sweat glistening along his neck, broad chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath.
A discreet spit and wipe and you tuck your naked curves against his spent body, fingertips slipping under the collar of his tunic to trace the line of his shoulders, the hollow of his throat.
He blinks his ebony-dark eyes open, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” His exposed cock still glistens with your saliva and his come. “I didn’t mean to finish so quickly. I’m…I’m still dressed .” He grins, you giggle, and both of you burst out laughing.
“No need to apologise, soldier. We have plenty of time, time enough to go again, surely. I’ll help.” You rise from the couch and gesture for him to follow you to the bed.
“First things first - tunic off .”
You survey him now, naked, from your position on the bed. His body is taut and lean; too lean, perhaps, for his broad shoulders and long limbs. A few scars and bruises on his torso testify to his experiences in combat.
“Join me, won’t you?”
He settles close to your own naked form and his eyes move to your tits, pressed against the warm skin of his arm. You reach for his hand and bring the broad, calloused palm and fingertips to cup your breast.
You never forgot the fascination he seemed to have with your body. That first night, he traces the curve of your tits carefully with his fingers, playing a little with your nipples, pinching just enough to make you gasp, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh before caressing every bit of you in turn. The softness of your belly, the meat of your thick thighs and ass, the line of your hips, the flesh of your arms and neck.
Perhaps, you think, it has been a long time since he’s been with someone. Properly, that is. Perhaps his previous encounters were a more rushed affair, skirts hitched up to fuck hastily against a wall or a tree.
Now he can take his time with you. Wetness pools between your legs, anticipating him. You bring his hand to your pussy, guiding him to the little nub of pleasure hidden in your folds as you ride his fingers.
“You feel that?” He nods, transfixed by the way your hips roll against him, the way you pant and moan as you get closer and closer to your peak. “Find this sweet spot on a woman, and she’s all yours.”
He’s getting hard again, you notice, and starts to work you more quickly with his thick fingers. He looks to you for approval, warm eyes round and earnest, and you praise him with breathless words before coming undone on his hand.
“ Gods , that was very good, soldier.” A few strokes of your hand to his cock, and you know he’s ready. “Your turn, now.”
Acacius shifts his broad body on top of yours, using one knee to push you open a little further for him. As he breaches your pussy for the first time, he leans forward and kisses you: slow, soft, tongue slipping between your lips as you hitch your knees up and wrap your arms around his neck.
The young Spaniard fucks you deep and slow, his plush lips brushing against yours as his kisses mingle with both of your grunts and moans of pleasure. Such a display of tenderness is unusual here, where most men have one thing and one thing only on their minds as soon as they enter your chamber.
There have been plenty of young soldiers, plenty of officers, plenty of Rome’s heroes in your arms, in your mouth, in your cunt. Some handsome. Most not. Some respectful. Most rough.
Acacius is…different. You couldn’t explain it, not back then. Not yet. But you know in that instant, as he moves inside you and you look into his dark eyes, that there is something special about this man.
***
He comes to you every second or third night for the remainder of his furlough in the city, to the point that the lena begins to refer to Acacius as “your soldier”. You, privately, miss him on those nights that he does not visit.
He brings you gifts: wine, flowers, little cakes and sweets wrapped in pretty cloth. “You’ll have spent all your coin,” you chide him as you sit together on the couch, drinking wine and feeding each other the treats. “What will you say, if someone asks about the money you earned on campaign?”
Acacius leans in and plots a course of kisses down your neck, culminating at the fastening of your robe on your shoulder. He unpins the brooch and watches the fabric fall with a smile.
“I will say that it was money very well spent.”
***
The lena ’s knock on your chamber door is unusually early that day - not yet noon, you estimate, as you hastily finish pinning your hair and stand to receive her.
She smiles wryly as she leans against the doorframe. “You have a visitor .”
“This early?”
“Might I remind you that I determine the opening times of this house? Yes, this early, but…he wants to take you out .” She throws up her hands in response to your confused expression. “I know, I know, but you’re paid for! Put on something respectable, I doubt he wants you to look like a whore in public.”
You dress suitably, and fix your cloak around you before emerging into the large antechamber normally reserved for meeting clients. This morning, it is silent and empty, save for a lone figure standing with his back to you in the centre of the airy room.
He was a little broader, now, than he’d been the last time you saw him, eight or nine months ago. His arms and legs had grown more muscular, his garments evidently more expensive than the simple woollen tunic and cloak he wore the first time you met.
“Acacius?”
He wheels around and that familiar smile greets you like a beam of warm spring sunlight after the long winter. After a close embrace and a kiss, he stands back to take you in.
“How have you become more beautiful since the last time I saw you?”
You shake your head and laugh, cupping his face in your hands and rubbing your thumbs against the bristling scruff he now wears. “And you seem even more handsome and dashing, soldier. You look like the emperor now, too, with this beard.”
Acacius blushes bashfully. “Perhaps…in truth, it was my commander that inspired it, as he favours a beard too.” He smiles and winks conspiratorially. “But then maybe he wishes to resemble Aurelius, no?”
With a smile you lead him back into the main hall of the brothel and towards the door that opens onto the street. “The lena tells me you wish to take me with you into the city today.”
He offers a little bow in confirmation. “I do. I would like to walk with you, away from these four walls.” A glance over his shoulder in the direction of the lena sitting at her desk, whose all-seeing, eagle-eyed gaze bores into the two of you. He speaks a little louder, for her benefit. “And I have promised to bring you back.”
He gives you his hand, you open the door, and together you step into the bustle of the imperial city.
***
“Am I correct in thinking that isn’t a native Roman accent?”
You nod, looking at Acacius from under your lashes. “It is not. I am a country girl by birth, from a farm in the north.”
He smiles with satisfaction. “I have an ear for accents. Hard not to, when you fight for an empire as vast as ours. How did you end up here, then?”
It is as if he is speaking to a… normal woman, not a whore. You swallow hard, looking at the ground as you compose yourself to answer, not wanting to sully your relationship with this man with the painful memories of the past.
“I…was promised to a man, and he brought me to Rome. But he lied, and he cheated, and he died over an unpaid debt, and I…”
Acacius holds you in his kind, concerned gaze as your words trail off. Enough , you muse to yourself, I have said enough .
“And you…had to stand on your own two feet.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze that feels as comforting, somehow, as if it were his warm embrace.
In the mercatus adjoining the new forum, he buys little cups of wine and a jar of olives for you to share as you walk together through the packed marketplace and public squares. The tall column honouring the victories of the emperor Trajan casts its long shadow on the gleaming marble pavements below.
“Perhaps some day they will build a monument to you,” you suggest, a wry smile on your lips. “A great bronze, to the great warrior Acacius.”
He raises his eyebrows in astonishment and laughs. “A monument to an ordinary centurion? I don’t think so, somehow. Now, a statue of my commander , on the other hand, would be entirely more likely and more fitting.”
“You admire him, don’t you?”
Acacius sips his wine and nods. “He is the greatest of commanders and the bravest of men. Kind, too, away from the battlefield. I… I would die for that man.” He turns to you and grins, excited. “Have I told you that he is from Hispania, too? He tells me sometimes that we’re the finest fighters in the empire.”
You give an impressed little coo. “Have I seen this great man? Perhaps he was with the rest of you, that first night…the night we met.”
“He was not.” He takes an olive from the little clay jar, a wistful look on his face. “General Maximus has a family - a wife, a little boy - and such love he has for them as I’ve never seen. He is the emperor’s most loyal general, but in truth he would give anything to return home to them, for good.”
The two of you fall silent for a few moments, each lost in your own thoughts. You study his handsome features as you walk together: his strong, proud nose, now marked with a fresh, livid scar; his fine brow, knitted in thought; the line of his pink mouth, framed by his dark beard.
“Is that something you would like, too - a wife, a family?”
He nods and smiles as he meets your gaze. “It is something I would like very much indeed.”
***
You think of him, worry for him, miss him in the long months of campaigning in far-flung corners of the empire. Without realising, you have become part of an invisible sisterhood: yet another daughter of Rome who goes about her business and makes her living, but whose heart and mind march, always, with “her” soldier. For the first time, you really see the careworn women carrying offerings and lighting candles at the little street shrines or in the temples, muttering prayers to Juno for the safe return of a husband, a lover, a brother, a son.
You try to listen daily for updates from the newsreaders in the public fora, steeling yourself for news of a defeat. Even your work provides opportunities to stay abreast of the progress of the northern legions, as you hone your small talk with clients to focus on questions of war. Though other men might have your body for a short time, your soul is always and only with him , longing for the day he’ll be in your arms again.
He’s gone longer, this time. In your lonelier moments you wonder if perhaps he has met someone else, someone with whom he can have the family life he dreams of.
He is not yours , you remind yourself as you make up your face for another night’s work. He can never be yours .
A commotion coming from the direction of the entrance hall startles you: strong, confident footsteps on the marble floor; the lena ’s voice calling angrily after someone; and suddenly, a knock on your chamber door.
“My sweet, beautiful lady.”
Acacius sweeps you into his strong arms before you have finished opening the door properly, pulling you tight to him and covering your face with kisses as you wrap your arms around his neck and giggle with joy and relief at the sight of him.
“Your soldier hasn’t paid, girl!”
The lena ’s irritation is obvious even from the other end of the hall, her arms folded and jaw set. You break Acacius’s embrace and reach for his hand to guide him into the room.
“He’ll pay, don’t worry,” you call out to her down the hallway. “He’s been away fighting for a long time and he deserves his reward, one can hardly blame the man for being impatient!”
He’s waiting for you as soon as you close the door, cloak discarded and body poised to pin you against the wall as he holds your face in his hands and leans in for a long, slow kiss. He drops one hand and you feel your garment being lifted as his thick fingers make their way between your thighs.
“Gods, I missed you. I’m so sorry I was away for so long.” He sucks on the delicate skin of your neck as you whine with pleasure, his fingertips finding the little nub of your pussy, just like you taught him. “Did you miss me, my love?”
“Mmm, I… oh, Acacius !” First one, then two fingers slip inside you, and you struggle to form a coherent thought. “I missed you, so very much, so much.”
He fucks you with his fingers there against the wall, the sound of your wetness both lewd and erotic as it mingles with your pants and little moans. He’s still in uniform , you realise, wrapping your arm around his leather-clad torso as you pull him tighter to you. Gods, he really couldn’t wait to see you.
“I need to have you here, now,” he hisses in your ear as you edge closer to your peak. “Need to be inside you, feel you again.”
He withdraws his hand and turns you to face the wall, bending your body forward a little and caressing your ass appreciatively. The head of his cock presses against your entrance, opening and stretching you as he slides smoothly into your cunt with a low groan.
“As good as you remember?” You turn to give him a sly look as he starts to fuck you, deep and hard.
“ Better ,” he hisses. A broad hand reaches for your breast while the other grips the meat of your hip, holding you in place. “Been thinking about this, about you …every day, every night …”
His beard bristles against your skin as he angles his lips against your neck and shoulder, sucking and kissing and nipping at you. He’ll leave marks, you know that, and you know you shouldn’t let him, not in your line of work. But instead you just twine your fingers through his dark curls and keep him there, revelling in the sensation as you start to fall apart for him.
Acacius mutters praise and filth into your ear in equal measure: how beautiful you are, how good you feel, how tight your cunt is, how well you take him. The fastenings and metal ornaments of his uniform press into your flesh as he fucks you harder and faster against the wall.
You shouldn’t have let him leave marks on you. And you definitely shouldn’t let him finish inside you. But, more than anything else, you want him to make you his, really and truly, inside and out. As his rhythm starts to falter, a slight arch of your back and an extra tilt of your hips sends him even deeper and makes him come. His groans of ecstatic pleasure as he fills you with his seed are music to your ears.
***
You bathe together in the brothel’s small, steamy bathhouse, your fingers tracing the scars and bruises his strong, solid body had acquired since the last time you were together. Acacius hums with pleasure as you wash his hair and rub perfumed oil into his skin, pressing your lips gently to every mark and freckle.
“I love you, you know.”
Strange, how this impressive warrior could become so vulnerable as he says the words: eyes wide, expression open and hopeful, as he reaches for your hand and kisses your palm with tender reverence.
“I love you, too.”
***
Dawn breaks over the city and the early morning light reaches through your small, high window. The night was sleepless and perfect: lovemaking punctuated by conversation, by fruits and wine, and culminating in your two bodies wrapped naked around each other in your bed.
Acacius kisses you awake, smiling as your eyes blink sleepily open.
“My love is tired, I think.”
You arch an eyebrow and smirk suggestively. “Gods, I wonder why ?”
As you cuddle against his broad chest, you spy a leather coin purse resting on the table beside the bed. The sight pierces your soft, loving cocoon like an arrow to the heart.
He pays for you.
Before you can second-guess yourself, you speak. “You don’t have to pay any more. Unless you would rather continue to buy me…”
His expression shifts from confusion to concern. “What do you mean?”
“You pay for me, but you love me and I love you and…It was different before, but now I think our love shouldn’t be bought .”
Acacius smiles and pulls you to him, kissing your forehead. “I know, my love. And I agree, but… Don’t you think your lena would be suspicious, if I stopped paying?”
“She only gets a cut, either way.” A thought occurs to you. “Perhaps we just give her the cut she’d get anyway, for appearances’ sake? And I’ll tell her you gave the rest to me directly.”
He nods, reaching for you again and holding you close against him.
“Perhaps you won’t need to worry about the lena at all, any more.”
It’s your turn to be confused as you pull back a little and look in his eyes.
“I was going to ask you anyway, I’ve been thinking about this all the time I was away… I wonder, would you be - would you consider being - my wife?”
“I could pay off any debt you owe to the lena, to this place.” He hastens to reassure you, seeing the look of shock on your face. “And I have money enough to buy us a beautiful home, some land… I have been promoted again, since I saw you last, and now we have some time together until the next campaign, we…we could marry, be together. Husband and wife. What do you say?”
Your heart says yes. Yes. Forever and always, yes , thank Juno and all the gods that brought this beautiful man to you.
But hearts don’t make the rules in Rome.
You kiss him gently, twine your fingers through his, caress the dark curls that frame his handsome face. “I would give anything to be your wife.”
He smiles sadly. “But?”
“We can’t . Even if I left this world behind for good, I still wouldn’t be allowed to marry, and -”
“I have known men whose wives were once meretrices , it’s not always so strict,” Acacius interjects.
“Were these men imperial officers with a bright future ahead of them?” you ask, as kindly as you can. “At best, I could be a mistress.”
He frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t have to be an officer forever. I don’t want to do this forever, to wage war forever. So I’ll give it up, find another occupation, use my savings…I just want you , my love.”
His thumb wipes away the tears glistening on your face as you fight the sob rising in your throat. “I want you too, I love you too, but…you are under oath, under contract, are you not? They would come after you if you broke it, I would rather die than see you hurt on my account.”
Those beautiful dark eyes are resigned now, full of pain and all too aware that there is no way for this dream to become a reality. Acacius puts his arms around you and holds you tight to his chest, silently kissing the top of your head.
When he leaves you a couple of hours later, to attend to business elsewhere in the city, you turn over and weep, sure that you will never see him again.
***
Catalina knocks on your chamber door a couple of days later, anxiously looking around her, as if afraid she might be seen.
“I don’t think there’s a rule against visiting each other in our rooms, you know.”
“Can’t be too careful, now, can we?” She lowers her voice and beckons for you to come closer. “I’ve been given a message for you. From your soldier boy.”
You move quickly to sit on the couch, afraid that your legs might give way. “He…he came to you ?”
Catalina laughs a little too loudly, and claps her hand to her mouth. “No, he did not - sent one of the other legionaries to me, just so he could get word to you. Well, not just that, we did have a good time, me and young Sextus…” A knowing smile spreads across her face.
“The message . What was the message?”
She snaps out of her reverie and sits beside you. “Tomorrow, noon. The big temple on the Capitoline, at Juno’s cella .”
You nod, taking in the information and already plotting your excuse for the lena . “Catalina, why didn’t he come directly to me?”
“Apparently he was afraid you wouldn’t see him. He’s got it bad for you, according to his pal.” She turns and pulls you into a warm hug, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Good luck. I’ll make an offering for you.”
***
He’s already there when you arrive, standing at the entrance to the main cella and dressed simply but beautifully in a tunic, belt, and dark green cloak that only serves to emphasise his strong, broad build. You cross the marble floor to join him and he immediately reaches for your hand.
“I am so glad to see you, my love.”
You smile and squeeze his hand. “But why here?”
“I wanted to talk to you, and I needed courage - so I have made some offerings to the goddess.” Acacius nods towards the doors that lead to the cella of Juno, where priests busied themselves with candles, incense, and laying worshippers’ offerings on the goddess’s altar. “I hope she looks favourably upon me.”
“And me,” you add, and he grins. “Come, tell me. What is it that is so important?”
He leads you away from the cella and guides you through the throngs of people making their way to the great temple until you reach a quieter spot under a small portico.
“I meant what I asked you. I want to marry you, more than anything. I know, too, that the rules of this empire won’t allow it.” He takes both of your hands in his. “But I wondered if we could make our own rules.”
“Our own rules?”
He reaches into the leather purse hanging from his belt, and produces a small gold ring set with a polished garnet stone.
“If we cannot marry by law, then perhaps we might marry in spirit.” He places the ring in your palm, wrapping his hand around yours.
The bustle of the city fades far into the distance. In that moment, it is just you and him.
“You wish this, even though I cannot tend your home, be a real wife to you? In spite of my… work ?”
Acacius nods, hand still cupped around yours. “You will be a real wife, in all the ways that matter to me. And in time I will find a way for us to make a home together.” He looks into your eyes and smiles that hopeful smile you love so much. “And, perhaps, to raise our children there.”
“My work, Acacius. I would still be doing…what I do, at least until then. This does not concern you?”
He shakes his head. “It is a profession, it is not you, no matter what the law says. You do not mind that I fight and kill for a living, this is no different.”
You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t mind, but you are fighting for Rome , for an empire, not…selling yourself.”
“It is a profession .” Acacius reassures you, kissing you on the cheek. “And it is not forever.” He holds up the ring to you again.
Your smile and nod is his cue to slip the gold band onto your finger, leaning in for a deep kiss as he pulls you tight to him and whispers in your ear.
“I am yours .”
A passing temple worshipper tuts loudly at the public display of affection, and you giggle.
“And by Juno, I am all yours.”
***
The wedding feast, such as it is, is wine and sweetmeats purchased from a street vendor and consumed, picnic-style, in a quiet, secluded grove of trees near the river. He spreads his cloak on the ground, helps you down, and lays out the food before toasting you with the cup of wine he pours from a wineskin.
“You deserve a far greater feast than this, beloved.”
“This is already far more than I could ever have hoped for, my love.” You lean in and kiss him gently. “I only wish I could be a wife to you in the eyes of the law, too.”
Acacius shakes his head and strokes your cheek. “You are all I need, just as you are. Hang the law; I will find a way for us to live as man and wife. I promise.”
The dappled sunlight catches the garnet of your ring and you hold your hand up, delighted.
“It pleases you?”
“Very, very much.” You rest your head on his shoulder, both content in the quiet. Such pleasure, you think, to be here, with him - your husband , in spirit if not in law - away from the brothel, from the noise and the lena ’s eagle eye.
His hand drifts gently down your bare arm and along the line of your thigh as his lips find yours again. At your ankle, his thick fingers slip under the hem of your dress, hitching it up as his palm caresses your calf, your knee, and starts to plot a course towards your pussy.
“In public , husband?”
Acacius sighs happily at the word, encouraging you to lie back on the cloak as he moves himself between your open thighs. “There’s no one around, wife .” The bristle of his beard scratches at your neck as he nips and sucks at you, fingers already parting the lips of your cunt. “Aren’t couples supposed to consummate their marriage?”
You chuckle and writhe under his broad body as he pushes one, then two fingers into you. “Arguably we consummated this some time ago, my love,” you hiss, reaching under his tunic to undo the undergarment and stroke his cock. He whines with pleasure and fucks you a little faster as his thumb traces tight circles over that most sensitive, intimate place, smiling as you buck against him.
“What did you tell me, that first night? Find this sweet spot and she’ll be all mine?”
“All yours.” Gods , you’re close. “And I am…I am all yours.”
You come almost as soon as his thick cock pushes inside you, unable to contain the cries of pleasure. You give no thought or care to the possibility of being discovered here, of a passerby witnessing your lovemaking.
Let them see , you muse, as he fucks you hard and deep, fondling your tits through the fabric of your garment. Let them see how he takes me, fills me; how a man makes love to his new wife.
***
He comes to you every night, then, maintaining the fiction of a transactional relationship by having you give the lena her dues directly. She raised an eyebrow sceptically when you first explained the situation, but money is money, and if she suspects anything she does not let on.
In your chamber, you can almost pretend you are a normal couple. You dine together, bathe together, talk together. As he recounts his experiences with his legion, you realise the extent of his unassuming heroism and his nobility. Unlike many of the other soldiers you have encountered in this work, Acacius has a real sense of the human cost of war, of the humanity involved, whether Roman or barbarian.
“It is no wonder General Maximus has sought to promote you, my love,” you tell him one evening as you pour him another goblet of wine. “You are clearly a great leader, as well as a great fighter.”
“He has trained me well.” He sips his wine and looks bashfully at the floor. “He does not seek to waste good men like some of the other commanders; he knows the value of their lives. And we look up to him, admire him, for that.”
Your private connubial bliss must, of course, play second fiddle to the demands of the empire. One night, he arrives with a dejected air, explaining sorrowfully and apologetically that his legion is returning to the northern campaign immediately - far sooner than he had anticipated.
“I thought we had more time, my love. I am so sorry.”
You smile, shake your head, and kiss him. “We will have plenty of time to come.”
That night, the last night together before fate would make her intervention and change the course of your lives, Acacius is content simply to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him as he sleeps.
***
The emperor is dead, and the city mourns. In the public squares and fora the newsreaders proclaim that Marcus Aurelius, philosopher-emperor, has died on campaign with the armies of the north, and succession passed to his heir, Commodus.
The armies of the north . Your thoughts turn, as they so often do, to Acacius. His commander was close to the old emperor, you remember, and the heir had a rather more difficult reputation. You walk back to the brothel and imagine your love, clad in the fur-trimmed woollen cloak worn on campaign in the north, willing your love and strength to him across the many miles.
Emperors come and emperors go, but life goes on. A months-long series of gladiatorial games is announced, to mark the death of Aurelius and the accession of his son. The lena cheers when she hears the news, knowing that the attendant surge in visitors to the city means a boost for her business.
You keep abreast of political and military developments, as usual, via the more informed and talkative of your clients. Severus, a senior aide to one of Rome’s senators, is always happy to oblige.
“Quite the news from the north,” he says one evening, as you help him unwrap his heavy outer toga.
“Is that so?” Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you steady yourself on the table before pouring him a goblet of wine. “Sit, tell me.”
“A traitor general , if you’ll credit it!” He sips the wine and shakes his head in astonishment. “Cursed the new emperor, took off and left his men. They think he went south, to his homeland. A Spaniard, you know.”
Your breath catches.
“Do you - do you know the name?”
Severus chews the inside of his cheek momentarily. “Marcus? No, that’s not it, it’s…Maximus. Maximus Decimus Meridius. One of Aurelius’s best men, they say, but off he went, revealed as a traitor.”
He puts a hand on your thigh and leans in to kiss your neck, ignorant of the stunned, horrified look on your face as you try to process this information. He does not seem to notice or care that you barely react. You move into position on the bed unthinkingly, letting him strip you and bend you over so that he can fuck you the way he likes.
You barely hear his grunts and moans, barely feel it when he pulls out and spills his come on your back. He says something to you before he leaves, but his words are a discordant buzz. Curled up on your bed, your mind races into the small hours until you drift into a fitful sleep.
***
The weeks pass, the games begin, and the blood of men and beasts stains the sandy ground of the Colosseum day after day. The new emperor, out for blood and driven mad with power, seems to want to undo the work of his father with each passing day, starting by crippling the senate.
Information about the fate of Maximus’s legions is scant and often contradictory. Some say that a new commander has been appointed and that the campaign continues, as usual. Others tell of a mutiny in the ranks, of infighting and chaos. Still more swear that the legions will come south and unite in Rome.
“He’ll come and find you, I know he will,” Catalina whispers to you as she passes in the hallway one morning. “Don’t give up. He’ll come.”
The not knowing is unbearable. You make daily offerings at the little shrines and altars in the streets, praying that you might, at least, discover Acacius’s fate for good or ill.
As you pass a butcher’s shop, you overhear a familiar name, and stop in your tracks to listen as the butcher and his assistant regale their customers with the story of the great general who has become a gladiator.
***
“Where are you off to?”
The lena eyes you up and down in the entrance hall, arms folded across her chest.
“I’m going out for some air and to buy some little cakes, for tonight. We’ve got a while before today’s games are over, I want to take advantage of it.”
“Fair enough. Be back in plenty of time, mind, we want you all fresh and perfumed and powdered!”
You navigate the packed streets, stopping at the baker’s shop to buy a selection of the tiny fruit and honey cakes you like to have in your chamber, before turning back in the direction of the brothel. Your route is a little quieter and you know it by heart, making use of side streets and alleys to avoid the crowds.
You do not notice the hooded man standing in one of the doorways until he steps out in front of you. The parcel of cakes falls to the ground as you cry out with fright, and the man immediately kneels to retrieve it. His fingers caress the back of your hand, and in an instant, you know him.
“You came back to me, my love.”
Acacius lowers his hood slightly, eyes sparkling but alert to his surroundings, and takes your free hand in his, kissing it repeatedly. “Of course, my beloved. I have been trying to come home to you for a while, but given…” He pauses as he searches for the right word. “Given everything , it has taken a little longer than I’d hoped.”
He keeps his hood up as you open the door into the brothel, pulling you back to whisper in your ear. “I’d rather it not be known that I’m here, my love. Not tonight. Here, take this purse, tell the lena I’m a foreign visitor.”
You don’t ask for an explanation. He follows you inside, hanging back in the entrance hallway as you tell the lena that this gentleman approached you in the street and wanted to spend the night.
“He’s a quiet one.” She surveys Acacius suspiciously, and you pray she does not recognise his broad frame.
“He’s nervous, is all,” you suggest, as lightly as you can manage. “First time in the big city, he’s come from a long way off. Best make it a special night, eh?”
She sighs, nods, and counts the coins as you lead the way to your chamber.
***
“I can explain everything, my love, or at least as much as I’m permitted to say.” Acacius takes off his cloak and settles on your couch, pulling you to him. You press your fingers to his lips.
“After. Explain after.”
The lamps and candles cast a soft glow on the contours of your body as you slip out of your dress and gently sit on his lap, tracing the lines of his features with your fingertips as you kiss his face, featherlight.
“I hope I’m not too heavy for you, love.”
He smiles and shakes his head, mouth a little ajar as he takes in the sight of you. “You are perfect.” He tilts his head and sucks on each of your nipples, holding you in place around the waist, as your hand slips under his tunic. A shift of your hips and you are straddling one leg, rocking your hips back and forth against his strong thigh, gasping at the sensation as your cunt grazes against the warm skin, soft hair, and firm muscle.
He watches you, enthralled, one hand resting on your ass and the other squeezing your tits. You hold his gaze, then, caught in the dark fire of his beautiful eyes as you reach your peak and come hard on him, head thrown back and body quivering with pleasure.
“Gods, you are extraordinary.” He helps you stand up and guides you to the bed, tucking a pillow under your head before he strips off and joins you. “My extraordinary woman, I have missed you so.”
His beard scratches against your skin as he kisses your body, moving from your tits down to your soft belly and generous thighs. His lips press against your mound, your pussy, tongue diving into the slick that’s pooled between your legs.
“You taste spectacular,” he murmurs, shifting forward. He kisses you, deep and slow, so that you can taste yourself as he pushes his cock inside you.
“See?”
You giggle as he begins to fuck you, pulling in and out slowly and deliberately, making sure you feel every inch of him and he every inch of you.
The worries and uncertainty fade as you make love, bodies moving in perfect harmony, mingled voices gasping and moaning with pleasure, and sweat glistening on your skin.
After . Explain after.
***
“There are legions at Ostia.”
You pop one of the little cakes into his mouth and settle against his shoulder. Ostia . You like the way he pronounces it, the inflection of his accent.
“Legions?”
He looks at you cautiously. “Legions.” His face tells you he cannot say more, and you fill in the blanks for yourself.
His legion. Maximus’s legions?
“And you rode into the city on…business?”
He nods and reaches for the cup of lemon water on the bedside table. “Business, yes. In preparation for the games to come.”
“Can you stay tonight, or must you return to…?” You daren’t name the place.
“I can stay tonight, but must leave at first light.” He puts his arm around you and lowers his voice. “My love, there may be some trouble in the days to come. I will come for you as soon as I can, but…be warned. Be ready.”
He speaks with such grave sincerity that you immediately understand the stakes involved. “I will be ready, love.”
***
The commotion outside in the streets brings you and the rest of the girls into the main antechamber, wondering what on earth is going on to cause such tumult. There is no sign of the lena , though her ledger and pen have been left in their usual places on her little table.
Althea runs a finger along the edge of the scroll and emits a low whistle. “You don’t think she’s done a runner, do you?”
Catalina shakes her head. “She wouldn’t leave the ledger behind. Or, for that matter” - she gestures to a little box discreetly tucked between a pillar and the wall - “her petty cash.”
The sound of the main door opening hushes the gathering, and the lena strides purposefully into the room.
“Suppose you’re all wondering what’s going on, hmmm? Well, ladies, looks like we’ve got another dead emperor. No-one seems to be mourning that lunatic, though, unlike his father…Anyway!” She throws up her hands and rolls her eyes in exasperation as she seats herself at the table. “Just another ordinary, quiet day in Rome.”
You and the other girls cluster around the lena , asking question upon question as you vie for information. With a roar, she silences you again.
“All’s I know is this - he died in the arena, and it was that Merciful Maximus or Maximus the Merciful or whatever in Hades’ name they call that gladiator who did it. Commodus challenged him to a duel, didn’t he?” She sucks her teeth. “Not the brightest, that one.”
“Maximus?” Your voice cuts through the gasps and mutterings of the other girls. “Maximus defeated the emperor?”
The legions. This is why they were at Ostia, to overthrow the emperor and restore the senate. You wonder if Acacius has already entered the city - indeed, if he was there to witness the fight.
“He did,” the lena sighs. “Fat lot of good it did him, he’s dead now, too. Right! Back to your chambers, we might get a few boys in festive mood now that Commodus is gone.”
Your stomach churns as you walk silently down the hallway and back to your room. If Maximus’s legions had massed at Ostia to march on the city, and were already on the move, who knew what fate awaited them now that the general was dead, leaving a power vacuum at the very top of Rome? Or perhaps, you reason with yourself, the senate will work quickly to restore order, and will not punish the legionaries who were ready to stage a coup. After all, it was the senate they were fighting for.
One way or another, tomorrow you will begin the search for Acacius.
***
Trade was as dead as the emperor that night, much to your relief. In the early hours, you lie awake and stare at the painted ceiling, thinking over and over about the places he might be and where you should start. Sleep, eventually, finds you.
You dream that he has come to you, that he is calling you by name, over and over, shaking you by the arm until you respond.
“Please, my love, wake up.”
No dream at all. He is there, real and whole, sitting on the side of your bed. His handsome face is marked with dirt and grime, hands and knees grubby, as if he has come fresh from a long journey on horseback.
You sit up and reach for his hand. “Acacius…husband. You’re alive, you’re safe.”
He nods in response, until he buries his face in his hands and leans forward, head between his legs, and gives a devastated, feral roar the likes of which you’ve never heard before. You tentatively move beside him, fingers working to undo his cuirass so that you can rub his back through the thin fabric of his tunic. His big, strong body shakes with fury and hurt under your gentle caress.
Neither of you speak for some time. You try to ground and console him with your touch, your closeness; and in time his rapid breathing slows and he raises his head to speak.
“I would have come sooner.” His voice is low and croaky, worn out by a day of shouting. “I would have come…I had to help them, had to get the boy away, get him safe.” He looks at his grimy hands, as if noticing them for the first time. “The road was dusty, I’m covered in the stuff. I’m sorry, I…”
You shake your head and nod at him to continue. Acacius sighs despondently.
“I was in the arena today. Me, a few other officers, other centurions, all loyal to Maximus, the senate, the people. We wanted to be ready, to prepare for the others.”
He reaches for your hand, cupping it in both of his and kissing it with reverent care.
“I…we…” His voice breaks a little. “He died , there on the arena floor. Murdered by his own emperor.” He steadies himself, a note of rage entering his tone. “He was a hero of Rome. A hero of Rome . And that was how his life ended. That was his reward.”
He looks at you, features set hard, eyes burning with anger. And then his face softens, expression crumples, and he cannot hold back the tears as he buries his face against your shoulder.
***
You wash him clean of that terrible day in the baths, anointing his cuts and bruises with balms, ointments, and kisses.
He watches as you apply the mixtures carefully to his skin. “I did not know you were a doctor, sweet lady.”
“No doctor,” you smile. “Just some knowledge passed from my mother and aunts, about healing plants and balms. I like to keep a few with me, just in case.”
“Just in case?”
“In case I marry a soldier.”
When he is clean, you dress him in a plain tunic from the linen cupboard and take him to bed.
Acacius rests his head on your bosom as you stroke his hair, his strong arm draped across your body. After a time, he breaks the silence.
“How can I keep fighting, if this is the fate of a Roman hero?” He shakes his head a little. “And yet, I am bound by my oath to serve.”
You kiss his forehead and stroke his cheek, tracing the line of a scar. “What would he say to you now?”
He looks up at you with those pitch-dark eyes, permitting himself a little smile. “Apart from ‘how did you ever manage to get a woman as lovely as her to marry you ’?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Apart from that.”
“He would probably say that the dream of Rome is worth fighting for.”
“I think you have your answer, then.”
He does not seem entirely convinced as he sits up beside you and leans in for a kiss. “Perhaps.” Another kiss. “Or perhaps only love is worth fighting for.”
You lie down and pull him to you, happy to feel his solid weight on top of you again. “Aren’t you fighting for love, though, when you fight for Rome?”
“If only she weren’t such a cruel mistress.” He kisses your neck, tugging down the neck of your robe to expose your breast. “Gods, I need you, my love.”
With your help, he discards his own tunic and takes off your dress. He sits back on his heels for a moment, running his big hands up your bare legs as he looks into your eyes.
“I am all yours, Acacius.” You extend your hand to him, guiding him into position. “Let me help you forget it all, even if just for tonight.”
He moves forward on top of you, holding your gaze for a few moments as he caresses your face and strokes your hair. His kiss is tender but urgent, his hand reaching for your breast as he starts to grind against you.
“All yours, my love,” you repeat, watching as he moves back down your body. “Take me as you wish, as you need.”
He tries to take in every part of you with his mouth, lips moving with desperate need and grazing over your tits, your soft belly, your hips. One, two thick fingers slip between your thighs, keen to remind you what you taught him that first night together. You writhe against him as his beard scrapes against the delicate skin and curls that cover your mound, unable to stop yourself guiding him between your legs.
”Mine. Mine .” Acacius mutters the word as he hooks his arms under your thighs and buries his face against your cunt, nose rubbing against you while his tongue parts your folds. It’s as if he wants to devour you, such is the urgency with which he sucks and laps and licks. He runs his fingers over your dripping core and drops his hand to his cock, using your wetness to stroke himself as he continues to eat you out. He laps greedily at you as you come, your slick still glistening all over his face as he shifts forward and enters you.
He holds you down as he fucks you hard, fingers twined through yours, sweat dripping from his beautiful body onto your tits. There’s a desperation to his lovemaking tonight, a desire to escape his grief by losing himself in you - in your cunt, your flesh. He comes with a roar, filling you with life as he tries to rid himself of the bloody memory of death.
***
He leaves in the early morning, following military orders to assemble at the Field of Mars in spite of his misgivings and wavering loyalty. You make love before he goes: slow, soft, congress in the dawn light.
You watch him dress, sitting up naked in bed. “Be careful, my love.”
Acacius fastens his cloak and leans in for a final kiss. “You too, love. I will come for you as soon as I can.” Before he leaves the room, he nods towards a leather pouch resting on the table.
“That isn’t payment , in case you are wondering. It is my duty as your husband - some money, should you need it urgently while I am away.” He looks as though he would rather sacrifice himself in the arena than leave. “I love you.”
That was the last time you saw him, until he appeared, a decade and a half later, as a vision in white: the triumphant hero of empire.
***
The crowds have dispersed now, the city humming with excitement at the prospect of a series of games to celebrate the feats of Acacius and his army in Numidia.
The terracotta oil lamps cast a warm, comforting glow around your small home, nestled in a side street in a decidedly unfashionable part of the city. The brothel is firmly in the past for you now, as you earn a living making medicinal balms and ointments, using recipes learned from your mother and aunts. You prepare your simple evening meal and eat it quietly, preoccupied all the while by Acacius.
He had seen you today, you were sure of it. What did he remember of you, of your love, of the secret “marriage” of spirit the two of you had entered into? Had he recognised you at all? He had grown even more handsome with the passing of time. You were not sure the same could be said of your beauty.
The little metal figurine lies on the table before you, your fingertips tracing over the outline of the man you had loved so much. With a gentle sigh, you move to the corner of the room and retrieve a plain, well-worn wooden box from the chest that holds your most precious possessions. He fits in well here, this Acacius, nestled among carefully-folded fabric you have preserved like a relic all these years.
What might have been, in another world. But you have your memories, and your relics, and the comfort of having seen him one more time, after all these years.
***
A day or so later, you are about to turn in for the night when you hear the distinctive sound of a horse coming to a halt just outside your home, swiftly followed by a firm knock. A knock on your door at this hour is not usual , but neither is it unexpected or unprecedented. People have, on occasion, come in urgent circumstances, desperately seeking this balm or that ointment.
You reach for your mantle and open the door a little. “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll get you what you need, if I have it.”
The cloaked figure at your door chuckles, turns, and takes down their hood.
"So you really do live. I am not sure one of your fine balms could fix the problems I’m facing, dear lady.”
You steady yourself on the doorframe, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or touch him to make sure he’s really there.
“Oh, gods… Acacius .” You shake your head and correct yourself quickly. “I mean, General Acacius, I… how ?”
“Acacius, please. I’ll always just be Acacius with you.” He crosses an arm over his chest in a gesture of honourable sincerity, those dark eyes warm and oh so familiar, even after a distance of nearly twenty years. “May I come in?”
You gesture towards the table at the centre of the room and close the door, still not quite believing that he is really here , in your little home. He is no longer wearing the dress uniform, you notice, spying a simpler tunic and belt under the cloak.
“I have some wine, if you would like? Nothing like the fine stuff you’re used to now, of course, but…”
“Anything you have is perfect.” Acacius moves closer to you and reaches for your hand, pressing his lips to it and smiling with delighted recognition when he realises you still wear the ring he gave you. He seems reluctant to let go, caressing your hand in both of his as his eyes take you in from head to toe. “I am so happy to see you…I thought I would never see you again. I…”
Before he can finish his sentence, you throw your arms around him and pull his beautiful, broad frame to you in a tight embrace.
***
The conversation is light, at first - small talk, mostly about the triumph, about the campaign in Africa, the sheer weight of the special armour and cloak he had worn for the procession, his relief in seeing his wife, Lucilla.
You smile when he mentions her. “You are both very lucky indeed, I think. She’s much loved, very beautiful, kind… maybe now you are home we will see more of her in the city? She is missed by the people.”
Acacius purses his lips. “Her movements are…not always in her own hands, these days.”
You nod in understanding as silence settles over the two of you.
He sips his wine and takes a deep breath. “I came back for you, did you know that? All those years ago. I kept my word, my vow to you. But you were gone .”
He tells his side of the story simply, though at times he struggles to keep his emotions in check. After Maximus’s death, it was well over a year before Acacius saw Rome again. In the political turmoil that followed the demise of Commodus, young officers like him were deployed to various parts of the empire to secure the Roman presence - and, he suspected, to prove their loyalty to the litany of new emperors who followed in quick succession.
“As soon as I got back to the city, first chance I got, I went to find you. And everything was different - a new lena in the place.” He shakes his head at the memory. “When I asked about you, she…well, she said you were gone.”
You press your fingertips against the surface of the table. “I had returned to the family farm, I meant to come back, but…”
Acacius nods. “She knew you had gone to your family, but she told me you were dead . Said the news was that you’d died, a few months after you left Rome.”
He tells how he refused to accept your death. He searched for you as best he could, trying to piece together the little he knew about your life before Rome, before the brothel, before him . Dead end after dead end eventually convinced him, against his instincts, that you were really gone.
”I mourned you as a…a husband . Grew my hair for the period of mourning, didn’t trim my beard…” He smiles sadly. “I even covered my head and burned that linen tunic you’d dressed me in, that last night we spent together, in lieu of a funeral pyre. It was all I had of you.”
You reach for his hand, noticing the scars and callouses that were not there the last time you held it so tenderly. “I am so sorry, my lo-” The words came as easily as they did that last morning together. You checked yourself. “I mean, Acacius .”
He squeezes your hand and continues. “I kept telling myself I had let you down. Had I been here I could have helped you, made sure you were safe, protected you.” A sombre look darkens his features. “When I saw you up there in the crowd, for an instant I wondered if I was seeing things, if you were an apparition…reminding me that I had failed you.”
“You could never fail me, Acacius. Never. Not then, not now.”
You sip your wine as you prepare to tell him your side of the story.
“I left Rome a couple of months after you did, and went back north to my family. I had to go but I intended to return, because I knew you would keep your word.”
Silence, again, and you know exactly what he’s going to ask you.
“Why did you leave the city…why did you have to go?”
Another sip of wine.
“I was with child.”
***
When you were absolutely certain, about two months after he left, you packed your things and made the necessary arrangements. His money helped pay your way northwards and home - and paid off your outstanding debts to the lena .
“Don’t you have siblings who can look after your ailing mother?”, she’d said, already starting to count your coin. “Can’t be doing with losing good girls like you, these days.”
“Only my brother remains on the farm, and he cannot manage it and care for my mother at the same time.” It wasn’t a lie , not really. Your sisters were scattered, and since your father’s death the farm was your brother’s responsibility. And strictly speaking, he did have to care for your mother - even if she wasn’t ailing in the way you’d described to the lena to justify your sudden departure.
You looked carefully at every soldier you saw on the road north, hoping against hope that one of them might be yours . In a roadside tavern you even asked after Acacius, after you overheard a group of legionaries talking about Maximus, but to no avail.
At home, you were circumspect about your situation in Rome - and about the circumstances of your pregnancy. Pressed repeatedly by your mother, you told her the father was a young officer who loved you very much.
“And where is this lover boy, now that he’s got a child on you?” She surveyed your swelling belly with a mixture of irritation and resignation.
“He returned to his legion and we have had no word since.” Another not-really-a-lie.
Your mother rolled her eyes, but could not disguise the sympathy in her tone. “Tale as old as time.”
You did whatever work you could, within the limits imposed by your condition. And one day, as you rested for a few moments in the meadow, the sun glinting off your garnet ring as your hand lay protectively across your swollen stomach, you felt the child quicken in your womb.
In your lowest moments, you worried that your certainty about paternity was misplaced, given the nature of your work. With every fibre of your being, though, you knew that this child was his. It could be no one else’s.
You planned, originally, to give birth and raise the child to the point where they could be taken care of by another while you worked. At that stage, you assumed, you and your child would return to Rome - and to Acacius.
But fate dealt a very different hand
***
There’s shock and sadness and a kind of excitement, even, in Acacius’s eyes as he listens to you tell the story. Realisation dawns: he was a father .
His voice is hushed. “A boy or a girl?”
You squeeze his hand, as much for your own comfort as for his. “A boy. And your double, from the moment he came into this world - all dark eyes and curly hair and even strange little habits and gestures that I knew were yours . I…named him for you.”
“A son .” He seems awestruck. “I have a son . Gods, I wish I had known.”
“I am so sorry, Acacius, I wish I could have found a way to tell you, for you to know…but I had no idea where you were, how I could find you or reach you.” You swallow back the tears. “Truly, please forgive me.”
He shakes his head and leans a little closer to you. “You don’t need to apologise, there’s nothing to forgive.” He kisses the back of your hand again before wiping an errant tear from your cheek.
You look at him - really look at him, really take him in properly after all this time apart. He wears his age beautifully, from the lines on his face to the silvery strands of hair that frame his brow. Acacius has acquired more scars in his years of soldiering - across the bridge of his fine nose, a more livid, longer mark to his right cheek. But his eyes, in spite of all the terrible things he has seen and all the blood he has spilled, are as warm and kind when they look at you as they were the first night you met.
“I always meant to come back to the city,” you continue. “I thought we’d return once he was old enough, find you again, and somehow make a life together. And then my mother died, and I couldn’t leave my brother to tend the farm alone, and my… our boy was so happy there. You were rising through the ranks, too, and a woman and child would have been the last thing you needed.”
Acacius shakes his head, regretfully, and sips his wine.
“Did you tell him? About me?”
“As soon as he was old enough, yes. I told him all about you.” You smile at the memory of that time and tell him about your little boy’s bright eyes and dark curls, the wide smile on his face as he dashed here and there on the farm, chasing chickens and helping his uncle plant seeds. Your brother whittled him a rudimentary wooden sword, so that he could fight imaginary battles in the fields and cry out, with all the force his little voice could muster: “I am Acacius, hero of Rome.”
“He’s near a man now, I suppose?” Acacius looks around the room, as if making sure he hasn’t missed the boy somehow.
You close your eyes as another memory casts a long, dark cloud of grief and pain: a memory of fever sweeping the countryside, of the horror as your bright, clever boy fell ill overnight, of your desperate attempts to heal him. And that indelible image, the one that still wakes you at night, sometimes: your brother, tears rolling down his weathered farmer’s face, carrying the small body in its small shroud.
***
Acacius says nothing for a long time, just holds your hand on the table and stares at his cup of wine as he tries to comprehend what you have told him. He breaks his silence with just two words.
“How old?”
“He was seven.”
You rise from the table, gently squeezing his shoulder as you cross towards your wooden chest and take out the plain wooden box where you had placed the miniature Acacius a couple of nights before. Settling back beside him at the table, you remove the lid and show him the contents.
“Is this…” He smiles wryly at the little figurine, picking it up to examine it more closely.
“I told you, didn’t I? They would cast you in bronze some day, Or, if not bronze, whatever that is.”
Carefully, you take out the rest of the items you’d stored with such love since the day you lost your beloved boy. A small tunic. A pair of his sandals, still marked with dust from the farm. A wax tablet, inscribed with his rudimentary letters and numbers.
Acacius handles his son’s belongings as though they are the most precious objects in the world. He turns a little figurine of a soldier, carved from bone, over and over in his palm.
“He loved that one best.”
It is strangely comforting and intimate to sit with Acacius in this shared grief, watching him somehow try to know the little boy he never met through the few belongings he left behind in the world.
“Acacius…” He looks at you, eyes glistening with tears, and you fight the urge to embrace him again. “I think you should keep that. If you wish, of course, but -”
He nods, cupping the toy in his big hand before placing it with great care and tenderness in the leather pouch on his belt.
“I can carry him with me.”
***
Before he leaves you, you give him a jar of your very best healing ointment as a parting gift.
“For your next campaign, to help with cuts and bruises.”
He kisses you on the cheek, smiling as he opens the jar and inhales the warm, fragrant aroma of the balm. “I hope to get some respite from the battlefield for a while.”
You grin. “I’m glad to hear it. And I am so glad that you have a wonderful wife to go home to.”
His travelling cloak once more around his broad shoulders, Acacius bids you farewell and holds you in a long, tight embrace and murmurs into your ear.
“I loved you so very much. Always remember that.”
***
More games. More bloodshed. You stay at home, away from the festivities and the crowds.
Another late-evening knock to your door, and this time you decide not to answer. The games have brought a rowdy crowd to the city, and it’s impossible to know what awaits on the other side.
They knock again, firmly, clearly. Not the knock of a drunk, you muse.
You open the door to a young man, dressed in the typical garb of a servant, and a woman of regal bearing, dressed in a simple hooded cloak.
“May I come in?”
She leaves the servant outside and checks that the door is firmly shut before she takes down her hood, revealing her fine features and blonde curls as you gasp in recognition - and panic.
“Gods! I mean…my lady, I…”
Lucilla smiles that sweet smile so beloved of the ordinary citizens and reaches for your hand, attempting to steady your evident nerves. “Please, don’t be alarmed. I cannot stay long, but…may we sit?”
Dumbfounded, you gesture towards your simple wooden chairs, watching in astonishment as the daughter of Marcus Aurelius seats herself at your table. She nods towards the other chair, encouraging you to join her.
“I am very sorry for arriving like this so late in the evening, unannounced. I do hope I’m not putting you out.”
You shake your head quickly, panic and terror still written all over your face, and she chuckles gently. “Please, I meant it - you have nothing to fear from me. And yes, I know my husband came to see you.”
“He…I mean, I…I mean, we …”
Lucilla places her elegant, pale hand on the back of yours by way of reassurance. “I know. He has often spoken of you to me - and of his sorrow at not being able to protect you. When he realised you still lived, well…I simply wanted to meet the woman who meant so much to Acacius. We have a lot in common, you and I.”
For a moment, you wonder if you are dreaming. Most women would rather ignore their husband’s past loves, let alone want to visit them.
“You didn’t mind that he came to see me?”
She shakes her head, blue eyes meeting yours. “Not at all. In fact, I encouraged him to seek you out, after he saw you during the triumph.”
“I…I’m not sure I understand, my lady.”
“We’ve lived , you and I, haven’t we? When Acacius and I met, I had already lost so many people. My husband, my father, my brother…and the man who was my first great love.”
Lucilla looks away for a moment, emotion threatening her poise. She speaks haltingly, more quietly now. “And I lost my son, too. I was very sorry to hear about your boy.”
In that instant you forget all etiquette and protocol and extend your hand to hers, to comfort and to share the burden of your common grief. No more a former prostitute and the daughter of a great emperor - here, at your rustic table, you are simply two women united by the experience of loss.
“So we do have much in common, it seems, my lady.”
“We do. And that’s without even mentioning Acacius.” She smiles at you conspiratorially, and laughter fills the small room.
“It haunted him, not having been able to find you again. Not getting to say goodbye, to tell you how much you meant.” She pulls her cloak more tightly around herself and rises from the table. “I was able to bid farewell to my first great love. When we realised you were alive, well…I wanted my beloved Acacius to have that chance, too.”
Before she takes her leave, Lucilla embraces you, kissing each cheek. “Thank you for loving him so well, all those years ago.”
You nod, still not quite believing that this conversation is really happening. “And thank you , for loving him now. And for encouraging him to visit me. He…he married a very good woman.”
She pulls up her hood and moves to the door, pausing for a moment. “He has always had impeccable taste, it seems.”
A final smile and nod, and she is gone, helped onto her horse by her servant before they ride away into the night, and home to the waiting arms of a hero of Rome.
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Now or Never***
Hunter X F!Reader
word count: 2.5k
When Hunter spontaneously kisses you before he goes camping with the others whilst you look after the ship, your mind is set aflame. Both of you think about it and it's either now or never to see if there is a spark there.
warnings: warnings: Not exactly NSFW but is very steamy so 17+ only please. Spontaneous and accidental kiss, making out, brief breast touching, touchy touchy, non established relationship, female reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers, first kiss, one curse word.
authors note: a request for my lovely friend 🤍
"Have you made sure you've packed your canteen, sleeping bag, and comm device?" You stood observing Omega meticulously arranging her belongings in preparation for a camping excursion with her brothers, ensuring she's equipped for the night ahead.
The idea was originally proposed by Wrecker, who eagerly suggested taking Omega on a camping adventure in the wilderness, a proposition unanimously agreed upon by the others—except for you. Camping wasn't exactly your preferred activity.
"Yes, yes, and yes again," Omega confirms, playfully rolling her eyes before turning to you with a smile. "You're worse than Hunter AND Crosshair combined."
You chuckle and kneel down to Omega's level. "I'm not that bad," you tease, tousling her hair affectionately before rising to your feet. "But do be cautious, alright? Don't go picking berries unless you're certain about them."
"I'm not about to repeat Wrecker's mistake," Omega giggles, both of you sharing a fond memory of the time his hunger led him to accidentally consume toxic berries, resulting in a nasty rash.
"Are you absolutely certain you can't be persuaded to join us?" Hunter speaks and as you turn to him, you watch as he adjusts his backpack in readiness for the night ahead.
"I'll be fine. Besides, someone needs to stay behind to look after Gonky and the ship," you reply, giving the droid a reassuring pat as it waddles past. "I'll also tidy up around here. I wanna make sure it's neat and tidy for when you return."
A warm smile spreads across Hunter's face as he looks at you, a gesture that has become increasingly frequent lately. "Well, if you insist. Feel free to contact me if you require assistance."
'Me'? Not 'us'?’ you silently ponder, feeling a slight warmth tint your cheeks. "And the same goes for you. Stay safe out there and don't wander off."
"Can we get going before we lose light?" Crosshair interjects with a snarl, positioning himself between you and Hunter with an almost knowing look, as if he's aware of your burgeoning feelings for a particular Sergeant.
Hunter clears his throat, shooting a warning glare at his brother, who momentarily smirks before disembarking the ship, followed by the others. However, Hunter lingers back for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"Why the sudden protectiveness?" You raise a brow, accompanied by a smirk, though you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your chest.
"Just making sure," he reassures, offering another soft smile. "The others seem excited. It's been a while since we've done something like this."
Your heart swells at the sight of him finding peace, even if just for a moment. No empire, no war—just rest. "Well, stop lingering and get going before you lose the others," you prompt, playfully nudging his side with your arm, your touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.
"Alright, alright. I'll see you tomorrow," he responds, but as he turns to leave, a brief moment of unexpected stillness descends. Without warning, Hunter reaches out and holds your waist, pulling you gently toward him, and kisses you.
You don’t even have time to react because he pulls back abruptly, eyes wide with shock, and you find yourself mirroring his astonishment.
He quickly releases you, running a clammy hand over the back of his neck. "I... I don't know why I did that."
"O-okay," you breathe shakily, trying to steady your racing heart as you nervously fiddle with your fingers, your mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy.
"Sorry, I..." he trails off, meeting your gaze once more, his expression a mix of anxiousness and apology.
You gaze back at him, feeling the rapid rhythm of your heart almost deafening in the silence between you. "No, it's okay," you manage to exhale shakily, taking a small step back, needing the space to collect your thoughts. "Y-you should really get going."
He nods in understanding, but you can't shake the feeling of uncertainty clouding his expression. Better yet, you’re certain he takes a longing gaze at your lips before snapping out of his trance. "Yeah. Alright. Are… Stars, are we okay?” He asks, a little exasperated. “I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."
"Go, Hunter," you say just above a whisper, a mixture of confusion and longing tugging at your emotions. "I'll still be here when you get back." Your smile feels forced, genuine bewilderment at how to navigate the spiral of emotions inside you. It all feels like a dream, yet you're not entirely sure if you want to wake up. Or perhaps you do?
Hunter gives you one last lingering look before he turns and leaves, leaving you alone with your tangled thoughts.
Watching him go, you can't help but dread the inevitable awkwardness that awaits you in the morning.
Hours had slipped by since the departure of the others, and you had kept yourself occupied as best as possible, channeling your energy into cleaning the Marauder. Discarded bolts, half-eaten ration bars, and an array of dust and weapon gear cluttered the interior, making it a challenge to find even a patch of floor. Wiping your brow, you stand back to admire your handiwork, but now what?
"What do you think, Gonky? Nice and clean?"
GONK.
"Yeah, I know," you sigh, sinking into the pilot's seat and propping your legs up on the control dash as you gaze out at the night sky. But try as you might to divert your thoughts, they stubbornly refuse to stray far from the unexpected encounter with Hunter.
There's a lingering tingle on your lips, prompting you to idly lick them as you recall the sensation of his kiss. Your stomach flutters, and you run a hand through your hair in frustration. "It's just a crush... just a crush."
At least, that's what it had started as. Sure, you had found Hunter attractive from the moment you joined the team, but it had been nothing more than a passing admiration. Yet, as the months passed and you grew closer to him, undeniable feelings—on your part, at least—had begun to emerge.
So, the question lingered: why had he kissed you? Was it merely a spontaneous impulse, or was there something more to it? Of course, you couldn't help but hope for the latter, but his immediate apology had left you questioning his intentions.
Suddenly, a rhythmic beeping emanates from one sector of the control panel, jolting you into alertness. You sit forward, inspecting the display, and your blood turns cold as you spot a heat signature approaching. Rising to your feet, you arm yourself and position yourself at the gangplank, ready for whatever may come.
But your fears begin to dissipate as you discern the familiar colours of clone armor in the distance. "Hunter? What are you doing back? Are the others alright?" you call out, relief flooding your voice as you watch him approach.
"Everything's alright, don't worry," Hunter reassures you, his chuckle softening the panic in your voice, though it leaves you feeling more puzzled than reassured.
"What are you doing back then?" you ask, your stomach fluttering once more as he takes a step closer.
"I came to see you," he says softly, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that sends a shiver down your spine. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. It was driving me mad."
You swallow hard, feeling the nervous flutter in your stomach as your hands instinctively tuck behind your back. "Oh, Hunter, I told you I'd be fine," you manage to say, though your voice betrays a hint of uncertainty.
"I'm not referring to that," he replies quickly, closing the distance between you with each deliberate step. Your heart races, anticipation and apprehension mingling in equal measure as you realise the true reason for his return. "Your heart's beating so fast for me," he murmurs, his voice a quiet rasp that sends a shiver down your spine.
With each step bringing him closer, the tension between you becomes palpable, and you can feel the electricity crackling in the air.
"Hunter..." you begin, taking a step back to welcome him onto the ship, but your voice trails off as he enters and seals the door to the Marauder shut behind him with a button on his wrist.
"Did you mean to kiss me?" you finally manage to ask, your heart pounding in anticipation.
"No," he admits, his gaze unwavering, but a flicker of excitement dances in your chest as he continues, "but I can't deny that I haven't thought about doing it. Many times."
You're too stunned to respond, the weight of his words leaving you speechless, and you can only watch in disbelief as he closes the distance between you. His hand reaches up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
"Tell me... if I hadn't pulled away, would you have kissed me back?" he whispers, his voice barely audible but filled with a raw vulnerability that leaves you breathless.
You stare into his eyes, all your uncertainties melting away in the intensity of the moment. Unable to resist any longer, you lean in and press a gentle, swift kiss to his lips, pulling back with a coy smile. "Does that answer your question?"
Hunter's chest rises and falls with a mixture of surprise and longing at your kiss, his hands finding a comfortable place on your hips. "Maybe," he teases in response, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think I need to just..." he leans in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours before trailing agonisingly slowly across your cheek and up to your ear.
"Hunter," you gasp silently, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips brush over your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine.
"Yes?" he asks innocently, his warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin as it fans over you, sending a rush of heat coursing through your veins.
"It's now or never," you whisper breathlessly, your voice barely above a murmur. "Kiss me... kiss me properly."
With a surge of desire, his lips leave your ear and find yours, his hand cupping your jaw as you both surrender to the heated passion between you. Your back presses against the wall of the ship as you eagerly reciprocate, your fingers tangling in his hair with a firm grip as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of each other's touch.
Gone are the smiles and lingering glances, replaced by the urgency of the moment that ignites a fiery passion between you. Both of you are breathless, yet neither of you wants to break away. The kiss is messy, with teeth occasionally clanging together, but it only adds to the raw intensity of the moment.
In a bold move, he lifts your leg and hooks it around his waist, drawing you closer until his body is pressed against yours. Your hands roam over his armor, desperate to remove every barrier between you.
He obliges, a small smirk playing on his lips as he swiftly removes his armor, his lips only briefly parting from yours before he's swallowing your moans once more. "I can't stop kissing you," he grunts, his breathing heavy and intoxicating, sending shivers down your spine.
"Good thing I haven't told you to stop," you growl against his lips, earning a deep groan in response before he deftly maneuvers you onto the floor, crawling over you and enveloping you in his arms.
His tongue dances along your lower lip, seeking entrance that you're willing to grant, but you can't resist the urge to tease him, to show him what he's been missing for so long. Ignoring his plea, you gently bite down on his lip, eliciting a gasp of surprise from him, and seizing the opportunity, you take the lead.
He meets your passion with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated dance. Both of you are panting, and you're grateful that you had cleaned the floor beforehand. "Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs between kisses, his words sending a rush of warmth to your core.
Lips locked, one of his hands slips under your shirt, sending a tingling sensation racing along your skin as his fingers trail along your stomach and up the side of your ribs. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues his exploration, his touch gentle yet electric, until he ever so softly caresses your breast.
A soft gasp escapes your lips at the intimate contact, your body arching instinctively toward his touch as desire courses through you. With each delicate caress, the heat between you intensifies, and you find yourself completely lost in the sensation of his touch.
"More... please," you gasp into his mouth, your body ablaze with desire. He listens to your plea, his hand reluctantly leaving your breast before sliding back down your body. His fingers dance along your skin, teasing along the hem of your waistband, igniting a primal need within you.
Naturally, arousal courses through you, transforming this fleeting moment of passion into something deeper. "I've dreamt about touching you down here," he whispers against your lips, swollen and flushed with desire.
He's on the verge of breaking the barrier, your body eagerly anticipating his touch, when the shrill noise of his comm device, scattered on the floor next to your head, shatters the moment.
He looks at you, then at his comm, and back to you with an apologetic smile. "It's best I get that. Just in case."
You nod in understanding, suddenly feeling shy and bashful. But he doesn't move from above you, instead swiping up his comm and answering the call. "What's the problem?"
"We're heading back. Crosshair ate some of those berries that gave Wrecker a rash last time," Echo's voice echoes loudly in the cabin, interrupting the intimate moment.
"Fantastic. We'll see you soon," Hunter replies, cutting off the call with a sigh of frustration.
Despite the interruption, you can't help but stifle a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Hey," you say softly, reaching up to cup his cheek, "we could do this another time... if you'd like that?"
He chuckles, meeting your gaze with a mixture of longing and gratitude. "I want nothing more than that," he admits, sealing the moment with the gentlest kiss on your lips. "I, uh, I liked this. A lot."
As he helps you sit up, Hunter's movements are gentle yet purposeful, his attention focused on reassembling his gear. Meanwhile, you take a moment to smooth out your hair and adjust your clothing before standing up.
"Hunter?"
Turning to face you, Hunter's gaze is warm yet curious. "Yeah?" he responds, his brow furrowing slightly in anticipation of your next words.
"Thank you," you say softly, sincerity lacing every syllable.
His confusion deepens, prompting him to take a step closer to you, his hand finding its way to your waist as he draws you near. "What for?" he inquires, his eyes searching yours for answers.
Your heart swells at his proximity, and you meet his gaze with a mixture of affection and appreciation.
"For feeling the same way I do."
There were many, many sneaky kisses from then on.
More Hunter Works
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ꜱᴄᴘ: ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴄʜ
ᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ/ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ
pairing: past lover/SCP! san x researcher! reader (fem) feat. resaercher friend! mingi
genre: SCP au, horror elements, angst (there’s a hopeful ending i promise ;;), smut
summary: having seen everything under the sun as a researcher at the SCP foundation, you didn’t think much of SCP-1117. it wasn’t until he started appearing as your late husband that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
w.c: 3.4k
warnings: past character death, ANGST (i’m telling you now…), hard dom! san, bratty sub! reader, brat taming, cnc, san’s a heartless monster here so yeahh, he also has monster features yk (sharp teeth, black eyes, monster cawk), dirty talk, degradation/name calling, brief tit play, brief spit play, restraints, choking, rough oral (giving), deep-throating, kissing, fingering, squirting, like…so much cum…, finger sucking, rough sex, mating press, dacryphilia, creampie
a/n: listen ik it’s filth fest okayy there’s def filth in this but i also used this one as an angst outlet so just know this one’s got a little kick to it,, im sorry my lovelies i just couldn’t help it </33
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ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʜ ʙʏ ᴋɪᴅ ꜱɪꜱᴛʀ
0:01 ❍─────── 3:43
Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%
ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ
SCP-1117 was a curious one. Neither you nor your coworkers knew what its true form looked like, due to its ability of morphing into whatever it pleased. You couldn’t quite figure out what it truly was either. It was simply an amalgamation of pure chaos. One that you found yourself being drawn to ever since it began to replicate your late husband’s image.
Was it to entice you? Punish you? You weren’t sure. What you were sure of was that you couldn’t bring yourself to escape from its clutches, remaining at work during the late night hours, always telling your coworkers that you were simply running tests on it, when in actuality, it was running tests on you. Testing how much pain and pleasure you could take. Testing how much it could give and take from you without completely swallowing you up.
Oh, how it would love to.
࿏࿏࿏
“Y/N, you shouldn’t be staying here so late…and you shouldn’t be around SCP-1117 so often. It’s too dangerous…” one of the researchers you were closest with told you in a hushed voice inside the hauntingly white, sterile hallway of the facility, placing a hand on your stiff shoulder, his fingers squeezing into your plain white lab coat, hints of coffee still on his breath.
“Thank you for worrying about me, Mingi,” you began softly, looking up at him past the smudged lenses of your glasses, taking a sip from your own cup of stale black coffee. “But I’m getting closer to a breakthrough. I need this…The foundation needs this.”
“We still don’t know what its intentions are though…What if you get hurt?” Mingi pushed, concern present within his soft, though gravelly voice, studying you with his sad, deep-set eyes. He searched the pristine tile floor for something he couldn’t find, finding it even harder to look back up at you. “I feel like…ever since the passing…you’ve been…”
You offered him a gentle smile, reaching up to pat the side of his cheek, interrupting him, “Mingi, I’m fine, really. I just need something to focus on instead of the grief, and this is it.” Something inside you shifted, the edges of your facade fading for only a moment, causing you to push your glasses up past the slope of your nose. “Research is all I have left as of late.”
Mingi inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling like shit, causing him to bring you into a warm hug, whispering into your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, do what helps you.” He squeezed you a little tighter, as if you would slip away from him at any second. “Just don’t forget, I’m here for you, Y/N. Night or day, I’m here.”
You stayed still inside his grasp, wanting to feel comfort from his gentle, loving touch, but instead feeling nothing at all. All you felt was the muddled memory of what love had meant to you, before it was ripped away. You heard its muffled whispers inside your mind, felt it sink into your open wounds until they closed up with faulty stitching, forever tormenting you with what you once had access to — and yet, you found yourself longing for more.
“Thank you, Mingi,” you replied sincerely, slowly reaching your arms around him to hug him back, settling into his embrace. Before you even realized it, you had begun to hold him just as close, nuzzling his shoulder until your glasses fogged up.
Eventually, Mingi left you to your own devices, and you found yourself heading down to the basement floor, your high heels clacking loudly against the tile inside the large, empty hallway as you made your way to the entity’s room.
Once you pressed your keycard into the room’s security system, a small blue light flashed across your eyes, scanning your identity, before it let you into the vast, dark room.
Little by little, the plain room morphed into what used to be your late husband’s office, that in real life, was shut off from the rest of the world with a key, as you were never internally prepared to walk into a space that he had spent so much time inside. Here, it was perfectly clean and kept-up. Inviting. Warm, even. Not covered in thick layers of dust and shrouded in darkness, like in your reality. A reality you were relieved to have an escape from once again.
“You took so long to see me, honey. I’ve missed you dearly,” a deep, masculine voice called out to you, causing you to turn around and see your late husband sitting at his computer desk, wearing a coat similar to yours, his glasses slipping down his nose like they always did, a pout on his classically handsome, feline-like face.
“San, I’ve missed you too,” you called back, running over to him just as he got up from his computer chair, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Missed your touch.” It was then that you heard a slow, calculating chuckle ring out inside your ears. It sent a shiver right up your spine, your idyllic fantasy quickly falling apart at the seams like it always seemed to do.
“Oh, did you now? What did you miss, honey? My cock in your ass? Your throat? Or your wet little cunt?” he remarked filthily, the dark amusement inside his eyes reminding you that he was not your husband, and that this wasn’t the life you had. This was a cold, empty room, and you were in the arms of a nameless monster that wanted nothing more than to ruin you.
The feeling was mutual.
“I’ve missed it all. Need you,” you admitted hastily, opening San’s work shirt up to reveal his pretty, tan skin, simultaneously letting him push you back into the desk, watching him rip open your top, the buttons flying off and skidding across the floor.
“You’ll have me, slut. Relax.” San pulled your bra off, immediately encompassing your tits with his large, warm hands, squeezing them roughly and kneading them around, making you squeak. “Missed these tits of yours.”
“Yeah…? I bet you jerk off thinking about them when I’m gone. Pervert,” you tested him, hoping to provoke the beast, reaching down to grab his hardening cock through his tight work pants.
San sneered at you, showing off his sharpened teeth. “Why would I need to jerk off when you come here every night and willingly give me your holes to fuck as I please? Huh?” He lowered his mouth to your chest, spitting on one of your tits, before sucking on it sloppily, licking at your nipple with his forked tongue. “Or did you forget how fucking filthy you are?”
“Might need a reminder…”
“I forget just how truly mindless cock sluts are,” San mused to himself, flicking your other nipple roughly with his pointer finger, making you jolt from the sudden twinge of pleasurable pain. “I'll remind you, my dear.”
The entity suddenly swiped all the things off of his desk, from the large, ancient computer that your husband never wanted to get rid of because of the ‘lovely vintage aesthetic’ it apparently brought to his office, the various knickknacks he was never able to part with, from romantic poetry books he never got to read, to clay cats he made in the pottery class he begged you to join, knocking everything onto the floor so that he could place you onto it, with enough force that you felt a bit dizzy. With his hands pressed onto either side of the desk, San hovered over you, his now fully black eyes boring into your half closed ones, drool falling from his lips onto your flushed face. “Show me how wet you are, Y/N. Show me now.”
You obediently slid up your work skirt and lowered the lip of your panties, showing off your glistening, plump folds, your lips forming a playfully wicked smile. “Is that enough for you, 1117? Hm? Does it make your cock stiff?”
You both knew that you using his given name pissed him off more than anything, which led to him sending one of his fists straight through the desk near your shoulder, with so much ease, it was almost as if he was slicing through butter. You didn’t flinch, and he loved you for it. He loved his perfect little playtoy. You always knew how to press his buttons just right. Maybe that’s why he didn’t swallow you whole just yet. “You know, what does make my cock stiff is the thought of fucking that bratty mouth of yours until you’re dripping drool and my load all over yourself…”
“Well, what are you waiting for, huh? I don’t have all night, you know. The morning crew comes in early,” you deadpanned, your heart hammering away inside your chest, your mind and body vibrating with an excitement that you haven’t felt since, well, the night before.
“I’m going to be cumming early too, when my cock’s ramming down your throat…” San climbed off of you and moved your body around to his will, so that you were laying on your back with your head hanging off of the desk. He ripped off his belt and looped it around your wrists, tightening it up until you whimpered. It was then that he pulled out his long, veiny cock, the tip of it dripping obscene globs of pre-cum onto your face, some of the saltiness getting on your lips. “Y/N, tell me, did your husband ever fuck and claim your throat for himself? Or did he do something disgusting like eat you out for your own sole pleasure instead?”
Visions of your late husband worshiping your body like a temple, with love in his eyes and praise on his lips, flashed across your mind, filling your stomach with lead, just as San, the monster, the entity that you couldn’t understand, filled your mouth and throat with his large, pulsing length, not giving you a chance to answer, instead snapping his hips forward.
“Oh my god, that’s it, right fucking there,” San groaned gutturally, closing his talons around the sides of your throat, watching the way his cock made an obscene bulge inside it each time he thrusted roughly into it, amused by the dribbles of spit escaping past your stretched lips. “Hey, do your coworkers know that you’re a whore for SCP-1117? Do they know that you study the way my balls hit your fucking face every time I thrust into this tight throat of yours?”
You gurgled noisily around his rapidly moving length, his salty pre-cum leaking into your mouth, not even having the ability to gag anymore from the amount of times that you’ve taken him inside, your throat already used to the shape of San’s enormous cock. “Mmmmfff…”
“Uh-huh, I know, baby. I know how much you love it,” San mused knowingly, reaching past your throat to rest one of his hands on the opposite edge of the table to thrust more easily into your tight throat, one hand already on your messy cunt, his talons returning to normal hands, a wedding band present on his ring finger, eagerly rubbing from your clit to your slit just to hear your juices squelching through his fingers. “I know how much you love being a hole for me.”
You spread your trembling thighs open, bucking your hips against his fingers, your moans sending pleasant vibrations onto his cock. It was when he stuffed your cunt full of his fingers that your moans were near constant, your eyes rolling up into your head, drool sliding up your face from the upside down position you were in, drops of it landing onto the floor near San’s black work shoes.
“Your pussy’s leaking so much, baby, did you know that? You must be really desperate for my cock, huh? Even though I pound you into a coma every single night? Are you that much of a brainless cum dump for me now?”
“Mm-hmm...!” Your thighs suddenly clenched around his rapidly moving hand, encouraging him to force them back open, most likely leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin.
San let out a significantly more pleasured groan than the rest that he was letting out, his cock throbbing deep inside your open throat, sweat dripping down the side of his temples, his hair starting to stick to his forehead, his wire glasses threatening to fall from his face. “You’re such a pathetic slut, god, it’s gonna make me fucking cum…”
Clear liquid suddenly gushed past San’s thick fingers, your muffled moans crescendoing into an equally muffled scream, your thighs going limp against the now slippery desk. You closed your eyes, and for a second, you saw your real husband standing at his desk, proudly holding up one of his crudely painted clay cats for you to see, showing you his pretty dimpled smile and sparkling, affectionate gaze.
It was then that San tore you away from your brief blissful memory, bringing you back to reality with his wet hands closing back around your bruising neck, his throbbing cock rammed completely down your contracting throat. “Go on, do what you do best and drink it all for me, baby,” he purred, just as he unleashed load after load into your mouth, some of it spilling out and dripping along your sweaty face and into your hair.
You simply laid there, still trembling, your wrists straining against your leather restraints, doing your best to swallow the endless amount of cum down without choking on it. It was so much that you almost found yourself beginning to pass out from the lack of oxygen, too busy guzzling down cum to breathe, your brain and fingertips growing tingly. How nightmarish would it be for the morning crew to come to find you passed out in SCP-1117’s room, your body covered in squirt and semen. Though it couldn’t be much more of a nightmare than the one you were already living in.
Once San’s balls were sufficiently drained in that moment, he slowly pulled out of your throat and mouth with a lewd pop, lifting up your practically lifeless body and flipping you around so that you were on your back again and gazing up at him. His face had grown more monstrous, his curled, sharp teeth starting to grow into his cheeks like they were sewn into his flesh, his glasses now gone, his eyes, like portals to an abyss you couldn’t seem to look away from, unintelligible symbols carved into the skin of his neck and collarbone. “What’s wrong, honey? You look frightened. Is something the matter?” he asked with faux concern, a deep chuckle emanating from his tattooed throat.
“Shut up and fill me with cock, already, 1117,” you sighed, reaching up to rub the cum from your glasses the cloth of your shirt, simply smearing it around instead.
Growling animalistically, San grabbed onto your hips, sinking his sharpened nails into your skin enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips, positioning his hardened cock against your cunt, rubbing his cockhead along it, just teasing your slit, instead of actually giving you what you wanted. “You’re just asking for it, you goddamn brat. You’re lucky I love fucking your whore hole this much or else I would’ve eaten you up a long time ago…You’d be so…tasty…”
Just as San began to drool on you again, you reached your restrained hands up so that you could have your wrists resting behind the monster’s neck, his overheated body impossibly close to yours. “Eat me up, 1117,” you whispered near his lips, catching his mouth against yours when he lunged forward, his split tongue slipping over yours and down your throat.
San pushed himself inside the tight heat of your cunt, immediately getting to work, pistoning himself in and out of you like a well-oiled machine, having no plans of stopping until he was pumping monstrous amounts of cum into your womb.
You sucked and licked at his long, agile tongue the best you could, watching strings of saliva spread in between your panting, parted mouths when San pulled back. “Fuck me harder,” you demanded, choking on your spit when San rubbed his fingers roughly into your clit, watching him bring his fingers up to your lips, taking them inside to suck your arousal off of them.
“Relax, little slut. You already know I always fuck you within an inch of your life.” San suddenly brought his legs up onto the desk, using his obscene strength to easily position the both of your bodies so that he had you in a mating press, thrusting viciously into your hot, leaking cunt.
Your already loud moans began to grow even louder, threatening to somehow escape the soundproof room. You couldn’t do anything but take everything San gave you, his thick, impossibly large cock drilling so roughly into your squelching cunt, he punched a prolonged, breathy whine out of you each time. “S-aaaan, pleaseee…!”
“Please, what? Don’t tell me you forgot how to use your words. Is it because I’m in your guts, baby? Is that why?” San began to laugh evilly near your ear, his tongue slithering past his curled lips to lick the salty tears that began to drip down your cheeks. He thrusted once more, this time feeling your squirt dripping in between your sticky bodies, driving him to fuck you even harder than before, the desk slamming roughly into the side of the wall over and over. “Is that your squirt leaking all over my cock? Fuck, you always cum so hard when I use you like this…Makes me wanna cum too…Gonna fill your womb with my load, Y/N. It won’t stop dripping out of you until tomorrow night when I fill you up again, and again, and again.”
It was then that you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. You tossed your head back, getting lost in a bout of boundless ecstasy, finding yourself back in your husband’s office. This time, he brought you into his arms, enveloping you in his comforting warmth and scent, his kind eyes focused on your face. You couldn’t hear the words for yourself, but you saw his lips moving. ‘I love you.’ That was all you could ask for these days. Just a glimpse. Just a taste of what once was yours.
You were once again brought back to reality by the entity, his heavy, twitching body pressing fully against yours, filling your cunt up with an unending amount of cum, some of it having to spill out, drops of it hitting the ground.
San gazed down at you, his jaw appearing to be completely unhinged, long, jagged teeth curling downwards, easily able to crush you up until nothing remained, his large black eyes now multiplied like an arachnid, still staring deep into yours, seeing his own reflection in them. He stayed still, like he was debating on consuming your flesh and bones — though….if he did that, then his fun would be over. Without another word, San pulled your restraints off and climbed off of you, his horrific, vaguely familar form staying long enough for him to say, “Until tomorrow, Y/N.”
It was then that he disappeared, along with San’s office, leaving you cold and alone inside the seemingly empty room. Having been through this routine time and time again, you walked over to a locker in the corner, putting on a fresh set of clothes, fixing your hair and makeup in the small mirror that sat inside the locker, not looking at it long enough to realize that there were still tears escaping your bloodshot eyes.
You pressed your keycard to the door once more, the system repeatedly leaving a flash of red over your skin until you opened your blurry eyes wide enough so that the blue light could scan them and let you out of the room. Once you were back inside the empty, sterile hallway, you walked to the opposite hall, your heels clacking against the floor along the way, your hands inside your coat pockets.
It wasn’t until you made it to the elevator that you found yourself falling to your knees, not having enough strength to make it inside. Why you did this to yourself over and over was a mystery. Maybe it was the simple fact that you could still visit some version of your husband, even if he was a soulless monster. Maybe it was because you would rather punish yourself, than take the time to heal from what you lost. You weren’t very sure. What you were sure of was that you stayed in the dark long enough to see that there was always light on the other side. You were ready to crawl towards it.
It was then that the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal who was inside. Mingi stood there, his worried expression morphing into one of conflict, some sort of relief mixed with grief.
“Sorry, Min, I just…I couldn’t help it…I’m sorry…” you whispered softly, unable to speak more when he simply lifted you off of the ground into his arms. He held you tight, his warm body encompassing yours, reminding you of the person that was always with you, even if you couldn’t see him. He was there through the heartbreak, through the emptiness, through the fullness, the pain, the pleasure, the grief. He was there through it all, just a thought away. Even though he was gone in a way, he had never left you to begin with, and you knew that now.
You knew.
“Let me take you home, Y/N,” Mingi spoke up, gently carding his fingers through your hair.
“Okay,” you sighed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, hearing your late husband’s soft voice whisper something into your mind. “Mingi?”
“Yeah?”
With your gentle eyes creasing at the corners, you gave your dear friend a smile filled with warmth, a smile that the love of your life offered you time and time again, your shoulders feeling just a little lighter in that moment. You thought about the clay cats, about how they should be cherished again. “When we get there, can you help me find the key for San’s home office? There’s something I want to show you.”
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You Belong With Me- Ollie Bearman
a/n: I'm a year older than Ollie so that's why I wrote it. One day this will be taken down as will all my other writings but at least not for a while. (personal choice cause yk work and everything) -Im tagging this as F1 since he's signed to Haas.
Summary: best friends to lovers, Ollie is too dumb to realize he's in love
angst ish with fluff
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time
“She’s coming to a race” excitedly says to me while we walk in the paddock.
“That's great!” I say faking enthusiasm, if he weren’t distracted by the girl he’s talking to he would’ve caught that I wasn’t happy.
“I think I’m going to ask her out on a real date” he adds making my heart hurt a little more.
“Yeah, that’s great. Hey, I’m going to go see some friends.” I say turning towards where Paul was standing on his phone.
“Yeah-“ he says but is cut off by another message. Rolling my eyes I make my way towards the blonde. Feeling my presence coming up to him he looks up from his phone smiling.
“Don’t see much of you without Ollie” he says smirking and opens his arms for a hug which I accept immediately.
“Yeah he wouldn’t shut up about the girl he’s talking to so figured might as well see some friends”
“Oh yeah, he talks about her all the time. I’ve met her before and she’s kinda…” he trails off
“A bitch”
“I didn’t say it but I’m not disagreeing” putting his hands up in defense.
“No yeah, she definitely is a bitch and doesn’t like me.”
“Probably cause you and Ollie have a history”
“He’s my best friend, of course, there’s history”
“Yeah…” before he could add anything Kimi and Dino were joining us making Paul drop the topic.
2 months later
I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night-
“Ollie, what are you doing” I call out my window looking down at the boy who had spammed me to open my window.
“I’ve barely heard from you for the past 2 months” he replies looking hurt.
“Yeah…sorry” the last part being quiet.
“Are we going to talk like this or are you going to let me in?” He asks, sighing I push myself away going down to let him in quietly as possible.
“Ollie it’s midnight” I whisper as we go towards my room door, allowing him to walk in before me to shut it.
“I know but since when did it matter?” He replies lowly with a small tentative smile.
“Since it’s been months from the last time you came over late or even had a full conversation,” I reply turning away, sitting on my bed.
“Yeah” I could just barely hear, “just…I don’t know” he sighed staring at his feet. Looking at his face he’s trying to figure out what to say or do.
“Something’s wrong” I state, patting the bed, “come here” making him look up at me.
“I think she’s cheating on me, she’s just so different from me” he sighs referring to his girlfriend who has hated me for a while now.
“Do you have proof?” I ask, although we don’t get along, she doesn’t deserve to be accused of something she didn’t do.
“Kind of, I guess. Just she’s messaging her ex still, I think she went out with him today. Well, I know she did because of the photos.”
“Damn Ollie, that sucks,” I say looking down at my hands in my lap. “Are you going to do something about it?” I question
“I’m going to confront her and see where it goes.”
“Smart move” I replied looking up at him who was still avoiding eye contact. “Is there more?” Watching him fidget with the sleeves of his hoodie.
“I’m sorry for not being around” he quietly voice breaking a little.
“It's fine, you were busy with your new life.” I reply not meaning to be petty but he did ghost me, his “best friend”. He finally looked up at me with glossy eyes, “Don’t worry, I’m proud of you no matter what” smiling softly at him even with my own eyes feeling pricks of tears. Reaching out to his face I wipe his tears away with the hoodie holding his cheeks. Putting his hand on mine, keeping me from letting go of him, “I don’t want to lose you, I feel like I already did” sobbed holding my hand even tighter. Moving my hand to him, leaning on the pillow behind me.
I’m the one that makes you laugh when you know you’re 'bout to cry.
“I’m not leaving, at least not all the way” feeling him hold onto me even tighter, “I’ll always support you, Ollie. You can always text or call me if you need to.” I tell him while running my fingers through his hair, feeling my tears sliding down my face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Bearman,” I say trying to lighten the mood, earning a small chuckle from him. Pulling out of my hold, wiping his tears, “I should probably go before my parents realize I'm not there” He says getting up towards the door.
“Yeah, I’ll lock the door behind you so mine don’t think I just left the house open for robbers,” I say with a small smile.
“I mean it, you can text or call me anytime, you know I will try my best to answer.” I remind him at the door.
“I‘ll remember,” he says pulling me into one last tight hug.
All this time how could you not know
Looking down at my phone I just got a notification,
Ollie: I was right, she just admitted it and didn’t think she was wrong since I travel.
Sighing I respond
‘I’m sorry you had to go through that, Ollie. At least you found out now.’
Going back to whatever movie was playing on the living room TV. My parents are off on a date meaning I get to have the house to myself, although it’s not as fun as it seems when you’re alone. My phone's insistent vibration distracts me, realizing that a call vibration I pick it up not glancing at the caller.
“Hello”
“Hey…” Ollie’s voice comes through barely, “I’m sorry, I know you don’t want anything to do with me anymore really. I just miss you so much and this situation made me realize something.” He quickly lets out.
“Ollie I never said I didn’t want to be in your life at all.” I reason
“Are you home?” He says sniffling.
“Yeah, parents are out”
“I need to come over”
“Okay,” I reply quietly before hanging up.
You belong with me. Have you ever thought, just maybe you belong with me?
Ollie's knocks were loud and fast making me get out faster walking to the door. The second I open the door, he puts his hand on my cheeks.
“I want to kiss you” he mumbles leaning down slightly from the height difference. “Can I?” He breaths out
“Yeah,” I say feeling heat on my cheeks now but quickly distracted by his lips on mine. Kissing him back I put my hands on the back of his neck pulling him closer.
Letting go realizing he’s rebounding, “What was that, Ollie?” I ask genuinely confused.
“I’m sorry, I love you and it took that relationship for me to realize it.”
“Still confused”
“She said the reason she didn’t see the issue of her cheating was because I was in love with you the whole time. I thought she was crazy until I realized I compared her to you. Like the things you knew I liked or how you went out of your way to make me happy.” He paused putting one hand on my cheek again forcing me to look him in the eyes, “She’s right, I do love you more than just my best friend.” He finishes
“Ollie” I whisper shocked by what he explained to me.
“Please just give me a chance” he replied
“I can’t be your rebound, Ollie. My feelings for you are real and I don’t want to be hurt.” I warn him.
“You’re not a rebound I promise,” he says seriously.
“Okay,” I reply causing him to smile slightly.
“Okay?”
“Prove you will try, Ollie,” I tell him, he lets out a breathy laugh before pressing his lips to mine. Accepting the kiss quickly but I pull away making him confused. “As much as I would like to kiss you in my front doorway so my whole neighborhood could see. I also have a movie playing so are you coming in or what?” I tell him, smiling widely, he accepts my invitation following me to sit on the couch. Curling up into him like we used to do, this time there’s no feeling of confusion about whether he likes me or not.
You belong with me
“You know you’ve watched this hundreds of times.” He states referring to Coraline playing.
“Yeah, and I’ll watch it a hundred more times.” I smile looking up at him. Pulling my face closer he started to kiss me again, this time I didn’t stop it, or at least for a moment until realizing I could hear my parents coming in through the garage. Letting go I shift to have my head on his chest with my right arm wrapped around his stomach.
“Hey Ollie” they calmly say walking by us before going towards the stairs, “Oh hey try not to kiss in front of the whole neighborhood next time.” Before going up. Making me giggle remembering the cameras that watch the front door.
“I forgot about the cameras,” he says embarrassed.
“Yeah…me too” I added.
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A Balancing Act | Ch. 1*
Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.
Chapter Summary: Meeting Harry Styles at the hotel she was staying at was a surprise. But to have him invite her to his room for a drink was unexpected.
Warning: smut
Word Count: 17,748
Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)
A Balancing Act Masterlist
Harry remembers the days when he used to go into his therapist’s office for his sessions. But after fame hit the paps knew where he was going, learned his schedule, and he was constantly bombarded. And of course, the fans caught on so there’d be screaming people trying to get his attention as he hopped from his car to the back entrance.
Lately, though, she’d been coming to his house instead. She charged more for in-house visits but Harry wasn’t bothered by the extra cost. Her time and flexibility were worth it to him so he’d happily pay the added fee.
They normally sat in his office together for the sessions. It was always like chatting with a close colleague when he’d have her over. Harry would usually have pastries and green juice or matcha to share and they’d talk about their week. She’d even talk to him about hers a little. Which always made him feel so comfortable around her. It invited him to really open up and he learned to be vulnerable with her over time.
He'd been seeing her since his One Direction days which meant in-person visits weren’t always possible if he was traveling, but Pat took a lot of late-night calls and FaceTime time sessions over the years. And Harry trusted her more than he trusted most people. She’d earned his trust. She’d heard his deepest, darkest secrets and knew all the dirty details about all of his past loves and flings. She wasn’t a sex therapist but she often gave him advice that helped him in that department.
And today she was doing just that. Listening to him drone on about his last lover, the older woman with two children who left her fiancé to be with him. He felt bad about everything in their relationship – from the beginning, he knew it wasn’t going to last and it was only meant to be a quick fling. But then he did develop feelings (Harry loved to fall in love and it was usually quite messy) against his better judgment. And then when she left the father of her children it became even more complicated.
“I just felt like I owed her. She’d given up so much for me and it was crazy of me to feed into that. I should have told her then and there that we wouldn’t end up together but I think a part of me just wanted to have the stability. But instead, it just dragged on for too long.” Harry had recently seen her at an event and she ignored him, just as he ignored her, but that didn’t mean it didn’t affect him because here he was in therapy with Pat talking about her.
Pat tapped her pen on her notepad and nodded. She’d heard all this before. But the guilt he felt was continually bubbling up and pouring out in their sessions even though they’d been broken up for the better part of a year.
“Harry, let’s talk about that. The stability part. Do you feel like you still need to be in a relationship to be stable? We’ve worked on this in the past and it sounds like that’s still a constant in your romantic attitude.”
Harry knew he was someone that just loved being with someone. Long-term, a week, a night… he just enjoyed the attention and he loved giving attention. And he was good at it. Well, he gave a lot of himself even if the relationship wasn’t serious. That’s just how he was.
“I know I need to be more confident to be alone and not have someone in my bed or my life all the time. I mean, I haven’t even had sex in like, a month.”
Pat laughed and shook her head, “I know Harry. And probably the whole world too. I know how hard that is for you – to never be able to have any privacy even if it’s just something fun," she paused as nodded, "And so a month... That's not really that long, but I’m assuming you’re referring to the model you were with in Tokyo about month ago? Pictures of you two were plastered everywhere.”
Harry nodded and chuckled, “Oh yeah. That was just… we were drunk so I wasn’t careful but I had fun ya know? I just want to be able to have fun and not deal with the public knowing that we probably fucked. Or all the weird speculation. It’s not anyone’s business. Sometimes I make mistakes and get caught in public but it’s tiresome. I want to be able to go out and do normal things but I can’t.”
Again, these were all things Pat knew about and had heard verbatim. She truly felt for him, though. Was even protective of him as if he were her son. Harry was so charming and likable and just a genuinely nice person that it was hard not to feel like he needed protecting at times.
But what could she do? He was a grown man now. A grown man who enjoyed love and all the kinds of things that went with it. But more than that he loved his job. Which was where the biggest problem lie. Harry’s job was a drawback for most people he’d attempted a relationship with. Some could handle the long distance, the frequent flights and stays at hotels, eating and dressing and showering on the road, screaming fans, women and men throwing themselves at him, stalking him, feeling entitled to his attention when he was out in public eating breakfast.
And he’d never give any of it up for a relationship. But that didn’t make it easy. Harry hardly remembered what it used to be like before he became famous. He was catapulted into the limelight as a teenager and was in one of the most popular boybands the world had ever known. But when he went off on his own for a solo career, assembled a talented group for his band, cut off his long hair, and began writing songs and crooning in well-fitted suits in small venues and theaters his fame rose year by year. Every album he put out was more popular than the one before.
With fame came flocks of fans. Who were willing to do nearly anything to get a glimpse up close of the charming boy with big green eyes, sweet dimples, and a deep voice. So yeah. Relationships suffered.
“You always have the option to just stop. Finish off your contract and then forget about fame. But you don’t want that. So doing normal things in public will be hard while you’re so famous.”
“I know. I wouldn’t want to stop. I love what I do. Just wish I had more privacy.”
“But I’m proud that you’re not isolating like you did for a while there. Wouldn’t even answer my calls for some time. Remember? You’re doing okay now, though. I think you’re improving. Your fame continues to grow and you are adjusting to it.”
Harry nodded, “Yeah. That was a rough go. Not being able to see family or close friends during the pandemic really got to me. I am still surprised by how I responded to that all that. Doesn’t feel like that was me, you know? Feels like such a long time ago.”
“It affected many people in ways they hadn’t realized it would. People who had never struggled with depression or drug use before had to fight for their lives to get better.”
“Yeah… I was just alone with all those thoughts. Missing… her. I even called her one night. Don’t remember the conversation because I had taken sleep pills right before but saw that I’d called her the night before when I looked through my phone. Realized it was bad then.”
“Camille?”
Harry shifted in his seat and sighed. He didn’t like to say her name. That had been the hardest breakup. Because he really loved her. It no longer stung like it used to but he thought of her often, “She had a boyfriend of course. Still does. And he’s far better for her. Can go with her whenever and wherever. And I couldn’t because I was so busy. And she couldn’t come with me either because she’s got her own acting and modeling career. Just… I’m okay with that all now. But there were nights when I was alone in that big house and I couldn’t stop picking apart all the things that went wrong between us.”
“Too much time to think. Even I dealt with overthinking and dwelling.”
Harry glanced at Pat and smiled, “We’re all so similar. Us humans. Even we can surprise ourselves at times by torturing our brains and combing over details long past.”
Pat was proud of how insightful Harry was and how far he'd come.
. . .
Harry’s next show was in Chicago. He was getting himself pumped up for stage time. His outfit was being tailored once again, his hair styled, a bit of bronzer and highlighter, moisturizer on his arms and torso, lips stained a deep berry shade, nails painted lavender…
Music and his fans and being on stage were Harry’s favorite things. Well, he had another favorite thing that he could have that very night. It was easy when he was on stage and singing his heart out. A little eye contact and a raised brow to the cute curvy girl with the big tits at the front of pit, a hand wave and a wink, a tequila ordered for the pretty blond in the balcony seats he had a good view of, or calling out the tall guy in the middle of his concert and continually flirting with him in front of thousands (millions after the videos made it to social media). It was easy. Harry just had it so he could really have his pick, for the most part. If he wanted.
And like every one of his sets, at the end he was exhausted yet pumped with adrenaline. Meeting some of his lucky fans and taking pictures backstage was par for the course. Nothing out of the ordinary for a night after a concert.
But he had another show the following evening and so Jeff was giving him the signal it was time to head out and get back to his hotel so he could call it a night. The morning of a show was always early for rehearsing, a good workout, an ice bath, meditation…
Harry was ushered into the back entrance of the posh hotel he was staying at and used the freight elevator to get to the top floor to his room without anyone seeing him. Which he hated. He hated having to hide and duck away from fans. Hated being treated like a big secret no matter where he went. But on the other side of the coin, he cherished his privacy so it was necessary.
Jeff left him alone after Harry settled into his suite. He had the TV on and was about to call his mom because she’d be up at that time, but then there was a knock at his door. It was past 12:30 am so he couldn’t imagine who it would be.
Harry slowly opened the door to see a hotel employee standing with a bouquet of flowers, “These were sent here earlier, Mr. Styles, but we forgot to put them in your room. My apologies for the mistake.”
Harry took the bouquet and smiled at the young man, slipping him a tip and telling him not to worry.
Pulling the card out of the flowers he put the lovely bouquet down on the buffet and opened it to find out who it was from.
“We miss you, H. Hope you’re well. Love XX”
It was his ex. The one he’d wasted nearly two years with. He’d gotten to know her children and this card was meant to pull at his heartstrings with the ‘we miss you’. And it worked. The guilt built up again. He didn’t miss her or their relationship, but the guilt he carried for everything that happened to them during and even after was upsetting. He just wished his life was truly private like a normal guy. And then maybe he could move on and get real closure.
And against Jeff’s advice, Harry decided to go down to the hotel bar by himself which would be open for another couple of hours. A drink would help. Maybe a chat with someone nice. He hoped there weren’t any crazy fans down there but he’d rather risk that than sitting alone in his suite for another minute.
The bar was mostly empty. There were a few couples at tables, some individuals sitting and drinking at the bar. Harry grabbed a small table near the front with a good view of the bar and was greeted quickly to get his order.
He looked around casually and realized no one seemed to notice him. It felt nice. A moment of peace in public without anyone snapping photos or taking videos.
Across from his small table was a woman he suddenly took note of. She was dressed smartly. A silky green blouse tucked into charcoal trousers. She was looking at her phone and sipping a cocktail of some sort. She was pretty with delicate features and he couldn’t help himself when he noticed her pretty round bottom taking up the stool she sat on. Harry wasn’t a pervert but he had the perfect view of her. He was just a man after all and he appreciated beautiful women and men at times.
The server brought his drink to him and grinned widely, “Enjoy your whisky neat, Mr. Styles.”
Suddenly the woman turned her head and made eye contact with Harry. Her eyes widened before she quickly looked back down at her phone. She recognized him. Harry knew right away. But he was intrigued that she looked away. He decided to get her attention.
“Wish I could do that.”
The woman lifted her head and turned to look at Harry, confusion on her face as she looked behind herself and then back to Harry, “Sorry, are you speaking to me?”
Harry chuckled, “Of course I am.”
She set her cell phone down and tilted her head as she turned toward him, “You wish you could do what?”
Harry nodded toward the cell phone she had on the table, “Scroll through social media so casually.”
She stitched her brows together as she looked down at her phone and then back to Harry, “What makes you think I was scrolling through social media?”
Harry laughed and he guessed that was a fair question, “You’re right. I guess I don’t know what you’re looking at. Sorry if I offended,” he lifted his glass up toward her and then took a sip.
She smiled and lifted her own glass and then took a sip in response.
But now Harry was very interested. He wondered what she was looking at but also found her response to be refreshing. Instead of fawning she was smart and snappy with him. Even though she clearly recognized him, she wasn’t giggling and asking for an autograph or a photo.
He stood up and took a chance to ask if he could join her. He knew it was gutsy but he was rarely turned down and the woman was intriguing.
“Mind if I sit here with you? A little company is nice.”
Now Y/n was very much feeling her nerves peak when she realized Harry Styles was sitting next to her table. And then he’d made conversation with her. She was surprised he was speaking to her at all and now here he was asking to sit with her. She had no reason to say no. So when she nodded and he pulled the stool out that was closest to hers and placed his whisky on the table she swallowed down the bubbling nerves and called on her natural self-confidence. She was a confident woman. She was successful and lived a good life that she worked hard for. She was smart and grounded. But she was also hyper-aware that she was not his type. So even if for the briefest moment she thought she caught him looking at her ass she had to have been wrong.
Their conversation was surprisingly fascinating to her. She imagined he’d have a lot of things to say but she didn’t realize he was such a deep and interesting person. His insight was very spot on and he was sensitive and a good listener.
When the server came over and told them it was last call they both ordered one more drink. Y/n wasn’t ready to call it a night and neither was Harry.
“So, what are you here for, in Chicago, exactly?”
“Oh, there is an art show this weekend. I, uh… I have a bunch of my pieces at the Carrie Secrist Gallery right now.”
Harry paused. She mentioned she was an artist but he didn’t realize she was here for work, “Wow. Really? Carrie Secrist Gallery,” he said the name of the gallery quietly as if to catalog the information, “So will you be here tomorrow night again?”
“Yes. Booked the room for the weekend. I leave Sunday afternoon. Hopefully, my work gets all sold so I don’t have to repack and ship it back home.”
Harry nodded and watched her lips as she spoke and then her eyes. He couldn’t stop from letting his gaze drop to her plush lips. And Y/n noticed it too. It had her palms sweating. Maybe it was just the alcohol.
“Would you want to come to my show tomorrow evening? I can get you some really good seats – two if you’d like to bring anyone. I’d love it if you came. Maybe after we could do this again,” he gestured around them.
She was momentarily stunned. It was so out of the blue, unexpected. But it was also only an invitation to his concert. Which… still… this was a personal invite from Harry Styles and an opening to see him afterward which was quite something.
His green eyes and the smile on his pink lips were so close to her. She felt like suddenly with the way he was eyeing her that perhaps there was more to his invite. She’d been pushing that feeling down since he asked to sit with her but now it was glaring. Obvious. It was obvious that he was seeking something else. Maybe a quick one-night thing before he left for his next destination.
“What time would I need to get there?”
“Show starts at 7 with the opener.”
“Hmm… the gallery where I'm showing my art doesn't close til 7. I’d be getting there too late-“
“Well just come after that’s over. I’d still love to see you even if you’re a little late.”
She nodded and tried to rationalize everything. Could she really do this? Perhaps it was nothing at all but this didn’t feel like nothing and her instincts were usually spot on. She had no reason to say no except that he was super famous and what would it all look like logistically? But looking back at his face she just saw a handsome, confident man. There didn’t need to be any strings attached or consequences. It could be fun, “Sure. That could work. But it would just be me. Anyone I’d want to bring wouldn’t be able to make it in time for tomorrow night.”
Harry’s grin widened and his famous dimples dug into his cheeks, “Even better.”
. . .
Y/n had a hard time sleeping that night. She was hoping to have a couple of drinks to wind down after the adrenaline of the gallery showing. Her evening had been excellent. She sold some of her most expensive pieces, had a fabulous dinner with the curator and a couple of other artists, and then met and had drinks with Harry Styles.
The following day at the gallery she was on fire as well. Her good mood was contagious and every one of her paintings sold. She was asked to dinner again after the gallery closed but this time she declined, citing a concert to get to as her reason for skipping out.
She received a text halfway through her day as promised with a link to the details of her ticket retrieval at the will-call window. Lifting her phone up to the person manning the booth she showed them the QR code and watched on as they called someone and got off the phone, “Just wait here for a moment. Someone’s coming to get you.”
Being ushered into the back of the venue and then through a hallway she followed behind the man until he finally led her to an area with balcony seating and a good view of the stage, “Mr. Styles has said anything you’d like is on him. Can I get you a drink?”
Y/n still felt like it was so surreal to be here at a Harry Styles show on personal invitation and now being offered something to drink. On. Him.
“Is chardonnay on the menu?”
The man nodded and left in the blink of an eye.
Harry wasn’t on the stage yet. The opener was just finishing up and the crowd was full of young girls dressed in brightly colored, outfits. Lots of feathers and fringe and glitter and rhinestones.
The man returned with a glass of chardonnay as Y/n looked out over the crowd and leaned over the balcony. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived but her spot had a good view and she was happy she wasn’t down amongst all the pretty young things in front of the stage below.
The moment Harry came on the energy in the room was thick and everything was all about Harry. Fans with signs, lots of screaming, and most everyone sang along.
She couldn’t help but to dance and sing a little. The excitement and his enthusiasm spilled over everyone. Including her. Y/n noticed that it looked like Harry was watching her from the stage. He’d look up toward where she was with a grin often enough that it made her wonder. She thought perhaps he was smiling and looking toward someone else but it was definitely her because she watched as he mimicked her awful attempt at dancing by twirling around and shaking his hips exaggeratedly. She felt her face grow warm when some of the fans began to look up toward the balcony where she stood. Luckily there were other people where she was (who she later found out all had tickets from members of the band – a sort of VIP section for friends and family) so it wasn’t immediately obvious it was her he was grinning at.
The entire concert felt like a whirlwind. Harry’s charisma and style of entertainment were so contagious and exciting. Y/n felt like she was on adrenaline as she was being led backstage. The area was bustling as well. Lots of fans, mostly young girls, a table with small bites and beverages, and sitting areas.
She saw a couple of the band members taking photos with a group of people and then she heard shrieks and turned toward the commotion. There he was flocked by a group of fans and taking photos with one or two at a time. His smile was dazzling, genuine. She noted that he’d changed out of his stage outfit into a pair of basketball shorts and a sweater. He looked so casual in his outfit, yet there was no mistaking that this man commanded the room. That he was the star everyone wanted a piece of.
Y/n decided to keep herself occupied and look around while she waited for Harry to free up a bit. She wasn’t quite sure he’d really be seeing her afterward like he mentioned the night before. And the text she received earlier with the ticket details came from an automated six-digit number separated by a dash in between. Which made sense because he probably didn’t want her to have his number.
But she’d stick around to at least say hi.
“You came. Thank you,” Y/n turned to see the man behind her, with his handsome grin looking right at her.
“Oh, well, of course! Figured why not? It was a great concert by the way!”
They chatted for only a few minutes before they were interrupted again. Harry gave Y/n a look of apology, “Meet me at the hotel bar in like an hour?”
“Okay. I will try to be there in an hour,” she was going to just say absolutely yes, 100% she’d be there but that all sounded a little too desperate for her taste. She preferred to keep things level. And who knew if he’d even show up?
In her room, Y/n went back and forth between changing into something more comfortable or just keeping her current outfit on. She decided to keep on what she had and instead freshened up her hair and dotted on the smallest bit of undereye concealer.
It had been a while since she’d been interested in anyone. And she didn’t know what Harry wanted but the night before she was picking up certain vibes. She could be wrong. Perhaps she’d misread the whole situation. But she thought it could be fun to get out a little. Try and move on from the trauma of her last relationship. She tried not to think of it when she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Moving on had been something she’d been attempting to do for a while. A fun night with a handsome pop star could help a little. If that’s where things led. Hopefully.
At the bar, she ordered soda water to start. She didn’t want to get sloppy, just in case it turned into something more than just a friendly chat. It was around the time Harry said he’d meet her. She’d give him a little leeway since he had just gotten finished putting on a concert for thousands of adoring fans.
But when another thirty minutes had passed she checked her phone to find that there was nothing from him and no sign of his cute dimples in the bar anywhere either.
She waved at the bartender, “I’ll have a glass of house chardonnay please.”
She figured she might as well have one more glass of wine for the evening before calling it a night.
Looking at Instagram while she waited for her drink she realized she had a dm. It was from Dante. An artist she hit it off with at her last showing. They’d been messaging back and forth a bit but nothing had come of it. He lived a few hours away from her so getting together again hadn’t really been brought up. Except now.
Hey, I’ll be heading your way for an art exhibit soon. Would love to catch up in person if you’re free. Would you be interested in seeing me again? I’ll let you know when I’ll be in town when I find out more.
Smiling she began to type her response when the bartender placed her glass of wine down along with an envelope with her name written on the front.
She looked up at the young man in question
“Concierge handed this to me right after you ordered.”
“But how did you know this was for me?” She lifted the envelope up and flipped it over to open it up.
“Because I have your credit card with your name on it when you started your tab. Plus they described you. It’s from a very special guest I’m told.”
A very special guest.
She pulled her lips into her mouth to hide the grin that was about to take over as she looked around the bar, still, with no sign of Harry.
Pulling out the contents of the envelope she took a sip of her wine.
Sorry, I ran late. Take a drink in my room with me? p1900 - H
Blinking her eyes she felt her pulse pick up as she folded the note and tucked it into her purse. She gulped down another bit of chardonnay and grinned to herself, already having completely forgotten about Dante.
So she had read this right. The nerves in her belly bubbled up as she waved at the bartender, Check please!”
After making a pitstop at her room to really “freshen” up she realized that the floors stopped off at 8. After that was P.
Penthouse.
Hitting the P, she leaned her back into the wall as the elevator took her to the top floor.
The moment she stepped out of the elevator she was greeted by a man, “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Oh!” She suddenly remembered who she was dealing with. Harry Styles, a world-famous, A-list pop star. Of course, he’d have security. “Yes, I uh… Harry invited me up-“ She reached into her purse and pulled out the note, “Here.”
The man unfolded the note and then looked at her with a smile, “Y/n?”
So he’d told them her name…
She nodded as he handed the note back to her, “Follow me.”
She figured this was something Harry had done before; had people brought to his room. The occasional one-night stand. Some fun for the weekend.
The man knocked at the door and only a handful of seconds passed before Harry was standing in the doorway, wearing the same after-concert outfit he’d been wearing when she left the venue earlier.
He smiled at her, “Come in,” and then looked at the man, “Thanks, Shamus.”
The suite was huge. That was no surprise. She’d seen a few nice suites in her days. Being an artist wasn’t always so lucrative but she was always invited to the good after parties. She had a lot of artsy fartsy friends, some very well-off.
“I’m really sorry about being so late. I just got caught up and then before I realized the time it was too late. I’m glad you were still at the bar.”
“Yeah,” she said as she walked around toward the sitting area with the large woven rug and plush couches, “about that… what if I wasn’t in the bar? I was about to go back to my room.”
“Well, then I guess we would have missed one another. That would have been a shame.”
“But you have my number. You could have reached out.”
Harry scratched the back of his neck as she sat down. She was acting far more confident than she really was. But this was part of what she did. She was constantly put into situations where she needed to be confident and sell herself. Her art was an extension of herself. So when she needed to make some sales at shows and galleries she learned just how to do that. Her art sold itself for the most part. But there were enough people who wanted her story. Sometimes, she was what sold her piece. She’d do whatever it took to not be a starving artist anymore.
“I know I could have. But… I hope you don’t take offense. I have a rule not to give out my number so easily. Not that I think you’d use it to do anything but I’ve just had some really bad experiences. People I’ve trusted have betrayed me and changing my number is something I have nightmares about,” he laughed as sat down next to her on the couch.
She laughed with him. She actually could sort of understand it. Being a woman was like that in a way. Giving out her number to someone could be risky. It was a gamble to have her information out there with someone she didn’t know well.
“I’m not offended. But I really thought you’d changed your mind. Though, in all honesty,” she stretched her arms overhead with a yawn and leaned back into the very shockingly comfortable couch, “I was sort of looking forward to my bed. I’m exhausted.”
Harry leaned back and draped his leg over his knee, “I know what you mean. If I were you I’d much prefer a comfy bed than to spend any time with me either,” he laughed and then put his arm along the back of the couch, “but really… if you’re tired, don’t feel pressure to stay. I am glad you’re here, though.”
There it was. He gave her the choice. So he could have the green light. The thumbs up. He was clever. Telling her she didn’t have to stay but also letting her know he wanted her there. The ball was in her court.
“I’m curious as to why you think I’m interesting enough to invite back to your room for a drink, of which I’ve not yet been offered,” she teased with a chuckle. She didn’t want to seem like some pushover but at the same time, she felt a little flirty. She’d had such a good night at the gallery and she hadn’t been alone with a man nearly as attractive as Harry in… well, she’d never been alone with a man as attractive as Harry. And he was very much giving off the air of flirty himself. The way he kept putting his finger up to his lip, the eye contact, his arm reaching across the couch behind her… His body language was a dead giveaway.
“You don’t think you’re interesting?”
Y/n smiled. He was good. Of course that was a good line to use on someone he didn’t know. She was wondering something very specific that he’d yet to admit. That she was there for some fun. A quick romp. He had a need that he wanted filled and so did she. The reason he’d asked her to his room was for that. Yet he insisted on playing coy.
“I know I’m interesting. But you don’t know me. So why is it that you’ve asked me here?” She raised her brows at him as he stood and walked to the buffet across the room.
“I felt comfortable with you from the start. It’s nice to have a conversation with someone new once in a while. Not someone in the industry,” Harry turned back with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in his other, “and sorry I didn’t offer you a drink. Wine?”
Nodding her head she watched as Harry sat back down next to her, a little closer this time as he uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses.
Clinking their glasses together Harry sat back into the couch again. The silence had been a little awkward as he poured their drinks and Y/n was feeling a bit unsettled. She wasn’t sure what to say. As confident as she normally could be, this was getting very real and her mind wouldn’t stop wandering to what would be happening in thirty minutes or an hour from then. Would he be really going all in with her? Trying to get laid? She wouldn’t mind it, not at all. She’d happily let Harry Styles fuck her if he wanted. But would he be thinking about how her thighs and her tummy were plump and soft (mushy really was the better descriptor)?
She’d looked up his past exes because what else would one do before meeting up one on one with Harry Styles? She knew it was a bad idea but once she got a peep of some of the women he’d been with in the past… well, she certainly didn’t fit that mold. She didn’t think she was ugly. Not at all. But she wasn’t a model. She wasn’t a hot body, lush-haired, perfectly put-together wealthy woman of the world.
She was an artist. She made a good living nowadays, but nothing crazy. She lived in the Midwest USA and would go six months without getting her haircut, much less even visiting for a style. She dressed cute, she thought, but not high fashion. Not with leather, and silk, and cashmere and braided linen… Her makeup style was a crapshoot. She wore a nice, tinted moisturizer (with sunscreen because she couldn’t be bothered with the extra step), cream blush, mascara, and if she was going out, red lipstick. That was her bold makeup move. Red lips. Contouring was a foreign concept to her.
“The wine is good. Thanks,” she said lifting her glass up before taking another sip.
“Oh yeah. I enjoy a little wine once in a while. Not really much of a connoisseur but this is one of my favorite red blends.”
Y/n nodded and looked down at her glass. He was obviously feeling the nerves as well. She felt him shift next to her as he put his arm back behind her on the couch again.
She thought about just putting the moves on. Getting it over with. But then he started to talk.
“Tomorrow afternoon I fly out to Brazil. Haven’t been there in a while. Feels like with the pandemic everything just stopped. Glad to have things sort of going back to normal. Ya know? But… What about you? Do you live near Chicago? You mentioned you live in the suburbs.”
They chatted a bit, revealing small things about themselves little by little. Eventually, she even wound up telling him her age and that she’d been in a long-term relationship that ended tragically but she didn’t give him all the details. She didn’t want his pity. But it felt natural to tell him a little bit more after he opened up to her about his last girlfriend and how it was his longest relationship but that he had felt stuck in it halfway through. That she had kids and how difficult that made everything.
Y/n knew who he was talking about as well. He didn’t need to say her name because she’d googled it all beforehand.
And she was aware that she wasn’t as old as his last girlfriend. She was only about a year older than Harry was but he was so sincere and mature that he felt older. Yet, there was a playful edge to him that was refreshing. And he was an excellent listener. Just as he had been the night before.
That was another reason she felt comfortable revealing small things about herself to him. He acted like what she was saying was worth being heard. He didn’t look at the clock on the wall, or let his eyes glaze over in boredom as she spoke. He asked her questions about what she’d said, remembered her sister’s name when she mentioned that she had two nieces, and even asked her about how her art show went – remembering the name of the gallery.
“And how did it go tonight at the Carrie Secrist Gallery? Did you get all your pieces sold?”
She laughed at his question – the way he said the name of the gallery. She thought he was probably showing off a little. He was naturally very charismatic and charming and she was falling for it hard. He’d bump his knee into hers every so often and his eyes never left her face which had her skin growing warm. He was flirting in the most subtle way.
“It went well! Actually, I sold all of my pieces. I did give a discount for one of them to be displayed at a restaurant because I figure that’s like advertisement, right? But yeah. It was a really good night.”
Harry cocked his head to the side and she noted how he watched as she sipped her wine and licked her lips. He wasn’t being coy anymore. His obvious gaze was his way of moving it along.
She stared back at him and felt her skin start to prickle with nerves. It was bold to look him directly in his sharp green eyes when he was sat so close to her. She watched as his lips turned up in a small smirk and he leaned in closer, “What perfume are wearing?”
She had to pause to think. It was her travel perfume. She liked nice scents and had a few back home but when she traveled she didn’t bring her usuals with her because they were too costly to risk being broken. And normally when she was traveling it was because she was participating in an exhibit or show and that meant she would wear very little of anything scented. Mostly out of respect. Like being on an airplane and wearing a beautiful spicy perfume that you’d put on before a date. You just wouldn’t.
“I think it’s like… um… I honestly don’t know the name. It’s a sample of something that I bring when I travel. Like a powdery, clean scent. Something nonoffensive. Would hate to lose out on a sale because I was wearing some wild cotton candy, musky, floral perfume or something,” she laughed.
Harry nodded with a small smile as he watched her mouth move around her words. She couldn’t help but notice how he looked from her lips and slowly brought his gaze back up to her eyes.
“What about you? You smell nice.” It was true. He did smell good. Clean and a little bit masculine. It was definitely some kind of cologne.
He looked down over his t-shirt and scrunched his brows in thought, “You think? Felt like I might be smelling a bit off.”
Y/n shook her head with a grin, “No. You smell nice. Clean.”
“Well, I did shower after the show. I get so hot and sweaty on stage. Sometimes the outfits don’t breathe at all. Just like, my hot skin trapped under saran wrap is what it feels like,” he laughed as he spoke but the visual had Y/n’s mind going into dark and dirty places. Perhaps he’d said it on purpose.
She stayed quiet as she sipped the last bit of her wine and then leaned forward to place the glass on the table in front of them.
“Would you like another bottle of wine? Or… something else?”
Clenching her jaw she looked at his empty glass next to hers.
Or something else…
“Well, I don’t know about having more wine…”
“Okay. Me neither to be honest. Also not quite ready to go to bed just yet. Do you want to like…” he pulled his lips into his mouth and raised his brows as he bumped her knee with his.
He didn’t need to say it. She knew what he meant. She kept her eyes on his with a grin on her face as he leaned in so close she could smell the wine on his breath, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
She was compelled to pull him toward her and put her lips to his instead of answering him verbally. She’d been watching his pink lips wrap around his words in the unique way he moved his mouth for long enough. They looked smooth and she was curious how they’d feel against hers. But the moment she felt his tongue slip out and wet the bottom of her lip she felt her mind go blank except for the thought that she was kissing Harry Styles. Sitting in his hotel room way past her bedtime with security outside of his door and an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table at her feet.
His hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her in closer, to which she happily allowed herself to be moved toward his body. Her own fingers flitted into his thick hair, the curls winding between her fingers, just as soft as it appeared.
To her surprise (and delight) he didn’t try rushing from kissing to trying to take her clothes off. In fact, he continued kissing her and pressing his tongue into hers and lapping over her lips, squeezing the back of her neck with one hand and her soft hip with the other for longer than she might have ever kissed anyone before. His mouth against hers was erotic and wet and a bit eager even. As if he hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time. But she matched that energy because she actually hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time.
He pinched her thigh a bit harder as she moved closer, her blouse-covered breasts brushing against his taut shirt-covered chest. She knew he was in good shape because she’d seen the pictures of him wearing open vests and jackets baring his well-built upper body while prancing on stage. Tonight’s outfit showcased how beefy he was with a well-fitted t-shirt and leather pants. A reminder of where she lacked.
As his hand slid upward to the curve of her waist she pulled away a little, really not feeling like he’d enjoy her extra bits once he touched them, “I… sorry…” she shook her head and sighed, feeling embarrassed.
Harry’s lips reached for hers again, brushing them softly over hers, “Sorry for what?”
But his mouth on hers was intoxicating and the way he was still grabbing at her and pulling her in made her forget what it was she was worried about.
The truth was that Harry loved what he saw and the way she felt so soft and plush under his hand. Her mouth, her hip, her waist. And she smelled pretty and her eyes were making him lose his mind. He wanted her in his bed and on his cock (if she’d allow that). Her voice was soft and feminine and she was smart and funny.
Harry had no trouble finding someone for the night. He’d been very lucky since his One Direction days but fame was like that. It also didn’t hurt that he was handsome with a deep voice and a big cock. But recently he decided to start being a little more choosy. Perhaps to find someone he could spend more than a night with. It was hard to do, though. Because he was on the road a lot and most people couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle unless they could go on the road with him. Which was usually an impossibility.
And after Y/n had left the venue a young woman was flirting heavily with him; batting her lashes and touching his arm, and giving off all the signals that she was a sure thing. Normally he’d have just stuck with that and had a good time with her for the evening. That was the easy route. A pretty girl very willing and eager whom he could send away after without feeling too bad. Did that make him a bad person? He didn’t think so. It was just sex most of the time. He was always safe and respectful and the kind of sexual tension that would build up while he was singing and dancing (and honestly that was when he was feeling his most attractive and confident) was normal after every show. It wasn’t like he had sex with someone new after each concert. But the option was always there.
But tonight he really wanted to see Y/n again. The cute girl was the easier option, but Y/n was the kind of woman he wanted to keep with him until morning. Let her sleep in his suite and have a couple of rounds with her. There was no way to know if it could ever be more but she was something different. His therapist, Pat, had told him to stop going with what was easiest. To take a step back and look for more substance. She told him he was clearly looking for something deeper and while there was nothing wrong with a bit of fun, deep down he needed more. And he knew she was right.
Harry’s hand roamed upward to the underside of her boob and even with the blouse and the bra covering her flesh he could feel how soft and heavy her breast was. He wanted to tear her shirt off and take a look but he’d let her lead the way because she seemed like she knew what she wanted when she slid her palm over his thigh and close to his crotch. Harry was solid and already thickened under his shorts, which was quite obvious from the way the fabric tented outward. He pulled her in closer again, hoping she’d grasp him over his shorts.
But instead, when Harry pulled at her she lost her balance and so the hand she was slowly moving upward as she worked up the courage to palm over his obvious erection suddenly was planted firmly over his cock, her hand trying to steady herself so as not to crush him under her palm and so she didn’t fall forward into him like she was about to.
They both parted from the kiss, Harry laughing and Y/n apologizing and quickly removing her hand, “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”
Harry was more than okay when he looked into her pretty eyes and saw how flustered she was, how swollen her lips were from kissing, and the way her eyes were blown out.
He put his hand over hers and pulled it back to cup over his hard dick, “As you can tell, I’m just fine,” he grinned and looked down at the state of himself and her eyes followed him. She knew he was hard, she felt it when she fell into him. Which was quite exciting now that she was having her hand guided over him, he squeezed around her fingers so she had to tighten her grip around him. She panted and looked up at him. He was girthy and the way his dick was stuffed under his shorts, bent a little bit as it was constricted by the elastic. She could tell he was hung. Very much so.
“Do you want me to… can I?” She asked, licking her lips and looking back down at his big bulge and Harry leaned back, putting his arms back along the couch.
“If you want. But if you do that then be warned that I am gonna want to return the favor.”
A laugh was forced out of Y/n’s nose as she looked back into his eyes curiously, “Be warned? As if that would be a bad thing?”
Harry shrugged, “You never know.”
Y/n bit her bottom lip and slowly tugged at the elastic of the shorts he had on to reveal he was sans underwear. The shock of seeing his thick deep pink tip so quickly had her gasping unexpectedly and pausing her motion. She could tell he was big just by the way he felt, but seeing it bare before her eyes…
Looking back up at him he nodded at her to continue so she pulled at the material, pushing it down and then finally getting a full at him, long and pretty, hard as a rock. He was fully engorged and heavy in her hand when she slid her palm over him. Yes, this would do.
Getting to her knees on the floor in between his legs she kept her hand on him, not wanting to let go. It was unbelievable that she was holding Harry Styles’ thick cock in her hand and he was hard for her. She clenched her thighs just imagining what it might feel like wrecking her insides because it would.
She licked her lips and leaned over him slowly, leisurely pumping him upward. Spitting over his tip she looked up at him and pressed her mouth to his slit with a tiny peck and used her hand to coat his cock with the saliva. She spat again to give her hand more glide and on her upward stroke, her palm squeezed around his frenulum. Harry moaned and leaned his head back. His pink lips parted.
Positioning herself more comfortably she lowered her mouth again to the underside of him, licking upward until her tongue glided over his tip and she popped his bulbous crown into her mouth and sucked. He reached down to put a hand into her hair and grunted as she got lower over him.
He tasted good. Of course, he hadn’t come yet but he was clean and smelled nice. She was never a fan of the taste of come but she was certain with Harry, she’d gulp him all down with a smile on her face despite whatever he might taste like.
Harry loved getting head. He didn’t always ask for it, and he didn’t technically ask for it this time either but she wanted it and he wanted to feel her warm mouth and plump lips wrapped around him since the night before when he first met her.
He was not disappointed either. She was taking him in well. He knew he wasn’t easy to take all the way, which was part of the reason he didn’t always ask for a blowie. But Y/n was good. He tried not to tighten his fingers in her hair, wanting her to go at her own pace but he did grasp the back of the couch with his free hand and found himself letting out a pathetic whimper when she swallowed around his tip.
She was enjoying this. She was pretty good at giving head, though it had been some time, she was a bit rusty but it was like riding a bike really. After a few swallows and deep strokes, his tip hitting the back of her mouth and making her gag lightly, she began to get the hang out of it again. And he was clearly enjoying it.
She was making a bit of a mess too. Drooling and coughing… the fabric of his shorts that was pressed under his balls was wet. Which reminded her…
Using her free hand she began to roll his scrotum in her palm gently. His balls were round and full and heavy and when he gasped she could tell that was a good sign.
“Oh my god… ffffuck, Y/n!” Harry couldn’t help it when he tightened his fingers in her hair. He was going to come already. A little bit embarrassing but she was good and the noises she was making and the way she was sucking him in, wet and warm… plus… he was getting a very good view of her with her mouth wrapped around him. Drool dripping down her chin and she’d look up at him every so often and that was doing him in. The fact that she was pushing him down her throat so deeply and then looking up at him as she gurgled around him was making him lose it.
Now, Harry was a bit dominant in the bedroom. Well, a lot actually. He didn’t always show it, especially not with one-night stands or with someone he’d just met. He liked to ease them into it unless they were clearly into it. And there was something that told him she liked it a bit rough. So when he pushed her down a little further and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she moaned around him he coughed out a gasp and clenched his teeth to hold himself back. He wanted to have her on his cock like this for a while longer but she was conducting his perfect ideal for a blow job.
“Open that throat up for me, baby… gonna choke you with my come…” he panted his words and watched her closely as she hastened bobbing up and down over him. He took a risk to say what he wanted and she liked it. He had a feeling she would.
Y/n moaned at his words and the way he handled her hair and pushed her down over him. His sudden dominant display was welcomed and felt her arousal drip past her thong onto the insides of her thighs when he told her to open her throat for him. It was the hottest thing she’d heard in a long time.
And she did choke on his come. Salty and bitter, with an edge of sweetness. She swallowed and around him coughed as he flooded her throat. Tears poured from her eyes as she gulped him down the best she could and listening to his moans and grunts was satisfying to her.
Eventually, he released her hair and let his body melt into the couch as she licked him clean until his cock was softening in her mouth. He watched her when she sat back and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth with a small smile. The tears on her cheeks were mixed with streaks of black from her mascara and her mouth was puffy and wet.
“Come here,” Harry grasped the front of her neck and leaned in as he pulled her close so he could kiss her hard. She put her hands over his thighs to steady herself as he pulled her up and then moved her onto the couch under him. He pushed her down and lowered himself to her neck and licked upward toward her jawline, “Let me see you. Want to see your tits and your pussy. Can I, Y/n?”
She nodded as he pulled at her top. She sat up a little so he could pull the material off and she was quick to undo her clasp at the back. She was wearing a bra that was slightly complicated because her breasts were large and heavy so it was quite the device. She doubted he’d be able to figure it out fast enough.
“Holy fuck…” Harry groaned as he put his large hands over her tits and caressed the soft skin before lowering himself to attach his mouth to her left nipple and then her right one.
She hissed when he pulled at her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and squeezing gently at the other side. She hadn’t had anyone play with her tits in a long time. She’d really been missing intimacy. He sat back a little and pressed her boobs together before dipping back down to use his tongue all along her smooth flesh, tucking the wet muscle in between her breasts and licking upward toward her neck.
He continued kneading her tits as he settled himself onto his shins and sat back and looked at her face, “So fucking pretty.”
She arched her back, causing her hips to roll upward and Harry looked down to her hips, moving his hands down to the waistband of her skirt. He massaged her soft hips and watched as the material of her skirt lifted the slightest at the way he was squeezing her. He clenched his jaw and looked back into her eyes and raised his brows as if to ask her permission to keep lifting her skirt upward. She’d already nodded in response when he asked her moments ago but he wanted to know if she’d changed her mind or not.
Y/n brought her hands down and lifted the hem of her skirt up to just the part where her thighs were wholly exposed but her panties weren’t in view yet. Keeping her eyes on his she pushed at his hands to lower them so he could finish the job if he wanted. It was her way of giving him permission to pull her skirt up so he could see her.
And it wasn’t that Y/n was super confident in her body. In fact, if there was anything she was insecure about it was her weight and her body. She did well to push down the anxiety she felt about that and didn’t like to make it known she felt self-conscious, but she was. And here was Harry Styles between her legs and looking at her half-naked body, finally getting a view of her panties as he lifted her skirt. She knew she was wet between her legs already and watching the expression on his face she held her breath hoping he wasn’t grossed out by what he saw.
She watched him lick his lips as his brows set in a serious expression. He shot his gaze up to her eyes and then back down to her wet panties. She breathed a gasp when she felt his finger slip along the topmost part of her thigh just under the crotch of her panties, “You’re wet.”
She gulped hard. She knew there was nothing she could do to hide how wet she’d gotten from sucking him off. But when he thumbed at her thigh and collected her arousal before sticking his whole digit into his mouth and licking it clean, she dropped her mouth open in surprise.
“Mmm… do you know one of my favorite things to do is to put my face in between a woman’s thighs and make her come on my tongue?” He licked his lips again and pressed his thumbs to the elastic of her panties, pushing just under the fabric over her hips as he looked at her.
“I… no. I didn’t know,” was all she could respond with. She was anticipating what was to come and she couldn’t believe it so her brain wasn’t quite connecting with everything else at that moment.
Harry kept his eyes on hers as he began to lower her panties. He wanted access. Wanted to get his mouth on her and have her shaking and coming, getting his face all wet, dripping down to the couch below…
When Harry pulled the fabric down to her upper thighs he shifted to pull the material down and off her legs. He needed to have her spread apart for him so the panties needed to go.
When he finally allowed himself to look at the soft skin and the bit of hair she had all around her warm and wet pussy he closed his eyes and moaned when he gripped onto her hips, letting his fingers sink into her skin.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Okay? You want that, Y/n?” He yanked his shirt off over his head, revealing his well-defined chest and scattered tattoos. He must have planned on making a mess.
She nodded and looked down over her body and back into his eyes as he lowered himself over her. He went in tongue first and closed his eyes as he made the first lick upward through her slit and coated his tongue in her.
She moaned softly but then he quickly reached a hand down to the leg that was nearest the edge of the cushion and gripped onto the underpart of her thigh, making her spread out for him as he nudged into her further, lapping and sucking at her.
“OH!” She panted as his lips lowered to her entrance and his wide nose swept over her clit as he shook his head and pulled at her so he could push in further.
She grabbed onto the back of the couch with one arm and her other hand pushed into his soft hair. She rolled her hips upward and moaned at the way he felt on her, but he kept pushing her back down which was driving her nuts, in the best way. He was going in like a starved man and forcing her hips down to keep her still.
Harry wasn’t shy to eat pussy or do it his way. He found that women generally enjoyed the way he did it. His objective was always for it to feel good and for whoever was on the receiving end to come. And he really wanted to make Y/n come because of how good she’d just sucked him off. Swallowed his cock halfway down her throat and choked on his come. He wanted to give her something in return because he wanted to show her how good he could be. Hoped that he was better than anyone before him (because he liked being the best at everything he did).
“Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit!!! God! Harry, f-ffffuck!” When Harry shifted and stuffed two fingers inside and began to pump them in and out as he kept his mouth over her clit she knew she was gonna be a goner. Because this was her own go-to move when she masturbated.
She had a slim dildo she used that was curved and hit her insides nicely and loved combining that with her clit sucker[TK7] . It always got her off and Harry’s mouth and fingers were hitting all the spots she needed.
Going into this with him she figured it could be fun. Might get some pleasure, perhaps something to think back on fondly. She hoped for more than just that (if he could give her an orgasm that would have been preferred) but was prepared for just some fun but doubted an orgasm or anything like what was happening. The man was just as charming with his face between her thighs as he was talking and singing into a microphone. The humor and his charisma didn’t stop on stage. Harry was good. And sexy.
She stiffened as her muscles began to vibrate. Harry seemed to know that she was coming as he pumped his fingers into her harder and faster and continued slurping at her clit.
Only when she began to come down did she realize how loud she’d been. Her moans and cries were sure to have been heard by anyone standing near the door. Her slight embarrassment was quelled when she felt Harry’s lips still sliding over her pussy as he moaned. She was a mess and from what she could see of his face, that was too.
Pressing at his forehead as she giggled her words, “Harry! Okay… okay!” She wiggled away from him.
Harry sat up and looked down at her with a small smirk on his damp face. His eyes were hooded and he looked like he was ready for more, which she was not expecting. Figured he’d gotten what he needed and would have her on her way.
But instead, as he stood up she noticed that the strain at the front of his shorts was back with a vengeance. After pulling his shorts off, he pulled at her hand, helping her stand, and wrapped his fingers around hers as he led her to the bed.
She watched him walk in front of her, tall and well-built. A tush she could bite into. Would love to sketch and paint him in bronze, pink, olive, and brown. His thick dark hair, the lean neck holding up his big, yet handsome, head. Broad shoulders and a smooth back, strong, meaty thighs atop his sinewy lower legs. She could do his frame justice on a canvas. Add in a bit of gold and red, and plenty of dark, fine strokes to delineate his muscles. She’d use her script brush for the scattered hairs…
His mouth met hers and erased her thoughts and her gawking at his naked physique. The first thing that was apparent was the way he tasted. Like her pussy. She was not quite expecting it. She’d been out of the game like this for a bit and so kissing someone was already a fairly exciting prospect. But to have it be Harry Styles and then to have him taste like he’d just eaten her out? Now that was never something she’d had on her radar for sexual conquests. This felt like a bucket list item that would always just stay there, on the list. Except it was so far out of her realm of possibility that it never would have made it to such a list. But as it were, here she was, being pulled to his bed, his cock hard and long next to her, his mouth damp with her arousal, and then what?
“Take your skirt off for me, love.”
He didn’t ask her. He told her.
She knew that once her skirt was pulled off she’d be completely naked. In front of Harry Styles. With that body. But she complied. Bringing her skirt down over her hips and thighs until it fell into the floor in a small pile. She looked down over herself but tried not to think about the way she looked naked to him. He didn’t seem to mind her extra bits. In fact, he seemed to be rather enjoying her as she was. But she couldn’t help the way she felt so exposed.
He bent down to kiss her again, his fingers running into her hair with one hand and his other hand moving down her back and to her bottom, squishing her flesh and rutting his hips into hers.
Harry parted with a gasp and held her out so he could look at her, “You’re so fucking hot, Y/n. Climb on the bed for me.”
Her whole body was vibrating. The way he was looking at her had her nervous and vulnerable. She sat her bottom on the bed and watched him as she scooted into the middle of the mattress. Harry stood at the foot of the bed and watched her. He wasn’t shy about where he let his eyes roam. Right between her sticky thighs, over her belly up to her big tits.
“Lay back and spread your legs.”
She wasn’t used to being told what to do during sex. Her husband was the last man she slept with (years ago) and he wasn’t commanding in bed at all. This was all a first for her but it made her feel something she hadn’t really felt before. Being bossed around this way was exciting.
So she did as he said, putting her back on the comforter and hesitantly spreading her legs apart, bending at the knees and putting her feet flat onto the blanket.
She felt the bed shift as Harry climbed up next to her and he put his hands on her shins and looked at her shiny pussy.
His small moan vibrated through his chest as he looked the pretty girl in her eyes, “Can I fuck you? Is that all right?”
Y/n nodded quickly and shot her eyes down to Harry’s cock. She couldn’t believe he was so hard again. But she felt like that was probably somewhat of a compliment, “I don’t have any condoms, um-“
Harry crawled over her, his thighs spreading between hers, causing her legs to part further, “I have some. Are you on birth control?” He grazed his mouth over hers and as he pressed his lips to hers she felt his cock against her pelvis.
Panting her words and rolling her hips upward, “Yes I am.”
Harry’s lips slotted between Y/n’s as he settled his hips against hers, slowly putting himself through her labia to feel her first. Without having to put on a condom. He knew it was necessary but to be able to feel her warm against his skin, wetting it, the hair scratching it…
Y/n gasped when his cockhead nudged at her entrance before he slid up through her crease and it bumped into her clit. It was salacious. Almost as if he were testing the waters to not put on a condom. Her body and her mind were beginning to synch up into lust and want again. He’d just given her an orgasm but she was on her way to that point of no return once again.
And Harry never went without a condom with a one-night stand or a quick weekend fling. Of course, once the relationship was established there was no need but never before had he wanted so badly to enter a woman without really knowing if he could trust her or not. She said she was on birth control but how could he know?
Reluctantly he got off the bed to grab a condom from his suitcase and paused next to the bed to roll it down from his tip to his base.
Y/n watched. He was thick and long. The hair at his base was dark and masculine. He crawled back in between her legs and kissed the insides of her thighs and lapped upward quickly over her pussy one last time for good measure before positioning himself over her with his shaft in his hand, aiming himself at her cunt.
The room was lit with only one lamp and the bed was soft underneath her body. She couldn’t quite believe that she was in that moment, with Harry Styles above her. She hadn’t had sex with anyone since her husband. But here she was, with a man’s cock pressed at her entrance, waiting for her to finally give permission so he could push into her. So he could fuck her. So Harry Styles could fuck her.
Rolling her hips upward slightly and grasping onto his lats, “Please.”
Harry panted out a breath as he fit his cock into her, the initial entry needing a bit of force to squeeze his thick head past the threshold of her tight muscle. She gasped at the widening of her opening. It felt good to have a man poking into her rather than her silicon dildo for once.
She held onto his back for dear life as he doused himself in her. She was soft and thick and tight. It was incredible and warm. His strokes were long, slowly sinking in deeper and deeper with each rock inward.
“How’s that feel?” Harry’s cock was feeling very good, he hoped the noises she was making were a good sign. He thought it was but wanted her to be more vocal.
“Oh my god, Harry… fuck that feels good.” She purred.
Harry put his hands over her tits and continued fucking into her, his thighs giving him leverage for each plunge.
“Yeah? You like that? Tell me what you like, baby. What do you need?”
Her mind went blank as his long dick slicked in and out of her, spreading her, touching her deeply… What did she like? What did she need? It had been so long and never had she needed to vocalize it before.
“You, Harry,” She hissed when he bucked his hips inward, a deep thrust that sent her body surging upward from the force of his drive.
“Me? Oh baby, you have me, can’t you feel that?” His words came out pinched in ecstasy, “But talk to me. What do you like?”
Slowly moving a hand upward to her neck he wrapped his fingers around and squeezed only the slightest as he continued rolling his hips into her. He tweaked one of her nipples with his other hand and she gasped as her lips parted.
“What about this? You like when I do this?” He dug the pads of his fingers into the side of her neck before loosening but keeping his hand over her throat.
She nodded quickly, not expecting to have enjoyed it but she did, “Yes.”
“And this?” Rolling her nipple between his fingers and giving her a good hard jerk of his hips inward she grunted and nodded again.
“Good girl. You like it a little rough then. Let’s see what else we can learn…” he spoke as he gripped her neck solidly, but still giving her space to say no if she needed. He leaned over her, his face directly above, “Open your mouth.”
She complied and parted her lips.
“Tongue out.”
She jutted her pink tongue past her lips and Harry spat down into her mouth and then cooed at her as he watched his saliva drip down her tongue and into her throat, “I can tell you like that too. Is that right? Are you my dirty girl?”
Moaning and feeling her body floating away from her brain she nodded, “I’m your dirty girl.”
Harry sucked in a sharp breath at her words. It was just what he wanted to hear.
“You are, aren’t you? My dirty girl likes getting fucked nice and hard,” he punctuated his statement with a harsh thrust, “Choked, spit on… Fuck baby I think you might just be my favorite girl. What else do you like?”
She was officially stunned and gushing from his words. And his cock too of course. But the way he was talking to her and showing her what she liked made her feel like a new woman. It was an experience she wouldn’t soon forget.
“Aww… poor thing. Having a hard time speaking, dear? Need some help?”
She gurgled a moan and nodded. Her belly was on fire with how deep his cock was. Everything around her was fuzzy.
Suddenly Harry pulled out and grasped her hips, pushing her to roll to her front, “Hands and knees.”
She whined as she pushed herself upward, spreading her legs and pushing her knees and palms into the blanket below.
“Shh, shhh… no need to cry, baby. Daddy’s here.” It was a risk. To say it. To call himself Daddy. But it was his favorite. He loved being called Daddy when he was fucking anyone who was even just a little bit submissive. And Y/n was quite submissive but he had a feeling she didn’t even know it. Based on how confident and cheeky she was when he met her and when she got to his room earlier he knew he had the potential for a brat on his hands but for her to also be a bit submissive? And this pretty? He’d hit the jackpot.
He smacked her bottom, both sides with a solid whack causing her to jump and groan, her head lolling downward as she reared back, her pussy and ass on display for him.
“And you like that too don’t you pretty girl?”
She nodded her head and moved her hips back again, most likely searching for his cock to fit itself back into her but he needed her to start talking a little more.
“I knew you would. But I need to hear your words my lovely little thing. Can you talk to me? Do you want more spankings? Or do you want something else?” He grinned as he squished the plump flesh of her thick bottom, the view something he’d sear into his memory and bring with him on tour until he could have her again. He knew he’d want to see her again after this.
“Fffuck…” she moaned softly. She didn’t know what she wanted. She just wanted whatever he was doing to continue. She was absolutely loving it. And the Daddy thing? She had never called anyone Daddy before. Not even her own dad. It would need to grow on her.
Harry grasped the base of his shaft and dragged his tip through her folds gently, up and down, pressing himself at her center and she pushed back to make him go in but he backed away, smacking her bum again and making her jolt.
“Ah, ah, ah… Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want. I need to hear it from those pretty lips.”
Y/n swallowed as her heart raced and not just from how turned on she was. From nerves. She was surprised by the reaction he was pulling out of her. But she did want a couple of things and there was something in how dominant he was being that made her feel like she needed to comply.
“Fuck me and spank me. Please.”
Harry smiled and slid his cockhead into her folds again, “Yeah? I love it when you say please. Makes me very happy. I’ll give you what you want. But I want something from you too, Y/n.”
Harry watched as his tip parted her shiny crease as he pushed upward, spreading her arousal all around.
When she stayed silent Harry brought his free palm down to her bottom, the smack sounding in the room, “Well aren’t you going to ask what I want?”
She gasped and took a breath, “Sorry. What do you want?” Her words were coming out breathy and light.
“I need you to keep telling me if you like something. And ask me if there’s something else you want. Understood?”
“Yes.” She nodded her head and bit her lip, waiting for him to slip inside again.
Harry removed his palm from her bottom and gathered her hair between his fingers and pulled her head up gently, “Can you guess what else I want? What else makes Daddy really happy?”
Shaking her head and peeping the word no Harry leaned in to speak into her ear, “I just gave you a hint little girl. Let’s see if you can use that brain of yours to figure out what I like.”
Her eyes fluttered at the feel of his breath at the back of her ear and his fingers pulling at her hair. It wasn’t registering to her what he wanted. He gave her a hint?
“Come on… I know you can figure this one out. It’s not that hard. Or are you kind of dumb when my cock is right here, nudging into you? Hmm?” He pushed in the smallest bit, allowing his tip to tuck into her for a moment before bringing it back out.
She whined and licked her lips. It was true that it was hard to think when he was handling her the way he was.
“Sorry. I’m not sure.”
Harry’s dark baritone vibrated off her ear as he spoke, “S’okay. We’ll take our time til you figure it all out. Do you want Daddy’s cock?”
She nodded quickly and Harry chuckled as he spoke, “Yeah? Well then tell me, dear, who’s cock do you want?” He nudged in again, prodding her crease and pushing just into her opening. It was taking all of his resolve not to just hammer into her at that point.
But hearing him say that, it clicked. She knew what he wanted, “Yours, Daddy.”
It felt odd coming out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she liked it but the moment he stuffed her again with his large cock she keened and moaned and knew that he deserved to be called Daddy if that’s what he wanted. He gave her what she wanted so she’d give him what he wanted.
“Yes… good girl. I knew you could do it, baby,” Harry spoke through gritted teeth when he sunk in to the hilt. He pulled back and then fucked into her quickly. His pace soon became harsh as he let go of her hair and pounded her from behind. Smacking her bottom with his palm every few strokes her flesh grew red slowly and her moans grew louder.
“Oh! Yess! Ffffuck!” Her body was rocked forward at each strike of his hips into hers. The sound of skin thudding wetly and smacks of his hand to her flesh were loud in the room.
Harry held onto her hips, squeezing tightly as he gave her bottom a break from the strikes.
“My dick is coated in your cream. Ffuuck little girl. Goddamn best girl I’ve had. Can you rub your sweet little pussy for me? Put your fingers where you need them. Show Daddy you’re a good girl.”
Harry’s deep voice and the sound of his fat cock penetrating her wet hole were egging her on as she brought her hand between her legs to get herself closer to the edge as she rubbed her clit.
His engorged cock twitched when he felt her fingers brush against his balls as he thumped into her over and over again.
She began to see stars as she sputtered inarticulate words. Harry was going in hard but he felt so good inside of her. The way he was holding her hips kept her grounded as his balls whacked into her on each thrust. She could feel how wet his scrotum was from her arousal soaking him.
But then her eyes popped open and her whining and choked moans halted when he released one of her hips and put his fingers over her bum. On her anus. She hadn’t expected it.
Harry slowed his movements as he spoke, “Oh did that surprise you? How am I supposed to keep my hands off your tiny hole here,” he rubbed it as he spoke, still fucking into her deeply but slowly now, “when she’s looking directly up at me all empty and needy?”
She felt liquid drip over her bottom when Harry spit down onto her puckered hole and rub his saliva around, “Can I? Just a finger. It’s going to feel so good.”
Y/n panted and nodded, “Okay.”
Never once had she done anything sexual with her bottom. She’d never played with herself there, nor considered having anyone do it for her either. Her husband had certainly never tried.
More spit was rubbed over the hole and she felt Harry’s finger slowly push in as she continued rubbing her button and Harry continued filling her cunt with his heavy cock. It felt odd. Not like being fingered in her pussy. A very different sensation but it wasn’t bad. Well, she’d say that it was actually pretty good in combination with everything else.
“Relax for me. Let me make you feel good.” His finger fucked into her ass as he slowly began to increase the tempo of his hips.
“Ahh!” She squeaked out as he dipped into her cervix and she clenched over his cock and his finger at the ache.
“S’okay. M’cock’s getting in there deep, isn’t it? Do you want me to stop?”
Shaking her head she spoke with her words coming out in punches between his thrusts, “Please! Don’t stop! Need you!”
She did need him. Needed him to keep doing what he was doing. Needed his dirty words, his big cock, and his long fingers. She was going to come if he continued.
Harry panted and groaned at what he was seeing and feeling. Not only was she making him feel so good, but watching her pussy being fucked and her ass being fingered was a dream.
He slid his finger in and out gently and he could tell that she was starting to relax a little. A good sign. He’d love to fuck her bottom one day. Get her nice and open and just wreck all of her holes.
Harry’s long, fast strokes into her pussy were devasting her insides. She knew she’d be limping the next day but that thought only excited her.
Applying just the right amount of pressure to her clit as she rubbed, feeling Harry’s finger slipping in and out of her, and with the way his cock was working into her so deep she could no longer stop her body from shaking and her lungs from gasping for air loudly.
Harry felt her walls squeeze and pulse around him as he continued rolling his hips into her steadily, fucking her through her orgasm, her moans and gasps, her fingers at her clit, and her thighs shaking… he smiled as he threw his head back to feel it. To feel her in her orgasm. Her soft insides, wet, and contracting around him.
“Fuck, baby… it’s that good is it?” Harry looked down at the scene below. Absolutely filthy. His wide cock parted her fluttering pussy as it gripped him tight. Her arousal was slathered over him.
As she began to loosen up and he could tell she was done he gently pulled out, both his cock and his finger, “Good girl. Can you lie on your back? I’m almost there. Just need a little more. Want to make you come one more time.”
Y/n gulped and adjusted herself onto her back, “I’m not sure I can come again.”
Harry climbed over her and put his palms over her tits again, “You’ll come again.”
She watched him as he allowed his gaze to look over her body. She really wished he wouldn’t look too closely like he was. She felt a bit embarrassed. Being chubby was always something she contended with for as long as she could remember. As confident as she conveyed herself in her day-to-day, the truth was that once her clothes came off she felt well below average.
Harry gently brushed his fingers along her cheekbone and slowly pushed back in, the front of his thighs pressed into the back of hers.
The feel of him re-entering her was sharp and achy. He’d already done quite a number on her. She was positive she wouldn’t have another orgasm. Impossible.
“I love how you feel. Fuck, baby.”
He angled himself so he was pushing down into her, splitting her pussy and pressing deeply.
“Ahh!” She hadn’t expected the way it would feel when he pushed her hips upward and fucked down into her. It was tight and he was long and it pinched the smallest bit but when she looked at his face she saw ecstasy. He was definitely close.
“So tight isn’t it? Taking me so good, Y/n. Wanna feel you come once more. Just squeezing the fuck out of me again so when I come I can feel you milking me, sucking my dick into your cunt, begging for my come.”
Y/n moaned at the words. It was hot. Harry’s strong body and his roughness, and the way he spoke were so hot.
He moved his hand from her cheek down to her neck and softly squeezed, “It’s so messy down there sweet girl. Just drenching me. Can you hear that?” His question was punctuated by the noises their bodies made together. His lengthy prick pushing into her and dragging back to the tip before impaling her again. Over and over. The slick sounds of his condom coated in her, spreading her open. Her body felt it all. She had been so sensitive after her orgasm and now her insides were aching in delight. The feel of him wide and thick inside and then deep as he dipped all the way in sent zips and currents through her body.
Harry enjoyed the way his body felt inside of her. It was lavish and soft and warm and she was so wet for him, so needy. Her big tits were swaying as he thrust deep and her nipples were peaked. He loved how she looked with his hand over her throat. He wanted to do so much more. Preferred it far rougher but this was their first, and perhaps only time. He didn’t generally enjoy scaring them off on night one. A few rounds on separate occasions and he’d show what he was really into. He hoped this wouldn’t be their last time. He felt like she’d enjoy what he was into. Felt like she might be too. She liked to be choked a little. She called him Daddy even which was making him lose his mind. She’d be into the idea of playing into his breeding kink too he bet.
And that thought sent him so deep into his fantasy he began to feel his orgasm swell into his balls. Just imagining her plush body and wide hips taking him like he needed. He needed to fuck a lot. He normally masturbated about twice a day when he didn’t have someone to come inside of. But when he was in a steady relationship he’d drain his cock all day long when there was time for it.
He could just see Y/n’s cunt dripping with his come and he’d make her lie flat and keep it inside of her so it would soak into her. The idea that she could get pregnant by him. Fill her with his sperm and make her body grow thicker and softer with his babies. Her tits would swell and engorge.
But that was just a fantasy. Now he was fucking so hard and so deep into the hottest woman he’d had in a long time. Her plump hips and soft pussy were begging him for more. Even though she insisted she couldn’t come again, he could already tell she was getting even slicker for him. Her body preparing for her third orgasm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her mouth was wide open.
“Y’gonna come for me, little girl. Come on Daddy’s cock. You can do it. I know you can. Can feel you fluttering around me already. So needy for more aren’t you?”
The words she wanted to say were yes and don’t stop, please! But instead, she gurgled and choked her moans when his pelvis rubbed over hers, offering her clit the friction needed. A few more of his harsh strokes and the way their bodies connected, rubbing and pushing into one another had her button being worked just like she wanted.
Harry coughed out a laugh but then groaned when he felt her begin to shake, “Oh, baby. Ffuck… thought you said you couldn’t come again? Hm? Look at that…” his strokes were long and deep as he felt her body give way to another orgasm. Her spasming cunt squeezed his cock deliciously and Harry pumped himself into her so she could come properly while getting railed and having her clit stimulated all at once.
And just as she was beginning to relax Harry finally released. He choked out a moan and stilled his hips, pushing in so his cockhead was pressing deep into her, wishing he was coating her insides, filling her with her sperm. But as it was, this was not bad either. In fact, even with the stupid condom, it was really good. The best. He hissed as his cock throbbed inside of her, his long dick pumping his come out to the tip and into the condom.
She felt him twitching inside of her as his orgasm shot through his cock. He was a glorious sight to behold above her. His panted breaths and mouth dropped open as ecstasy took over his features. Her pussy was doing that to him. It made her smile as he stilled his hips and let out a low rumble. She did that to him. She’d made him come twice in one night. She made Harry Styles have two orgasms and he gave her three. Unheard of. Absolutely insane.
Her chest was still rising and falling heavily as Harry opened his eyes and looked down at her. She felt it, the way he looked at her. How connected they were. This wasn’t just sex. Or maybe it was, she really wouldn’t know because she’d been out of the game for some time. Perhaps this was just how he was with everyone he fucked. Made them dreamy and drowsy and feel things deeply for him. His charm was off the charts. Perhaps it was just that. Maybe nothing more.
Harry leaned down kissed the edge of her mouth and then pressed his lips firmly over hers, his cock still half-hard inside of her. He could get used to this. She was so open with him and somehow they just worked together. And even though this was all physical, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this connection went beyond the physical. He did like her. A lot. Already. But that was how he was. He’d fall in love and then fall out of it just as quickly. He had to be careful. Not to hurt himself. Not to hurt her. He gazed down at her with a tired smile.
“Stay the night. Want you again in the morning. Would like to have you here with me in bed. Keep me warm.”
She swallowed and her heart thrashed in her chest. He was too good. This man could make anyone fall in love. She knew it. But she wasn’t going to say no. She likely would never have the chance with him again. And if the following morning was anything like what had just happened, well, she quickly found herself nodding, “Yes. Okay.”
. . .
She felt her thighs tingling and her hips were aching when she squinted her eyes open. She couldn’t read the clock on the table next to the bed. Her vision was blurry but the sun was peeking through the cracks of the curtains. It was morning. And the only reason she’d woken up was because Harry was lying behind her. He was moving the slightest with his chest pressed against her back and his breath on her neck.
She lifted her head and Harry perked up when he realized she was awake, “Good thing you’re awake. Was getting lonely here,” he spoke as he softly grazed his hand up over her tummy and then indulgently squeezed at her breast.
She swallowed and croaked out her words, “I would have slept longer I think.”
“You can go back to sleep if you really want,” he suddenly shifted and rutted into her bottom and it was then that she felt his stiff cock pressing into her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for more of him, “Um… I’m a little sore-“
“Yeah? Did I go too hard for you last night?” Harry continued pushing his cock into her cheeks. They were both naked so the sensation of his warm, big, prick pushing into her plump flesh was quite salacious.
“I actually loved it. Never thought I’d like anything like that…”
“Mmm… loved it you say? And you’re sure you’re too sore for one more? I can go in gently and make you come again. One more for the road?” He kissed her neck as he continued humping her. His cock was already leaking he was so hard for her, so needy for her pussy again.
Harry was quite convincing. And she was already getting turned on by the way he was pressing into her and kissing her neck. And he wanted her again?
“Well, if you can be gentle then I think I’d like that.”
Harry smiled into her neck and massaged her breast in gratitude before bringing his hand down to her hip and pulling at her so he could see her pussy lips peeking out between the back of her thighs when he backed up just a bit and stroked his cock through her soft labia.
“You’re already wet for me, baby. So needy for Daddy’s cock even when she’s sore. Gonna take good care of you okay?”
Pressing his tip to her entrance he groaned when he realized he needed a condom. He felt like soon enough, if she wanted to stick around, they’d forgo the safety measure. He wanted so badly to fuck her raw but it was too soon, “Fuck. I need to grab a condom. Stay right here.”
Harry was back behind her in only a handful of moments. She’d already begun rubbing her clit in preparation for him. She wanted to make sure she was fully aroused and ready for his wide cock.
“Good girl. Keep rubbing yourself like that. See how juicy you are already? Perfect…” he nearly purred as he pushed into her tight muscle. It was especially taut as he snapped forward and his wide crown finally popped into her. Once he had the swollen tip inside of her he pushed in until he was met with a bit of resistance. She was extra sensitive and snug but the sensation was incredible as her soft walls squeezed around him, the deeper he got the tighter it felt.
He was slow and gentle just like he said he’d be. He massaged her tit and kissed her neck and her jaw as he slowly rolled his hips into her.
“S’like fucking an angel. Your pussy is so goddamn perfect, baby. M’obessessed. Your body,” he pinched her nipple, “your tits, your lips,” each part he commented on he fucked inward with a slightly harder push, just to make his point as he lowered his hand down the curve of her waist to her hip, “your fine ass. All so perfect.”
Y/n breathed his words in as his cock drove into her deep, filling her so fully and perfectly. Those things had never been said to her before. Not in that way. She slipped her fingers back and forth over her clit and the tips of her fingers were grazing his cock as he fucked into her slowly, deeply. Everything was wet and perfect. He was right. This did feel perfect. Felt better than any other fucking ever. Harry was so good in bed. He hit all her spots (mentally and physically).
“I need it. Harry, I need it so bad,” she surprised herself as she moaned the words.
But suddenly Harry stopped, pushing his cock as deep as it could get and he grabbed her chin and turned her head so she could see him from her peripheral, “Call me Daddy when I’m fucking you. Be a good girl and I’ll let you come again.”
Why did she find that so hot? So fucking appealing? She had no idea. It was like something had been turned on inside of her that she had no clue was lying there beneath the surface. Maybe it was just Harry. But whatever it was she’d be fantasizing about this and needing this dominance in bed from any future partners.
“Sorry. Yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl.”
Harry groaned and released her chin and began to pump into her plump folds and she sped up her fingers as he spoke into her ear, “Say it again. Say you need me.”
She swallowed and her face was boiling hot as Harry’s long cock pressed into her guts and then backed out, punching her walls apart with each plunge, “I… fuck… yesss! I need you, Daddy. Please…”
Harry choked out a groan and smacked her bottom, “God I’m gonna imagine those words coming from your mouth every night. Say it again. Louder. Come on baby…”
Her voice was shaky like her thighs as her brain began to unravel and her orgasm started to spring out from her center, “I need you, Daddy! I’m your good girl!” She moaned as loudly as possible and Harry smiled with his cock happily coated in her.
Just then a knock came to the door, “Mr. Styles?” Someone spoke from behind the wood.
“Fuck,” Harry spoke lowly. He never stopped rolling his hips into hers as he shouted, “I’m busy!”
“Sorry to bother you. But we’ve been trying to call you all morning. We have a package delivery for you from the Secrist Gallery. Shall we just leave it out here?”
Everything paused. Y/n craned her neck to look at Harry and when their eyes met she saw his dark pupils and wet pink lips, messy hair. He was an angel, grinning at her, “Just leave it out there. I’ll be out soon.”
“Secrist Gallery? Did you-“
Harry pushed his mouth to hers and began to thrust again, speaking against her lips, “Keep rubbing that pussy for Daddy. It’s time to come. Need you to come.”
Her half-melted brain complied and as Harry increased his pace their bodies began to slap together, wet noises coming from them on each stroke. Harry kept his tongue in her mouth and his fingers pinching her nipple as they writhed together.
She felt him slicing into her, his cock suddenly harder than steel inside of her and her fingers slippery over her clit. He was shaking, holding back his release and his kisses became sloppy, wet, wide-open-mouthed, tongue all over her lips and inside of her mouth.
She inhaled sharply when the dam broke. She moaned into his mouth and he moaned into hers as they both came at the same time, she pushed against him to get him deeper inside and he stuffed himself into the hilt, his balls thick and bursting tucked up against her as he spilled into his condom. Her vision went dark and her ears began to ring as Harry continued to kiss her, lick her, suck the life out of her.
It was insane how hard she came. She had never had a man so effortlessly work her up and make her come like Harry had. Wave after wave of electricity zipped through her body as she pulsed and sucked his cock in, gripping around him.
Eventually, they stopped moving and began to breathe again. Heavy pants and soft coos fell from their lips. The afterglow was incredible. Harry hadn’t felt it like that before. And he hated that he had to leave. That he needed to send her off and go away to his next destination.
When her brain began to fit itself back together inside of her skull she turned again to look at him as he slid out, “Did you buy a painting? Of mine?”
Harry rolled onto his back and smirked at her, “I did.”
She laughed and smacked his chest, “Which one? Why didn’t you say anything? How did you do it? I didn’t see you at the gallery.”
Harry sat up and pulled at Y/n’s arm, needing her closer, “I had one of my assistants go and take a photo of each one. I picked the one I liked the most. You named the piece The Lonely Dark. Love it. I loved a lot of them. But figured for now just one will do since I’ve got to have it shipped to LA.
The Lonely Dark. A sort of nod to her husband. What had been and the way she felt at night when she was alone with no one. She swallowed and Harry kissed her cheek, “Is it okay that I bought one? Is that weird?”
Y/n laughed and shook her head, “No. I’m flattered that Harry Styles wanted to buy a painting of mine. I’m gonna tell everyone that you own one of my pieces now.”
“Yeah? Maybe I’ll invite you to my house in LA when I get back to the States after the next leg of my tour so you can see where I’ve hung it.”
She pushed at him in jest, “Yeah right. Don’t tease. You don’t actually want me at your private home.”
Harry grabbed her hand and brought it up to his chest with a frown on his face, “Why wouldn’t I?”
Shaking her head she blinked her eyes, “Because. You’re Harry Styles. I’m some girl from the Midwest who paints. I’m just saying, don’t say things like that when you don’t mean it.”
“But I meant it. I really like you, Y/n. I want to see you again.”
It was unexpected. She didn’t imagine he’d actually be inviting her to his home or telling her he wanted to see her again. But she was so stunned by his admission that she couldn’t think of anything to say except, “Well then you’re gonna need to give me your number.”
Chapter 2
Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist
Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕
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hooked, jh86
in which jack is quite literally sleeping with the enemy.
most of the rangers give me egregious vibes so there are hardly any in here and i used their ig handles for twitter i didn't feel like finding the correct ones - set in 2023-24 season
jackhughes
liked by yourusername, nicohischier and 147,122 others
jackhughes: drives me mad
view 1,239 comments..
yourusername: in ny we hard launch like grownups
→ jackhughes: oh yeah?
→ yourusername: once you fuck this one up i’ll swoop in and prove it to u hughesy ;)
trevorzegras: admitting that you’re easily rizzed is crazy
→ jackhughes: easily 🤨
→ trevorzegras: ‘the hit could’ve been harder maybe she likes me 🤭’
→ user: did she hit him with her car or????
user: hit? as in like hockey hit? y/n??????
→ user: she just threatened to mr steal your girl him tho so idk
yourusername: jhugh big foot guy eh?
→ jackhughes: what the fuck y/n
_quinnhughes: luke?
→ lhughes_06: i can’t even explain without giving myself a migraine
dawson1417: i’m telling nico
→ jackhughes: there’s nothing to tell nico 🤨
→ nicohischier: nico uses context clues to deduce things
elblue6: ❤️
view more comments..
yourusername
liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes and 129,483 others
yourusername: van @ nyr except i adopted the sad one
jack was there too, unfortunately
load 1,612 comments..
jackhughes: now what is this
→ yourusername: i’m already planning on adding z to my collection when the ducks are up here
→ trevorzegras: did u just say collection
→ jackhughes: so you wanna be friends with all my friends but i try and be friends w u and i’m gross? ouch
→ yourusername: have u ever considered that you’re my teams rival
→ jackhughes: i’ve considered it and also decided it won’t stop me
→ yourusername: have you considered that you’re icky
→ jackhughes: wtf
_quinnhughes: ankle biter
→ yourusername: it was his shoulder and i can bite him whenever i want
nyrangers: traitor :(
→ yourusername: no admin it’s ok it’s the good hughesy
→ lhughes_06: i’ve done nothing to you
→ yourusername: you get in my way a lot
shesterkinigor: funny
→ yourusername: i try
view more comments..
njdevils
liked by yourusername, dougieham and 17,444 others
njdevils: we guess this one’s not so bad 😉 @yourusername
view 592 comments..
user: this is.. unsettling
user: him patting her after every connection was top tier i need her in a devs jersey
yourusername: don’t let this fool you i still like quinn better
→ jackhughes: will you let me have this one
→ yourusername: you’re lucky i didn’t throw the game just so you’d lose
→ lhughes_06: there’s always next year
nyrangers: we can admit that this one (1) thing is cute
→ yourusername: enemies to lovers??????
→ nyrangers: no, y/n.
→ yourusername: ok attitude
jackhughes: thanks for the passes or whatever @yourusername
→ yourusername: shut up
user: they’re sleeping in the same hotel room??
→ yourusername: no j just commits some light b&e in his free time
→ jackhughes: did you just call me j
→ yourusername: i also called you a felon
→ trevorzegras: i think he’s just gonna look right past that
user: loving the full blown conversations happening in comment sections lately
view more comments..
yourusername
liked by elblue6, dougieham and 179,537 others
yourusername: ⛽️
view 2,029 comments..
jackhughes: i thought nyers hard launched 🤨
→ yourusername: do you have my notifs on??
→ jackhughes: no comment
user: those are jacks hands
→ user: why do you… know that, even?
user: this is why the nhl is all men lmao they aren’t focused on fucking their opponents
→ yourusername: oh babe.. i have some news for you
→ user: ITS A PLAYER?????????
dougieham: gross
→ yourusername: behave douglas
lhughes_06: what pro hockey player has another man tie her skates for her
→ yourusername: the kind that knows your address and will take your ligaments away
nyrangers: our girl
→ user: can i have your girl
→ njdevils: ^
→ nyrangers: no
_quinnhughes: you hurt my brain
→ yourusername: ok
user: THE TYING THE SKATES!!! JACKS SOFT LAUNCH
view more comments..
twitterhockeybropodcast
y/n y/ln has allegedly requested a trade out of new york 👀
722 ❤ 312 ↳ 147 💬
view comments..
dawson1417: you know @/yourusername i’ve heard jerseys pretty nice
→ dawson1417: you wouldn’t even have to move!
→ yourusername: oh boy
trevorzegras: y/n/n y/ln YOU are an anaheim duck
→ _quinnhughes: step back off my teammate
→ yourusername: you’re both delusional
user: awh the guys wanting her on their teams 🥹
colecaufield: i’ll teach you french @/yourusername
→ yourusername: i only want to know the bad words
→ colecaufield: that’s doable
→ yourusername: sold
user: quinn and the honorary hughes’ is cute but WHERE IS JACK??
→ user: right like he hasn’t even liked it
→ user: he took down his soft launch?
edwards.73: you will eventually get to play with me if you go to jersey @/yourusername
→ yourusername: it's really cute that you though this would help build your case ed
→ edwards.73: can't blame a guy for trying
jackhughes: does this mean we can be friends now?
→ yourusername: oh lol sure
→ user: oh this was painful to read
to, j 💥: is everything ok?? read, 6:33pm
to, j 💥: jack what the hell read, 7:12pm
to, j 💥: you can't really be moody cause i requested a trade from a team you don't even play for lmao
from, j 💥: i'm at practice. talk later
to, j 💥: i'm literally with daws and luke right now dude
to, j 💥: wtf did i do?? read, 7:44pm
to, j 💥: since when am i the one begging to make this work????
to, j 💥: you've been telling me for fucking months you didn't care what it meant as long as we could try us out
to, j 💥: you can't tell me how much you want me around one day and work so hard to make me believe you and then completely flip my world around the next that's not fair read, 8:19pm
to, j 💥: i at least deserve an explanation
from, jack: maybe i'm sick of people telling me i'm fucking up my whole life for you and that you're just gonna dump me before the playoffs so i lose focus
to, jack: hello?? lose focus against the team i'm requesting to leave?
to, jack: and who is people? all i've done is prove that i wouldn't fucking do that
to, jack: i'm literally with two of your teammates right now read, 8:25pm
to, jack: whatever, j. i asked for a trade for you lmao
from, jack: how is that for me? you're gonna be in a completely different fucking state and we'll never see each other
to, jack: that's what this is abt?? you could've just said something, j
from, jack: i don't think you can just unrequest the trade, y/n.
from, jack: what's done is done
to, jack: what would've happened if they just traded me regardless of if i asked?? would you have shut me out cause you don't like the distance when it wasn't my fault?
from, jack: that's different and u know it
to, jack: whatever jack
to, jack: see you wednesday
from jack: against the avs?? you got traded to fucking colorado?
to, jack: no. i got traded to the devils.
njdevils
ranger devil 😈 @/yourusername
2922 ❤ 456 ↳ 78 💬
view comments..
yourusername: i've always looked good in red
→ njdevils: our girl
dawson1417: FUCK YEAHHHH
→ yourusername: LEFT LOCKER NEIGHBOUR!!
→ dawson1417: RIGHT LOCKER NEIGHBOUR !!!!!!
lhughes_06: i'm gonna get bullied so much more often
→ yourusername: amen to that moosey
→ lhughes_06: no, not amen to that y/n/n
user: again i ask WHERE IS JACK
nicohischier: another one that won't listen to me
→ yourusername: not reporting for duty, cap 🫡
→ nicohischier: i'm not endeared
→ yourusername: fuck yeah you are
trevorzegras: i know i'm not meant to take personal offence to this but i am
→ yourusername: quinn is GROUCHY
→ _quinnhughes: why does jack get all the cool people i want to have a lake house adoptee on the canucks
→ yoursername: just bring petey
→ eliaspettersson_: do not volunteer me for that chaos
user: i'm kinda concerned at the lack of jack and y/n lately like what happened
jackhughes: new liney?
→ yourusername: new liney :)
→ lhughes_06: 🤨
→ user: luke don't expose your brother's weird cryptic comments as being weird and cryptic challenge
→ lhughes_06: hmm no
njdevils
liked by nicohischier, jackhughes and 34,899 others
njdevils: we think we've seen this film before and we loved the ending (bratter - jack - y/n/n line supremacy)
view 583 comments..
jackhughes: start building the statue
→ yourusername: fucking right
user: the way that she just screamed in his face on her first assist to his goal i could SOB
→ user: and his fucking SMILE BACK AT HER
→ user: and her third goal!! the jump into his arms
user: in love w them actually
→ njdevils: us too
lhughes_06: they should've smooched on centre ice with the hats falling down
→ lhughes_06: what lol who said that
dawson1417: RIGHT LOCKER NEIGHBOUR DID THAT
→ yourusername: i couldn't have done wonderwall with out your harmonizing merc
→ dawson1417: i do have the voice of an angel
trevorzegras: i love how it feels to be a hater
→ _quinnhughes: ^
→ yourusername: wonderwall concert, 5pts, and i got quinn hughes to agree with trevor zegras. i am her.
yourusername
liked by jackhughes, nicohischier and 289,111 others
yourusername: j <3
view 677 comments..
jackhughes: favourite liney?
→ yourusername: forever liney
lhughes_06: open your messages you demonic being
→ yourusername: do u know how much EFFORT that is
→ lhughes_06: i could imagine it's not a lot??
dawson1417: yucky
→ yourusername: we facetime like teenaged girls n you and ryleigh screeched in excitement when you recognized his room this morning
→ dawson1417: ok???? i screeched cause of the yuckiness
_quinnhughes: i guess you not being a canuck is tolerable if this is the outcome
→ trevorzegras: speak for yourself quintin i want her to be my liney forever 😾
→ yourusername: sorry z <3
→ jackhughes: she's not sorry
→ yourusername: i'm sort of sorry
→ trevorzegras: good enough!
user: SCREAMING AND CRYING OMG
→ user: WE'VE BEEN WAITING
user: mom n dad
dougieham: this is terrefying
→ yourusername: ok
john.marino97: new reality tv show live in the locker room except theres no drama it's just hughesy being whipped
→ yourusername: your favourite!
→ john.marino97: i hate every second
njdevils: it's not like we saw this coming or anything
→ yourusername: ADMIN
view more comments..
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Hiii! I have a request.
Something that starts with smut and ends with angst.
My idea is that Hualian and we would be having casual sex, until one had the idea to try to do something rougher. Of course, before doing so, they asked for our consent, and believing that it would be no big deal, we accepted.However, after the first slap we receive, s/o ends up being a little shocked and scared, but not wanting to spoil the fun he kind of accepts.The smut would continue normally, our character would break even when he was in a position that was kind of "suffocated" (it can be the one that the person takes in the ass and in the mouth at the same time, wow it was funny to write this 😂), and because he can't breathe properly and already feeling pain due to previous actions, the character starts to cry and pats the thigh of whoever was in front of him. As soon as his mouth is freed, he speaks the safe word while his body trembles in terror.I would like it to end with anguish or comfort, but I leave that to the writer's discretion!
The idea in general is this, but if you feel that an ending with only dialogue doesn't look so cool, you can include a soft smut!!Thank you for your attention and please take care of yourself ;) Also, sorry if there were any grammatical mistakes, English is not my first language.
Too Much
Hualian x gn!reader
Tw!!! Safe word usage, NSFW, slapping
I just don't feel like my writing has been up to par lately y'all 🖐️😃🔫
____________________________________
You're sandwiched
Literally.
It's one of those nights when all three of you happen to be free of duties, and all of you are home. So what do you guys do when you're all home? Have sex.
It's nothing over the top, just casual, cuddly, sleepy, gentle sex. Hua Cheng is slowly fucking you from behind, but just because he's slow doesn't mean he isn't reaching deep. His dick is big and Hua Cheng knows how to use it, effectively hitting that spot that makes you moan and cry for more.
Xie Lian sits on the edge of the bed near your head. He runs his fingers through your hair and every so often he'll share kisses with you or San Lang. No one knows why and nobody asks, he just has a thing for watching.
You're lying on your back, eyes shut, with soft whimpers at Hua Cheng takes his time with you. Xie Lian runs the back of his nails across your cheek to get your attention. "Baobei, do you think you would be alright if this one were to get a little rough with you?" He hums softly smiling down at you.
Xie Lian always asks, he never dares to put his hands on you without permission. San Lang stares and waits for your answer, because although he won't be hitting you he'd like to fuck you deeper if you'd allow him to. And of course you trust your lovers wholeheartedly, you've gotten rough before so what's new? "Yes, that's fine"
As soon as yes slips past your lips Hua Cheng takes the invitation to quicken the smack of his hips against your ass. He loves to fuck you fast and deep, he really just likes to make you feel good. You yelp when he suddenly flips you onto your stomach and plunges into your hole again. Hua Cheng easily manhandles you around, bruising clutch on your hips and thighs.
Xie Lian catches your attention when he moves in front of you so that your chin rests on his soft, milky thigh. You go to say something to him but you're interrupted when his hand slaps across your cheek. "Don't speak unless you're spoken too, Qin Ai De"
It was relatively normal. It wasn't unusual for Xie Lian to get a little rough with you and make rules for you. It wasn't uncommon for him to say degrading things if you had allowed him to. The slap hurt and you're barely able to process it with how rough Hua Cheng is fucking you. It honestly leaves you a little frightened and on edge. You don't know why, this is a relatively normal bedroom activity but today it doesn't sit right with you.
Maybe you're just overthinking it, so you let them throw you around some more and you let the night keep going. It's not until later into the night that everything goes horribly wrong.
Hua Cheng is still fucking you from behind but Xie Lian has no joined in on the fun and he's fucking your throat. Also not uncommon. It was usual for you to let them do this, keep all your holes filled at all times. You enjoyed it usually but today it feels awful and no matter how much they fuck into you or talk to you, you don't feel good. Your skin pricks with discomfort and you can't stop squirming which had earned you a few more slaps.
You haven't said anything though, you wanted to make your lovers feel good they deserved that much but you can't. You feel like you're going to hurl on Xie Lian's dick if they don't stop. You feel disgusting, and smothered. It feels suffocating.
Tears align your vision and your hand smacks against Xie Lian's thigh. Albeit confused, he immediately pulls back and Hua Cheng pulls out as well. You cough and spit up mumbling the safe word through harsh pants and that's all it takes for them to know tonight's done.
Hua Cheng gets off the bed and you don't really get an opportunity to see where he went because Xie Lian holds your face in his hands. "What's wrong? Did we go too far, baobei?"
You want to answer but you end up just sobbing in his hands. He lets you curl up on his lap while he threads his fingers through your hair, cooing at you and telling you that you had been very good, that you had done well. Hua Cheng comes back with warm towels to clean the three of you up, and he carefully washes whatever swear or stickiness covers your body.
It's silent for a while, not an uncomfortable silence, calm and safe. You eventually speak up. "I'm sorry... I- when you slapped me I got scared and it just set me off for the whole night. I don't know why, I'm sor-"
Hua Cheng kisses the corner of your mouth to shush you. "Sorry for what? You do not need a reason to feel unsafe or uncomfortable. We'll always stop if you are. Do not feel sorry for us" Hua Cheng lies atop of you like a log. His face is scrunched, like he's personally offended at himself for not noticing.
Xie Lian runs his fingers across your cheek, peppering soft kisses across your face. "It's alright, this one apologizes. I won't slap you in the future, Qin Ai De. You know we love you dearly, we would never hurt you purposefully. You must tell us immediately next time Y/n we don't wish to make you feel this way ever again." his brows are furrowed and you can tell he's probably beating himself up over it.
You don't feel suffocated anymore. You nuzzle Xie Lian's leg. Mumbling a soft "Okay... M'love you both"
They both know that there won't be anymore sex tonight so they both cuddle up next to you and dote on you until you fall asleep.
#tgcf#tgcf headcanon#hualian#hualian x reader#hua cheng x reader#tgcf hua cheng#tgcf xie lian#xie lian x reader#tgcf hualian#tgcf x male reader
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LOVE WILL TEAR US APART — CARMEN BERZATTO (part 1)
summary You come back to Chicago for the first time since Christmas five years ago. Seeing Carmen might just split you wide open.
length 5.4k
contents angst, childhood friends to not friends not lovers but a secret third thing, very deeply requited love and everyone knows it except them, family troubles/fighting (giving y’all the Berzatto special), takes place the year of Mikey’s passing so everything is still fresh n rly painful, reader has the nickname ‘Birdie’, there's some fluff dw, happy endings are overrated we die like men
note this was originally going to be 1 part but seeing as the doc is reaching 13k words…here’s just the beginning :)
Wind comes from the pale gray sky and bites at your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Fingers go stiff, a chill runs from the nape of your neck down your spine. Maybe you should’ve worn more than just your jacket; Chicago’s always been a little colder than New York, anyway. You tend to forget the little things.
The windows of the Berzatto house glow yellow with company, and you can hear the bustle just by standing at the door, frosted glass animated by guests. You can picture it like it was yesterday: white yellow lights around every corner, the table set in full with porcelain and silver, hollow presents under the tree, too much talking to hear yourself think. You can still go home to at least save yourself the trouble. Can’t lose if you don’t try, right?
For once, it’s Richie who greets you—not like Mikey’s around to do it anymore, to pull you into a bear hug and tell you how much you’ve grown up, to ease you into the chaos he struggles to navigate himself. Struggled, you have to remind yourself. Past tense.
“Birdie!” he calls out to you, opening the door wide before you can knock, half-expecting you to walk yourself in before meeting you on the porch instead with a big smile.
You look up at him as he plants his warm hands on your shoulders. He’s taller than you remember, but five years time leaves a lot in the ruins. “Hey, Richie.” You lean into the hug and into his chest to at least try to catch your breath, to try and slow down your heart’s racing.
He rubs your back ever so slightly. “It’s good t’see you, kid. ‘S been a while, I missed you ‘n that smile ‘f yours.” He gives you two pats and pulls back to hold you by your arms as he gives you a good look. His brows twitch, subtle enough to nearly miss it, with a sympathetic curve to his mouth. “You doin’ alright?”
Since Mikey died is what he means to add to the end of the question. Maybe it’s Since you up an’ left us. Or Now that you’re finally free.
You stick with the first one and just nod. “I’m okay.” Your eyes flit back to his face before landing on the front door, unease pooling in your gut. “A little nervous to be back in so long.” You let your voice go quiet, and you look at your hands and with wet eyes while your fingers fidget like a tall child. “And I…I miss him, y’know?…I should’ve—” you’re getting choked up now, throat growing tight— “I should’ve been here, or—”
His brows really furrow this time, head tilting to the side before he looks to the sky to bite back any real sadness that could come through in his voice, to keep you from seeing it. Bringing you into a hug again, he mutters, “Shhh, don’t beat yourself up about it, sweetheart. I know you miss him, I know.” A gentle kiss to the top of your head. “We all do.”
Growing up across the street from the Berzattos led them to be a second family to you—and, by extension, Richie, for how inseparable he and Mikey were. Much of your memories as a kid were the two older boys, already teens by the time you came into the picture: Mikey and Richie taking you out to ice cream, Mikey and Richie pushing you on the swings down at the playground, Mikey and Richie teaching you to ride a bike. They might as well have been your older brothers by blood. They always cherished and doted on you, and while it changed in manner as you grew older—from piggy back rides to intimidating prom dates—it was always there. They always cared. Richie still does. Maybe double as much to make up for what’s been lost.
You don’t cry so much into his chest. A few tears fall, sure, but you use the time to just breathe, to close your eyes, to stall. Sniffling, you pull away, wipe your eyes, and straighten your clothes, smoothing creases. “Okay,” you huff. “I’m okay. I’m ready.”
A knowing look. “You sure?”
You nod. “Yeah, I’m good.” Another sniffle. “Promise.”
Richie turns to face the house with you, opening the door while the other hand stays hovering by your shoulder. With the smallest shift in the hinges, noise spills out the door. Small talk in the living room, clinking of glass against tabletops, boisterous laughter, timers ringing in the kitchen, Donna’s voice rolling in. It’s more than you remember. Heavier. Hotter. Richie motions to take your coat and you happily oblige, left to pick at the hems of your sleeves rather than buttons and pockets.
“So,” Richie starts, and with the way he says it you’d think you look like you’re about to pass out, “How’s New York treatin’ ya lately? You a hot-shot lawyer yet?”
You laugh softly, partly to be nice and partly to stave off the awkwardness you feel, like you’re being watched by the rest of the family. “I just passed the bar this year, Richie, I’m barely an associate—”
“Right, right, right—all that stuff goes over my head. Whatever, you’re a genius in my book.”
You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, well the people I work with are just—they’re incredible, how smart they are. I’m a baby compared to them.”
He waves it off as if to say Fuck ‘em. “How’s the livin’ situation, then? You affordin’ it okay, eatin’ good, all that?” He looks a little more stern, more brotherly when he asks it.
“I’m fine.” You look up at him and smile to let him know you’re honest, that you aren’t just saying it to get him off your back. “I really like it out there. I made decent enough money as a paralegal, and I have a roommate with a cushy job in finance. We’re pretty close, but we don’t see each other often with our hours ‘n stuff. Not the best,” you shrug, “But I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.”
He pauses, looks you over to see you’re genuine. “Alright,” he sighs, pulling you into his side and squeezing you tight because he knows you hate it. “I believe ya.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, fuck you.” You’re laughing a little harder for the first time since arriving in Chicago, and it reminds you that it can be close to normal, coming home. “Where’s Nat? I haven’t talked to her since I got off the plane.”
“She’s upstairs resting.” He lets go and starts drifting to the kitchen absentmindedly—why, you’re not sure. “The baby’s got her in a mood, kickin’ ‘n all that, the little fucker—but Pete ‘n Carm ‘r down here somewhere—”
Your heart stops, and for a moment you can’t hear anything but your own thoughts, fragments of his voice and his laughter from memory. Your chest goes tight, your throat runs dry. You knew from Nat and Richie that he’d come back to Chicago a while ago, after Mikey’s funeral, but never in a million years did you think he’d come to Christmas dinner. Richie doesn’t seem as shocked as you think he should be. “Carmen? He’s here?” You nearly whisper it, afraid to be heard if he’s nearby.
He stops walking. “In the kitchen, yeah, why? You talk to ‘im in a while? Figured he’d’ah told ya, me ‘n Nat had to convince ‘im. A real jagoff about it, by the way.” His tone doesn’t say anything more than his words do. Maybe he’s forgotten about everything, or he’s trying to spare you. Maybe he never knew all that much to begin with.
“No,” you answer, quiet with an ache in your chest you haven’t felt in years. “We don’t…we haven’t really talked since the last time I was here…” And I don’t want to change that at the moment is what you don’t say, bile in your throat at the thought of peeling back scabbed wounds.
Before Richie can comment, a loud voice comes to you from the front room: “Is that my little Birdie?”
Cicero. You missed him, honestly.
He huffs himself out of his seat in the living room and welcomes you in the foyer, bringing your attention away from Richie like you’d been hoping to. “Oh, I missed you,” he says, giving a brief kiss to your cheek.
You hug him in return, but really you’re just hoping to get away from the kitchen. “Missed you too.”
Resting his hands on your shoulders, he smiles and looks at your face. “You’ve only gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you. Like an angel.” He doesn’t let you protest, he only peeks behind you to look at Richie, who leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “Ain’t she beautiful, Richie?”
“Yeah,” he deadpans, unamused. “A real treat she is.”
Cicero looks back to you and speaks lowly. “Ignore that son ‘f a bitch. He’s just jealous ‘cause you’re my favorite.” He winks, gestures to the living room, and takes a few steps while he brings his voice back to a normal volume. “C’mon, tell this ol’ geezer about New York—can’t even remember the last time I was there, musta been ‘83—”
If the rest of the night is like this, you think, Carmen might not be so much of an issue. He could be nothing at all, like he always wanted to be.
He promises himself that he’ll say something by the end of the night. He has to, he thinks, and if not to avoid being an asshole, then to avoid getting reamed by Richie. Carmen realizes he has the upper hand, too, whether he likes it or not: he at least expected you to be here. That doesn’t make it any less terrifying to hear your name.
The first time is when he’s cutting onions as Richie opens the door, and he gets lucky enough to hear nothing else but the door shutting afterward. An afterthought, a mirage maybe.
In between that and the second, his name slips by your lips. You whisper it, of course, because you hate him—you hate him for the way he treated you, and for the way he didn’t, and for the fact that he wasn’t man enough to ever speak to you about any of it, or speak to you at all. And despite the fact you try to hide it when you say it, he hears you; he doesn’t think anything could keep him from doing that much. Especially not when it sounds just like you did years ago on those half-broken steps to the back porch, after everything went to shit and there was a hole in the fucking house and you couldn’t stop crying if you tried. He was there for you like he always was: letting you lean your head on his shoulder as you wept, one arm holding you tight to keep you grounded while the other hand nursed a cigarette to keep himself sane. And his name sounded just like it does tonight when you turned to look at him with bleary eyes so many years ago, whispering Carmen? so sweet he wanted to taste the lip gloss that flavored it. That night he did, for a fleeting moment. Before he ruined it.
So of course, he hears you say his name, and he knows it’s you. He doesn’t think anything could keep him from knowing you.
The second time he hears your name it’s like a confirmation. A confirmation that it’s real, you’re real, and you’re here, and it isn’t his mind playing tricks on him like it does when it’s late at night and he’s walking the streets and thinks he sees a girl that looks like you. The rest of the dialogue after the fact goes blurry, the timers going off turn into a monotone buzz, all he hears is chopchopchop against the cutting board until Uncle Jimmy calls you beautiful. He’s sure you are, but he doesn’t want to see it and believe it even more. Your heels click against the hardwood a few times, and he’s not sure where Ma went, but Richie’s standing behind him saying something he can’t decipher and he wants to tell him to Fuck off but he can’t, not now, not tonight.
“Cousin!” Richie snaps, pushing his shoulder. “Did you hear a word I just said?”
He sighs and looks over his shoulder but stays gripping the knife. “No, sorry, say it again—‘m listenin’.”
“Right. So when’s the last time you talked t’her?”
His hand squeezes a little harder, the knife suffers for it. “Talk t’who?”
A quick bang of a hand to the counter top leaves the onions rattled. “Don’t play stupid with me right now, Cousin—” a harsh finger points in Carmen’s face— “or I swear t’God I will fuck you up once this dinner’s over.”
He pauses. He looks past Richie into the foyer where you once stood but quickly goes back to work. Chop. “Look, I dunno, it—it’s just been a while, I dunno the exact fuckin’ date, alright?” Oh, but how vividly he does.
“Yeah? How’s five years to the fuckin’ day sound? Pretty damn accurate, or what?”
No response. Chop.
“You’re a real piece’ah fuckin’ work, y’know that, right?” Richie sounds about as angry as he’s ever been, but it’s different this time: it’s quiet, it’s controlled, it crawls up Carmen’s spine.
“It’s not—it’s not like I meant to, to, uh—”
“ ‘To, to, uh’ what?” he mocks. “To pull the shit you did then go fuckin’ AWOL on ‘er?”
Another beat of silence. Laughter trails in from the living room, and he starts to wonder if it’s you who made it ring. He shakes his head, scrunches his nose. “H—…” Rethinking whether he wants the answer to his question, he puts the knife down and leans into his hands before looking over Richie’s shoulder again. “How, uh…how is she?” It’s muttered, ashamed, the way he asks it, brows furrowed with regret and slithers of hope. “ ‘S she doin’ alright?” He heard bits and pieces of the conversation from just a minute ago, but part of him needs this: to hear it crystal clear, to have it branded beneath his 773 tattoo you traced with an anxious finger, to have the pain be inadmissible such that he can’t forget it.
Without needing to look him in the eye Richie knows to soften his approach. Carmen’s eyes are wet, he’s got that solemn air to him that he gets when he’s thinking about something that forms lumps in his throat, he swipes his hand by his mouth like the words were bitter to say out loud.
He turns over his shoulder like he’ll get caught and looks down at the chef. “She’s good, Carm,” he sighs, nodding his head slowly and with raised brows. “Real good…Like Cicero said, she—she’s beautiful, ‘n she’s gotta career lined up for ‘er. But—” he hesitates when Carmen looks up— “The look on ‘er face, man, it—it changed when she found out you’re here.”
Something indescribable flows through his veins. “Wh—what d’ya mean?” He shakes his head in denial. “Like, like, it—what’d she look like?” He waits expectantly, and part of him hopes something hard and fast’ll put him out of his misery.
Richie swallows. He smooths a hand over his hair, lets it fall to the nape of his neck while his eyes dance elsewhere. “Listen, she…she just looked like—” He kisses his teeth, unsure of how to phrase it, weary of the first thing to come to mind and whether the subject was worth mentioning at all. He should lay it to rest.
But Carmen is ever the stubborn boy at heart. “Cousin.” Fingers drum against granite. “Looked like what?”
“...Like I’d just stabbed ‘er in the gut.”
The rest of the family is enthralled by you, though whether it’s because they haven’t seen you in five years and miss you, or because it finally gives them an excuse to make Lee let someone else talk, you’re not sure. But by the time they let you get a breath in it feels like three hours have gone by, though when you peek at your watch, it’s barely been thirty minutes. You’d forgotten how exhausting the family is when they’re all together. Your head hurts. It’s too hot. You could use a nap.
Cicero looks at you a little softer from his chair. “Would you like a drink, hon? I should've asked ya before we sat you down for an interrogation.”
“Oh, well,” you start, pausing to let it seem like you aren’t dying for that opportunity, “I’ll have one. Is there wine?”
“Of course there is. I’ll grab a glass for ya—” he begins rising from his chair, but you stop him.
“It’s alright,” you insist. “I don’t mind getting it—in the kitchen?”
He nods, and you’re on your way. You pass by Richie and the Faks in the foyer and try to hide the deep breaths you’re focusing on, eyes shut and shoulders shrugging as Richie eyes the kitchen before you enter like you’ll be walking into a war zone.
It’s exactly what you’d expect: Donna with a glass in hand, Carmen assisting, an ashtray full nearby. Natalie has joined them, so you must have missed her on her way downstairs, and Pete hovers beside her as she speaks to him with a worried look on her face, disjointed from the other two Berzattos.
You’ve nearly psyched yourself up enough to interrupt when Donna notices you, almost instantly placing her glass on the counter. “Oh, Birdie, I—” She looks happy, you think, but with her it’s never been easy to tell. “C’mere, honey.” She opens her arms to you and gifts you a hug, patting your back as she says, “It’s been so long, my beautiful Bird—” she pulls away to get a better look at you and plants a kiss to your cheek, just like Cicero— “Oh gosh, you’re so beautiful, all grown up.” She smells thickly of tobacco.
“Thank you,” you laugh, dazed by so much affection from her, “Cicero said the same, it’s just been a while.”
“Well—” she picks up her glass promptly after her hands leave you— “It’s true, you’re practically glowing. He knows what he’s talking about.” She takes a hefty sip like she can’t get enough, and quickly looks to her son. “Isn’t that right, Carmen?”
From where he stands nudged into the corner, focused on the countertop with nothing to do but wring his hands, his attention perks up to his mother. “What was that, Ma?”
You can’t ignore the fact that she hasn’t acknowledged Natalie nor Pete since you arrived; you’re stuck, looped in with Donna and Carmen and somehow obligated to stay there until you’ve been dismissed. You know how she is. Carmen won’t look at you, either.
“Look at Birdie,” Donna coos, and she gestures to present you to him. Your stomach turns. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” She smiles coolly, looks to Natalie only for a brief moment to rub salt in the wound.
Carmen, reluctantly, looks at you. His golden brown curls are disheveled as always, made messier by anxious runs of his fingers every few minutes. His mouth seems caught in a persistent pout that he won’t let up, and if it were years ago, you’d stay by his side until he broke you just to keep someone in his corner. Beneath his eyes rest dark circles, and he wears a forest green sweater you’ve never seen before. There’s a split second of eye contact that has your breath caught in your throat. You haven’t been able to look at him in what feels like a lifetime, let alone hear his voice—not even over the phone. It’s different than you remember, a little huskier, more fatigued. You wish you couldn’t care.
He gives a shallow nod and a shrug to Donna’s question. “Yeah.” His eyes meet yours accidentally again before looking back to his mother, apathy bordering on distaste. “She looks nice.”
You look nice. You don’t know what you thought he would say. Part of you wished he would’ve said exactly as Donna did, or that he’d use the word beautiful, or stunning, or pretty, even. But he’s never been one for words—his consolation offerings were limited to a shared cigarette and sitting beside you, and you’ve always resented that part of him since your last Christmas together. If he’d been better with words, it would’ve been just that; there wouldn’t have been the hand on your back turning into an arm wrapped around your shoulder, he never would’ve pressed his lips to your temple for the first time since you were in kindergarten, you would’ve never been close enough to smell tobacco on his breath. You never would’ve known what American Spirits taste like off of anxious lips or what it feels like to be worth everything and then nothing at all.
Donna kisses her teeth and gives you a sympathetic look as she cups her hand to your neck. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t listen to him. He’s just in a mood today.” She sips her wine again, which quickly turns into the rest of the glass.
That’s not a mood, you think. That’s just Carmen.
By the Berzatto standards, dinner preparation blows over without a hitch. The house smells divine, nothing is broken, no one has stormed out. Ma sits down with only five glasses of wine in her system. No one mentions the gaping hole in the seating arrangement at one head of the table—not even Lee.
Carmen feels the weight of it on his shoulders, and he thinks you feel it too. You sit for a few minutes as everyone settles with your head in your hands, eyes closed as you breathe. Every time you open your eyes they shoot to Mikey’s seat, only for your hands to cover them again with a sniffle. Richie keeps a good eye on you, even though they’re getting glassy from watching you, and he rests a soothing hand on your back before leaning down and whispering something Carmen doesn’t catch. You shake your head, perking back up again as you dab at your eyes with your sleeves, looking to Richie and mouthing the words I’m okay with a smile plastered on. Carmen’s skeptical.
Uncle Jimmy insists on saying grace as a way to honor both you and Carmen being in Chicago for the holiday, and instinctively he looks to you, looking for something to hold onto to let things feel normal with you, but you keep your eyes closed. Since you walked into the kitchen nearly an hour ago he hasn’t been able to get his mind off of the sweetheart neckline of your dress, or the locket pendant hanging close to your chest. Mikey gifted it to you, he remembers, when you earned your undergraduate degree—presented in a black velvet box when you saw him after the ceremony, you cried. Carmen wasn’t there; he was in Copenhagen, doing other things. He can’t quite remember what.
Grace gives way to a more quiet bustle of the dinner, where talking is more or less limited to passing plates and taking first bites, making sure everyone has said hello to everyone. He sits almost silent, taking a measly bite every few moments to avoid an excuse to talk. He notices you don’t navigate this dinner like you have the countless ones before: you’re engaged tonight, laughing with Richie beside you and looping Sugar and Pete into your banter; you’re no longer the teen you once were, who would sit at the end of the table with him to stay quiet and barely munch on dinner, the two youngest with Mikey to your sides, pestering the both of you to Eat, ‘fore Ma tells you to. And it’s not a bad thing, either. You always had that way about you like Mikey did, where you could make conversation with anyone, make them fall in love with you, make them think you’re their best friend. He’s always thought you were his, anyway. You look happier than he’s ever seen you. Ever since he could remember, he had a feeling you’d outshine him.
It’s like Ma said—you’re glowing.
It’s nearing fifteen minutes since the food being served when Sugar nudges him on his right. “You alright, Bear?” She keeps it quiet, under the radar. “You haven’t eaten much.”
He nods and takes a bite to cover his tracks. “Yeah, yeah—just not that hungry, ‘s all.” He hasn’t eaten today. It’s the nerves, really, of seeing everyone—of seeing Ma, seeing you. Brings him back to New York, where his morning ritual included huddling over the toilet and rinsing his mouth until he couldn’t taste stomach acid anymore. He’s hoping that with being in the kitchen all day, she doesn’t pry. “Thanks, Sug.”
She furrows her brows but drops the subject with a bit of a pout. “…Okay.”
“So,” Stevie starts, at the opposite corner of the table, leaning over his plate to smile at you from down the table. “Birdie—can I call you Birdie? Is that okay?”
You smile that smile you always do when you’re caught off-guard before shrugging lightheartedly and taking a bite. “Uh, sure. I mean, everyone here does.”
Richie makes eyes at you, weirded out, and Carmen tries to follow, but you only link with the older of the two. He’s shut out.
“Great. I’ve been wondering—why does everyone call you that? I mean, I know Sugar here’s got an origin story, so what’s yours?”
“Oh, this is such a sweet one,” Ma chimes in, hands over her heart. “They was so adorable, her ‘n Carmen.” The words have warmth blossoming in his chest and rising to his neck.
“Yeah,” you laugh, “I’m probably not the best person to tell you; I was really little.” You try to stifle a smile at the thought, and Carmen knows it’s the same thought as his: Mikey loved that story. “Richie’s probably man for the job.” You look up to the man on your left and pat him on the back to startle him. “Aren’t ya, Rich?”
“Uh, yeah, fuck that.” He nods to Carmen. “He can tell ya, Stevie, he was the one dancin’ with ‘er like an idiot, not me.” He shoves three bites’ worth of food into his mouth so he won’t have to talk anymore.
Sugar cuts in, “He was also five, he had nothin’ to do with picking that name.”
“Yeah?” he taunts, mouth still full because he can’t help but put up a fight, “Then you were eleven, missy, so you can tell it. You remember.”
The room starts spinning, there’s back and forth between Sugar and Richie, and Neil’s roped into it, and then Michelle’s convincing them to calm down, but Richie’s still going at it, starting to tell the story, but Ma says it’s not right, and Sugar cuts in again, and the room is still spinning and his head won’t stop pounding and there isn’t enough water in the world to clear his throat.
“Alright, alright!” It’s Uncle Jimmy now, almost shouting, waving his hands to simmer the room. Carmen would thank him if he could speak. “I’ll tell the damn story, you all settle down, eh?” He clears his throat, sips on his drink. “Our Birdie here, when she was real young, now she was a singer. All the time, some tune. Didn’t even have t’be a real song, she’d be hummin’ it anyway.”
You’re sheepish as Uncle Jimmy praises you, grinning to yourself and rolling your eyes at the embarrassment. Cute, Carmen thinks. He smiles and takes a bite of his food.
“An’ remember,” Uncle Jimmy continues, “This was late ‘90s, we didn’t have none’ah that YouTube, Spotify music bullshit, whatever’s popular with you people now—so anyway. We had this boombox for the longest time—”
“Yeah,” Richie interrupts, “Was a real piece a shit, that’s for damn sure.”
Cicero points to Richie while looking at Steve. “Correct. So one Christmas, many, many years ago—”
“Don’t make it sound so cryptic,” you giggle, and Carmen has a tiny fire lit in his chest, eyes trapped on your smile. He remembers that night—not so vividly, but enough.
“Right, right. I apologize, sweetheart.” Uncle Jimmy turns back to Stevie. “One Christmas the weather was especially bad—snow storm, crazy winds, Christmas lights flyin’ everywhere—and the power goes out. An’ our boombox ain’t workin’, got jammed or somethin’.” He shrugs, makes a face that’s unassuming. “So whatta ya do for the music, then? Everyone knows you need holiday music, eh?”
With you, Carmen laughs for the first time tonight. He likes it that way, uninterrupted by the noise of the other guests, who are all listening fondly and eating their meals. It’s like that special Christmas all over again. You’re so pretty when you’re laughing, part of him is a little jealous that anyone else gets to see you like this.
“So Mikey comes up with a great idea. We already got a singer, right? So we just need ‘er to do the holiday songs. So we get ‘er, ‘n we ask her to sing for us all—me, Donna, Mikey, Richie, Sugar, ‘n Carmen, that was it ‘cause ‘ah the storm—but she won’t do it.”
“They were tryin’ to force me, Stevie!” You smile up the table and back at Uncle Jimmy. Carmen beams back at you even though you’re not looking. Richie is.
“An’ she’s cryin’,” Uncle Jimmy continues, “An’ she’s all nervous, she can’t do it, whatever. Then our little Carmy Bear over there—” he shoots him a look with a smug and pointing finger, and Carmen flushes, grinning at his plate to hide from you— “Now he’s her knight in shinin’ armor.”
Everyone smiles at that—you, Richie, Sug, Ma, and Carmen, and everyone else—because that’s the truth. At least it was, for a while. You and Carmen keep your smiles downcast, hidden from the other, and Richie and Sugar make eyes at one another, looking between the two of you.
“He gets ‘er outta her hidin’ spot behind the couch where she was cryin’ an’ he brings ‘er a wooden spoon for a microphone, and he whispers somethin’ to ‘er—to this day I dunno what, coulda been anythin’ for all I care—and all of a sudden she wants to sing again. She sings Rudolph, Jingle Bells, Frosty the Snowman, all the stuff the kids knew, an’ she does it all with this wooden spoon, with our little Bear holdin’ ‘er hand the whole time.”
“An’ he didn’t even do anythin’!” Richie points out. “Just stood there, swingin’ ‘er arm like a jagoff—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Uncle Jimmy waves off, “But he did it for ‘er. And so,” he says, a finality in his tone, looking back at Stevie across the table, “Birdie is born. Our little Christmas song bird protected by the Big Bear. An’ the rest is history.”
Stevie smiles and nods his head. “That was sweet. Really, really sweet.”
“Oh,” Ma laments, “I just love that story. They were such babies then, so cute. It was always Birdie ‘n Carmy doin’ this, Carmy ‘n Birdie doin’ that. Always on their little adventures together. He took her everywhere.”
Carmen smiles to himself, head down as he eats his food. He doesn’t think of his childhood often, more so the teenage years if anything, when he was failing school. Hearing back such a memory brings up a sense of nostalgia—not necessarily for being a kid again, or doing those stupid things, but for how easy it was.
Ma is right: it was you and him together for the ride, up until it wasn’t. He never cared as much after reaching high school. You were in different buildings, and he saw you around but didn’t spend as much time with you anymore. He outgrew you, it seemed. Even in his early twenties when that fire rekindled, he devoted himself to his work. You were still close, closer than you were with anyone else in the family, and nothing would ever change that. But life ran its course.
And it ran pretty damn fast.
#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto fic#carmy berzatto fic#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto angst#carmy berzatto angst#carmy x reader#carmy the bear#the bear#the bear x reader#the bear fx#the bear season 2#carmen berzatto x y/n
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can't help myself falling endlessly
synopsis: an innocent movie night takes a turn word count: 3k status: 1/? (trying to update 2 times a week) genre: non idol au, fem reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers content warning: drinking, making out, heated making out
“Why do you have to work tonight? You know I’ve been dying to watch this movie,” you pout at Sohee as he gets ready for work.
“It’s not my fault they called me in. The overnight closer called in sick, and I opted to be on call. Besides, they’re paying me time and half for last-minute shifts. I can’t say no to that,” he shrugs, grabbing his keys and heading out. There you stood left with the project you decided to start.
With Sohee gone, you decide to text Anton. He’s always been your go-to for spontaneous plans. You can almost guarantee that he will come over on such short notice.
Texting:
y/n: heyyyy question for youu
anton: hey! answer for youu
y/n: sohee has to work tonight :( wanna come over and watch that new scary movie with me? (u can’t say no)
anton: Scary movie? You know I’m terrible with horror, haha, but I guess I can be brave
y/n: YAYYA okay, come over as soon as you can then
anton: I’ll be there in 10
Anton has been friends with Sohee for almost his entire life. He’s always been soft spoken, quiet, and well-mannered. All completely different from your brother. It’s always been a surprise to you how they became such close friends. Over the years, Anton has also become one of your best friends, which is why you feel so comfortable inviting him over without Sohee there as the connecting friend.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. Despite coming over practically daily for the past decade, Anton still rings the doorbell and waits patiently outside. You peek through the window and see him standing there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Opening the door, you greet each other with a smile.
“I tell you this every time, Anton. You can just walk in or use the spare key we have hidden just for you,” you tease lightly.
“I know; but it just doesn’t feel right. Even if this is my second home,” he laughs quietly as he takes off his shoes.
“Well, I’ve created the perfect setup for us. I might have gone a bit overboard this time,” you say with a grin. Leading him downstairs where movie nights are typically held, Anton can see what you meant by ‘a bit overboard’. Y/N had made a pillow fort with the couch and a few of the kitchen chairs. Inside it was filled with an assortment of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals. In a small basket there was a variety of snacks and what looked like a bottle of soju.
“Did you do all of this in the ten minute span it took me to get here?” Anton asks in surprise.
“Noo. But that would be really impressive. I started it before I texted you and just finished a few things when you agreed to come over because I knew you wouldn’t say no,” you tease.
“What if I did say no?” Anton laughs, hanging his jacket on the couch and crouching to inspect the fort further.
“Ah, I knew you would say yes because you love hanging out with me. Admit it,” you tease further.
“Alright, I admit it, but don’t tell Sohee. He’ll never let me hear the end of it, that cry baby,” you both laugh at that statement.
You pat Anton on the shoulder, encouraging him to make himself comfortable in the fort. The pat on his shoulder as you run upstairs to change catches Anton’s attention, lingering in his mind as he reflects on how special you made this hangout. It’s unlike him to feel this way around you, and he’s caught off guard by his own thoughts, having harbored feelings for you over the past few years. He’s always pushed them aside due to your close friendship and his bond with Sohee.
In your room, you pause, catching yourself in the mirror. Thoughts of Anton flood your mind–his smile, how he admired your efforts. His warm tone stirred up the feelings you’ve kept hidden for him. You stand there contemplating what to wear, because no matter what time of year it is, the basement always tends to be colder. You opt for shorts because at least if you get cold, you can snuggle under one of the many blankets. Before heading down to the basement, you stop at the kitchen grabbing two shot glasses for the soju that sits down there. Coming down to the fort you announce to Anton that you brought shot glasses. You hand them to him as you kneel down to crawl to the open space next to him. You notice his eyes briefly wandering to your legs, causing a strange flutter in your stomach. Anton can’t help but realize how good your legs look in those gray shorts. And how you somehow looked even better with the two-sizes-too-big sweatshirt you paired them with. Almost mesmerized by the view, his breath hitches in the back of his throat as you brush past his body. Anton clears his throat awkwardly when you ask if he’s alright, nodding quickly with a sheepish smile. You continue your path and settle down next to him. But Anton’s mind keeps thinking back to how soft your legs look and how badly he wanted to feel them.
“Helloo, Earth to Anton?” you joke, waving your hand playfully in front of him. Snapping out of the haze he didn’t realize he had slipped into, Anton looks over to you with an embarrassed smile. “Did you even hear the question I asked you, or were you too busy staring at my legs, you weirdo?” you joke, hitting his arm.
“N-no, sorry,” Anton stammers slightly, feeling a bit flustered. “I was just lost in my thoughts for a second, didn’t even realize.”
“I was just wondering if you wanted to join me for a shot or two before we start this movie,” you ask once again.
“Oh yeah, yeah, I would love one,” Anton agrees eagerly. You pour each other a shot and clink the glasses together before downing the drink. Anton signals for another shot, and you oblige, repeating the same gestures as before. The second shot goes down a lot smoother than the first, leaving a pleasant warmth that lingers a little longer.
“I think we should take a shot after the first major jump scare,” you suggest with a giggle, already feeling the effects of the alcohol.
“I agree, but only because it will make me less afraid of the movie.” You press play on the movie and grab the bowl of popcorn, making yourself comfortable. Placing the bowl between you and Anton, you absentmindedly reach for popcorn as you watch the film. Occasionally, your hand brushes against his, and you offer a silent apology.
During an intense scene, you notice Anton fidgeting beside you. You know he isn’t the best with horror, so you place your hand on his thigh to hopefully offer some comfort after the ineffectiveness of the shots. Without turning to look at him, you feel his eyes widen at the unexpected touch. The alcohol seems to heighten his senses, making the contact more pronounced. For a moment, his attention shifts away from the movie, his thoughts consumed by the sensation of your hand on his thigh.
Shaking his head to refocus, Anton comes back to reality. Just as he regains his composure, a sudden jump scare on the screen startles him, causing him to jolt in his spot.
“God, I didn't think that was gonna happen. It caught me completely off guard,” Anton says with a sigh, “Guess we better pour that third shot,” hopefully covering up the fact that he was not paying full attention.
“What do you mean you didn’t see that coming? It was so obvious it was going to happen,” you tease, exaggerating your surprise.
“Not to me I guess,” Anton chuckled nervously, still trying to cover up for his lapse in attention.
“Uh-huh, are you sure” you ask, giving Anton a side eye.
“I am positive. Cheers,” Anton replies with a wry smile. You clink your glasses together and settle back in to continue the movie. A few moments pass, and you start to feel a bit chilly and uncomfortable in your current position. You pull the soft blue blanket, your favorite, over the both of you and snuggle closer to Anton. Your head rests on his shoulder, and one of your legs is bent slightly over his. It feels natural and comfortable, and that’s all that matters to you.
Anton immediately notices the warmth of your thigh against his. As a lightweight, he can’t tell if the alcohol is making him dizzy or just the proximity. ‘Where do I put my hands now?’ he wonders, overthinking despite knowing where they would eventually rest. For the next ten seconds, his mind is a blur as he tries to ignore the gentle movement of your leg.
Deciding to play it cool, he casually places one hand on your leg and other around your shoulder. A quick glance to the right shows you are undisturbed, completely engrossed in the film.
Anton’s heart was pounding, the kind of intense thumping that resonated through his entire body. With your leg on his, he couldn’t help but wonder if you could feel it too. His fingers, slightly trembling, rested against your legs, the throbbing more pronounced where they touched your thighs.
In your mind, you began to see the subtle game you had initiated with Anton. You noticed he seemed a bit tense once again. You brought your arm over and let it rest across your body, landing gently on his upper leg. The touch, to his surprise, seemed to ground Anton. Feeling him relax into the feeling.
Time passes and the movie carries on. You can tell Anton had become lost in the movie as he began to mindlessly move his hand up and down your thigh, the motion calm and unbothered. You shift into his touch, bringing your legs closer to your chest to give him better access to explore as he wished. The gentle caress of Anton’s soft hands sent a burning sensation through your stomach; the touch was euphoric.
His hand slid up, just grazing the hem of your shorts, and you found yourself aching for him to touch you more. You longed to feel his hands trace your body, to explore every curve and contour. Lost in your thoughts and the intensity of the subtle moment, you let out a small, involuntary moan. A testament to the desire that was building inside you.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Anton asks, looking down at you with concern.
“Yeah, I-I just got to thinking for a second there,” you reply nervously.
“Oh, what were you thinking about?” he inquires, his curiosity piqued.
“Uh, that we should take another shot. It’s been at least a half hour since we took the last one. I could use another one, what about you?” you respond quickly, almost in one breath.
“Sure, I could do another shot; I’m feeling a little wild,” he chuckles, sitting up to pour another round for both of you. You take the glass from him and down the shot immediately, barely pausing to clink glasses. Anton shakes his head, laughing before taking his own.
Before he even sets his glass down, you move in front of him, positioning yourself on your knees with your hands resting on his legs.
“What are you–” Anton was cut off mid-sentence as you closed the gap between your bodies. He could barely process what was happening. Feeling your soft lips on his, he closed his eyes, tasting the sweetness of the peach soju you had been drinking. Just as quickly as you kissed him, you pulled back.
Anton blinked his eyes wide open, still in shock and struggling to fully process what had just happened. A million thoughts raced through his mind, but the overwhelming urge to tell you how sweet your lips tasted and how soft they felt was at the forefront.
You watched as Anton’s natural blush from the shots deepened after the kiss. A moment passed in silence, and Anton still didn’t say anything. You began to worry that maybe you had misinterpreted the signals, and your heart raced with uncertainty.
Anton pulls you back in for another kiss, interrupting your thoughts. This time, he relaxes into you, drawing you closer by grabbing your sweater. You adjust your position onto his lap and place your hand on the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue swipes across your lip, a bold move you never expected from him, but you respond immediately. He probes his tongue into your mouth, making the kisses more desperate and sloppy.
His hands rest on your waist under the sweatshirt you’re wearing, and he starts to slide them up, creating goosebumps all over. He breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath and taking in the sight of you. Seeing your face flush from the heat and intensity. When he leans in again, he aims for the crook of your neck, kissing the skin repeatedly, each kiss wetter than the last.
As he takes in the skin on your neck and gently sucks on it, a small gasp escapes your lips. Tilting your head back, you allow his lips to roam freely over the exposed skin. Feeling the constriction of your sweatshirt, he tugs at the hem, silently prompting you to remove it. Without hesitation, you swiftly discard the article of clothing.
Beneath the hoodie, there is nothing, revealing a breathtaking view of your plump breasts to Anton. His eyes widened at the sight, momentarily captivated by the unexpected reveal. Quickly refocusing, he darts to the newly exposed skin, using his teeth to graze the skin gently, eliciting a soft moan from you this time.
“I love how you sound,” he murmurs, his hands moving up to caress your breasts gently. The words, coupled with his actions, draw out another soft moan. Any shyness he had felt earlier dissipates as he shamelessly flirts with you now.
His hands move with deliberate precision, drawing involuntary arches from your body as you press closer to him. You begin to grind in his lap, silently urging for more of his touch. With a bold move, you bring your hand down to his zipper, feeling the growing bulge in his jeans.
“You feel so hard,” you whisper, adding a bit more pressure to your touch. A low groan leaves Anton’s lips in response, sending a shiver of anticipation through you. That sound makes your core tense; you crave hearing it again and again.
Anton has always been quiet, but you have a feeling he would become so vocal for you if you continued down this path. Just as you start to pull his t-shirt over his head, the front door slams shut, startling you both.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” you both whisper to each other. Sohee’s unexpected appearance shattered the intimate moment that enveloped you and Anton. Both of you scramble to compose yourselves, hastily getting dressed and tying your hair into a bun,trying to cover up any evidence. Returning to your original seats, now slightly more distant from each other, you steal a glance at Anton and notice his bulge is still visible through his sweats.
“Hey, you might want to cover up,” you whisper urgently. Anton grabs the blanket and hastily conceals himself, pulling his legs up to his chest. Just then, Sohee sticks his head into the fort.
“Hey, guys, how’s the movie?” he asks cheerfully, squeezing in between you and Anton, oblivious to the charged atmosphere.
“It was pretty good,” you managed to say, exchanging a quick, almost guilty glance with Anton, who nodded in agreement. Anton, still visibly flustered, shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the blanket over his lap discreetly hoping Sohee wouldn’t notice the lingering flush on his cheeks or the tension that hung in the air. You stole a glance at him, sensing his attempt to appear nonchalant despite the lingering desire and uncertainty.
“Yeah, it was intense,” Anton added quietly, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. Sohee, unaware of the mood, began playing the next movie. Wanting to join you both in your hangout session.
“Why are you back so early?” you ask him, silently hating him for interrupting your moment with Anton.
“They ended up not needing me for the whole night, but they are going to pay me for the whole shift.” he replies, grabbing a handful of popcorn. You and Anton exchange nervous smiles, each other struggling to maintain composure while internally grappling the change in dynamics.
Finally, as the movie drew to a close, Sohee stretched out, breaking the tension. “Well, that was something,” he said with a wide yawn. You both watch Sohee gather his belongings and head up the stairs. Standing still, you both wait to hear Sohee’s door shut, and when it does you and Anton begin taking care of the fort. Despite everything that just unfolded, it didn’t feel awkward being alone with him. It felt almost natural.
Once everything was taken care of, Anton stood up, brushing his pants nervously. “Well, thank you for inviting me over. Even if I have no idea what movie we just watched, or what happened in it,” he says with a slight chuckle to reassure you that he enjoyed what happened. Secretly hoping it would occur again, or even progress further.
You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of closeness and tension lingering between you. “Yeah, definitely more eventful than expected,” you admitted, your voice tinged with nerves and lingering desire. Anton nodded once more, offering you a small wave before heading upstairs to leave. You watched him leave, but something told you to catch him before he left. You sprint up the stairs and see him at the front door. You walk towards him to say something, but you are quickly interrupted with a swift kiss. He pulls away, you smile at each other and part ways for the evening.
#riize#riize x reader#lee anton x reader#anton scenarios#riize imagines#riize anton#riize smut#riize smau#riize sungchan#riize sohee#riize fluff#riize anton fluff#riize anton x reader#riize scenarios#riize lee changyoung#anton lee#anton fluff#lee anton#lee chanyoung
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Thailand 🇹🇭 A Guide to Some of the Best Queer Asian Shows
Full list here.
1. KinnPorsche mafia boss/bodyguard; action; kidnapper/kidnapee side couple
Kinn, a son of a prominent mafia head, is ambushed by an enemy, and meets Porsche, a bartender who comes to his rescue for a price, thus beginning their reluctant relationship as boss and bodyguard, which soon turns into something more.
iQIYI
2. Bed Friend friends with benefits; office setting; trauma
King and Uea work in the same office. After a company outing ends in a drunken hook-up between them, Uea and King agree to keep seeing each other on a strictly physical basis. With no strings attached, will these two be able to keep things between them simple and carefree or will their emotions eventually get the better of them?
Uncut 18+ on iQIYI or GagaOOLala or cut on YouTube
3. The Sign reincarnated lovers; fantasy; thai mythology; police
The story of the love between Phaya and Tharn who used to be mythological creatures Naga and Garuda in their past lives, and were forced apart. But fate intervened, and two men were reincarnated in new bodies. Now, they work together as partners in the Special Investigations Unit to uncover violent crimes and supernatural mysteries while their love is tested by mystical forces and past enemies.
YouTube
4. I Feel You Linger In The Air period drama; time travel; bittersweet
Jom, an architect overseeing the renovation of a rundown villa, continuously dreams of a man he's never met. When a twist of fate transports Jom to Chiang Mai in the 1920s, he assumes the role of a servant to the affluent young master Yai, the mysterious man from his dreams.
GagaOOLala or YouTube
5. You're My Sky sports; university setting; coming of age
Thorn, a young basketball player follows his senior Fah to university as a result of the promise they’d made — to become national basketball champions. However, to his dismay, he finds that Fah has already given up on basketball. --- Aai has to work in pairs throughout the semester with San, 1 year footballer; in order to receive a scholarship to study in Japan, Ai must be willing to do everything to get an A grade. --- Track running requires the compatibility of the team members to be very high. Vee, who became the new racquet 4, has to speed up training to fit in with the team as quickly as possible, especially with Dome, spending extra time together to train. Is love actually a major obstacle on the path of being an athlete?
Viki
6. Cutie Pie (+Cutie Pie 2 You, Naughty Babe) arranged marriage; secret identity; crack
The sons of two companies, Lian and Kuea, have been engaged to each other since childhood. One decides he doesn't want the arranged marriage anymore while the other decides to win him back.
Cutie Pie: YouTube & Cutie Pie 2 You: Uncut 18+ on iQIYI or cut on YouTube & NB: uncut on IQIYI or cut on YouTube
7. Until We Meet Again reincarnated lovers; forbidden love;university setting
Two boys who couldn't be together in one life find each other again in another.
+ Between Us university setting; swimming club; trauma
A parallel story to Until We Meet Again. Win and Team get to know one another through the swimming club, and eventually develop a relationship. They grow their connection as Win helps Team deal with his childhood trauma.
UWMA: YouTube & Between Us: Special: YouTube & Between Us: Uncut 18+ on iQIYI or paid YouTube or cut on YouTube
8. Step By Step office setting; boss/employee; slowburn
Jeng is a marketing manager and son of the owner of the company. Pat is a new team member. Jeng develops a secret fondness for his new subordinate, but in this position, he has to be strict and picky with Pat.
Uncut 18+ on Viki or GagaOOLala or cut on YouTube
9. GAP The Series wlw; office setting; boss/employee; class difference
Long after Sam first came to Mon's rescue when they were kids, Sam is unambiguously Mon's idol. In order to be near Sam, Mon gets a job working under her. When they finally meet again at the office, Mon is surprised by Sam’s icy exterior, so different from the image she'd had of her. Mon and Sam aren't just different in demeanour; they stand apart in class and age.
YouTube
10. Lucky My Love wlw; office setting
In the pursuit of love, Nabdao has been doing everything. She has got her fortune read. She's gone on a string of blind dates. Unfortunately, no one seems to be on the same page as her. She starts to think that perhaps her gorgeous and caring boss Pheem could be the one for her. Then Vela, her new team leader, comes into the picture and shakes things up with her observant and affectionate care.
YouTube
11. La Pluie soulmate alternative universe
In an alternate universe where Thailand is perpetually rainy and soulmates exist, La Pluie traces the story of Saengtai, who suffers from sensorineural hearing loss every time it rains. The only voice he can hear then is that of his soulmate, but he is adamant about not giving said soulmate a chance due to having seen his parents’ (who are also soulmates) relationship deteriorate.
YouTube or iQIYI
12. I Told Sunset About You (+ Last Twilight in Phuket, I Promised You the Moon) coming of age; childhood friends to lovers; high school setting
Two childhood best friends-turned-rivals meet again, awakening an old rivalry and old feelings. They now have to navigate their lives together and the growing attraction toward each other.
Viki (ITSAY) & YouTube (LTIP) & Viki (IPYTM)
13. Ghost Host, Ghost House crush at first sight; ghosts; grief
Kevin's passion is the challenge of hunting ghosts. He returns to Thailand after 10 years to stay with his aunt's family, but he didn't know that he'd come to stay under the same roof as those hunted ghosts. There he meets Pluem, a young gardener working for his family and a spark ignites between them.
YouTube or GagaOOLala
14. Something In My Room ghost/human; mystery; bittersweet
Looking to start a new life in a new house with his mother, Phat feels something uncanny in his room, which turns out to be the ghost of Phob. Phob wants Phat’s help in solving the mystery of his death before it’s too late.
I recommend watching the extended uncut version on KissKH or Dramacool, but you can also watch cut version on YouTube
15. Manner of Death crime; mystery; dark
A forensic pathologist Bunn is threatened to identify a manner of one victim's death as suicide — something that is not true according to the autopsy performed. The prime suspect seems to be a man named Tan who denies all involvement. They team up together to find the real murderer.
WeTV
16. Triage time loop; hospital setting; crime; mystery
As a resident in the emergency room, one should be indifferent when not saving a patient's life. But Tin got the chance to reverse a random patient's death for the second, third, and countless times. To help Tol and save his life.
AIS PLAY
17. Love Mechanics cheating; university setting
A love story that starts one night in a club — between Mark, who is drunk and carrying the painful burden of his one-sided love, and the boy who he bumps into and mistakes as the object of his affection. They spend a night together and gradually Mark falls for Vee, although he knows Vee has a girlfriend. Will the love between them make it?
WeTV
18. Wedding Plan wedding planner/groom; lavender marriage; wlw side couple
Nuea is a professional wedding planner. Sailom happens to be the perfect man for Nuea based on his visual considerations for a man. But the universe has an unimaginable sense of humor as Sailom and his fiance Yiwa turn out to be Nuea's new clients.
Uncut 18+ on iQIYI or cut on Youtube & iQIYI (special episode)
19. Laws of Attraction lawyers; crime
When working-class man Tinn's niece fails to receive justice for her untimely death, he encounters Charn, a cynical morally corrupt lawyer. As Tinn and Charn team up to delve deeper into the case, they form a close bond despite their ideological differences. The series explores Charn and Tinn’s fight for justice, even though they were on opposite sides of the fence at the beginning.
YouTube
20. Secret Crush On You “nerd”/popular guy; queer friend group; university setting
Discover the secret of a nerdy young man, Toh, who fell in love with a popular third-year senior. Because his dream is so far from reach, observing is the only thing he could do. But what happens when one auspicious day the world devises an opportunity for Toh to make himself known to his crush Nuea?
YouTube
21. To Sir, With Love period drama; family drama; rich man/lower class man
A powerful family suffering from internal power struggles is now facing an even greater secret threat, the oldest son and heir is gay.
YouTube
22. My Only 12% best friends to lovers; slow burn
Cake and Seeiw, next-door neighbors and childhood best friends, navigate their feelings towards each other as they grow up.
YouTube
23. Show Me Love wlw; beauty pageants
Meena moves to Bangkok to achieve her singing dreams. She chances across Cherine who asks Meena to join her in a beauty pageant. The girls' journey for the crown begins and a romance between them sparks.
YouTube
24. Pit Babe omegaverse; alpha/alpha; car racing
Babe is the number one race car driver and an alpha with special abilities who only has sex with other alphas. Nerdy naive alpha Charlie approaches Babe to ask for his help to become a racer himself. Babe agrees to help Charlie realise his dream, but it will come with a price.
Uncut on iQIYI or cut on YouTube
---
You can watch many shows for free on YouTube, and watch others on the streaming websites by setting VPN to Thailand. In other cases I recommend paying for subscriptions to show appreciation and support of content in order to get more of it in the future, but if you can’t, watch on KissKH (better quality), Dramacool or get files from MkvDrama. Enjoy! 🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️
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