#yes ddy

[gaybuckybarnesss]

"You see these?"

[hellsbedroom]

call out my name

pairing: winter soldier!bucky x f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: as an assassin for hire, you often worked alongside the Winter Soldier. immediately after the events of CA:TWS, that soldier shows up at your doorstep needing help. and he thanks you in a very particular way

warnings: 18+, nsfw, brief mentions of violence, mild alcohol consumption, heavy petting, hair pulling (m receiving), p in v, porn with actually a lot of plot, angsty ending because i couldn't help myself, google-translated romanian

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The frantic knocking at your front door shouldn’t be happening. Even though Hydra’s secrets had been blown open a couple days ago, your name wasn’t mentioned anywhere. Mercenaries’ names never are. So how could anyone find you?

You slow your breathing to counter the adrenaline as the knocking rattles the hinges again. Clutching your gun tighter, you throw the door open and aim into the night.

The barrel lands against a man’s chest and takes you both by surprise. You pull the gun away when a familiar pair of blue eyes blinks back at you from underneath a ballcap. His face isn’t one you ever expected to see again, especially after the carnage in DC.

“Soldier?” You’d never known him by any real name.

“Can I come in?”

“Am I gonna get killed for it?”

He glances behind him and tugs his backpack tighter. “Not if I’ve done my job.”

That’s enough of an answer. You wave him in with the gun still cocked in case it’s a trap. But after you lock the door, you turn to find him staring at you and all at once the gun is no longer necessary.

His eyes are different. You’d seen them empty, you’d seen them focused, you’d seen them angry, you’d even seen them lust-blown as he thrusted into you in some alleyway after a mission. But you’d never seen them scared.

And he is terrified.

“I need your help. I have to get away.” Vigilance strings his shoulders taut and you wonder how many sleepless nights had led up to this.

“Okay, my cover’s not blown and I’ve still got my contacts. Is the west coast far enough? Canada?”

“No. Farther.”

“London’s pretty big.”

He grips your forearms in a flash, gruffly pleading an inch from your face. “Somewhere they can’t find me.”

The intensity freezes you for a few moments before you nod. Wordlessly you cross the room and rummage through papers strewn across your desk. Identities, informants, any connections you still have. Anybody they can’t get to.

“Does Romania work?” You proudly hold up some papers with illegible scrawls. “I can get you out at dawn.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

His sigh of relief leaves you comfortable enough to grab a couple beers from the fridge. Might as well drink when it’s clear that he’ll stay the night. But when you try to hand him one, he’s staring off into space and doesn’t seem to notice. You aren’t the best at comforting people, especially not Hydra’s former war dog, but you clasp a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He snaps back into the moment, nodding in thanks as he takes the beer and opens it with a simple flick of a metal finger. He rubs the other hand down his face, dragging away the last of whatever thoughts had distracted him.

“Yeah.” He still stands resolute in the center of the room, even as you sling yourself into a chair. “Sorry for grabbing you. I just—”

“It’s alright, Soldier. I’ve been roughhoused before.”

“It’s actually Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name is Bucky. I didn’t know that for a long time. Hydra’s doing.” He sinks onto your couch, still weighed down by the revelation.

You immediately sit up straighter, the gears in your head trying to make sense of it. The whole story comes out with just a bit of prodding. World War Two, his capture, his fall, Hydra’s brainwashing, all of it. You sit in stunned silence through it, nodding in support every now and then. He finishes after the second round of beers and checks the magazine of his gun from force of habit. You do the same, then venture with a question itching to be answered.

“Do you remember anything you did?”

“Some of it. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t...I didn’t want to stop it.” A guilty silence follows and you hear the distinctive whirring of his metal arm as he clenches his fist.

You laugh to lighten the mood. “Hey, that’s better than me. I chose to do this shit and got paid for it.”

Bucky nods solemnly, staring down his empty bottle. Then he flicks his gaze back up to you. “I also remember you.”

“On a mission? Marrakesh was pretty memorable.”

“Yeah. But I remember us doing some other stuff, too.” A smile ghosts his lips for the first time that night.

Memories of him sucking angry marks into your neck as you writhe on his cock come flooding back, making you cross your legs. You clear your throat and try to seem nonchalant.

“I hope that’s not something the brainwashing made you do,” you joke.

Bucky’s eyes are sharp as knives as they cut across the room. “It wasn’t. And I didn’t want to stop that either.”

“Oh. Good.”

The next silence thunders with anticipation but you don’t push your luck. Instead you focus on clearing away stray dishes and papers, flitting back and forth and trying to remember how to play hostess. You cross in front of Bucky and easily lift the bottle out of his hand. But before you can step out of reach again, he takes your arm.

This time his grip is gentle, nothing like the way he’d ever touched you before. You swallow thickly and dare to meet his gaze.

“Yes, Soldier?”

The gentleness is abandoned as his mouth crashes into yours. You knock off his ballcap in a rush to card your hands through his hair, desperate to have him closer. It’s all practiced and familiar, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and his teeth nipping at your lower lip.

His scruff burns against your jaw and then he’s kissing in its wake, lips and teeth devouring down your neck as his hands dive under your clothes to brush at your waist and hips. The skin-to-skin contact lights you on fire and you help him lift off your shirt in a flurry that’s followed by his own jacket and shirt. The fleeting moment spent apart is enough for you to catch your breath and shiver at the desire swirling in his eyes.

You collide into his chest again, wasting no time in dragging him backward with you toward somewhere, anywhere sturdy enough for support. It’s like you’re back in Mumbai or São Paulo or Kosovo, desperate to find a pleasurable release at the closest available location where he could grind his hips into you. This time it happens to be your kitchen island, a throne of granite onto which Bucky lifts you and your legs easily split, letting him settle between them and pull you so that his bulge presses just so against your core.

You're grabbing his shoulders — clutching flesh and metal — and that familiar coolness of his titanium arm curving around your back brings heat pooling between your legs. He captures your lips in an eager, fluid motion, tongue darting out to graze yours. Expert at killing, expert at kissing. The tendrils of his long hair tickle your forehead just like you remember.

With the usual haste and fervor, you grind against his solid hips in search of friction and he obliges by slipping his hand down to rub through your pants.

Soldier...you nearly moan, but stop short. You don’t have to settle for this kind of quickie. He isn’t just Soldier anymore, and you aren’t under the pressure of a mission.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his lips, grounding him to something besides what you both once were. “Bucky, wait…”

He slows down, his grip moving to your thighs, two heavy palms weighing down on you. Then he looks up slowly — his gaze could crack you in half. There’s a vulnerable tenderness in his eyes, clouded over by the bewilderment of what being Bucky once was.

“Bedroom,” you order gently.

“What?”

“Let’s do this in the bedroom.”

He has a lot of unlearning to do after so many years of Hydra control, so maybe you can help him with this one thing. You aren’t sure why you want this extra layer of intimacy, but it feels right.

Your insistence makes him wary. His eyes dart around, calculating whether or not this, too, is an attempt to capture him. Anyone could be in on it.

“It’s not a trap, I promise,” you coax, holding your hands up. “It’ll be better like this. I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t move as you slide off the island, brushing against him and letting the moment linger. You leave your eyes locked on his as you turn and take a few inviting steps down the hall, not abandoning the gaze until his doubts subside and he follows you.

The sparse bedroom is suddenly alive with electricity as you kiss him again to pick up right where you left off. Your grip dives into his hair, pulling in the way you remember makes even the stoic soldier moan. The liplock is blinding and his hands mold to your waist and hips and everywhere, keeping you close as the last of the clothes are haphazardly tossed away. Once you’re bare it’s a short stumble onto the bed and he falls on top of you with his metal arm braced in the unmade sheets.

Somehow Bucky looming over you, sinking down with every delectable muscle, is more breathtaking than the Winter Soldier fucking you senseless against a brick wall that digs into your back.

You don’t get a chance to catch that breath before his hand snakes down to toy with your clit, expertly coating it with your slick with a particular brush of his finger that he knows works so well. The gasp wracks your chest — you’d been ready for this since he admitted remembering every salacious encounter — and you almost give in then and there.

But where’s the fun in that?

Your thighs are locked around his hips and you swiftly flip on top, sitting up to settle on his lap. You’re naked, with no chance of hiding weapons, so he quickly relaxes and focuses on how new this is. Studying your form, from draped legs to raised brow. His hand lifts and you catch it in sync, bringing it up to your breast where he rolls your nipple instantly, carefully watching the arch of your back in response. Bucky is nothing if not a quick learner.

He’s hard, aching underneath you, and the tug in your core calls for the same thing. He helps lift your hips and you brace on his chest and then you’re slowly sinking down on his length to draw out the sensation.

It’s a pretty thing to watch his lips curl as he hisses out your name — your real name, not just one of your aliases — and your own sigh flies out when you reach the hilt. You take a few moments to adjust and then start rocking to an inaudible beat. Or maybe that’s your heart thrumming with pride.

It’s different this time. Everything is still eager and strong and deliciously satisfying but this isn’t just a convenient tryst. That has its time and place, like a muggy Havana afternoon after a vicious shootout. This time there’s something in the way Bucky rubs along your thighs while you lean in close, the rhythm of the thrusts keeping you just out of reach of his lips and yet leaving you anchored to those blue eyes.

He cradles the nape of your neck, watching your face morph in pleasure while the tension builds. You can’t help kissing him then and there and everything winds tighter and tighter until the climax takes you, your open mouth grazing against his as bliss washes all over. His name is a whispered prayer from your lips.

Your stuttering hips drag him into the throes a moment later and his gasp rushes past your cheek. A moan rumbles through his chest and you collapse on it, daring to smile as you breathe him in.

God that was good. The two of you still have it.

You unceremoniously roll off and into the sheets before another thought strikes. You’d never had to deal with Bucky in the moments after a good fuck. You always went your separate ways down dimly-lit alleys or out of a jungle. But here he is, stretched out beside you, with no prerogative to leave until morning.

Apparently the same thing was on his mind because he suddenly sits up and tugs a weary hand through his hair. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No.” You catch his wrist before you know what’s happening. “It’s alright, stay. You need a good night’s sleep. Getting to Romania is gonna be a hell of a ride.”

His eyes sweep over you but there’s no wariness this time. Instead he blinks slowly, giving a half-smile as he settles back down and pulls the covers up. It’s quiet for a few moments, comfortably so, and his arm brushes yours without pulling away.

“You should come with me,” he finally says, voice raspy with sleep and sex. “You need to get out, too.”

It isn’t the first time that thought has crossed your mind but it suddenly feels much more serious. A real chance to escape. Your fingers trace the sheets and mattress below, a place to lay your head that you had never really called home. Of course you have a bag packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice, every good mercenary does — but are you ready to be on the run? To live your life at the whim of whoever finds you in every city?

Bucky has already dozed off beside you, his gentle breathing interrupted by furrowed brows and an occasional shake of his head. He has no choice but to run, though you doubt he’ll outrun the nightmares anytime soon.

Sleep does its job of lulling you, too, and you decide to make your choice in the morning.

***

Two Years Later Bucharest, Romania

The rusted faucet gives a weak stream of water but you still rinse off the dishes, watching stray peelings and seeds whirl down the drain. Big bowls of fruit are your staple breakfast now that you have the time to enjoy them.

The apartment is silent except for the gentle ceramic clinks, with Bucky having stepped out to the market next door to pick up more plums — the favorite household snack.

As ex-assassins, calling your arrangement “dating” feels childish. You and Bucky sleep in the same bed, fuck regularly, cook each other meals, watch each other’s backs, and take turns cleaning the arsenal of weapons. So whatever the term for that relationship is, that’s what you have. You need each other.

With the dishes clear and reading to catch up on, you step into the bathroom in the back of the apartment to grab a clip for your hair. Can’t have the locks in your way when novels await.

You hear the front door open and a smile tugs at your lips. “Ce mai faci?” you call. (How are you?)

The Romanian greeting is part of yours and Bucky’s precautions — a code for when one of you reenters the apartment, just in case. You expect to hear the coded answer: Voi fi mai bine mâine (I will be better tomorrow).

But there’s no reply. Only muted footsteps toward your kitchen.

Your heart slams into overdrive. There’s a handgun hidden under the bathroom sink and it’s cold in your grip as you level it at the door, cautiously stepping into the small hallway. No one is immediately visible but your senses don’t fail you. Someone’s there.

“Reieşi!” you spit. “Come out!”

Still no answer but a careful shuffling of feet just out of sight. You hunker at the wall for only a moment and then fling yourself around the corner, barrel first.

Standing by your refrigerator with arms warily raised is Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. You recognize him from both the news and Bucky’s attempts to piece his life together. He cocks his head in surprise — whatever intel had let him here, it hadn’t mentioned you.

But he keeps his voice steady as he breaks the silence. “Where’s Bucky?”

You don’t answer. It’s pointless to lie, since he somehow found the apartment, but you know better than to tell the truth. You can’t claim ignorance anyway — the unwavering handgun in your grasp says otherwise.

You stare back in silence and take a couple calculated steps forward while trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Despite the proximity Steve lowers his arms, correctly guessing that if you haven’t shot yet, you won’t do so without warning. Killing Captain America isn’t exactly the best way to keep people out of your life anyway.

“I just need Bucky. People are coming for him.”

That raises goosebumps along your arms. It makes sense, Steve only finding him when someone worse is on the way. You’re about to demand more answers when footsteps reach the outside of your apartment and pause, no doubt noticing the door slightly ajar.

“Ce mai faci?” It’s Bucky’s strained voice trying the code. Then he more urgently adds, “Esti in siguranta?” (Are you safe?)

“Da,” you call quietly, keeping your eyes trained on Steve. “I’m alright, Bucky. We have a visitor.”

Bucky carefully treads in, his eyes darting between you and Steve and the gun in your hand. The air stings with confusion. But eventually he crosses to you and closes his hand over the barrel to make you lower the gun, and not even your incredulous gaze changes his mind. He simply nods and runs his hand down your back. Trust me.

He pushes a newspaper into your lowered hands and you look down at the words plastered across the top: ‘Winter Soldier Bombs UN Headquarters’. The newspaper crinkles in your tightening grip. Underneath the headline sits a photo of Bucky’s face, clear as day, when it isn’t possible for him to have been there. You’d come out of hiding to vouch for it yourself.

But that wouldn’t matter, you know better. The little world that you and Bucky carved out is caving in fast.

“Do you know me?” It’s the intruder, his gaze no longer fixed on you or your weapon but on his long-lost friend.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

A pause. Steve clenches his jaw. “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

He pauses again as the comms unit crackles in his ear, probably warning of the distant commotion now rumbling up the building from many floors down. You sneak a glance at Bucky and the grim set of his mouth.

“I’ve got him here,” Steve says into his radio. “He’s with someone. Unclear whether she’s a hostile.”

He clips that last part at you, demanding your intentions as you still bristle at him. But you don’t get a chance to threaten him again before Bucky steps in front of you.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore. Neither does she.”

“Well the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive,” Steve adds, the gravity in his voice sinking deep into your chest.

“That’s smart, good strategy.”

Bucky’s right. Special forces are always taught to eliminate a threat, not wait for heroic negotiating. That doesn’t happen in the real world when real consequences are at stake. A rattling shakes the staircase outside your apartment door, the telltale sign of heavy men and heavy guns on their way. You quickly realize that whether or not Steve is on your side, he’s a better option than what’s waiting out there.

Steve softens. “It doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”

Bucky takes off the glove concealing his titanium hand, flexing the joints and heaving a sigh. He looks at you and tips another nod. Get ready. You grab another magazine of bullets for your gun.

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky murmurs.

“That’s why we ran, you know. To try and stay away from the fight.” You cock the gun, staring Steve down. Blaming him for this situation is wrong but damn it feels right. “But when it comes to our door we have no choice.”

Steve gets agitated, glancing between you and Bucky and trying to piece it all together. “Bucky, you pulled me from the river. Why?”

Bucky stays still. “I don’t know.”

The thundering footsteps get closer, louder and louder like in every nightmare you’d had about being found. You walk to the windows, looking for any trace of the enemies no doubt rappelling down the building at that instant. There are more weapons hidden on that side of the room anyway, and you gather what you can.

“I hate to break this up,” you quip at the men behind you, “but we can’t keep standing here playing high school reunion.”

“She’s right, Buck. We have to go.”

“She’s coming with us.”

You spare Bucky a grin over your shoulder. Of course you’re going with them, but it’s good to hear him say it.

Steve steps closer, faint warnings still being yelled into his comms unit. “They aren’t looking for her. She’ll be safer away from us for now.”

That makes your breath catch. Arguing with Steve will make the oncoming fight that much more difficult. You turn, a sneer already waiting on your lips, but Bucky once again interjects. He catches your shoulders and his gaze sinks deep into yours.

“Steve’s right.”

“What?”

“They’re after me for the stuff in Vienna. You need to get out.”

“Bucky, I’m not —”

Crash! Grenades come flying through the windows, shattering the tension with shards of glass. You knock one right back out and Bucky kicks the other to Steve, who covers the blast with his shield. Bucky is two seconds ahead of you and lifts the mattress to cover you both from a third grenade tossed in. The explosion is hot against your back and your muscles tremble. With his free hand Bucky throws the steel table at the door, blocking it and buying a few minutes before the tac team can bust through.

Rappelers burst through the windows and Steve kicks one down, his gunfire raining into the ceiling instead of your flesh. You return fire to another, clipping his knee and shoulder, while Bucky yanks the third and knocks him against the wall. Two more come swinging in — your adrenaline kicks up another notch — and a scream grates your throat as you land a few good punches on the closest one. You hadn’t fought for your life like this in a long time, but it’s a skill that comes back quick as lightning.

Bucky dashes over to Steve, forcing the other rappeler out of his grip and onto the balcony with a swift knee to the chest.

“Buck, stop!” Steve calls. “You’re gonna kill someone.”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” Bucky grunts. Floorboards splinter under the force of his punch and he pulls out his backpack before tossing it onto the roof of the adjacent building.

You take a respite from watching for more assailants and step over downed bodies to reach him. The other backpack lands heavily in your hands and despite the chaos, the rest of the world briefly fades when Bucky drags you closer.

“Go, you have to get out!”

All air vanishes. “No. I’m not leaving —”

“Please.” Bucky’s voice is small against the rushing of blood in your ears. His iron grip pulls you toward the windows and he hands you a rappelling rope. “I’ll find you later.”

You know there’s no choice. And arguing further will put everyone in danger. You attach the rope to yourself and the balcony, still pulling Bucky with you as you back onto the ledge. Shotgun blasts at the hinges of the door across the room draw Steve away and you know this is your last blessed moment alone.

Whatever version of Bucky Barnes this is — the man out of time, the assassin, the shell of a vintage hero — you don’t care. This version is yours, and you love him.

You kiss him, hard. He returns it with fire, his hand tangling in your unkempt hair. A sad smile creeps onto your lips when you pull away and Bucky nods solemnly. One gentle push later and you drop from view.

[tennant]

Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller THE LAST OF US (2023-) “Infected” (1.02)

[my-ohh-mai]

//your mai mun bri had a nice day today! munday piccys!! ♡

[rosicheeks]

Anyone else get super sad when they get a sugar daddy bullshit ask/DM?

Like YES I would fucking love to be a sugar baby and get paid for being a cutie patootie but noOoOOOOOooOoOoOoO life hates me and it’s all fake :((((

[taegularities]

DOWN SO BAD FOR C&F LITERALLY READING IT RN AND THE JEALOUSY (healthy) AND PREGNANCY TALKS ARE MAKING ME ARGHHHH

DAMN LOL WELCOME TO THE ROYAL SQUAD, I GUESS?? 👑 thank youuu for reading, gosh i hope you enjoy the thing till the very last word!! let me know how the story treated you once you're done 🥺 also… the jealousy n pregnancy talk atm.. what can i say 😁👍

[cosmicwavelength]

you realise it’s truly time to go to bed when you just stare at the blazed post of two gay d*ddys dancing.

[leviraaaaaa]

“Daaa-ddy.”

Levi startles, looking up. The little girl stood before him, all wide eyes and beaming at him.

“Yes? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She shrugs, then thrusts out a hair brush and a set of scrunchies. “Do my hair today!” She grins.

Levi is taken aback slightly, not at all expecting such a request. It’s not that he had a bad relationship with his daughter really, if anything Levi spends every second that he can spare with her. But even so, it was so sudden and specific, not to mention she has never asked him to do it before. It was you who helped her get ready.

“Doesn’t mommy usually do that?” He asks slowly. “Is she busy?”

She shakes her head quickly. “I just want you to do it today.” She smiles, holding the brush out to him, waiting for him to take it.

Levi glances at it then looks back up. How could he say no to that?

So, without a word, he motions her to turn around which she follows happily, pulling a stool nearby to sit between Levi’s legs. Levi takes the brush, though slightly hard to hold without his missing fingers, he manages, combing through the black silky strands.

Like his.

Though, his own hair was stranded with gray now, a sign of the long years he had lived. Even Ackermans don’t stay young forever.

But it’s still so strange to him, having her here, right in front of him. He still freezes a little when she smiles at him, watching her with awe. She looked almost exactly identical to him, starting from the shape of her face to the color of her eyes, just the exact shade of the silvery blue that his own eyes hold. But there was a brightness in those eyes that Levi doesn't think he ever had. She was like this little ball of sunshine, always so bright.

And her smile, that came from you.

She was his. Yours. Theirs.

A part of him and a part of you. A whole other human being. A child. A blessing.

It was the hardest at thr beginning. For him to get used to it. Despite the 9 months of pregnancy, it was when he first held her that the realization finally hit him. That she was his daughter. His.

And the moment his eyes locked with the newborn, he knew he was doomed.

That there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this small, small, absolutely tiny person that came to earth no more than half an hour ago. That he had just met.

It was crazy how it only took him only a moment for him to swear his life for her, to become so protective. It was actually ridiculous, how he felt anxious even when it was the nurses holding her, he’d been so rigid, so poised. Even when handing her over to someone else’s arms, he had his hand outstretched because just in case. It took a shit load of convincing from you for him to let Jean and Connie hold her.

It was crazier watching her grow up. Never had he felt this ridiculous amount of pure joy and excitement ever. Only to hear her first words, to watch her take her first steps, holding his hand. He swears it was only yesterday.

His chain of thought was cut off as she started to happily chatter about things. Unlike Levi, she talks. A lot. Levi doesn’t mind, he listens quietly. Every once in a while, inserting a comment.

“I’ve read about you. In the history books. Our teacher taught us.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles, brushing softly. “What’d you learn?”

“They called you humanity’s strongest.” She stumbles on the word a little, which was a bit heavy for her usual vocabulary. She turns around to look at him with awe and wonder, wide eyes asking for confirmation. “That’s so cool!”

He only lets out a small hum in response.

"Will I be as strong as you one day?"

"Sure. You already are." He hopes she never needs to be.

“I saw your picture too. And mommy’s. Also, Uncle Connie used to be bald back then.” She finishes with a giggle, the idea of Connie’s lack of hair amusing her. “You were like a superhero, weren’t you daddy?”

“I wouldn’t shoot that far.” He answers with a small smile.

Back then, Levi had never imagined the idea of having a family. There, caged between the walls, surrounded by those tremendous monsters. When there was no guarantee that you’d come back alive once you’re out there. How could he even think of bringing a child to the world, if he couldn’t even do the least that is to promise their safety?

But now, here she runs and plays outside, without a worry in the world, tirelessly. She doesn’t have to starve like Levi had to, she grows up with only all the good the world has to offer. She doesn’t know the worst of how things could be and Levi hopes she never does. She doesn’t yet understand the role Levi and you had played in creating this world, but she does understand the value of it. She asks questions sometimes, about the wheelchair and the eye and the hand. About your scars and why somedays you can't get yourself from bed. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how to answer. And Levi knows, one day, he’ll have to tell her all of it, life back then and the life he had. But for now, he prays, let her grow up with only love and pureness. Let her see the world in her rose colored glasses. Something he never got to do.

She taps Levi’s leg as he bunches the hair to tie a ponytail. “Do braids.” She says.

“Braids? Don’t you always wear a ponytail?” Levi asks.

“Yes, but,” She tries to explain, stumbling for words. “Tash always pulls by it.”

Tash was one of her classmates, Levi knew from her frustrated rants about him. From what he could gather, neither liked each other much. “Next time he bothers you, you do the thing that I taught you.” He tells her.

“The thing with my hands?” She asked brightly, balling her hands to show him.

“Hey, no beating up kids at school. Levi!” You appear in the doorway, only catching the last bit of the conversation. “Don’t give her ideas. And you,” You look at your daughter who was smiling smugly. “I’ve been looking for you–wait, is Levi doing your hair?” You say, finally noticing and very surprised.

‘Yes!” She replies excitedly, “He’s doing braids! He’s very slow though.”

Levi playfully pats her head. “It’s because you keep moving.” He sighs. “Must you need braids? I’m not sure if I can–”

“Yes.”

Levi was about to say something else until she turned around, giving him the most adorable pout ever, eyes all round and needy, her brows pinched together. “Please?” She asks sweetly.

Well damn.

Levi tries, he really tries. But the word no somehow managed to disappear from his vocabulary, along with all of its synonyms. So he sighs, nodding.

“Levi, I can–” You start.

“It’s okay.” He puts up a hand, stopping you. He doesn’t know much about the process, but he’s spent enough time watching you do her hair. So he thinks he can manage it. “I can do it. Probably.” He says uncertainty.

It was slightly difficult to manage multiple sections of hair when you’re missing two fingers, but even surprising himself, he does manage it, after a few attempts. A little uneven, but works.

"Happy?" He asks her, patting her head.

It was good enough for the girl, who jumped up right after it was finished and cheered happily as an answer to Levi. She jumps to his arms, pulling him by the neck to plant a big smooch in his cheek.

“You're the best.” She beams at him, then running off to grab her bag which was by the door.

“Wow, mommy’s nonexistent now?” You fold your arms in mock offense.

She doesn’t answer, only picks up her bag and runs to hug you full speed, wrapping herself around your knees. “I love you.” She calls out, then turns to Levi. “And I love you too! I'm leaving now!”

Then she was out the door before you could say I love you back.

“Don’t run, you’ll fall.” Levi calls out to her, who was already far out of hearing range.

You closed the door. Then leaned against it, staring at Levi.

Levi looked away, cheeks heating up slightly, noticing the strange way you were staring at him, already knowing what comes after.

“So.” You said.

“So, what?” He said, glancing at you.

“Where'd you learn how to do braids?"

He huffs. "From you. I watched you do it.''

"Really?' It was so cute you could melt.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He grunts. “She’s my girl. I can do her hair sometimes, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“So, I’m not your girl?” You pout, exactly the same expression your daughter made just moments ago. “How come I don't I get braids?”

“I–” Levi starts, then huffing frustratedly. He can’t even say no to his daughter, who was he to say no to the mother? He tries nevertheless.

“I’m not doing it. Stop looking at me like that.”

You did not look away, pouting out your lips more.

“I won’t.”

You blinked, turning your expression sadder.

Levi gives up.

“C’mere.” He sighs.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Soon Come…

“Smoke…oooh…yes…yes…right there, daddy…don’t stop…ooooo shiiiit, daddy…fuuck….get it, da–DDY…”

Part Two!!!!!

[taurder]

Saturdays

top!dom!reader x sub!peter b. parker (earth 616B)

contains: breeding kink, degradation, slut shaming, praise kink, begging, daddy kink, fingering (character receiving), mommy kink.

you loved saturdays, and so did peter. they were the day he didn't have to worry about mayday's whereabouts, since it was the usual day mj could take care of her and give peter the day off. so he had the entire day to hang with you more privately, and that always meant fucking in every surface available in your apartment.

today in particular peter had been really desperate to get you to fuck him, barely giving you time to undress when he was already asking for your fingers, being kind enough to fetch the lube himself so you wouldn't waste another second.

Your fingers inside his needy hole while his chest was pressed against the kitchen table were enough after some minutes to make him cum without warning. "k-keep going. please take me already, issfine" you were surprised that he was already slurring his words out, but you smiled at the neediness of your lover, groping his ass with both hands first just to make him whine and push back at you.

"someone's really horny today, huh?" you cleaned your fingers in his lower back, chuckling at his shivering for the anticipation, arching his back and extending his hand to one end of the table to hold himself. "if you really want it then ask for it. you think i'll fuck you just because your slutty ass is craving a cock inside?"

his dick twitch at the mean words and you smiled while getting more lube in your dick, watching him wiggle his ass and turning to see you while he beg. "please, daddy. i- i really want you inside" you got closer, taking with one hand his waist, the other guiding your cock at him. "yes! yes yes yes please– oh god, thank you so mghhh" you cut his words by getting completely inside in one thrust.

peter's wording became worst every time you hit his prostate, making him moan loud as he barely could hold back his strength to not break a piece of the table with the way he was holding into it. you grabbed him with both hands now, sliding in and out fast, pressing him further into the table and making his body grind against it.

"ah, ah, ah, ha- harder. want-mGHH. ah, ah, da-aah-ddy" he always got so cock dumb when you had your way with him. you give him a slap, making him yelp breathlessly before repeating a variation of your name and the word daddy, so prettily that it got you thinking.

"maybe i should knock you up so you can really make me a daddy" you felt in your dick when the words made him react, his body stopping a second but his walls getting tight, keeping you in. "you'd like that? you think i'm deep enough to put a baby in you?"

you slid deeper, and he moaned louder, a trail of saliva already making a big wet stop in the table where he couldn't keep his mouth shut. you fuck him harder, rougher, not able to stop spilling dirty words seeing how much it affected him.

"c'mon peter you already are a dad, you want to be a mommy now?" his next whine was high-pitched, you knew he was close again. "i"ll fuck you good, make sure it takes. all day full of cum, just how you always like to be" the wet noise the lube created in every thrust was just as sinful as your words.

"come for me again, mama. milk my dick as you desperately want" peter's face was now against the table, he had given up on talking, just mumbling and letting out moans as his eyes went up in his head. you reached for his dick then, squeezing it at the same time you felt your own climax near and with another moan from the horny spider-man you both came.

his seed painted the floor again, legs tensing up but he hold his position for you, making sure you came deep inside him. and you did. staying there until peter could close his mouth again after riding his own intense orgasm, and you slid out loving the view of his abused hole twitching for the loss.

"you're an asshole" was the first thing he said, his brain and mouth able to function better now after some minutes. he was blushing, holding back a pout as you cleaned his legs and then his cheek from the dried saliva. you smiled raising an eyebrow at him, pinching his belly. "don't let our baby hear you saying that".

he push you slightly, his face redder. you've just found out your lover's newest kink, and you intended to explore it fully.

[lu-lus-dicks]

Shush. I am not the least bit sleepy rn. I slept 17 hours yesterday and I have extra sleep leftover (Yes, I know that's not how sleep works and I choose to ignore it this once)

shoutout to the most mentally ill people here

I ask that you all seek therapy <3

@the-aprilfools-bitch @velvette3 @redmegarex @nunalastorscursedkitten

[lalunanymph]

𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 — m. reo

↳ reo could never love you out loud. and you... you only belonged to him in the middle of the night.

𖨆♡𖨆 mikage reo x fem!reader

✧.* this is a sugar d*ddy reo and nagi’s daughter au ;’@@@ based on this post // ps: i also wrote this in an hour pls do not perceive my mega simp energy for this beautiful, beautiful man

✧.* age gap (reo is in his 40s and reader is in her early-20s), fem!reader, forbidden relationships, unprotected sex, lovesick reo & reader, mentions of food & alcohol

— mini masterlist (tba)

#1: HURTS SO GOOD

Everything about Mikage Reo is refined. Tasteful. Classy.

From his neatly pressed collars and stainless shoes; perfectly steamed slacks and neatly parted lilac hair, anyone who had a pair of eyes could see how attractive Reo was.

Even you, with your bright-eyed youth and life laid ahead, weren’t exempted from his charms. How his smiles directed at you during those rare gatherings attended by your father’s old soccer colleagues made your heart spin and stop.

How his subtle grazes on your arm, thigh and lower back made your skin all warm and tingly.

The truth was undeniable: you wanted Reo and he wanted you, too.

One day, fueled with alcohol and pent-up frustration from yet another stupid college boy ghosting you, you had taken dad’s friend by the elbow and crashed your lips to his, tasting his low moan of surprise and sudden, quick gasp.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured even as he lifted your thigh to wrap around his still lissom waist. And you agreed. But, you never stopped him; neither did he want you to stop.

His lips stained your consciousness with guilt even as you laid sated in his arms. The next day, he bought you a bouquet of roses and sent it to your apartment as an apology and a promise last night would never repeat again.

You had sent it back with a note saying he shouldn’t hurt a woman’s feelings like that and he pulled up not even an hour later, holding a packet of takeout and another bouquet, this time not attached to any regrets.

Everything would’ve been perfect in this blossoming relationship except for one glaring fact.

Reo could never love you out loud. And you…

You only belonged to him in the middle of the night.

“R-Reo…”

The rough rasp of his palm sliding up your waist to hold you in place makes you stutter, and your eyes crossed in pleasure when he started to angle his hips deeper; taking everything you gave him with an enthusiasm which belied his creeping age.

His tongue charted a path from your earlobe to your jaw, the slickness of his spit leaving goosebumps trailing on your skin. “Yes, sweetheart?” He breathed onto your neck, and you wished you could hold him there; keep him glued to your side so he would never leave. So he could be the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes in the morning.

The sickly tendrils of love fester around your heart, vining rose thorns that spiked and pricked your tender hopes. But, like a true masochist, you continued to pluck and prod at the sharp edges, yearning to cup his affection in your hands like it was a beautiful, ruby red rose. Even if it would hurt you tomorrow; you would treasure the redolent scent and velvet touch till morning came.

“Please,” your slurry moans goaded him to gently prop you onto your knees, exposing your leaking pussy to the cool room air and your swollen nipples to his endless tweaking and teasing. “Kiss me.”

Your gasp was laced with ardent longing, and Reo’s low groan made your heartbeat stumble like a metronome. He gently lifted your face and tilted it closer to his. Reo’s kisses were soft as petals, tasting like sin. His tongue touched the inner rim of your mouth, and you let him in; let him taste and take you. Let him pillage and own you over and over again.

His cock stilled deep in you, and his calloused finger pads from a youth on the soccer field, dragged down your thighs, straight to your pulsing clit. Reo loved to kiss you deeply as he played with your throbbing bud; pinching it, rubbing tight circles onto the slick flesh—anything to get you gasping and preening in his touch.

“Sensitive, hmm?” he murmured and you nodded, hazy and fucked out.

“Mhm—want you, Reo.”

He kissed down your neck, slow and achingly romantic as his thrusts picked up the pace, approaching a fever pitch. “I want you too, sweet one. So, so much.”

His left hand curled around your neck, holding you firmly to him, and his bare ring finger dug into your pulse point, making you choked softly.

Once, you had asked him why he never married and he told you, wistfully, that he couldn’t see himself in a long term relationship with anyone. Most women wanted him for his money, and they left after they got their bills paid; their mortgages cleared and new leases signed. Reo swore he would never make that mistake again—the mistake of loving someone so wholeheartedly and foolishly.

Until you came along.

You, with your gentle smiles, sarcastic rebukes and firm principles so different from your father’s detrimental slacking. Growing up, you were never left wanting for any material need in life courtesy of your father’s colourful football career.

You never asked Reo for anything, but strangely, the ex-pro player and CEO of Mikage Corp wanted to give you everything.

It’s just too bad you could never fully be his.

“R-Reo, I’m…” your pretty face screwed up in pleasure and he felt your walls starting to shudder and melt around him. Reo doubled down on your clit and started to lightly spank the little, flushed pearl.

“Cum for me,” he murmured, low and carnal into the shell of your ear. “Cum for me and let me feel you, baby.”

Baby. You would always be Mikage Reo’s baby.

Your hips surged forward, white staining your vision and you released a stream of moans, panting his name into the dark room.

His soft grunt and hips stuttering alerted your ringing mind to his cum filling you right to the brim, and you both tumbled onto the plush couch in a haze of limbs and heavy breathing.

Reo was the first to pull you into his arms, and you didn’t resist, seeking his warmth like how a child would find comfort in their favourite blanket.

“Do you really have to go to that stupid conference?”You murmured and he chuckled, nosing your hair. His mid-length lilac locks and sigh tickled your shoulder.

“Unfortunately, I have to, pretty. Isagi will kill me if I miss this one out.”

“But, it’s our anniversary.” He didn’t have to look at you to know you were pouting. Reo hummed, tracing random patterns onto your back.

“I’ll take you out to somewhere spectacular, baby. I know it’s been a long time coming and I want to make it perfect. Just you and I, yeah? I’m gonna choose your outfit and what you get to wear underneath that pretty dress. Then, we’ll come back home and I’ll fuck you on this sofa and make you some frozen strawberry daiquiris to celebrate. How’s that sound, pretty girl?”

You snorted at his meticulous planning but inwardly swooned with nerves and anticipation, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

Suddenly, the lock of your apartment turned and you yelped, about to throw a quilt on your lover’s bare body when your dad’s unmistakably tall frame lumbered into the living room.

“Baby girl? You here? Oka-san wanted me to pass you some herbs. She said you weren’t feeling well. What a pain it is, huh? I know you must be bothered—“

Nagi Seishiro stopped dead in his tracks. On the lush sofa he remembered pointing out as a good choice for his daughters’ apartment, his baby watched him with wide, fearful eyes.

Beside her, similarly made of stone, his best friend since high school, the man who followed him everywhere from the ends of the earth and back; who was there for every high and low of his soccer career and even attended his precious baby’s isshou mochi ceremony, was completely pale with fright.

Naked as the day he was born, cock against his defined thigh, and arms around his daughter.

His baby girl.

“What the… what the hell is this?!”

©️ all rights belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Part 2

WC: 12.5K

awe yeeeeah here we go. One ticket to smut town. Read at yo own risk!

TW: talks of death, Harry is so d*ddy in this I’m shaking, agegap

yes, daddy, I will 

Read Part 1

~

Sunday morning, as promised, Briar is working the cart on the back course. She includes an additional bottle of Casamigos in her first fill of the day, just in case. To spice up the early morning rounds, she added string lights to her cart. They cast a pink hue over her face as the sun finishes rising.

Briar loves her outfit today. A white, fitted skort with a long-sleeve lavender zip up. She used self-tanner, last night, so her skin is tanned and glowing.

She spots Harry on the practice putting green as she pulls out of the garage. She looks down at her watch. He’s really here at 7:15 AM on a Sunday? Dedication. His long legs are covered by light khaki pants that hug him in the right places, and a navy blue long sleeve.

It seems they’re the only two souls on the course right now. Perfect. She slowly approaches the green, in hopes for redemption. She throws the cart in park and hops out to greet him on the other side.

“Hi, Harry,” Briar says, offering him a shy smile. “Can I grab you anything?”

Harry smiles, putting his putter bag in his bag. He throws both hands in his pockets and begins to walk over to her.

“Morning, Briar. S’early, are they paying you extra to come out here?”

“No, just out here out of the goodness of my heart to serve the dedicated players who are practicing at 7AM on a Sunday,” she teases, finally making direct eye contact with him.

He smirks, placing his hand on the top of the cart and leaning closer to her, admiring the new lights she added.

“Well, I have a new incentive to play the back course more often.”

She inhales sharply. “C-can I get you anything?” she repeats herself, after a beat passes.

“No, thanks, love. I’d better wait for Niall. Plus, it’s a bit early for the hard stuff.”

“I have coffee and orange juice, too!” she squeaks, eyes widening as she recognizes her outburst.

He smiles and says, “Coffee sounds great. Do you have cold brew?”

“Yep! Do you want any cream or sugar?”

“No, thanks. Black is just fine.”

She pours the cold brew into her signature lavender cup. She holds out her cup of colorful bendy straws for him to choose from. He opts for a teal straw with a dolphin charm. She smiles at his choice.

His large hands grasp the cup tightly. She notices the small cross tattoo on his left hand, along with what appears to be an anchor peeking out under his sleeve. During their unfortunate run-in, she didn’t have time to take inventory of every tattoo. She’d jump at the chance to examine each one.

It’s not that she’s intimidated by Harry, but the unreadable way he looks at her makes her feel uneasy. He’s smirking at her, seemingly unbothered by the silence.

“Okay, well, I’ll catch up with you and Niall later, then,” She trails off.

“Looking forward to it. Cheers,” he lifts the cup in her direction, much like their second encounter, and saunters back toward his clubs. He places a $20 bill in her jar on his way.

She pauses for a moment, before jumping back into the cart. As she’s pulling away, she hears the sound of Niall’s boisterous voice calling out for Harry. She smiles and continues on the path.

~

After serving a few groups, Briar is ready for a break a little after 1PM. She pulls the cart over in a lightly wooded area overlooking the 14th hole, not quite hidden from view, but certainly off the beaten path. She sighs, pulling her chips and guacamole out of her lunch box, along with her favorite green iced tea.

She is fussing with her phone with her feet elevated on the cart’s front windscreen when she begins to hear a rustling in the woods behind her. It’s not uncommon to come across foxes, groundhogs, deer or even a possum, but they make her weary nonetheless.

She slowly turns to face the sound before seeing Harry pop out behind a tree.

“Hi, love.”

She shrieks, a delayed reaction, after staring at him for 5 whole seconds.

He chuckles, raising his arms in defense. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t think I’d scare you.”

“How’d you see me, anyway?” She asks, looking around the empty area.

“I came over this way to look for my— Niall — Niall’s ball,” he stumbles, scratching his head at the nape of his neck.

She smiles, knowing he’s full of shit. He just doesn’t want to admit he made a terrible shot.

“Well, hope you don’t have to look too hard.”

He snorts, “Thanks. Hey, while I’m here, can I grab some drinks for us?” He asks, craning his neck to see her snack on the bench of the cart. “Oh shit, are you on a break? I won’t bother you, then.”

“It’s no bother. What would you like?”

“Mich Ultra for Niall, and you can surprise me for mine, thanks,” he smiles sheepishly.

He smiles as she pours his usual Casamigos on the rocks with a lime. Maybe one day she’ll give him a splash of grapefruit or pineapple juice to mix it up.

“S’no problem. Have a good rest of your round,” she smiles.

“Thanks, Birdie, I’ll need all the luck I can get,” he says, placing a $50 bill in her tip jar before walking away with the drinks.

She calls after him, a bit stunned, “Birdie?”

“Yeah, been getting a lot of birdies since I’ve been seeing you out here. You’re my good luck charm. Should’ve started playing the back course ages ago.”

She smiles softly, staring down at her shoes as he walks off. The twisting feeling in her stomach from the pet name makes her dizzy. She sits down to finish her snack and scroll Instagram for a few more minutes before continuing on her way.

Harry finally bought drinks from her, instead of Niall! She drums her knuckles on the steering wheel and sets off towards the clubhouse. She’s grateful he chose not to bring up the run-in after the steam room. Based on their most recent interactions, she’s ready to put that behind her.

She sees Cam on the side of the garage, hitting her vape before shoving it in her pocket.

“Don’t you dare tell Patrick you saw me doing that,” she threatens.

“What do I care? I told him when I started he can’t use me as a spy,” Briar reasons. “Doesn’t everyone in the service industry smoke anyway?”

“Yeah, but there is no three strike rule at Wynnewood. One time and you’re done. Even if you’re seen overly fraternizing with a member, you’re out of here.”

Briar inhales, “Oh, really? Does that happen a lot?”

“I’d say once a summer there is some sort of inappropriate hook-up. Just hasn’t happened yet,” Cam smirks.

Briar nods, staring off toward the restaurant.

“Hey, let me know if you want to grab an early dinner with me after your shift. Dominic promised me a free meal because I’m working a double on Father’s Day.”

“Oh, nice. Yeah, I’ll join,” she smiles, wondering if she’ll cross paths with Harry as they’re finishing their round.

~

The course emptied out significantly by 3PM, so Dominic let Briar off early. She decides to use the extra time to shower and bask in the club’s deluxe amenities. She changes into an outfit she keeps in the back of her Jeep, a pair of white linen pants and a cream, fitted tank top. She ties a cashmere sweater over her shoulders to get the country club look. It’s conservative enough, but walks the line of the dress code.

Her hair is perfectly fluffy after using the Dyson Airwrap, the $600 hair tool that lives freely in the women’s locker room. She touched up her make up, adjusting it slightly now that she’s in front of members at the club.

She turns town the hallway, close proximity to her run-in with Harry, where she sees her uncle chatting with another man. He pats Patrick on the back and continues toward the locker room.

Patrick smiles, placing a hand on her shoulder blade, “Hey, Briar bear! How was your day?”

“Good, started off busy and tapered off, I think the hot weather has people…” she trails off as Harry comes into view, his face stoic as he sees her in close proximity to Patrick.

“Hey there,” Patrick says to Harry.

Harry looks Patrick up and down before giving him a slight nod, “Hello.”

Unable to sit through an awkward silence, Briar interjects, “This is Harry, ‘ve been serving him over the last few weeks on the course. Harry, this is my Uncle Patrick. He’s the golf pro here, actually.”

A look washes over Harry’s face. Is it relief?

“Ah, how’re you doing, mate?” he says, shaking Patrick’s hand. “My buddy Niall swears by your techniques. Maybe you should tone it down. He’s getting closer to beating me everyday,” Harry laughs.

“Yes, Niall! Nice guy. His form has come a long way,” he smiles, looking back at Briar. “I hope you’ve been taking care of my niece out there.”

“Of course. We’ve been calling her our beer angel,” Harry says.

“I’ve been told she’s pretty persuasive. Maybe it’s the generous portions,” he cracks a smile, tousling her hair a bit. “She’s a great addition to the course. She even helped me make a list of members who haven’t taken a session with me. I think you might be one of them.”

Briar’s cheeks heat up. Ugh! Harry is going to find out that’s how she got his name to look him up online. Patrick has a way of embarrassing her without even realizing.

“Hey, speaking of, why don’t you set a time up with me sometime this summer. You probably don’t need it, but you never know, you could always learn something.”

“That sounds great, Patrick, thanks. Well, I’ve got to meet a few people for an early dinner, so I’ll see you both some other time,” Harry smiles softly, gazing at her a beat longer than at Patrick.

“Bye, Harry. Nice to meet you,” Patrick says, oblivious to the burning tension between the two.

Patrick and Briar part ways for a lesson he’s late for. Patrick teaches school aged girls golf every Sunday evening to encourage more of them to get out on the course.

She continues on to the main dining room, poking her head in the door to say hello to the evening kitchen staff. She spots Cam at a table in the corner, perched on one of the comfy leather chairs.

“I love this table, you can people watch for hours. Sometimes I like to narrate what I see,” Cam laughs, drawing Briar’s attention to where she’s pointing.

“There, that lady is like, ‘ugh, I had to take out the Benz instead of the Rolls this afternoon. Can you even believe it?’” Cam says in her most dramatic old lady voice.

“And look, there’s Harry and Niall, I bet they’re planning their weekend hook-ups, like ‘mate, she’s a rocket, she’s totally in t’me’,” She says, in the worst Irish accent Briar has ever heard.

Harry and Niall are leaning against the bar, sipping on their drinks, listening to another man tell an animated story. Harry’s eyes can’t help but gaze in Cam and Briar’s direction.

Briar bursts out laughing, “That was supposed to be Niall?”

“I never said my narrations were good. We can’t all be Snoop Dogg watching Planet Earth.”

“What’s their story, anyway? Are they both single? I’m pretty sure they’re in their 40’s,” Briar asks.

“Mmm, yeah, I think they’re just forever bachelors. I’ve never seen them eat here with women, or have a ring on that finger, for that matter. But, I really don’t know for sure.”

The girls order delicious meals and sip on their cocktails. They’re about to wrap up when their waiter, Isaiah, brings over a bottle of Dom Perignon. Cam’s eyes bug out of her head.

“Zay, what’s this for?”

“Not sure, that member over there, the guy with the brown curly hair, sent it over. If you guys don’t want it, I’ll take it,” Isaiah tries.

“Mmmm, no, don’t think so. We’ll take it. Thanks, Zay,” Cam smiles devilishly. Isaiah pops the cork, pouring two glasses before walking off, pissed he can’t drink Dom P on the clock.

Throughout the interaction, Harry has been staring at their table, waiting for Briar to look over at him. She looks up and smiles shyly. He smirks, raising his glass to her, to which she mirrors his action. Their unspoken sign of gratitude to one another.

“So, when are you gonna hook up with him?” Cam asks, bluntly.

Briar’s eyes bug out, nearly spitting out the champagne, “Huh?”

“Why are you so shocked? Based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like a sure thing,” Cam says plainly.

“I-I thought you said I can get fired for that,” Briar questions.

“Yeah, if you get caught. Just don’t get caught.”

Don’t get caught. Sure.

Secret romances have always been her favorite kind of books. The exhilarating feeling of almost being caught, becoming the talk of the town as the news spreads like wildfire.

She’s all in; though, she questions the implication of being Patrick’s niece. The last thing she wants to do is embarrass him. She put him and her Aunt Meredith through the wringer as a teenager. She’s not looking to repeat her high school and early college antics.

She nods, absently.

Cam and Briar finish up their dessert and champagne, get their employee discounts and pay, before heading off for the night. Briar is exhausted, ready to crawl into bed after showering and taking Gus out for a walk.

As Briar walks to her Jeep, she sees the valet boys pull a black Range Rover out front. She pauses for a moment, waiting to see who’s getting in.

Harry pushes open the heavy oak doors of Wynnewood, alone, taking large strides to get in the driver’s seat of the car. He looks around, spotting Briar, and extends a wave, with a smirk, sending that funny feeling straight to her gut.

She is so fucked.

~

Her break on Monday afternoon is a longer one. The course is empty, only seeing a few golfers here and there. She pulls into the same wooded area where Harry scared the daylights out of her the week prior.

She closes her eyes, throwing her sunglasses over to face to try and make it look like she’s not taking a nap on the clock. She just barely dozes off when she sees someone approaching. Harry.

“Hey, Birdie,” he says, smirking. “Taking a little cat nap on the job?”

“Fishing your ball out of the woods again?” She strikes back. He busts out laughing, the first genuine laugh she’s heard.

He likes that she has some bite to her, and that she can make him laugh. A real laugh. Not the kind he forces out when he’s looking to get his dick wet. He helps himself to a water bottle in the cooler, not wanting to make her get up for him.

“Slide over,” he says, expecting her to make some room on the bench for him. She gawks at him for a moment to analyze his face, but obeys. He plops down, placing an arm behind her on the edge of the backrest.

Briar is frozen in place before asking, “Where’s Niall?”

“I’m not always with him. Even I need a break from him sometimes,” he says, nonchalantly. “Came by myself for some peace and quiet. It’s nice to play with headphones in and listen to a podcast.”

“I can see that. Big personality,” she says, not forgetting about the arm that’s snaked around her shoulders. “What’re you listening to?”

“A finance podcast. Kind of boring, but lately I’ve been too busy to read the news.”

“Yeah, real busy. S’that why you’re out here on a Monday at 11AM?” she says, looking up at him to see his reaction. When meeting new people, she likes to test the waters a bit, making sure their sense of humor syncs up.

He chuckles lowly, sucking his bottom lip in his mouth, shaking his head. “Most of the time I’m here, it’s for business,” he increases the pressure where their bodies are touching. “This trip is for pleasure.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his face mere inches from her. His eyes are burning holes into the side of her head.

He closes the gap when she finally looks over at him, linking their lips together. His arm moves from the back rest to wrap around her lower back, gently laying his finger tips there. The kiss starts out innocently enough, before Briar pulls away, frantically looking around.

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” he assures her. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’re okay.”

They resume their kiss, Briar now twisted to face him fully. She can taste the gum he must’ve recently chewed. This fucker came to find her for one thing only, she thinks. She doesn’t mind, though.

His right hand reaches down to pet at the soft skin of her outer thigh, now exposed from her skort riding up. She parts her lips to make room for his tongue that begins to shyly explore her mouth. The same hand begins to migrate toward her ass, so she readjusts to where she is perched on the bench in a kneeling position, now nearly eye height with Harry.

She finally reaches her hands out to touch him; her left hand resting on his right pec, and right hand around the nape of his neck. She pulls away, staring straight into his emerald eyes. Her self control is washing away, but she pulls herself together.

“‘M not supposed to have anyone in the cart with me,” she says, doe eyes wide, darting back and forth to read his face.

He busts out another genuine laugh while pinching her thigh, “Is that what you’re thinking about, Birdie?”

She sits back down and her hands go to the steering wheel. “Well, I’m thinking about other things, too, like how you’re a member and I’m an employee.”

He hums, “I think it’s just a divine intervention. Us, being here at this course together as frequently as we are. I’m a member at quite a few places, but this one seems to draw me in more than the others recently.”

Divine intervention? She ponders this, but says nothing. How many country club fees can this guy afford?

“I should probably go,” he says, standing up and stretching after being hunched over in the cart. Her heart sinks at this, but she doesn’t let it show on her face.

“Don’t worry, Birdie, I’ll come back for you,” he says, grabbing her chin like he did in the hallway, placing one last chaste kiss on her lips. “What time does your shift end?”

“Around 3:30.”

“Excellent. Stick around, maybe we can go somewhere this afternoon. I’ll drive us.”

“O-okay. That sounds good.”

“Bye, Birdie,” he says, walking down the path toward the green.

She takes a deep breath to try and regulate her heart beat. It’s already 2:30, so she races back to the clubhouse to try and beg Dominic to let her go early. He gives in, but only if she promises to be the number caller at the next member bingo night.

“Yeah, yeah, sure! Thanks, Dom,” she squeals as she runs off toward the locker room. She spends the extra time preparing for her afternoon with Harry. Her outfit is casual; a white, nearly sheer button down top with light-wash jeans and sandals.

She heads out to her Jeep at 3:37PM. Not too early, not too late. Harry’s car is once again pulled up to the valet stand out front. She watches him head down the stairs, confused, looking around to find where she is.

He changed into his street clothes as well; a pair of cream trousers, white under shirt and a patterned button down. She takes notice of his Vans; an interesting choice for a 40 year old, she supposes.

She waves him over. He acknowledges her and jumps in the car to pull into the spot adjacent to hers. He rolls down the window, perplexed, but motions for her to get in. She rounds the side of the vehicle and steps in.

“I didn’t want anyone to see us,” she says, sheepishly. He understands.

“That’s okay, Birdie. Here, while I drive, go ahead and put your number in my phone. I realized I didn’t grab it when I was looking for you out front.”

Her stomach twists as he hands it to her. She can see his phone is playing Beast of Burden on the Range Rover’s stereo. She carefully types in the numbers, and makes her contact name a simple “🐥” on the off chance someone from the club were to see his phone. And because his nickname for her is fucking adorable.

“I made my name the chick emoji,” she smiles.

“I like that. Thank you. Did you text yourself so you have mine?” he asks.

“Yes. I made yours the fox emoji,” she laughs.

“What? Why?” he questions, alternating looking over at her and the road.

“When you scared me by the woods, I thought it was a fox rustling through the bushes,” she grins. He squawks out a laugh.

“A birdie and a fox. I like it.”

She glances out the window, unsure where he is taking her.

“Where are we going anyway?”

“I thought we could go get drinks and take a stroll through the park. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, bobbing her head to the Eagles song he has on.

~

Harry is extremely easy to talk to. They got their drinks, paid for by Harry, and walked over to the public garden. Summer is just around the corner, so the lawn is busy with people and the flowers are blooming.

Briar sips on her iced green tea, while Harry nurses a black cold brew. His other hand is in his pocket, but she wouldn’t be mad if he held hers. She’s glad they didn’t go for alcoholic drinks; she finds herself to be less talkative and more anxious if she drinks before a date.

If that’s what they’re calling it.

They walk the perimeter of the garden, talking about everything and nothing, stopping only to look at the ducks swimming and eating grapes thrown by energetic toddlers. Harry learns Briar is a Libra, graduated with honors from Boston College, and one day wants to own an animal sanctuary.

He shares with her his funny college stories, and adventures with Niall since they first became pals in college. He recounts their trip through Indonesia, where they got such bad food poisoning from the street food, they could barely lift their heads to look outside. Only to have the same exact thing happen the following week in Thailand.

As the conversation lulls, Harry’s gaze extends towards a bench off in the distance, tucked away in an alcove of willow trees and flower bushes.

They instinctively walk over in that direction. Briar sits, followed by Harry. Their bodies are pressed together again.

“I keep thinking about earlier today,” he says, fiddling with his hands. She smiles, looking over at him.

“Me too. I wouldn’t mind repeating it.”

“Yeah?” he says, smiling and inching closer to her.

“Yeah.”

Briar closes the gap this time, eagerly kissing into his mouth. Her hand comes up to cup his face. Harry deepens the kiss, using his tongue to explore every inch of her mouth. He eases up, opting to suck on her lower lip. They naturally break apart, her lower lip now red and plump.

“How far do you live from here?”

Harry is taken back by her forwardness. He’s picked up on her blunt nature, but she continues to keep him on his toes. His stomach twists in indecision, not wanting to move too quickly with her. She is, after all, a delicate little bird.

He’s quiet for a beat, surveying the look on her face, “Not far. Why? What’d you have in mind?”

“Well, you said you’re amazing at Scrabble. Let’s see you put some money where your mouth is.”

He smiles brightly, shocked at her answer. “Fine, you’re on. Don’t go crying when my stellar vocabulary comes out.”

He grabs her hand and guides her to stand up from the bench. They follow the path the way they came, passing an ice cream truck.

“Ooh! Do you want to split a cone?” she looks up at him, eyes the size of saucers.

“I’d love to. Which flavor?”

“Mint chocolate chip? Do you like that kind?”

“It’s m’favorite, actually,” he smirks at her, pulling out his wallet to give the worker a $10. He tells her to keep the change as she hands him the small sugar cone.

“We can stay here and eat. I’d hate to get it inside your car,” she says, staring at the black SUV across the street.

She’s sweet, thoughtful, and a little spicy. His favorite combination. He watches as she takes two delicate, kitten-like licks and extending the cone in his direction. He leans in to take his first bite, only for her to shove the cone in his face, causing both of them to erupt in giggles. She blots the napkin on his cheek to remove the mess.

“Fine, if we’re playing like that, don’t mind if I do,” Harry says, taking a large bite of the ice cream and cone, causing her to squeal.

“No! The cone is the best part!” Briar laughs, trying to steal what she can get.

They finish their cone, using Briar’s wet wipes from her bag to clean their hands and faces. Harry grabs her hand once more, guiding them to the car. Briar opts to link their pinkies together as they walk. Harry thinks it’s cute.

Their pinkies are locked for the duration of the drive, Harry dropping them only once to switch gears. They pull up to his place, a beautiful brownstone, clearly renovated in the last few years. His garage door opens as they get closer.

Briar waits for his lead, to which he pads around the front of the car to open her door. He leads her through the door to his mudroom, where he removes his shoes and socks. She follows suit, placing her bag on a hook by the door.

His decor is eclectic; warm, dark wood tones meeting bold colors, where appropriate. His walls are anything but bare; classic rock posters and delicate pieces of art litter every inch.

They arrive in his kitchen; a wide open space with updated appliances and gorgeous quartz stone countertops. His counters are neat, but certainly reflect a man lives there alone; various protein powders and supplements, along with raw fruits and even some tins of baked goods scattered around.

His attention is drawn to the room on the other side of the counter, where he hangs out the most. A TV hangs above the grand soapstone fireplace, where a large, L-shaped sofa resides.

“Head in there, I’ll grab us some water and grab the game.”

She smiles. While she’s happy to play Scrabble with Harry, she wouldn’t have minded he act on the double meaning of her self-invitation to his house. She’ll take what she can get.

Her eyes are drawn to his bookcase, filled with classics, new releases, and everything in between. She even spots Beach Read by Emily Henry. She chuckles to herself. She notices the abundance of Bukowski novels as Harry enters.

“Ya know, it’s a red flag when a guy is reading Bukowski,” Briar teases, running her fingers along the spine of one of the books, aware of Bukowski’s underlying theme of misogyny throughout his works.

“I’ve heard that. I think it matters more what you do with the topics he writes about, than the topics themselves. I read what he says, and go, ‘welp, won’t be doing that,’” he laughs.

He places the board game box down on the expansive coffee table. He doesn’t immediately open the box, in case Briar has other plans. She moves from the bookcase around the coffee table to sit on the sofa a respectable distance from Harry.

“How long have you lived here?” she asks, making note of the tall ceilings.

“5 years. I bought it in dilapidated shape and fully renovated it. The renovations took around 3 years. I lived with my friend, Ben, and his wife while it was being done. They had a nice attic apartment set up for me,” he recalls, smiling to himself.

“That’s really cool. What was your favorite part? The planning, the build, or the designing?”

“A little bit of everything. I was hellbent on keeping the historical integrity of the place, but it really only came to life when the finishing details came in. I’m really proud of the art pieces and trinkets I’ve picked up over the years, so I wanted everything to work well together.”

She hums at his thoughtful answer. “I don’t actually want to play Scrabble, you know.”

He smiles, looking directly at her, “I was hoping you’d say that, but I wanted to be a gentleman.”

She appreciates his honesty, and moves closer on the large sofa. Harry leans in again, this time, nudging her to sit in his lap. She clamors on, straddling over his legs. Their kiss deepens as she begins to strategically move her hips over his crotch.

He speaks between the feverish kisses, “I only wanna do what you're,” he kisses again, “—comfortable with, Briar.”

She pauses when she hears him say her name. She’s gotten used to the pet name, so it catches her off guard. “I appreciate that, but I’m good for anything, Harry.”

A groan catches in his throat. One day, down the line, she’ll wish she never said that. But today, he’s spoiling her in gentle kisses and slow movements. Before he even realizes, she peels herself off of him, kneeling in front of him on the ground and making a move toward his belt buckle. A few of the pillows slid off the sofa with her, creating a soft nest on the floor. He inhales sharply, recognizing there is no turning back in this fling with the beverage cart girl at his country club.

He pets at her hair, collecting the stray strands that lay on her face. She peers up at him, almost asking for permission. He runs his thumb along her cheek, encouraging her to keep going. In a perfect world, he’d be the one to pleasure her first, but there will always be time for that, he supposes.

She releases the buckle while unbuttoning his trousers, revealing his black Calvin Klein briefs. Briar runs her index finger along the length outlined by his underwear. He shudders, holding back a whine.

Briar releases him from the confines, preparing herself to come face to face with his size. She’s not the most sexually promiscuous girl, but she’s not a prude, either. His size intimidates her, she has to admit. Her two previous boyfriends’ dicks paled in comparison to Harry’s. But, she’s proud of her “can-do” attitude, so she continues on.

Briar wraps her small hand around him, eliciting the quietest moan from Harry, who’s patiently watching her from above. She peers back up at him before licking one cohesive stripe from the base to his tip, before swirling her tongue around the very top. She repeats the movement two more times before enveloping him in her mouth.

She nearly moans at the taste of him, plus the delicious girth stuffing her mouth to the brim. Her first move to fit more of him in her throat forces her to breathe through her nose and settle down a bit.

“Taking me so well, Birdie,” he grunts, laying his head back. “So fucking good.”

He can sense her lack of oxygen, so he taps her on the cheek to remind her to breathe. She peeks up at him, a lazy smile on his face. After a few more minutes, he grunts out, “Okay, baby, that’s enough.”

She pulls off of him with a pop, and one more tug for good measure. She stands, placing her hands on his knees, leaning in to kiss him again. He welcomes it, deepening the kiss once more. She loves when men kiss her after oral; she can’t say so about her past boyfriends.

He tucks himself back in his underwear, making her cock her head at him. He stands, pants still unbuckled, grabbing her hand to lock pinkies, assuming he’s leading her to his bedroom. Her suspicions are correct as they climb the staircase in the main entrance, yet another grandiose and impeccably designed room.

His room is the last in the dimly lit hall. She makes note of the hallway’s gallery wall filled with photos of Harry from all years of his life, and a few landscapes she assumes he took himself. She makes a note to ask him about them later.

He opens the door, revealing a cozy, neat bedroom. She can clearly see a balcony straight ahead that overlooks his small garden area out back. He pulls her to stand at the foot of the bed, kissing her.

He reaches to pull his shirt off, tugging it off by the neckline, revealing the tattoos she got a glimpse of at the club.

“Wow, I didn’t get to take a close look at your tattoos last time,” she jokes, running her hands along the mermaid on his forearm.

“You were looking, don’t lie to me,” he teases, placing his tongue in his cheek. He gently reaches out to remove her shirt, to which she complies, pulling it off, leaving her in her bra and trousers.

Harry can’t choose where to look first, her supple breasts, or her toned midsection. He takes a deep breath, before reaching for the button of her pants. She stands, like putty in his hands, allowing him to take control.

When she’s in just her bra and thong, he places his knee in between her legs, nudging her to sit on the bed and lay back. She reaches back to remove her bra, sending her breasts pouring out. Harry has to hold himself back from ogling her.

“So fucking hot. From the moment I saw you,” Harry says, adjusting his pants.

She slides back, awkwardly, until her head is closer to the headboard. He follows, elevating himself by his left arm in a plank position. He drops his knees to either side of her. He shuffles backward so his face is directly above her center. He looks down like a dog eyeing a bone, and gently lowers his face to kiss her on the outside of her underwear.

He plants her feet on the bed and pulls the fabric aside, revealing her glistening core, eyeing it hungrily. He looks back up at her, to which she smiles gently at him, a blissful look on her face. He takes a long lick, from bottom to top, receiving a whine from Briar in response. Her taste is already driving him wild.

She begins to squirm, to which he locks his bicep around her leg to keep her still. He sticks his tongue out, making contact with her clit, while using his other hand to pet her entrance. He looks up, the bottom half of his face buried in her, to see her head thrown back as she holds up her upper body on her elbows.

He inserts his middle finger into her, making her pant and move her leg.

“Relax, Birdie,” Harry says gently, bringing her mind back to him. He circles his tongue around her clit, seeing which side is more sensitive. Her response when he hit her left side tells him his answer. He continues his blunt attack as he feels her tighten around his fingers. He’s since added a second and third digit, lightly curling his finger tips to pet her G-spot.

“C’mon, Birdie, get there,” he encourages, his husky voice pushing her closer to the edge, his breath on her folds making her whine. One more thrust of his fingers has her shivering, turning the build up of pressure in her pelvis into a wave of pleasure. He rides her through it, slowing down his tongue on her clit.

Her facial expression is unreadable. She lowers her head back down to the bed, abruptly pulling her elbows out from under her so she collapses the rest of the way down. He uses this time to readjust himself in his briefs.

“Wow,” she breathes, wiping a little bit of sweat from her forehead. They both stay exactly where they are, catching their breaths, before Harry joins her on the upper portion of the mattress.

He’s laying on his side, hand under his head, creating a triangle with his arm, and gently reaches out to pet her side.

“You good? Do you want to go back downstairs?” He questions, taking note of her current state.

“What? You didn’t come…” she trails off, eyeing his crotch. He looks uncomfortable.

“Hey, it’s okay, I wanted to take care of you,” he assures. She stares at him before kissing him hard, tasting herself on his tongue. He takes that as her answer. Harry maneuvers so he’s above her once more, this time pulling her underwear down her legs, and taking off his own pants and briefs. While she gets comfy, he unwraps and rolls a condom down his cock.

He takes her legs and throws one over his shoulder, placing his hand next to her head. He guides his length so its aligned perfectly with her center. He pushes the bulbous head past the ring of muscle, exhaling as he does so.

“Oh, baby,” he grits out, trying to hold back from vigorously thrusting into her. He reaches out to grab her boob, flicking his thumb over her nipple. She shivers, squeaking out a sensual moan.

“Feels so good, Harry. Start moving please…” she begs, squeezing her eyes shut in pleasure.

He completes a full thrust, staring at her core devouring him. He could watch this all day.  He thrusts quickly, but not hard, hoping to get her to cum one more time. He takes more shallow thrusts before pinching her clit with his thumb and index finger. He can feel her clench around him, making that same blissed out face like the last time.

“Wish you could see how well you take me, sweet girl,” he coos, increasing the pressure.

She grabs his bicep, “There, right there, Harry, ah!” as she rolls into another orgasm.

“Good girl,” he praises, making her absolutely melt below him. He’s thankful it came quick, as he feels himself hit a wall.

He takes one last, long thrust before pouring into the condom. They’re still for a moment as Harry drops down to his forearm, petting the hair out of her face. He gently pulls out, rolling over to stand up and discard the rubber.

By the time he turns around, she is under his top sheet to give a little modesty, leaning against the headboard. He joins her, loosely covering his lower half with the sheet. He reaches out to pet her inner thigh, a touch she appreciates.

“That was…Something,” he laughs, looking over at her. “You’re incredible.”

“Thanks,” she says shyly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Harry reaches for his phone on the side table. It’s already well past 9PM. His hand extends to gently tap her thigh under the covers.

“I’d love to have you stay, but I totally understand if you’d rather go home,” Harry says with kind eyes.

“Thanks, yeah, I actually have to get home for my dog. It’s been a long day for him.”

“You didn’t mention a dog! I love dogs,” Harry smiles as she shows him her phone’s lock screen of Gus with his tongue sticking out. “He’s gorgeous.”

“I’ll drive you back to Wynnewood to get your car,” Harry offers, standing to throw his clothes back on.

“That’d be great. Thanks,” Briar responds, rising to go into the attached ensuite. For other hookups, she’d ask to use the bathroom. Something about her interactions with Harry feel natural, putting her at ease.

She can hear him say he’ll wait for her downstairs as she’s finishing up washing her hands. She does her due-diligence, checking the bathroom for signs of another woman; a razor, loofah, sweet smelling body wash. The coast seems clear.

Briar takes her time walking down that same hallway to admire the dozens of photos on the wall. She sees one of Harry with two women, one she assumes to be his sister, and the other, his mom. They’re both gorgeous, like him.

She pads down the stairs to find him at his kitchen island. He smiles, looking up from his phone.

“Ready to go, Birdie?”

“Yeah, I’ll follow you out.”

~

When they arrive at the club, it’s packed with the late night crowd. It’s never not a party at Wynnewood. Harry pulls the car into the same spot, adjacent to her Jeep. She lingers before getting out.

“I had a really nice time with you, Harry,” she smiles shyly.

“Me, too. I’d love to take you out again, or even just hang at mine,” he says earnestly, reaching to grab her hand. “I can give you a call tomorrow to plan something.”

She almost laughs, forgetting Harry is older. Normally, she’d wait for a Snapchat from a hook up, asking, ‘WYD?’

“Sounds good,” she says, leaning in for a quick peck. He gladly obliges. She reaches for the handle, opening the door to the Range Rover. There’s no one outside of the club, except for the valet boys.

“Bye, Birdie,” he says, smiling.

“Bye, Harry.”

She shuts the door and Harry smiles as he watches her unlock and get into her Jeep. He waits until she starts the car successfully. She gives him a cute little wave and carefully pulls forward. He follows her out of the parking lot, only parting to go in their respective directions toward home.

In the distance, a pair of watchful eyes see them leave the parking lot of Wynnewood, making note of the interesting pair.

~

When Harry wakes up the next morning, replaying yesterday’s events in his head, he can barely wipe the smile from his face. He hasn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time. His nights have been filled with hook-ups with housewives in his pilates classes, and PTA moms from his niece’s school. He’s never been one to enjoy random hook-ups, but the last few years have brought significant amounts of stress his way.

Briar is special; full of charm, witty come backs, and all-around gorgeous. He thinks about the first moment he saw her at Wynnewood. Niall finally convinced him to return to the club after several years of bouncing around other courses in the area.

She was smiling brightly, washing the golf carts down with her co-workers. She has a way of bringing fun to even the most mundane tasks. Her golf outfit accentuated her features, matching his years’ long fantasy of hooking up with a girl that golfs. Whether she golfs or not, he’s unsure, but she looks damn cute in everything she wears.

He sends Briar a good morning text before jumping in the shower. She’s already at Wynnewood, filling him in on the drama he’s missing. The members should be featured on a Bravo show; the goings on are pure reality television material.

He spends extra time in the shower, easing his achey muscles. He’s played more rounds of golf in the last month than he has in his whole life, just to increase his chances of interacting with Briar. He feels a tiny, thumb-shaped bruise forming on his bicep, presumably from Briar’s grasp. He smiles.

His work days have been light recently, opting to delegate instead of jumping on the front lines of investing and trading. He’s been a hedge fund manager for a little over ten years, putting in the work to set him up for success for life. Many of his mentors and predecessors retired early, even younger than Harry, but he’s not quite ready to throw in the towel.

He responds to a few emails on his phone before entering his home office. Niall is coming over so they can strategize before a meeting. Their hedge fund used to have an office, but they opted to sell to give their employees the freedom to travel and work from where they please.

He hears Niall come in through the garage and make his way down the hall to Harry’s office. Harry is sat in his leather office chair and gives him a simple nod when he comes in.

“What’d you get up to yesterday?” Niall asks, plopping down in a seat adjacent to Harry’s. Niall and Harry spend an ungodly amount of time together, so he’s not surprised Niall asks this.

Harry hesitates, wondering how much he should share, or if Niall had somehow seen him and Briar yesterday.

“Um, not much, went to Wynnewood for a practice round in the morning, and then some random things in the afternoon,” Harry lies.

“Went to Wynnewood to see your girl Briar?” Niall smirks, crossing his legs at his ankles.

Harry runs his tongue along his teeth, holding back a smile, “Yes, I saw her there. She got me a nice drink and a snack.”

“Sure, buddy,” Niall laughs, pulling out his laptop and a pair of reading glasses.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry snaps, furrowing his brow.

“You’re a little obsessed with her, is all. Ever since I got you back to Wynnewood, you’ve gone there hoping you run into her. Why do you think I requested her as our server when we met with Hassan and Jason?”

“I just thought you liked her. She’s a nice girl,” Harry huffs.

“She is a nice girl. If you like her, you should do something about it,” Niall reasons, looking at Harry directly.

“Fine. I took her out yesterday, and we came back here and we fucked.”

Niall’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open at Harry’s confession. He juts his lips out and nods his head as to say, ‘right on’.

“Do you like her?”

“What, Niall? Of course I do. I hope she wants to go out with me again. We’ve already been texting today.”

“Good shit,” Niall seemingly moves on, ready to talk business.

Harry laughs at Niall’s ability to switch gears completely and focus on work. Harry pulls up his slide deck and begins to review his notes from his last meeting.

~

Since her afternoon with Harry, Briar has been on cloud 9. She’s happy she didn’t shy away from Harry’s advances in fear of getting fired.

She woke up early to take Gus on a walk, and to feel out the slight soreness she has between her legs. It stings a bit, but is a nice reminder of Harry. She arrives at Wynnewood at a quarter to 7, ready to conquer the day.

She smiles at Harry’s good morning text, opting to tell him about the gossip she overheard as she passed the tennis courts. The tennis players at the club are way more wild than the golfers.

She heads inside to clock in at the register at the bar, where she finds Cam setting up for the day.

“Hey, B!” she yells.

“Hey, Cam,” Briar smiles, punching in her number. She walks around to lean on the bar.

“Harry and I fucked,” Briar whispers.

Cam’s head whips around, “Holy shit! When? Where?”

“Yesterday, at his place. He picked me up after my shift and we went for a walk at the public garden. Then I told him we should play Scrabble to invite myself over,” she snorts. “He actually got the game out in case I was being serious.”

“Good thing he’s not stupid. Next time you can ‘Netflix and Chill’ him.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to do that,” she giggles. She waves goodbye to Cam before heading back out to load up her cart. She adds another golf pun to her tip jar:

What did the sign above the golf club bar say?

“Don’t drink and drive. Don’t even putt.”

She chuckles to herself, turning on her string lights. She hopes Harry will swing by today. They’ve been texting lightly, but she doesn’t want to come off as clingy. Maybe she’ll call him on her break.

The day goes by as usual, returning to the clubhouse to stock up a few times. When she’s ready for a snack and some time in the shade, she pulls up to the familiar wooded area on near the 14th hole; her and Harry’s spot.

Briar looks around to make sure no one is nearby. She pulls out her phone and scrolls her contact list to find her fox.

Harry answers on the second ring, “Hi, Birdie, how’s your day? I thought I was supposed to call you?”

“Hi, Harry, it’s good. Well, you should assume by now that I’m not the type of girl to wait by the phone,” she teases.

“Silly me, I should have known. My day’s been good; reviewing a few possible investments and lots of emails. Niall just left my place, actually. Since we don’t have an official office anymore, he comes here sometimes.”

Briar hums, smiling to herself. She could listen to him tell stories all day.

“Listen, uh…” he trails off. Is he trying to push her off the phone? He was the one that wanted to follow up with her.

“Niall was kind of grilling me about where I was yesterday. I think he noticed I was a little hard to reach. So, I kind of ‘fessed up. I didn’t share anything in detail. I’m not that kind of guy,” he says, exasperated, not wanting her to think he’s a scumbag.

“Harry, Harry, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I told Cam, so, I think we’re even.”

He lets out a breath, relieved. “Okay, good. Again, sorry it happened like that.”

“It’s all good. What are you doing the rest of the day?” she asks, tapping the steering wheel of her cart.

“Umm, no plans as of yet, but, I’m not against making some — with you, if that wasn’t clear,” he stumbles. She giggles, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I can come over? I can grab us dinner from somewhere, or bring something home from the club. I’ll probably be here later than usual, there’s some charity event that starts soon.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. You can schmooze the chef into cooking up something good, I’m sure.”

“Yes, Chef Lambo! He’s the G.O.A.T,” Briar squeals.

It takes Harry a split second to decipher what she just said. Greatest of All Time. Hm, one of those generational differences. He laughs, “Alright, Birdie, that sounds good. Well, I’ll let you get to it. I hope the golfers are treating you nicely.”

“Thanks, Harry, I’ll talk to you later.”

They hang up, and Briar continues on her route. The butterflies in her stomach stay with her all the way to the clubhouse. When her shift ends, she heads straight for the kitchen to find Lambo.

“Hi, Lambo,” Briar says, knocking on the frame of his open office door. “Have a sec?”

“Hi, Briar Baby! Of course I have a second,” he grins, inviting her in. Lambo is the nicest human she’s ever met. He went to culinary school after growing up homeless. Everything he has is through incredibly hard work. She admires him for that.

“Think you can whip up something good for me and…a friend…to eat tonight?” she doesn’t make eye contact with him when she says ‘friend’.

“Of course, baby. What are you in the mood for? Pasta? Steak? Is it a male ‘friend’?” he says, putting air quotes around friend.

Her cheeks heat up, knowing he’s figured her out. She nods.

“Well, I’ll think of some date night food while you go get changed. Come back in a half an hour and I’ll have it ready.”

“Thanks, Lambo, I owe you one.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She took her time getting ready in the locker room. She changed into a pair of leggings and threw on a Nike pullover. Nice and casual. When Briar returns to the kitchen, she sees her food packed up perfectly, with a note from Lambo:

Steak frites with broccoli rabe and scalloped potatoes. I included a brownie for dessert :-)

Enjoy! Be safe.

-Lambo

She smiles. She’ll bring him an iced coffee the next time they work together. She grabs the bag and exits through the back kitchen door that leads straight to the employee parking lot.

She pulls up to Harry’s house, parks, and retrieves the food from her passenger’s side. As she heads toward the front door, she hears a voice from his neighbor’s side of the fence. She sees a middle-aged woman watering plants on her front porch.

“Leave the food on the porch, hun! Read his sign about deliveries,” she says, rolling her eyes. Briar’s attention moves to the note on the door, scribbled in Harry’s writing.

Please leave all packages on the table to the left. TPWK.

She looks to the left to see a small glass table, with a basket full of snacks and drinks and another note, thanking the drivers. In fear of Harry’s neighbor calling the cops for lingering too long, she grabs a granola bar and books it back to her car. She calls Harry immediately.

“Hi, Birdie, you on your way here?” he asks, sitting on the foot of his bed, putting on a pair of socks.

“Um, I’m here, but there’s a slight issue. I was walking up to the front door, and your neighbor thought I was a delivery driver,” Briar says, mortified. “She told me to just leave the food.”

Harry starts to hysterically laugh, leaning down to pinch the outer parts of his eyes with his thumb and his pointer finger.

“S’not funny! I was scared she was gonna call the cops if I lingered there. I even followed your instructions and left the food on the little table. These Karens are unbelievable these days.”

“Alright, I’ll come down and get you. Be there in one sec,” he says before clicking end.

He exits his house through the garage, opening the door to meet Briar on his driveway. He looks over to Maureen’s yard, finding it empty. Briar hops out of her Jeep and fast walks over to Harry.

“It’s okay, she went back inside,” he says, leaning in for a kiss. She reciprocates, before walking to his front porch to retrieve the food.

“That’ll be $47.91 plus tip,” she says with a straight face, before busting out into her signature giggle.

He shakes his head, following her into the garage before clicking the overhead door closed.

They eat and enjoy each other’s company. When Harry sees she brought home steak frites, he grabs a full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon from his wine cellar to pair it with. The two of them finish the whole bottle, and retire to his sofa for the evening, a little wine drunk and content.

They chat for a bit longer. He shares more information about his family and why he left the UK for college. She listens attentively, asking questions when necessary.

“What about you, Birdie, what was your life like growing up?”

She freezes. If she didn’t have 2 1/2 glasses of wine in her, she’d shut down any mention of her family.

“Um, well, my Uncle Patrick and Aunt Meredith actually raised me. Patrick is my dad’s brother. He passed away when I was young, like 5 or 6. My mom is still around, but she struggled with an addiction problem after he died. She and my dad knew each other since they were 14 years old, so she just couldn’t handle it.”

Harry instinctively offered a comforting touch on her arm. He let her continue.

“So, when she was struggling, my aunt and uncle got custody of me and my brothers; I have 3 older and 1 younger. But my mom is doing better now. She’s about 4 years clean, and actually just got remarried. He’s a nice guy and I think he’s good for her.”

“Did you still see her when you were growing up?”

“Yeah, it’s not like we were kept from her, but she always came to our house. We were never told of the details of where she lived, worked. Everything was kind of surface level.”

He pulls her in for a side hug, “Thanks for sharing that with me. I’m sure it’s not an easy thing for you to talk about.”

They’re quiet for a moment, her head on his shoulder.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Harry offers. He’s noticed Briar’s eyes gently close throughout the night, signaling her exhaustion. Poor thing. Those long hours at the club are probably taxing.

“Yeah,” she replies simply, nuzzling into his side. “You pick.”

“You want something scary? Or something easy to watch?”

“Easy to watch. I don’t like scary stuff, really.”

Harry puts on ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’ before dimming the lights in the room on his phone.

She gasps, smiling bright, “This is one of my favorites!”

He smiles, “Mine, too.”

~

Briar jerks awake, frantically looking around the room to reorient herself. She remembers she’s at Harry’s and they fell asleep watching a movie. The screen is off, but she can still make out Harry’s sleeping frame from the street lamp out front. He looks like a dad asleep in a recliner, arms spread out, head back and mouth wide open, slightly snoring. She smiles at him fondly.

She pats around the sofa for her phone to check the time. 3:23AM. It’d be weird to leave, right? She thinks to herself. Or is it weirder that she stayed? This is only their second official hangout, but she already feels so comfortable with him.

He must sense she’s awake, because his breathing gets more shallow. His eyes peel open and he sits up, clearing his throat as he looks over at her.

“Briar? Are you okay?” he whispers, voice full of sleep and eyes puffy.

“Yeah, go back to sleep. It’s early. I just woke up and forgot where I was for a few minutes.”

“Well, let’s go upstairs. I’ll have to go to the chiropractor if I sleep like this any longer.”

She laughs. She doesn’t feel the age gap between them often, but when he says things like that, she can’t help but recognize it. They climb the stairs, his knees cracking on the way up.

“Are you comfy in those clothes? Or do you want one of my T-shirts?”

She ponders his question, opting for a shirt. He hands her a Def Leppard T-shirt, and she takes off her bralette before sliding it over her head. Harry is already in his bed, tucked under the covers watching her. She slides her leggings down to the floor and then joins him.

Harry surveys her expression, seeing if she’s sleepy, or full of energy. Before he woke up, he was having a wonderful dream that he’s now dealing with the physical ramifications of. Briar stares back at him, wondering if he’s looking for a hook-up, since they kept it pretty innocent last night.

She reaches out to paw at his waist, feeling his rock-hard crotch. She smirks, knowing she’s right. He inhales sharply, moving his hips towards her. Briar moves her hand past his waist band, dancing her fingers down his length.

Harry moans quietly, closing his eyes at her gentle touch. When he opens his eyes, she’s shuffling down the bed, disappearing under the covers. He feels his briefs sliding down his legs, coming to a stop just under his ass.

He rolls so he’s flat on his back, his knees slightly bent. Harry hears Briar gather spit in her mouth before gently wetting his cock with it. She starts by firmly grasping him at the base, before licking a stripe towards the top. This time, her free hand comes up to fondle his balls.

Harry’s eyes roll back in his head, before releasing a guttural moan. Briar smirks and repeats the movement, before lowering her head to stick them in her mouth one at a time. She pops off each one of them like a cherry, before returning to his cock. She sticks her thumb at his slit, rubbing the pre cum around gently. She envelopes him in her mouth, moaning at the fullness. She bobs her head up and down for a few minutes, before she feels his hand slam down on the bed, begging for mercy.

“Oh my goddd,” he slurs.

Harry runs his fingers through Briar’s soft hair, trying to hold off an orgasm. He can feel his lower region start to bubble, before shooting his cum into her mouth. She moans, collecting the sperm, before sliding her mouth off his cock and giving his tip one last kiss. She swallows, licking her lips while she stares up at him.

He’s bewildered. Perplexed. In awe. His head drops back down on his pillow, waiting for her to join him at his side. Her head pops back out from under the covers, smiling at him. He gives her a peck on her lips.

She rolls on her side and places her hand under her cheek, closing her eyes, “Night, Harry.”

“Huh? Let me get you back!” he pleads, still in shock.

“Nah, it’s good. I’m tired. Are you swinging by the course today?”

He rolls over to look at his phone. 4:39 AM. “I wasn’t going to, but that performance incentivized me,” he smiles, shuffling to make room for her.

She giggles, scooting over to lay her head on his chest.

~

Briar and her spry energy at 7AM makes Harry envious. He slept on the sofa for only a few hours and feels like he got hit by a bus. Oh to be in your 20s.

She’s rustling around in his ensuite, opening each drawer and closing them softly.

“Extra toothbrushes are in the bottom drawer,” He rasps out, trying to block the light from his eyes.

“Got it, thanks!”

She brushes her teeth, checking herself in the mirror. She pads back out to his bed, now occupied by Harry in the starfish position. She leans over him, pushing his hair out from his face.

“I’ll see you later?” she asks, sweetly.

“I think I’ll make an afternoon appearance. Gotta recover a bit. Drink some electrolytes.”

Briar rolls her eyes heading for the stairs, “Alright, I didn’t keep you out at an all-night rave. Bye, Harry.”

“Bye-bye, Birdie!” He shouts. “I’ve been waiting to say that one!”

Briar groans dramatically from the entryway, before closing the front door gently. He can get used to these kinds of mornings.

Since he’s up, he uses this time to head down to his home gym. He hops on his Peloton treadmill for a quick run, opting to listen to his playlist instead of the instructor’s. He sets a personal record, throwing a fist in the air when he earns his badge. His day is off to a great start, he thinks.

The morning goes by quick, and before he knows it, Harry’s getting dressed to head over to Wynnewood. He grabs green juice, one for Briar, and one for himself, from the organic grocery store down the street. He pulls up to the valet stand, tossing his keys to the boys.

Harry sets off toward the locker room to retrieve his clubs. He upgraded his locker to be able to keep his clubs there, instead of lugging them back and forth each time.

He arrives at the 5th hole for his designated tee time. The group ahead of him is playing at a less than ideal pace, so he grabs his phone to turn on a podcast. Instead of his usual finance show, he plays an episode of ‘Girls Gotta Eat’, per Briar’s recommendation.

He is a bit shocked by the raunchiness, but continues through the episode. He shakes his head, knowing that that show fits his girl’s personality perfectly. His girl. He likes that.

He hasn’t seen Briar anywhere. By the time he makes it to the 14th hole, he can see her cart parked in the wooded area — their spot.

Harry sinks the putt at 1 under — a birdie, of course, and then heads over to her. He hears her clapping and cheering for him. He places his clubs down a few yards away and saunters over.  

When he approaches, she’s beaming.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Birdie. Were you waiting for me here?”

“Maybe. I saw your tee time on the list.”

He smiles, sitting down next to her on her cart’s bench. The course is relatively empty, so they don’t feel the need to hide.

They embrace in a passionate kiss, getting a little sloppy after a while. He pulls away, and Harry begins to stare straight ahead. Unsure, she follows his gaze, but sees no one.

She can feel his hand snake under her skirt, eliciting a gasp.

“Harry! Here?”

“Why not? No one’s around. We’ll be quick.”

He’s thankful she’s not wearing one of those skort things. The built-in pants confuse him and make things difficult.

His fingers dance at the crotch of her thin panties. He glides his middle finger up her slit, gathering the bit of wetness. He inserts his middle finger. He has yet to look at Briar, but he’s sure the look on her face is one of bliss, broken whimpers escaping her throat.

“Be a good girl and keep it down. Wouldn’t want to cause a disturbance,” he murmurs in her ear. They’ve only hooked up twice, but he feels like he can start to explore his more dominate side with her.

Briar whines, wiggling away from him. Harry doesn’t like that.

“Move again and I stop.”

“Okay,” she says quietly, wanting to cum already. She hasn’t even looked up to see if anyone is near them. At this point, she doesn’t even care.

He thrusts three fingers in and out of her center vigorously, but discreetly. His thumb moves backward to pet at her clit, increasing the pressure in her pelvis. After a few moments, she’s clenching so hard around his fingers. She comes just seconds later, releasing the sweetest whine, shoving her face into his shoulder.

Harry removes his fingers, straightening out her skirt, before lifting his fingers to his mouth, licking his index, before sliding it out and extending his other fingers out to her.

“Suck.”

She welcomes his fingers in her mouth, tongue swirling around them. She closes her eyes at how erotic this is, his dominance making her hornier.

He pulls his hand back, reaching for one of the wipes she keeps in the cart, acting as if nothing happened. She can see his bulge in his pants, so she reaches over to try and alleviate it.

“Ah, ah. No, Birdie. Settle down. You’re not allowed to touch unless I say.”

She whines at his dismissal, but she realizes he’s playing the role of the dominant. They haven’t had an explicit conversation about their likes and dislikes in bed, but this is a big fat LIKE on her part. Her experience with dominant and submissive roles is limited, having only been spanked by her ex-boyfriend in college. She’s a quick learner and will basically do anything Harry tells her to.

Harry cleans up and rises from the cart, casually looking around. The course is still empty.

“Well, I better get going. Be a good girl for me, Birdie. I’ll see you later,” he says, kissing her on her neck.

He walks off, leaving Briar speechless, as usual.

~

Harry finishes his round, shooting well under par. This is a great fucking day, he thinks, smiling to himself as he heads to the locker room.

He sees Briar’s uncle, Patrick exiting one of the conference rooms near the locker room.

They make eye contact, and Harry smiles, about to open his mouth to greet him. Out of no where, Patrick pins Harry up against the wall, his forearm crushing his windpipe.

“Woah, Patrick, what’s going on?” Harry panics, choking slightly.

“What’re you doing sniffing around my niece?” Patrick seethes, his face getting red.

Harry falters, unable to form a coherent sentence. “I—what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw her get out of your car the other night, right out front,” he whisper-shouts, not wanting to draw any attention to their altercation.

Harry is caught red handed.

“Buddy, I—,” Harry starts, before Patrick interrupts.

“Don’t ‘buddy’ me, we’re not friends. That girl is my entire life, and I’ll be damned if a rich prick like you takes advantage of her. Especially one twice her age! I knew giving her this job was a bad idea. It’s why I didn’t let her work here as a teenager.”

Since Briar filled him in on the details of her upbringing, he understands Patrick’s defensiveness. Their bond is close, as he had to step up as her father figure for most of her life. Patrick eases up the pressure he’s holding on Harry’s neck.

“Sir, I completely understand. But, I can assure you, this isn’t some fling. I’m quite fond of Briar. We shouldn’t have risked being seen here. I would hate for it to affect her job. But, I promise, there are real feelings here — for both of us,” Harry explains, his eyes a little wide out of fear of Patrick’s next move.

Patrick eases off of him, looking around to make sure no other members saw them.

“Fine, but I swear to God, if you hurt her, you’re done for. Do you hear me?” Patrick threatens, staring straight into Harry’s soul.

“Understood.”

Harry retreats to the locker room, exhaling. He has an uneasiness in his stomach. He changes in record time, and books it towards his car. He shoots Briar a text:

🦊: Call me when you’re done your shift.

🐥: I will 🤠

He sits for a while, answering emails while he waits for her call.

He feels it buzzing, letting him know he has an incoming call from ‘🐥’.

“Hi! Are you still here?” she says, right as he picks up.

“Um, yeah, I’m still here. I’ve been sitting in my car,” he says, scratching the back of his head.

“Huh? Why?” she asks, unsure of what his answer will be.

“Why don’t you come here and meet me. We’ll sit for a bit,” he says, trying to remain ambiguous.

“Ummm, okay, I’ll be right there.”

They end the call, and Briar appears at the passenger’s side a few minutes later. She hops in, giving him a peck.

“What’re you doing?” she asks.

“We have a bit of a situation,” Harry says gently, turning to face her in the passenger’s seat.

A puzzled look crosses her face, “What kind of situation?”

“Patrick saw you get out of my car when I drove you back here the other night. So, he just cornered me in the hallway by the locker room and gave me an earful.”

Briar doesn’t even process Harry’s words before she’s furiously opening the door and storming towards the pro shop. Harry swallows thickly, panic bubbling in his throat.

He quickly follows her in, knowing he looks like such a pussy for telling on Patrick.

Patrick is helping a customer when Briar powerfully pushes the door open, causing everyone in there to look at her.

“UNCLE PATRICK,” she screeches.

Patrick’s eyes go wide, seeing his niece, red in the face, and the guy he threatened to kill just an hour ago right behind her.

“Folks, if we could just have a few minutes… Come back later and I can help you all out…” He says to the people in the pro shop.

They clear out quickly. Patrick leans back against the counter, presumably giving Briar the floor to speak. He’s learned over the years to let her get her point across before responding.

“Harry told me you threatened him, is that true? I’m 23 years old for god’s sake. Who I spend my time with has nothing to do with you. And what are you doing even threatening someone with physical violence at your work? Are you crazy?” Briar rattles off point after point, and Patrick just takes it.

“Good now?” Patrick says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Briar bear — Listen, I know I don’t have a right to say anything, but when something like this is happening under my nose, I have to speak up. I just worry about you, kid. I always will. I just want to do right by your dad. Yes, you’re a grown woman now, but he would roll over in his grave if I let this go without saying a word.”

“I think I got my point across,” Patrick says, staring directly at Harry. “Didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Harry says, moving closer. “Which is why you can kick me out of Wynnewood if I ever disrespect Briar. I’m very serious about my feelings for her, Patrick.”

Briar smiles softly. She’s calmer having Harry with her for this conversation. “Uncle Pat, please don’t tell anyone about Harry and me. We’re still going to follow the rules and not be overly friendly on the property,” Briar says, already lying. She and Harry were plenty friendly in the woods on the 14th hole.

Patrick ponders, before agreeing. He pulls her in for a hug, resting his chin on her head. He glares at Harry over her head, to which Harry cowers away a bit. He still won’t fuck with Patrick, even though he has no plans of letting Briar go.  

The pair leave the pro shop, a few minutes after the other, as to not drum up suspicion. They climb back into his car, staring straight ahead in silence for a minute. Harry links their pinkies together.

“I like you all spicy like that,” Harry teases. “Like a little chihuahua. And Briar bear is so cute! Might even be cuter than Birdie.”

“Shut up.”

———————————————————————————

Tag list:

@awesomenavy @butdaddyilovehim-hs

Lmk if you want to be added!

[prettyboykatsuki]

does maki like to be called d*ddy

yes

[onsunnyside]

Happy New Year Sonny 💜 Hope you have had an amazing NYE 😊

Speaking of Ari's balls, I just had this thot of Ari making you do a countdown with his big fat cock in his mouth 😂 Imagine all that sloppyness and the ball worship 🤤🤤🤤🤤

happy new year bestie and thank you so much !! hope you had loads of fun and made lovely memories 🥰🫶

oh let’s make it a lil spicy: dad’s best friend!Ari has been looking at you all night, flouncing around the house in your new year dress, passing drinks, food and being the perfect little co-host.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he grabs your arm when you pass by, his fingers cold from the bottle of beer, “your dad said he had something for me in his office?”

“Uh—oh, yeah! Something about old pictures from college? When you two played rugby?”

He smiles, gently entwining your fingers, “that’s it, you wanna bring me there before the countdown?”

And ofc you do. You lead him through the house, unknowingly swaying your hips. You talk to him in your pretty voice about how happy you are to be on break from university and Ari is so so so proud of you!

In your dad’s office, you bend over the stack of boxes to sift through the old photographs, “do you know the year of the pictures? My daddy organizes it by year.”

He takes a slow sip of his beer and locks the door. The floorboards creak as he sits in the big leather chair. “Before that, your dad tells me you’ve got a boyfriend?”

You turn around and gulp, eyes drawn to his thick thighs straining against his jeans. “He did?”

“Mhm, he’s upset that you’re growing up, he thinks you’ll get engaged this upcoming year.”

You huff, slightly embarrassed, “he’s over-exaggerating. Steve is too busy with his football career to propose but he’s—he’s a good guy, I promise!”

Ari bets he is. “You like guys who play sports?” He asks, leaning back and spreading his legs.

“Y-Yeah?”

He chuckles softly, “Bet you like being thrown around, bent and used like a doll… and you love ‘em bigger than you.” He runs a hand through his hair, “tell me, does this Steve guy know where to touch you, baby?”

Oh he does, but you can’t answer bc Ari is groping himself over his jeans, groaning under his breath. “C’mere, sweet girl, daddy needs your help.”

downstairs everyone is counting down and celebrating and cheering for the new year, but you’re on your knees in your father’s office, sucking Ari’s fat sack, and crying when he slaps his thick length on your wet cheeks.

“Does your boyfriend know you’re a sackslut?” He laughs mockingly at your muffled yes. “Oh he does? Do you suck his balls like this, baby? Choke yourself on his sack like a dummy?”

“Mhm, da-ddy.” You bubbler, saliva dribbles from your lips as you kiss up the girth, licking the beads of pre cum from the tip. “Luh it.”

Your makeup is smeared under your eyes and your lipgloss is ruined, but you’ve never looked better.

Ari rubs your head, guiding you down his cock, “if I would’ve known that, you and I could’ve done this a while ago—” his words break off into a grunt as you suckle the head, tracing the slit with your tongue, “we’ve got a lot to make up for, sweet girl, and I don’t fuckin’ care if your boyfriend finds out.”

[toomuchracket]

Have you seen that one video of the end of sex where matty looks like he j*zzed his pants? (Awful sentence to have to type but for some reason tumblr wont let me link things off anon)

I’m not too sure about the d word timeline BUT since that was during atvb imagine already being together when it happened and watching it offstage (or maybe bustling around backstage doing odd tasks for the crew & on a whim checking twt and seeing someone in the crowd had already posted it IDK NOT IMPORTANT).

Anywayyy he comes offstage and it’s all you can do not to pounce immediately 😭 sneaking off into some supply closet to give him the sloppiest most soul sucking bj ever while he tugs ur hair and tells you how well you’re doing for d*ddy…. Giving him exactly .5 seconds to recover after he finishes before dragging him off to your hotel room to actually fuck………. I am so sorry but i cannot be normal about this !!

i wrote a tiny fluffy version of this here!! and yes i am absolutely familiar with said video. but frankly i think every time he plays that song you would go nuts with lust lmao - especially if it's the first show you've managed to attend of tour because of work commitments back in london. like it's been a busy day - your flight only got in that morning and you're still technically working, and matty's been prepping for the show/doing promo - so you haven't had much time to yourselves; you had a quick dinner date and catchup together, but there was no time for more passionate affection than a little makeout session just before matty went onstage (and a tiny kiss after his quick change after consumption). and yeah, you want him enough as it is, and then you see him with that bastard red guitar and you're DESPERATE. you know there's nobody at the show that needs to be met and chatted to backstage afterwards, it's a "rest for a minute, get changed, go back to the hotel" type situation, so when matty comes offstage all undressed and sweating and exhilarated and just so so sexy and pulls you into a hug, you whisper in his ear like "i love you, i'm proud of you, and i really really need you right now". and matty pulls back to hold your face in his hands and look at you, rubbing his thumb across your lips; he sees how desperate you are for him and he's like "yeah? you need daddy to make you feel good, princess? got you all worked up tonight, it seems", and you drag him off to a random lockable cupboard you found earlier, getting on your knees and saying "need to make you feel good first, s'all i can think about", and matty's like "fuck go ahead babe". and you don't need to be told twice - the two (or so) months of not seeing your man AND the way he looked onstage tonight have turned you a bit feral, so you suck his dick like your life depends on it, savouring every hair tug and guttural moan and whine of your name and hiss of "fuck, that feels good. so fucking good for me, princess, so good for daddy" that leaves matty's lips. he finishes so quickly that he'd probably be embarrassed if he wasn't focusing so much on stopping his knees from fully giving out, while you sit back on yours and watch in satisfaction, licking the last little bit of his cum from your lip. matty pulls you to stand after a minute or so, kissing you languidly before saying "that was definitively the best blowjob i have ever had. you're insane. i love you, my girl" - there's another kiss, before you pull back and smile at him like "i love you too. and that was only the beginning. let's go home so i can ride you on the stairs in our hallway", and matty's like "holy fucking christ OKAY". and you do! lmao <3