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#Manhattan Step By Step
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Streets of El Barrio: Madison Ave between East 109th Street and East 110th Street in Spanish Harlem, upper Manhattan
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scopophilic1997 · 1 month
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scopOphilic_micromessaging_887 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally.
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wanderingnewyork · 19 days
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The #West_214th_Street_Stepstreet in #Inwood, #Manhattan.
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matthewgallaway · 2 months
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Manhattan skyline, January 17th, 2024. Like many New Yorkers I have many complaints about the city but sometimes it’s very beautiful.
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surr0unds · 8 months
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manhattan (lomochrome metropolis)
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schmeatdavidson · 2 months
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okayyy two weeks off work. this is the time that I figure out wtf to do for fun in new york THIS I SWEAR. nyc knowers in the chat please advise
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thingsdavidlikes · 1 year
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by wilkes.snaps https://flic.kr/p/2oiahyb
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glompcat · 11 months
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Note to self: maybe DON'T take a 7 mile walk in the afternoon when you know you have a boxing class in the evening.
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wickedhawtwexler · 2 years
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guyssss at this time tomorrow i'm gonna be in a hotel in nyc. how wild is that. it's the city that never sleeps but i definitely will be because i'm gonna need all my energy for the next day, when i get the soul squeezed out of my body by the nyc housing market 🫡
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manhattanstepbystep · 11 months
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Streets of El Barrio: East 108th Street between First Ave and Second Ave in Spanish Harlem, upper Manhattan
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angrythingstarlight · 3 months
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Bucky’s accountant: “sir you’re spending a lot of money on mrs and miss barnes-“
Bucky: * glare* “are you saying they don’t deserve it?”
Bucky’s accountant: “n-never mind”
Bucky enjoys it when you spend his spend money. He's made it abundantly clear that he wants you to have a soft, luxurious life. He doesn't want you to have to worry about finances. He takes care of everything. That includes you. All you have to do is let him.
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Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader
CW: Little bit o' fluff, Little bit o' smut.
A/N: Unbeta'd drabble for the Bumblebee series.
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Your name is on all the accounts, the deeds, his businesses (the legitimate ones anyway) and of course, it’s embossed on his black card. He loved giving you that. And he laughed when you asked about a limit. There isn’t one. He told you to get whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.
Bucky knew from the jump that you were going to have reservations. He’s been working you through them.
So you can imagine how he felt the day his accountant knocked on his office door to inform him of a suspicious charge.
Bucky sits in his chair, staring impassively at Gregory as he lists off the recent expenses he discovered while reconciling Bucky’s accounts this morning. “...and there’s a charge for almost ten thousand at a supply shop. Some art place in Manhattan. And there’s another one at a bookstore for nearly a grand. I can have these reported—”
Bucky runs a hand down his face, revealing the beginning of a grin. The rare sight of the mobster smiling throws Gregory off kilter, causing him to trail off in disbelief.
10k on your hobbies? That’s his girl.
“I approve. In fact, I approve of everything she buys.”
“Sir. I must say that this seems excessive.”
“It’s not.” That smile is gone as quickly as it appears, and Gregory shrinks back in his chair. “I told her to spend at least ten times that this month. All her purchases are approved. No matter what she buys. My wife gets whatever she wants. Do you understand?”
His voice leaves a chill in the air and this time, when he smiles, it sends a slither of fear up the portly man’s spine.
“Yes, yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He’s dismissed without a word, leaving Bucky to contemplate all the ways he’s going to reward you tonight.
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You crouch down, taking the small shopping bag off her shoulder and setting it next to the pile by the sofa. Straightening her light pink sleeve, you dust off the front of her dress. "Remember what we practiced."
Bee nods seriously. “I remembers Mommy.”
“When Papa asks what we bought today—”
“I say it’s our secrets,” she eagerly interrupts with a grin. “And then I run real fast.”
Bucky knocks on the open door. Once. Twice. “How’s my girls?”
“Hi, Papa!”
You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, hand in his pocket, and a curious glint in his eyes. “Hello sweet Bee. You have fun today? What’d you get me?”
She opens her mouth before shutting it when you poke her in the belly. “Our secrets.”
“Our secrets Papa.” She repeats, shrugging both shoulders. “Can’t tells you.”
“Aw, but I don’t have any.”
You know that tone even if your innocent, adorable baby doesn’t. Bee’s eyes soften and you can see her starting to cave. You have to intervene now before she tells him ‘jus’ one cause he needs it’.
A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as you defiantly gaze into the stormy depths of his piercing blue eyes.
“Don’t fall that Bumblebee. He already knows too many. Remember? You’re going to run over to your office so he doesn’t get anymore of our secrets and you’ll get two cupcakes after dinner. Ready?”
Bee takes a deep breath, gauging the distance between her and Bucky. “Weady.”
“Go!” you encourage, her giggles filling the room as she takes off. “Run Bee!”
Bucky shifts, stepping into the middle of the doorway, his six-foot-something frame filling the space. Pride blooms in his chest when she fearlessly keeps running towards him, skirting around his long legs with a mumbled ‘scuse me Papa."
You smother a laugh when she lets out a spirited cheer over making it out the room. The joy coursing through you fades to a thready hum of anticipation.
She may have made her getaway but you're very much trapped.
He waits until her giggles fade down the hallway and the sounds of Bluey filter out of her office. Then he turns all his attention to you.
“How much did you spend?” Bucky leans back against the doorframe, his eyes darkening as they skate over the bags to your pretty face.
“Enough.”
“I doubt it,” he hums under his breath. He holds up two long fingers, beckoning you closer. The seemingly innocent gesture is down right obscene because you have first-hand knowledge what those fingers are capable of. “Now it’s your turn. Let’s see if you can get past me.”
You don’t.
He lets you take about three steps before he grabs you. Kicks the door shut. Bends you over the side of the couch, knees sinking into cushions, your head hovering over the edge, near the bags you refuse to let him open. Takes you apart with his finger and tongue before splitting you open on his cock.
Praises you sweetly for spending his money while fucking you like he was punishing you for not spending more.
Which you both know he is.
He makes you work for it, makes you promise to treat yourself as good as he treats you, leaves you so desperate and on edge that you agree to everything that comes out of his mouth.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
All those little pleas drive his hips faster and deeper until they meld into an incomprehensible keen.
By the time you get there, that peak is so sharp and blinding it nearly hurts, leaving you drowning in a sea of overwhelming pleasure, your eyes rolling back, vision blurring as his hips grind into you, his thumb rubbing a perfect, rough circle around your clit.
He can’t think of a more beautiful sound than the low, frantic sob tearing from your lips.
Bucky is almost satisfied. Almost. Still, he doesn’t quite believe you. He thinks you’re going to need a little more convincing.
It’s going to take a few more rigorous sessions to make you come around. See things from his perspective. Understand that while you might be able to take him, he’ll always come out on top. That he’ll ride you over and over until you relent and let him give you what you deserve.
And he’s more than willing to do whatever it takes to get you to spend more.
Bucky places a soft kiss on your tear-streaked face, his soft lips move to your ear while his hips start moving again.
“We’re just getting started, Malyshka.”
And I—
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strawbeerossi · 5 months
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Taking Calls
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Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Description: Whenever a man who makes you feel uncomfortable asks for your number, you give him your boyfriend’s number instead. Whenever he texts him all day and finally decides to call, Spencer plans on taking care of it.
Content/Warnings: Minor case details (nothing explicit), creep officer, loving boyfriend Spencer, intimidation mention, kissing, unprotected sex, Spencer answers a phone call in the middle of sex (I didn’t know how to word that so it works lmao.)
Word Count: 1.2K
Anon Request: I had a spicy idea where a creepy cop tries to get readers number for “work purposes” and instead she gives him Spencer’s number and the cop happens to call Spencer and reader while he’s in the middle of fucking reader or the reader is in the middle of giving him a blowjob and the cop sort of hears her in the background? I just thought you’d be the perfect person to write this 😍
Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request
🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie @lov1ngreid @sobbingcryingattsizzles @doriantomybasil @thegluesong @rosiehale23
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Spencer had his number given out before due to a prank on Derek’s end that had so many people blowing up his phone. It was something he vowed that he would get the man back for and specifically state that it could never happen again.
The team was on a case in Manhattan, a standard killer who had an awakened blood lust was terrorizing the city. After six victims, the NYPD felt it was best to invite the BAU onto the case, which seemed to be too little too late due to the man going dormant.
Every lead was buried so deep that you’d need an excavator to dig them up, still the team persisted. You were currently on day three, staying back at the police precinct along with Dave to interview the families of the deceased, hoping to dig up any leads.
You had currently stepped out for a brief break, standing by the coffee machine as you were getting one of the disposable cups, filling it to the brim with a healthy mixture of coffee and sugar. “Hey, Y/L/N, correct?” A voice came from behind you, making you turn to look over the person addressing you. Officer Laslow. “Hi, yes. That’s me. How can I help you?” You asked, eyebrows raising.
You didn’t like to judge people, however you had a very uneasy feeling around him. The way he was looking at you was a good enough reason to be uncomfortable, the man seeming to mentally undress you as he stared into your soul. “I was just wondering if your team had any leads? I mean, I’m sure the families know something,” He spoke, making you sigh as your shoulders slumped. “Nothing, unfortunately.” You spoke while sipping from the coffee cup in your hands.
“Nothing? What a shame. I was actually wondering if you and I could exchange numbers? No funny business, I’m just wanting to make sure we can stay in communication throughout this case. You know, share intel.”
He could’ve just asked Aaron for updates. However, in the moment of being uncomfortable and not knowing what to say, you were clearing your throat. “Well. Okay.. Just for intel though.” You murmured, slowly taking the device from his hands to put in Spencer’s number instead of your own. You’d explain things to your boyfriend later. Until then, you were doing the next best option. Spencer could handle this. You were sure of it.
As another day passed and there was no leads, the team was retreating to the hotel for the night to try and get some rest, even if they were overly focused on trying to catch the murderer running around freely. “Honey, I have a question.” Spencer began as he was walking from the bathroom, a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a white t-shirt clinging to his lanky frame. “I’ve just had a lot of texts today. The person is addressing you by name. Wanna talk about who you gave my number to?” He asked softly. He knew it had to be a big deal if you wouldn’t give someone your number.
“Some creep on the NYPD team. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me, Spencer. It made me so uncomfortable.” You shivered while looking over at your boyfriend. “I’m sorry that I gave him your number. I didn’t know what else to do.” The feeling of his hand rubbing your shoulder caused your body to relax, a soft sigh leaving his lips.
“I’m not upset with you by any means. I just wanted to ask. He didn’t try and touch you or force himself on you, right?” He asked, slowly letting his arm wrap around your shoulders as you shook your head. “No. Nothing like that. He was just twice my size and intimidating. I mean, he could’ve hurt me if I rejected him.” In this job, Spencer saw cases like that far too much, so he believed it.
“Come here.” He spoke while slowly pressing a few kisses against your cheek. “It’ll be okay. I’ll speak with Hotch about it tomorrow. It’ll get taken care of.” He smiled, the back of his knuckle gently caressing your cheek. “How did I get so lucky to be with you?” You asked softly, offering a smile as you leaned against his touch. “I’m the lucky one.” He mused, now moving to press a sweet kiss against your lips.
However, the kiss was only cut short whenever he could hear the ringtone on his phone designated for texts. “This guy is a real piece of work.” Your boyfriend muttered against your lips, opting to ignore the incessant sounds coming from his phone as he carried on your shared kiss. As the kids deepened, his hands were working to push your shirt over your head before his hands were working on your work pants. You hadn’t changed just yet, so he felt like he was definitely helping you out in the grand scheme of things.
Once you were undressed to his liking, it wasn’t long until your own hands were pushing at his clothes to bring him to the same level of unclothed as you were. “Lay down.” Spencer breathed as he broke the kiss, watching you push yourself back in bed before he was crawling on top of you to attach your lips once more. You were both eager, a lot of stress from this case as well as your own yearning for pleasure making things go just a little faster than usual. He used one hand to bring one of your legs around his waist, which prompted you to mirror your actions with your other leg.
Pushing your panties to the side, your boyfriend wasted no time pushing his cock inside of your eager cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as the hand propping him up was gripping the sheets. “Fuck. I love you.” He whispered, pressing a few sweet kisses to your lips. For once today, you felt like you could forget the officer from earlier, to enjoy the moment. Until Spencer was getting a call. “Are you kidding?” He huffed out of frustration, hips still thrusting at a slow pace as he was reaching over to take his cellphone from the bedside table.
“W-we should stop.” You breathed, knowing he had to take the call judging by the look on his face. “No. No, just lay there and take it, pretty girl. I’m gonna settle this once and for all.” He murmured. Before you could object, he was swiping to answer the call. “I don’t appreciate being ignored.” The male on the other end of the phone huffed. Just hearing his slimy voice had Spencer cringing. Using his shoulder to hold the phone up to his ear, he let out a soft breath. His hips thrusted into you at a faster speed, your lip tucked between your teeth as you really did try to keep quiet.
“She’s busy but I can take a message.” Spencer answered as if he wasn’t jackhammering you into the mattress right now, whines and moans slipping from your lips as you couldn’t hold them back anymore. “Who is this?” The officer asked, now his annoyance being clear as day. “Spencer!” You gasped out, answering his question without even being aware of it.
“You heard her. Tell the nice man on the phone who has the pleasure of fucking you.” Spencer grunted, making you red in the face as you gripped his upper arms. “You!”
“My name, baby. Tell him who gets to take you home every night.”
“Spencer!” You panted, head tossed back as he was pounding into your sweet spot.
“Now. If you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to. I hope you get the hint.” He murmured.
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downbadf0rficppl · 2 months
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someone's there
Bucky x F!Reader
Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack
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You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.
You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.
Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.
And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.
The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.
You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.
She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"
Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.
Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.
You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.
Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.
The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.
The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.
Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.
The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.
You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.
The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.
"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.
The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.
"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.
You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.
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By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.
You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.
But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.
To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.
You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.
You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.
As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.
Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.
He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.
You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.
You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.
He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.
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You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.
It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.
The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.
You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.
You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.
"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.
"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.
"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.
"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."
"The pizza place?"
"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."
You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.
"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.
"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.
"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."
"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.
The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.
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"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."
June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.
Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.
Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.
You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.
Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.
A teenager was on the phone with the police.
You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.
The door swung open, letting in a draft.
Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.
Sirens.
"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.
A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.
"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.
You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.
"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.
"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.
You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.
You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.
"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"
He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."
You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.
"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.
"Take me home, Buck."
fin.
buy me a coffee
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cupid-styles · 4 months
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only angel 2 (tattoorry/plugrry)
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part two of tattorry is here!!!!! read part one here
in which y/n's parents still suck, harry can't stop thinking about his girl, and maybe there's a chance this'll all work out
word count: 8.5k
content warnings: angst (all solved in the end!), minor mentions of dieting/controlled eating, y/n has really awful parents (spoiler: there is one scene where her mom slaps her), weed mentions, a terrible date (one minor but inappropriate scene with unwanted non-sexual touching), smut (fingering, f receiving oral, dirty talk, spitting, tiniest bit of daddy kink)
masterlist | talk to me
. . .
As soon as Y/N's mother zeroes in on Harry's grasp around her daughter's waist, everything moves at a blurry pace. 
In an instant, her hand is curled around Y/N's wrist, yanking her away from one of the only sources of comfort she's ever had. She gasps when she pulls her through the door and outside the bookstore, bile rising in her throat as her brain slowly pieces things together. She got caught. Applying to a job. With Harry holding her hand.
She's never going to be able to see him again.
Harry's quick to follow them outside, his mind whirring just as quickly.
"Excuse me!" he calls out as Y/N's mom drops her grasp from her, a stern expression on her face. She doesn't even look in Harry's direction but Y/N immediately blinks at him, her eyes wide with fear. "Excuse me, are you Y/N's mom?"
"Who the hell are you?" she hisses, instantly batting him away the second he takes a step forward. Y/N's chest feels tight as she clamors for words, panic rising in her throat.
"My name is Harry. I know your daughter—"
"Like hell you do." she spits, her eyes squinted and beady as she looks over Harry's appearance. It's clear on Y/N's face that she's never been this mortified before, but she can only hope it's because she got caught, not because she got caught with Harry. "I don't know what nonsense you've gotten yourself into, Y/N, but consider it done. We're going home."
The words are on the tip of Y/N's tongue — no, stop, please, I care about him, you don't understand — but the fear of her mother is too paralyzing. Again, her manicured fingers wrap tightly around Y/N's wrist and she pulls at her, making her stumble. 
"Wait— Y/N, you can't seriously—"
"Enough," her mom sneers, tightening her grip, "What do you want? Money? Is that what you're after?"
"What?! No, I told you, I know Y/N—"
"Do you go to school with her? She knows better than to socialize with tattooed lowlives."
His jaw drops and his eyes dart back and forth from Y/N to her mother. Tears line her waterline and she sniffles, looking helpless and desperate — and Harry knows, he can see it right in front of his face how awful her parents are, that they're blatantly abusive and terrible people just because they have money, but for the first time, he actually feels anger bubble up in his throat. Not at her mom, but at Y/N.
"No, I don't go to school with her. Y/N, are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?" he asks, an unusually harsh edge sharpening his voice. 
Since this entire thing began, there's space for Y/N to speak — to potentially defend herself, defend Harry, or to do what she's always done and follow her mother's orders. She knows what she wants to do. Harry knows what he wants her to do.
But instead of taking any action, she flounders.
Harry can see it in her eyes — panic ravishing her body as she opens and closes her mouth like a fish. Normally, he'll tease her for that, but this time, he would do anything to hear her say something. Anything. 
"Clearly you don't know one another at all. Y/N, we're going home. Now."
With a final yank, Y/N falls pliant in her mother's wishes, following her down the street to wherever her car is parked. Harry watches them walk away, sure that she'll turn around and come running back to him.
It's only when their forms become mixed in with the rest of the busy Manhattan sidewalk, little blobs he can barely make out, that he realizes she's not. 
. . .
Y/N doesn't think she's ever felt so shitty in her life.
Her parents have disciplined her in the past for much smaller things — taking her car to campus, missing one of the dates they set up for her. Punishment always came in the form of the silent treatment paired with the confiscation of her car keys and the understanding that she was forbidden to leave the apartment. 
This time is so much worse. 
The second her mother unlocks her car and Y/N climbs in, she's on the receiving end of a piercing slap. She immediately winces and reaches up to cup her stinging cheek, tears streaming down her face from the image of Harry's hurt expression permanently seared into her memory. When she looks at the woman, she's seething.
"You're a disgrace."
Those are the only words she speaks to her the entire drive home.
When they get home, her mother is quick to lay down the ground rules: She's done with graduate school — according to her, they trusted her to know better and solely focus on her education, but they can't rely on her any longer. She'll start working at their company immediately. She'll go out on a date with Arthur Franklin, do what he wants, and marry into their family as soon as humanly possible. And lastly, she's never to be seen with "that boy" or anyone who looks like him ever again.
In two minutes, her life is drawn out for her in the most terrifying way. But she doesn't fight her. She knows it's a losing battle — one that her mother has been winning her entire life. Harry gave her a beautiful experience. He showed her what her life could have been like if she wasn't so scared. 
And when she goes to bed that evening, without dinner of course (her parents gave Freya strict instructions not to make her a portion or allow her to cook anything in the kitchen), she cries for him.
She lets her tears soak into her pillow, dampening the fabric with every sob that breaks free from her chest, and desperately hopes that he doesn't hate her, even if she never sees him again. 
. . .
To: Y/N, 11.19.23, 11:32 a.m.
It's been a few days.. just checking in to make sure you're doing okay.
To: Y/N, 11.20.23, 8:49 a.m.
Please just send me a text so I know you're alright. 
To: Y/N, 11.22.23, 10:28 p.m.
Hey. I'm gonna wait outside your lecture hall tomorrow. I need to know you're okay. Please tell me if you don't want me to come, but I really need to see you. 
To: Y/N, 11.23.23, 4:03 p.m.
Did you skip class today?
To: Y/N, 11.26.23, 1:28 a.m.
If you're avoiding me, that's fine, but this is driving me insane... please just give me a sign or something so I know you're okay. Please Y/N. You can't do this.
. . .
"I just think your father is a great businessman! He's one of the smartest men I've ever worked for and I think we could do something incredible together. Don't you think?"
Y/N gulps down another large sip of wine, flashing a tight smile to Arthur. She never drinks, but she decided that if she was getting through the night, alcohol would serve as a much-needed crutch. They're currently at some smarmy restaurant on the Upper East Side — apparently there's a waitlist of three months, but Arthur was able to just "make a call" and get them a reservation. Y/N thinks she was supposed to be impressed by that, but she could really care less.
It's been a week and a half since she saw Harry last. She never knew heartbreak could be so excruciating, but that line of thinking occurred before she met him. 
In the 27 minutes since their date began — yes, Y/N's been counting — Arthur has only talked about her father. How incredible and smart he is, how he runs such a great business, how he can't wait to have a higher position in the company. 
"Did you hear me?" Arthur asks, stuffing another piece of bread in his mouth. 
"Yeah," she says curtly. "Sorry, did you want me to call my father so you could date him instead?"
Arthur forces out an awkward laugh. "You know, your mom said you had an unusual sense of humor... guess that's just part of your charm, huh?"
Y/N shrugs her shoulders as she picks at her pasta. She's looking straight ahead, eyes empty and zoning out when she thinks she sees a familiar head of long, unruly curls. She perks up, straightening her posture, ignoring Arthur when he assumes her change in body language is in response to whatever nonsense he's droning on about. 
She wills the figure to turn around, her heart tugging — but when he does a mere moment later, she realizes it's not him, just someone with a similar haircut. Her shoulders slump, blinking as she watches the man gently guide his date to their table. 
"Are you okay?" 
Snapping out of her thoughts, she redirects her attention to Arthur. She swallows and nods her head. 
"Yeah. Sorry, thought I saw someone I know."
He hums. "Hm, probably not. Like I said, this restaurant a three-month long waitlist. No one you know could be here."
"Right." she mutters. She drops her fork, suddenly feeling sick, and Arthur's eyes snap up at the clattering sound the metal makes against the ceramic plate. 
"Be careful," he hisses, "This is a nice place, Y/N."
The sting to his tone is instantly reminiscent of her own parents' discipline. She cowers, mumbling out a half-hearted apology, and when she looks up to see his squinted eyes analyzing her every feature, anxiety is quick to spread through her chest and up her throat.
She knew it before tonight — that Arthur was essentially just an extension of her parents, but the fear and apprehension of leaving her family was too paralyzing. But in an instant, it clicked. 
Sitting across from her, Arthur just looks so mean. A curl to his lips, an expression of disgust painted across his face as he studies her, his mouth open in preparation to scold her again. 
She can't do this for the rest of her life. 
She refuses to do this for the rest of her life. 
Her heart is beating out of her chest, shaky hands grabbing the napkin folded neatly in her lap. She places it on the table, moving slowly in hopes that he won't notice, even if she knows it's impossible. 
"What are you doing?"  he asks tightly, eyebrows lowering as she stands from the table. 
"I... I have to do something," Y/N mumbles, "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"What?" Arthur snaps, digging into his pocket to grab his wallet, throwing a few hundred dollar bills down on the table as she rushes out of the restaurant. He's quick to follow her, his stride much larger and faster than hers. He reaches out to grab her elbow and pulls her form to press against his body in the entryway. She gasps out in surprise, freezing her movements. 
"Where are you going?" Arthur repeats through gritted teeth. "We're not done. We're on a date, Y/N."
She swallows and shakes her head jerkily, "I have to do something, I'm sorry, please let me go—"
"Your parents made a deal with me." he says, nostrils flaring, "You're done running. You're mine now."
Her stomach drops. A deal? She's not some kind of pawn in their game and she's not an object that can be moved around whenever they want. In an act of anger, she yanks her arm away from his grasp, taking a step back. 
"I'm not yours. I'm not anybody's. Whatever deal you made with my parents is off."
She grabs the door handle and pushes it open, leaving Arthur — and whatever fucked up future they had planned for her — behind. 
. . .
Harry hasn't been sleeping well. 
It's from a combination of factors, but primarily, it's being on the receiving end of Y/N's silent treatment. He didn't think she would ever do this to him, but maybe he was too naive, looking at their relationship through rose-colored lenses and assuming she'd be strong enough to reject her parents in favor of him.
How stupid.
He sighs and glances at the clock on the wall of his office. When he was seeing Y/N, he never stayed at the shop later than 6 or 7, usually because she wanted to get home before her parents started to wonder. These days, he stays behind until midnight, trying to occupy himself with work so he doesn't have to go home and think about her.
And at first, he thinks he's hallucinating. Who would be knocking on the door to the shop at 9:30, especially with the clear and apparent closed sign? But then the fists get louder, and he wonders if it's someone drunk or high, looking to get a tattoo. (That certainly wouldn't be happening.)
Finally, he hears it — the faintest of familiar voices calling out his name, and he realizes he may not be imagining it. 
He forces himself out, taking large footsteps to the front, his heart beating rapidly when he sees the helpless girl pounding on the door. Quickly, he unlocks it through furrowed brows, immediately letting her in when he sees the distress on her face. 
"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, pulling Y/N inside. "What happened?"
Dried tears leave marks down the apples of her cheeks, her mascara clumpy and stained around her eyes. She sniffles and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Y/N, what's going on?" he repeats before locking the door back up. Carefully, he places a hand to the small of her back and guides her to the back, where his office is. He wordlessly encourages her to sit down on the blue velvet couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge and handing it to her. 
"They're awful," she stammers, "My parents... I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Just tell me what happened," Harry murmurs, carefully rubbing the area between her shoulder blades, "Why are you crying? Did they do something? Are you hurt?"
She shrugs, eyes falling to her lap. "Everything's been terrible." she whispers. "They had me go on a date with someone they want me to marry — when I wanted to leave, he told me that my parents made a deal with him. That I'm his now."
"A deal?" Harry repeats, anger quickly bubbling under his skin, "What does that fucking mean?"
"I don't know. I didn't know about it until tonight."
"Did he do anything to you?" he asks, doing a quick once-over of her appearance. She doesn't look hurt, but she does look beautiful. It makes jealousy rise from the pit of his stomach, knowing she got dressed up for somebody else.
"No. He was really mean, but," she sniffles, shrugging again, "I don't know. He grabbed me."
"Where?" Harry growls. "Where did he grab you?"
Her eyes widen, "J-just my arm. When I was trying to leave, he, um, grabbed my elbow and pulled me back against him."
"Let me see."
Y/N wants to tell him that she's fine, immediately trying to downplay the act, but on the cab ride over, she had time to process how gross it made her feel. That he felt it was appropriate to touch her in that way just because she didn't want to be there — so she allows him to cautiously push up the sleeve of her sweater, analyzing the slightly reddened skin where his hand had been. 
"You're not seeing him again," he mutters, carefully putting her arm down. He reaches over into his desk drawer and grabs a small container of Neosporin, dabbing a bit on the mark and rubbing it in with gentle fingertips. "I don't care if your parents want you to marry him. You will not be with someone who hurts you, Y/N."
"I know," she whispers, "I told him that I wasn't his. That whatever deal they had is off."
Harry's eyes widen. "You did?"
"Yes." she nods sullenly, "I realized that... well, I wanted to leave because I wanted to come see you. I don't want them to control me anymore. I want my own life."
"That's... that's huge, Y/N," Harry murmurs, resisting the urge to surge forward and wrap his arms around her, "What are you gonna do?"
She shrugs. "I haven't gotten that far yet, I guess. But the first step was seeing you and apologizing for that day with my mom."
"It hurt," he admits quietly. "Seeing you walk away... but I guess I didn't fully understand just how bad it was."
"I never wanted to walk away. They just scare me so much. She... she slapped me when we got in the car."
"Dovie," Harry breathes out, the pet name slipping from his mouth, "That's unacceptable, you know that, right? They're abusive."
"I do. I know they're bad." she pauses, swallowing harshly. "I don't want to go back there tonight."
Harry shakes his head. "You're never going back there at all." 
. . .
Harry's apartment is cozy. 
Y/N should have assumed as much, being that his mere presence essentially feels like a warm hug. But when he takes her back to his place and he hesitantly locks the door, murmuring out an apology about how messy things are, she can't but smile gently at all the very Harry decor touches: A record player next to a large collection of his favorite albums, framed pictures and polaroids tacked up onto his fridge of his friends, family, and loved ones, and just about ten cozy throw blankets and pillows strewn across his couch. 
He apologizes for how small it is and Y/N scoffs — she couldn't care less about the size of his place, instead being completely enamored by the fact that it's his.
She's analyzing the refrigerator door, eyes glued to a photo strip of him and his sister when she feels a gentle hand at her hip, giving it a squeeze. 
"Do you wanna change, dove?" Harry asks quietly, his breath ghosting over the back of her neck. 
She nods, pinching at the fabric of her dress. Suddenly, her tights feel too restrictive and her feet ache from the heels her mother forced her into hours earlier. 
"I don't have any clothes, though."
He chuckles lightly. "I can give you some, silly." 
"Are you sure?" Y/N asks, turning to look at him. Her lips part nervously when she sees how close he is to her. "You're already doing so much for me tonight."
"What, would you prefer to waltz around naked, then?"
Her signature blush appears in seconds and it makes a lopsided grin appear nearly instantly on Harry's face. He can tell that she's about to whine his name out in her typical chagrined way and he laughs. 
"Kidding, princess," he mumbles, "But I wouldn't mind if you wanted to."
"You're too much." Y/N grumbles, though the small smile on her lips says differently. She couldn't deny how much she missed Harry over the past two weeks — not only the place he holds in her life, but from a physical, intimate standpoint, too.
"C'mon, I'll get you some sweats."
She follows him to his bedroom, her stomach prickling with nerves as he guides her to the bed, instructing her to take a seat. He traipses over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a baggy tee-shirt. It says hot and heavy on the back, and she remembers she blushed just from reading it the first time she saw him wear it.
He gives her a moment of privacy to change, shutting the bedroom door quietly. With a deep breath, she kicks her heels off, peels her tights down her legs, and pulls her dress up and over her body. It's a relief to finally change into cozy clothes that smell like Harry, and she can't believe she's really here — when they were seeing each other before, she'd dreamt of being able to go over to his house and see what it looked like. She was always just too scared that her parents would find her, or even call the cops when she didn't come home early enough.
Now, she still cares, but it feels like Harry's there to protect her — and that makes it seem a little less scary.
There's a knock at the door, pulling her from her thoughts. With her old clothes folded up neatly, she opens it, revealing a sleepy looking Harry. 
"All changed?" 
She nods, opening the door a little wider to reveal her appearance. His jaw drops and a single "fuck" leaves his lips.
Y/N's eyes widen, worried that she's done something wrong. Quickly, he flounders, stammering like she normally does. 
"Are you alright?" she asks, a look of concern covering her face. He nods, swallowing harshly.
"Um. Yeah, sorry." he coughs into his hand, "Fuck, this is embarrassing— you just— um, you look really fucking hot in my clothes."
She raises her eyebrows, glancing down at the outfit. His sweatpants pool at her ankles and the shirt, which is oversized on his torso, goes down to the middle of her thighs. She supposes he may be able to see her breasts through the white fabric of the tee, but otherwise, she doesn't understand why it's such an attractive sight to him.
"Shit, I need to— I'm sorry, Y/N, this definitely isn't what you need tonight—" he's inching backwards and towards the bathroom on the side of the hallway when she sees it — a very large and apparent erection straining through his black jeans. 
"Oh," she mumbles, "Do you...? We can, like, do stuff if you... if you wanted..."
"No!" he groans, turning to face the wall and pressing his forehead against it, "Just— no, dovie, thank you for the offer but I just feel like I'd be taking advantage of you after such a long night, yeah? So lemme just— I'm gonna take care of this in the bathroom and you can get comfy in the bed, okay?"
He's gone in a flash, the bathroom door locked before she even has a chance to reply. She bites her lip, hoping he's not secretly annoyed at her for asking if he wanted to do something sexual. She's too tired to overthink it though, so she turns on her heel, walks back into his room, and climbs under the blankets.
She's nearly asleep when he returns, soft footsteps padding across the length of the wood floors. She hears a quiet whisper of her name and she peeks an eye open to see Harry standing over her. 
"'m gonna sleep outside on the couch, but let me know if you need anything, alright?" 
She swallows, reaching out to grab his hand in a sleepy haze. His eyebrows raise as she bites her lip. "Can you just... stay for a minute? Until I fall back asleep?"
And truly, Harry couldn't deny her even if he wanted to. 
So he nods his head and, to his surprise, she moves over so he has room to crawl in. He does, at first maintaining a sliver of distance between them, until she looks up at him, her hair mussed from laying back against his pillows, an expectant and wide-eyed look on her face.
"Need me to hold you, dovie?"
Y/N nods, immediately clinging to his body like a magnet. He smiles gently and wraps his arms around her form, pulling her onto her side and into his chest, smoothing her hair down as he presses an occasional kiss to her forehead. They've cuddled at the shop a few times, but nothing like this — not an all-consuming, full body experience that has Harry feeling like he's in heaven. She smells so good, her skin is so warm, and she's wrapped up in his clothes — he doesn't think he could ask for anything more in this moment.
Just as he thinks she's fallen asleep, he hears a soft voice muffled into his sweatshirt. He glances down, wondering if she's just talking in her sleep. Instead, he's met with tired, sweet eyes.
"What was that?" he whispers, swiping his knuckle lightly over her cheek.
"Thank you," she mumbles. "For today."
"I would do anything for you, princess. Hope you know that."
She yawns with a shake of her head. "That's a silly thing to promise."
. . .
When Y/N wakes up the next morning, she's under the weight of a long haired man that, for the past two weeks, only existed in her dreams.
It's jarring for him to actually exist in her reality now, but even more so that she stayed over at his place and slept in the same bed as him.
Less than 24 hours away from her parents and she's already crossed off another first off her list.
But the blissful moment of realization is quickly stripped away when the events of last night come flooding back to her — the date with Arthur, his rough nature, the supposed deal between him and her parents. Her parents who were an entirely different issue on their own — she feels a dull throb aching behind her temples just as the thought of how they're planning to lure her back, worry seeping into her bones when she realizes she hasn't checked her phone since they left the tattoo shop last night.
Harry must feel her panicked thoughts rising because he blinks his eyes open to see a prominent furrow between her eyebrows. Without her realizing it, he moves carefully, raising his thumb to smooth it away.
"What're you stressing about so early in the morning?" he rasps out. She swallows, moving onto her side to face him.
"They've probably issued out a search party by now."
"Mm, can't do that. You're not considered a missing person until it's been 48 hours."
His joke clearly doesn't land when Y/N squints her eyes at him. Instead, he quickly wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. 
"It's gonna be okay, Y/N. I promised you would never go back there and I meant it," he explains lowly, pressing a light kiss to the shell of her ear. "What if you just text them and tell them that you're done? You're over 18, there's no reason why they can keep doing this."
Her eyes close as she relaxes into his chest, enjoying the sensation of his vibrating chest from his deep voice. 
"I'm too scared to look at my phone." she admits quietly. "I can't imagine the mean things they've written to me."
"Do you want me to look?" Harry asks softly, using his hand to tilt her head up to look at him. 
She shrugs. "If you do, can you maybe not tell me what they say? Just tell me the important stuff?"
"Course."
She nods and sits up, reaching onto his night stand for her phone. With a deep breath, she hands it to him before rolling over onto her other side to face the wall. 
He runs his fingers up and down her spine as he goes through her missed texts. There's one or two from that prick Arthur, but they're nothing important — just an ask that she calls him when she's feeling better (he resists the urge to block his number altogether). But otherwise... well, he's admittedly shocked at what he finds.
"Is it bad?" she asks, wedging her thumbnail between her teeth.
"Um..." Harry presses his lips into a thin line, rolling them into his mouth. "You didn't block their numbers or anything, right?"
"No."
"Dove... I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, but... there's nothing."
She flips onto her back, a stunned expression painting her face. "What?"
"They didn't text or call, sweetheart. I'm... I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, but... you just had some missed texts from that guy from last night."
"How is that possible?" she asks when he hands her phone to her, "I— do you think they haven't noticed?"
"I'm not sure. You said they've been on you more often lately, I would assume that they'd be waiting up for you last night, right?"
She shrugs, "Yeah. Probably."
"On the other hand, though, it could mean that... well, maybe you're home free, dovie," Harry says, treading carefully in case he accidentally upsets her, "We can take the day to relax. I don't have to go into work today and we can figure out your next steps, if you'd like."
With a heavy sigh, she nods her head and sits up a little straighter, running her hand through her messy bedhead. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"
"Sure," Harry mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before allowing his feet to touch the chilly wood floor of his bedroom. "I'll get you set up in the bathroom."
She doesn't reply to that so Harry decides to leave her be, instead deciding to show his affection in an act of service. He starts by running the shower on the perfect temperature — not too hot but not too cool either, just so steam begins to steadily fill the room — and picks out his plushiest towels for when she's done. He finishes by lighting his favorite candle for her, moseying back out to his bedroom to fetch her a new pair of sweats. 
She's on her feet when he returns, scrolling on her phone with her lips pressed into a straight line. Silently, he grabs another pair of his sweatpants and a tee-shirt and reaches out for her hand; a wordless request to follow him. 
She does, pliantly, but not before peering up at him with eyes that tell him everything: She's sad. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out.
"Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Harry murmurs, folding her new clothes on the covered toilet seat. "You're obviously free to use whatever you want in there."
Swallowing harshly, she begins to tug at the hem of her borrowed tee-shirt before he has the chance to scamper out of the room. His eyes widen — he feels like a dick, she probably wants to be alone and now he's standing her ogling at her breasts like an idiot — but she simply stares at him with blank eyes.
"Can you... distract me?" she asks softly, her torso now bare, "It's— it's just been too much and I miss you. A lot."
Harry breathes in sharply. "I don't know if that's a good idea, dovie... it's been an emotional time for you."
"I know that," she mumbles, biting her bottom lip. "I just— I wanna feel normal again, Harry. Like how things were before. When we could just kiss and hang out and I didn't feel like I'm gonna burst into flames at any point."
"I know," Harry nods understandingly and bumps his hip against the sink. "But things are different now, princess. And I don't want to do something that you'll regret later because you were feeling down."
She shakes her head quickly, taking a step towards him. The steam from the shower has effectively warmed the bathroom, making beads of sweat pearl at his hairline. Well, that and the topless girl in front of him. 
"I would never regret anything we do," she says, "Even when I tried to stay away from you, I didn't regret a single moment."
"Really?"
"Of course not," she replies, keeping her gaze set on him, "Sometimes, I, um... I even played with myself. Thinking of you."
"Jesus Christ."
He lets out a frustrated groan and closes the bathroom door, tugging his own tee-shirt up and over his body to reveal his heavily inked chest and arms. In a minute, his hands are on her, squeezing her sides as he presses her back against the wall. 
"Tell me more," he mutters, leaning down and sponging kisses along her jawline and down to her neck. "What did you do? What did you think about?"
The sudden physicality makes it hard for her to breathe, let alone talk, but she tries to anyway, knowing that he'll tease her into oblivion if she doesn't at least make an attempt. With his fingers curling into the waistband of the sweatpants she wears, she tries to remember the nights when all she could think about was him. 
"Thought about— oh—" her sentence is interrupted when he nips at the crook of her neck, his fingers dipping beneath her panties to lightly roll over her clit. She leans her head back but, as expected, he attempts to keep her on task, using his other hand to gently squeeze the sides of her neck. "T-thought about you touching me... l-like this."
"Like what?" 
"This," she repeats through a gasp when he starts to apply a bit more pressure to her clit, pressing small circles into the nerves. 
"Don't know what that means, dove. Gotta spell it out for me. Where was I touching you?"
Y/N moans when one of his fingers dips into her pulsating hole, just enough to make her clench, her knees weakening. He squeezes her neck again, this time a bit tighter, and her eyes roll back. 
"Where was I touching you, Y/N?" 
"D-down there." she says breathily.
"Down where?"
She knows there's no way she's getting out of this, and the rhythmic pulsing of her clit is only a reminder of the power he holds over her in this moment. She whimpers, swallowing harshly when he removes his finger, keeping the tip inside. 
"Tell me," he encourages lowly, licking over the sensitive part of her neck he found a few weeks back. "Don't you wanna be my dirty girl again?"
"Y-you were touching my pussy." she mumbles, her cheeks burning. She can feel his smirk, the way his lips curl against her skin. As promised, he dips his finger back in, curling it up against the spot that has her fluttering her eyes closed, and resumes the soft circles into her clit. 
"I was touching your pussy? That's a naughty thing for a sweet girl like you to imagine," he lowers, placing open-mouthed kisses down her naked chest. "And what were you doing while you thought of that, hm?"
Y/N gasps wetly as he pulses his finger steadily, a groan falling from his own lips when he feels her arousal gush out around his hand. Based on how long it took her to refer to her own anatomy, Harry doesn't have high expectations for her explaining how she touched herself, so it's a given that he'll help push her along. 
"Did you grind your little clit on your hand?" he asks as he lowers to his knees, tugging the sweatpants down her legs and pressing kisses to her exposed stomach. "Or did you hump one of those cute stuffed animals you have on your bed?"
She pants heavily at that, a soundless lightbulb illuminating above his head. Bingo.
"Don't think I didn't notice those little stuffies in your bedroom from when you'd send me pretty pictures of yourself," he murmurs into her hips, nipping at the stretch marks on her stomach, "Is that what you would do when you thought of me? Hump your cute bunny, moaning, wishing I was there to take care of you?"
She nods her head, quickly and haphazardly. He pushes his lips over her mound, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake as he continues his journey down to her pussy. She's wet, perhaps even more so than he's ever seen her before, her juices leaking from where his finger is buried deep inside down to his wrist. 
"Please," she whimpers from above, making him glance up at her, "Just— just want you. Please."
"You have me, dovie." he replies easily, pushing a second finger in and nestling it close to the first. 
"N-no. Want you. All of you."
He swallows and sits back on his heels. She has no idea how badly he wants that, and if it were anyone else in the world, he'd probably say yes. But it's her — his sweet, innocent girl that showed up at his tattoo shop one day and hasn't left his brain for one second since — and he knows that right now isn't the time for them.
"I'll give you that as soon as things get better," he murmurs, keeping his gaze set on her. "But you deserve so much more than to be fucked for the first time against a bathroom wall. Wanna take you out, make it romantic."
She blinks, taking a moment to process his polite rejection, nevertheless slowly nodding her head. He leans forward and presses another light kiss to her mound, just below her stomach. 
"Y'wanna know something, though?"
Again, she nods, and he begins to slowly curl his fingers up against her g-spot once more.
"I love the fact that I've corrupted you," he mutters, kissing down to her hood, right where her clit is peeking out. He licks just above there and she moans, pushing her hips out slightly as a wordless request to keep moving down. "Remember when you were that polite girl coming in with her friend? And now you're at my place, begging for my cock, asking me to take your virginity."
"Uh-huh," she mewls as his lips wrap around her clit, sucking perfectly in time with his thrusting fingers. 
He pauses his movements for a moment, just enough for a demand: "Say it," he says, immediately returning to the assault on her most sensitive parts. 
"Y-you corrupted me," she breathes, punctuating the sentiment with a whimper when he harshens his sucking, "I'm yours— oh, I'm yours, daddy—"
"That's right." he uses his other hand to part her pussy lips, spitting squarely on her clit, even if she doesn't need any more lubrication. He switches to kitten licking the bundle of nerves, feeling her hole beginning to clench violently around his fingers. "Cum for me like a good girl. Missed feeling your little pussy squeeze me like this."
That's all it takes for her to cum, her body feeling like it's exploding into a million stars as his tongue and fingers work her through the intense pleasure. He's groaning from the taste of her arousal that drools out from her pussy, the feeling of haphazard pulsations the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He loves watching her — her head ducked back slightly, her eyes squeezed closed, and the prettiest whimpers falling from plushy lips. 
"S-sensitive," she finally stutters out and Harry nods, gently pulling his fingers out. They immediately find their way into his mouth as he rises back up to his feet. When he's finished licking them clean, he grabs her jaw. 
"Open."
She does. Her lips part, opening her mouth, her pink tongue laying dormant inside. With a smirk, his eyes flicker up to hers before he spits into her mouth. 
It takes her by surprise, her body jolting slightly, but her sensitive pussy twitches from the act. 
"Swallow."
Slowly, she closes her mouth, swallowing the combination of his spit with her arousal. A moment later, she opens it again to show him there's nothing left.
"Fuck," he mutters. "Fuck, you're incredible."
She smiles gently, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Can we shower now?"
Harry chuckles and nods, guiding her into the steaming stream of water.
. . .
"Okay, princess. Repeat the plan back to me."
Y/N is doing her best to fight off a panic attack as she sits in the passenger's seat of Harry's car. Swallowing harshly, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she restates the steps they'd decided on last night.
"We're gonna go up to their apartment and go straight to my bedroom. If they're there, I'm going to ignore them and let you do the talking. I won't listen to anything rude they say to me."
"That's right. What do we do when we're in your room?"
"We're gonna pack up my things, but only the necessities. Most things can be repurchased." 
"Exactly. We're going for important things that you don't wanna leave behind."
She nods, watching the city streets slowly progress to the familiar high-end stores and supermarkets she grew up around. Suddenly, the blocks were far more sanitary and well taken care of. It made her stomach flutter in the worst way, being back here after spending the past few days at Harry's house in her newly preferred neighborhood.
In a stroke of luck, Harry had a friend that was looking for a roommate. Apparently, they'd worked together as tattoo apprentices a few years back and they still kept in touch. Her name was Lucy, and Harry had even set up a coffee date between the three of them so they could sit down before Y/N made any big decisions. She had been really nervous about it, but Lucy turned out to be incredibly nice and understanding. 
Y/N explained her situation to her, only to receive an abundance of kindness in return — she said that she would love to have her move in with her, that she was a pretty quiet person to live with and worked most days while Y/N would be in school. (She missed around two weeks of classes because of her parents, but Harry convinced her to meet with her professors and tell them she had a family emergency. Thankfully, they were fine with it, and with a little extra studying and hunkering down, she thinks she can still end the semester with low Bs.) 
With her living situation figured out and Y/N back to being a full-time student, the only thing left to address was her parents. In an ideal world, she would never have to deal with them again, but she knows that's unrealistic. They still haven't reached out to her despite it being a full week since she went back to Harry.
And while she wants to run away and abandon her former life, Harry convinced her that she had things she'd regret leaving behind. Not to mention, since starting grad school, she started saving money from her parents in the event that she somehow received an opportunity to get away from them. It wasn't enough to sustain her forever, but it would be good enough for a few months of bills and rent until she gets a job.
When Harry parks in the lot under her parents' apartment building, she feels nauseous. She ignores the sleek black Range Rover that's still parked in her assigned spot — she has no desire to take it, especially because it was just another way for her parents to pretend they were giving her freedom when they were just controlling her even more.
Wordlessly, they get in the elevator. Y/N's nibbling on her bottom lip to the point of near-blood draw while Harry thumbs over her knuckles, pressing a light kiss to her palm when the elevator dings at their arrival.
Standing outside of their apartment door, Y/N rolls her shoulders back to stand up straighter. She can feel Harry's presence close behind her and it brings her comfort, knowing that she's not going in this alone. He murmurs out a near-whisper of encouragement ("you can do this") before she punches in the door code. She's surprised when it works — she'd been half expecting them to change the codes so she couldn't come back.
Hesitantly and with intertwined fingers, Y/N leads them to her bedroom. The apartment is silent, which typically means her parents are gone, but her anxiety is too overwhelming for her to trust it. 
Which she supposes is for good reason, because when she opens the door to her room, her mother is sitting on her bed.
"Y/N," she says, eyes roaming inquisitively from her daughter to the man she's holding hands with. "I saw you coming up on the security cameras."
A bead of panic drips down her spine. Harry squeezes her hand and steps forward, clearly prepared to reply, when Y/N stops him. 
"Why are you here?" Y/N asks. Harry looks at her with a confused expression but he takes a step back, ready to defend her if needed. "You haven't contacted me for a week."
"Well, this is my property, Y/N. You're trespassing."
"Okay." she sighs, looking up at Harry. "Just give us a minute then, we just want to grab some of my stuff and we'll be gone."
"And this is who you'll be living with?" her mom quirks an eyebrow. "This... person from the bookstore that day?"
"He tried talking to you. You had no interest."
"Well I would think you would defend your boyfriend better than that. How was I supposed to know?"
Y/N grits her teeth and shakes her head, "Again, mother, just give us a minute. I'm not taking any furniture or anything valuable, just a few keepsakes."
"You're abandoning this family, I hope you know that," her mother spits as Y/N begins to rustle through her desk, grabbing some pictures and notebooks. Silently, she hands them to Harry, who carefully slips everything in the tote bag around his shoulder. "Your father is so disappointed. So are the Franklins! I mean, you left Arthur alone like that on your first date! And for what, a lifetime of struggling for money?"
"Not everything is about money!" Y/N exclaims, turning around. Harry's eyebrows shoot up — he's never seen her get angry before. "Besides that, you promised me off to Arthur like I'm some kind of object! Who does that?!"
"It was for the better of the company and the family, Y/N, don't be dramatic—"
"Well I didn't want that! I never did!" she shouts, "I want to live my own life! With my boyfriend! Who, by the way, I'm not living with! He's just helping me get on my feet, but even if I was moving in with him, it wouldn't matter, because it's not your life! You don't get to make my decisions anymore!"
Her mother scoffs and Y/N rolls her eyes. When she finds her envelope of money deep at the bottom of her dresser, she grabs a few pairs of pants and sweaters, sticking it between the layers of fabric to pass off to Harry. He tucks them all away. 
"You know you're cut off after this, right?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is it. You walk out that door, you're never allowed back. Don't ask us for a single cent."
Bristled, Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle as she heads for the door, Harry right behind her. They cross the length of the apartment and she slams the down button to the elevator, turning around to look at her mother for the last time.
"I never want to come back, mother. Goodbye."
The click of her mother's heels are the last thing she hears as they enter the elevator and ride down to the parking lot.
. . .
When they get into Harry's car, he realizes it's been a solid five minutes since Y/N has said anything. 
He doesn't want to pressure her — he knows that what just happened was a lot, and when he was reading articles like how to help your partner leave an abusive family last night, they all instructed him to go at her pace. So, that's what he decides to do.
The interior of the car is silent as they drive out of the lot and away from her parents, the boring, dull building just a reflection in the rearview mirror. He doesn't want to turn the radio on and make it seem like he doesn't care, but he also doesn't want to say something stupid and upset her further. 
It's only when he hears a sound resembling a giggle that he looks over at Y/N, a concerned furrow in his brow. 
But she is laughing. 
The most beautiful grin is covering her face as she lets out loud laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shakes her head, looking at Harry, whose confused expression only makes her laugh even harder.
"Dovie, are you alright?" he asks, pulling the car over in preparation for a full meltdown. 
"I—" her words are cut off by another peel of laughter and she takes another moment to pull herself together, "Oh my god— I would've done that years ago if I knew it'd be that easy!"
This time, Harry chuckles, a wave of relief washing over him.
"I'm so proud of you," he says, leaning over to pull her hands into his lap. "You stood up for yourself. You left. I couldn't be happier for you."
"Thank you," she bubbles, her cheeks flushed from her laughter, "I'm so happy. Thank you so much, Harry... I'm just so thankful for you."
He shakes his head, "I'll do anything for you, princess."
Y/N leans over to kiss him lightly, a smile continuing to curl at the edges of her lips. "I love you, you know."
Harry grins.
"Yeah, I love you, too."
. . .
The bell above the front door of St. Mark's Social Club rings as Y/N steps inside. She smiles politely at Jo, the kind receptionist that sits at the front desk (the same one that checked Mai in a few months ago). She's still getting comfortable with all the different employees and characters that come in and out of Harry's tattoo shop, but her socialization skills have definitely improved since moving out.
She walked over as soon as she got out of class. Lately, she's been staying on campus a bit later to do some studying for finals, but today's Friday. Over the past few weeks as Y/N's adjusted to her new life of living on her own and officially dating Harry, they've designated Friday nights as theirs, whether it mean curling up on the couch with a pizza or heading out to a bar with some of Harry's employees. (More often than not, it's the former — despite Harry being the more social of the two, he's always eager to get his hands on her after a day of being away from one another.)
He's wrapping up his last client of the day when Y/N peeks into his station, waving with a small smile. Harry's stoic and focused expression instantly transforms into one of excitement.  
"Hey dove," he greets as he tears off a clear piece of plastic to cover his client's new tattoo. (Y/N's since learned that it's called Saniderm, and it's apparently some way of helping fresh tattoos heal faster.) "You can put your stuff down in my office, I'll be there in a sec."
She nods and bounces off to the small room at the end of the hallway. Instantly, she lays back against the velvet couch in the corner, placing her backpack on the floor. As promised, Harry walks in a few minutes later, pulling off his plastic gloves and tossing them in the garbage can. 
"How was your day?" he asks, leaning down to peck her lips. She hums, hands in her lap as he smiles down at her.
"Good. Class was boring, I was excited to come see you."
"Oh yeah?" he smirks, "You better have been paying attention and not letting your mind wander with those dirty thoughts of yours."
Y/N rolls her eyes. "Harry, you're the one that tries to have phone sex, like, every night."
"We'll get there one day, I think."
She laughs and shakes her head, crossing her legs. "What are you in the mood to eat for dinner tonight?"
"Mm, not sure," he replies, "I forgot, I have one deal to do before we head out for the day. 's why I came around to begin with. I hope that's alright."
She nods her head, "Yeah, that's fine."
"Thanks, princess," he murmurs, leaning forward to press a light kiss to her nose. "Who'd have thought, three months ago yo@u'd be dating the hot tattoo artist that sells weed on the side?"
"You're silly," she mumbles with a giggle, "But... to be honest, I never thought this is what my life would look like three months ago."
"I'm sure. Are you happy with it, though?"
Y/N has to bite her lip from grinning too hard. 
"I don't think I could be any happier, Harry."
She squeals when he pushes her back against the length of the sofa to press kisses all over her face.
. . .
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cottontears · 6 months
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Hi queen! I love your writing! I NEED MORE STEP DADDY HENRY PLEASEE PLEASEEEE😮‍💨 (dw if you don’t wanna, i j need more 🧎🏻‍♀️)
you're like crack to me,(i don't want to leave)
ೃ⁀➷ step daddy! henry x naive, innocent fem! reader !
ೃ⁀➷ word count: 2,643
ೃ⁀➷ a/n: i'm back angels!
ೃ⁀➷ warnings: step-cest, step-daddy henry, virgin! reader, reader goes to a party and gets harassed (nothing that bad), squirting, smut, breeding kink, daddy kink (if i miss anything please let me know!) not beta'd
ೃ⁀➷ comments and reblogs always appreciated 🫶🏻
╰➤ linktree ╰➤ pinterest╰➤ request rules
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───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────
you never got along with your mother’s husband.
your stepdad was always harsh, scoffing at you when you sat at the dinner table and you would talk about boys.
he would make you change when he caught you trying to leave for a party in a skimpy outfit.
but even though he annoyed you, there was no way for you to hate him.
when your mother left on an overseas job when you started college with a one-way ticket to tokyo, he was there for you.
when you had no one to go home to during the college holidays of your freshman year, he was there for you. offering you a room in his manhattan penthouse. you always had the option to stay at the dorms at nyu, but… the penthouse was big and quiet. it had a pool.
it had huge windows from which you could see the city and lounges where you could read comfortably. 
plus your room… it was heavenly, your dream room, with a huge bed, and a small shelf with some of your favorite books.
it was as if he had listened when you talked about them around him… which you thought it impossible because he did not care for you.
you were sprawled on the leather couch in the main living room, the tv playing one of your comfort shows, but you were barely paying attention.
your new laptop sat on your lap, courtesy of your stepdad.
your brows furrowed.
lately, he had been being cordial to you. smiled at you whenever your paths crossed, telling you good morning, or goodnight (depending on the time).
he had his personal chef make you your favorite foods.
he knew what your favorite foods were.
you rolled your lips.
you could not fathom the reason why your mother had left.
he was perfect.
well… 
ugh.
he was attractive, and kind, and he had given you his number in case you ever needed him.
he was never outright mean to you.
but you could tell you disappointed him.
and it hurt you.
you wanted to make him proud.
it had always been you and your mom. and even then, it had mostly been just you.
you had been an unwanted accident, the 0.1% error on condoms. your mother made sure to remind you.
you never knew your father.
henry was the first ‘father figure’ you had. if you could even call him that. 
he had been around for a while when you lived with your mom, it had been impossible not to get to know him a little. enough to be comfortable around him. scowls and all
he came into your life when you were just turning seventeen.
that was almost two years ago.
you were nineteen now.
and you had not even had your first boyfriend.
all your college friends spend their time doing god knows what with their partners.
and you?
you groaned, opening your phone.
one of your high school friends had invited you to a party in an apartment downtown.
you huffed. 
you had to put yourself out there.
being trapped in his house made you have dangerous thoughts.
so you went to get ready.
putting on some music while you apply your makeup. you put glitter on your eyelids and a fair amount of blush.
it took you a while to decide on what to wear, but you decided on a tight dress with spaghetti straps. the most risqué clothing in your closet.
you chose a pink bag, it was a gift. a balenciaga denim le cagole shoulder bag. you were too naive to know it’s cost, but it was real pretty.
you filled it with your lip glosses, wallet, and portable charger, just in case.
he was working late, probably, as he usually did, even if it was a friday.
so you got on the elevator and made your way to the taxi where your friend waited for you.
───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────
you fucked up.
“come on, come on, come on!” you frantically tapped on the screen of your phone, it was plugged into the portable charger taking a few seconds to turn on.
as soon as it did, you unlocked it and went to your favorite contacts.
you clicked on the name ‘mr. cavill’, waiting with bated breath for him to pick up.
“y/n” his voice came through the speaker, worried.
you sobbed, breaking down.
“send me your location, i am on my way. do not hang up.”
you sobbed harder.
your friend abandoned you, leaving you to the wolves (boys who groped you and tried to get you to drink).
you ran down the stairwell because the elevator was not fast enough. you wailed down the many flights of stairs. mascara running down your cheeks, fingers curled around your phone, your heavy breaths accompanied by his random updates and reassurances. you felt your brain get hazy with panic once you burst outside. 
you had long taken your heels off, feet aching. it had taken you about fifteen minutes to get down the stairs and outside the building. hopefully, he was close.
you looked around frantically, on edge.
some boys smoked a few feet from you, they started toward you.
you sniffed.
“y/n? what happened? huh?” came a static voice from your phone
“please daddy! i ca-can’t!” your words hectic, bordering on hysterical.
“shit, i’m almost there bug.”
“whose that?” one of the boys leered. “your daddy? crying to daddy now huh? we can make you feel better, baby.”
you heard cursing on the other end of the phone.
“come on, we mean no harm! what’s a pretty girl doing alone huh?”
“i’m here bug, get in.”
you heard screeching along the pavement as an audi stopped in-front of you.
you did not hesitate, opening the door, jumping in, and slamming it behind you.
you curled up into a sobbing ball in the passenger seat, almost forgetting to put your seatbelt on.
it was eerily silent. the beeping alarm of an unfastened seatbelt brought you out of the trance, buckling the safety belt on. you curled your knees into your chest, wrapping your arms around them. your body trembled with the aftershock of the whole evening, and you looked up to study him.
his jaw was clenched. you could tell he was furious. 
somehow it brought you comfort knowing he wasn’t indifferent to you being in danger.
the ride back home was short, but the silence made it stretch. you had never put yourself in a situation similar to this. you had never given him any big reason to be mad at you.
once in the building, he got out of the car. you took deep breaths, taking a few seconds before moving to unbuckle your seatbelt. before you could move to open the car door, he was there, leaning down, and sliding his arms under you, pulling your body towards him. 
it was instinctual, the way your arms wrapped around your neck, and your legs locked around his waist. 
you were shaken and did not have a clear enough mind to be embarrassed. 
“are you drunk?”
“n-no, they tried to get me to drink, that’s why i left-”
he walked towards the elevator, and you felt his muscles shift against you. your skimpy dress rose over your thighs, his rough hands grazing your soft skin. your body spasmed in response and he grunted in response. 
neither of you seemed embarrassed enough to separate, so neither of you said a word. you just held on tighter. the elevator doors closed and you went up to the lobby, into the private elevator that led to the penthouse.
it was more private, it was his elevator. and you were safe.
his nose grazed your sweaty neck and you heard his inhale. he was unapologetic. his hands flexing on your ass. 
you bucked your hips softly, your barely covered cunt brushing the hard material of his suit.
“careful there, you don’t want to start anything you can’t finish” his voice was rougher than usual, strained.
“i just, want you to hold me…” you could barely make sense of the concoction of strong feelings flowing through your veins. you were certain that you would break apart if he let you go.
he hummed in what seemed like assent. 
the elevator dinged and you were home. “do you want me to take you to your room?”
“later..” your voice was meek. you could feel your cunt clenching at the simple pressure of him against you.
he walked to the kitchen sitting you down on the sleek counter. you snapped your thighs closed, you desperately wanted to sneak your hand into your panties and relieve the ache.
you watched him move around the kitchen, he made you a glass of water “drink.” his voice gruff. you drank as he made you a simple sandwich.
he leaned against the edge of a counter and watched you eat it.
you averted your eyes, chewing slowly. you licked the crumbs off your fingers, and you could hear his audible intake of breath.
“can we watch a movie?” you were sleepy, the adrenaline fading away, but you wanted an excuse to stay with him.
he chuckled softly, seeing right through you.
“how about you get ready for bed. we can watch the movie tomorrow…”
───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────
you went your separate ways. 
and you tried to be good. 
not touching your aching pussy, because you wanted to hold off… for what? you would never admit to yourself.
but you laid in your silk pajama set on your bed for a while, and it felt cold. you were anxious.
before you could think, you were tip-toeing out of your room, down the hallway, and freezing in front of his door.
it was deadly silent. maybe he was asleep.
you knocked softly, not enough to wake him in case he had been sleeping.
you had never entered the room. it was spacious. the curtains open, displaying the city lights, you could see him clearly, sitting on his bed, laptop on his lap.
he was shirtless. your throat dried. you gulped and could not help but stare.
you jolted at the soft sound of his computer closing, he placed it on the nightstand, turning your attention to you.
his expression was soft and open, nothing you had ever seen before. “are you okay sweetheart? do you need anything?”
you bit your lip, your chin trembling with a wave of emotions.
your legs moved you toward the bed.
it was you who was making the move, of your own volition. his eyelids fluttered, eyes darkened as his pupils doubled in size.
you slid a leg over his lap, situating yourself on him, thighs straddling his lap. 
you gasped as you felt his sweatpants tent with his hardness against your covered cunt.
you placed your palms on his shoulders.
“you… i need you, please…” you rolled your hips deep breathing filled the room.
“i need you to be a hundred percent sure, i’ve wanted you for so long, i don’t want to ruin us…” his voice was strained, his hands sliding over the soft texture of your silky pajamas. 
“please… please daddy, i need you!”
in a millisecond you were on your back, and he hovered over you, using his forearms as support.
your eyes met in the nightlight, and you rolled your hips, needy for anything to get you off.
“sweetheart…” his hands were under your silk shirt, and caressing the soft warm skin of your stomach, sliding up, up into your pebbled nipples. “you are better than anything my mind made up.”
“you thought about me?” you whined as his thumbs played with your nipples
“always.” slid his hands under your shorts and panties and yanked them harshly down your legs. 
“ahhh-” you sighed in pleasure as his index finger slid you open, you were dripping wet. and the drag of his rough calloused finger made your pussy weep and clench.
he slid one finger inside you, rubbing your clit with his thumb.
your hips jerked and bucked in surprise.
the feeling of his touch was exquisite, incomparable to your own.
“daddy!” you yelped as his thumb pressed harshly on your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your nerves. 
“do you like this baby?”
“yes! nothing like my own hand…”
you heard him groan, “don’t tell me no one else has touched this pretty pussy.”
“j-just you, please!”  your gummy walls clenched around his fingers, he withdrew them, and this time his middle finger joined in.
you could feel the familiar pressure building in your core. this time it felt like it was going to burst. and you whined, never achieving orgasm before.
“you feel so good around my fingers, so tight, i can’t wait to fuck you with my cock, feel you clench around me.” his voice was gruff and you yelped as you felt the pressure build and build. 
your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping them hard, 
you were about to come, and he had not kissed you.
“kiss me, please daddy…”
“sweet girl,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips lowered to yours. they were soft against yours, but harsh in their movements. 
his thumb rubbed your clit, and slowly the pressure grew to be too much. your jaw slackened and you screamed as your whole body shook with pleasure
you felt your pussy gush and you moaned uncontrollably at the release.
“baby, do you think you ready for me?”
“yes, please, please! more.” your voice shook slightly, legs trembling with the aftershock of orgasm.
you whined at the loss of his body warmth as he moved to remove his pants, he had not been wearing any boxers, your thighs clenched at the sight, his defined muscles, pointing at his dick.
your body spasmed with inpatient and he chuckled.
“open your legs for me doll.”
it took some effort but you slid your legs open for him to rest his hips between your thighs.
the pressure of his hard cock against your sensitive dick was enough to make you roll your hips.
he whispered soft praises and words of encouragement as he aligned himself with your drenched cunt.
you slid your hands over his waist and onto his lower back, spreading your fingers as he pushed into you.
you exhaled loudly as you felt him deliciously stretch you open. your mouth was open, wanton whines and moans leaving your lips like prayers.
henry’s words started to make less and less sense as he fully sheathed himself into your pussy.
you tightened your thighs around his hips, pulling him closer with your hands.
his moved his hips, his cock sliding out of you slightly before he thrusted slowly back in. 
“unhhhh-” tears slipped down your eyelids, it felt so unbelievably good, your breasts brushed against his hard muscles, and his body weight on you felt better than everything you could ever dream of.
his thrusts sped up, harder, faster deeper, and you were screaming and crying in pleasure
“daddy ’s good, feel so good, ‘m gonna come.” you babbled, your body spasming with overstimulation, you felt the now familiar pleasure wash over you.
your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came, your pussy squeezing him, and squirting with overstimulation, you were too high on pleasure to be embarrassed.
his thrusts got sloppy. “going to make daddy a mommy!”
you shivered at the unexpected pleasure that visual gave you and you felt him shudder and spasm, his dick spurting with come, painting your walls with his come. 
his body went slack, and his full body weight was on you.
your eyes closed in blissful exhaustion. 
you had everything you ever dreamed of, consciousness escaped you along with a “love you daddy”. 
you were too gone to hear him say it back.
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ty for reading angles, hope you enjoyed, -reblogs and comments always appreciated-
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