#One shot
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triple trouble, atsumu miya
pairing atsumu miya x f!reader
word count 1.6k
synopsis atsumu steals every reporters' attention as he introduces the media to his triplets during a post-game interview; or, more accurately, his triplets steal all the attention. like father, like sons.
content contains domestic fluff, dad!atsumu, atsumu & reader are married and so in love, babies, mention of pregnancy
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The flashes of cameras going off, the constant exclamations of “Miya! Miya!” coming from the crowd of journalists and reporters all vying for his attention, the fact that the foldout chairs they use for all these post-game interviews are harder on your ass than falling on asphalt — all of this is being handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.
Or, normally all of this would be handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.
But right now, the Atsumu Miya struggling to take a seat in the most uncomfortable chair known to man, dyed hair a mess, his usual trademark smirk replaced by furrowed brows and a look of concentration, doesn’t appear to be the godlike adversary on the court. In fact, he looks oddly human.
The cause of what has humbled this cocky athlete and reduced him to mere mortal man are the three chubby toddlers he’s cradling in his arms.
All of them are identical, from their chubby cheeks to their little grubby hands. Heads full of thick, dark brown hair (reminiscent of their father’s natural color) poke out from Atsumu’s hold, and the eighteen-month-olds’ eyes are all full of childlike wonder as they watch the crowd, confused as to who all these people are.
After finally getting settled into his seat, Atsumu addresses the crowd casually, as if he didn’t spend the last two minutes ensuring that his baby boys weren’t going to slip from his arms while he tried to prepare for this interview. Akimitsu is secured in his left arm, Akihiko in the right, leaving poor Akinari to cling onto Atsumu’s neck.
While athletes have been getting more comfortable with bringing their kids up on stage with them, no one has ever seen a professional athlete haul his three babies with him.
A fact that one reporter is more than happy to point out.
“Miya, wife put you on babysitting duty?” A male journalist calls out from the crowd. A few chuckles follow, but Atsumu just smiles at the mention of you.
“Nah. It’s not babysittin’ if they’re your damn kids, right? Besides, she deserves a break.” A few appreciative murmurs flutter through the crowd.
After the initial surprise of seeing identical triplets being carried in the MSBY Black Jackals’ setter’s arms, the reporters are back to business as usual. They’re all professionals — even if hearing Atsumu give them a great quote to use as a hook (“I respect Nakamura as a human bein’ but calling him a setter for a professional league volleyball team is an insult to setters everywhere.”) is followed by him cooing sweet words of affirmation to whichever of his sons happens to be babbling in his ears.
“Nakamura isn’t a very good player, is he, Akihiko?” No one outside of your family and his teammates have ever heard Atsumu sound so affectionate. His words are practically coated in sugar, and it’s hard to remember that he’s insulting another player in the league whenever he’s practically bumping noses with his toddler son when he says it.
Akihiko, most likely due to his father’s influence, lets out a stream of enthusiastic gurgles that Atsumu automatically translates to him being in complete agreement with him.
“Write that down.” He says to the crowd. “Even my baby knows he’s shit at the game.”
There’s a few more minutes of Atsumu answering the usual post-game questions, but halfway through one of his responses, Akinari loses his grip on Atsumu’s neck and is about to tumble to the floor before Atsumu’s reflexes kick in. You’ve made a joke once that you think Atsumu’s reflexes have become heightened after becoming a father; his athletic instincts have merged with the famous “dad reflexes” all fathers seem to be gifted with. (Atsumu tells reporters that this is why he keeps on becoming a better player; people think his family would hold him back, but once again, family is his greatest blessing.)
“Ya gotta hang onto me, buddy.” Atsumu can’t even pretend to be stern when he tells this to Akinari, who only smiles at him and exclaims something unintelligible. He shifts Akinari to his left arm, relaxes back in his seat, and is even excited to answer a question concerning his play style compared to Tobio Kageyama’s, but as he readjusts the two boys in his arms, Atsumu can’t help but startle at the fact that he has three kids. Not just two.
Momentarily panicked, he almost wants to ask why the hell no one told him one of his kids jumped ship but then he feels a tug on the bottom hem of his volleyball shorts.
Peering under the table, Atsumu is greeted with the sight of Akimitsu’s mischievous little face. He’s the oldest of the three and takes after Atsumu the most — meaning, he’s the cutest little nightmare there could ever be.
“Whatcha doin’ under the table, Mitsu?” Atsumu asks, and Akimitsu gives out a happy, gleeful shriek. He’s clapping his grubby hands together and cheering.
“Dada found me!”
“I did find ya, buddy.” Atsumu coos. “Now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap?”
After wrangling up all his kids once more, Atsumu sighs and looks up at the timer in front of him.
“I have enough time for one more question.” He tells the crowd.
“Are you excited to get out of here and get back home to the wife?”
“I’m always happy to come home to [Name]. If there’s a professional league for motherhood, she’s going into the hall of fame. I don’t know how she handles these fools by herself all day.”
Akihiko takes a tiny, chubby hand and smacks Atsumu in the face. Repeatedly.
“Home! Home!” His slaps get slightly more aggressive, but Atsumu’s received some serves with his face before, so it doesn’t really phase him. “Home! Mama!”
“Well, you heard the man.” Atsumu actually gives a genuine smile for the cameras. “We gotta head home.”
You’re applying your moisturizer in the bathroom despite the mirror being fogged up from the hot shower. It’s probably why you don’t anticipate strong arms wrapping themselves around your body, and you gasp before your muscle memory recognizes him. Your body easily relaxes against his, and you’re smiling as you ask your husband,
“Had a good day today?”
“We took ‘em in two straight sets. Slaughtered the other team to the point where it wasn’t even fair.” He angles his head just right so he can kiss you on the cheek, but you gently slap him away.
“I’m putting on moisturizer right now.”
“Great. My lips are dry.” He goes in for another kiss, and even though you’re giggling, trying to pull away from him, he still plants a peck on your soft skin. “Should I go for seconds, just for good measure?” He teases.
“Hmm, I guess so.”
“Oh? What’s with the change? Realize how much you can’t live without my touch?” He pulls you in closer to him, your back pressed firmly against his chest. He’s fresh out the shower, stray droplets of water greedily clinging onto his skin.
“Maybe.” You tilt your head back on the front of his shoulder so that you can see him. “You know your interview is trending on Twitter, right?”
“Oh, yeah? Bet Nakamura’s pissed.” Atsumu sounds too happy at the concept.
“No. There’s actually an interesting clip that keeps going around. Someone already used it as an intro for a thirst edit of you.”
You like it when Atsumu is thinking. There’s an adorable crease in between his furrowed brows, and you can practically see him going through the memory files in his brain, trying to figure out what could possibly be worthy of inspiring an edit of him.
“You seriously don’t know?” You’re laughing at him, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world. Atsumu doesn’t take kindly to being the butt of a joke, but from the moment he saw you, he knew he’d do anything to stay by your side, even becoming a fucking court jester if that’s what it took.
You reach for your phone on the counter, taking a few seconds to load up the fan edit you have favorited.
He’s burying his face in your hair, hiding away as he hears the audio of him going now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap playing on a loop. He groans when you let it replay, uncharacteristically shy as you keep telling him to watch it.
“The comments are the best part, though, baby!” You haven’t been able to stop giggling at jackingthejackalsoff’s very bold and very true statement of yeah, if i were [name], i’d pop out triplets for him too tf 😭🙏.
As Atsumu’s hands travel to rest against the growing swell of your belly, you tease him. “So, when the twins are born, do you think you’ll have enough space in your arms to haul all five of our kids, or should we finally use that baby chest carrier Shoyo gifted us?”
“I can carry all of ‘em and you onto that stage.” He regrets making this smug remark whenever you slightly drop your teasing tone and use what he dubs The Mom Voice on him.
“Oh? If that’s true, then why did it take you so long to realize Akimitsu crawled out of your arms while you were busy calling your opponents scrubs?”
“Have I ever told you what a wonderful mother you are? And this moisturizer! Wow, I don’t know what you’ve been doing with your skin, baby, but keep it up.” He’s peppering your face with more kisses, hurriedly trying to change the subject, and you gladly let him.
#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x reader#hq x reader#hq headcanons#fluff#one shot#drabble#hq fanfiction#atsumu headcanons#dad!atsumu#imagine#series: sweet everything
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Pond and Poetry
True Form Sukuna x Reader
Permission Universe ❤️
Rating: Mature
Wordcount: 1,358
Fluff! Flirt and a little bit of dirty talk… Soft Sukuna all the way tho.
Summary: Sukuna meets you in the garden, while you’re busy playing with Kois. And then you flirt. Just flirt. I got some Permission feels recently so I couldn’t resist to write this.
—
Warm sun on your skin and green grass beneath your figure, as you lay in front of the pond. Spring is here, the air is not cold and not warm, perfectly balanced by cold breezes and the warmth of the sun. Cherry blossoms start to bloom and small little wild flowers poke their head out of the ground.
Colourful Kois are swimming quietly in circles. Back and forth and left and right.
And you watch them with a thoughtful smile on your face, while you let the sun warm your figure. The sight reminds you of the time, when you and Ak-
When you were watching the Kois together.
The kimono you’re wearing is heating up with each minute, coating you comfortably. Supporting your head on your right hand, you reach with your left one into the cold water.
Your finger dips in, an attempt to touch one of those big fishes, that sometimes disappear beneath the reflection of the sun.
However, this reflection is interrupted, as suddenly your tall King steps onto the bridge next to the pond. Without greeting him and now having a better look at the Kois, you manage to brush your skin against the smooth surface of their scales. Your eyes light up and you smile.
“Got you.” you whisper quietly, as you see the outlines of familiar spiky hair and a huge figure imprint a shadow on the water.
You blink and finally look up to your right, seeing Sukuna’s gentle eyes looking down at you, his head being propped up on his right upper arm, just like yours. He’s wearing his Hakama pants and black cloak, while he leans against the balustrade of the bridge. He cocks his eyebrow at you.
“Childish brat.” he teases, flashing his teeth into a smirk. You huff, before you stick your tongue out at him.
“Let me.” you mutter, before you turn back to the Kois, as you keep twirling your finger in the water.
He huffs at your response, as he keeps watching you.
“Join me.” you continue almost inaudible, as you wiggle up your feet and swing them back and forth.
No response.
Except a pull on your heart. And you know what’s up.
You sigh, before you retrieve your hand from the water and tap with your palm on the spot next to you.
Two times.
Tap.Tap.
“Come.” you say softly, still not looking at him.
And you can feel his eyes boring into your figure and how his shit eating grin eats you up, before you hear him shift. Sukuna’s naked feet move over the wooden bridge, then through the fresh grass, until they come to a halt at the spot you pat on with your hand.
Don’t look at him.
One of his hand brushes against your moving left ankle, before you feel his foot gently push against your hip.
You ignore him.
He huffs again.
Unbothered, you dip your finger back into the water.
Another attempt of touching those colourful scales.
With a soft breeze, you finally feel him crouching down next to you.
More.
He takes a strand of your hair, fiddling it between his fingers. You quietly retrieve your finger from the water again and reach behind you.
“Closer, my Love.” you mumble softly, as you get a hold of his cloak and pull. One, two times.
And you can feel his grin again. You know he’s just watching you, waiting with what you’re coming up next.
It’s amusing to him. Actually... for the both of you.
To your surprise however, he leans down. His teeth find the shell of your ear for a moment, before he lays down to your left, on his stomach, just like you.
“They’re your gift for me after all.” you say with a satisfied grin on your face, still not looking at him.
As long as he’s this mute, giggling hunk of a man, you would rather admire the fish... And you know it’s a lie.
You have to force yourself to keep looking at those Kois, because you can’t get enough of him. Still.
After all this time.
Because you are his and he is yours. For now and all eternity.
“What now?” he whispers quietly in your ear, his pretty nose presses against the side of your head, taking in the scent of you and your hair.
“You’ll get a kiss if you can touch one of them.” you nudge your head to the pond, before turning your head to finally look at him.
His expression slackens and his lip rises into a mix of a sneer and pout, before he rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes. It makes you snort.
But, you catch yourself, trying to suppress a laughter.
Behave.
You lean over and with the index finger of your right hand, you give him a poke on his bottom lip.
“A kiss on your lips then.” you say cheekily, as if you just upgraded your offer significantly, while you watch how the shadows of the trees and the light of the sun dance with each other upon his facial features.
He blinks his crimson orbs open, still holding his unamused expression, as he grabs your right wrist.
Too much?
You inhale.
“A kiss on my lips then?” a new offer, using a mature voice this time.
A pause.
And a breeze, while he contemplates your new offer. You watch Sukuna’s hair move from the breeze, before his lip twitches. He pulls you closer. Close enough, to let his lips slightly brush over yours.
“A kiss on your lips it is.” he breathes. “And a kiss on your cheeks. And...”
“And?” you raise your eyebrows at him.
“...the sound of your thighs.” he concludes, brushing his nose against yours. “And how they mute my ears.”
Oh.
Heat rushes to the cheeks in your face and to the lips between your legs.
Heartache.
“Maybe you should write poetry.” you cock your head to the side, trying to act over your embarrassment and arousal.
“Maybe I should.” Sukuna smirks quietly in response, as his eyes pierce through you.
God.
You chew on your lip, as you lean back into your previous position and turn back to watch the fish in the water.
“There.” you dip your left finger back into the cold, as you watch him in the corner of your eyes, how he rolls back over on his stomach, leaving the black cloak laying in the grass.
Sukuna reaches for the water too, but his finger brushes over your hand first.
So gentle. So slow.
His touch feels electrifying, sending a feeling of home and love through your whole body.
Those fingers that killed many men and women and children. Those fingers that did such cruelty.
So soft against your skin. You focus and watch his hand closely.
And your heart starts racing.
His index finger follows the line of your hand, along your own finger and finally dips into the water as well. Sukuna’s hand stays resting upon yours, as you both slowly circle your fingers in the water.
It almost drives you insane.
The Kois keep dancing around your limbs, coming closer, swimming away again.
Sukuna quietly guides your hand closer to one of them. A gentle vibration flows through your hand and you notice how the fish grows slower in its movement.
Careful.
Your fingers brush against the scales. In unity. Along the whole length of the fish. “Got you.” he whispers against your hair, sending shivers through your whole body.
Sukuna then guides your whole hand underwater and turns it upside down, making it able for you to even hold the Koi for a few seconds, until it swims away again.
Your eyes light up again, as your heart is beating in your chest. And Sukuna pulls on it.
“Use me as your canvas.” you whisper, your voice almost trembling, wetness rising between your thighs, before you look back at him and his eyes falls to your lips.
“I will.” he stares and you stare back at his wrinkly eyes, before he leans closer. “Gonna write my poetry all over your body.”
—
lmk if you want to read how Sukuna’s poetry looks like ✌️
#sukuna#true form sukuna#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#nighty writes#drabbles#permission#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#true form sukuna smut#one shot
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The Alchemy
AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.
Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift
CW: Smut
Word Count: 6,871
Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.
It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.
Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.
Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.
Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows.
Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."
I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye.
"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script."
Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."
As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.
"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.
I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."
Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."
I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."
She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."
Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.
"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.
As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.
Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me.
I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength.
I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore.
Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.
Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head.
For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer.
That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.
As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.
"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."
I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.
But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."
Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.
The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.
Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.
"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."
I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response.
"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt.
Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement.
"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"
His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state.
"Cat got your tongue?" He teased.
I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt.
Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.
"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality.
"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class.
My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.
I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.
I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:
"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H
I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.
I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.
I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.
After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.
I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.
Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.
I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.
His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.
I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.
The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.
I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.
Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.
As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.
By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.
Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.
I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous.
"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy.
Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked.
I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me.
"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously.
Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.
I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly.
Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.
Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me.
I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field.
As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.
At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return.
In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.
As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.
"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.
"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.
"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.
Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game.
I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights.
"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly.
I tilted my head. "Why's that?"
He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."
Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions.
"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly.
Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...
But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise.
Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out."
He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.
As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.
I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.
A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.
As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.
Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."
I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."
Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."
He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.
"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."
I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."
Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."
We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.
I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.
Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.
The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.
Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.
His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore.
"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.
Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.
"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.
My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.
Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.
Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.
Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”
As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.
Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.
"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."
He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.
I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.
"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.
Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.
"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .
"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me.
My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.
"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts.
I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.
My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."
"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.
My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.
"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."
I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.
My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.
And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.
He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.
But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened.
As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."
I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate.
"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."
He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.
"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.
As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.
We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.
"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.
I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.
"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.
I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.
"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.
I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."
He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.
My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.
"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.
A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.
I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.
Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.
Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago.
“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.
As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.
The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.
Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.
His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.
The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.
I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.
Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.
One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.
I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.
Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.
He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.
Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.
"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.
"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."
Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.
“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.
“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”
The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.
I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.
He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.
The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.
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mr. and mrs. ~ oscar piastri
Summary: Wedding of the year is finally here between the two favorite youngsters on the grid. Everyone is invited!
Words: 1.3k+
Other works: my masterlist
♡♡♡♡♡
Oscar and Y/N.
Y/N and Oscar.
Everyone knew them, everyone loved them.
Ever since the young Australian lad had entered the Formula 1 world, Y/N had entered it with him. Always by his side, always attending his races while also attending university.
They had been together for many years, practically having invented the term “highschool sweethearts”. Despite Oscar’s busy schedule and Y/N being at university, they always made it work, never letting the distance affect their relationship.
Moving together to the UK had represented the first sign that they were both in it for the long ride. Packing up their entire lives and moving across the globe to follow their dreams proved that their relationship and the love they had was real.
Real and pure.
When Oscar got the opportunity to drive in Formula 1 and Y/N started her studies, the time they spent together shortened by a significant amount, but they managed to make it work.
They talked on the phone every day, texting when neither of them could speak on the phone, they took every opportunity to visit each other when they had free time, with Y/N visiting Oscar at his races or Oscar coming home when he would have 2 weeks off between races.
They made it work.
But Oscar wasn’t satisfied. He needed something more. He needed something that would put his mind at ease when he would be away.
He needed to officially make you his.
Towards the end of the season, you had a few weeks off uni and decided to join your boyfriend in Qatar for the Grand Prix.
You hadn’t really chosen the best race to attend, the heat and the humidity making it really strenuous on your already tired body. But seeing the smile that Oscar had while doing the grid walk with you by his side made it worth it.
Being there for Oscar’s sprint win had been the highlight of your entire year. Seeing him cross the checkered flag first, seeing his name on that first position on every monitor around the paddock, the feeling was unlike anything you had ever felt before.
Up until the moment Oscar got out of the car.
He made his way over to where you were waiting for him after he celebrated a little with the team, taking off his helmet and balaclava and giving them to one of his assistants.
“How about that?” he asked, chuckling as he pulled you into his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tightly because he was sweaty.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Os. I can’t believe I was here for your first win” you said, your voice muffled because you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.
“It’s technically not considered a win bec-”
“Shut up and enjoy the moment” you interrupted, making him chuckle and continue hugging you.
As he let go of you, you didn’t notice him reaching for something behind his back, not even his assistant subtly handing him something as he appeared again from the garage. All you could focus on was him, and nothing else around you.
It only really hit you when Oscar lowered himself down on one knee in front of you, a red velvet box in his hand.
“Oh my God” you said, your eyes widening and your hands flying up to your mouth.
All around you, the McLaren team gathered in a circle, phones ready and cameras rolling to catch the sweet moment on camera.
“Y/N, I don’t even know whether words will suffice to say what I want to say right now. You’ve been by my side since we were kids, you moved to the UK with me and left your entire family in Australia just for me, and I can’t even begin to explain how much that meant to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, I frankly don’t think I could survive on my own if you weren’t here. I want to grow old with you, I want to have kids with you and build the life we’ve always talked about having. Y/N, will you marry me?” the words got stuck in your throat, so you settled for nodding feverishly.
The entire team around you cheered, but you could only see Oscar. As he got up and slid the ring on your left hand, you threw yourself into his arms and softly cried, the moment far too emotional to be able to hold back.
Your engagement had become national news in a matter of a couple of hours. Every media channel from the world had written about Oscar’s proposal in Qatar, speculating about when the wedding would be and whatnot.
It didn’t even feel like it had really happened when you stared at the ring on your finger, the feeling foreign but so welcome and like it was meant to be.
You and Oscar had multiple talks about when you would get married, where you would have the wedding and many other problems that came with being away from home and everyone’s families.
Which is why you decided to have the wedding back home in Australia.
After the season was finished and the winter break came, you and Oscar had started planning the wedding, which you settled to have after the last race before the summer break. He had already sent invitations out to the rest of the drivers, all of them very eager to attend the young lad’s wedding.
Lando was especially thrilled, but couldn’t help making jokes about how he had never thought Oscar would be the one getting married so young.
“What did you do to him, Y/N? You charmed him pretty damn well” he’d always joke whenever you guys would hang out in the garage before a race.
Yours and Oscar’s mothers took care of most of the things regarding the venue, the flower arrangements and catering, wanting to take the load off of you while you were halfway across the world.
The only thing that you had to worry about was picking your wedding dress and flying over to Australia to get married.
And when the day had finally come, excitement flowed through your veins.
Nicole and Oscar’s sisters had helped do your hair and make-up, your mother only watching as she sobbed quietly in the background.
“Mom, you’re gonna make me cry too if you don’t stop” you told her as you watched her through your mirror, making the other girls laugh.
“I just can’t believe my baby is getting married” she laughed, wiping her tears and walking up to stand behind you.
You smiled and took her hand, mostly to calm your nerves as well.
You were really getting married. And to the love of your life, which was a plus.
After you were prepped and ready to go, your father came to fetch you to walk you down the aisle. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you held his arm tightly and clutched the flower bouquet tightly in your other hand.
But your nerves disappeared like they had never even been there when the doors opened and you locked eyes with Oscar waiting for you at the end of the aisle, Logan beaming behind him as his best man.
The ceremony went by in a blur, the only focus on your part being on Oscar. You only vaguely remembered saying your vows and saying “I do”, your memory only having imprinted the first kiss you two shared as husband and wife.
You were positive that nothing could ever top this moment, getting married with all of your friends and families present, stepping into your new life with Oscar by your side.
Nothing could ever be better.
Nothing could top you becoming Mrs. Piastri.
Being Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.
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I love the idea of Noah hating physical touch because I hate physical touch but you know what I love more?
Noah unknowing that he loves physical touch.
He’s always nudging people with his elbow, standing super close to them, sleep cuddling them, and he doesn’t even realize it.
Some examples: He nudges Owen a lot and that one time he nudged Tyler. Not to mention he hugged Bridgette and literally cuddled Cody kissing his ear. He doesn’t recoil when Duncan grabs his lip he just stands there. Him letting Izzy hold him. Etc, he just likes when it’s on his accord, hates when people hug him without him expecting it.
But one person does realize it.
Owen is talking about Noah to Alejandro, since he asked to get more information about him.
“And he hates physical touch! Sometimes he lets me hug him though! Man Noah is great!”
Alejandro tilts his head to the side curiously. “Excuse me for asking but are you sure he hates physical contact?”
“Uh yeah I’m pretty sure.”
Alejandro scratched his chin as he looked over at the sleeping Noah who was holding a jacket, probably Owen’s, like it was a person. ‘Interesting.’
In Newland Alejandro tests his theory as he reaches his hand out to Noah to help him on the boat. “Well done my little porpoises, here allow me.” Without really thinking Noah takes it and climbs up. Noah doesn’t really register the fact that he held grabbed Alejandro’s hand, or the fact that he stumbled so his hand rested on his chest, or that Alejandro’s hand hovered over his hip to secure him if needed. Noah didn’t think twice before chuckling slightly.
“Sorry, I think my boot got stuck on something.” Noah looked up nonchalantly at the other to see his face was slightly red. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Noah mocked him slightly before walking to one of the paddles.
Alejandro had his theory proven right as Noah held onto him longer then he needed too. The only problem was Alejandro didn’t want him to let go. He was right so why did he feel almost anxious, like his stomach was going flips.
#alejandro burromuerto#alenoah#alejandro x noah#noah#noah sterecra#gay ppl#td noah#total drama#tdwt#total drama world tour#fanfic#fic#ficlet#one shot#I wrote this in 10 minutes it’s bad I know but I love this idea#noah doesn’t even notice Alejandro’s feelings#neither does Alejandro!
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Enemies at Nine, Lovers by Five* | Part 2
Summary: Harry and Y/N suddenly need to fly out to Portugal for work and their boss only booked one (twin) room because the hotel was overbooked..
Pairing: Coworker!Harry x reader
Word count: 6.2K
Warnings: Unprotected sex, smut, slight dom if you squint, mentioned being a good girl maybe once, Y/N is a bitch but she likes it rough.
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A/N: I'm still very new to this enemies to loves trope so if its not as good, please don't come for me. Also, let me just tell you once again.. Wrap it before you tap it :')
The next day when Y/N arrives at work, Harry is already seated behind his desk. She doesn't even look at him as she sets her belongings down and settles into her own chair. The silence between them is deafening, and the tension is palpable. It's obvious that they're both thinking about what happened last night, but neither of them is willing to bring it up. It's as if they have silently agreed to pretend that it never happened.
It's a tense morning, but they somehow manage to finish the presentation they had to prepare for the board meeting later that day. After lunch, Y/N is seated in the conference room, anxiously waiting for the meeting to start. Harry is sitting next to her, his posture dominant and confident. He is sitting in the exact chair he pushed aside just hours ago to make room for him to kneel down and eat her out. Y/N swallows hard and forces herself to focus on the matter at hand.
The rest of the board members enter the room, and the meeting begins. Y/N starts the presentation, her voice shaking slightly as she talks about their company's progress. Harry watches her, his eyes glued to her lips. He can't help but imagine her beautiful mouth wrapped around his cock. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, willing himself to stay focused.
Harry gets up and walks over to the large screen, touching the small of Y/N's back in the process. It's the briefest of touches, but it sends a jolt of electricity through her body. She can feel her cheeks flushing, and she prays that no one will notice. Harry takes over the presentation, his voice steady and authoritative. She can't help but admire his confidence and command. She wonders if he feels the same way about her.
After the presentation is over, the board members file out of the room, their voices low and murmuring. Harry and Y/N are left alone once again. They gather their things and make their way to the door. Just before they exit the room, Harry turns to Y/N. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes tells her everything she needs to know. He wants her. And he's not going to stop until he has her.
Y/N swallows hard, her heart racing. She knows she should walk away, but she can't. She wants him too, and he is literally blocking her only way out. Her breath quickens, and she feels her resolve crumbling.
“You did so good.” Is all he says, before he exits the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Y/N has to admit to herself, his praise turns her on. She knows she should not allow this to happen, but she can't help herself. He's all she can think about. She makes her way back to her desk and finds Harry already returned to his own desk in front of hers.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” She asks, trying to act normal. Although this isn't normal for her at all. Y/N isn't the type of colleague to retrieve coffee for her coworkers. She prefers to be the one receiving it, not the one bringing it.
“Sure.” Harry says, his tone is neutral, not betraying any of his emotions. Y/N nods and leaves. The moment between them doesn't go unnoticed by their colleagues, and she can hear them whispering amongst themselves.
Y/N returns with two cups of coffee and hands one to Harry. Their fingers brush, and she feels a shiver run through her body. She hopes he doesn't notice.
“Thank you.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N.”
The way he says her name sends shivers down her spine. She can't help but remember the way he moaned it last night, his voice thick with desire. She bites her lip and turns away, willing herself to calm down.
“You're welcome.” She replies, trying to keep her voice steady. She busies herself with her work, but she can't focus. All she can think about is Harry and what happened between them. The memory of his touch and the way he felt inside her are burned into her mind, and she knows she will never be able to forget it.
***
“Fucking hell.” Y/N curses as she opens an incoming e-mail from their boss.
“What is it?” Harry asks.
“Check your mail.”
Harry does and curses too. The client for which they are currently working was supposed to fly in for their final presentation. Now they have to fly out to the client instead.
“That means we're going on a trip.” Harry says.
“I hate travelling.” Y/N groans.
“Come on, it could be fun.” Harry replies.
“Fun? I can't stand travelling and flying. It's the worst.” Y/N replies.
“Then let me distract you.” Harry whispers.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know exactly what I mean Y/N.” Harry says.
Y/N feels her heartbeat speed up, her body instantly reacting to his words. She knows exactly what he means, and the thought of it excites her. But she can't. Not again.
“Don't.” She says, her voice barely audible.
Harry doesn't say anything, just stares at her. His eyes are full of promise, and she can't resist. She knows she shouldn't, but she wants him. And he wants her too.
The e-mail also said how they can drop by their boss' office if they have any questions, he's supposedly available until 5 PM. Y/N and Harry make their way there. Even though they don't have any questions they knock anyway.
“Come in.” Their boss' voice sounds muffled through the closed door. Harry opens the door and Y/N quickly slips through, he swiftly closes the door behind him after he takes a good look at her round ass.
“Hey guys, thanks for stopping by. Let me just finish this e-mail real quick and then we can talk.”
He's sitting at his desk typing away furiously on the keyboard. It gives Y/N and Harry time to sit down on the couch on the other side of the room. Y/N is aware of how close they are, their bodies are nearly touching. She can feel the heat radiating off of him and it's driving her insane.
After a few moments, their boss ends his typing and comes over to sit across from them, facing the couch. He claps his hands together and begins to explain more details about the trip.
“So, we're going to have to fly the two of you out to Faro, Portugal. Your meeting is at the Ocean Mar hotel, which is also where you'll be staying. Unfortunately, they didn't have a lot of room options available so we had to book you a twin room instead of individual rooms. I know it's not ideal but hopefully, you guys will still have a great trip. You can put all food and drinks on the room's tab and they will just add it to the bill at the end of your stay. Do you have any questions so far?”
“Twin room?” Y/N says, almost like a question. She glances over at Harry and tries not to blush at the image of sharing a room with him.
“Yes, that's right. Two queen beds. Now, with the potential hotel mix-up, there is a chance that there may be some other rooms available last minute, so they are keeping an eye out and will try their best to switch you if necessary. But they also had to be upfront about their current room inventory for booking purposes, so I didn't want you to get your hopes up too much.”
“No, that's okay. I understand. Thank you.” Y/N says quietly. The thought of sharing a room with Harry, even a room with two beds, is a lot to process. They might have fucked once, but they aren't really the best of friends.
“You're welcome. You'll be flying out on Friday, so make sure to pack accordingly. You'll have some time to do some sightseeing if you'd like, the hotel is in a pretty nice area, and it's very touristy. And the big meeting is on Monday. Therefore we booked a return flight on Tuesday morning.” Their boss continues.
“Sounds good, thanks so much.” Harry replies, always the professional.
“Of course. I know this all happened last minute but I think you'll have a great time! I'll look forward to hearing all about it when you guys get back.”
“Thanks again!” Y/N says, and she and Harry get up to leave. They walk out of the office and back to their desks to pack up their stuff.
“Looks like we're going on a little vacation Y/N.” Harry says, grinning at her.
“Looks like it.” She replies, returning his smile. She can't deny that she is secretly looking forward to it.
***
Before they know it, it's Friday afternoon and they're heading towards the airport. Their boss arranged a taxi to pick them up and drive them there. Y/N is a wreck because she hates flying. She takes a deep breath as the plane gets ready to take off, gripping her seat and trying to relax.
Harry offers her his hand, which she gratefully accepts. They share a look as the plane takes off, and Y/N feels like maybe this flight won't be so bad after all. As the plane climbs higher into the sky, the tension between them builds. They are holding hands, staring at each other, both of them clearly thinking the same thing.
As the plane is in the air, the captain's voice comes on over the loudspeaker to welcome them.
“If I could have your attention, please. Welcome aboard EasyJet flight 239 to Faro, Portugal. My name is David, and I'll be your captain for today. The weather looks perfect for the trip ahead, and we're anticipating a smooth ride. Please enjoy your flight and thank you for flying EasyJet.” The voice cuts out as the plane stabilizes.
“See? That wasn't so bad.” Harry says. Y/N smiles, but she's not entirely convinced yet.
Harry orders himself a bottle of wine and offers to share it with Y/N. She reluctantly accepts, seeing as they are in fact, on vacation, and she could use a little bit of help to relax. The flight is about three hours long and goes fairly quickly. The wine helps, and they end up making a decent dent in the bottle.
Y/N is feeling relaxed and a bit tipsy by the time the flight ends. The cab pulls up and it's a short drive to their hotel. They check in and go up to their room to drop their bags. As Y/N opens the door and looks around, she finds that her stomach does a little flip. Sure enough, the room contains two beds, but they are quite close together. She swallows and tries to tamp down the feelings of excitement and anticipation growing in the pit of her stomach.
Harry doesn't say anything, but she can feel him watching her. They put their things down, quickly freshen up and head down to the restaurant for some dinner. After dinner, they decide to walk around the city and see some of the sights. It is relatively late at night but the sun is still setting and the sky is beautiful, and the temperature is warm and not too hot.
Y/N can't help but notice how close she and Harry are walking to each other as they make their way along the narrow streets, the sidewalks only big enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder. She tries to ignore the feeling and tells herself it's just because they need to stay close to make room for the other passersby. But the feeling lingers, a flutter of excitement.
It almost feels like they are two completely different people now that they are in a foreign country, with a warm summery breeze blowing through the air, the sound of music and laughter in the distance. Everything seems romantic and fresh, the air itself feels charged with possibilities and tension. It's as if they both subconsciously feel this and it makes it easier for them to navigate their strange new dynamic.
After their little stroll around town, they return to their hotel and head up to their room. They both take turns to use the bathroom and get ready for bed, not sharing a word with each other as the reality of sleeping just inches away from each other starts to set in. Before going to sleep they both sit down on their own bed, on their own respective sides.
Harry and Y/N finally lie down on their own beds in silence, both tired from the day's excitement. As Y/N pulls the blankets up and tries to get comfortable, she can't help but toss and turn, unable to find the perfect position. She sighs loudly and shifts again, her mind racing.
“You okay?” Harry asks, his voice low and deep.
“Yes. No.” She replies.
“What's wrong?”
“I'm fine, I just can't seem to fall asleep.”
“Me neither.” Harry replies. Y/N laughs softly. She can't believe that she and Harry are having this conversation, and can't believe that she's even admitting that she can't fall asleep. She turns around and finds Harry already staring at her, his eyes dark and full of intensity. Her breath hitches as the weight of the moment settles upon them.
“I think it's the plane.” She whispers, half-hoping that he'll leave the subject alone.
“You think?” Harry chuckles, he already knows she's full of shit. It's like he can feel the tension running from her body. “Y/N.”
A jolt goes through her body at the way her name sounds coming out of his mouth, the roughness and almost demanding tone. “W-what?”
“Come here.”
“Harry...”
“Come here.” Harry repeats, raising his voice slightly, letting his tone show how serious he is. And damn her but the dominant edge does something to her. She bites her lip and gets up to join him on his bed. He already has his duvet pushed to the side. When she finally slips underneath, he immediately gathers her up in his arms and buries his face in her neck. She doesn't fight it, instead, she wraps her arms around him and enjoys his warmth.
Luckily both of them had the decency to wear pajamas. Y/N is in a silk shortama set and Harry is wearing a plain white shirt and some sweat shorts. Being this close to him feels dangerous. He smells so good, and the weight of his muscular body pressed against hers is intoxicating.
“Thank you.” Y/N whispers after a few minutes of silence.
“For what?” Harry asks, his voice thick and laced with sleep. She shrugs.
“Just... for understanding. For not being mean to me.” She says.
“Mhm, see, you got that wrong there. I've never been the mean one.” He mumbles against her neck.
“Excuse me?” She replies, sounding as offended as a sleepy person can be.
“You're not a walk in the park, love.” He chuckles as he snuggles her closer to his chest.
“And you are?” She manages to get out, stifling a yawn.
“I guess not. But who cares? We're in Portugal, might as well have fun.”
“Fun.” She repeats softly.
“Yeah. For example, what's it called when you fuck your coworker and then you're sent off on a work trip and end up in the same hotel room?” He says, his lips now grazing the shell of her ear.
“A disaster?” She whispers.
“Or fun.” He hums before a big yawn escapes his mouth, shortly followed by her own.
Both of them stay quiet, with Harry holding her tightly and Y/N enjoying his embrace. Harry doesn't show it, but his heart is hammering in his chest. He knew that inviting her into his bed would make them repeat the past. Even as the distance between them closes, he tries to keep his cool. He fails. Miserably. He plants his soft lips on top of hers and kisses her.
Softly. Innocently.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says as he disconnects their lips.
***
The next morning Y/N and Harry wake up tangled in each other's limbs. And as if she doesn't remember what happened last night, Y/N freaks out. She throws a handful of curses around and rushes into the bathroom to freshen up.
“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” She shouts at Harry through the door.
“Well, for starters it's my bed. You joined me in my bed.” He replies. She can basically hear him smirk. Fucker.
“Whatever.” She says. She opens the bathroom door and comes out with her toothbrush hanging from her mouth. “I'm mad at you.”
“Come back to bed, you're overreacting.”
“You jerk.”
“For the last time, it was your ass that came into my bed. Now, for the love of God, stop being such a bitch or do you need me to boss you around again?” His voice rings like a gentle threat. She smacks her lips together and avoids eye contact.
“No.”
“Jesus Christ, woman. I've been nothing but nice to you and you're...” He scoffs and it feels like she's back home. She can't help but grin. A small grin, but it's there. He notices and scowls at her. “Now you're laughing?”
“Harry, just...”
“Don't make me drag you back to bed so I can fuck a little sense into you because I promise you I will if that's what it takes.”
Y/N walks back into the bathroom to wash her toothbrush. “Get the fuck over yourself Styles.”
“Have it your way.” Harry growls from the bed. The tension in the air changes. He's fully aware of the fact that he basically threatened her but she loves it. Fuck, she even hopes he'll do what he said. Before she knows it, Harry's behind her, holding her in his strong grip, her back to his front.
“Ready to apologize?” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She closes her eyes and leans back against him, relaxing in his arms. She can feel the press of his hard cock against her lower back, and the knowledge that she turned him on sends a thrill through her body.
“I'd never.” She whispers, teasing him. She knows that Harry loves a good challenge. His hand comes around her throat, long fingers wrapping gently around her neck. She breathes a sigh and stretches her neck, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. Her body is completely surrendered to him, and a light shiver runs through her.
“I wasn't joking, Y/N.” He squeezes her neck slightly. “Do you need a reminder?”
“Of what?”
“Of how much of a good girl you can be. Or how submissive you actually are. How your pussy practically drips when someone touches you exactly the way you need.” His low voice rumbles through her.
“Fuck, Harry.” She gasps, arousal pooling between her thighs as his words send a jolt of desire through her. She can't help but arch her back, exposing her neck and pressing her ass against him even more.
His lips latch onto the exposed skin of her neck, sucking a mark into her flesh. He tightens his grip on her neck slightly, her breath coming in short gasps. Harry growls, mumbling darkly against her skin. She tries her best to stay standing, especially as her knees threaten to buckle under the touch of his hand. “Such a good girl. Undress yourself and go lie on the bed, now.”
She nods, his hand dropping from her throat as she moves toward the bed. Harry's eyes never leave her, watching as she strips down to her underwear. She settles on the bed, unsure of where to position herself. Without another word, Harry walks towards her, a dangerous glint in his eyes. She swallows hard as he grabs the neck of his shirt to pull it over his head.
“Let me make myself clear.” Harry's voice rasps. “You're going to be nice to me from now on. Especially here in Portugal. Do I make myself clear? I don't feel like wasting my time here when it could be so, so sweet.”
Y/N stares up at him, transfixed. Her lips part, her eyes wide as he slowly starts pulling down his sweat shorts. The realization of what is about to happen sinking in. Harry was on the rougher side with her the first time they fucked, but she didn't know he could be this dominant, this aggressive, and god did it turn her on.
Without another word, Harry stalks over to her and grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head. He presses his hips down against hers, his naked body flush against her almost-naked one. His lips claim hers in a rough kiss, and Y/N can't help but moan into his mouth. “You like that, don't you?”
Y/N nods, whispering a soft yes.
Harry trails his lips down her jaw, peppering open-mouthed kisses along her neck. He finds his spot below her ear and starts to suck a dark mark there. He doesn't care about the visibility of the marks as their meeting with the client isn't until Monday. Y/N's breath comes in sharp pants as she tries to stay still, her mind going fuzzy with desire. Harry lets her wrists go but the fear of punishment makes her not move them away from their position.
“Mmm.” He hums, obviously pleased with her obedience. Harry grazes his lips over the top of her chest, reaching around to unhook her bra and slide it off. Her body arches up into his, craving his touch. He continues his trail of kisses, leaving a wet path as his mouth finds one of her sensitive nipples.
He swirls his tongue around the hardening peak, kissing and biting gently. He shifts his hips slightly, sliding one of his legs between hers. He glances up at her, her eyes already closed in pleasure as he moves his hands to pinch at her other nipple.
Harry's hand trails down, fingers fiddling with the hem of her panties. Slowly he removes them, revealing her already wet cunt. Harry smiles and sits up to admire her exposed body. “Turn around.”
She immediately rolls over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. Without warning, Harry spanks her, causing her to yelp and lift her head from the pillow. “Fuck.” She moans, the burn of his hand on her skin spreading a wave of pleasure straight through her.
He growls, unable to tear his eyes from her perfect ass. Y/N moves her hands to grip her fingers in the soft blankets beneath her, as Harry suddenly pushes his middle finger into her dripping centre. Her hips jerk against the bed involuntarily, seeking more contact.
“You're soaking, baby.”
“Fuck, Harry, please.” She whispers, beyond turned on. He starts a torturously slow rhythm, sliding his finger in and out of her warm cunt. She buries her face back into the pillow again and braces herself for a second spank that never comes.
“It's pathetic how wet you get from basically nothing. Just let me play with your nipples and you're gone.” He grabs her ass, his thick fingers digging into the soft flesh. “But you like that, don't you?” He finishes by giving a firm smack to her asscheek, causing a whimper to escape her lips.
“I want to hear you. Lift your face, love.” Harry whispers. She lifts her head, propping her chin on the edge of the pillow. Harry raises his body up on his knees, one hand still dipping his fingers in and out of her pussy while the other hand comes around to cover her mouth.
As Y/N tries to silence her whimpers, Harry easily slips another finger inside her slick entrance. She moans louder now, the vibrations reverberating through Harry's palm and urging him to go deeper, faster. He dips his head down to lightly bite her shoulder, earning him another deep moan as his rock-hard cock presses into her buttcheek.
“Let the neighbours know how much you enjoy getting fingered. Make sure they hear just how much you love my touch.”
“Fuck, Harry. You feel so fucking good. Oh!” She cries out as Harry increases his pace, moving his free hand down to her hip, gripping her roughly. He quickly removes his fingers from her sloppy pussy and Y/N whines at the loss.
“Did I ask you to complain?” He asks as he grabs her hips with both hands and juts her upward. Her ass now up in the air with her chest still pressed into the sheets. It feels submissive, her ass being up as if she is presenting her pussy to him. Not like he needs her to, he knows exactly where her pussy is.
“N-no.” She manages to answer.
“Good.” Harry grabs his cock, already leaking pre-cum and lines himself up. Without any warning, he thrusts into her, moving his hands from her hips to her waist, thrusting in and out at an ever-increasing speed. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoes in their hotel room and her eyes squeeze shut, as Harry does not hold back, pounding her into the mattress.
Y/N lets out a loud groan, burying her face in the pillows again to muffle her cries. But Harry's having none of it. He collects her hair and wraps it around his left hand, firmly yanking her head upwards, forcing her to keep her head up. A gasp escapes her lips, and her hands scratch at the blankets.
“Mmm, fuck!” She whines, her eyes tearing up from the feeling. Pleasure flows through her. She doesn't think he's ever fucked her this hard, and damn is she enjoying it. He's hitting deep spots inside her cunt she didn't even know existed, and the bruises he is sure to leave later are absolutely welcome.
Harry's thrusts continue, showing absolutely no signs of slowing. His cock pounds in and out of her, eliciting a high-pitched whine from her with each thrust. He pulls on her hair harder, angling her head so he can see her face as she's struggling to keep quiet. She keeps her eyes tightly shut, trying desperately to mask her groans of pleasure.
“Tell me how much you like taking my cock.” Harry says, his voice strained. “Tell me how badly you needed this. Tell me how much you love being my little slut.”
Y/N's body heats up at his words, her toes curling, and she silently curses him for making her talk. “I-I needed- ah- this so badly.”
“Shit, baby, yes. Say it again.”
“God, Harry, I need you- s-so fucking bad. Fuck.” She writhes beneath him, trying to escape the delicious torture. His pace is unforgiving, and his force hits her in just the right spots. His thrusts jerk her whole body, the loud smacking of their sweaty bodies colliding the only sound filling the room.
“Oh God!” She moans loudly, as Harry wraps one arm around her torso and pulls her up, his hand resting dangerously low on her throat.
“You need this, huh? This little cunt needs to be filled up?”
“Ah! Fuck, Harry.” She murmurs before a broken moan falls out of her. Her right hand holds onto his wrist tightly and her head falls back against his shoulder, her jaw slack in pleasure. She can feel her orgasm building within her, as this new position allows his dick to hit her G-spot repeatedly, shooting pure euphoria through her.
“Mhm, do you feel it? Right here?” He asks, one of his hands slipping down her body and pushing down on her lower stomach. She gasps, tears pooling in her eyes at the sensations he creates. Harry's hand slips further down her body, eventually reaching her most sensitive bundle of nerves and pushing gently against it.
“Ah!” A choked cry leaves her mouth and she freezes in his arms. She tries to catch her breath but all she feels is pleasure. Before she can stop herself, her head starts rolling against his shoulders, her mouth dropping open in a silent scream.
“That's it, baby. Come for me, wet my cock.” He groans in her ear as her hips start jerking, and her loud moans fill the room. “C'mon, scream for me.”
Y/N thrashes her head, eyes squeezing shut. A harsh cry leaves her as his rhythm continues, but her movements lose the rhythm, becoming uncoordinated. White light fills her vision, and an earth-shattering climax hits her, rolling over her and stealing her breath. Her orgasm floods her veins, every nerve ending lit up in ecstasy.
“Ooh fuck. Har... Shit!” Her hoarse voice bounces off the walls, the strength quickly leaving her body. Harry's arm stays tight around her, preventing her body from falling down onto the bed.
Harry removes his fingers from her clit, and Y/N relaxes into his embrace, humming happily as she catches her breath. Harry takes the opportunity to let her fall back down onto the mattress, his hands holding her hips steady as he slowly keeps thrusting into her.
Y/N cranes her neck around, her face flushed and expression smug. Harry tightens his grip, as he forcefully pushes his dick into her once more, her head falling forward at the feeling. Before he pulls out, slapping her ass once more before he roughly pushes her onto her back.
She is positioned with her shoulders on the edge of the comfortable bed, causing her head to hang slightly. She groans, her arms reach back to grab a hold of the blankets beneath her. Just as her grip tightens, Harry grabs her knees, pulling them apart and position her feet on either side of him, spreading her thighs apart.
He lines himself up with her wet entrance and pushes back into her, the new angle causing his dick to brush her sweet spot over and over again. She throws her head back, as her breasts bounce on her chest and she lets out a loud groan. Harry raises her leg up, her calf on his shoulder, foot resting on his collar bone.
“Holy shit.” He breathes, eyes firmly locked on her chest, and how erotic she looks. Her eyes meet his in surprise. She cries out in pleasure as Harry thrusts into her deeply. “You're so fucking perfect.”
She closes her eyes again, unable to handle the intensity in Harry's face as he whispers words of praise, calling her perfect, telling her how good her pussy feels around his dick. Harry grunts and the sound mixed with her pants, curses, and moans fills the room.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” She moans as his thrusts quicken, his brows furrowed and eyes closed tightly in concentration, and then moans spill from his lips.
“I-Oh my god-fuck baby, you feel so fucking good...”
“H-Harry.” She whines, voice uneven. She closes her eyes, feeling her inner walls flutter around Harry's thick cock. Harry readjusts his grip on her hips, pulling her closer. He moves one of his legs, widening his stance to give himself better leverage. To allow his thrusts to grow faster and stronger, Y/N's quiet noises change. They turn into loud moans and choked whimpers.
“T-too- Oh, too much.”
“You can handle this.” He croons, his voice strained and heavy. She nods, and Harry quickens his pace even more, angling his dick so he constantly rubs against that one spot. “God, your tits look so fucking good with how much they move. Drives me crazy.”
Her nipples are hard, grazing her skin and sending white-hot pleasure coursing through her. Harry reaches down and cups one of her breasts, her hand coming up to join him. She moans and writhes beneath him, throwing her head back when his thumb moves over her nipple, teasing it.
She whimpers, pussy clenching around his cock, suddenly overwhelmed by Harry's assault of pleasure. As soon as Y/N realizes what's happening, she brings her hand to her clit. She slips her hand between her thighs and starts circling her clit in a continuous pattern. She moans weakly, feeling herself clench down on Harry, letting him know how much his actions were working.
“Did you ask if you could do that?” Harry grits out, his hips pounding into her relentlessly. Y/N shakes her head but refuses to stop. Her fingers never break their movement.
“You're about to come again, aren't you? Holy shit- oh my fucking... Fuck, you little slut.” He whispers harshly, but he couldn't care less about her getting herself off at this point. She would if he'd stopped her, but it was undeniable that it turned him on, even more, knowing how eager she was to be stimulated while he took what was his.
“P-please, H.”
“Mhm.” His hips stutter slightly, as his focus wavers for a split second. “Do it.”
She whimpers, as she continues rubbing. Her hand moves in time with his movements as Harry gives himself completely over to lust. He slams his hips into hers, burying himself to the hilt on every thrust. He swears loudly, breath heavy and panting. He can hear her fingers on her clit rubbing incessantly, making it harder for him to hold back.
“Jesus Christ! It's... Fuck... Baby. Let go.”
A long, high-pitched moan falls from her lips as she throws her head back, cunt clenching around Harry's throbbing cock as she rides out her second orgasm of the day. Her right hand flies away from her clit as Harry sets a quick, punishing pace. She knows he is almost there, just needs a little more.
“Harry. C'mon. Come inside me.”
“Fuck, Y/N. You know I can't.” His mind is frantic, her words bring him one step closer to tipping over the edge. “That little mouth of yours will have to do it.”
It takes her a couple of seconds to realize what he means. She slides off the bed, a pleasurable shiver running through her, straight to her core as her feet touch the cold floor. It doesn't help her overheated body at all. She slowly gets down onto her knees. Her gaze meets his and the world stops for a second as their eyes meet, the tension running high between them.
Y/N is completely in his element now, not just doing what he wants but giving herself over fully. Harry reaches down, wiping a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear before grasping the back of her head. He runs his thumb over her lips, caressing her skin before pushing her lips apart. She slowly licks her tongue over his thumb.
“Good girl.” He quickly pushes his length into her mouth, straight to the back of her throat. His eyes roll back as he struggles to control himself. Y/N gags, her eyes watering up. Harry reluctantly pulls back just far enough to let her breathe through her nose.
The taste of her essence combined with the salty taste of Harry's pre-cum fills her mouth. She eagerly hollows her cheeks as Harry pumps his hips against her, not allowing her much time to think or move. She rolls her eyes back into her head, and she loses herself to her pleasure as he chases his own climax.
“Oh fuck. I-shit...” His thrusts are growing slightly uneven and without warning, he thrusts all the way into her mouth and pushes down on the back of her head, forcing her to take his entire length. His warm cum spills into her, thick and sweet on her tongue. Y/N eagerly swallows him down, looking up at him with teary eyes.
Harry shudders at the feel of her throat against his sensitive tip. His breathing slows slightly. “Ah.” He winces, letting go of her head and sliding out of her warm mouth. Causing a string of saliva mixed with cum to connect the tip of his dick to her mouth.
She sits down on the hotel room floor on her knees, panting for breath and her head spinning as she attempts to collect herself. Harry slides his finger over her chin, collecting some of his semen which is still dripping down her chin and sliding it onto her lips. She eagerly licks her mouth clean and the sight makes his blood surge through his veins, his heart thudding away in his chest.
“Good girl.” He presses lightly against her lower lip, but his eyes remain trained on hers. Y/N's expression softens, and as Harry removes his finger from her mouth, she lets her head drop down as if she can't even stand looking at him anymore. But the slightest tinge of pink on her face betrays her.
“Looks like you actually enjoy doing what I say.”
Y/N chuckles as her mind begins to race again. Suddenly she doesn't mind one bit that she has to share this room with Harry for the next couple of days.
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Y/N: yeesh, how do the villains always seem to know where we are?
Dick: y/n did you remember to set your Twitter to private?
Y/N:
Dick: y/n you set it to private right
Y/N:
Dick: y/n
This is based off something I saw a few years ago, creds :)
#batfam#dick grayson#one shot#jason todd#damian wayne#incorrect batfamily quotes#tim drake#batfamily#batman#bruce wayne#x reader
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Red Breath
Summary: Azula has been hiding that she has tuberculosis. Her secret comes out during the last Agni Kai.
For @the-mariachi-96 based on this post.
There is red on her pillow.
There is red on the cloth in her pocket.
She tries not to dwell too much upon it.
Today is her special day.
The mirror has no mercy.
No sympathy nor compassion.
It is a cold thing, and—had it a voice—it would speak clinically. Forward. Direct. Brutal.
In its own way it does have a voice and it speaks through images it reveals and the inner monologue that it inspires from the looker. Sometimes it is pleasant, mostly it is mundane and indifferent. These days it has been cruel; it shows Azula that she has been deteriorating steadily and rapidly.
That something that was already well out of her control has spiraled much further beyond it. Either her skin has grown sallow or the palace’s warm lighting is making her complexion look more sickly than it truly is. For certain she has grown thinner, her robes had always fit rather large on her frame for comfort’s sake. Now they are too baggy for comfort. Sleep and illness have put bags under her eyes too.
She touches her fingers to her cheek, the texture of her skin is not quite right, but that could be because she hasn’t been drinking enough. Her cheekbones are more prominent beneath her fingers.
She wants to blame Mai and TyLee.
If they hadn’t chosen Zuzu…
If they hadn’t left…
Since finding out, they have always kept her fed and comfortable.
She grits her teeth. It is her own fault for letting them care for her instead of learning to care for herself by herself.
Even if they were there to feed her, she probably wouldn’t want to eat anyhow. The sickness is getting worse and it is stealing her appetite, her comfort, her strength, her motivation, and, most pressingly, her future.
Her well kept secret is finally unraveling and she is glad that father isn’t around to witness it, that nobody is around to see it, she had made certain of that. And she starts to wonder…
She is always wondering, speculating, or overthinking about something or another.
This time she ponders exactly what is to blame for her fraying mind, the fog within it, and the things that it shows her—the things that aren’t truly there.
Can tuberculosis cause paranoia and hallucinations or was it the loss of Mai and TyLee that has put her mind of kilter. If the former is to be blamed then it might be that she is reaching her last days. And, by the spirits, it seems to have come about so quickly. She knows that she doesn’t want to be alone when she takes her last red, labored breath.
Her chest hurts.
Her lungs burn.
She is afraid to die.
But she is afraid to breathe.
.oOo.
To some degree, she wonders what the purpose is. Of the crown. Of this new title. Of anything really. Azula will be dead soon and she knows it. So why then? Why bother letting them fix the crown into her hair? A sense of duty, she decides, and to make father proud right to the very end. Her nation depends on her, especially now, with the comet barreling towards the world. Her firebending is charged, she can feel it in her core, but she is no longer certain that she could withstand its power.
The Fire Sages hover the crown just above their head, they are just about to decree that she is the new firelord. She closes her eyes and when she opens them, Zuko is in front of her with the waterbender at his side and the bison behind him.
Surely she is delirious with fever.
But no, the Fire Sages are exchanging looks.
Her already burning chest, flares with hatred. Resentment for the person who had taken her mother from her and then her friends. For the person who now wants to steal her crown—the very last thing that she has.
She is in no condition for an Agni Kai, but she will fight all the same.
She will fight to keep what is hers, fight for her nation, and fight for her honor. She will fight for her vengeance. She will fight for her friends—surely Mai and TyLee will understand then, how much they mean to her.
She rises to her feet, her head is already spinning.
Dear Zuzu has already accepted her challenge. Her fate, whatever it may be, is sealed.
She closes her eyes and hopes that her coughing will subside just long enough for her to win this fight.
She takes a labored breath and she takes a stance. She feels that breath, scratchy and searing. Like sandpaper dragging all the way down her throat. She holds herself rigid and ready in spite of it.
Zuko makes the first strike, a powerful blast of orange flames that heat her face from well across the arena. She returns with a burst of her own blue and equally as scorching, if not more so. It isn’t a fair match; not in numbers, not with her state of mind, not with her state of health. She supposes that she has made her share of sneaky, honorably questionable maneuvers. A war is a war and it will not stop because she is feeling ill.
And so she throws blast after blast until the chills start to wrack her body. Even then, she pushes onwards. Even then she wields her fire as she always had. But the more the smoke fills her lungs, the more agitated they become.
She can feel the fit coming on.
“What, no lightning today? Afraid I’ll redirect it?”
It is bait and she should know better.
But it is an excuse; an excuse to end this match once and for all, before tuberculosis ends it for her.
Perhaps this will be the last thing that she does. She wonders if Mai and TyLee will miss her. Or if they will be relieved to know that she is gone. The lightning crackles on her fingers and the fever crackles in her body.
Both will be released, only one will claim its target.
She sends the lightning off as disease rushes forward. Her lightning falls short, it splits the ground with a rumbling crack. It launches Zuko violently towards the other end of their arena. And it launches her body into a violent fit. Her coughs come on with such merciless furocity that it leaves her stomach aching and her body hunched forward.
She can feel the blood behind her teeth. If she parts her lips, it will drip onto the ground. Perhaps not a dramatic spatter, but two or three little droplets.
She glances at her right hand.
It is bloodied.
She glances at the battleground.
At two alarmed faces.
And then she sees nothing at all.
.oOo.
Azula’s vision is fuzzy. There are figures around her bedside and she can’t tell who is who. She thinks that they are probably doctors. The same ones who have been attending her since she’d come home. The ones that Lo and Li had found for her.
Her throat hurts and her head is woozy.
Sounds hurt.
Bright light hurts as it streams through the window. A glorious light spills over her face but she has not earned glory.
The comet has passed and so to has her coughing fit. But the tingling in her throat remains as a souvenir of her suffering and her lungs don’t seem that keen on expanding fully. For it, when her lips part, her breath comes out in a labored hiss.
“Aang should be here soon, he can help with that.” It takes Azula a moment to recognize that voice as the waterbender’s. But of course. She might not be here if not for waterbending. And for the life of her, Azula can’t understand why Katara would help her. Especially when Zuko had also been harmed. Perhaps he hadn’t taken a direct hit but the lightning had fallen at his feet and the shockwaves had thrown him a respectable distance.
Katara likes him better anyhow.
Everyone does.
“Mai and TyLee?” Azula mannages.
“They’ll be here soon.”
But she can’t imagine that they will want to talk to her. They are probably coming for Zuzu, to check on and comfort him.
“I’m cold.” She mentions. But she is also terribly hot, her face has a thin film of sweat.
“You have a fever.” Katara replies. “But I think that you know that. How long?”
“How long, what?”
“How long have you known?” And then she elaborates. “That you were sick.”
“None of your…” she falters into a half cough. “Of…” another half cough. “your…” And then there is the first full cough. Finally another fit comes on in full. Silent tears leak down her cheeks, more so the product of physical strain than any emotion.
Katara hands her a glass of water. “Drink that. After you swallow I’m going to bend that water and try to soothe the inside of your throat. It will probably feel weird, but it won’t hurt…”
It wouldn’t matter if it did, her throat is already sore.
“...And you won’t drown.”
Fleetingly it crosses her mind, that maybe she would be perfectly content drowning. She drinks the glass and Katara takes hold of the water. The sensation is terribly unpleasant, like nothing she has ever felt. Like nothing she ever wants to feel again. But then her burning throat cools and the sharpest of pangs taper off.
Katara lowers her hands. “No more talking, okay? You’ll agitate your throat.” Katara says. “Just rest.”
Azula nods.
“Zuko is in the bed next to you. Both of his feet are bandaged and he’s got a concussion so he won’t be walking for a little while.” Katara informs. “Mai and TyLee and my friends are on their way. You can go to sleep, I’ll wake you up when they get here.”
But she won’t be able to sleep. Her head is too preoccupied with troubled thoughts; knowing that she had failed her people and her father, knowing that she has lost everything including Mai and TyLee, knowing that her carefully guarded secret is now in the hands of the enemy. The enemy that is fixing her blankets for her and putting a cool rag on her forehead.
“Why?” Her voice is so hoarse. Hoarse and whispery, nothing like the elegant silk it had been.
“Because, you don’t deserve to die.”
It is a simple and impersonal answer. But it is just as well.
“I think that things can be different.” Katara adds. “Now that the war is over.”
Different.
She doesn’t particularly like ‘different’.
She thinks that she might be afraid of ‘different’.
Even if ‘different’ could be better for her.
“Get some rest, okay. I’m going to keep waterbending and I’ll have Sokka reach out to this herbalist that we met in Taku; she’s very knowledgeable and she has this troublemaking cat.”
“Miyuki?” Azula grumbles.
“You know Miyuki?”
Azula nods.
“Does that have anything to do with how Miyuki got in trouble with the Fire Nation?”
Another nod.
“That’s a story that you’re going to have to tell.”
“You said no talking.” Azula dodges.
“Later on.” Katara replies. “Right now, just get some rest. We’ll figure out how to treat your tuberculosis.”
Azula nods once more. Perhaps she will get to live a full lifetime afterall. She just isn’t certain of what sort of life it will be.
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POLIN JEALOUSY/ADVICE ONE-SHOT
Colin fights his jealousy after watching Penelope and Lord Debling dancing together at a ball, is teased by Benedict, and seeks advice from Violet.
The silver beads threading Penelope's hair seemed to glow like tiny moons. If he'd had parchment and pen, Colin might've noted the perfect juxtaposition of fiery red locks and sparkling silver. He noticed everything--the way her dress swayed so effortlessly against the floor despite her stiff grip on Lord Debling. Was it only Colin's imagination, or did her gloved fingertips hover an inch from his shoulders?
…perhaps he was only imagining it. He reminded himself that Penelope's stiffness was for the sake of propriety. Of course she’d want to touch Debling. He was a gentleman, for one, and even Colin had to admit that he had his own upper-class swagger. A little posh for Colin’s tastes, but from the looks being cast his way across the ballroom floor, Colin knew the lord had made a lasting impression on this season’s eligible debutantes.
Colin hastened for a sip of wine, only to discover that he had drained his glass. He turned away as a certain red-headed beauty twirled across the floor (more gracefully than he had ever allowed himself to notice). He nearly dropped his glass as he struck Benedict in the chest.
“Steady there, brother,” Ben said, putting a hand against Colin’s heaving chest. “What’s the hurry?” He cast a glance over Colin’s shoulder, and the pieces seemed to fall into place. “I’ll say, your friend seems to be enjoying herself. If ‘enjoying yourself’ is best expressed by a scowl, that is.” He tipped his glass. Colin shot him a glare, even though his heart lifted a bit at this last sentiment.
“Oh, don’t be such a grouch,” Ben said, pushing his glass into Colin’s available hand. “While you’re at the table, fetch me another drink, won’t you?”
“I’m not your waiter,” Colin huffed, stifling the urge to turn back to the dance floor once more. It was like an itch, only scratching it burned like a rash.
“You could do with a break. Somehow my ‘sturdy’ little brother has spent the night looking quite pathetic in the corner.”
“I’m not pathetic,” Colin said, and pain tightened his chest.
Ben rolled his eyes, still looking across the dance floor. “Say, maybe I ought to have a word with this Debling fellow. See if his eye for art is as keen as his eye for a wife.”
“Give him my best,” Colin grumbled, sounding more pathetic by the second.
Benedict gave him a sturdy pat on the shoulder. “And you, give Ms. Featherington your best while I do it. Now, hurry along now and get those drinks before the dance is over.” With a wink, he rejoined the sea of lords and ladies.
Colin gazed across the open floor once more. The waltz was approaching its conclusion. Pen’s hair looked on fire in the torchlight. His mind wandered to the fragments of a dream—Pen in the garden, her eyes twinkling a magnetic blue, her lips a luscious pink. He had leaned in just enough to catch the scent of her hair—like the wisteria garden, only…newer, fresher, somehow, and then—
“Colin, dear. Are you feeling alright?” His mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Her brow furrowed, and he hurried to right himself, as he had taught himself to do long before Penelope had pounded her way into the forefront of his mind.
Some things, it seemed, had not changed. He had a guard up, and even his beloved mama could not crumble it.
“Very well, mother,” he managed, swaying slightly on his feet. “Merely...looking for a refill.”
“Not feeling up to a waltz tonight, I take it?” The look she gave him suggested she knew there was a particular reason for it—Colin was not one for skipping dances.
He had been avoiding his mother, he realized. Was that a flicker of hurt in her eyes? More than his brothers or sisters, Violet Bridgerton had always had an eye out for these things. And if that was the case, should he not be using her knowledge to his advantage?
“Mother,” he began, aware of the blush suffusing his cheeks. “Forgive me, I know we are in company, but I must ask. Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?”
She smiled, crinkling the skin around her eyes. Lovely eyes, so open and trusting. He suddenly hated himself for having avoided her, even if it was unintentional. Perhaps it was because of this conversation that he had kept himself from her.
And something told him that she knew this as well as she whispered, “I think you already know the answer to that.”
#bridgerton#polin#bridgerton season 3#polin bridgerton#lord debling#polin fanfiction#polin one shot#one shot#Penelope featherington#Colin bridgerton#polin fanfic#Bridgerton fanfiction
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sweet everything, atsumu miya ; one shot collection
SWEET EVERYTHING┆this just in: maybe he can be fixed. atsumu miya used to make news as a longtime bachelor who considered marriage to be "settling down" and as someone who prides himself on "never settling", it's clear the only ring he cares about comes from a championship. barely seven years after this iconic interview, atsumu miya walks away from professional volleyball as a devoted husband and father to the most adorable little toddlers who test his stamina as he chases after them.
a collection of inter-connected (mostly fluffy) one shots and drabbles centered around husband/dad!atsumu, maintaining the honeymoon phase of marriage, and the family antics that occur when his children inherit his wild, brash nature <3
triple trouble┆before his early retirement from the game, new dad atsumu steals every reporters' attention as he shows the world his triplets during a post-game conference; only, it's really his babies that have everyone so entertained.
number one┆atsumu's always reassured you that he doesn't mind leaving behind his professional career to spend more time with the family, but the media gets to him. his creeping doubt and feelings of regret only amplify when he walks into his office to see that his sons have accidentally destroyed his trophy case, all his awards and plaques dented, ruined, or shattered into pieces on the floor. — coming soon!
my heart hits rewind┆noted as one of the longest standing (and healthy) relationships in celebrity circles, people online always speculate on how you and atsumu are still so in love with each other, especially after having kids that are constantly vying for your attention. alternatively: 5 times you and atsumu try get some alone time + the 1 time you two finally get a date night. — coming soon!
honeymoon fades┆you and atsumu celebrate your wedding anniversary (nsfw). — coming soon!
i want your dreary mondays┆before the marriage and your kids, it's just you and atsumu trying to figure things out. or: atsumu realizes he wants to spend his whole life with you and does everything in his power to convince you to stay by his side (even though you never really did need much convincing). (nsfw) — coming soon!
author's note a little throwback to my bleedinqhearts days lol!!! i hope you all miss dad!atsumu as much as i did <3
fan art inspired by the fics (from my old blog <3)
triplets
ami & atsumu
#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x reader#dad!atsumu#domestic fluff#fluff#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq fluff#one shot#drabble#haikyuu headcanons#series: sweet everything#atsumu x reader#smut#hq fanfic#atsumu smut
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Roommates | One Shot
Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader x Suguru Geto [MMF]
About:
You’re late on rent again and rather than evicting you, your roommates figure out a different way to make you pay.
Tags/themes:
Roommates AU, threesomes, dubious consent, one shot smut, doggy style, blowjobs, sexual coercion (to keep the rent free), kissing, 18+.
Final warning for dubcon, the reader is implied into it but the consent isn’t made clear.
Word count: 2.1k
You were late on rent again.
A couple months ago you had the excuse that you lost your job so you were short on your share, last month you missed it entirely.
This month you still didn’t have anything and your bank account was running dry, finding absolutely zero luck on the search—living frugally as a result.
Satoru always collected rent in the middle of the month as he was the one who owned the unit. His friend Suguru, lived in an adjacent room to his while you took the smaller room opposite.
Living with two men had certainly been an experience, but they both for the most part kept to themselves and would never bother you, but then you lost your job and your presence became more of a nuisance than just being someone in the background of their lives.
”Again?” Satoru asked as he maintained a friendly albeit strained smile, his tone not quite a whine but you could tell he wasn’t pleased either.
“I-I’ve been trying, but it’s so difficult to find work right now.” You replied, even though that excuse was starting to get stale; it was the truth, but the truth didn’t fill your pockets and that much was a problem.
His demeanour tightened as he struggled to remain polite; you knew that money wasn’t an issue for him and he could afford the entire place alone if he had to, but at the same time you could see where he was coming from.
He wasn’t usually so serious, but he did what he had to do when he needed to be. The Satoru you would usually see, so carefree and vibrant, stifled down due to your own misfortune.
Suguru in the midst of this ate breakfast in utter silence as he watched the entire thing unfold from the kitchen table. You would meet his gaze every now and then by accident as he would then try to avoid you, staying quiet as he tried to eat through his good friend doing his best not to scold you.
You mustered up the courage and swallowed away the last of your dignity once more, surrendering to asking for one final chance.
“I know that it’s a lot to ask, but can you please… please give me just a little bit more time?”
His icy blue eyes flashed over your body for a moment, his body language thawing as a new idea came to mind. Instead of going back on forth with you on the topic, he took a deep breath and removed himself from your company momentarily.
His smile grew curt, laced with unreadable intent. “One moment.”
You sat yourself down on the arm rest of the sofa, watching as Satoru went off to whisper something off to Suguru. You considered genuinely just moving back home rather than bothering him further, let alone consider the other prospect which was couch surfing.
Every now and then you’d glance back to the kitchenette from the open plan area, watching as Satoru planned something with Suguru. Their expressions were a little too casual for it to have been something serious and your stomach coiled at the possibility of mockery.
Suguru seemed hesitant about something as his dark eyes landed on you every now and then, his eyes meeting with your own and then disconnecting. Satoru continued to dispense his trademark smile, eyeing you up and down from head to toe, settling on some type of resolution.
The two men then approached you, planting an an uncertain sort of feeling in your gut—your instinct begging for you to choose flight as they both closed in.
“It’s your lucky day,” Satoru announced, his voice suddenly playful and teasing, “rent’s on the house.”
There was definitely a catch.
You stood up and took a step back. “Why…?”
He took a step forward, following you in your tracks as he cornered you.
“You’re gonna do something for us, that’s why.” He added, his words doing nothing to settle your quickly building unease.
“Do what?” You dared to ask.
“You’re a smart girl, [name],” Satoru purred, “you can figure it out, can’t you?”
You weren’t an idiot; you could put two and two together to understand exactly what it was that he was implying—rent was on the house and you weren’t a total prude, understanding that he wanted you to pay your dues with a favour instead.
You just didn’t think it would ever come to something like this. How humiliating, almost.
It was the fact that Suguru seemed to be involved too that further worsened your feelings on the issue. You were already barely into the idea of trading sex for a place to stay, but you now had the influence of two slowly approaching guys who had a different sort of idea of what to do with you.
As you pondered all of the possibilities, you found yourself so distracted that you didn’t even have time to react properly—wait.
Satoru already gave into his building curiousity with you; his wandering fingers pinched at the hem of your top, rolling up the fabric to reveal your bare stomach—your arms protested by anchoring down, but his strength relented and he pulled it off of you completely.
His cruising pursuit moved towards your shorts next, revealing the finishing piece for your bra’s matching set—how cruel it was of such fate to align on a day when you’d be wearing such a thing; both of their eyes shining with a delighted glint.
You blushed as you scrambled to cover up, your cheeks burning cherry red as your temperature turned feverish from the events that quickly unfolded.
“You look so cute when you’re all embarrassed like that.” Satoru commented as he flashed you a cheeky grin, his frosted lashes fluttering as he continued to stare at your now exposed skin.
He slipped right behind you, pulling you close as he pulled you into his chest—his arms wrapped around your stomach, his cock pitching against his trousers, feeling his hardness pressing against your back; he wanted you so much, so soon. His lips sank as he nibbled against your neck, leaving behind rosy love bites from suckled flesh.
“Can you feel how hard you’re making me, [name]?” Satoru asked as he continued to grind—you didn’t dare reply, your voice caught in the back of your throat whenever you’d try.
Suguru moved closer at this point too, finally giving into his own thoughts within the company of your exposed form. His dark eyes brightened as he glossed his gaze over your frame, reeling his focus back onto your chest—curious hands unable to resist a feel for a second longer.
His fingertips would then trace towards your upper body, finally tracing at your jaw as his fingers settled on a pinch against your chin; he wanted to keep your sights pointed towards him and him alone.
Suguru then lowered his lips to meet with yours, his tongue slowly pushing into your mouth as the wet fleshy muscle wrestled with your own to keep you subdued, pulling strands of webbing saliva back as he disconnected the kiss, just as though to take in his sight of you before going any further.
He took a step forward with intentional purpose and drive, you stepped back as he herded you, finding yourself perfectly sandwiched in between both Satoru and Suguru with absolutely zero wiggle room to spare.
It was then that Satoru once again didn’t give you any room to think as his hands brushed around your waist; greedy hands palmed around your hips before retreating to to the base of your shoulders, pushing you down to assume an entirely different position as your body listened.
Before you even had a chance to react even further, you were on your hands and knees before them both. Your knobbly joints tanking the pressure from the wooden floor, a sensation slightly painful as it rubbed you raw.
Through it, you felt some type of deeply rooted shame as you didn’t even protest, instead accepting the pursuit—you liked this, not quite knowing nor understanding why; feeling so wanted, so desired by both of them at the same time.
Satoru’s trousers fell to his knees as he too surrendered to the floor, his sweatpants gathering by your legs as moved closer in. You felt the tip of his length tease you as he prodded against your opening before sliding into you with such welcomed ease; your pussy already soaked and taking him in without a single hint of a struggle.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you, [name]?” Satoru couldn’t help but tease, “—you’re so wet for me already~!”
Your breath hitched as you once again couldn’t reply, instead eliciting a rushed gasp as he rammed the rest of his cock into your gushing heat, filling the otherwise silent room with the sounds of smacking pleasure as his rhythm quickly surrendered to something hurried, rather than taking the time to savour you.
Suguru was next; his face continuing to focus on yours as he looked down, towering himself above you. He slowly lowered himself to his knees too, succumbing to a certain type of idea that he had in mind.
“Your eyes are so pretty,” he spoke, tweezing his fingertips to turn your chin to face him once again, “can you keep looking at me?”
You obeyed as you felt pulled in by his voice, focusing your sights on his eyes as his own hands trailed elsewhere, eager to give you a taste of himself.
Suguru aligned himself with your lips, teasing his tip as he slowly pushed himself in and filled out the rest of your mouth—you took him in so well as he continued to pack his meat inside.
He moved himself further in as he bucked at your skull with his length, delighted by the noises you made as you struggled to take him in. He relented regardless as searched for your throat, his hands weaving through your hair, brushing away stray strands to keep looking at your pretty face.
Satoru at the same time continued to pound into your pussy from behind, his hips slamming against your ass, fingernails sinking into your bruised flesh. Your ass rippled as his pursuit continued, palms hitting your cheeks causing your eyes to water while you gagged on Suguru in the meanwhile.
Struggling to maintain your balance, Suguru lifted you by your arms to keep you right where he wanted you; continuing to slide his meat into your throat, finding an almost sadistic joy in how you reacted.
High pitched whines and breathy moans harmonising with their own grunting pleasure.
His demanding gaze narrowed, his lips trembling as he succumbed to a desperate chant; “eyes on me, eyes on me—“
Satoru seemed to be close to the edge of climax as his thrusting reached relentless pace, his grip against your once blank flesh now canvassed blotched watercolour markings against all around your thighs, leaving behind signatures of bloodied etching from such passionate consequence.
He groaned as he half moaned your name; his hold tightening as your own cries meshed with both pleasure and pain—he drilled into you with such anticipated drive before delivering one final pump, milking himself dry into your sopping warmth, before finally pulling out, gasping and entirely spent.
It didn’t take long for Suguru to catch up next as you adhered to his wishes quite well, taking him in like such a good girl—sucking on him as your cheeks clenched, sending him to places he could only dream to go, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat as he continued to fuck your mouth the best that he could.
His release was sudden, emptying thick loads of a hot mess that pooled in your mouth, trailing against your chin as he finally pulled out—his eyes laced with utter affection.
You succumbed to the floor as Satoru pulled you closer, eager to help you recover, Suguru sat close by as he too, surrendered to creeping exhaustion.
Neither one of them could let you go, at least not yet.
“Now, wasn’t that fun, [name]?” Satoru asked as he brushed his hands along your legs, feeling tempted by a second round. “Maybe you should skip next month’s rent too?”
You didn’t reply yet again, but both your expression and flushed complexion along with your relaxed form all pointed to a definite yes—the feeling so wrong, so right, something you wouldn’t quite mind to revisit again and again.
“You should,” Suguru encouraged as he moved closer next to you, “I’d love to see more of those pretty eyes.”
As you settled into an exhausted stupor, wedged between them both, you couldn’t deny that you loved that idea.
So maybe, you shouldn’t rush in finding a job after all.
#tw dubcon#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto#satoru gojo#jjk fanfic#jjk x y/n#smut#reader x gojo#reader x geto#reader insert#one shot#fanfic#short but sweet#alternate universe roommates#dubious consent#getou suguru x you#gojou satoru x reader#satoru x reader#satoru x you#getou suguru x reader#suguru x reader#this was my first time writing threesomes lmao#i was locked in and writing this in a fever dream#fem!reader
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Logan walker x reader one shot
Warnings: none, just fluff (and probably some bad grammar)
Logan Walker. A man who is said to be cold hearted and closed off is the same man who’s currently snuggling up against you like a cat. He’s making little groans and snoring softly as he nuzzled his face into your chest. A small soft chuckle escaped your lips before you gently ran your fingers through his soft dark brown hair and look back up at the tv. You want to wake him up and take him to bed so he came properly sleep but he’s just so peaceful laying on you. He deserves a proper sleep after a long day at work, as soon as he came home he almost collapsed. You sighed and decided that it was time for both you to get to bed so you reached for the remote and turned the tv off before gently shaking your boyfriend. “Logan come on, get up baby…” you said softly to him. His eyes fluttered open and his pretty brown eyes looked up at you. A small groan escaped his lips as he sat up slowly. “W-what…?” He said sounding confused and tired. His eyes were heavy and his posture was slumped. You brought your hand up to cup his cheek and smiled lightly at him. “Come on let’s get you to bed.” You spoke quietly and lead him to your room. He immediately fell on the bed and motioned for you to lay down with him. Once you got settled it he was all over you just like when he was on the couch. His face nuzzled against your chest and his body covering yours like a weighted blanket. Funny how everyone says he’s some big tough scary man but he’s clinging to you like a teddy bear right now.
#writers on tumblr#foryoupage#call of duty#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#cod mwii#idk how to tag this#foryopage#cod logan#logan walker#cod ghosts#one shot#cod ghost
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hello hello friend, i have a writing request!
can i get a commander mayday x reader? something along the lines of reuniting after him surviving barton 4, just some fluffy fluff (and maybe a little angst sprinkled in if you feel its necessary hehe)
much love <3
Hey there! Interesting request, we don't see much of Mayday round here but I totally get the appeal!
Obviously some changes to the show, but all for us to enjoy ;)
Hope you like it!
Xx,
Sky.
"COLD WITHOUT YOU"
SW REQUESTS –MAYDAY/(GN)READER 📩💔💖
WARNINGS: FROSTBITE&INJURY, OTHERWISE FLUFF.
It is a cold day in Barton IV; and that is saying a lot, considering the ever present freezing air on the almost desolate planet currently ruled by the Galactic Empire. You are somewhat of a nomad, having left the troubles of your past life behind; living a mostly solitary life in the mountains. It isn't the most comfortable of lifes; but you appreciate the peace and quietness that blankets your little home cavern after so much pain and destruction.
You step inside your home, instantly feeling physically better. The cave you live in shields you perfectly from the howling wind; and once you lit up a small fire in your humble living room of sorts, the temperature rises slowly but steadily. Today has been one of those days where the cold seems to slip it's thin fingers inside your clothes; leaving them humid and sticking them to your skin.
You disrobe and change to an entirely new set of clothes. You're shaking while you do so; but soon you're dressed with a dry set and you sigh in relief, sitting down next to the fire and pulling your socks off, smiling at the warming heat inches away from your frozen toes. It feels like heaven, such a small thing.
You stay close to the fire for some minutes, warming up. Once the tingling sensation has reduced and your skin and muscles feels something akin to normal, you reach over to your vault and take a pack of rations out.
"Cheers, Mayday" you joke out loud, and take your first bite into it.
It's not your everyday dinner; not you're favourite. You're pretty self-dependant. You know how to hunt your food –wether it's edible plants and fruits, or a small or large mammals–. Birds are more difficult to catch –unless they're injured–; but you've definitively had them more than once too. Hell, you've even had lizards and other small reptiles for lunch. However, when the temperatures are extremely cold and you aren't as lucky as to find much of a prey, you always have Mayday's extra rations. That's actually how the two of you met; he was scanning the perimeter of his base, once, and you were inmerse on the hunt. He watched you kill a mountain cat; and made a comment about that being a good ammount of food for two. You had been shocked by his presence and his suggestion; but loneliness had started to pull on the strings of your heart back then, and you had nodded dumbly. That night you had shared your first dinner and the warmth of your bodies; and the rest was history.
In present time, you go to sleep with a tired but soft smile on your face.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Hours later, you wake up with shuffling steps and grunts right outside your cave. You instantly frown and grab your blade, standing up quietly and slithering towards the entrance in alert. It sounds human, so your first instint is to think of Mayday; but there's more than one set of wobbly steps, and he would never bring visitors unannounced. No, it's definitively a stranger.
You see him first. He's tall and skinny; you can see that even with his armour on. It's different than those you've seen before as well; almost black, and paiting a dark contrast against the white of the snow behind him. He's got a riffle attached to his back and a visor on his helmet; some sort of sniper. He's covered in snow, shaking visibly; his companion too, who has to be almost dragged inside in order to...
"M-mayday?" You stutter, freezing on the spot and lowering your blade, abandoning your agressive possition instantly.
"W-we're going to n-need some... help..." the stranger grunts, teeth clashing violently against each other, and you spring into action, quickly standing at your partner's other side and holding some of his weight.
The three of you stumble inside; and collapse near the fire.
You're frenetically checking him inmediately. You rip his helmet of; for once having no care where it lands while you cup his face trying to get his attention and then take his pulse when he barely responds. It's faint but it's there.
"What happened?" You question the stranger in pannick.
You quickly work on taking his armour off; piling it up fast and methodically at your side. You feel the stranger studying you, but you don't even glance at him. Mayday is all that matters now.
"Avalanche" he answers, voice raspy "he hit his head. The most worrying thing now is the frostbite, though. I'd take a look at his feet if I were you".
You nod in understanding.
You're both silent for the next handful of minutes; while you leave Mayday in just his underware before covering him with one thick blanket after another. You take up some heating packs of your vault too; breaking the sticks and pushing them under the blankets so he warms up even faster. You throw some other things at the stranger too; hear him change as well in the silence of your home.
Mayday's still shivering half an hour later. His skin still looks dangerously red and blue; body trembling in his unconsciousness. You've already pushed him close to the fire, used some heat sticks, changed his wet clothes and covered him in blankets. There's only so much you can do.
Without worrying on the other soldier seing you half naked, you take your clothes off, and cuddle up close to Mayday inside his refuge of blankets. He's so cold it makes you wince and tremble; but you clench your jaw and stubbornly press your whole body against him. He needs you, and the cold isn't going to stop you. Mayday mumbles and you soothe him with a caress and a Keldabe kiss.
"You better not try anything or you'll end up dead" you warn the soldier, who's still looking at the both of you, either from mistrust or surprise.
"Won't" you hear him grumble, shakily. "You're my best chance of survival. Besides, I owe him".
You only desperately wish Mayday survives the night as well.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
You wake up with your man mumbling incoherent words and pressing further into you, cold –but normal cold– nose hiding on the curve of your neck. You blink sleeply, and scan him instantly; a relieved sigh escaping your lips at the feeling of his no longer alarming body temperature stealing some of yours.
Your hands come up to cup his face; brushing his long disheveled hair aside and staring at him with raw adoration and love. You can't help yourself and kiss him, then; a soft, heartfelt press of lips.
Mayday groans and groggily opens his eyes; scanning the situation –gaze lingering on Crosshair's lying form a pair of meters away– before returning to you. He hums, and hides his face in your neck again, kissing your skin gently.
"Morning, cyare" he whispers, voice hoarse but sounding like a dream to you. "Sorry for stealing your heat tonight".
You sigh in content and wrap your leg around his hips. One of Mayday's strong big hands reaches down to hold your thigh against him.
"Just happy you're safe and sound, May" you whisper back at him, pulling back to look at him in the eyes. "You scared the shit out of me".
Mayday hums and tugs you closer to him. The warmth feels delicious below the blankets. You can't help but feel a slow, unhurried tingle of arousal building inside of you. You don't do anything to chase it.
"Mm. I know. I'm sorry, mesh'la. Yesterday was a mess".
You stay in silence for some time; both of you caressing each other's skin softly.
Your eyes glance back at the other soldier sleeping on your cave.
"Who is he?" You whisper to him.
Mayday takes a moment to answer.
"Imperial sniper. A clone, though obviously different than me. I Think... Think he's starting to get tired of it. Some part of him clinges to the Empire like it's the only thing he has left; but I think it's just a matter of time before he let's go".
You hum distractedly. Your nose brushes against his.
"You trust him?"
Mayday sighs.
"Trust is a powerful word" he carefully answers. "I think he's made some bad choices, like me. But he's a good kid".
You give him a soft smile and kiss his lips once more. His beard and mustache tickles your skin.
"You can't save everyone".
Mayday smiles; a small, nostalgic tug of his lips.
"I know" he whispers, closing his eyes and cupping your cheek with his hand, foreheads pressing together. "I'll just focus on you, then".
THE END.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Boom! This oneshot came up being a mix of fluffy and nostalgic/melancholy angsty! I hope you liked it!
Next work will be a non romantic Echo&Omega angsty/comfort convo. After that we've got a cryptic pregnancy with Hunter, and then some more fun&light oneshots too!
Stay stunned,
Xx,
Sky.
PS. Still not knowing how to link works with just the title. I accept help xD.
Back to my main masterlist here:
#commander mayday#star wars#clones#fanfic#tbb#hunter tbb#tech tbb#clone wars#echo tbb#fics#wrecker tbb#tbb crosshair#the bad batch crosshair#clone trooper crosshair#cross#tbb au#arc trooper echo#the bad batch#tech#clone force 99#clone au#cuddles#huddling for warmth#one shot#oneshot#request#open requests#clone trooper wrecker#x reader
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#fanfiction is not the answer its the solution#fanfic#fanfiction#tumblr#ao3 tags#ao3#archives of our own#meme#funny#marvel#one shot#smut#fluff#supernatural#memes#marvel meme#star wars
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Double Date - Double Down
NSFW | MDNI
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader
Word count: 4.9k
Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.
A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.
“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.
Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“
“How do you know I’m free?”
“You just said you were!”
You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.
“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“
“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”
You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”
“Johnny’s friend will probably-“
“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”
“He won’t-“
“We got a deal?”
She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”
At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.
The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.
“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.
You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…
Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.
“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.
You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.
“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.
You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.
All in all, wayyyy out of your league.
He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”
You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.
“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.
Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.
He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”
“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.
“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.
“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”
Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.
You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.
“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.
She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”
In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.
“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”
He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”
“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”
His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”
You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”
“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”
You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”
He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”
Oh.
*Oh*.
You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”
He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”
Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.
“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”
“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?
“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”
You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.
“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”
“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.
He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.
“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.
“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”
“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.
Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.
“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.
He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”
“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”
“Yeah?”
“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”
“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.
The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?
“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.
“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”
Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”
“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”
“Apparently.”
His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.
Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.
“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.
“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.
You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.
His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.
“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.
Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”
“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”
He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”
“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”
“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.
“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”
“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”
“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”
“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”
“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.
“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.
How convenient.
“Okay.” You whisper.
After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.
At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.
It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”
“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.
Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.
“Simon!”
“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.
“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.
“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.
You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.
That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”
You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”
“Say it back, doll.”
“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.
“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.
You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”
Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.
“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.
His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”
Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.
Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”
“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.
“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.
“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.
He freezes, looking up at you.
“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“
Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”
All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.
“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.
“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.
“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.
“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”
The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.
“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.
Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”
Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”
“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.
You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.
“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.
“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.
Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-
“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.
Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”
“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.
Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.
For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.
“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.
You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.
“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.
You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.
“Good.”
It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.
You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.
Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.
When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.
“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.
Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”
“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.
He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.
It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.
By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.
Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”
“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.
You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”
“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.
“Are you a psycho?”
“Not generally, no.”
“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.
Simon just scoffs at you.
You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”
“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.
You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”
Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.
“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?
You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”
#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#call of duty#cod x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#ghost x reader#plus size reader#fat reader#reader insert#simon riley x you#simon x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x you#smut#cod smut#reader insert smut#one shot#Ghost with OCD is my roman empire#he’s so much more well adjusted than I usually write him but it was fun#holly writes
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The Love (Alastor x Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Description: Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.
Warnings: I don't think there are any but correct me if I'm wrong.
Word Count: 1,323
Master Lists:
Master Lists
Hazbin Hotel Master List
A/N Y'all, I'm lowkey dying from the requests. I'm sorry for the last five or so taking so long, I just need a little break and mix in some of my own ideas if that is okay.
Alastor was drinking at the bar with Husk, Charlie, and Angel. The day had been a lot, seeing Mimzy was always a lot. Yes she was trouble, but Alastor loved her. He loved her for the same reason he was trying to drink himself stupid at the bar. He loved her because she reminded him of Y/n. Mimzy had been her friend first, after all.
He sat off to the side in his own little world while Angel and Charlie chatted and Husk obediently poured the drinks. Normally, Husk would have joined the pair in the mindless, mundane chatter but after the events of the day, Alastor's presence kept him silent.
"No way!" Charlie exclaimed.
She and Angel were talking about some TV show they both watched or another. A mind numbingly boring background noise but, Alastor wasn't complaining.
"Yes! They are one hundred percent perfect for each other." Angel replied animatedly.
"Literally how. Name one thing that shows they have good chemistry."
"Uh, they’re constantly at each other's throats? If that's not love, I don't know what is."
"Angel?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't know what love is."
Husk let out a short, sharp laugh as he topped off Angel's drink.
"Oh yeah? Well then, Princess, what do you think love is."
Charlie sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter as a dreamy look spread across her face.
"Love is... love is when you would do anything for the person. It's when they're your guiding star, your... your prayers answered."
"Uh, no? Love is when you want to literally kill the person but like, in a good way."
"Angel, what does that even mean." Charlie laughed.
"It means... it means there is passion. That spark everyone always talks about? It's violence."
"Hey Al!" Charlie suddenly called, leaning back in her seat to peer at Alastor behind Angel's back, "Who's right, me or Angel?"
Alastor looked up from his glass.
"I hate to say it, but neither of you are correct." he sighed in irritation at having been disturbed, "Love is neither a constant fight nor a blind devotion, though it contains aspects of both."
"Like you know anything about love, mister fancy talk creepy voice." Angel scoffed, turning to face Alastor as well now.
"Actually, I do."
Charlie's face lit up. She practically vibrated with anticipation.
"Alastor! You've been in love!?"
Normally, on a night like this, he'd be alone. He'd be careful to be alone, or at least have Husk as his only company. When he told Husk to shut up and pour, he listened. Other people, not so much.
"Yes."
Charlie had stars in her eyes. She inched closer to him.
"Are you gonna spill?" Angel asked after a moment.
"It was a long time ago."
Alastor took a long sip from his glass.
"Do you... do you not remember it?" Charlie asked, her excited smile slipping slightly at the notion
Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the long day, Lucifer, Mimzy, Husk. Those shark demons. Maybe it was just that secretly all along, he had wanted someone to talk to. He watched the liquor in his glass as he swirled it gently.
"It was a long time ago, but I still remember it." his smile softened as he spoke, "It's strange. I remember her laughter, her little quixotic tendencies. I remember the way her eyes would light up when she smiled and the way her perfume smelled. I know her favorite author, the way she took her coffee, the way she folded her clothes but, I can't seem to ever see her face anymore. I..."
He trailed off, taking a breath.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Charlie quickly said, not wanting to make Alastor uncomfortable.
Alastor shook his head.
"I've spent years not talking about her. Maybe... maybe something else would be nice."
"So, how'd you guys meet?" Charlie immediately asked.
Alastor looked up at her and let out a light chuckle. He felt like he was human again for a moment. It was odd.
"I don't know if you know this about me, but I was a radio broadcaster back when I was alive. A rather famous one at that, in New Orleans at any rate. Her family ran a restaurant near the studio that I went to get lunch at from time to time. She worked there as a server."
"And she loved you?" Angel asked, "Like, you weren't just delusional?"
"I was quite the lady's man back in my day."
"Uh-huh." Angel doubtfully replied, "Sure."
"Oh hush, Angel." Charlie shoved the spider demon slightly, "Tell us more! What was she like? Did you ever get together or were you just friends? Gah! I wanna know everything!"
"She was..." Alastor's gaze fell back to his glass, "you remind me of her in a way. She was so idealistic, so driven. So... bubbly. She worked hard and she cared deeply. I don't know how I swung her, despite my charms. We were friends for about a year. The whole time, I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out but she ended up being the one to ask me. We got married when we were in our mid twenties. I only had a few years with her as my wife before I died."
Unbidden ideas darkened the edges of his mind. Y/n had always been so good, so sweet. Alastor had no idea if she had ever learned of his... escapades. He figured she must know, considering the manner in which he died but it was a horrifying thought. He was grateful when Charlie spoke again, pulling his mind back to the present.
"Thats so cute!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands as she looked between Alastor and Angel, searching for similar excitement.
"Can we meet this alleged doll of yours?" Angel asked, "Cause I am really not believing any of this bullshit your spouting."
Charlie gasped, suddenly struck by inspiration.
"Do you think she would want to be redeemed?"
"Oh dear," Alastor shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes, "she's not here."
"Then wh-"
"She's in heaven?" Angel exclaimed, "You married someone who ended up in heaven?"
"Either that or she's over a hundred years old and still on earth." Alastor weakly joked.
"I'm sorry."
Alastor shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.
"No!" Charlie insisted, "You'll... you'll never get to see her again! That's so sad!"
"And here I thought you were trying to get us redeemed." Angel scoffed.
Charlie turned to him.
"I'm trying to get you redeemed cause you're a guest. Alastor isn't a guest."
"Right you are, my dear."
"But you could do that." Charlie said turning back to Alastor, "Angel's right, if you were a guest you could be redeemed. You could see her again!"
Alastor smiled kindly at the excited demon. He patted her back.
"I'm afraid I don't think that's an option."
"But why not!" Charlie insisted, "Anyone can be redeemed, Alastor."
"That's not the issue, my dear." he sighed, "I did some things on earth that she would most certainly view as... unfavorable shall we say? Things she most certainly learned of after my death."
"You're not even gonna give it a shot?" Angel asked.
"Yeah, come on Alastor. Let us help you. You never know how it could turn out!"
"It's alright. I have the time we spent together, the memories. I don't want to taint that." he slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand to his chest, his palm over his heart, "The love is still there, thats what matters."
The quartet fell silent as Husk poured Alastor another drink. Alastor sighed, grabbing the glass and examining it carefully, but not taking a sip.
"What was her name?" Charlie asked, her voice small and her smile long gone.
"Y/n."
It had been years since he'd said it out loud. His tongue relished every syllable.
"Her name was Y/n."
#x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#fic writer#x reader fics#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#fanfic#x reader oneshot#x reader one shot#one shot#oneshot#angst#x reader angst#alastor angst#alastor x reader#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin#hazbin hotel x reader smut#hazbin hotel oneshots#alastor oneshot#x reader fanfiction#x reader fanfic
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