#and yes…I spent way too much time on this instead of just going to bed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kalims · 1 year

Note

Can I please request any Twst character seeing their crush kiss their tsum?

⊹ kissing their tsum tsum

premise. maybe leaving their tsum somewhere to come back to wasn't such a good idea anymore when it's clearly taking the attention of the person they like.

parts. floyd (i somehow forgot him help)

content. gender neutral reader

characters. riddle, leona, jack, epel, sebek

cw. written by someone who hasn't played through the event and does not know shit lol

note. are they just plushies??? or do they have a consciousness of their own??? I am so confused but wow I wrote somehow

I just slapped whoever had cards on the event onto here 😭 caters part is my favorite ugh

riddle rosehearts

left his tsum in it's custom made velvet chair to grab another jar of sugar since riddle didn't know it ran out.

and yes, he had one made for it. smaller version of his own and stuff, it literally has better privileges than any other resident of the dorm.

^ he totally drinks tea with it and believes that even if it isn't actually alive it's him and if this tsum didn't drink tea at the exact time for a specific rule he still feels like he broke one.

he even pours a cup for it hekasbkqkas.

I mean the liquid doesn't get drank by anyone obviously but riddle still does it.

so as he's walking back, opening the chair to take a peek to see if it's enough cubes once he closes it, and looks up he almost just trips on air and drops the glass jar.

he fumbles with the object for a second, blinking rapidly at the sight of you snuggling into his tsum then giving it little kisses every now and then, did he hear you calling it cute—?

"wha...what in the world are you doing?!"

"it's so adorable.." you mumble, hearing the boy but it just goes in one ear and out the other.

good lord he doesn't know whether he'd like to melt into a puddle, combust from his red face, or be that tsum.

should he be jealous? no. but is he? yeah. even if he's denying it severely.

next session the tsum was left with no tea and was promptly caged in his room in hopes that you would not do all that to his tsum, and to his real self instead.

leona kingscholar

I honestly don't think he would really care for it??

I mean wow. it looks like him. cool. whatever. what's he supposed to do with it? it's just a plush no need to work up so much for it.

not that doing effort for it benefits him in anyone but he just keeps it on his bed since he didn't really wanna go anywhere else and his bed just happened to be near so...

*yoink*

no one tells him this, especially not ruggie but he actually sleeps with it. an arm over it sometimes and usually coddling it in his arms.

trust me ruggie has proof.

100 madol for 5 seconds fr

well as usual it's in his bed just there in it's habitat just like the real leona kingscholar.

even someone like him takes the time to actually go to the bathroom so while he's gone, and when he's on his way back he immediately knows you're there.

that's a scent he can recognize anywhere (well duh. bro spent so long tryna engrave it) and if he can smell you so close to his destination then obviously you're in his room.

also he left the door slightly closed and it's more open than before so that's that.

just like anyone else he completely stops before he could open his mouth and is actually flabbergasted and flustered?

why are you kissing his tsum?? "that's kinda creepy ain't it?" he drawls but his tucked ears says I wanna be it so bad.

"guess i'm creepy then."

you say simply and go back to coddling the damn thing. leona scowls at the relevation. there's no way a small, lame version of him is gonna win you like that!

move over so you can enjoy the real thing >:(

jack howl

mr. everyday is leg, arm, everything day guy.

I believe he's more of an outdoors dude, a very sweet outdoors dude.

the kind of sweet outdoors dude that would buy a miniature plushie version of weights for his tsum so it can get the eveyday is leg, arm, everything day too.

cute thing is jack is actually so proud of himself 😭 evident from the cute lil' wag of tail he does.

he's so pure!!

and him and his tsum totally 'work out' together.

well it's mainly him but he likes to think that his tsum is too. if he's doing an exercise that doesn't require a lot of moving his tsum is just there somewhere with it's weights facing him.

if he's running he has it on his shoulders awww..

sometimes he can get a little distracted though. from his intense focus he didn't even hear you approaching, let alone sitting down and basically hogging his tsum all to yourself!

at some point you just made the tsum copy whatever the real jack does. jack is doing push-ups? damnn.. tsum is doing is so easily.

you get the point.

it's only then when jack notices when he hears you and mistakes your comment for him.

"ahh, you did great cutie.. so strong, so cute." he hears you mumble and turns pink before turning back to look at you and the happy movement of his wolf traits pause.

oh that wasn't for him.

jack stares in envy. HE SWEARS THAT TSUM JUST SMIRKED AT HIM.. LITERALLY TRAITOR.

man just feels betrayed.

cater diamond

absolutely adores him tsum to bits!!

ever since he got it he practically drags it everywhere and his magicam page is full of it.

I reckon cater named it. maybe dia(mond) or something, if not then the classic cater 2.0 which is funny cause now he got 3 clones!!

^ the other two and now lil' cater 🎤

which makes me wonder. it'd totally be cute if he had like, two other tsums that are copies of the result of his unique magic. now it's actually cater 2.0 for real!

cater 2.0 is definitely more popular than some students so you could go up to one and say: you know who this is *picture of random student*

they'll be like: ehh... can't say I do, or seen them before

you holding up a picture of cater 2.0: what about this?

them: oh thats cater 2.0 obviously!

random student crying in the backround.

IMAGINEEE (laughs in pain)

ahem. he likes to have his tsums (tsums cause he actually got 3 to match himself) around everywhere so he can incorporate them into his selfies.

also he needs to feed everyone more cater 2.0's content. there's cater D, cater I, and cater A who all spell out dia :DD big brain

in the music room of his club where's he's peacefully testing out a riff behind him his tsums lay..

so obviously he didn't hear you shuffle into the room, let out the quietest gasp ever and just take the three into your arms and look like you're in heaven.

you stay like that for a while, smiling and hugging the tsums cause wow were they just adorable! and there's three of them!

you all spare the three a sweet kiss before realizing that the music has stopped and cater is pouting at you.

"aw that isn't fair!" he whined, and smiles cheekily. "these guys and I want some of that too!" he points to his two splits that has recently conjured.

now you got three miniature caters that got the kiss, and three real caters that want one yayy!

sebek zigvolt

said he was not going to care for.. something like that and if there was anything like.. that, the only thing he'd care of was one of malleus'.

then said that 'he wanted to educate the plush' even though it was a plush. he's already contradicting himself here, where's the hate??

legit just rambled to the plush for an hour straight preaching about the greatness and glory of his young master.

where silver actually woke up from! silver!! crazy, right?

it must have been a lot of even silver rose from it.

said he was not going to spend anything on it unlike the other people who had spent a hefty amount of madol for the comfort of their tsum and for them alone.

but he figured.. just getting a small painting of the young master so the tsum would look at it everyday isn't too much of a stretch.

that's what he said before and now he's on his way to get another smaller version merch of malleus.

god forbid if malleus ever came inside the room cause he's just gonna see a lot of stuff.. but don't worry cause sebek atleast has a separate corner for all that.

'I will not care for it' my ass.

of course he had completely forgotten that he had invited you over and was outside fetching his blade he forgot to bring inside.

as per dorm rules! don't want it flying away anywhere if a.. *coughs* storm suddenly appears.

lilia had already invited you in and insisted it was fine for you to enter sebek's room beforehand even with your doubts he just pushed you in and you weren't in a place to argue when he didn't even budge when you tried to stop.

once you just walked around out of curiosity it was only in due time where you would see the plush.

an idea pops in your head.

sebek did not expect to see you inside his room.

let alone on his bed, with his tsum in your arms and you dutifully committing yourself into showering it with love and affection.

he's just flabbergasted, shocked to silence, every synonym near to those. but there's an increasing amount of steam pouring out of his ears as his face twitches more by the minute.

"WHAT ARE YO—"

you kiss it so casually that sebek shuts up and almost faints out of embarrassment and fluster.

WHAT IS GOING ON?? he's so confused. WHO LET YOU IN??

bat chuckling somewhere

epel felmier

would very much like to dress up his tsum.

he knows because vil already saw the tsum looking like a monstrosity covered in dirt and leaves, only spared a disappointed look but stayed silent.

not in the way you'd think cause he feels like he can do whatever he'd like to this tsum and vil wouldn't really care like the man would to real epel.

a hallelujah for him honestly.

he doesn't really put much love to his tsum but it's pretty cute that's all. rook finds it way more appealing than him though which he isn't sure how to interpret.

epel doesn't leave it just anywhere when it's outside of pomefiore. cause students there are polite and definitely would not wreck a plushie that looks exactly like him.

if he did the tsum would probably disappear on campus and be found in a dumpster.

*chills* cause he somehow feels for the tsum.

when he's angry he just vents to it and vents whenever. including the times he's just having a crisis about you.

if that tsum was alive godddd epel would be so exposed.

he left the tsum somewhere outside, in the middle of the garden.

he was practicing his make-up there, as per vil's instructions and went out to go fetch a product he had forgotten to grab along with the others.

he figured he might as well take a cup of water as a drink to go.

epel is just gulping down the water when it's just coincidence that he lowers the cup, sees you, there's water still in his mouth, then you give his tsum a little cute kiss so he just spits it all out.

OH MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT. he thought completely out of it. he stares intensely at the tsum.

he's definitely regretting venting to the tsum about you cause epel somehow thinks it's somehow alive and is now rizzing you up, with the knowledge HE gave IT!

he's so mad help 😭

*epel trying to aggressively rizz you up too*

"you don't need that." *snatches and throws the tsum away*

IN JEALOUSY.

meanwhile you watch it fly with sad eyes. :(

mad epel.

note. jesus christ I wrote all of this RIGHT AFTER I posted that /srs ☹ AND I DID ALL THIS IN LIKE AN HOUR HELP ME WHERE DID THAT COME FROM

commision me!

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fluff #twst imagines #twst scenarios #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #cater diamond x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #epel felmier x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #cater diamond #jack howl x reader #jack howl #twstnexus #ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 7 months

Text

Great Balls Of Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)

summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.

a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for

fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it

top gun masterlist

It had been so long. It had been too long.

With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.

You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.

You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.

You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.

But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.

You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.

So this had to be perfect.

This would be perfect.

You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.

He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.

But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).

And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.

You just wanted him to see it so desperately.

You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.

The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?

So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.

You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.

Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.

But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.

Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.

You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.

So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.

Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.

Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.

You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.

You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.

It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.

He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!

He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.

As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.

You had missed four months of this.

And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.

You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.

You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.

You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.

So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.

"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."

Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.

"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."

You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.

"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."

He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.

"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."

And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.

Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.

"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."

You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?

"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.

Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.

He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.

When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.

"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"

Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.

"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.

"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."

You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.

Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.

"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.

"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"

You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.

"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.

When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."

At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.

He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.

His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.

"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.

Bradley pulled back an inch.

"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.

"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."

Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.

"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.

So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.

He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?

God, how you'd missed this man.

And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.

His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.

"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.

"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.

"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."

His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."

You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.

"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."

"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."

You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.

"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.

So you told him about everything.

The short version, of course.

He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...

The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.

Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.

At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.

Not that you really minded.

But you truly felt like going insane.

Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.

He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.

"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.

He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.

He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.

You weren't needy.

You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.

So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.

You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.

Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.

You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.

Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.

You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.

He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.

And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.

He motioned at the table.

"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."

You shook your head softly.

"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.

You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.

You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.

"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"

You nodded, swallowed.

"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."

Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.

"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."

Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.

He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.

God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.

"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."

He let out a groan.

"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.

A whine rolled off your tongue.

"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.

Bradley chuckled.

"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"

Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.

"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.

You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.

Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.

"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.

"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."

He groaned into the skin of your thigh.

"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.

You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.

"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."

You hadn't had him in four months.

Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.

Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.

Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.

As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.

So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.

You needed him to fuck you. Now.

He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.

He was making you go insane.

"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.

"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."

Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.

Nervous because Bradley stilled.

Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.

Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.

"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.

"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"

A tattoo.

Your tattoo.

You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.

Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.

He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.

"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."

Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.

You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.

Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.

It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.

But it didn't always mean something good.

And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.

Great Balls Of Fire.

"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"

Bradley let out a long breath.

"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.

"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.

"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.

Your song.

"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"

He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.

You whimpered again.

"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"

You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.

"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."

You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.

"Just for you", you whined.

Bradley chuckled.

"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."

A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.

He knew.

"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.

"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"

You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.

"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."

"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."

He was on you within a heartbeat.

One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.

You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.

You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.

"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."

His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.

"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.

"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."

And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

Just that you couldn't enjoy this.

You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.

You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.

"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."

"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."

You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.

You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.

"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."

Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.

He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.

And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.

Four months.

Four months and a tattoo.

And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.

You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.

This.

Him.

Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.

"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."

"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.

"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.

This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.

When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.

"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.

"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.

Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.

"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.

"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."

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unclewaynemunson · 9 months

Note

I definitely think it takes Eddie a while to accept that Steve changed. He remembers what he was like in high school.

When Steve asks him out, for whatever reason, Eddie says yes. But he’s determined not to fall in love, because deep down Harrington’s still a dick. But he’s cute, and Eddie can smile and play pretend.

But then! Steve goes full happy relationship mode, he tells Robin (obv), introduces Eddie to the other adults as his bf, and is just generally being sweet.

MY SWEET ANON I HOPE YOU'LL STILL SEE THIS!!!

I'm so sorry it took me ages to answer this one! But I really loved the idea of this (the good ol' steddie + misunderstanding about what they mean to each other with a dash of terrible communication skills my beloved) so i wanted to give it my proper attention, which i didn't have enough time for over the past few months. Buuut the words have finally found their way to my keyboard so here is the first part of what probably will turn into a 3-part ficlet, I hope it's something like what you had in mind when you sent this ask to me <3

---

Eddie has been acting weird all day. Maybe Steve is too much of a romantic, but he can't help it: he wanted to celebrate this day. Exactly a month ago, he asked Eddie out. And it's been good. They've spent a lot of time together. They've been on lots of dates, spent plenty of nights together... But today, things are different, somehow. Eddie is different. He turned Steve down for a dinner date, he didn't stop by Family Video during lunchtime, and when Steve shows up at the trailer to surprise him with flowers, he merely frowns and pulls back from their kiss before it can even properly get started.

'Everything alright?' Steve asks, trying to catch his boyfriend's gaze – which isn't exactly easy with how Eddie is turning away from him to not-so-gently put the flowers down in a corner of the trailer's living room.

'Yeah, sure,' Eddie mumbles, not really looking at him. 'It's just – I didn't really expect to see you today. We didn't have plans.'

Steve chuckles, trying to get the tension out of his chest. 'Didn't know I was expected to schedule an appointment before coming here.' He tries to play it off as a joke, but the tone of his voice doesn't really want to cooperate.

Eddie finally turns back towards him and Steve catches the end of an eye-roll.

'I'm just not feeling too great today, alright?' It sounds a bit stiff and Steve pauses. He wonders if he did something wrong, if he somehow invaded Eddie's space – even though he has showed up at the trailer on countless evenings in the past month.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Eddie answers, a little bit too fast. 'I told you, I'm not feeling so well.'

And now that he can see his face properly, Steve notices that Eddie is indeed looking paler than usual.

'Hey, don't worry about it,' he says. 'I can stay to take care of you, if you want to. We don't have to do anything. You can go to bed early and I'll keep you company. I can make you some soup, read to you... You could've just told me you're not feeling good, you know. I would've picked up some fruit on my way over here and stopped by the library for you.'

'You don't have to do any of that, Steve.'

Steve tries to ignore the fact that it's been ages since Eddie has last called him by his official first name. He doesn't like the sound of it.

'But I want to,' he says instead. He takes a step towards Eddie, lifts his arms to wrap them around him – but Eddie swats his arms away before he can properly embrace him.

'Don't.' He sounds cold and detached, so different from how he usually sounds. 'Don't act like this is something it isn't.'

'Like this is something –' Steve echoes, completely caught off-guard by this turn of events. 'Like what?'

'Jesus Christ, you really don't know when to stop, do you?'

'What?' He takes a stumbling step backwards, driven away by the force in Eddie's words.

'We're not – like that,' Eddie stutters out. 'We're just fucking around, aren't we? So you don't need to pretend. You don't need to bring me flowers. You don't need to take care of me when I'm sick. You don't owe me anything, alright? You can go home.'

Steve takes another step backwards, until his back collides with the door of the trailer. He blindly grabs the door handle behind him.

'Alright,' he says, trying desperately not to let his voice tremble audibly. 'I hear you, loud and clear. I'll – I'll leave you alone, then.'

Read pt2 here (Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #anon seriously thank you so much for sending this to me!! it's been a great scenario to explore #and my apologies for the angst lmao #but i promise more will follow soon #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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daysofyellowroses · 3 months

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fries

carmen berzatto x reader | 1.1k

prompt was: Carmy getting all sassy and dom like bc his girl spent money on herself instead of using his card/calling him and telling him that you wanted something and to pick it up off hold on his way home!! That is such a HC for me I feel Carmy would be super pouty if his girl bought something expensive or ‘necessary for him’ like your makeup, hair stuff, clothes, shoes, etc. ESP food he like gets so upset when she will pick herself up McDonald’s or smth and is like “baby why didn’t you tell me you were craving a burger and fries” - as requested by @thecapricunt1616 thank you so much, i hope you enjoy 🌼

🐻

Sometimes you think you know everything about your boyfriend. If someone quizzed you, you would ace it. It's only been just under a year since you started dating Carmy but in that time you had learned everything about him, or so you thought.

There were things that you didn't know every detail about, like his family, particularly his mom, but you knew that he would talk about those things in time, when he was ready.

What you didn't expect was that he would have a certain..kink, one you wouldn't have expected him to have but was a very pleasant surprise.

It had happened incrementally, you first noticed when you came home after work one day with a pair of new sneakers. When you showed them to Carm he seemed a little..off. It wasn't exactly something to celebrate but you found it a little odd that he didn't seem to care when usually he was so attentive and loving.

You put it down to a long day at work and forgot about it.

Until it happened again, when you came home after a splurge on makeup and skincare products. He found you putting them away in the bathroom and just walked away, leaving you deeply confused.

When you asked him if everything was okay he said it was, and you decided not to push it. You noticed that he was a little more attentive than usual, keeping you in his lap while you relaxed on the couch, insisted on getting you whatever you wanted, carried you to bed when you started falling asleep. It wasn't that he never did those things usually, you just felt like he was doing more somehow.

Deciding to test out the beginnings of a theory, you waited a week or so before deciding to really treat yourself, splashing out on a pair of expensive heels that you had wanted for so long. As you were the first one home, you put the shoes away and waited for Carmy to get home.

He was his usual sweet self, and you were a little excited to test out your theory. You waited until Carm was making dinner, and you were sitting on the counter watching him.

“Oh my god, I have to show you something,” You smiled, getting down from the counter. “I'll be right back.”

You went to your bedroom, opening the closet and reaching into the back to take out the bag with your new shoes before carrying it to the kitchen behind your back.

“Look what I got,” You grinned, holding out the bag. “I may have gone a little overboard but I really wanted these.”

You set the bag down on the ground and took the box out, feeling Carmy's eyes on you.

“How beautiful are these?” You opened the box and took out one of the shoes. “They were almost three hundred but I figure I'll keep them forever so..”

“Three hundred?” Carm raised a brow, his hand on his hip. “You spent three hundred?”

“Yes, I did,” You smiled, feeling like your theory was about to be proved. You looked at the shoe in your hand, turning it slowly. “But work is going well and I really wanted them so..”

“You shouldn't have bought them,” Carm sighed, reaching for the dish towel that was draped over his shoulder and wiping his hands. “That's too much.”

“I'll buy what I want,” You frowned, putting the shoe back in the box. “It's my money I'm spending, not yours.”

“But it should be.” Carmy muttered, meeting your eyes.

“What do you mean?” You asked, stepping closer to him and setting the box in your hands down on the counter. “I don't expect you to drop that kind of money on me.”

“I want to,” Carmy insisted, his arm moving around your waist. “I know that you can afford all those things you want, but..I want to treat you, I want you to tell me what you want and let me get if for you, or take my card and go get it.”

“Please don't feel like you have to do that,” You smiled, touching Carmy's cheek. “I don't care if you buy me things or I buy them myself, just being with you is all I want.”

Carm was quiet for a moment, gently stroking your waist before leaning in to kiss you, your arms moving around his neck.

“It's more than that,” Carm murmured softly against your lips, pulling back to meet your eyes. “I know you don't expect me to, and I know I don't have to but..the thought of seeing you in clothes that I bought you, knowing you're out treating yourself to things and using my money to do it..I want that.”

You take in his words, your hands lightly touching the back of Carm's neck. “Does it..does the thought of that do it for you?”

“Big time,” Carm nodded, and you felt your heart race. “I keep thinking about you coming home, showing off all the things you bought on my card, giving me a little show..”

“I think I know what I should buy first then.” You grinned, leaning in to kiss Carm.

Dinner is delayed, and you don't quite make it to the bedroom, but you feel like you've never been happier.

As it turned out, Carm wasn't lying about wanting you to spend his money. You didn't go crazy, you weren't going to buy something just for the sake of it. But when you came home with a bag full of new lingerie and handed his card back to him, Carm had you screaming like you never had before.

So, once a week or so you treat yourself to a little something, just to bring out a more possessive, dominant side of your boyfriend, loving how he can go from adorable and soft to calling you a spoiled brat and having you begging for more.

And apparently, his fondness for you spending his money wasn't limited to clothes, shoes and underwear, but there was one exception.

You had come home from work with a McDonald's, knowing Carmy would be home late and that you weren't in the mood to cook. You were just sitting down to eat it, scrolling through your phone when the front door opened.

“Hey,” You smiled, picking Carmy's card up from the table and taking a sip of your milkshake as you handed it to him.

“What's this?” Carm frowned, pointing to the food on the table.

“This?” You grinned, pointing to the McDonald's bag. “Just a little restaurant, you've probably never heard of it, it's only got like a billion locations.”

“Very funny,” Carm sighed, pushing his hand through his hair.

“Are you..pouting?” You grinned. “Over a burger?”

“I could have made you a better burger,” Camy shrugged. “That's all.”

“I know,” You nodded, swishing your shake with a grin. “But only your money can get this.”

“You think I can't make you a milkshake?” Carmy raised a brow.

“Not like this,” You teased. “You don't know the secret ingredients.”

“I'm making you a damn shake. And a burger."

#the bear #the bear 🐻#the bear fic #the bear fics #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #request

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cdragons · 3 months

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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 2

Previous Part, Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But silver linings exist in the sticky toffee pudding Mrs. Gavey made for you.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix is Felix (a ho), Reader finally eating some good fucking food, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver is Oliver (a creep), alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: BRUH??? HOW DID I GET SO MANY NOTES IN PART 1??? Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive. I received so many questions and comments, which have all been great! Thank you for reading this story, and I hope that this part lives up the first one. Also, this is technically a Christmas fic bc it just fits with the story's timeline. I would like to thank Grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

Christmas Eve - Saltburn 2006

“Oh! Oh – y-yes, yes, yes! FUCK!”

Fucking the girl underneath so hard to the point where she likely saw stars. Meanwhile, Felix was trying to finish as soon as possible.

“So big! God, you’re so fucking big – FUCK!”

He brought her to his room and in his bed because he thought her hair just barely matched yours, and if he didn’t think too much about it – her voice sounded a bit like yours too.

But he made a mistake.

The girl – whatever her name was – sounded nothing like you. Her hair was nowhere near as pretty and shiny as yours, and her nails were fucking long and sharp that they were digging for his blood. Her makeup too – fucking hell, it was like she trying out for the opera with how much she caked onto herself.

Every time Felix saw you – whether in the library or under a tree – your nails were trimmed short. And from what he remembered, you didn’t plaster yourself in cheap cosmetics.

No, you never needed to. Your style of choice was simpler and more elegant than most girls he knew, including his sister, Venetia. Granted, he loved his sister to bits and pieces, but the girl loved her spray tan in the winter.

But worst of all – she didn’t have your eyes. Her gaze was too mindless and soft, a mix of adoration and unparalleled lust. Your eyes held vivacious rage and

“Felix?” What’s-Her-Face asked. “You okay?”

Fuck, he was getting soft.

Closing his eyes, Felix knew the only way he would get to finish was to think of you. He thought about the last time he saw you. He remembered how hard the wind blew and how cold it was that night. He felt himself harden at the memory of how alive your eyes were right before and after you broke his nose. His back still had the welts from the blows of your notebook. Every time he saw them in the mirror, he would lovingly stroke each bruise because they were the only evidence that you were real.

That you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

Letting his mind run wild, Felix imagined you here instead of this imposter. He’d imagine you on top – no way a woman like you would let anyone be on top, not even him. Fuck, you’d be the most wild thing ever to exist, he’s sure he’d let you do anything to him.

His heart, his soul – whether you cared for him or wished to crush him under your shoe – everything of his would be yours.

He wondered if you were the type to be into using a riding crop.

Regaining his vigor with his eyes still closed, he imagined you riding him until oblivion. Your breasts would fit perfectly in his hands as you would still be bouncing on his cock. Your head would be thrown back, and his eyes would roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your pussy tightening.

Oh God, he was going to blow.

Quickening his pace, the girl that wasn’t you was full-on howling in unbridled pleasure. When she climaxed, he could finally let go and come. Ropes of his cum spilled into the condom as he shouted out your name.

Falling to his side, he hadn’t bothered to check if Lady Not You remained in the sheets. It didn’t matter if she did; Felix was too exhausted to care. Finally feeling like he could rest, he fell into a dream about the day he felt his life truly begin – the day he met you.

First Week of Oxford University Michaelmas Term of 2006

Felix remembered the first time he saw you – it was after the first week since the term began. He and his mates were fucking around in Radcliffe, and the old bag running the desk was having a cow with them. He was bored out of his mind when all of a sudden – he spotted you on the upper level. You wore dark wash blue straight-leg jeans with rolled-up cuffs and white high-top Converse sneakers. It looked like your shirt must have been at least a decade old, given how the black-dyed cotton was faded to dark gray, and the paint looked cracked and chipped. Your thick locks were gathered in a loose but simple braid. Unlike everyone else, your eyes weren’t focused on him – but on the structure and life around him.

He had to know more.

Slipping a tenner to one of his friends to cause a distraction, he used the diversion to make his way to your spot on the second floor. Having a closer view, you were the most vividly gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was worried that his movement toward you would alert you of his presence, and you would only scurry off – and away from him. But judging by the slight bobbing of your head, you wouldn’t be able to hear him since you were listening to whatever was playing through your earbuds.

All the better for him to keep observing you.

As he inched closer, his eyes caught the tiny wisps of your hair that weren’t contained by your messy braid, creating a lovely frame of your face while also bringing out the shine in your eyes. You had a simple gold chain around your neck with a circular locket hanging. From the side, Felix could faintly distinguish the words “Bon Jovi” in blue cracked paint and “1989” underneath a skull wearing red aviators.

He didn’t know who the fuck Bon Jovi was, but clearly, he was someone pretty fucking important to you.

But what captured Felix’s interest was how engrossed you were with the scene unfolding underneath you. Your eyes very rarely broke away from the view – only to quickly glance at the hardcover sketchbook you balanced on the white-painted railing. Whenever you glanced down at your sketch, Felix could see how long and thick your eyelashes were. Each time you blinked, it was like his mind broke down the movement of your eyelids frame by frame as if he were editing a Garry Marshall film. He wished he could be your cheek at that moment. If only to feel the gentle flutter of your lashes’ touch. Deep in your concentration, your lips were slightly pursed in a way that brought out their luscious fullness.

He couldn’t help but imagine how they would look around his cock. If he came inside your mouth, he was sure that some of his spunk would leak past your lips before you tried your best to swallow it down.

He was so lost in the fantasy of you and him that he hadn’t realized you had been calling out to him. Breaking out of his reverie, he looked down to see you right before him. And you looked downright pissed at him.

“Hey! HEY!” you exclaimed while waving your hand to his face to catch his attention.

You were American. How adorable.

“If you could stop staring at me like a fucking serial killer, I think your ‘mates’ are trying to get your attention.”

You pointed your finger at his group of friends still on the first floor. It seemed that they successfully drove away the grounds' warden. The old bat was now fixated on putting away all the returned or misplaced books on the shelves.

Must have been Farleigh’s idea.

Anyway, back to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, can I get your –” but you were gone by the time he turned back to you.

Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor. He quickly glanced around to see if you had just moved to a different area. But you were gone. Racing the stairwell, hoping to catch up to you, he found that you had already walked too far for him to call you out without seeming completely desperate.

Except that he was.

He watched you walk away – shoulders back, posture straight, and head held high – and thought at how utterly unfair it was to him that you walked away from him so beautifully without giving him your number, or at least your name.

Felix woke up in a dark room; he was confused as to why the maids hadn’t drawn curtains – until he realized that Mum had likely sent them for their holiday after the party was finished.

It's too bad that he wasn’t there to see everyone out like a good son. But he wouldn’t beat himself over about it too much – chances were that his parents were also hungover off their asses too. He didn’t even want to imagine V’s state right now.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Felix dug into his closet to find whatever someone wore the morning after fucking a completely faceless stranger to scratch an itch meant for someone else. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little note on his nightstand. Swiftly plucking it with two fingers, he could barely make out the words written in swirly cursive.

My name’s Cassie. Just thought you should know for next time. Call me: XXXX-XXXXXXX 💋

Felix scoffed before tossing the dingy paper to the floor – destined to be forgotten before the next hour came – before locking himself in the bathroom to take a piss and wash off the smell of booze and cigs off his skin.

By the time he was finished, it was probably close to noon. He would have made his way down to the kitchens to fix something up – but he was immediately met with Farleigh as soon as he stepped out of the doorway. Bastard startled him up so bad that he practically jumped a foot off the ground.

“Fucking – really, Farleigh?” he asked. “Practically gave me a heart attack first thing in the morning.”

“It’s almost one so that ship has sailed.” He quipped back. “Aunt Elspeth and Uncle James were quite distraught when their golden son wasn’t seen by any of the guests when the party ended. It wasn't good when the Carltons’ daughter was gone for almost an hour. But at least she returned to her loving parents’ arms by the time it was to go home.”

Farleigh shot his cousin a curious look.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’m pretty sure her name was Cassandra.”

Felix just shrugged.

“Don’t know about any Cassandras. Fucked a Cassie last night, though.”

Farleigh snorted a laugh as they went to the kitchens to see if any food was prepared.

“Merry Christmas, indeed.”

A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Felix asked his cousin something important.

“Hey, do you think she’s thinking about me?”

“Cassie or Cassandra? Because the answer’s probably yes anyway.”

“No, not them. Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

Farleigh immediately stopped. He genuinely wondered how Felix managed to get into Oxford sometimes. Sure, he was a legacy kid, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.

“You really think,” he slowly began, “that the girl who dragged you out of the library in front of everyone, broke your nose, beat you bruised with only her flimsy-ass notebook – because you ruined her painting – would be thinking about you?”

Judging by the look in his cousin’s eyes, yes. Sighing at the incredulity of it all, Farleigh could only shake his head before finding something to eat and drink away the migraine he could feel was coming.

Watching his cousin walk away from him, Felix knew he thought he was fighting a losing battle. But he wasn’t too worried. Everything would change during the upcoming term. Oxford was its own world – broken away from everything else. All that mattered to anyone in Oxford was this world's history, present, and future. And now – as it was made clear now to Felix – you were also part of that world. He would get to find you again and make sure to bring you to the point where you would look for him the way he would look for you.

Still, a selfish part of Felix hoped that you were even just the slightest bit miserable being away from him as he was being away from you.

Manchester, December 2006

You were having the time of your life.

Michael invited you to his home in Manchester for Christmas to spend the holidays with his family. You refused, at first, the idea of being a burden to your best friend during a time when it should be spent with family. Michael liked to put up a big front, but you knew that he was just as – if not more – excited to spend Christmas with his folks than you were before the “incident.”

But he insisted, and you could not have been more grateful for the invitation. But you wish you were a tad bit more graceful with your reaction when he first brought it up.

Oxford Dining Hall December 2006

You were angrily shoveling pasta into your mouth at the time. Sadly, the appallingly bland marinara sauce paired with the overcooked spaghetti and dry meatballs was the university's most flavorful dish.

“Come home with me.” He told you one evening during dinner time at the dining hall.

Caught off guard, you half-choked on the mountain of overcooked noodles in your mouth. Immediately, you reached for your glass of water to wash it down and to prevent a truly horrifically dull death.

“What?” you croaked out.

“Come with me to my house for Christmas.” He clarified, utterly unfazed by your near death. “Come on, you’ve been complaining to me all week about not being able to fly back for the holidays. And no one should have to spend Christmas eating whatever slop they’ll end up serving.”

“Michael,” you began, “I am not going to impose on your family like that. And you seemed to have forgotten one key detail: I can’t leave until I re-do the painting.”

“So, come over after you finish,” he reasoned, “I know you remember what to do, and that already cuts the time you originally spent on it in half. You won’t need a whole month to do it again, so come over when you finish. Plus, you don’t have your other classes to worry about.”

You knew that he was right – he was right about a lot of things – but the offer still made you uncomfortable. Scholarship student or not, you were no one’s charity case. If there was one thing you hated more than being underestimated, it was being pitied by people who didn’t know you. That wasn’t the case with Michael, but the feeling made you feel small.

You hated feeling small.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I would be imposing on your family. Your mom’s a nurse, right? She’s probably been looking forward to your homecoming for ages now. Informing her that she should be expecting a complete stranger, who would be staying for two weeks, would be a huge burden on her. She shouldn’t have that kind of stress burdening her during the holidays.”

He rolled his eyes at your concern.

“Don’t be a drama queen. I already have one in my life, and I’m genetically attached to her. And you’re hardly a stranger. Mum’s always asking when you would be visiting anyway. She’s worried if you’re eating enough or getting enough sleep. She’s a bit looney like that.”

You shot your friend a glare. He was trying way too hard to keep a cool, nonchalant façade. Michael Gavey was a total sucker for his family but in the sweetest way. During the long study sessions that stretched into the night, Michael’s defenses were lowered, and you could get more information about his life and home.

His mom was a Manchester Royal Infirmary nurse practitioner, while his dad was an accountant at Pearl Lemon. They met at a coffee shop. He was working as a barista to pay off his student loans, and she was a nurse just starting her residency. He wowed her with his terrible jokes, and she charmed him with her infectious smile, and the rest was history. Three years into their marriage, baby Mikey was born, with the addition of his baby sister Lilypad a decade later.

When you remained silent, Michael knew your stubbornness would give him endless headaches. But you were his best friend, the only person he saw worth befriending in the infinite sea of prats and slags that overpopulated their university. You laughed at his shitty jokes, and he snorted at yours. You would try to trip him up with out-of-pocket sums; he’d laugh when he answered them before your calculator. You had his back when some rugby bloke pushed him around, and he had yours when some fake tanned bitch called you a tramp.

“Look, I can’t promise it’ll be anything like your home. I know you miss your mum’s cooking and your dad’s drunk stories. But my parents already made me promise that I would get you to visit because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone and you’re going to die without me here and blah blah blah. Just say you’ll come? Lil’ will murder me if you don’t come. She’s been dying to hear all about the Great Apple and Broadway.”

“…It’s actually called the Big Apple.”

Your comment brought a loud and rather unattractive snort to leave his mouth. And the chuckle that came after brought a small and tentative smile on you.

“Look, are you coming or not?”

You had to admit, the invitation sounded welcoming. You were dying to put faces on the people that made Michael Gavey, well, Michael Gavey. He rarely talked about his family, but his tone was warm and soft when he did. It was such a sweet contrast to the snarky little shit you were used to, and so temptation won in the end.

“…Fine.” You agreed after dragging out the tension. “But I am bringing presents for all your family members, and you have to help me. And any funds that were spent on me are going to be paid back before summer. Got it?”

A true, genuine smile crept across Michael’s face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“…Will I be seeing any baby pictures of you?”

“Don’t push it.”

You weren’t sure what exactly to expect from Michael’s family – maybe they were wonderful, or maybe the idea of an American that hailed from a city with some of the highest crime rates in the US gave them hives – but you were sure that you wouldn’t be alone if Michael were with you. Safe to say, your expectations were set way too low.

His dad's arms immediately enveloped Michael after you two exited at your stop and the station. You had always assumed most British father figures to be a bit cold and distant, but it seemed that stereotype didn’t apply to his dad. You went in for a handshake but were also caught in a warm hug. You introduced yourself while expressing your gratitude to him and his wife’s generosity.

“Oh no, please,” he insisted, “please call me Greg. Mr. Gavey was my father’s name, and I don’t think I’ve grown that many wrinkles yet.”

When you arrived at his home, it was a medium-sized red brick building in the suburbs. After entering the door and Greg announcing your arrival, quick footsteps ran down the stairs, and a young girl with golden honey curls in pajamas and a pink tutu ran to Michael.

“MIKEY!” she exclaimed. “YOU’RE HOME! Did you miss me? Why did it take you so long? You said your tests were done by the third. It’s the fifteenth today!”

“Lily, Lily,” Michael breathily laughed, “calm down. Of course, I missed you. But I had to wait for my friend because she’s hopeless with directions.”

“That is not true!” you blurted. “It’s not my fault I come from a grid system!”

“Anyway, this is my very good friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my little sister, Lily.”

Lily turned to you with a big smile and curtsied like a perfect ballerina.

“Hello! My name is Lily! I’m eight, but I’ll be nine in April!”

You almost squealed at how adorable the sight was. You crouched down and mirrored her smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Lily! I’m Y/N, and I’m turning nineteen this coming b/m! Your brother here told me so much about you.”

“He did?” she asked with wide eyes.

“He did! He told you how smart you are in math and that you’re an amazing ballerina.”

Lily shyly looked down as a massively cute blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“I wanna be good at sums like Mikey. That way, I can help Daddy with his work like Mikey did when he was my age.”

“Ok!” interjected ‘Mikey,’ cheeks equally flushed at the slipped detail from his baby sister. “Time to find Mum. She in the kitchen?”

“Yep! She’s making roast chicken and mash with peas!” She turned to you. “Is Y/N allergic to anything?”

“Nope!” you replied, “Only dust, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be in the dishes.”

Meeting Michael’s mom – who was absolutely gorgeous, by the way – was another huge highlight of the break so far. Hearing you three entering the kitchen, she immediately turned off the stove and dashed over to hug you and her son.

“Oh, Y/N!” she warmly greeted you. “I’m so happy that you were able to come. Michael has told me so much about you. Have you adjusted well in Oxford? The time difference isn’t putting too much strain on you, is it? You both look so skinny – are they feeding you at all at that school?”

“Careful, Mum. You might scare her off.”

You shot him a mocking glare before answering his mother.

“Don’t be mean! And I think I’ve adjusted well enough to the university. Jet lag wasn’t too much of an issue because my parents made sure I moved into my dorm early and adjusted to the time zone changes before classes started. The food they serve at the dining halls doesn’t compare to homecooked meals, so I haven’t had much of an appetite. But after walking into the kitchen, I think I’ll be able to regain it once I have your cooking!”

“Oh, you are so sweet! I’ll let you get settled. Greg and I cleaned up the guest room for you. It’s next to Lilypad’s room. She’s excited to hear any stories you have about New York. It’s just on the second floor at the end of the hall.”

Walking back to the entrance to grab your bags, you were just in earshot of Michael and his mom’s conversation.

“Michael! Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful! I thought she was a model from Vogue when she first walked in! Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two? Should I expect any grandchildren in the near future?”

“Mum!” he loudly groaned as you softly chortled.

Christmas with the Gaveys was so much fun. You played a dozen board games. Michael was a beast in Poker and Uno while you cleared the board with Scrabble and Black Jacks. Mrs. Gavey was a fantastic cook – you couldn’t remember the last time you had any meal that had more than salt as a seasoning since coming to England. You tried sticky toffee pudding for the first time – you almost cried at that first bite. Everyone was so warm to each other and showered one another with so much love. Most of the neighbors watched Michael grow up, and many shared his childhood stories. It reminded you a lot of the Christmases at your parents’ apartment back in Queens.

The community and camaraderie- it was like you were back at home with your family. Your mom would pick up a roast duck from Peking Duck Sandwich Stall in Flushing while you and your dad would go to Eileen’s to wait in line to pick up your favorite cheesecake. The building would have a huge potluck on Christmas Eve, and everyone would bring a dish. Your neighbor, Mrs. Wong, would bring out everything necessary to make her famous dumplings. Everything was made from scratch. You and the kids of the building would learn how to wrap the fillings in the wrappers while the adults made the wrappers and fillings. You would play White Elephant with the other kids on Christmas Day, which usually ended in a fistfight.

You still missed home. You missed your parents and cat. You missed making cookies with your parents because Christmas was the only time when both of them had time off from work. While his school was still on break, you and your dad would take advantage of your mom’s employee benefits and watch a bunch of live Broadway shows.

When your parents skyped you, you cried after seeing their faces for the first time in so long. School was so stressful, and you were starting to regret traveling so far when you could have easily gone to a school so much closer to home. You tried your best to reschedule your flight, but round-trip flights were expensive, and they increased exponentially during the holidays.

You cried for an hour after seeing the prices online.

But thanks to Michael, you felt so much less alone than you would have if you had stayed at Oxford for the entire break. You introduced him to your parents during the call, and they loved him. It was such a massive relief that they liked your friend, especially because of how much his friendship meant to you. When he left the room, your parents basically forced you to ensure he would come with you to stay with you when you returned for the summer. They were shocked when you told them he had never had fresh jianbing or a decent slice of pizza. After the call, you were confident they were making a list of every store and stall you and Michael would visit during his visit.

Classic Queens’ family behavior – showing love by forcing food down your throat whether you like it or not.

At the moment, you were at the window in your room and looking at the moon. It was about three in the morning, and the rest of the household was asleep.

Well – everyone except one.

Michael had crept in about half an hour ago, and the two of you were just looking at the stars. You hadn’t expected to see so many – you could only see the lights from planes and aircraft at night back home. There wasn’t any talking, only comforting silence. The scene outside your window with the fresh snow on top of the rooftops and ground. Each house had a slight outline of their Christmas tree lights shining from their lower windows.

Your fingers itched for your pencil and sketchbook to immortalize it.

Ever so softly, Michael broke the silence while looking at you.

“So,” he began, “how would you rate your first English Christmas in the Gavey Household?”

You looked back at him with the biggest smile that Michael had ever seen on you.

“Ten out of ten. Would pay to see lightsaber reenactment again.”

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

Suburban Prescot, Liverpool December 2006

In a well-established suburban home in Prescot, a short boy with crystal blue eyes and inky black hair locked himself in his room. The noise and babble from downstairs gave him a headache. He hated his parents. He hated his sisters. He hated being invisible and being from nowhere.

He had to get out of here.

In his backpack, a photo of a specific heir of a manor was safely tucked in the bottom. The new term was going to be different for him. He would make sure of it.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @valeskafics, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by commenting!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

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roseykat · 4 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/roseykat/737270057334341632/can-you-make-a-reaction-where-the-reader-is-needy

You know what would be funny about this? That after they're done with the business and come back to her, all horny and ready for action, now she's the one that's busy or not in the mood anymore. Maybe she took care of herself already.

I'd like to see how they react when the positions are reversed and they're forced to wait instead (or deal with it themselves instead)

Ohohoooo Lyra thank you for this opportunity. I had to go all out.

Here is the context to these reactions prior to this post if anyone is wondering lol

TAGS: smut as per, female masturbation, swearing, begging, teasing, mentions of sex toys and restraints, orgasms, nudes/explicit videos.

A/N: I just realised Hyunjin's one is a bit more softer lmao

BANG CHAN

With Chan, he said for you to give him twenty minutes to finish his work, and within that span of time, you’re no longer preoccupied with being so pent up and horny for him. Instead, you’ve grown tired given how late at night it is, resulting in you falling asleep on the couch.

Chan on the other hand managed to work his way through to the prospect that you’re both going to fuck, thinking about it in the back of his mind while he works that it turns him on. He’s never fucked you in his studio - yet. Thought about it however? Multiple times.

He’s always envisioned him fucking you over his desk, having you ride him on his chair, even the couch you lie on is where he'd fuck you too. The both of you would be able to make as much noise as possible with the room being soundproof. Therefore, Chan was hoping there would be a day for it to come only for him to turn around and see you dozing away peacefully.

“Baby,” Chan calls out to you softly, shaking your arm gently.

You open one eye to see that he’s finally finished but wondered briefly if it had actually been twenty minutes or two hours that went by, “done?”

“Yes, just like I promised,” he says.

“Okay,” you stretch and sit up. “Let’s go home.”

Chan stares at you blankly, “but I thought - didn’t you say-“

“I did, twenty minutes ago,” you cut him off. “But, now I’m tired.”

He doesn’t understand, “you don’t want to do it here?”

“Not at the moment, no,” you say to him. “Don’t wanna get caught either.”

You pick up your bag from the side of the couch leaving Chan still remaining in his seat. He looked devastated and surprised at the same time at your response but was nonetheless respectful of your decision. His dream of fucking you in his studio, for the time being was now put on hold.

MINHO

Minho comes back home, almost with a skip in his step knowing that he’s about to get laid. It’s been a while since he fucked you last. But that’s his fault for neglecting that aspect - neglecting you more importantly, above anything else.

As he arrives home, he sets his keys on the hook by the door and takes his shoes off before searching for you throughout the apartment. Minho spots you in the bathroom, bathrobe on, hair bundled up on top of your head with a towel, and a face mask on.

He knows that once you’ve done your skincare, there’s no chance of him fucking you tonight. It means that you’re only prepped and all ready to go to bed, not ready for anything physical.

“I thought you were horny?” Minho asks, visibly confused.

“I was…but now I’m not, and I want to go to bed.”

“W-What about me?” He almost panics.

You chortle, making your way out of the bathroom, past him, and onto the edge of the bed, “what about you?”

“Well I need you too you know.”

“Maybe wait until tomorrow. Plus, I’m spent,” you respond. “All those toys you bought me really did do the trick. I came so many times without you.”

Minho pretends not to be pissed, but he most certainly is, “I’m glad to hear that they have some use then.”

“What do you mean ‘some’ use? I use them quite often thank you very much” you tell him in a rather indignant tone of voice.

“Why use them when you have me?” He retorts, taking offence to that information.

“Toys are more convenient,” you reply just to rub salt into his wound. “I can use them whenever and wherever. Can’t use you when you’re one - never here, and two - don’t make me cum as hard.”

Minho knows you didn’t mean that. You had to be fucking with him. Either way, just hearing you say that makes his blood start to boil.

“I’ll fuck that attitude right out you,” he glares down his nose at you.

You test him even further, “if that’s what you wanna do then you’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow, just like I said.”

CHANGBIN

It hadn't been long since Changbin left for the gym. As much as you wanted him to stay behind and spend some time in the bedroom, you knew you should let him do what he wants. But since that hour and a half that flew by with his personal trainer, you had found yourself busying all around the house.

You had some breakfast, cleaned up in the kitchen, lounge, bedroom, and even tackled the bathroom, all before Changbin came back home. You felt satisfied and accomplished that you were able to do so much in such a timeframe.

Changbin also felt accomplished, but for completely different reasons. He's always guaranteed to feel good after a hard gym session. So much that adrenaline pumps through his veins half an hour after, especially when he’s hitting his PB’s. He doesn’t know what to do with himself other than what he thinks he knows best…

“Whatcha making?” He asks once he's back home, leaning against the counter as he watches you chop up a whole bunch of fruit.

“A lot of fruit salad because I knew you'd be hungry after the gym,” you answer. “Plus I wanted some too.”

“Yum,” Changbin says, dawdling a few steps to stand right behind you. "But I'm not hungry for fruit."

His hands gently hold your hips, pressing you flush against his. He's not always bold like this when it comes to admitting that he's turned on. Changbin will state that he is sometimes, but doesn't always act on it. Usually it's you that needs him. Always jumping on him the minute you feel the slightest bit horny.

"I can make you something else if you want?" You suggest, deciding in the moment that you're going to make this hell for him.

“I want you,” he whispers against the back of your neck.

“Not sure if we have that in the fridge.”

Changbin chuckles, "funny. Whatever happened to you wanting me to stay longer this morning?"

"Not too sure what you're talking about," you say cluelessly.

"I'm one hundred percent sure you wanted me to dick you down before I left for the gym," Changbin guesses very rightly.

"Is that what you thought?”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

“That’s a shame,” you sigh with regret. “Maybe if you were here earlier, you might’ve gotten what you actually wanted. So for the meantime you’ll just have to settle for a bowl of fruit.”

You finish chopping up the fruit, then place all of the different pieces into a bowl and turn around on the spot to hand it to him. Grabbing your own bowl too, you head over to the table to sit down leaving Changbin in the kitchen, turned on and befuddled.

HYUNJIN

Fifteen minutes was all Hyunjin gave you after wanting some time to finish off his artwork before heading to the bedroom with you. He had spent practically all day fixated on his hobby while you were at work and came home visibly flustered - needing him so badly.

Unfortunately for you, fifteen minutes takes up too much of your night to wait. It was then that you decided to take matters into your own hands and get yourself off instead. All you needed was your vibrator and a homemade sex tape you and Hyunjin filmed on your phone from over a month ago for you to cum in minutes.

That’s all you needed just one orgasm to settle yourself down. To drain all the stress from your body. Although, it was a bit hard to stop after one when you had made it to three. After that, you were just about ready to head to bed.

At that point, Hyunjin finished off the area of the piece he was working on and departed with it for the time being. As he was cleaning up, the sound of running water from the bathroom catches his attention.

"Baby?" Hyunjin knocks on the door.

"Mm? You can come in, I'm just in the bath," you say to him.

He opens the door and walks in to see that you were fully relaxing in a nice hot bubble bath. There was a scented candle lit on the counter, creating a dim setting and a beautiful aroma that filled the room.

"I thought you were waiting for me on the bed," he says, pulling up one of the chair stools from the corner of the bathroom to the side of the tub.

"I was," you say to him. "But I got impatient so I dealt with it myself."

Hyunjin was annoyed to hear that. Not annoyed at you, but himself, "I'm sorry I made you wait. Over a stupid painting of all things-"

"It's fine Hyunnie," you quickly tell him, hoping that he won't feel guilty about it.

"You're not still in the mood are you?" He tries his luck.

"Sorry baby," you respond regretfully. "I'm just so tired."

He thought as much, but Hyunjin isn't mad. He'd never get angry or upset with you for not doing something you don't feel like doing. He is however, happy that you don't feel pressured into fulfilling his needs too.

"That's okay love, I'll cook us some dinner yeah?"

JISUNG

Ever since Jisung saw the state you were in since they finished the show, he couldn’t sit still throughout the interview that took place prior. All he could think about was how many different ways he was going to fuck you when he goes back to the hotel room.

He wants to have you ride him in the bathtub - watching your tits bounce in his face and for him to suck. He wants to fuck you against the wall of the shower, or fuck you against the windows for everyone to see. To fuck you on the desk, on the bed, even the floor.

Thinking about it all, Jisung had fully worked himself up that he swore he was semi-hard during the interview. If you hadn’t of headed back to the hotel, Jisung would’ve found you, taken you into a dressing room, and fucked you raw there.

But no. He had to deal with a painful hard on that he was trying to conceal from everyone on the ride from the venue to the hotel. Once he had made it up to the room in a frantic rush, he closes and locks the door behind him and spots you on your phone, sitting on the bed.

“Please, please, please, please I need you so bad,” he says, nearly gasping for air as he speaks.

Jisung paces over to you and kneels on the floor before the edge of the bed as his head rests between your legs, nuzzling into the inside of your knee. His hands glide up your the sides of your legs, right up the waistband of your pyjama shorts. He was waiting for you to give him the green light to tear them down and eat you out like he’s been deprived of it.

His sudden appearance took you by surprise at first, but after seeing that state he was in, it was like low hanging fruit - an opportunity too good to pass up.

“But you left me Sungie,” you say mournfully. “I had to get off all by myself.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I did say it was only going to take an hour, but it wasn’t my fault because the interview took longer than it should’ve. They kept asking-“

As he babbles away his excuse, almost like he’s about to cry, you can’t help but laugh silently in the back of your mind at how quick Jisung can just flip like a switch. Before he was smug and cocky about leaving you flustered when you needed him. Now he’s on his knees, literally begging for your body.

You use your foot to palm over the hard tent in his pants, forcing him to stifle whimpers, “you’ll be lucky if you even get to cum in your pants Han Jisung."

FELIX

Felix had spent the last half an hour listening to you whine, moan, cry, even scream in the background as he was gaming. Prior to this, he had you lie at the end of his bed, bound pathetically, and tortured with a vibrator that he carefully mounted over your clit. After leaving you like that, his instructions were clear - don’t cum.

As if you were going to listen to him.

Felix had no idea that you came. Multiple times in fact. You managed to pass off your orgasms as frustrated moans without him noticing. Felix should’ve realised after he finished gaming when he turned around and saw the wet mess you involuntarily made on his bed. He didn’t care though, Felix just wanted to fuck you, and was ready for it too.

“Good girl,” he praises, turning the vibrator off and removing it, thin strings of cum still sticking to the toy as it’s being moved.

He could’ve fucked you like this; bound and helpless, but the biggest mistake he made was releasing you from the restraints. Now you were able to move, to stand up from the bed and head over towards the bathroom.

“Thank you,” you say to him before he can even register what you were doing.

“W-Where are you going?” He asks, puzzled.

"Going to have a shower now."

"You're not...you don't want me to fuck you?" Felix responds, struck with so much surprise that his mouth remains ajar.

"I came though so..."

"You came? When I told you not to?" He questions.

"Come on,” you jibe at him. “You didn't actually think that I wasn't going to, after just leaving me like that?"

"Can't I fuck you then?" He urges his suggestion.

"Tonight maybe, if I'm not tired," you shrug. "Looks like you'll have to take care of yourself in the meantime."

Felix doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to take care of himself. He wants you instead. But that was to be a lesson learnt on his behalf for not fully acknowledging your needs.

SEUNGMIN

It had been hours since you saw Seungmin last. Whilst you had the home to yourself, he was at the company with Jisung, piecing together the last of a song they want to release in the future. You knew how hard he was working on it and even felt a bit guilty after almost interrupting it completely from earlier on.

It’s not always like you to let your needs get the better of you. In saying that, they’re your primal needs. Being horny is not exactly something you can help and having a boyfriend like Seungmin, there is zero guarantee that you'll behave yourself.

He's a fine man and the thought of his body and all the instances when you've had sex were used as a reference to help get yourself off while he was absent. Straight after that, you came right back to your senses, truly reinforcing the meaning of 'post-nut clarity'.

Since you had no idea when Seungmin was returning, you weren't going to wait around for him and decided to get out of the house for a bit after showering up and getting ready. You managed to take yourself to a nice cafe, pop into some stores to look at clothes, purchase a few other items - all before Seungmin realised you weren’t home and called you straight away.

"Yes," you answer.

"Where are you?" he gets straight to the point.

"I went out," you respond. "Why's that?"

"It's just that I'm home and I was hoping that you were too."

"Oh, no I'll be out for a while," you tell him, hearing a disgruntled noise on the other end of the line.

"How long?"

"A couple of hours I guess? Why?" You ask again.

"Because I'm fucking hard, and I need you."

You stop dead in your tracks, mouth slightly parted in shock. Seungmin very rarely admits things like this. The majority of the time, he wants to make it about you rather than him. He delights in the reactions he can bring out of you when you're in the exact same state that he's got himself into now. And for what reason you're not too sure.

When he left the house, he didn't reciprocate any sign of being turned on, at least not as much as you were. Maybe, as he was away, he was thinking of you - he had to have been thinking about you to work himself up like that. Then for him to admit it is something else...

"Really?" You reply. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Seungmin groans, "come home please. I need to fuck you - that's what I'm going to do about it."

"Hmm, I dunno. I am supposed to be meeting up with a friend soon..."

"Reschedule with them or go later,” he suggests, growing steadily impatient. “Please come home, for me.”

“Nah, I dunno,” you sigh. “I don’t want to be that friend.”

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last until then,” Seungmin says to himself even though you can hear him loud and clear. He does sound really desperate.

“Sorry Minnie, looks like you’ll have to figure this one out on your own.”

JEONGIN

The few sources of motivation that Jeongin had to drag him throughout the remainder of dance practice were a couple of explicit photo of yourself. That was to be followed up with a five second video of you pleasuring yourself in front of a mirror, waiting for Jeongin to come home.

He made sure that his phone was on mute and that nobody was close by just in case. Once he was safe, Jeongin played the video. Watching you tease your clit, fingers sliding down to your wet hole but not fully fucking yourself.

Jeongin swallows, exits out of the video, locks his phone, then tries desparately to forget the images he just saw in order to continue with the last ten minutes of dance practice. But as soon as that's over, he's out the door and doesn't look back. On his way home, he decides to flick you a message as a forewarning for what's about to happen when he arrives.

From Jeongin: I asked you to send me another pic, not a video of you playing with yourself. Think I might have to punish you for that.

To his displeasure though, he never received your response. All he gets is an empty apartment, nobody else home except him. So he decides to text you again.

From Jeongin to you: where are you??

To Jeongin from you: out

From Jeongin to you: now you respond to my text

To Jeongin from you: didn’t even see it sorry

From Jeongin to you: okay well, you can come home now.

To Jeongin from you: what for? I’m at the supermarket getting groceries

From Jeongin to you: shit, ring me

You look down at the messages from Jeongin with suspicion. He was acting weird, but that’s probably because you had in fact sent him a series of nudes this morning that he’s clearly going feral over. However, you decide to do as he asks if you and ring him.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Please get me off.”

Your eyes widen, “whatever happened to ‘hello’?”

“Y/N I’m serious,” Jeongin responds pleadingly.

“I’m in a public place full of people Jeongin, now isn’t really a good time,” you tell him flatly. “Plus, you have hands.”

“Hands that aren’t going to do the trick because I need you,” he replies.

“Oh, so you need me?” You tease him.

“Yes, fuck - I need you, please just-“

“Hold on my phones about die, I’ll see you when I get home.”

The line on Jeongin’s phone cuts as he looks down at his screen in horror as if the device is melting through his fingers. His heart plummets into his stomach. There’s no way you just left him like that. You wouldn’t do that to him. You wouldn’t just leave him hard and horny. You’re supposed to be his good girl.

Supposed to be at least.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #felix smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #i.n smut

406 notes · View notes

theostrophywife · 6 months

Text

kiss with a fist | chapter ten.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: the way i loved you - taylor swift.

author's note: get in, besties. we're crawling out of the trenches. i hope ya'll aren't too mad at me after this.

The fallout from your fight with Theo wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Mostly because you spent the entire weekend holed up in your dorm and avoiding the nuclear aftermath. It was a coward’s approach, but you were content to let sleeping dogs lie. You didn’t know if you could bear facing the others.

The newfound friendships you had formed with the Slytherins were all sure to implode given the circumstances. Theo was one of their oldest friends and they were loyal to their own. Once Theo told them what had gone down between you, they would undoubtedly take his side. You would've. The worst part was, you couldn't even blame them for it.

The argument with Theo hurt. Because you knew each other so well, he knew exactly what to say to push your buttons. You were so, so angry in the moment, but the more that time passed, you could see that you were both in the wrong. Yes, Theo shouldn't have acted like an emotionally constipated twat, but you also could've approached the situation better. Instead, the two of you crashed and burned, imploding whatever precarious thing you had built up over the past few months. You were afraid that your newfound friendships with the others would become collateral damage.

The possibility of losing all of them filled you with unbearable sadness. You cried in bed until you were sure that you couldn’t possibly have anything left in you and then you cried some more. Luna was obviously very concerned on your behalf. She had never seen you cry, so you could only imagine how incredibly jarring it was for her to witness you sob for three days straight.

To her credit, Luna never judged you for any of it. She just let you feel the range of emotions you’ve been holding back for months, often rubbing your back and fixing you a soothing cup of tea. Every now and then she’d ask if you’d like to come to the Great Hall for a meal, but you declined each time. You wanted to put off the inevitable for as long as possible.

When Monday crept around and hiding in your dorm was no longer an option, you carefully timed your arrival and departure to class so that you wouldn’t run into any of them. Especially not Theo.

The plan was working well and you successfully avoided everyone until Wednesday afternoon. You had just gotten out of History of Magic when Mattheo and Enzo cornered you. They were both out of breath and sweaty, presumably from quidditch practice.

“Y/N!” Enzo called from across the hall. You froze and rounded the corner, hoping to lose them in the crowd.

“I know you see us, Y/N!” Mattheo called after you.

Unfortunately, they were much faster and caught up to you easily. You clutched your books in your arms like a safety blanket. “I have to go to class.”

“No, you don’t,” Enzo said. “History of Magic is your last class of the day. We used to study after, remember? Before you decided to ditch us.”

“I’m not ditching anyone,” you countered defensively.

“Is that why we haven’t seen you for four days?” Mattheo pondered. “You don’t eat meals with us. You don’t attend game nights. You don’t let us walk you to class. Sounds like a classic ditching to me, Y/N.”

“Look, it’s just…complicated right now, okay.” You sighed, adjusting the strap of your satchel. “With everything that happened with Theo, I thought it would be best to keep my distance.”

“Is that why he’s been moodier than usual?” Enzo asked. “You two had a fight?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

Mattheo shook his head. “He nearly took my head off at practice, but when I tried to ask what the bloody hell was up his arse, the git just stormed off. I should’ve known it was because of you.”

You flinched. Enzo elbowed Mattheo in the ribs, which caused the latter to grumble dramatically. “What Mattheo meant to say is that ever since you stopped coming around, Theo’s been in a proper foul mood.” Enzo placed a hand on your shoulder. “What exactly happened between the two of you?”

The tears spilled out before you could stop them. You had done your best to keep it together during classes and club meetings and even prefect duties, but that one simple question seemed to push you over the edge. What happened between you and Theo? Your friendship, rivalry, flirtation, whatever had been forming these past few months had blown up in your face and you had been the one to light the match.

Before you knew what was happening, Enzo crushed you into a hug. “It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to tell us.”

“It’s bad, Enz. I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.”

To your surprise, Mattheo rubbed your back despite the mild discomfort on his face from seeing you cry. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you and Theo can fix it. You two are crazy about each other.”

“You don’t understand, Mattheo. We said some really awful things to each other. I think—I think I really hurt him. I figured he would have told you all by now and that it would mean the end of my friendship with everyone.”

“No way,” Mattheo countered. “You’re only just admitting that we’re friends. I’m not letting all that hard work go to waste.”

You chuckled, wiping a tear away with the back of your hand. Enzo grinned, pinching your cheek. “There’s that smile. Mattheo’s right. We wouldn’t drop you just because you and Theo are fighting.”

“The fight was my fault,” you sniffled. “I took it too far and I said some things that I really, really regret. I would understand if you took his side.”

“We’re not taking sides,” Enzo assured you. “You’re both our friends. We care about you equally.”

“But you’ve known Theo your whole lives.”

“Exactly,” Mattheo said with a nod. “We know how frustrating he can be sometimes. Even with us, Theo’s not exactly the most open person in the world. But something changed when you started becoming closer. You changed him, Y/N.”

“We all felt it,” Enzo added. “He started opening up more. Even talked about his mum and he never talks about his mum. I suspect you had something to do with that.” You felt the tears well up again. “My point is, it would be silly to let one little fight ruin a friendship. We’re definitely not letting it ruin ours.

Mattheo draped a shoulder over you. “You’re one of us now, Y/N. There’s no getting rid of us.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as you pulled the two boys into a group hug. Enzo chuckled as you practically crushed him and Mattheo ruffled your hair, messing up the neat braid you had arranged it in.

“If either one of you tell anyone about this, I’ll slip a whiz-bang underneath your pillows.”

"There's the Y/N we know and love," Mattheo said with a grin. "Now come on, you're coming to dinner with us."

"We're not taking no for an answer either," Enzo stated when he saw the hesitation on your face.

You chuckled. "It's Wednesday," you recalled, training your suspicion towards Mattheo. "You just want me to come to dinner so I can stop Malfoy from taking the last red velvet cupcake, don't you?"

Mattheo huffed in indignation. "Can't I be a good friend and secure my sweets at the same time?"

"You're officially demoted to acquaintance, Riddle."

He gasped dramatically. "You take that back, Y/N!"

The knot in your stomach eased as the three of you made your way over to the Great Hall. The reconciliation didn't fully rid you of the guilt and anxiety, but at least it was a start.

"Well, well, well," Draco drawled as he raised a pale brow at you. "Look who decided to join us."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him. He's just upset you haven't been around to help touch up his roots."

"I'll have you know I'm a natural blonde, Zabini!"

"Merlin, all that bleach has truly seeped into your head," you quipped back.

The boys smiled as you took your seat. You appreciated how easy it was to slip back into things. They seemed to know that silly banter and arguments over cupcakes were exactly what you needed. You knew that they had to be at least a little bit curious about your situation with Theo, but they didn't pry. You would tell them when you were ready.

For now, it was just nice to sit and eat dinner with your friends.

After reconciling with Draco and Blaise in the Great Hall over dinner, you were at least comforted by the fact that none of the Slytherins hated you. With the exception of Theo and probably Pansy as well. Out of the entire group, she was probably the one that you were scared to face the most. You had made an entire deal out of threatening her not to hurt Luna and then turned around and did the same exact thing to one of her closest friends instead.

She had to be beyond angry. You put off speaking with her until the last possible second. As you walked back to your dorm that Friday night, you were nearly shaking with anticipation. You knew that Pansy would be studying with Luna before heading off on their weekly date night.

You winced as you opened the door. As expected, Luna and Pansy were sprawled out on the rug, surrounded by parchment and ink.

“Hi, Y/N,” greeted Luna.

“Hi, Loons,” you said, fidgeting by the door. You had never felt more uncomfortable than when Pansy turned over to look at you. “Hi…Pansy.”

“Y/N,” she said simply. Her glossy bob curved perfectly underneath her cheekbone as she turned towards you. “We’re finishing up here so you’ll have the room to yourself.”

You swallowed thickly. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. If you don’t mind.”

Luna closed her book. “Would you like a moment alone, Y/N?”

“No,” you said a bit quickly. “Stay, Loons. I could use the emotional support.”

Your friend smiled and shot a pleading look at her girlfriend. Pansy conceded with a nod. “Are you going to finally tell me what the hell’s going on between you and Theo?”

You sighed, sitting cross legged on the rug between them. “We had a fight.”

“I gathered as much. Theo said something stupid, didn’t he? He always does when he gets scared of his own emotions.”

“We both said really stupid things to each other. I…think I took it too far though. I hit him where it hurts. Used his own words against him. I really hurt him, Pansy.” You averted your gaze, picking at the rug beneath you. “That’s why I’ve been skipping meals and avoiding everyone. Especially you. I know how much you care about the boys, and I really fucked it up with Theo. I understand if you’re mad at me, but I just want you to know that I really regret it.”

The Slytherin girl appraised you for a moment. You had never been one to shy away from scrutiny, but you felt incredibly small as Pansy looked you over. You deserved whatever condemnation and vitriol she wanted to throw your way. You braced yourself for the worst as you met her gaze, but all you found was hurt in Pansy's expression.

“I’m not mad at you because you got into a fight with Theo,” Pansy said. “That’s his and your business to sort out. I’m mad because you just pulled away from all of us without saying anything. You assumed we’d drop you, so you did it first."

“And it was really stupid of me, but I know how loyal you are to each other and I hurt one of you. I didn’t know how to face everyone.”

“You’re one of us too, Y/N,” Pansy declared. You felt your eyes brimming with tears as Luna squeezed your hand. “Not because you’re my girlfriend’s best friend, but because you’ve become my friend too. It hurt that you pushed us all away.”

“I’m so sorry, Pans.”

She sighed and awkwardly patted your back. Clearly displays of emotion were a completely foreign concept to the two of you. Luckily, Luna more than made up for the uncertainty. She nudged Pansy gently.

“It’s alright, Y/N. I get it, truly. If there’s anything Slytherins understand, it’s the sin of pride. We’re all quite good at hiding behind our cozy little walls of self preservation, as Lu likes to say. That’s exactly what Theo’s doing now.”

“How is he?” you asked hoarsely.

Not being able to see or speak to Theo this week had been hell. It felt like a part of you was missing. Like you were trying to function without a vital organ. As terrified as you were to admit it, Theo had become as essential as breathing.

Somewhere between your late night talks at the Black Lake, your childish arguments about pumpkin flavored creamers in the Great Hall, and sneaking him into Ravenclaw Tower to watch the stars in the common room, Theo's presence had become so ingrained in your life that its sudden absence felt like losing a limb. You didn't just miss him. You felt entirely lost without him.

“I won’t sugarcoat it. Theo’s not well. He’s moody and cranky and snaps at the smallest things.” You winced. “It’s not entirely your fault. I pushed him to tell you. Hell, we all did. I think we might’ve overwhelmed him.”

“Tell me what?”

Pansy smiled sadly. “I think you know.”

“I don’t.”

She sighed. “You two are so alike. Ignoring things that are right in front of you. Stubborn as hell, too. It’s bloody frustrating.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Luna added softly.

Pansy chuckled. “Point taken, Lu.” The two of them smiled softly at each other, which made you grin a little. They were so obviously smitten and you were happy for both of your friends.

It made your heart ache all over again. You never knew how much you wanted that. That closeness, that intimacy. And all it took was a stupid, idiotic fight to realize that you already had it all along.

“When we came back from Hogsmeade, I took Theo aside and asked him about the two of you. Anyone with an ounce of common sense could tell that he's head over heels for you, but he was being an absolute wanker and stalling so I thought I’d give him a push.” Pansy crossed her legs, looking troubled. “I told him that he couldn’t keep ignoring his feelings, which is classic Theodore behavior. After some convincing, he said that he would tell you the following night.”

“The night of the slug club dinner.”

Pansy nodded. “Theo left the common room with a bouquet of wisterias. The boys gave him so much shit for it, but he walked out with a smile.”

A bouquet of wisterias. Like the one you’d seen in the bin outside of Ravenclaw Tower. You had plucked a flower from it and pressed it into one of your journals.

“I didn’t see him that night.”

“I think he might’ve gotten scared and abandoned the plan altogether,” Pansy confirmed. “I figured this week was just Theo’s way of coping. He has a bad habit of running away from things when they get too real.”

“We have that in common.”

“Trust me, we noticed.”

Luna nudged Pansy with her elbow. You covered your face with your hands and sighed in frustration. “What do I do now, Pans? How do I fix this?”

“I promised not to meddle,” Pansy started. You nodded, knowing that there were boundaries that you couldn’t ask her to cross. “But if I happen to accidentally leave the passcode to the Slytherin dorms as well as the proper spells to get past Theo’s door laying around, then I can’t be blamed if someone comes across it. After all, it’s not like I’d purposely do anything to reconcile two blubbering idiots who are so obviously miserable without each other."

She scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment and slid the page over to you. Her gaze softened. “Look, Y/N. I’ve been friends with Theo for a long, long time. He has a hard time letting people in and you did it so easily that I think it terrified him. As hard as it may be, you’re going to have to tell him how you feel. You can’t dance around it anymore. He deserves more than that. You deserve more than that.”

You nodded, taking her words to heart. “Thank you, Pansy. To truly show my appreciation, I won’t make you hug me.”

Her mouth quirked. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Luna beamed. She pulled you in for a hug and squeezed extra tight. “Good luck, Y/N. Remember what I said. Lead with your heart, not with your head.”

Lead with your heart, not with your head.

Your best friend’s words echoed over and over in your head as you paced across Theo’s dorm. Thanks to Pansy’s thorough instructions, you managed to sneak through the dungeons and into his room without any problems. Sneaking in had been a piece of cake, but forcing yourself to stay was another story.

Logically, you knew that only fifteen minutes had passed since your crime of breaking and entering, but it felt like an eternity. Your palms were sweaty, your head was spinning, and your stomach was twisted into knots. You were bloody nervous.

What if Theo didn’t want to see you? What if he turned you away? Oh gods, what if he came in here with another girl—

You shook your head so violently that you were surprised that you hadn’t given yourself whiplash. For Godric’s fucking sake. You truly needed to get it together.

The door swung open and Theo threw his quidditch bag on the floor whilst kicking off his shoes. He nearly tossed his Nimbus right at your head, but you dodged it with a yelp at the last possible second.

Theo whirled around, his eyes widening in surprise. “Merlin's fucking beard, you scared the bloody hell out of me!” He propped his broom up against the wall and crossed his arms. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

In the dim dungeon lighting, you could see the heavy bags underneath those watercolor eyes. Theo looked like he hadn’t slept in days and a part of you felt guilty for contributing to his distress. Despite practicing outside for hours, he looked paler than usual like the color had seeped out of his skin. You didn't imagine that you looked any better.

Seeing Theo again was harder than you thought it would be. It was like receiving the kiss of life and having the breath knocked out of your lungs all at once. Every fiber in your being, every nerve ending, every cell and neuron came alive at the sight of him. Theo was the sun and you were just a wandering star resisting his gravitational pull.

You fidgeted with your fingers. “Pansy let me in.”

“Clearly my protection charms are ineffective against meddling witches,” Theo declared loudly, probably half expecting Pansy to be eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Don’t be mad at Pansy. She was just trying to help me because she knew how badly I needed to talk to you.”

He sighed and closed the door behind him. Theo stayed put by the doorway as though he was afraid to take another step closer. You couldn’t blame him. “I heard you loud and clear during our last conversation.”

“That’s the thing. I’ve gone over that conversation over and over again in my head and I can’t even figure out what we were really even fighting about. I said some truly awful things and I’m—“ you paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for that, Theo.”

You wrung your hands together and averted his gaze. “If you couldn’t tell by now, I’m sort of shit at this whole vulnerability thing.”

“No fucking shit.”

A part of you knew you deserved that, but it didn’t hurt any less. You took a shaky breath, intent on focusing solely on the rug beneath your feet to keep yourself from crying.

Theo came closer, his lanky frame coming into view. The smell of sweat and sea salt and cigarette smoke was so overwhelming that it made you feel a bit homesick. “Sorry, force of habit." He sat down next to you, nudging you with his shoulder. You swallowed thickly, wondering how in the hell that tiny bit of contact instantly soothed your nerves. "To be fair, I wasn’t entirely innocent in that exchange either. I said some horrible things too and it's eaten away at me all week. I'm sorry, Y/N. I was a complete arsehole to you."

“Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty big arseholes.”

His throaty chuckle sounded like music to your ears. “Is that it? You broke into my dorm just to call me an arsehole?”

You shook your head and forced yourself to look up at him. The fact that he was this close yet you weren't able to touch him made you physically ill. “No. During our fight, you said that I had no idea how you felt and you’re right. I don’t. I think I was just so hurt when you said that you weren’t my friend that I flew off the handle and didn’t even give any consideration to how you felt.”

Theo clenched his jaw. “I don’t blame you. I was being an absolute prick when I said that.” His voice grew softer as he came closer. “What I really meant was that I didn’t want to be just friends. I was going to tell you.”

The pieces started coming together. He had been outside Ravenclaw Tower when Harry had dropped you off. “The night of the slug club dinner. Pansy said you were coming to talk to me and that you left the common room with flowers in your hand.”

He frowned. “I’m going to need to have a serious talk with Pansy about the importance of confidentiality. But yes, I had a whole speech prepared for you. I was going to pour my little heart out to you that night.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Theo clenched his fists and avoided your gaze. “I saw you kissing Potter.”

“You were jealous.”

It was more of a statement than a question. The entire thing clicked into place for you then. The discarded bouquet. The strange behavior afterwards. Theo had seen you kiss Harry on the cheek and mistook it for something else entirely.

“I wanted to rip him to shreds.” Theo shifted beside you and sighed deeply. "I was so angry. At him, at you, but most of all, at myself. I saw you two together and I realized that Harry is the type of man you deserve. A good man. One who isn't haunted by dark magic and bad blood."

"What are you talking about, Theo?"

"I've been so selfish these past few months. I let myself think that I could...that I could be someone who deserves to be by your side. Someone who makes you smile and snort and roll your eyes at all my stupid jokes. Instead, all I've brought you is grief. You almost turned down the Slughorn dinner because of me. You came close to fighting Romilda because you were defending me and my friends. People whisper and stare when we walk down the halls together. I never cared when it was directed towards me, but I can't do that to you. I won't drag you down."

Tears filled your eyes. "I don't regret any of the things that have happened these past few months. People will always talk, Theo. That's their own problem. But the fact that you think you're dragging me down breaks my heart." Theo took a shaky breath when you took his face in your hands. "Do you not see how good you are? You're caring and kind and resilient. You're annoyingly charming and you infuriate me like no other, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives. You're the best person I know, Theodore Nott, and I'll not have you argue otherwise."

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. "I wouldn't dream of it, amorina. You always win every argument we have anyways."

You chuckled, releasing a breath that you hadn't realized you've been holding since the moment Theo walked away from you in that potions classroom. He gently grasped your wrist, rubbing soothing circles against your skin. "What about Potter?"

"What about him?"

"That kiss," Theo whispered. "You don't know how much it killed me to see someone else kiss you."

"You know he's with Ginny right?" you said, watching as relief visibly washed over him. "Even if he wasn't, Harry is not my type."

"Oh yeah? What's your type then, diavolina?"

The nickname that you used to hate so much suddenly felt like a comforting hug. It was your thing. An inside joke that was only between the two of you.

"Snarky little Slytherins who vex me to death by thinking that I have a crush on Potter when I'm so obviously only into him," Theo chuckled softly. “If you had stayed, you would have seen that it was just an innocent kiss on the cheek. I was thanking Harry for walking me back to my dorm and for saving me from myself during the dinner.”

The expression of concern on his face softened everything in you. “It didn’t go well with Slughorn?”

“No, it went brilliantly. I listened to him commend our stellar performance in his class and I couldn’t fucking stomach any of it. Not when the one person that deserved it wasn’t even there,” your voice cracked as you recalled the anger you felt that night. “All because of something that isn’t your fault. I lost it. I gave Slughorn a piece of my mind and stormed out. I would’ve done a lot worse if Harry hadn’t stopped me, but it made me sick…all of it made me sick. And I wished more than anything that you were beside me making inappropriate jokes that would’ve had me rolling my eyes in annoyance.”

Theo tilted your chin up, giving you a full view of the spreading grin on his face. “You missed me.”

You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat. “I did,” you confirmed. “I do.”

To your surprise, Theo wrapped you in his arms. As he hugged you, every ounce of dread and anxiety dissolved while he held you so tightly that you could hardly breathe.

“I’ve missed you too,” he whispered into your hair. “I have missed you every moment we were apart.”

Whatever armor you may have had around your heart came crashing down at that moment. Theo had taken a sledgehammer to your defenses and obliterated them entirely.

“I’m sorry, Theo,” you cried, clutching at his chest. “I’m sorry for all the horrible things I said. I didn’t mean it—I was just scared.”

Theo rubbed your back and whispered in a soothing voice. “I know, love. I was scared too. I still am,” he admitted shakily. You blinked as he swiped your tears away with his thumb. “When we started this, I thought it would be easy. Sleeping with someone who hated me meant that there was no chance of me getting hurt. It was supposed to be simple, but you made it anything but."

The tenderness in his gaze pierced through your very soul. "You clawed your way into my heart with your surly attitude and violent threats, but you also showed me this vulnerable side of you that feeds baby thestrals and defends my friends and drinks disgusting pumpkin flavored beverages. Then you started becoming more than just someone I wanted to sleep with. You became my friend.”

You sobbed, burying your face in his chest. “I’ll always be your friend, Theo. Always.”

“I know, Y/N. Aside from Pansy and the guys, you’re probably my best friend. Though if Mattheo asks, I'll deny it. You know how possessive he gets."

You chuckled through your tears. "You're my best friend, too. You're the only person I want to talk about my day with, no matter how eventful or boring. I care about your quidditch rants and your gelato obsession and your weird habit of cutting the crust off of every sandwich you eat."

"Hey, it's perfectly normal to have an aversion to crust, okay." You snorted, which made him grin from ear to ear. "Gods, I have missed that laugh. I have missed everything about you, my sullen, irritable, and borderline violent little Ravenclaw." You smiled as he caressed your cheek. "No one has ever stood up for me like you have. I’ve just gotten so used to being blamed for my father’s sins that I stopped fighting it. It’s easier to let them think that I’m the bad guy.”

You looked up and held his gaze, conveying everything that you wanted to say that you couldn't put into words. “But you’re not, Theo. You’ve never been the bad guy.”

He smiled softly. “I know and you know. That’s enough for me.”

“When did you get to be so mature, Theodore Nott?”

“Since the girl that I’m hopelessly and pathetically in love with told me to grow the fuck up.” Theo’s eyes shone with emotion as he looked at you. “I tried not to fall for you. Gods, I tried so fucking hard, but I failed.” He dropped his forehead down to yours. “I have failed utterly and miserably, because I am in love with you and I’m tired of hiding it. You have my heart, Y/N. Break it. Crush it. Decimate it. Do what you must, but please know that it's yours. It will always be yours."

A pained laugh escaped from your lips. “I love you too, Theo. I have no defense left. No armor of logic or reason that you haven’t completely destroyed. Hai conquistato il mio cuore.”

You have conquered my heart.

Theo placed your hand on his chest. “Do you feel that? I think my heart just stopped beating. The things you do to me, Y/N.”

You smiled and pulled him in by the front of his jersey. “I think I know a way to make it start beating again.”

“Yeah?” Theo asked with a smirk.

“Yeah.”

He smiled as you impatiently tugged him down, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. Theo sighed against your mouth before picking you up bridal style, which made you yelp in surprise. You giggled as he gently placed you on the bed, his lips never once leaving yours.

“Gods, I love you,” he murmured. “Not just your body, but your smile. Your laugh. Your cute little snort. The way your nose scrunches up when I annoy you. I love it. I love all of it. I missed you so fucking much. Staying away from you was hell.”

“I missed you, too. All your snarky little comebacks and borderline vulgar one-liners and your eyes. Gods, you have no right having such pretty eyes.”

Theo smirked. “Oh my god, Y/N. You totally have a crush on me.” He dug his fingers into your sides as you laughed and wriggled underneath him. Theo continued his assault, bypassing the top layer of your robe for better access. His gaze softened as he hovered over you. “Are you wearing my jumper?”

You tugged at the hem and smiled sheepishly. “I may or may not have slept in it all week. You’re not getting it back, so don’t even ask.”

“It’s alright. At least now you’re finally representing the best uni.”

His words gave you pause. “Wait,” you said, looking down at the faded jumper. “Theodore, are you telling me that all this time I’ve been wearing a Cambridge jumper? The Cambridge jumper that you begged your mum to buy for you during your first visit?”

“The very same one.”

“But you love this thing. You said you wore it until it was down to its last thread.”

“Yeah, but I love you more,” he beamed as he kissed your cheek. “I knew I was a goner the night I gave it to you. I spent the entire summer thinking about you. I thought I was going insane. It was worse than nicotine withdrawals. Then I had you again and I thought that would take care of the craving, but I got greedy. I just wanted more and more of you.”

“Oh my god, Theo. You totally have a crush on me.”

“I fancy the pants out of you, Y/N.”

“Good, cause you’re about to get me out of them in a minute.”

“You,” Theo said, punctuating the word with a kiss. “Are,” Another kiss. “Perfect.” You giggled as he smacked his lips against yours. “Sono pazzo di te, amore mio.”

You smiled. “I’m crazy about you too, Teddy.”

“Teddy?”

“D’ya like it?”

Theo kissed you again, this time savoring every second as he pressed his body against yours. “I love it and I love you.”

“I love you too, Teddy.”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup @aliensknowmyillusions @cinderellawithashoe @starsval @kalulakunundrum @lucyysthings @siriuslysmoking @purplegirls-posts @unstablereader @lqclercs @whatsupb18 @rikirritated @psychedeliccc @jetblackpayne @clairesjointshurt @ama1a2 @omwtkydttfym @cinderellawithashoe @xeqr @txzii @goldenmagnolias @ilikefictionalmen @xxpeachyxo @dirt-cup-draco @willowecho25518 @shulipp @pompeygirl89 @lame-ferrum @dustbunniess @justdizzie @sopsopsopy @therealallisonspear @sweetwonieee @spacecadet16 @moonsreid @grrbrielew @@lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @imaginationlover101 @aliciacat20 @s0kovianwitch @lucy-is-never-logical @unstablereader

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#healing the world with comedyyyyyy #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott smut #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

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hhonghu · 1 year

Note

I'm desperate for more yandere sub trans scara... 😈

[Thirst]!

filthy anon :( do it again >:) hehehe

scara is the most jealous boy you know. can you really blame him when he felt like throwing hands when you found yourself a new friend? a ridiculously touchy and affectionate female friend no less? you told him you met her on your travels and thought of bringing her along for a visit. he felt as if he was about to zap her to death the moment she wrapped her arms around you and thanked you for bringing her along. you said it was no big deal before your eyes landed on scara, who looked like he was fuming, and your eyes soften. "darling, i'm back!"

he would've ran and hugged you, spewing small complaints here and there but would've said he missed you nonetheless. only this time he felt like running instead at the girl who dared to touch you, ripping her hair out. the girl's arms loosened around you and looked at scara, eyes scanning him from head to toe, she almost gave an unimpressed look. "darling?" she asked and you nodded enthusiastically, "that's my lover, kabu— cough! scaramouche" you caught yourself, scara's name almost slipping out your mouth. "huh.. i see. well, nice to meet you, i'm jade." she lifts her hand albeit looking disinterested. fucking bitch with an attitude.

he lifts his hand and firmly shakes her hand, his grip almost too tight. he tries not to snarl as he greets her, "it's.. nice to meet you too, jade." you stare between the two, eyes looking back and forth as you can sense some hostility forming. "oh uhm.. jade! why don't you settle down for tonight? i'll have someone help you settle in." the two let go of their firm grip and look at you, jade was the first to speak up. "will you be joining me for dinner tonight then?" she hoped, a smile gracing her face. scara's hands wrapped around your arm and was already glaring at her, "no, i don't think they will."

she raised her brow, her mouth opening to say something as if to protest but he interrupted her. "they have other important matters look after other than you. so, if you will, run along." you gape as scara drags you away, jade looking livid as your figures disappeared from view. "darling? what's wrong? why were you acting—", "shut up." you shut your mouth in shock, your feet following him until both of you reached his quarters and he pushes the door open and yanked you inside, slamming the door behind him. he then pushes you on the bed, straddling your lap and his hands on your shoulders. his face looked furious, deadly and you gulped. "just.. what the fuck.. do you think you're doing? bringing some random whore here?" your eyes widen, "what? darling, no, you got it all wrong! she's a friend i made along the way and she asked me if she could come along—", "and you said yes?" he digs his nails to skin and you hiss, "[name]... it seems you seem to forget who belongs to you.. you're becoming careless about me." he drags his hands from your chest to the hem of your pants, fiddling with the zipper. "let's help you recall where you're dick is supposed to be. who's supposed to be for."

"hahhhh— yesyesyes! that's it, right there!" scara moans into your ear, his arms around you and warm breath making you shiver as he bounces his ass up and down, his pussy making lewd noises around your cock. you've lost count on how many times you've made him cum and and how much you spilled inside him, you must've been going at it for hours. your dick felt spent, his pussy was milking you for all your worth and you just won't stop cumming. "f-fuck, scara, i'm going to fucking cum, i'm—" he fastens his pace, his hips slamming down hard and his pussy holding your cock in a grip. "fucking cum inside me, [name]. fill my pussy up, come on hgnnh— fill my womb up with your cum. do it, fucking ah, ah, ah— cum!" you groan, your orgasm hitting like a wave, pumping globs of cum stuffing his already stuffed pussy. you still, catching your breath and scara moves his body up, shoving your cum and cock deeper inside him, some spilling out and dripping from his thighs and the sides of your cock.

"haaaa— there we go," he slowly drags his hand from his thigh, taking some of your cum and bring it to his clit, slowly circling the nub around. "this dick is mine, [name]. nghh— all fucking mine. this dick is mine to stuff my pussy fhuuuck— with and cum inside me until it can't fit more inside. you hear me, [name]? this dick is mine." he begins to rub his clit more vigorously, his hips writhing around. "let's cum some more.. we're not stopping, so this dick will stay inside my pussy until your dry♡."

heheehhhhehe jealous scara using your dick bc he's jelly over some girl lmao (it's justified, she gonna try and steal you fr lol) thank you anon for the thirst >:)

#ems.writes #ems.nsfw #anon.chats #scaramouche smut #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche

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strawberryya · 7 months

Text

notice me!

pairing: jihoon x reader

synopsis: Your boyfriend has a hectic life, but he usually has at least a little time to spare for his girlfriend. Now it has been two months since he last spent some alone time with you and you're losing your mind just a little over it... luckily, angry make-up sex can solve any problem!

word count: 2.1k

genre/cw: smut, angry sex, also make-up sex, established relationship, feeling neglected in relationship and bad ways of handling said feeling, unprotected sex, manhandling, light choking, fem reader, musician/producer! woozi.

rating: 18+

a/n: I had a moment a couple weeks ago where I wrote this whole thing in one hour in the middle of the night, and then I forgot about it and now I'm in shock just a little bit... anyhow, yay angry sex with wooziiii

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

[navigation post!]

You watched your boyfriend of two years looking at his phone, scrolling mindlessly across whatever app he found more interesting than his girlfriend sitting on the other end of the couch. You were barely wearing anything, a large t-shirt barely covering the sexy lingerie you had put on for tonight.

“Jihoon, it’s been two months.”

You wanted him to notice you. He had barely been home at your shared apartment for weeks. You knew his work was demanding, and that he gave it his all no matter what. But you have been feeling neglected lately. He had been coming home late, crashing on the couch instead of sleeping in your bed. Only giving you a chaste kiss before running off to work the next morning with a groggy “Sorry I missed dinner last night,” as a greeting.

He hadn’t touched you in two months. You had counted the days, and after three weeks you were wondering if he wasn’t stressing too much about the latest album. After six weeks you had been feeling too horny for your own good, and your toys weren’t fulfilling your needs anymore. You wanted to feel him again. It didn’t matter how many times you came. It didn’t hit the spot. After two entire months of him being abstinent, you had begun getting snarky at the smallest things he did wrong.

Jihoon looked up from his phone at your statement. He carelessly scratched his chin, making your pussy clench at the memory of those perfect hands being all over your body once upon a time. “Two months? Of what?”

“Of you acting like a damn nun,” you said, dead serious.

“A nun?!” He gasped out.

“Yes! A nun!” You shouted back at him.

He looked you over, sitting at the other end of the couch, dolled up more than usual and staring at him as if he had offended yuo great grandmother by existing. Then it seemed to click in his mind. “Oh,” was all he said.

Two months? Had it been that long? He knew very well that he had been resisting his urges, but he had managed for two entire months? He had been so busy with the new album, he had been staying late at the studio every day and waking up rushing back to the studio to put the new ideas he got during the night into reality. Two months without sex, and a pissed off girlfriend because of it.

“I’m sorry?”

You looked at him like he was an equation, mouth open just a bit as you stared at him in shock. “You’re sorry? What the fuck does that mean?” He was so clueless, you thought as you watched the dumb face he was making. (You still wanted that stupid handsome face of his to eat you out until you cried, but that was besides the point.)

Jihoon knew he had fucked up, you were pissed off and picking a fight, and he hadn’t made it better by not even knowing that he hadn’t slept with you in two whole months.

“Do you even care? Because you don’t seem to care one bit about it since you didn’t even know! Do you not like me anymore? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Are you in love with someone else? Why the fuck would you go and cheat on me?!”

He stared at you in complete surprise. Cheating? “Hold up- hold up! What are you talking about?!” He said, flabbergasted at the way you seemed to have drawn the most far-fetched conclusions to this problem you could’ve possibly thought of. “I’ve been busy with the comeback! Please, baby, why are you acting crazy?”

He shouldn’t have said that, he knew it the second the word left his perfectly plump lips.

“Crazy? Did you just call me crazy? You haven’t seen crazy, you fucking asshole!” You shouted as you stormed out of the room. You were packing your bags, if he didn’t want to be with you anymore you wouldn’t be the one to stop him from moving on and sleeping with whoever else he wanted. Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be you after he had just called you crazy for noticing that he wasn’t interested in you anymore.

“What are you doing?? Why are you messing up the apartment? Are you leaving?” he shouted, seemingly surprised that you didn’t feel like staying in an apartment that he was hellbent on making a girlfriend-free zone.

“Yeah, I’m fucking leaving,” you grunt, shoving some shirts into your bag. You wouldn’t be able to grab it all but at least you could make it with the stuff you were throwing into it for a while. Y9ou could always borrow your friends’ stuff until you could get back all your clothes. “You’re pissing me off and I don’t wanna hate you.”

Jihoon was by the bedroom door now, hands pushing his hair out of his face as he watched you angrily packing your bags. How had he fucked up so badly that his girlfriend wanted to leave him like this?

“Hate me? Baby, I really don’t know what I did to mess up this bad…”

Of course, he didn’t understand, because apparently, your boyfriend was a freaking master at staying “pure”. He hadn’t even spent a single thought on you and what he could do with you. He only cared about his music. And you wouldn’t be the one to stand in his way if thats how he truly felt.

“You don’t know?! Look at me Jihoon!” You threw the t-shirt off your body in an angry fit, making your boyfriend’s eyes widen. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, to care even a bit about me- about us- for months!! And tonight, I just can’t do this anymore. I’m losing my mind because you won’t fuck me, how stupid is that?” You nearly sobbed as you made it clear that you were frustrated in more than one way. You were so mad at him, and still, you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked so hot even now, his long black hair falling in pretty curls around his face and his lips shiny and pink. He looked so kissable it was like he was teasing you just by existing.

“You got me all addicted to your cock and then you fucking left me to go through some kind of twisted withdrawal.”

He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat, you didn’t even care to look at him anymore, you were angrily throwing your shit into the bag on the bed yet again, bent over and flaunting the tiny piece of fabric that tried it’s best to cover your ass. “You don’t even care,” you rumbled as you stuffed more things into the bag. He took in the way the lace set hugged your curves deliciously, he had been so busy with everything he hadn’t even noticed his own cravings. He had ignored it all for so long.

“Shut up.”

His voice was deep, and commanding. Your breath caught in your throat, surprise and need mixing in an arousing blend that went straight to your head. “Excuse me?” Your movements paused completely. When you heard his footsteps approaching you hastily you looked at him, his gaze was darkened, and your core clenched around nothing as he pulled the bag from your grasp. Throwing it on the ground before he pushed your barely clothed body into the bed.

“You think I don’t fucking care anymore just because you haven’t gotten dick in a couple weeks? Are you that desperate to be stretched like a little whore?” He growled in your ear, his bulge evident in the way he pressed against your ass. “I care, and I see you. So shut up.”

You gasped at his harsh movements, neediness soaking your panties in record time. God, you were pathetic.

“I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept, and I sure as hell haven’t let myself even think about this sweet pussy of yours. I’ve been denying myself it all. But you’re right…” his hand pressed against your throat where you laid face down on the bed, “I’ve been neglecting you. You wanna know why? It’s because I knew that if I so much as looked at you, or held you in my arms while you slept so innocently, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but fuck your tight little pussy all day and night.” His growling voice set off all kinds of sparks in your core. You needed him, now.

You pushed your ass up against him, eating a groan from your boyfriend. “Such a little slut,” he mumbled, letting go of your throat and pulling himself back from you completely. You were dizzy from the hold around your throat, his perfect hands remembering just the way you liked to feel them around you. You were about to whine when his touch left your body when you heard the familiar shuffling of his clothes falling off his body. You wanted to see it, take his form in properly after all these weeks. But he was faster, pushing you back down against the bed before you got up.

His erection pressed against your heat, making you moan as he prodded against the soaked fabric covering your entrance.

“Jihoon, please,” you mewled, wiggling underneath his firm body.

“Wanna shut up and let me fuck you then since you’re so fucking needy?”

“Please, yes! Anything! Please fuck me!” You almost cried as you pleaded with him.

“Sobbing over cock, you really are such a dirty girl for me.” He groaned as he let his pretty hands smooth over one of your asscheeks, smacking down hard and leaving a burning sting after him. Even that felt good. You needed him more than you had ever needed anything in your life.

You felt him pull the sticky fabric from your core, pushing it aside in favor of pushing the head of his hard cock against your messy pussy. “I’m about to drown in you later tonight, just you wait.” He whispered before pushing past your entrance, slipping inside, your walls lubing his cock up as he entered. He ignored the way you were so tight it almost hurt to push all the way inside, your moaned pleas for him to go deeper, and the way you were gripping the sheets while he pushed all of himself inside of your dripping heat enough of a reason to push through. It had been so long since he had felt your walls gripping around him that he could’ve spilled his seed into you right then and there.

He pulled himself together soon enough, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Your ass which you had pushed up to meet his hips at first had been completely overpowered by the sheer force he was fucking you into the mattress with. You were coming for the first time within minutes. Screaming and sobbing as you finally came around him. He continued, repeating to you what a good toy you were, and how good of a girl you had been for holding out for him this long.

When you were moaning again, closing in on a second orgasm he told you to come again. Lifting your ass up to balance you on your knees and chest, one of his arms wrapping around your hip to reach your clit, pressing down on it while he let his cock slip in and out effortlessly. Your arousal dripped down your thighs. You came undone and sobbed as he continued to overstimulate your abused cunt.

He continued fucking you until he couldn’t take it anymore, his own orgasm crashing into him with such force it knocked the breath from his lungs.

“That was one hell of an apology,” you said, breathless and still leaking cum, exhausted after having all your pent-up frustrations released all at once like this.

Jihoon chuckled, a sound you had missed these past weeks as well. He really had been unusually absent in your life. It wasn’t just about the sex, you had missed him a lot. “I’m sorry for not being around as much,” he said, dragging a gentle hand over your back. You hadn’t had the energy to move a once from the position he had dropped your hips from once he had pulled out.

“I just missed you, I’m sorry for lashing out.”

“Don’t worry about it, just… next time you should just ask me to fuck you instead of threatening to leave me.”

You were embarrassed now, you had acted like a complete maniac, but my god - if that’s how he fucked a maniac, you wanted to stay crazy for the rest of eternity.

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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#woozi smut #seventeen smut #kwritersworldnet #jihoon smut #woozi svt smut #seventeen #svt smut #svt #woozi #jihoon x reader #x reader #fem reader #x reader smut

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longing-for-the-past-times · 7 months

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wisdom teeth

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 1,472

synopsis: Simon comes home from a mission only to find you in bed, sick and in pain. Your wisdom teeth are coming out and he does his best to care for you

notes: as always, i suck at writing a good synopsis; inspired by this request- not proofread, hope you enjoy :) ; and yes, when two of my wisdom teeth decided to come out in the world last spring I could barely open my mouth without being in pain- I hope no one else has to go through what I did

warnings: a little too self-indulgent? fluff

masterlist

Simon knew something was wrong when he spent nearly an hour nursing his cup of Earl Grey, and you hadn't joined him yet. While it wasn't unusual for you to sleep in sometimes, it was still the morning after he'd returned from a mission and you would usually be fussing all over him. Ghost knew he was being irrational, but with each passing second his mind couldn't help but spiral into darker and darker thoughts. What if he had done something to upset you? You didn't greet him last night either - merely cuddled against his chest when he joined you in bed - was it something he said on the phone? Or rather didn't say? Didn't he call you too often? Or perhaps you might have met someone else..?

"'m sorry, S'mon. I might spend'he day'n…"

A small curse left his lips as he shook himself out of his thoughts. The tea had long gone cold by the time he eventually got up from the table and threw the remnants down the kitchen sink. His stomach was basically growling, protesting at the prolonged hunger it had been objected to, yet Ghost did not head for the fridge or the cupboards: he may have drunk his tea by himself, but, when he was home, he would never have breakfast without you by his side.

So instead, he headed for the bedroom, quietly opening the door and half-entering the room. He had to squint as the blackout curtains were still obstructing any ray of sunlight that might have entered inside otherwise, his expression morphing into a frown upon hearing the faintest of groans coming from the bed.

Traversing the room in two steps, he laid on the carpet, by your side of the bed, gently placing a hand on your forehead. His heart dropped at the foreboding feeling of you having a fever, too focused on the situation at hand to notice the soft way you began to rub your head against the cold skin of his hand.

Ghost, on the other hand, did not realise the cause of your distress. Seeing you in pain was causing him pain too and his tired mind, still set on the military mindset he had instilled during the last mission, was looking for a culprit.

"feels so good, love", you mumbled with your cheek still squished against the pillow, your eyes involuntarily making contact with his.

You've been together with Simon for more than two years and sharing an apartment for a year now, but the sight of his handsome face, unconcealed by any mask or balaclava, still left you out of breath and at a loss for words. That morning was no different, his worried expression filling your heart with even more love and joy towards him, so much that you swore you could feel it burst at the seams. You relished in the soothing sensation of his palm being pressed against your flushed skin, but at the same time, you couldn't help but smile at him in an attempt to reassure him you were fine.

In fact, you weren't. And you forgot that, at least for the last few days, any movements that involved opening your mouth, no matter how minor, were instantly accompanied by sharp waves of pain, coursing through your entire being. So, for the hundredth time that week, your smile was quickly replaced by a pathetic whimper and a hand helplessly pressed against your cheek, as if it would make the pain go away.

"Who did this to you? Just say the word and I-"

His concern was so raw and real that it made your heart melt like it was a chocolate bar left in the sun. You had missed his overprotective attitude and the scary dog privileges it brought with it and in that moment, the realisation that all of it was back hit you hard. So hard that in fact, you started laughing- your loud chuckles quickly turning into sobs of pain as your jaw was protesting against the sudden movements.

Your eyes were closed in an attempt to dull the pain that engulfed your entire face, but you could feel Simon's distress rolling off him in waves. So you blindly reached for the phone and opened the notepad application, typing in what you were unable to say out loud at once:

"Wisdom teeth are coming out."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Simon took a moment to assess the situation. A rush of relief surged through his veins as it was all clear then- the prolonged sleeping periods, the fever, why you couldn't open your mouth without being forced to close it immediately after. A selfish part of him was relieved that it was something he could physically deal with, and his protective instincts really started to kick in.

Pulling the curtains was not a solution as the brightness of the daylight would only make you feel more overwhelmed, but the room still needed some light- and the bedside lamp was not a solution as the bulb would have also been too bright. You would also need something to calm you, but not pills because they would interfere with the painkillers he also made a mental note to get and-

"I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head, love! :)"

He had to squint to process the text when you shoved the phone into his face, his lips curling up at the sight of the smiley face you typed at the end. Urging your face to morph into something that remotely resembled a smile, you extended a hand towards his face and caressed his cheek with your thumb, in what was meant to be a silent confirmation that he was on the right track and nothing that he would or wouldn't do would upset you in any way.

"I'll be back in 30 minutes at most!", he solemnly declared as he pressed his lips against your forehead, a small tendril of hope bubbling in his chest upon the feeling of the fever starting to fade away. "Why don't you try to get some rest until I come back and then we'll see what we can do!"

You could only nod in confirmation as he pulled another blanket from a drawer and draped it over the one you already used, making a show out of tugging you in.

---

When you woke up again, the pain wasn't entirely gone, but the air in the room had somehow shifted. It took you a moment to bounce back into reality, your eyes slightly widening at the faint light that illuminated the previously dark room.

Fairy lights were hanging over your head.

And the soft notes of a piano song could be heard from outside the room.

"How are you feeling, love?", Simon's deep Manchester accent resounded somewhere in your proximity, and you almost jumped out of bed when you realised he was once again sitting on the floor, half leaning against the bed. His mask was, once again, out of sight, and his blonde strands of hair were tousled, likely from the many times he kept running his hands through his hair. Your eyes involuntarily stopped on the faint scar that split the left corner of his lip in half and, for a brief moment, all the pain and distress you found yourself in were gone, your heart filling with an overwhelming amount of love and adoration towards the man standing in front of you.

"So I brought you some painkillers, but before we try them I suggest a cup of this calming tea mix I found at the store-"

The sentence was left hanging in the air as you shook your head in disbelief and cupped his face in your hands, planting a soft kiss on his lips. If Ghost was caught unawares by your sudden display of affection, he did not let it show, but instead, he laced his hands against your neck and deepened the kiss, closing his eyes at the close contact you found yourselves in. Loudly expressing his feelings was not one of his strengths, and deep down he could not believe he had managed to find someone like you, who could understand him so well.

"Welcome home, Simon!"

"I think I'm feeling better already…", you quietly mumbled once you broke the kiss, your lips gently brushing against his cheek. Closing your eyes as well, you grazed your nose against his face, finding comfort in his scent. He may have been home for a day, perhaps he took a shower too, but the distinctive smell of gunpowder, mixed with sweat and cologne, was still there. And you did not mind it at all.

That time your jaw did not hurt as bad as your mouth curved into a smile.

#cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #call of duty imagine #ghost fluff #amy writes #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley x you

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lxclerc · 2 years

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𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬𝟓𝟓 & 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

SUMMARY: you don’t realize what you have till you lose it, a lesson charles had to learn the hard way. REQUESTED: yes WARNING: angst, SMUT, 18+, threesome, oral (both m & f receiving), choking, p in v, unprotected sex, spitting, overtimulation, manhandling, praise kink, degragation, probably some dumbification somewhere in there PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader x charles leclerc WORD COUNT: 7.1k

NOTE: this took so long to finish but i’m just happy it’s done. please know that the only instruction i got from my friend who requested this was "angry charlos smut" after monza and that i probably won't be writing smut like this soon again so soon

part 1: moth to a flame

MASTERLIST

The scene before you now is a familiar one. It’s so awfully familiar that it makes your heart ache again. Staying up and waiting for a call from Charles after a night out isn’t out of ordinary for you but you thought you were both over this. Yet still, waking you up from your slumber was Charles, slurring over his words as he asked you to pick him up, far too drunk to drive and forcing you out of the comfort of your bed as you grabbed your keys.

This time though, you aren’t alone. Carlos had flown over to you after you were unable to travel with the team, desperate to spend time with you before Silverstone. That meant that the last time you saw Carlos was three weeks ago and it's a surprise how much you missed each other terribly. You never talked about it but you both know it isn’t just sex. Carlos may play your body like a violin but he always touches you so gently. He looks after you, notices your small discomfort that he’s quick to amend. He holds you against his chest softly even when you’re not naked.

In the three weeks you were unable to see him, the two of you spend most of your days exchanging texts, your nights with each other on facetime as you sleep and so given the first chance considering you won’t be able to go to him, Carlos offered to fly to you in Monaco and you hadn’t even thought twice before agreeing. Three days together after not seeing each other for three weeks feels far too short, but you’ve gotten greedy. You’d happily take whatever he offers.

That being said, the two of you could be spending doing much more productive things than picking up your best friend from the club. Carlos had told you as much but you know you’re unable to completely abandon him.

It was becoming clear to Carlos though. Despite everything, when Charles calls, you will always come running. Some part of him is willing to acknowledge he’s being unfair. You and Charles have been friends before either of you could talk. You spent nearly your entire life together. And you’ve always been good, always been kind and willing to help. Carlos should have known you wouldn’t just leave Charles to fend for himself.

However, he’s clouded with irrational jealousy at the moment, his hand gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his fist is turning white. Tension rise as you sat quietly in the passenger’s seat, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

You know his anger is justified. He’d be leaving tomorrow morning and you’d promised your night to him. Neither of you are sure when you’ll be able to see each other again. Even this meeting you knew took lots of effort on his part. He canceled so many meetings and appearances, prioritized spending time with you rather than his family and here you were, running back to the arms of a man who never truly valued you instead of spending time with him.

And it’s not like you needed to be the one to pick up Charles. You could have very well called one of his brothers but perhaps it was leftover feelings or perhaps it was the clear broken way in which he said your name. Either way, you’re unable to stomach the thought of passing him off to someone else without knowing if he's okay. The two of you had been through too much for you to do that.

“I can get him myself,” you finally spoke up as Carlos parked in front of the famous Monte Carlo club. You don’t want to bother him more than you already have and he looked annoyed enough as it is. “You can just wait for me here.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow as he met your eyes, instantly causing red to tinge your cheeks. He looks furious but not even that can stop your body from reacting to him. He still looks beautiful even though he looks murderous. Stepping out of the car, he offered you his hand, entwining your fingers together. “Let’s go.”

Carlos may only be wearing a hoodie paired with Nike shorts looking like he just rolled out of bed but everyone still turns to him anyways, whether because they recognized him or simply because he still looks absolutely breathtaking despite the minimal effort in his appearance. Personally, you’re leaning more on the latter.

It didn’t take long to find Charles, the monegasque hunched over a table as his hand gripped a glass of what you can only assume to be alcohol. His cheeks all the way to his neck and ears are red and you can’t help but run to him in worry, immediately attempting to support his body.

He squints at you and you can’t help but take notice of the bags under his eyes. No, this isn’t just some random drinking spree. Charles, more often than not, knows his limit well when it comes to alcohol. He only ever allows himself to get this drunk when he’s determined to force something down. “Y/N?”

“Charles,” you breathe out as Carlos reaches the two of you, looking significantly more annoyed as you try to hoist your best friend over your shoulder. “On va te ramener chez toi.” Let’s get you home.

Carlos removes his teammate’s weight off of you, placing an arm around his shoulder as the two of you all but drag him out of the club, aware of the many many eyes trained on the three of you.

“Je veux rester avec toi,” Charles muttered, slurring over his own words. “Tu m'as manqué.” Want to stay with you…Missed you.

You turned to your spaniard companion, hoping he isn’t able to piece your conversation together, but Carlos is staring right ahead, making a point not to look at you as he jaw clenched, entire body stiff with unreleased tension.

How many times will you run to Charles? How many times will you drop Carlos’ hand? How many times will you cancel plans? Would Carlos have to settle for this? Would he always come second best after his teammate? Second driver, second lover, second choice. Always coming second, alway too late.

After the two of you buckle Charles in the backseat, you reach for him, placing your hand against his cheek as you all but force him to face you. He looks tired, probably as tired as you do but he still looks beautiful anyways. Carlos Sainz is ethereal. There’s simply no other way to describe him. From his perfectly arched brows to his tan skin, he’s all you’ve ever dreamed about.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice low and a little bit terrified and the sight of you trying to make yourself look smaller next to him all but breaks Carlos’ heart.

You don’t seem to understand that with him, you’ll never have to make yourself small. With him, you’ll never have to try and take as little space as possible. You never have to lower your voice or speak gentler in fear of inconveniencing him. With him, you can be you; fully and unapologetically and he’ll still find you to be the most beautiful girl to exist.

You are nothing short of perfect in Carlos’ eyes. Even if you’re breaking his heart.

He grabs your hand on his cheek, entwining your fingers together as he plants a soft kiss on your knuckle. No words need to be said as he starts up the car and pulls out of the parking lot, his hold on your hand seemingly only getting tighter, terrified of the possibility that you might let go again.

—

Returning to your apartment, you let Carlos carry Charles inside, flopping him down on your uncomfortable couch. You kneel before your best friend, lightly removing his shoes and putting a pillow under his head.

“Y/N,” Charles muttered, eyes fluttering.

“Va dormir,” you tell him softly. Go to sleep.

Charles seemingly hummed something under his breath, a confirmation you thought as you stood up, more than ready to return to the comfort of your bed before Carlos’ flight in a few hours.

“Y/N.” And yet just as you’re about to turn, Charles’ hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping your movement and forcing you to look back at him. He’s still as drunk as he had been but his eyes are open now, green eyes you used to adore staring back at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You freeze. Of course he’s called you beautiful before but not like he’s doing now, not with how he’s looking at you now. You can practically feel Carlos’ stare at the side of your head as you swallow the lump in your throat. “Go to sleep, Charles.”

But he’s still not letting go of your hand, only staring at you as though he’s seeing you again for the first time. He’s looking at you as if you’ve transformed into someone new, someone he doesn’t recognize, but someone that has him staring in awe. “I’m in love with you.”

You’d be able to hear a pin drop with the silence that enveloped the room but you’re only frozen in place, the words you’ve wanted to hear so badly ever since you could remember only seemingly breaking your heart. A part of you, the part of you from years ago, is desperate to say it back, to jump into his arms and let him make everything better.

But the you now, the you that had touched Carlos, that let him touch you, the you that have laid with him from the other side of the world with your phone cameras on giggling the night away till your stomachs ache and your cheeks hurt from smiling, refuses to let you open your mouth. Charles may have been your past and for the longest time, you so desperately hoped he’d be your future but the truth remains that Carlos is your present and everything in you wishes he’d be more than that.

And so you stood there, in between the two men, one holding your hand and the other holding your heart.

But the silence is broken as Carlos pushes himself away from the wall he was leaning at, not even bothering to look at you as he went into your bedroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving you in shock.

How you ended up in this situation, you aren’t too sure but you can only hope Charles is speaking nonsense in his drunken stupor. In the silence, Charles had laid back down, breathing already even as he slept so peacefully after having dropped your hand moments ago, not at all aware of the mess he’s created.

You sigh, stepping away from Charles and going into your room to find Carlos folding up his clothes as he fixes his luggage. He looks as tired as you felt and you don’t hesitate walking behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you place your chin on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” you whisper against his shoulder, a slight tremor in your voice.

But Carlos only steps away from your hold, continuing to shove his clothes back in his luggage in an attempt to collect his thoughts as you sit down at the edge of the bed wondering how what was an amazing three day break turned into this.

Eventually, Carlos faces you, lightly tugging on his hair in frustration as the sad look in your eyes tugged at his heartstrings. He's always been in control. In control of his life, of his car, of his emotions. But when he looks at you, he feels helpless. You hold so much power over him and you don't even realize it.

“You have to figure out what you want, Amor, because I want you. But do you want me or do you want him?”

The thought of how much he's willing to give and to do for you is almost frightening.

“Carlos–”

But he cut you off as he walked over to you, holding your cheeks in his hands as he planted a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed his luggage and walked out.

—

When the sun shined the morning after with Charles beginning to wake, you were already up, a cup of coffee warming your hands and dark bags under your eyes. There’s a glass of water and pain medicine waiting for Charles once he finally manages to get himself up.

You’re wearing an oversized shirt that reaches your thigh, one that obviously doesn’t belong to you, a fact that Charles tried his best to ignore as he took his seat before you. “Bonjour. Je suis désolé pour la nuit dernière.” Good morning…I’m sorry for last night.

You only hummed in response, mind still racing. Without Carlos, you weren’t able to sleep at all, his last words echoing in your head along with Charles’. All you can think about is how the two of you had planned to check out a newly opened cafe down monte carlo today before his flight but now you’re left sulking in your kitchen with your hungover best friend.

“Where’s Carlos?” Charles finally had the courage to ask, glancing at your bedroom door as if he’s expecting the Spaniard to appear out of nowhere.

But your voice, a little strained and a lot tired, brings his attention back to the table. “He got an earlier flight.”

“Oh,” was all Charles said. He has a nagging feeling his sudden intrusion is the cause of Carlos’ change of plans, one you’re obviously not happy about if the deep frown on your face is anything to go by.

For a moment, the two of you remain in silence. For the first time in his life, Charles doesn’t know how to talk to you. Your sweet, easy smile that he adores isn’t present, replaced by a frown as you stare at your coffee as though you don’t even notice his presence. Despite being only having a few feet between you, you feel so far away.

Charles knows though. Unfortunately, he isn’t one of those people who conveniently forgets every stupid thing he does or say while drunk. He doesn’t get the luck of forgetting everything when morning comes. Instead, he actually has to live with the embarrassment and consequences of it all.

It’s not like drunken confessions are new for the two of you though. On your 19th birthday as Charles tucked you in bed, making sure to remove your makeup, you had drunkenly confessed just how in love you were with him. He stared at you in shock, movement stilling as he swallowed the lump in his throat before gently letting you know that he can’t offer you anything more than friendship while simultaneously breaking your heart. And after that, you convinced yourself you were content with it. You were content with being in his life, being the one by his side. It didn’t matter how much it hurt or how many nights you spent crying because at least you still have your place by his side. At least you still had him.

When the two of you were 21 after a night out that quickly turned into Charles calling you up to pick him up, he had drunkenly curved himself around you as he made you promise to never leave him. He talked about the future you’ve always dreamt of, one with you walking down the aisle and him being the one waiting for you at the end of the altar. He told you he loved you as the two of you slept with your hands entwined, a new kind of hope that ignited in your chest up until he apologized the next morning, telling you it meant nothing and he had just been drunk. It was cruel but you stayed anyway.

You stayed because he needed you. He’s always needed you. He needed you through your childhood, he needed you through your teenage years, he needed you after Jules’ death, he needed you after his father’s death, he needed you after anthoine’s death and now, he needs you still after every bad race. Charles has always needed you but the problem was that he’s never wanted you enough.

“About last night,” he starts, causing you to immediately look up at him, a kind of plea in your eyes. “Y/N, I-”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice shaky. “Don’t say anything. If you don’t say anything, I can pretend it’s just another drunken mistake, one you never meant to make. Please don’t say anything.”

“But I did mean it.” There’s a certain kind of desperateness in Charles’ voice as he says it as though he needed you to hear it. But god you’re so fucking tired of always prioritizing what Charles needs. “I’m in love with you. I think I always have been.”

“Stop,” you tell him, a break in your voice as your eyes pooled with unshed tears but they aren’t sad tears. Instead, they’re angry tears as you look down at him. “It’s unfair, Charles. You’re being so unfair!”

Charles’ head dropped to his hands. What a mess he’d made of things. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t know. You’ll never understand. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I have always put you first. I stuck through everything. I stayed even though it hurt so fucking much. I have been with you through every girl you liked better than you ever liked me. I waited and waited and fucking waited,” your voice is shaking with anger as the tears falls and Charles hates himself a little bit more with each passing second. “How dare you tell me you’re in love with me now? You are cruel and unfair.”

Charles wanted to cry too. He wanted to hold you. He wanted to go on his knees and apologize for being the world’s biggest idiot. Why did he only realize his feelings for you just as he lost you? There was nothing else to say. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“You’re not in love with me, Charles,” you said, sounding so sure as if it’s a mere fact of the universe. “You’re not in love with me. You just hate that I’m not in love with you anymore.”

—

Despite what the world thinks, Carlos Sainz is a wicked man. He’s territorial and possessive. His wants are primal and like any predator, Carlos will haunt and stalk, claim and mark. And there’s nothing he wants more than he wants you.

And Charles Leclerc is a hindrance, a bump on the road. The moment you arrived on his doorstep, apologies in your eyes as you declare yourself as his, Carlos could barely keep his hands off you. The next race weekend, you had appeared in the paddock in a skimpy dress showing off the marks on your skin as Carlos sent Charles an arrogant smile.

It was a little bit ridiculous, so much so that the team and fans alike are starting to take notice of the tension between the two Ferrari drivers. Whereas they were able to keep work and private matters separate before, they struggle now. Carlos is arrogant and Charles is bitter. Carlos, whose arms are always around you, whose lips are always on your skin, whose scent follows you like it’s engraved in your DNA, has seemingly done everything he can to show Charles that he’s won. It’s him you chose and Charles you left behind.

Charles, for his part, hasn't been doing much to relieve the tension. He has no problem reminding Carlos it’s him you loved first, it’s him you spent every milestone with, it’s him with you in every childhood memory, that he is a part of you as much as Carlos is.

Of course though, everything must come to an end and it all seems to boil over in Silverstone. The unbearable tension only seems to thicken as the race comes to a close with Carlos taking his first ever win and Charles getting nothing but P4.

The moment he stepped down on the podium, Carlos was on you like a starved man. His hold on you is bruising, his kisses demanding and you absolutely loved it.

“Carlos–” you start but he cuts you off by connecting your lips together, pushing you against the wall as one of his hands goes on your bare leg.

At that perfect moment, Charles stepped into the hallway, eyes immediately landing on the two of you. He looks disheveled, disappointment written all over his face, a deep contrast to Carlos’ arrogant smirk.

He’s at the top of the world, so much so that he’s ready to put an end to his and Charles’ pissing contest over you and he knows exactly how to do it. “Why don’t you join in?”

Both you and Charles turned to him in disbelief. Join in? The three of you?

Carlos faces you, the same smirk on his face. “You don’t mind that, do you, angel? Why don’t we give Charles a show for being such an amazing teammate today?”

Your cheeks colored pink, the idea of four hands on you turning you on more than you’ll ever admit. Shyly, you shake your head.

But Charles is still frozen in place, the undeniable tightness in his pants becoming hard to ignore as you all but grind against Carlos race suit, looking so desperate and needy that he just wanted to fuck you there and there.

“What do you say, mate?” Carlos asks again, hand rising to cup your breast. “I’ll teach you all about making her cum.”

And that does the trick. His pride and ego refuses to let that one go, having taken enough beating today than any man would ever like. He can make you cum on his own, thank you very fucking much.

That seems to put him into motion as the three of you enter Carlos’ drivers’ room, Charles’ lips eagerly going to your neck as Carlos claims your mouth.

Carlos’ hands on you are firm and demanding, keeping your body pressed up against his despite Charles’ hands placing themselves on your waist, his chest hitting your back as he planted feathery kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck. Charles’ touch is so soft, so hesitant as though he’s terrified you’d break if he pressed a little harder but Carlos’ is so demanding, so firm as though you’re his to touch and use.

“Get on your knees, hermosa,” Carlos tells you, pulling at your lower lip before he finally let go of you, a smirk on his face. “Let’s show Charles what he’s been missing.”

Charles watched the way you stared up at him under your lashes, looking like the perfect picture of innocence if only you weren't moving to kneel in front of him, nimble fingers working to push his race suit down.

He’s not too proud to admit that he’s dreamt about this for too long, wondering exactly how your hands and mouth would feel around him. And he’s definitely not too proud to admit that even way back in his teenage years before any of you truly understood what love meant, the exact sight of you right now were the ones to fill his fantasies at night.

Charles hissed the moment your hand wrapped around his cock, making Carlos smirk at the simple reaction as he sat himself on the couch, watching the way your eyes are trained on him instead of the man who’s cock you’re holding.

Even when giving a blowjob, your eyes will always follow Carlos.

“Go on, angel,” Carlos encourages, reaching forward to tuck your hair behind your ear as your hand starts moving up and down. “Get him off.”

Charles can almost see the immediate change in you upon Carlos’ demand, your movements becoming more assured as he throws his head back, unknowingly reaching to tug at your hair. And when you put his tip against your tongue, he’s sure he’s in heaven, your warm lips wrapping around him as you bob your head up and down with Carlos reaching to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

There’s a cheeky grin on Carlos’ face that infuriates Charles more than he’d like to admit – as though he doesn’t feel threatened at all despite the fact that you’re on your knees for him.

“Going to ruin you, corazon,” Carlos muttered against your ear as he moved by you, planting a kiss on the sensitive skin below your ear. “You want that?”

You’re quick to nod your head, the vibration causing Charles to hiss again as he couldn’t help the way he thrusted into your mouth, feeling his release coming as you take him as far as you could go, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

With him hanging dangerously close to the edge, Charles pulled himself out of your mouth, groaning at the way you’re staring at him as though you’re wondering if you’ve done something wrong.

Carlos only laughs as he gently guides you so you’re leaning against his chest, not wasting any time in pulling your shirt off of you. “Come on, mate. I’ll even give you first taste.”

God, Charles hated how cocky Carlos sounded. He also hated how self assured the Spaniard is when it came to handling your body, not a single second of hesitation in his movements as his thumb started flicking at your nipples, making you throw your head against his shoulder. Carlos knows exactly how to touch you to make you want more, to get a reaction out of you and he has no problems reminding Charles of it.

And Charles realized exactly what had spurred this on. Letting him have a taste of you didn’t come from the goodness of Carlos’ heart. Rather, it’s all part of his plan to show Charles exactly where he stands.

Carlos isn’t threatened because Charles may get to have you today but Carlos gets to have you anytime and wherever he wants.

And if Charles had any ounce of self respect, he would have turned around now and told his teammate to get lost but he’s never claimed to be smart and so he kneels before you, pushing your legs apart.

“Can I take it off, ma belle?” He asked softly and Carlos nearly laughed again.

Nonetheless, you nod your head and Charles doesn’t waste any time removing your pants. He lays on his stomach, nose ghosting over your clothed cunt which makes you let out a whimper.

“Please,” you all but scream out as Charles blows air into your cunt, teasing you as much as he could.

Carlos’ hand wraps itself around your neck, squeezing just enough to shut you up. “What did I say about whimpering, hermosa?”

And Charles absolutely hated the way it’s so natural for you to heed Carlos’ orders. He hates how much control the Spaniard has over you and he hates Carlos for playing such a cruel and elaborate joke.

Finally, Charles removed your underwear, chucking it somewhere behind him and the cold air hit your most sensitive area, causing you to erupt in shivers. His finger is slow when it comes to touching you, ghosting over your clit before it eventually pressed down, gathering your wetness and spreading all over your cunt

Your hands gripped at Charles' hair as his finger entered you, pumping in and out as his tongue circled your clit.

“Fuck,” you breath out, eyes rolling at the back of your head.

“What did I say about making noise?” Carlos taunts, his hand around your neck tightening for a fraction of a second. “Stupid already?”

You only grunt in response as Charles’ added another finger, scissoring them inside you in order to stretch your hole.

Carlos brought his lips on yours and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as you eagerly kissed him back. Charles fingers and mouth are igniting your body but he’s moving too slowly, not giving you enough stimulation and friction to chase after. You’re so used to Carlos’ usual brutal pace, never truly giving you enough chance to breathe as he goes down on you that Charles’ careful movements aren't bringing you as close to the edge as you’d like.

Carlos must have noticed the lack of your breathless panting because he’s smirking again before turning to Charles. “She likes it rough, mate.”

Charles looks annoyed, not having appreciated being guided or interrupted. “Fuck off.”

But nevertheless, Charles’ fingers quicken, so much so that you’re suddenly gripping Carlos’ thighs, nails digging on his skin as Charles hadn’t bothered warning you before he added a third finger in, pumping in and out of you at such a brutal pace that you instinctively attempt to close your legs only for Charles to pry them open as his thumb worked on your clit.

The Monegasque is nibbling and sucking on the skin on your thigh, leaving marks and trailing kisses as if his fingers aren't abusing you.

“Look so pretty like this, angel,” Charles tells you, eyes clouded with lust as he watches the way your body shakes, your walls clenching around his fingers and alerting him that you’re nearing your orgasm.

Carlos cooed at you. “I think she looks like a common whore. Letting us both touch you like this. You like this, baby? You like being shared?”

You barely have enough sense to form coherent thoughts, much less to actually answer him but Carlos never did like being ignored, his fingers pinching at your nipple, the shot of pain bringing a little bit of your sense back as Charles’ fingers doesn’t stop assaulting your cunt, so stretched out that he’s slipping so easily right in.

“Answer him like a good girl, baby,” Charles tells you, pretty green eyes staring straight at you.

God, their contrasting personalities might just be the death of you. “Y-yeah. Fucking love it.”

“Watch your mouth,” Carlos warned lightly but his mouth was on you again before you could even process what he said, swallowing down your moan as you finally let go of the knot that had been forming in your stomach, your cum spilling out of you and into Charles’ hand.

Your body sags against Carlos’ chest as Charles gently pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean. His eyes shut as the taste of you spread on his tongue, so dirty and sweet and everything he’s ever imagined.

But before you could even try and recover, Carlos is already effortlessly removing you away from him, placing you on the cold floor as he situates himself between your spread legs. “One more.”

“No,” you try to protest, much too sensitive to take another one so soon but Carlos seems to find your protest funny as he lets out a chuckle, not bothering to give you a warning before his tongue is diving deep into you.

“We both know you can take more, niña bonita.”

The reminder that the two of you have done this many times before wasn’t what Charles needed as Carlos licked a stripe between your folds.

“Oh my god,” you breath out, breathless as your hand flies to his hair.

Charles' hand reached towards you, cupping your jaw as he all but forced you to face him before meeting your lips, his hand going to your right breast and squeezing a little. But Carlos refuses to give you a second to breathe as he nibbles at your most sensitive bud, catching you completely off guard as an unusual loud moan escapes your lips. “Carlos.”

Carlos is smirking against your clit, his tongue coming in and out of you before lightly sucking on your clit and licking a stripe between your folds. It’s a cruel pattern, one that he’s already perfected as he tugs at your legs, pulling you closer towards him.

“So messy,” Carlos muttered against your cunt, the vibrations from his words causing you another shiver.

But you only whimpered in response as Charles’ hand wrapped around himself, slowly pumping as he listened to your soft moans.

You were already shamelessly close. It’s never been hard for Carlos to bring you to your orgasm after all and nothing is processing in your brain apart from the overwhelming pleasure his mouth is giving you, knowing exactly what spots to hit and which movements to do in order to have you moaning out.

“I’m coming,” you muttered, only having half a mind as you’re all but lost in the pleasure, your vision blurry from unshed tears.

Carlos’ tongue sped up as his finger entered you, curling for perfectly inside you in order to reach your most pleasurable spot as your body involuntarily arches. You practically squealed as your orgasm approached you, making a mess all over Carlos’ chin.

“God,” you muttered, trying to find the strength to lift your head in order to look at him as your breaths came in pants, your legs shaking and having turned into pure jelly.

But Carlos is smirking at you, that mischievous glint in his eyes ever present. “I’m not done, cariño.”

He said it so simply and in your dazed out state, you hadn’t even gotten the chance to process his words before his mouth is back on you again, causing you to instinctively try and crawl away from him but Carlos hold on you remains, arms wrapping around your legs as he pulls you back at him.

You flinch when Carlos’ tongue returns on you and Charles’ hand pumping his cock quickens as strangled moans and grunts escape your lips. The sight of you like this, looking so fucked drunk despite not having been fucked yet, is one he wants to engraved in his mind. You’re gripping air as Carlos' assault on your cunt returns, so sensitive from your two previous orgasm that you’re nothing but dead weight, having lost all your energy as his tongue sucks and licks.

“I can’t,” you moaned, hips attempting to push you up again but Carlos’ arms pushes you back down, his eyes closed and his facial hair covered in your cum as he eats you out.

Charles throws his head back, his own orgasm coming just in time with your third as his hands quickens, thumb rubbing his tip till both your moans fill the small drivers’ room. As he sprays his cum all over your chest, Carlos guides you to your third orgasm with barely any effort. His tongue only needs to flick at your clit a few times to have you spasming again.

Both you and Charles are panting as you ride out your orgasms.

Carlos seems to pity you, giving you a few moments to catch your breath as he crawls over you, his eyes meeting Charles’ as he lightly taps on your chin, your lips automatically opening as he spits into it, tasting your own arousal mixed with Carlos’ usual minty taste.

If you weren’t so tired, you would have noticed the intense eye contact the two drivers were sharing, one with a smirk on his face and the other rolling his eyes. Carlos’ action was clear, a reminder; Charles is only touching you now because Carlos is letting him.

“You think you have one more in you, baby?” Carlos asked, pushing some of your hair back as you shake your head. “We should let Charles have a chance at ruining that cunt, don’t you think? Considering this is his only chance.”

You nod, so easily agreeing to Carlos’ words. Charles thought that Carlos could ask you to jump off a cliff and you’d probably ask the best way to come tumbling down. The thought causes an ache in his chest.

Still, Carlos is not cruel. Yes, he likes control and yes, he often pushes you to your limit whenever it comes to sex but he does genuinely care for you. It’s obvious in the way he grabbed a water bottle, tapping at your chin again for you to open up before gently tipping the contents of the bottle over, wiping the droplets of water that fell to your chin with his thumb. When you aren’t fucking each other like catholic rabbits, Carlos’ hold on you is always gentle, always careful as though he’s terrified of dropping you.

Maybe Charles was still holding out hope that what the two of you had was only sex. Maybe he wished Carlos didn’t care for you so he can find some way to steal you back but watching the two of you now, it’s obvious to Charles that he couldn’t be more wrong. This is more than sex, more than any physical relationship.

It was a slap to the face that he truly had lost you.

“Why don’t you give Charles a show and ride him?” Carlos suggested after you’ve rested enough to be able to hold your head up again.

You nod again, already crawling over to Charles. It’s a miracle you even have the energy to do so as you straddle him, your childhood best friend’s hands immediately placing on your hips as he guides you. It’s easy to sink into him, his cock easily sliding into you due to the amount of cum still covering your folds.

Your forehead falls to his shoulder, feeling so filled up and tired as you let yourself adjust to his size. It feels entirely different from Carlos’ but you realize you don’t mind. Charles is breathing heavily, his lips trailing kisses on your neck.

There’s a deep contrast between how Charles and Carlos fucks. Carlos likes being in control, always demanding and mocking. You love it though. You love the way he plays your body as though he’d studied it. You love that he knows exactly where to touch and nibble to have you whimpering. You love the cocky way he tells you to keep quiet. You love how entirely natural it is to give yourself up to him.

Charles on the other hand, is much softer. He lets you move yourself, giving you time to breath and adjust, enough to make you think you have some sort of control. The firm hands on your hips tells you that you have no control here though. It’s all an illusion.

Eventually, Charles starts guiding you up and down his length, the friction making you moan out as he grazes your clit.

Carlos is sitting before the two of you, watching intently in the way Charles’ cock disappears in your cunt, arms crossed over his chest and his legs spread, showing off his obvious hard on. There isn’t an ounce of jealousy in his eyes though, instead they’re lust filled as they watched the way your body moved, the way your skin glistened with sweat. He doesn’t even bother to tell you off for making so much noise.

Carlos is not insecure. He never has been. He knows what he can do, he knows how he looks and he definitely knows how to please a woman. There’s never been any reason for him to be insecure of anyone and Charles is no different. At the end of the day, it’s his bed you fall into every night, him who gets to hold you, him who gets to fuck you whenever he wants. He’s already won and he knows there’s no reason for jealousy, not when you’re looking at him like that as another man fucks you as if you wished it’s him instead.

Charles knows you’re spent and so he does all the work, effortlessly lifting you up and down his cock as he throws his head back. You’re sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow but at the moment, nothing matters more than your fourth orgasm of the night.

“Fuck,” you moaned when he hits that part of you, your nails digging into his back. There would be scratches tomorrow but Charles couldn’t care less.

“You’re doing so good, mon ange,” Charles mutters against your skin, his movements becoming erratic as he meets you halfway, thrusting up in order to go deeper. “So fucking beautiful like this. Looking like the perfect little slut.”

And god, the degradation went straight to your core, making you moan out as you can feel your orgasm coming to you, your tight walls squeezing him that Charles had to bite on your shoulder in order to muffle his noise.

In front of you, Carlos is still watching, face emotionless apart from the smirk painting his lips. “She’s amazing, isn’t she, mate? You should see when she’s on her knees. Fucking heaven. Try to make her squirt.”

The reminder that Charles is only borrowing you for the day isn’t appreciated as the monegasque let out a grunt, one of his hands leaving your hip and going between the two of you where your bodies meet. His thumb is immediately on your clit, flicking and rubbing in circles as he chases your orgasm.

His movement is getting sloppy, more desperate as he thrusts into you, hitting parts of you that had you screaming out as you tug on his hair.

It feels like an explosion when your orgasm finally came, squirting all over Charles and the floor as your body falls against his in exhaustion, your cheeks red from the mess you made but far too tired to truly be embarrassed.

“Fuck,” Charles mutters, breathing as heavily as you as he holds you against him, holding your shaking form against him as the two of you catch your breath.

“Bravo, Charlie!” There’s mocking in Carlos’ voice as he says it along with amusement, his dick nearly painfully hard. You'll barely notice from his face though, looking so incredibly put together and in control that you wouldn’t have thought he just gave you two orgasms in a matter of seconds a few minutes ago.

You feel as though you could faint from how exhausted you are, your body so completely spent that you can barely feel your limbs attached to you. But still, you force yourself out of Charles’ hold and crawled into Carlos’ arms, releasing a sigh of relief as the Spaniard wrapped himself around you, your naked body pressed against him and your head buried at the crook of his neck.

Carlos smiles at you, planting the usual gentle kiss on your temple as he removes the hair clinging to your sticky, sweaty skin. “You did amazing, amor.”

You only hummed in response, trying to get comfortable as his scent warfed around you, immediately relaxing your muscles.

And all the while, Charles watched as he realized that he truly had lost you.

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stylesloveclub · 1 year

Text

Pleasing (grumpy h blurb)

In which Harry's acting kinda grumpy, and y/n helps him... destress. :)

+++

Harry’s hand slams onto his phone, muting the blaring chimes of his 6 AM alarm. His head hurts and his eyes are heavy, and the thought of having to get out of bed, get dressed, and go to a business meeting when it’s still dark outside makes his feel physically ill.

He’s tired… beyond tired. Last night had been another one of his annual “In-Chef nights.” He’d been up on his feet, cooking meal after meal from 6 PM all the way until midnight, and had then spent an additional two hours with his staff cleaning up. He’d driven home in the cold rain, and didn’t even have enough energy to change into his pajamas when he got home. He just stripped down to his briefs, and collapsed into his bed.

Running on barely four hours of sleep, he’s feeling cranky and miserable and irritable. The sound of his alarm has been nagging at him through three snooze cycles, and he knows if he stays in bed any longer, he’s going to be running late.

He forces himself to blink his eyes open. He feels gross and sluggish, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, and letting out a loud groan. The early morning meeting he has today isn’t even one that he’s excited for… he hates the constructors that are helping him open a new Pleasing location in New York. They’re bad communicators, and always make mistakes in the plans that they’ve made. Harry’s a very particular man, he’s picky about the way his food is cooked, a neat freak in his home, and has an organized schedule that he never strays from. So working with these incompetent people, who somehow always manage to royally fuck something up… god it really gets Harry frustrated.

He yanks the blanket off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet meet the floor, and it’s ice cold. Great.

This is just fucking great.

+++

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Harry takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes to calm himself. It doesn’t work. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes have turned a dark, angry shade of green. “I fuckin’ said last week that I wanted gas stoves. So why is there an order for six electric stove tops?”

Ian, the contractor, fumbles in front of Mr. Styles, cheeks turning red. “Uh-um, t-the installation of the electric stoves was cheaper.”

“What did I explicitly ask for,” Harry seethes.

“Err– t-the gas–”

“So what in your right mind made you think that I’d be okay with this?”

“I– well, sir, we just wanted to go with the option that was more affordable–”

“Do you think I give a fuck which one is cheaper?” Harry yells. “For fuck’s sake, I’m running a multi-million business!” He slams the papers he’d been holding onto the desk in front of him and stands up angrily, his chair scratching loudly against the hardwood floors. “Get this fixed, today,” he says before storming out of the conference room and slamming the door behind him.

He locks himself into his office, and sits in his chair, rubbing his red-veined eyes. He’s too tired to have to deal with all this shit today. How hard is it for people to follow instructions? His life would be so much easier if everyone else didn’t fuck up so much.

He sits there for a few minutes with his head in his hands, fingers still rubbing at his eyes to try and soothe away the burning feeling he feels every time he opens them. His head is starting to hurt, a pounding migraine so intense that he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and his stomach hurts. All he had to eat today was a black coffee before he went into that horrific meeting five hours ago.

Yes, the one hour meeting they had planned had ended up taking five hours instead. He literally had to clear his schedule to fix all the fucking mistakes that they were making. They’d chosen the wrong tiles for the floor, ordered the wrong stove tops for the kitchen, and had designed all of the countertops to be one inch too low… it literally pained him to be working with such incompetent designers.

And now he was behind on his work.

He lets out a tired sigh and turns on his desktop, opening his emails. The bright screen makes his eyes sting, and he has to squint to read the tiny word on the screen. He scrambles around in his drawers and finds his reading glasses, but still, the words blur together and make his head hurt. He bares with the pain, and spends an hour or so responding to emails and filling out paperwork, until there’s a knock at his door.

“What is it?” he calls out a bit snappily, not looking up from his paperwork.

He hears the door jiggle, trying to open but struggling against the lock. “It’s me, Mr. Styles!”

Immediately, he puts his pen down and unlocks the door for his sweet y/n to come in. She’s holding a plate of food for him, and looks up at him with her pretty smile, cheeks warm and dimpled with kindness.

“Hey puppy,” he murmurs, surprised. She hadn’t come in for the majority of this week because she had finals. In fact, she just had her physics final just this morning.

“Hi!” she says enthusiastically, entering his office. “Teddy told me that you’ve been here since 8, n’that you haven’t eaten anything all day.” She looks up at him with her adorable bambi eyes, “How come you’re allowed to scold me for not eating enough at work when you’re skipping meals too?”

He smiles lightly, “you’re right puppy, that’s hypocritical of me.”

“Very hypocritical,” she nods resolutely. “So, I brought you some food! I had Teddy make it, ‘cos I know he’s your favorite.”

His stomach growls at the sight of the fettuccini alfredo in front of him. He’s starving but he’d been way too caught up in his work to think about getting up to get himself any food. “Thank you,” he says, taking the plate from her and picking up her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“It smells yummy, so I want some too,” she says, sitting down on the chair behind his desk. “But we gotta eat it quick, ‘cos I’m supposed to get back out there in five minutes.”

“Thought you weren’t meant to come in today?” he says, sitting down next to her.

“I wasn’t scheduled,” she says, shoving a forkful of the pasta into her mouth, “but then Grace texted me asking if I could cover for her. She got the flu.”

Harry hums, grabbing a tissue from his desk, and wipes off the little bit of white sauce clinging onto y/n’s lips, her mouth full of deliciously creamy and garlicky pasta. “How were your exams?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t talk about it. So hard, but everyone else said it was super hard too, so hopefully there’s a fat curve.” She claps her hands excitedly, “But at least I’m done! No more school for the rest of the month!!!”

Despite his initial grumpy mood, he can’t help the smile that graces his face. His girlfriend is literally the cutest thing in the world, especially when she gets all giddy and excited like this. She’d been really stressed out and MIA all week because of her exams, so it’s refreshing to see his lively and happy y/n again.

“So proud of you puppy,” he says, cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss.

She twirls a forkful of pasta for Harry and feeds it to him. “Are we gonna hang out tonight?” she asks.

“Of course. Need t’cuddle tonight, you’ve been so busy I feel neglected.” Just sitting with y/n for a few minutes has already calmed Harry down, the stress in his body fizzling away.

She giggles cutely. “Okay baby. We can spend alllll night together.”

+++

The ache in his stomach fades away after finishing the pasta that y/n brought for him, and after popping an advil, he feels his headache start to slowly go away as well. He’d gotten an email that the electric stove tops had been returned and that an order for the gas ones had been put in, so he’s feeling more relaxed about that as well.

He lounges around in his office until y/n is done with her shift, and they sneak out the back exit to head home together. He’s got a one hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on her thigh, and he’s feeling much better than he was this morning when he’d been all grumpy and stressed out.

When they get to a stop light, his phone rings. He thinks nothing of it when he picks up, not even looking at the caller id. “Hello?” he answers casually.

“Er– Hi, Mr. Styles.”

Harry rolls his eyes. It’s Ian on the phone. “What’s going on?” he says tersely.

“Um… so we figured out the stove issue, which is great…”

The light turns green. “Okay…?” Harry says, slightly annoyed.

“So… well– the stove company said that the shipment is gonna take a few weeks, which is gonna put the construction schedule behind since we can’t install the countertops until we put the stoves in, which means…” Harry sighs in disappointment, already knowing what’s coming. “Well, it means that the restaurant might not be ready for the opening date that we’d set.”

“Ian,” Harry’s knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel, and he’s using every cell in his body to keep his voice steady so that he doesn’t start yelling in front of y/n. “When I signed that contract with you, didn’t we agree it would be done in three months?”

“I– yes, it’s really unfortunate–” Ian stammers, but Harry cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear fuckin’ excuses,” Harry bites. “We signed a contract.”

“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” Ian says casually.

“How about we start with the fact that this issue could’ve been completely avoided had you simply followed the plan that we had agreed upon?” Harry’s voice is steadily rising, an angry fire to his tone. “Or how much money you’ve already cost me from all the mistakes you’ve made? I signed a contract and I expect the deadline to be met. It’s far too late to push back the opening of the restaurant.”

“It’s out of my control–” Ian tries to explain, but Harry won’t hear it.

“Jesus christ, do I need to do everything for you?” Harry bursts. “Call the company and tell them the delivery is for Harry Styles! Figure it out with the investors, pay them extra! We will not be pushing the date back, not when we’ve already invested so much into it.” Harry hangs up the phone angrily and throws it into his lap. “Fucking hell,” he breathes angrily.

Y/n sits next to him quietly, her eyes wide. “Everything okay?” she asks timidly.

“S’fine,” he bristles tersely, pulling into his parking spot. He puts the car in park and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him with such aggression that y/n winces for the car.

Scrambling behind him like a little puppy, she follows him into his penthouse. There’s an angry furrow in his brow as they ride up the elevator, and his lips are pressed together in a frustrated line as he types out a message on his phone. He storms into the kitchen without even glancing at y/n, and pours himself a glass of ice cold water to maybe help himself calm down.

Y/n stands shyly behind the kitchen counter, not saying anything but watching him quietly.

“Just a second, puppy,” he says, his tone impatient and clipped, pushing past her to head into his home office. He dials the number of one of his restaurant’s business partners on the phone, and spends nearly half an hour figuring out what they were going to do.

“I want a new fuckin’ contractor,” Harry rants.

His partner. Niall, gives out a hearty laugh, “I know mate, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out for ya. I know the guys over there, I’ll give ‘em a ring and see if they can get your appliances sent over any quicker.”

“Thank you,” he mutters gratefully. Finally, there was someone who knew how to get shit done. He hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly. His headache is back and his neck and shoulders hurt from being so tense.

Y/n knocks on his office door, and he sighs heavily. “Not now, puppy, v’got to send some emails.”

She steps in, despite the fact that he’s dismissed her, with sad eyes and a pout on her lips. “If this is how it’s gonna be all night then… I’m just gonna go home.”

His eyes snap up. “What?”

“You’re working and being all… grumpy,” she says quietly. “So I’m gonna get an uber.”

“Y/n, don’t be like that.” He looks at her with an exasperated look. “Something important came up, v’got to deal with it.”

“I’m not trying to be like anything,” she shrugs. “You’re stressed out and you don’t wanna talk, so I feel like I’m just annoying you by being here.”

“Baby…” he sighs, rolling away from his desk and getting up to go stand in front of her. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest in a shy, almost protective manner, and she has her bag hanging off of her shoulder, fully prepared to leave. Standing in front of her, he can see the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t go, m’sorry.”

“I know you’re upset…” she whispers, looking down at the floor, “but that doesn’t give you the right to be snappy with me. It hurts my feelings.”

Oh, his precious girl, so sweet and sensitive. His heart breaks a little bit, knowing that he’d made her sad… he’d been so caught up in his own stress that he’d neglected her feelings. He knows that she was probably so excited to come over after having finished all her exams… and he knows that she’s sensitive. She gets teary eyed whenever someone uses a stern voice with her, cries for days if she ever gets yelled at. Of course it would hurt her when he pushes her aside and snaps at her to leave him alone.

He pulls her into his chest, “Sweetheart, you’re right, m’sorry. I shouldn’t be takin’ it out on you, you’ve done nothing but been sweet t’me all day.” She’d brought food for him when he was hungry, was cheerful and lovely on the car ride home, and had tried to talk to him when he was upset… only to get pushed away at the end of the night.

“I wanna stay, but not if you’re gonna be mean,” she says into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair, “no, m’done puppy. Not gonna be mean, promise. Please, stay?”

She looks up at him and smiles softly. “Okay,” she puckers her lips and leans up for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

He smooths his hand over her hair, and rests his head atop her cheek, still hugging her close. She’s warm and smells sweet… holding her in his arms is all he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“How about I go take a shower while you send your emails, and then we can go to bed?” she suggests, pulling away.

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No more emails tonight, I can send them in the morning.” It’s late at night anyways, it wouldn’t make a difference if he sent them now or tomorrow.

“M’getting in that shower with you.”

+++

In the shower, y/n washes away all of Harry’s stress and worries. She lathers up the loofah with the rose scented body wash that she keeps in his shower, and rubbed it all over his chest and back and biceps. She even went so far as to lift his arms above his head and scrub his armpits for him, making Harry cackle at how silly she was.

Then, she took his yummy smelling shampoo and had him bend down so that she could wash his hair for him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp deliciously, scrubbing his hair as though he were getting spoiled at the salon. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the foamy shampoo dripped down his forehead, but she always made sure to rinse the bubbles away before they got into his eyes.

They got out and dried themselves together, standing in front of Harry’s heater in their towels for a few minutes while y/n brushed her hair. He changed himself into only a pair of boxers, while y/n opted to skip on undergarments (it’s very important to let ur pussy breathe!!!), putting on only a pair of thin sleep shorts and one of Harry’s huge t-shirts.

“M’gonna give you a massage,” she tells Harry once they’re both changed, shoving him onto the bed. He chuckles to himself at her weak attempt to manhandle him, but complies easily, settling onto his stomach so that she could straddle his back. She squirts some lotion onto her hands and warms it up between her palms, then rubs it smoothly onto Harry’s broad and muscular back.

“Mm, thank you baby,” he groans. “So good t’me.”

It’s all innocent at first – y/n knows that Harry was stressed out and probably super tense, so she thought giving him a nice massage to work out the knots in his shoulders would be nice. But, of course, with Harry shirtless underneath her, it’s hard for her thoughts to stay completely pure.

Harry’s so strong and muscled… it’s so hot. He feels firm underneath her hands, her palms smoothing over the ridges and curves of the muscles in his toned back. His shoulders are broad and his biceps look huge, even without being flexed or anything. The skin of his back is warm and smooth… so soft and tan. Her mouth waters as she rubs her hands up and down his back.

Her fingers find his shoulders and she kneads them deeply, which makes Harry let out a loud groan. His shoulders are particularly tense, and her little fingers are rubbing the tight knots in them so nicely. “Harder baby,” he grunts, and she obliges. Her thumbs dig deep into the meat of his shoulders and rub in slow, painful circles.

She uses all her strength to massage him. He’s so built, every inch of his back covered with hard muscles, that it takes a lot of energy to really get in there. She has to put her entire weight into her hands and press deep onto his back. Luckily, the lotion made it easy for her to glide over his skin and knead his sore muscles. The groans that he lets out tell her which spots to focus on.

His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. It hurts so good. His cock has started to plump up a bit, twitching every time her delicate fingers knead a particularly painful knot in his back. She keeps rubbing him, digging her fingers into his muscles, and the pressure in his cock grows unbearable.

He flips himself around, unable to deal with it any longer. Y/n gasps at his sudden movement, then finds herself short of breath when she settles herself back down on his lap and feels how hard he is underneath her. Straddling his hips in nothing but her little, thin pair of sleep shorts, she can feel him… feels the curve of his cock, restrained in his boxers, and feels the ridge of his tip nudging against her clit. She’s sure that he can probably feel her pussy too, feel every fold and the tiny bud of her clit.

He smirks up at her when her little pussy flutters around nothing, twitching so delicately against his clothed cock. Her center feels hot, keeping him warm while she sits prettily atop him. “Keep going baby…” he says, voice low and dangerous. “M’arms hurt so much, can you rub ‘em for me?”

He pouts up at her, but it’s a mocking pout. He knows exactly what she’s thinking about, and it’s much more filthy than his innocent request for an arm massage.

Nonetheless, she squirts some more lotion on her hands and brings them down to his strong biceps. He’d been to the gym yesterday for arms, so he wasn’t lying when he said they were sore. But also, that means they’re particularly pumped today, firm and delicious… y/n just wants to bite them.

His hands rest on her hips while she rubs her palms up and down his arms, his thumbs tracing soft circles onto the skin of thigh where her shorts have ridden up. She looks like she’s intently focused on rubbing his arms, but really, she can’t stop thinking about the way his cock feels underneath her. He subtly grips her hips and presses her down harder onto the hard bulge in his pants, and lets out a strained breath through his nose. Y/n similarly feels her breath catch in her throat, her hands pausing momentarily as she flutters her eyes shut.

“Feels so good baby,” he murmurs when her hands migrate up to massage his chest, rubbing circles over his swallows and tracing over his butterfly delicately. It’s a not-so subtle innuendo to fuel the fire of the sexual tension burning between the two of them right now.

The hands on her hips start to slide upwards, under her shirt to rest on her warm tummy. He can see the soft peaks of her nipples poking through the shirt she’s wearing. “Baby… show me y’pretty tits, please?” he begs. He slides his hands even higher until his fingers graze the undersides of her breasts. “Had such a long day, I deserve a treat don’ I?”

“Y-yeah,” she agrees softly, taking her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor. She’s left topless, her perky nipple peaking in the cold air of Harry’s bedroom, and her wet pussy pressed firmly to his hard cock.

She continues rubbing his chest with her tits out, and Harry takes it upon himself to do the same to her. He plays with her tits, holds them in his palms and rubs his thumbs over her hard nipples. Still, it’s not enough.

“Come closer, baby,” he murmurs lowly, guiding her forward. She inches forward slowly, back arching while holding herself up with her arms, until her boobs are hanging in front of Harry’s face.

He sticks his tongue out and leans up, attaching himself to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth gently. His tongue licks the soft bud gently, and he hums happily. “Mmm, baby, so nice to me,” he mutters, switching to her other nipple, “Lettin’ daddy play with your pretty tits ‘cos I had a long day.” Hand engulfs the breast that he’d just hand in his mouth, palming it gently while his tongue plays with the other. His teeth skim her soft skin gently, and he starts sucking. Each purse of his lip and pass of his tongue sends a shock straight down to y/n’s center, and she’s absolutely, totally drenched. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest, and she can’t help herself before grinding herself down.

Since she’s lifted herself up to align her tits with Harry’s face, she’s no longer sitting on his bulge, but instead now sitting on the butterfly painted on his abdomen. She presses herself onto his abs, soothing the dull ache that comes each time he hums around her breast.

Her boobs are so plump and plushy, dangling in front of his mouth and covered in his spit. His hands grope her chest sensually, pushing her breasts into his face and letting himself indulge like a teenage boy. He lets them bounce on his face, skimming his lips against them then pulling himself back, teasing himself. He nudges his nose against them, and they jiggle prettily right in front of his face. God, he’s making himself so hard, playing with her tits like this, having them all up in his face. All he can see is her skin, the roundness of her breasts, the soft bud of her nipples. No matter which way he turns his head, he makes contact with her, her nipples skimming his cheeks or his lips dancing against her sideboob.

“Jus-” she gasps when he takes her boob back between his lips and sucks, tongue curling around her nipple, “Jus’ wanna make you happy daddy.”

“Doing so good baby, taking caring of me so well,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips from her skin before reattaching to her areola. “You know what would make daddy so happy?”

“W-what?” she whimpers, pushing her clit down against his hard abs.

“If you got on my cock and got yourself off. Could you do that for me, puppy?”

She nods eagerly and shuffles herself down, shoving Harry’s briefs down. His cock bounces up and slaps against his stomach, the tip completely slick with his own precum and arousal. She doesn’t even bother warming herself or Harry up – the massage and his little play session had gotten both of them 100% ready.

She doesn’t take her sleep shorts off, genuinely too excited to stuff herself full of his cock. Grabbing him by the shaft, she hovers right over his hips and slowly guides him into her dripping cunt. The slide in is easy, absolutely no resistance from how wet she is, and she’s able to bottom out on the first go.

Her hands rest on his chest to support herself, and she starts to lift her hips, up and down, skin meeting skin with every drop down. Her nails dig into his flesh, and it hurts just as good as her massage had. She’s riding him like she never has before – usually she’s a bit of a princess, mostly grinding her clit down and rubbing herself on his cock slowly until her thighs start to burn and she whines for Harry to take over.

Now though, with the way he’d teased her all nice, she’s bouncing on his cock properly, using all her strength to pull herself all the way up, then drop back down. She sets a messy pace for herself, but it doesn’t matter. He’s hitting all the right spots in her, and that’s all she care about.

Harry lies on his back in bliss, her pussy absolute heaven around his cock. Her messy pace and high bounces have her tits jiggling, and Harry pushes himself up onto his elbows to get a better view. “Fuck, puppy, you’re an angel.”

He brings a hand down to rub her at her clit, fingers rubbing tight circles as she grinds herself on him. “Gonna cum baby,” he groans, “Are you close?”

She whines out, and nods messily, eyes shut as she keeps herself going.

Harry throws his head back, and shuts his eyes, rubbing her clit faster and faster until she’s cumming, clenching around his cock and squeezing him so tightly. His vision goes white his ears start to ring, and he’s in absolute heaven.

Y/n collapses onto his chest, and he spurts out long streaks of cum into her warm pussy, balls clenching with every release and his hips twitching upwards, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly can. She lays on top of him heavily, breathing hard with rosy cheeks and a glistening forehead from how hard she’d worked to get them both to their end.

He pulls her up for a kiss. What had he even been stressed about, again?

+++

HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED!!! SUB TO MY PATREON FOR MORE EXCLUSIVE PLEASINGRRY CONCEPTS AND EARLY ACCESS TO ANY AND ALL FICS!!!!

#harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry fic #harry writing #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #daddy harry #daddy!harry #daddy!harrystyles #harry styles daddy #dom harry #dom!harry

2K notes · View notes

reds-writings · 3 months

Text

rust cohle headcanons

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: here's some more rust brain rot on my behalf <3 feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: implications of sex, light cursing, etc. let me know if i missed anything! (minors shoo!)

word count: roughly 1k

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adding to the headcanon floating around of him being an acts of service type man through and through. yes, he can go on neverending tangents but sometimes words about his more sentimental/mushy feelings are better demonstrated by him being at your near beck and call whenever you’re in need

you don’t even have to directly ask him to do anything. it’s more like if you were to mention offhand that something in your car didn’t sound right or your fence needed some redoing they’d find themselves fixed within the coming days without so much as another word

that man is crafty and i cannot be convinced otherwise! the little beer can people he made are just a small example of what he can do with his hands. one day in town you saw a beautiful chestnut dining table but it was just a tad out of your price range so you figured you’d save up a little more for it and get it the next time you stopped by

rust had some downtime (more like made downtime during his bouts of extreme insomnia) and got to building. it was a while after and by that time you had long forgotten about the table you saw until one day you got home from work only to find an ornately designed table in your dining room. it was a bit different than the one you’d spotted at the shop but no less beautiful. in fact it was even more gorgeous with its polished shine and intricate details

you had searched for a note or maybe even a sign left anywhere of the maker that it came from to then spot a neatly carved ‘RC’ underneath one of the tabletop’s lefthand corners

your fingers grazed over the simple set of initials as your brain damn near short-circuited at the fact that this man built you a damn table. with his bare hands. rust cohle saw that you liked a table and decided to just make it himself

you’d made your way to the receiver on your wall after snapping out of your disbelief and rang him up

“You built me a table.” You said it more as a statement than a question instead of a normal greeting.

“I did.” His tone held no sense of pride or smugness at your shock. As if this were no big deal at all.

“You built me a table. When did you have time to build me a whole table? In fact, when’d you start bein’ able make tables in the first place-”

“D’ya like it?” He interjected in that lackadaisical way of his and you paused.

“...I love it.”

“Good.”

“Well, I guess then it’d only be fair for me to invite you over for dinner so that we may put this lovely new table to good use. As thanks of course.”

You heard him huff in fond amusement on the other line, “Yes, ma’am.”

y’all put that table to good use alright

he’s more of a grappler than a cuddler when it comes to sharing a bed

he holds you as if in need of tethering himself. it was as if he were to let go somehow this wouldn’t be real and your presence would flit away should he loosen his grip at any given moment

if you get too hot in the night any point of minimal contact was still initiated like tangling your foot with his or linking pinkies just so he knew you were nearby (this happens longer down the line in your relationship when he feels a bit more comfortable having someone in his space a bit more constantly)

quality time together isn’t necessarily always spent doing something totally stimulating or exciting

it could be as simple as cooking dinner together or curling up on your sofa while he reads and you watch something soapy on television

he’s a very private man so going out to do something super couple-y isn’t really up his alley. he won’t really ever deny you if you wanted to really switch it up and go to places like bars, the movies, fancy restaurants, etc. he’d just find himself more reserved in more public spaces but no less completely and utterly focused on you

he’s not much of a dancer but don’t get it twisted. his ass can dance. the man is from Texas so you best believe he has more than a few line-dancing routines ingrained in the depths of his mind

on the very few occasions you’ve gotten him to agree to dance with you when you’re out you nearly laugh every time with how seriously he takes it

you find yourself cooking food for him often. not that he ever expects it of you but living off of cigarettes and beer can only do so much for a guy. he genuinely forgets that his body needs a meal when he gets all caught up in his work (you don’t bother nagging at him much because he’s grown and more stubborn than anything at times)

if you aren’t available to check in on him you’re not above making Marty grab something for him when they’re stuck at work

any kiss he gives you is not one made in passing. anything rust does has some level of deep intent behind it but he never kisses you or says ‘i love you’ out of routine or empty habit

he’s a deeply feeling guy and a lot more handsier the longer you’re together (usually still only in the privacy of your own home). it goes back to just having to feel tethered or connected to you! it comforts the more broken/scared bits of him knowing that you’re just there and present and real

his synesthesia can make things overwhelmingly intense so sometimes when you’re out or after certain activities he finds himself in need of longer moments to himself (which you never take personally)

in less serious moments you find yourself asking him the dumbest questions you can about smelling colors or tasting places

“So does that mean Marty’s got a taste to him? You've tasted your coworker?” You snickered as you lay beneath the weeping willow in your front yard with him.

“It don’t work like that.” He said around the unlit cigarette in this mouth, tone sounding as if he were entertaining a silly child.

“Nuh-uh! You said somethin’ awhile back about my presence tastin’ like jasmine and clementines or somethin’-”

“Drop it.”

You poked your tongue in your cheek trying not to giggle.

“I bet you Marty tastes like stale coffee and I dunno…regret-” You snapped out a surprised laugh as you felt a quick pinch on your side.

#rust cohle x reader #rust cohle imagine #true detective season 1 #matthew mcconaughey #true detective imagine #rust cohle headcanons #rust cohle #reds-writings

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mulberrimouse · 2 months

Text

Part 2!! Thank you guys for all the love and support on part 1 :)

Part 1 here!

Info and warnings!!: Friends to lovers, Andrew x FemReader, HEAVY smut (MEANING SEX) , non-scientific terms (such as cock and pussy, etc etc). Breeding kink and nipple play if you squint and tilt your head to the right a little. Making out, teasing, praise and devotion, and the fluffiest of fluffy aftercare.

This is my first time writing real smut in a long while so please be gentle! It'll be clunky and I don't really know how to use replacements for genitalia and whatnot.

Again, thank you so much and sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes :3

--------------------------------------------------------------

Andrew pulled you the rest of the way down the hall and got to your room. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were pretty sure he could hear it. As soon as he had the door shut behind you, he grabbed your waist and shoved you against it, flooding your senses with the feel of his hands and the scent of cologne.

You felt butterflies at the familiar aroma. You've spent so long with it stuck in your house and even your sheets after letting him crash at your place. Everytime you breathed in around him, you felt your chest get warm at the smell. You felt heartache when it lingered around your house after he was gone.

You were pulled from your thoughts when Andrew spoke up.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? You seem distant."

You look up and see his worried expression and feel a pang at your heart. Sure, you definitely wanted him. You've spent months feeling almost ravenous at the mere thought of him. However, you really did love him.

"I'm alright Andy. Just a little overwhelmed is all."

He hummed and smiled before leaning down to kiss you, softer than he had all night. You smiled into his lips, causing him to smile. The both of you broke out in giggles and he backed up slightly, his hands loosening.

"You're sure you're okay, though? We don't have to do anything."

"Yes Andy, I'm alright. I just..." You trail off, suddenly bashful. You desperately want to tell him how happy you are, how relieved, but the sight of his messy hair and heaving chest are causing your brain to short circuit. Not to mention his hands still resting on your hips and his messy makeup. "I'm just very happy is all."

"I'm happy, too sweetheart. I can't tell you how long I've wanted this. We'll go slows alright? ... At least for now."

You nod and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into you. As he kissed you, you felt dizzy and lovesick all over. He pulled you off of the door and led you over to your bed where he laid you down, lips not leaving yours even once.

When he pulled away, he giggled a little bit. You were confused and slightly mortified, wondering what could be making him laugh right now.

"What are you giggling about, Andy?"

"Oh nothing. It's just my face paint."

"What do you mean?"

He opened his mouth to speak but he quickly shut it, instead pulling out his phone and opening his camera. Before you could say anything, he snapped a picture and turned the phone so you could see. His makeup was smeared around you mouth. You giggled at that, too, and grabbed his phone.

"You should see yourself then!"

You took a picture and showed him how he looked. He let out a full laugh and took the phone back to place it on the night stand.

"Should we clean this off, first? I wanna do this right and I don't know if that includes smudging makeup everywhere"

You both walk over to the bathroom and you hand Andrew the makeup wipes in your bathroom cabinet. He pulled one out and turned to face you. He grabbed your face gently and you close your eyes as we swiped the cloth over your face. When he was done, he pulled out another and did the same to his own. After throwing them away, he turned to you and grinned before leaning down and capturing your lips with his. He guided you back to your bead with out breaking contact. Eventually, you both made it to your bed and you laid down.

Andrew kissed you and started to make his way down your throat, paying extra attention to your collar bones. He left as many marks as he could, thoroughly enjoying the idea of people seeing them the next time you go out. Every nip and lick drew a tiny whimper from your throat that drove him insane. Once he was satisfied with the bruises, he pulled away and slipped his fingers under the collar of your sweater. He paused and looked up at you.

"Remember, you can back out at anytime, sweetie. Okay?"

"Yes, Andy just please!"

He laughed and shook his head, mumbling just loud enough for you to hear. "Needy little thing."

He pulled at your collar to leave a few more bites and small marks before you sat up enough to yank your sweater off. At that point, Andrew might've stopped breathing. The dark green lace bra you were wearing made you look devine to him. You heard him let out a groan before he was licking and biting your tits through the fabric.

"Fuck- Andy. Jesus." You give out a surprised laugh. "Give me a second and I can get it off."

"Fuck, angel," his words were slightly muffled as he refused to pull away. "You're so god damn beautiful."

"No more candy nicknames, huh?" Your words came out through whines and puffs of air as he continued assaulting your chest.

"It's what you are. A fucking angel."

Before you could say anything back, Andrew managed to unclasp your bra and pull down the straps enough for it to slide off. As soon as he saw you sitting bare for him, he lost it. He shoved you against the bed and immediately starting kissing and sucking at your chest. You heard muffled moaning leave his mouth and looked down to see him rubbing his cock into your mattress.

"Fuck- Andy, baby please! Need you."

He groaned and looked up at you, his eyes half lidded and loose strands of hair falling out of his bun. "Say it again. Now. Please angel."

"Need you t'fuck me."

He nodded and sat on his knees. The cool air and spit made you squirm. The laughed and swiped his thumbs over your nipples lightly, not expecting much. However, you whined and arched your back, silently pleading for more.

"Oh really, angel? You want that?"

"Yesyesyesyes please Andy please!"

He used both hands now, curling and pulling at the buds of your tits as you moaned and whimpered. It didn't take long before he couldn't stand it.

"M'sorry angel. I can't take it. I need you. Now."

You nod your head embarrassingly fast and move to take your skirt off. His mission of removing his tie and getting off his shirt goes completely abandoned when he sees you wearing panties that match the lace and color of your bra.

"Shit..."

You look up, confused and slightly worried. You see Andrew staring down at you, pupils blown wide. His arms drop at the same time he does. Before you're even sure of what's happening, he's on his knees in front of you, pulling you closer to him by your waist. All he does is look into your eyes. You nod your hair and he instantly ducks down and sucks your clit into his mouth.

You throw your head back and arch your back, gripping at the sheets. Through your own moaning, you hear Andrew whimpering as he slides down a little to teas around your entrance.

"Oh god please Andy, please!"

You're a little surprised when he doesn't put up a fight or tease you in anyway. He fucks his tongue into you as much as he can while he circles around your clit with his thumb. You can feel yourself on the edge, just about to fall off.

"Please please please don't stop- I'm so fucking close!"

He hums and nods his head as much as he can, moving back up to suck on your clit and flick his tongue back and forth. The vibrations send you over the edge. You nearly scream, but clamp your hand over your mouth, aware again of the people just down stairs.

He slowly settles his movements, letting you come down. You were panting at this point, heart pounding as you tried to come back to earth. When you did finally return, Andrew was still on his knees, watching you like a feral animal.

"Was that good, angel?"

You nod and laugh a little, astounded that he would even have to ask. He smiled and nodded before standing up and crawling over you.

"Do you think you could cum again? On my cock this time? Please?"

At that, all you could do was yank him down and kiss him. He spoke quietly against your mouth, begging for an answer.

"Yes I can just- please fuck me."

He manages to quickly take off his tie and unbutton his shirt enough to yank it off. His hands go down to the button and zipper of his pants but you away them away. He chuckles lightly as you start to unbutton them for him, eyes widening as you see the strain on his boxers from how hard he is. You worry slightly that it won't fit or it'll hurt too much but Andrew's hips jerk forward and he whines a little before he cuts himself off, slightly embarrassed.

You pull the pants down his thighs before he stands up to pull them off. He dips his fingers under the band of his boxers and slips them off, quickly walking over and getting on his knees on the bed. You look down and gasp a little. His cock was long, which you could've assumed after what happened at the party earlier, but fuck. The tip was red and he was leaking precum.

He leaned over, propping himself up with hands on either side of your head, and you looked up at him, eyes wide and slightly glossy. He kissed you, all teeth and tongue, buying your bottom lip and moaning into your mouth. He grabbed his cock and slid it through your pussy. He found your entrance. As soon as he pushed the tip inside you, you fell back. He kept going, pausing momentarily to let you adjust to his length.

When he finally pushed in all the way, he stayed completely still. You finally opened your eyes and saw that his were still shut. He was breathing heavy and his arms were shaking a little.

"Andy, are you okay? Baby?"

He nodded and opened his eyes to look at you.

"Yeah, just- shit... You feel so good. Don't want this to be over immediately."

You nodded and assured him he could take his time. After a few deep breaths, he pulled back and pushed back in. He lost it, falling towards you and holding himself up on his forearms.

He tried to stay slow, he really did. He didn't want to hurt you in any way. But the sounds you were making, the begging and whining, scratching his back with tears forming in your eyes. It got to him. He leaned back and pulled your hips onto his thighs and smaller into you, over and over. You grabbed the blanket and pulled it up so you could bite down on it, desperately trying to muffle your screams.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck, you feel so god damn good, angel. Jesus fuck- so soft and wet and warm. God... I'm close."

You nod and let out an embarrassing long whine before gripping on to his hand. The pressure that had been building up in your stomach easy about to explode and you knew it'd be extreme. He reaches out a little so it's easier before speaking again.

"Where- Jesus christ. Where do you want me to cum? Hurry, angel."

"Inside! Please inside, Andy!"

He groaned and his movement stuttered. He started going harder somehow, and nearly growled.

"Yeah? Inside? Fuck, you're gonna get it all, angel."

You cum right after he finishes speaking, back arching and eyes squeezed shut. He feels you squeeze around his cock and after a few more thrusts, he's cumming too. He shudders and starts bucking his hips uncontrollably, using the last of his energy to ride out the high for as long as possible.

Finally, he comes down. The both of you are sweating and hot but neither of you care. He collapses down on top of you and breathes into your neck. You hand goes straight into his hairs combing through the locks and scratching his scalp. He hums and practically melts into your body. You feel sleep take hold and the last thing you hear is "I love you." before you pass out.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the house is quiet. You come back to your senses and you feel a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You feel quite gross as you remember you hadn't actually showered, but your pure joy at finally having Andrew greatly outshines it.

You check your phone and see a text from your friend, sent the night before.

"I saw you head up the stairs with HIM. Don't be a pussy. I'll clear everyone out in a little bit. Love you!!"

You giggled and sent a little thank you before shutting off your phone and leaning back into Andrew. He hummed and grumbled a little bit before his eyes fluttered open, instantly looking for you. He smiled and pulled you in closer.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

"Morning, Andy."

You whisper sweet things to each other, never seeming to be able to stop grinning. He kisses you as much as he can, holding your face close to his. It's slow and gentle and full of love. After a while, you both agree to hop in the shower.

He washed your hair and runs conditioner through it. He gives you a small massage as you scrub off your body. He let's you scratch and massage his scalp with shampoo before kicking you out to let you dry off and get into bed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! You're tired. Go lay down and wait for me, okay? I'll be out soon."

You eventually give in, leaving the bathroom and changing into a tee-shirt and clean underwear. Eventually, Andrew comes back out, sweat pants hung low and hair still damp but not dripping. He climbs into bed with you, immediately warming you up. He kissing your forehead, eye lids, then cheeks and chin, before connecting with your lips. He sighs and you can feel his shoulders relax.

The rest of the morning is spent in bed with him, talking about nothing.

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OKAY!!!! DONE!!!! This one was significantly longer and I hope you enjoyed!!! Lots of luvvvvv :3

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier smut #hozier fic #hozier fanfiction #hozier fandom #hozier x reader

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lunarpeonie · 9 months

Text

midnight in the ocean

In which Geto is a sweet pea and tries to help you, but you’re just not a morning person.

2.2k words, fluff

Mornings were easily your least favorite part of the day. You were a night owl and as such, spent the dark hours of the night searching random questions on Google like Why are clouds white? and scrolling through Tiktok. However, recently your late night plans had been foiled by a certain long haired, gauge wearing sorcerer whose name might rhyme with meadow. Geto had been on a crusade to get you to bed earlier ever since you had slept through three alarms and six phone calls from him the morning of a semi-important (read: very important) mission a week earlier. So what if you had been a little late? A few hours late when a curse had been there for weeks really didn’t make a difference. (Only… it did. You had been assigned the mission with specific directions to attack the curse at sunrise because that had been its weakest point during the day, before it could take cover in a dark crevasse of the abandoned building it was inhabiting. Something about it being manifested by people’s fear of the dark and it being afraid of the rising sun. Instead of an easy fight like you had expected, you had been thrown through a few more walls than you would’ve liked.)

Ever since, Geto had been trying his hardest to get you to bed early to avoid any other possible incidents. He was being ‘responsible.’ Whatever.

Attempt 1

First, he had taken your phone and hid it deep within the confines of his baggy pants after returning to the dorms from an outing with your classmates.

“Are you serious right now? Give me my phone back, Geto.” He shot you back his tight lipped smile, eyes shaped like crescent moons.

“Ah, no can do. You need to start a habit of getting to bed earlier. What better way to do that than to rid yourself of your main distraction?” Your jaw dropped. The audacity of this man to act like you were an unruly child in need of parenting. Sure, was it a little irresponsible to keep up your night owl activities when you had to be up early in the morning some days? Yes, you could admit that. But that didn’t mean you needed someone else, someone your own age, to parent you.

“If you think that putting my phone in your pants is going to stop me from getting it, you really must not know me well enough.” You challenged, eyes narrowing so that he knew you meant business. He just continued to smile back at you in a way that was starting to feel a little condescending.

“Try it.”

This had ended with you crouching on top of Geto, foot to his neck, and hand fishing down his pants. (Awkward in retrospect, but you were desperate and on a mission to get your phone before your favorite Tiktoker went on live for the night. You only wished that Gojo hadn’t been walking by at the same time. He now had a plethora of pictures from what he deemed “the indecent incident” and was determined to remind you of it every chance he got.)

Attempt 2

The next thing Geto tried was another tactic that made you feel like an unruly 5 year old. A knock on your dorm door had you pausing the DIY rug making video you had been watching and rolling your desk chair over to answer it. Standing on the other side of it was Geto wearing his signature smile once again. He was clad in his silky black pajamas and had his eye mask sitting on top of his head.

“Can I help you with something?” You rolled your eyes, knowing that him showing up at your door at 11PM meant he was trying to prove a point.

“Yes, you can.” He said cheerily. Much too cheerily for past 10. This was ‘me’ time that he was interrupting. “You can try these.” He held up a purple jar with Z’s plastered on the label. “Maybe then you can get to bed at a reasonable hour. You do know that we are supposed to be on the road to exorcize that cursed spirit at the elementary school by 8AM tomorrow?” You stuck out your hand to grab the jar and leaned your head closer to the label to see exactly what he meant by these.

For a healthy sleep cycle. SLEEP! No next day grogginess!

“Are these…” You started, “Melatonin gummies?” He happily nodded his head, his inky bangs swaying back and forth as he did so. You could feel your blood pressure rising with irritation that he had interrupted your ‘me’ time for something so stupid. You still had 20 minutes left on your rug making video and there could be dire consequences if you didn’t finish it. Didn’t he understand that? So, out of frustration, you aimed for the biggest target (his head) and threw.

You were late again the next morning.

Attempt 3

It was a few days later when sitting at a bench along the many walkways around the school, ready to chow down on your lunch of leftover pepperoni pizza, Geto plopped down on the bench beside and laid a white, half moon shaped contraption between you.

“Uh, what is that thing?” You asked with a mouthful of pizza, closing the latest edition of a teen gossip magazine that you had been lazily flipping through.

“A sound machine, it makes a variety of sounds and the reviews say that it helps put babies to sleep.” You could already feel a vein throbbing on your forehead at the thought of Geto treating you like a kid once again. He began pressing buttons on the machine to show you just how many it made. After shuffling through fan noises, whale noises, and copious static noises, you placed your hand on top of his as a signal to stop.

Closing your eyes, the words began to roll out before you could stop them, “Look, it’s not that I’m against going to bed early and going on a normal sleep routine. I go to bed late because I have a hard time sleeping by myself. At home, I always had someone around. I shared a room with my sister, so I never had to sleep alone. I just… don’t feel safe when I sleep alone.” You sighed, feeling embarrassed to admit the real reason behind your wacky sleep schedule.

Geto’s signature smile lit up his face. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? We could’ve had this solved so much sooner!”

“Yeah, how?” You asked, confused and eyebrow raised.

“I’ll just sleep in your room from now on.” Time screeched to a halt. Birds stopped chirping. Wind stopped flowing. Did… you hear him correctly?

“Do you know how seriously indecent it is for you to propose something like that?!? What kind of girl do you take me for??” You rolled up the magazine you had been flicking through and began hitting that tall pervert with it like he deserved.

“Ah no! You misunderstand. I only mean to help, nothing indecent! I’ll sleep on the floor. Just so that I’m in the room and it’ll be enough for you to comfortably fall asleep.”

You paused in your magazine assault and contemplated this offer. You did love having the extra time to browse the internet, but you were always sluggish in the morning and didn’t recover until late afternoon. As much as you tried to hide it, it was really starting to drag you down.

Hesitantly you replied, “Okay… we’ll try it. But no funny business, I’m serious! One weird look and you’re getting kicked out.” You waved the curled magazine around in the air to emphasize your point.

•

That night, right as the clock struck 9:30, you heard a steady knock, knock, knock on your door. Opening the door, a pajama-clad Geto Suguru leaned into your doorway, pillow and blanket in hand. “Are you ready for our sleepover?”

You blinked twice and tried to remind (read: convince) yourself that this was a good idea. As long as no one (Gojo) found out.

“Come in,” you said with an arm extended to the small space. “You can set your stuff up right here. I moved my rug to the corner so that you had some space.” You pointed to the cherry print rug wadded up in a haphazard ball. Rug making had not exactly worked out well for you, so that may as well be its home forever. You sat on the edge of your bed, nails digging into the soft down bedding, as Geto arranged his things on the floor. You were nervous. You’d never had a guy sleep over before, even if this wasn’t like that.

Geto had placed his striped blanket directly on the floor and his pillow in the opposite direction of where yours laid on your bed. “Are you sure you’re going to be comfortable sleeping on the floor? I feel kind of bad… since you’re the one doing me a favor.”

“I’ll be fine. As long as this helps you, I’m happy.” There was that smile again. You would never admit it out loud, but his smile felt like warm rays of sunshine and you were thawing from the cold. He truly was a kind soul. What kind of person sacrifices their own comfort just to make sure that their classmate can get a good night’s rest? A generous one.

Biting down on your bottom lip, maybe it was your nerves talking, but you couldn’t help but offer, “Do you want to sleep on the bed? I feel really bad about you sleeping on the floor. I could make an indestructible pillow wall to separate us.” You fidgeted with a string on your plaid pajama bottoms, unable to look him in the eye while you offered and awaited his answer.

“Sure, I’ll even help you build the wall. I need to make sure you don’t cut corners and damage the structural integrity of it.” He winked. You felt a quick flutter in your stomach, gone almost as fast as it had come. Together, you worked quickly to arrange the pillows into double layered stacks neatly down the middle of the bed, with the occasional break to hit each other with them. Designating the wall side to Geto, you watched as he climbed over the pillow wall to lay down. You gulped, feeling your pulse quicken. Are we really about to do this?

Geto extended a long arm and patted your side of the bed. “No sense in wasting more time. If we don’t get to bed now, we’ll continue your bad habit.”

Wrapping your blanket tightly around your shoulders, you nodded your head and flicked off the corner lamp. Moonlight continued to flood in through the windows on the other side of the room. Your feet made a light pitter patter as you took a few small steps to get to the bed, now with considerably less space due to the large man laying in it. Geto slid his finger through the black elastic holding his hair in a bun and flicked it to the floor. His hair fell down past his shoulders in dark waves like the ocean at midnight. He was beautiful. This wasn’t calming your nerves one bit. Still, gaining your courage, you gently laid next to your artfully built wall of fluff and turned your head up to the man occupying your bed.

“Thank you for doing this. It was really kind of you.” A pink blush began to fill the apples of your cheeks and you could only hope that it was hidden by the darkness in the room. Geto didn’t say anything, instead opting to pat your head with his large hand, fingers dipping into your hair. Closing your eyes, you felt more comfort than you had ever felt, even at home. You knew, with one half of the strongest duo laying next to you, there wasn’t a safer place in the world than where you were at this moment.

As sleep began to take its hold, you almost caught a whispered voice replying, “For you? Anything.”

Sometime during the night, the pillow wall had scattered across the bed and a strong, muscled arm made its way around your stomach. The both of you chose not to mention it in the morning.

•

It had been a month since you started this charade and you had never felt better. Who knew a full night’s sleep (conveniently with your own personal very attractive furnace) could make you feel so great? With a sigh, you turned over to face the formidable pillow wall between you and Geto, only to find him peering over it already awake. You giggled, butterflies fluttering through your stomach. That had been happening more often around Geto recently. His gentle manner and the way he took care of you had caused feelings to blossom deep down in your chest.

“You know,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve never been a morning person, but then I started waking up to your face and… Maybe mornings aren’t that bad, after all.”

You never had a problem getting to sleep early again. Geto made sure of that.

fin.

Inspired by a prompt from @dumplingsjinson on Tumblr! Cross posted to ao3.

I demand more Geto fluff!!!! I can fix him, I swear! I had a blast writing this (even though it was at 1AM…). The writing bug caught me and I couldn’t stop until I was done.

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