#i get so giddy every time i get an ask like this
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Clingy | Lewis Hamilton
WC: 1.3K
Lewis x wife!reader
Summery:(REQUESTED) Just lewis being affectionate and clingy to his wife.
Warnings: none
Masterlist
Lewis has always been the attentive type, you loved to spoil you and take care of you. He's very loving and caring, he started picking up on your little wants and needs very early in the relationship without you even having to say anything. What was weird is how much more all his love became, everything just intensified for some unknown reason, it was amplified.
Lewis never asked you to travel with him to any of his races, he always just left you to pick and choose when you wanted, he never wanted to pressure you into coming if you didn't feel up to it. But as of late it all has changed, each week he'd ask you to fly with him.
"But Lewis, I don't have any more clothes, I'll go home and next week I'll fly out with you." You'd say and he'd just laugh.
"Sweetheart, I can buy all the clothes you want." Needing anything was not an excuse to Lewis, he earned more than enough for you to dress in new clothes every day if you wanted. And you earn your own money from working in his team as well, so money was not an issue. Offering you a job on his team was also one of the ways he'd kept you close.
"Fine, I'll go with you." You say giving up and Lewis leans over to press a loving kiss to your lips. "Only because you're cute though."
"Hey, I'll take it." You both laugh enjoying the moment.
Lewis isn't the biggest fan of PDA, sure he's kissed you when he won races before and don't get me started on the kisses you shared whenever he won world championships, the online girlies went crazy over these. Lately they have way more content to share around containing you two, or more like Lewis's hands.
He's always touching you one way or another, holding your hand, his arms around your shoulders, pulling you back to his front as you both talked to someone, arm around your waist, on your butt on your thighs, his hands were everywhere.
"My timeline is filled with you touching me." You tell Lewis while you were in the car on the way to the track, you turn the phone for him to see. His hand was on your thigh from the moment you got in the car.
"What can I say, I just have a beautiful and irresistible wife." Lewis says and you chuckle.
"Flattery does nothing, you're already married to me." You tease Lewis, he smiles at you.
"Best thing that has ever happened to me." You blush at the look he's giving you, you try to hide your face from him, it's been so many years since you started dating and he still has that effect on you. "Don't hide your face."
That makes you blush more, Lewis kisses your cheek lovingly, and you lean into him.
The rare times you're not together, you're always texting. Check-ins are a must in your relationship. Just small texts, where are you? How was your day? Did you eat? Do you need anything? Do you want anything? And a ton of I miss you(s) and I love you(s).
During race weeks, when he was in the garage or in a meeting, he'd always pop in or look for you to spend just a few minutes together before he's whisked somewhere else.
"Lewis, you look happy today." The interviewer commented at the smiley man in front of her, his smile was contagious.
“Yeah, it’s just my wife is standing right there." Lewis said and pointed at where you were smiling and talking to one of the Mercedes staff, unaware of his eyes that went to you every once and a while. But you felt it when the camera turned to face you along with everyone else. You slowly stopped talking and looked at everyone weirded out how they all turned to you at once.
"Uh hi." You say uncertain, waving your arm slightly at them.
"Lewis was just saying you're the reason he's so happy today." The interviewer said and your eyes went to your husband who was smiley just like he was all weekend.
“He's just been giddy all weekend." You try to make the focus go elsewhere, despite being in the spotlight for years because of Lewis you still weren't 100% comfortable with the attention especially when it was mainly on you.
"I'm just happy she's here this weekend." Lewis says and you smile at him refusing to say anything, since you're there most weekends.
There was a rare weekend when you were feeling a tad bit tired and wanted to just stay back home, feeling a bit sick and exhausted. After the race Lewis flew home straight away, the race was in Italy so the flight to Monaco was a very short one. When Lewis made it home the first thing he did was head to the living room where you sat watching your comfort show.
You heard the front door open and close, making you smile to yourself anticipating the warm greeting. And within seconds, Lewis was by your side, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle yet possessive embrace.
"Hey, love." He murmured, nuzzling his face into your neck. "Missed you so much."
"You saw me not even four days ago." You chuckle softly pausing your show.
"It's still too long." He sighed, tightening his hold on you. You couldn't help but laugh, it was all too funny, how protective and clingy he's become in the last couple of months. It was like he sensed it all before she did, something that she was sure of just today. The incline that you had proven today and it put everything in perspective.
"Lewis." You say pushing his braids out of his face, you turn so you're facing him, his arms loosening from around you. His eyes were filled with adoration and love, they were inviting and warm. "I need to tell you something."
“What is it, love?" Lewis asked, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. "Are you alright?" His grip on you tightened a bit. "Is everything alright? Are you sick?"
You shook your head no, your smile widening. "No, nothing like that. Actually, quite the opposite... Lewis, I'm pregnant.”
For a moment there was silence. Lewis took a few seconds to process your words, but once he processed it and it made sense in his mind, his eyes lit up with pure joy and disbelief.
"You're- you're pregnant... we're having a baby?" Lewis stammered, you nodded your eyes filling with tears.
"Yes, we're having a baby." A sound of pure joy just escaped his lips, you laugh as he pulls you up and in a fierce hug.
"Oh my god, this is amazing!" He exclaimed, twirling you around." I'm going to be a dad."
You laughed, the room is filled with the sound of pure happiness and love.
"Yes you are." You lean into him, and you verbalise your theory that you had since you found out. "That's probably why you've been so clingy and protective lately, your instincts knew before we did."
Lewis kissed you deeply, his happiness overflowing.
"I love you so much, and I love our little one already." He whispers against your lips.
"I love you too Lewis." You replied, resting your forehead against his. "I can't wait for us to be parents, and start the next chapter of our life together."
If you thought Lewis was protective and touchy before, you had it wrong. From the moment he found out about you being pregnant he doubled everything that he was before. His attentiveness took on a new meaning. Every touch, every gesture, was filled with even more love and care, now directed not just at you but at the life inside of you. You just relished in his attention and his affection, knowing that your life and your baby's life will just be filled with endless love and happiness.
Maintaglist
@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3
#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 scenario#f1 x reader#lewis hamilton#lh#lh44#lewis#lewis x reader#lewis imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis x wife! reader#lh44 x reader#lh44 imagine
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THE ART OF TONGUE!
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — pairings! gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna x fem!reader
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — cw! 3.5k, drabble format, gojo and geto’s is 1.5k alone, 3some(?), squïrting, fingëring, begging, implications of overstimulation, teasing, c**t play, face sitting, spitting, explicit descriptions of oral
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — xoxo, chris! ngl gojo and geto’s has a whole plot point, i don’t know how we got here but here we are cuties ;3
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ GOJO & GETOU —IS TWO A CROWD?
It was his idea, but you never thought your boyfriend, Gojo would act on it. Usually, he’s adamant about having you to himself, thanks to his tendency to be selfish.
It’s something you both talked about and he promises that he’ll work on it—but not like this.
“G-Gojo…are you sure about this?” you croak, harshly swallowing down that lump residing in your throat. You catch Gojo’s eyes as he kneels on the floor, leaning over the edge of the bed to bridge the gap between you both.
“Yeah, baby. I said I wanna work on being better and not so selfish anymore. So…here’s Suguru to help me out!”
And here he is, Geto Suguru, your boyfriend’s best friend and most trusted confidant. He’s a nice guy, kind-hearted and kinder on the eyes.
Especially now when he's wearing nothing but those black sweats hanging around his hips. You watch as he drops to his knees to sit beside Gojo.
"Hey, Pretty," he greets, brushing back the thick black strands of his hair from ruining his view of you.
When Gojo said to you a few days ago that he wanted to be more “open and sharing” you thought he meant with food, time, or even his stuff.
Not your pussy.
“Um…so…h-hey, Baby. I just wanna know…how is this gonna help you be less selfish?” your voice rattling by nerves.
“Oh! Welllll, I was thinking to myself, what’s something I’m really protective over, and that “thing” turned into someone. And I realized it was you, I mean, I just love you so much, baby. But I know you said it can be suffocating to have me at your hip. So, I asked Geto to help me out with this and he was happy too!”
“O…okay…but that doesn’t explain—”
“Basically, Gojo wants to start breaking his selfish habits by sharing…well, you,” Geto summed up, earning a giddy grin from Gojo.
“Yeah! So don’t be shy, Angel. We’re gonna be extra kind with you. I think you’ll like it too,” Gojo purrs as his hand trails along the supple flesh of your trembling thigh.
“So, go on 'nd spread your legs, Baby."
A devastating heat swells beneath your cheeks as your legs expose your cunt to the men before you. It’s embarrassing really, to have your sex life and Gojo’s habits blur in an instant. The only silver lining comes in the form of his best friend, the very man whose onyx eyes marvel at your puffy lips.
“Sooo…whatcha think Suru’? Isn’t she just so pretty?!” Gojo smiles as he rests his hand on Geto’s shoulder.
The tips of Geto’s fingers brush past your folds, delicately prying the delicate sheets apart.
“She is! ‘nd she’s so fucking wet already…”Geto trails off as his eyes dart to your own. The flat of his tongue drags along his pink lips entices Geto's appetite, giving birth to that swirling pit sparking at his core.
His hands break away from its polite fold over his thighs to swarm you, a palm slipping along the underside of your thigh. Yet, the pads ghost the fragile scene, using hesitancy as his means of restraint.
He glazes his sights up your body. The silk robe's barely doing its job of hiding you away, your tits are just threatenig to spill out from behind the purple fabric.
He finally falls onto your face; obsidian hues studying every curve of your pretty features. But it's your eyes that draws him in, those dewy eyes batting
“Can I...touch you, Baby?” He finally gets out, biting back any more words that threaten his shattering composure.
"Mhm...it's fine," you nod, watching as a smile curls across Geto's lips.
"Thank you." The final words roll off his tongue before inching closer to your heat, the swarming warmth of his breath fanning over your bare cunt.
“Aww, she’s so cute,” He coos at your pussy. All he allows to delve into you is a gentle touch, the pad of his thumb sketching along your splayed pussy.
He can't get over it, how he's gotten so lucky to experience your pretty pussy like this. You're soft to the touch, so warm that he can feel all his woes melting away the second he slips past your sticky folds. And fuck, you're so sticky that he isn't holding back from enjoying the cute chimes of his thumb drifting about you, tracing right back to your clit.
Geto's far too close now, so close that his lips brush past your own puffy mounds, planting a fluttering trail that brings him to your quivering bud.
“Let me know if you don’t like something, ‘kay Baby,” He assures with a hand set to knead the underside of your thigh.
“Oh, and Satoru?” Geto donning a sly smirk as he pays Gojo one final glare.
“Yeah?”
“You won’t be mad if I…accidentally make her cum…will you?”
Gojo rolls his eyes, “Tsk, whatever. But you might wanna tie your hair back… it's gonna get a little messy.”
“Don’t need to, I think it adds to the ambiance.”
Geto’s smirk fades as his tongue mellows against your clit, sending bubbly spools of spit to wade down your folds. He’s quick to twirl that slicked muscle around, cursing your glistening pearl with twitches.
He digs that much deeper, forcing your perky bud to bear the languid drag of his tongue. Just like that, he’s got your clit under his control, pulling away to watch your clit perk up.
“Oh,” Geto hums, “You taste so good on my tongue, Pretty…”
He’s just so gentle when he’s taken back down, his tongue lulling along the throbbing trench of your folds. His artful strokes pits him before the tight pout of your hole, gummy gasps clinging to the flat of Geto’s touch, And who is he to deny you? He’s made a promise to treat you kindly and that’s exactly what he plans to do when he dips the tip of his tongue against your entrance.
“Haah, ohmygod Geto—”
“Suguru, baby, don’t be so formal,” Geto grins, his sights flickering between you and your cunt. “Feels good, right? I know it does, but ‘m not done with you.”
Your teary eyes fall onto Gojo. He’s soothing you with a hand on your thigh, his slender digits brushing along your flushed skin. How could he stand for this? Was he really okay with you being split apart and exposed like this, watching his best friend make a mess out of you?
Until those tears ripple down your cheek and you get a clear view of Gojo. Him and the broad chest he's parading around just like his best friend. Him and those taut muscles rippling benenth his porcelain skin—him clenching down on his jaw.
Pity stains the forefront of your mind. Poor baby, Gojo's trying so hard to stay calm. But you know his antics by now. When he's wearing furrowed brows, clenching his jaw, and holding in each breath just a second longer than normal...he was getting antsy. it didn't help that he had an unfiltered lens to watch how Geto’s tongue dances about your pussy without care.
Maybe all he needs is a little...encouragement,
“Fuck! 'Toru, please?” you whimper out, pushing out a pout you know he won't ignore, “ I want you too!”
“Me?” Gojo dumbly asks as he points to himself. "You really miss me already, Angel?”
"Mhm," you nod feverishly, "Please?"
Eagerly, Gojo taps Geto’s shoulder, “Well you heard my lady, Suguru. She wants—”
“I see why you’re selfish, she tastes so sweet. And ‘m liking having her clit in my mouth. Why don’t we…take her on at the same time?”
“That’s fine with me,” Gojo shrugs. He pays you a glance, his soft crystalline hues scanning your face.
“How’s that sound, Angel? You just gotta spread your legs a liiiitle more…”
You follow along with Gojo’s words, your legs drifting apart until Gojo’s able to slot his head right beside Geto.
“Wow, you’ve made a real mess of her! Gojo marvels, his thumb pulling back the puffy lip of your pussy.
Geto pulls back, his hand cupping the underside of your thigh. “No, that’s all her, Satoru. Guess she likes me too,”
“‘Course she does…but let me get her to myself first,” Gojo mumbles out before he smothers himself in your bliss.
Gojo greets your pussy with a kiss, his lips peppering pecks all over the puffy hood. Geto’s nice and all, but Gojo knows exactly what you need. He knows that you like those soft kisses, that trails right down to your slit and back up to your clit.
He knows how wet that gets you too, but he wants you dripping for him, call it his homecoming from being away from your pussy. So he’s preparing himself by tugging back the hood of your clit, compelling the poor bud to the battering flicks his tongue rains down.
But he’s so caught up in the spry heat sinking into his senses, that he’s forgetting the reason behind such dramatics. Why he’s so caught up that he didn’t even notice himself delving that much deeper into you, his chin dressed in a veil of your slick.
Your hips pick up against his mouth when it’s too much for you to take, sporadically bucking along Gojo’s working tongue. And he lets you have your way too, it’s what he loves about eating your cute little cunt. He loves watching you crack beneath a few teasing flicks, just for his tongue to sink past your folds and dwell in your sweet elixir.
“She just keeps on getting wetter,” Geto groans as he keeps a watchful eye on Gojo, “But…what happens if we suck on her clit?”
“Hmmm..let’s find out.” Gojo hints.
Geto’s words don’t get the chance to simmer in your mind, not when the two men are two steps ahead of you when they press their blush-ridden cheeks flush against each other. Thankfully, they didn’t need you to think—they just need you to cum.
The puffy pout of their lips quickly settles over your clit, toiling with ushering your swollen bead into their care. But you’re split between then again, your poor pearl bearing the suckling flux of their greed. Gojo’s so gentle, using pools of his spit to spill around your bundle of nerves. It’s messy, the loud squelches of Gojo’s lips strumming at the swell of your clit.
But Geto’s the real tease. He’s so endowed in you that his head bobs along with his worked jaw. He enlists in the aid of his tongue too, the stiffened tip relentlessly scrolling over the bud of the throbbing button.
All their efforts only pull that shivering heat to overwhelm your core, your pussy spitefully ruining their bare chest in your spewing essence.
“Oh…fuck!” you sob, your back arching off the bed.
The two men pull away from you, gawking at the glossy fixture made between your legs—your swollen clit, puffy folds, and the timid current of your honey trailing from your entrance.
“Aw no, I was having fun. Did you cum already, Angel?” Gojo pouts as he nuzzles his cheek into your inner thigh.
“N-No,” you shudder, “That was just…a-a lot fr’ me.”
“Good…”Geto chuckles, turning to Gojo.
A proposal pops into Gojo’s mind. It’s a selfish one—riddled with the same nasty habit he’s trying to break. And one day, he’ll finally get it…one day.
“Hey, Suru…wanna do it again?”
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ NANAMI—SLOW AND STEADY WINS THE RACE!
Time, time, time, that’s all Nanami wants and that’s all he gets when it comes to you.
He loves taking his sweet time with you after he’s rid of the day from his mind and gets the chance to soak up bliss right between your legs. If he could, Nanami would be laid up like this every day, using his tongue to inscribe the sweetest of scriptures into your cute little gem.
So when Nanami does get his wish, he doesn’t want you to do a thing. Not to lift a finger, to raise a hand—why, he doesn’t even want you to move.
He’s got everything, all the details, all the responsibility…all the control in his grasp. He just wants you feel good, his sweet little wife. But you have a way with him, using those cute pleas to break away from the goals he’d set in place for the night.
But not tonight, not while he holds the reigns of fate taut in his palms.
That’s why he’s having you sit on his face while his hands brace your thighs, relying on those strong muscles he’s worked hours for to keep you at bay.
He prays you aren’t mad at him, it’s just that Nanami likes to keep himself close to you. He loves taking you like this, for his every sense to be overwhelmed by you. It isn’t enough to taste you, no, he wants to breathe you in, feel every twitch that claims your cunt, to hear the lewd squelches of your pussy sobbing on his tongue.
And if you remember, tonight he plans on taking his sweet ol’ time with you—which means you’ll have to bear all his antics.
Just like now, you have to accept the way his tongue bats your clit so lazily.
Skimming over your silky folds, taunting your pillowy bud to dance to his song—He can’t help it when you’re just so soft to the touch.
But there does come a time when his tongue gets too sore and he needs a break. When that time does set in, Nanami’s too excited to nuzzle his lips over your clit. He’s trapping those spry nerves between a pucker that’s ready to suckle at your building heat.
And he does just that; encircling his lips to work that pink bulb into a lazy tide. It’s cute to him having a front-row seat to your timely demise. Every flick and twirl he etches into you weaken the pout on your lips and welcomes a spill of babbles to dress the air. It’s all incoherent, but he knows what every single sob means for the welling pit in your tummy.
But with all his teasing, comes a mess that he’s going to have to take responsibility for— his chin dipping into the milky stream of your nectar.
He isn’t one to be wasteful. So when the lewd nectar of his spit and your essence threaten to seep from the corners of his lips, he’s got no choice but to slurp down every drop. And he isn’t one for the dramatics, but each gulp resonates deep within his chest as if he’s found his heavenly oasis at last.
“Ooooh fuck! Ken, don’t tease me so much! I wanna cum already!” you squeal, your lips donning a soft pout.
As a special reward, he gets to hear his sweet girl cry out for that crashing high you so desperately desire. And he’s planning to give it to you, but he just needs to remind you one last thing before he does.
“Don’t curse, Baby. Use your words,” he’s grinning too, almost chuckling at the frustration brewing across your features when he steals a glance at you.
Those pretty doe eyes batting away tears he knows are coming, your plucked brows furrowed, and you lips, oh your lips twisted up into such a frown that…it’s just turning Nanami on more.
“Well…” he utters along your inner thigh, “I’m waiting.”
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ TOJI—LOOK MA! NO HANDS!
Toji’s got big hands. Not just any kind of hands—worked hands.
Long, thick digits that wear years of work as rough skin and callouses. But even with some years on his hands, he’s still as lithe as ever. His fingers made work quick of any and every task
But there’s something about his fingers that you love—the girth.
The girth of his fingers can stretch you out just enough for his cock to ruin you, hit your sweet spot with shameful ease, and can trace over your clit without a lick of hesitation. He knows how much you love his fingers, but every now and then, you need a reminder of the skills his tongue carries.
Just like now, he’s pinning you beneath the heat of that reminder by painting your pussy in sloppy kisses.
Sloppy kisses that have to drip down the ridges of his chin and jaw. Sloppy kisses that stain his skin white. Sloppy kisses that can't be contained to the confines of his mouth.
Sloppy kisses that always end with that echoing pop of his lips.
It’s crazy to Toji how wet he’s gotten you from something so simple. He’s barely even started, nowhere near scratching the surface of his plans for you.
But maybe it’s because he’s calling it a kiss, but that's just the farthest thing from the truth. Toji isn't just kissing you, he's drinking you too, using your poor clit like a straw to quench his thirst. his lips don’t just settle over your heat. His lips are hard at work nursing your clit, relishing the frazzling streaks that spark across the flat of his tongue.
And he’s cursing in his mind at how good it feels to have to warm his mouth, how good it feels to play with your poor cunny. But that isn’t enough, his tongue’s waiting to put on a show too.
But that’s in due time.
And through all this, his hands clip to your waist like a belt, the pads of his fingers digging deep into your skin. It’s a little harsh, but it’s for a good cause that he swears by.
Because what’s a better cause than having you cum on his tongue?
And you’re so close that the sheer anticipation wrecks through your body with shivers. But there’s a line that Toji needs to keep you behind—trapping you in a corner with no choice but to beg.
“Fuuuuck, Toji please! Just a finger! I need more—”
It’s so cute to hear you cry out for more, but that’s the greed Toji’s working out of you. And he hears you, he knows you need more, but that’s simply something he can’t act on.
Toji’s head shakes at your plea, denying your pitiful request with ease. But he’s even involving your clit in the reply to you, his lips clinging to the puffy hood. Your poor clit has to follow every feverish tilt Toji takes on, the swelling heat consuming your core.
You can’t take it and he knows it, a fact that he dismisses every time your hips jolt beneath him. You try so hard to run away and he appreciates the little game of cat and mouse to welcome you into the scene, but what kind of a man would he be if he couldn’t contain you beneath a firm grip?
A grip so strong that every buck of your hips gets trapped into the mattress, Toji making little work of your rebellion.
And if he does have to use even an ounce of his strength, he’s simply using it to drag you right back to him and his grimacing mouth.
Toji's wearing a grin when he finally breaks away from your pussy, his eyes darting to meet your own.
“Sorry mama, that’s too easy,” his sights falling back to your glistening folds, “Now, stop moving or else ‘m just gonna edge you all night!”
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ SUKUNA—TAKE WHAT YOU'RE GIVEN!
There’s a certain standard that Sukuna holds both you and himself to when it comes to eating you out. He has a means to execute these standards, relying on methods that aren’t suitable for everyone.
He loves to push your limits, not because he gets a kick out of seeing you whimper out silly pleas, but because he knows that you’ll exceed his expectations.
That’s why Sukuna starts out so strong, having you lay on your tummy inches from the edge of the bed with your ass in the air. He swears you feel it more, thanks to some research that he never cares to explain.
When he does decide that it’s time to execute his methods, he’s bringing his greedy lips to ghost past your sopping wet pussy, trading up the bedroom’s air for your honeyed fumes. Oh, he loves to see you like this, that well-trained arch leaving nothing hidden from his eye. He can hinge on the succulent contours of your cute pussy, his eyes tracing over the timeless medium of pink and brown hues.
When he gets past all the gawking, he plants those thick digits around your hips and leaves all the work of stretching your folds apart to his thumbs. God, you’re dripping, still dripping from your gasping slit that's glazing over your cunt like a rippling tide. You’re making such a mess out of yourself, one that he can’t wait to clean up.
He loves to focus on that pretty bud of yours by sealing your clit up behind a suckling pout. There’s a bliss that douses Sukuna’s mind when he sucks you like this, having your clit swell in his care. He's driven drunk by in your heat, every last drop that leaves you so soft and plump that moment he breaks away with a wet click of his lips.
“Ryo…c’mom! I-I can’t take anymore! Stop being so mean!” you sob, lithe hands clenching at the bed’s gray duvet for relief.
“Stop all that crying, you’re going to cum…eventually.”
He knows you can hear it, his fingers partaking in the lewd symphony. He didn’t start toying with your sweet spot yet and you’re already ruining the pretty blanket beneath you in nothing but expectation. But you made a certain remark—him being mean? Sukuna being mean to you?
A hiss cuts through his teeth. “Besides…me being mean?”
His eyes fall back to your cunt, hinging on the opal rivulets spill from your gasping hole. The trail each tear takes on leads them to coil around your puffy clit, twinkling in the moonlight as a final hurrah before meeting its splattered demise on the blanket.
If only you knew just how mean it was of you to give him such an image to play back in his head.
“Oh baby, if I’m being so mean…then why are you making such a mess?”
#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen gojo#gojo smut#toji smut#geto smut#nanami smut#sukuna smut#gojo x reader#toji x reader#nanami x reader#jjk gojo#geto x reader#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen geto#jjk geto#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen toji#sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#cw sex mention#cw smut
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LNDS Zayne: Toy Panda (18+)
So I just bought pain relieving cream and two braces because I have managed to literally kill my wrists by writing all this smut. It's so worth it. This is just smut and fluff guys. Also really bad jokes. Like really bad. Those are my favorite.
Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.
Warnings: Unsafe Sex, Panda Outfits, Fluff, Horrible Jokes, Fingering, Penis in vagina sex
Pairing: Zayne x Reader
Synopsis: You had beaten Zayne as kitty cards and, as a prize, got him in the viral panda outfit. The only issue is he wants to take it off, and you want to help him in those efforts.
Word Count: 4.5k
Blog Information | Masterlist
Zayne
Toy Panda
You stared at the door, waiting patiently. Your panda overalls felt huge and a little warm; you played with the sleeves as you waited patiently for your favorite doctor. You were relaxed on his couch, your arms going over the edge as you stared. Any minute now and you could get to see the fruits of your labor finally paying off.
Your silent wishes were answered as you heard the click of the door opening, Zayne slowly coming out of his bedroom. A large panda outfit hung off him, the overalls being ridiculously big even on his hulking form. He didn’t bother with the hood as he adjusted his glasses. You could see the start of a blush on his cheeks as he was looking anywhere but at you.
“Oh my god you’re adorable for once!” You said, jumping off the couch to go run over to him. He really did look like a giant panda plushie and you wanted to just curl your arms around him and never let go. Zayne, however, seemed less amused by the situation as he looked over at you finally, seeing your eyes lighting up at his gaze.
The man let out a long, exasperated sigh, “Well, does this satisfy the conditions to your win?” He said, opening his arms a bit so you could see. When he looked at you this time he seemed almost amused with how giddy you were. You knew the man was a pushover when it came to concerns about you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Oh no, you lost fair and square at kitty cards the other day. You’re gonna be stuck like this for a bit, Doctor Panda.” You joked, your hand going over to his fluffy overalls as you played with the soft fabric.
“If I’m not mistaken you were the one who wanted to trade cards about three times during our round, which led to your victory.” He said and you huffed, crossing your arms.
“It’s not my fault you let me.” You had simply used an advantage you called ‘Zayne loves you way too much and will let you cheat at cards, even if it's against him’. It was a viable strategy when playing kitty cards.
“If this is supposed to be a punishment, then why are you wearing the outfit as well?” He asked, noticing how soft you looked at the moment. You pulled the hood up, tilting your head back and forth in a little shimmy shake.
“It’s cute and comfy, obviously. Besides, we never get to match!” You exclaimed as though you were stating the most obvious thing in the world. He looked somewhat amused at your declaration, his hand reaching out to pat the top of your head.
“You do look rather cute like this.” He said, leaning down to be eye level with you. You chuckle, hands going to cup his cheeks and give them a small pinch in response.
“We both look cute like this, mister.” You said, pressing a kiss on his nose, “Absolutely adorable. The cutest.” You claimed, pressing a kiss to his forehead this time, “I wouldn’t mind if you wore this every day, my dear panda.”
Your hands slipped from his cheeks as he began standing up straight, “Well as fun as this is, I think I’d rather get changed now.” Oh no he didn’t.
Your hands found themselves in the thick plush of the overalls, tugging at him so he couldn’t get too far away, “You can’t change yet, you haven’t been in it long enough. Just showing up wearing it isn’t enough.” You whined out, giving the clothes another tug to show your displeasure.
Zayne looked down, his hands cupping your own, his body looming over you as he leaned forward, “You never stated the duration that I’d be in these.” He pointed out. Your lip jutted out in a mock pout as you tightened your grip on him.
“You need to wear them until I’m satisfied.” You declared.
“And when will that be? In an hour? Or perhaps in the morning?” His voice was coming out almost mocking. He had a point though, if he agreed to that then he might be in these well into the afternoon of tomorrow. It was something he would never agree to since he was a logical man at the end of the day.
“Okay fine…then how about a kiss? If you can satisfy me with a kiss then you can get changed.” You finally settled on, knowing those terms were more than acceptable.
“Just a kiss?” He seemed skeptical.
“A good kiss that leaves me in a puddle by the end.” You clarified, knowing he might tease you and give you a soft peck, then call it a day. He let out a small sigh, but the faint upturn of his lips gave away his emotions.
Zayne placed a hand on your chin, tilting your head up while the other hand was planted firmly on your hip. He leaned in, his lips pressing against your own. Your eyes fluttered closed as you relaxed into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.
He leaned down a bit to help you out, dragging you closer until your body was flush against his own. You felt his teeth nip gently at your lip and you happily sighed into the kiss, opening up enough for him to explore your mouth. He tasted like the mint ice cream you two had grabbed before heading back to his apartment earlier.
You let out a small moan as the hand on your hip gently rubbed at you; a shiver ran down the length of your spine. He finally parted from your lips, a small string of saliva that connected you two snapping. You looked up at him with your eyes half lidded, biting your lower lip. You always wanted more when it came to this man. Just one kiss, no matter how good it was, had never been enough.
“Are you satisfied now?” He whispered, his nose bumping against your own. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, then your eyes darted away.
“We might need to try again, just so I can be sure…” You murmured, looking back up at him. His eyes were already darkening from lust and you knew just a bit more would lead you to his room.
“Now, now, aren’t you being a bit greedy?” Zayne asked, raising his eyebrow in question. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he clearly thought you were cute with the small pout on your lips. The glint in his eye was unmistakable, or at least it was to you at this point in your relationship.
Still, despite his teasing, he leaned his head back in and captured your lips once more. The hand on your chin slowly moved down to hold the other side of your waist as your body melded into his. Even through the thick fabrics you could still feel the slight warmth radiating off his body.
This kiss had been sweeter as Zayne took his time to savor the taste of your lips on his. It was serene how he made you feel so safe in his arms. The hands that were around his shoulders went to play with the soft, black hair. Zayne hummed into the kiss, appreciating the small gesture as your hands combed through them leisurely.
After a few moments, he finally parted from you again, although this time he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead, then to your cheeks, and finally on your nose. A giggle bubbled in your chest, escaping in an airy laugh. You looked up at him, a dopey grin spreading on your face.
“Now that you seem satisfied, I think I’ll go change into something more comfortable.” He said, making you remember exactly what you had been doing previously.
“Changing without me? You’re not gonna let me help?” You playfully jeered, your hands slowly coming down until they rested on Zayne’s broad chest. His own hands once again went to cup yours, bringing them both to his mouth as he gently kissed your knuckles.
“I think I’m fully capable of taking off my own clothes.” He said finally, your face falling for a moment at his statement. Despite your need for the man, you wouldn’t press him into anything. You gave a small smile and nodded.
“Alright, if you insist that you don’t need my help, I guess I can let you strip by yourself.” You said with a shrug and he let out a long breath, staring at you for a moment as though trying to decide what he wanted to do.
He seemed to finally settle on something when he spoke, “Although it would be a shame if we were no longer matching, now wouldn’t it?”
“We would still be matching if we were both naked.” You didn’t miss a beat.
He nodded his head as though that actually made sense. He always had that ability to play along with you as though you were spitting facts, despite the nonsense you often spewed. It made you feel…important.
You let out a small squeak of surprise as he cupped your ass, lifting you up. Your legs went to lock around his waist as he began carrying you to his bedroom, “I wouldn’t mind matching you in such a way, as long as you find it agreeable.” He finally settled on as he opened the bedroom door.
“Zayne, if I ever say no to that kind of question, just assume someone kidnapped me and replaced me with a doppelganger.” You said in an overly serious tone. Zayne exhaled through his nose in an attempt at laughing, because lord forbid he ever have a proper belly laugh once in a while.
Still you didn’t fight the fit of giggles, your stomach feeling like a million butterflies were fluttering around with your love for the man. You cupped his cheeks once more, placing feather light kisses all over his face as he carried you over to the bed. You felt more than you saw when he smiled, your lips kissing the corners of his mouth until you pecked them.
The comfortable mattress sank as he set you down gently, the bed creaked slightly under your weight. You decided to be nice and let go of his face, though you wished you wore lipstick as his face would’ve been absolutely littered in marks. Something to save for another day.
“Looking at you like this, I might mistake you for a plushie.” He said, noticing how your hood was still up. You were kicking your feet, smiling at him with a happy glint in your eyes that always seemed to put Zayne in a good mood.
“If I’m a plushie then will you promise to hold me tight and never let go?” You settled on, your tone was anything but seductive. A small blush was blooming on your cheeks with the way he looked down at you.
“I never had any intentions of letting you go in the first place.” His words seemed so final that your breath got caught in your throat.
Zayne began working off his clothes, easily shucking off the overalls and ripping the hoodie off in one quick motion. Normally he was more careful with how he treated clothes when taking them off, but you noted how he seemingly didn’t care about this particular outfit. Strange.
Once Zayne was left in nothing but his underwear; your tongue poking out as you licked your lips, “Damn panda daddy, I forgot how much you were hiding under all that fur.”
Zayne paused, looking over at you and you could see the disappointment in his eyes. It only fueled your amusement, snickering at the expression he made at you. He was always exasperated from your antics, but seeing the hope leaving him never ceased to make you giddy. It was just too beautiful to see the Doctor Zayne get caught off guard.
He didn’t even say anything in response, only changing where he looked when you made grabby hands, “You need to help your plushie.” You cooed happily.
Zayne walked over to you, unclipping the overalls and they fell around your hips. You were beaming the entire time as he made you raise your hips so he could fully pull it off you. You were left in the panda hoodie and your underwear when he placed both hands on either side of your thighs.
“You realize you are not some toy, correct?” He asked, finally lightening up with a smile of his own. You felt the need to crush it once more.
“I mean…I wouldn’t mind if I were your little fuck toy, Doctor Zayne.” You purred.
You watched Zayne’s eyes widen for a moment before he looked away. He took a moment to recover before looking back at you. “A study I read claims that shame can play an important role in social interactions, perhaps one day you should try it.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have let me become so comfortable in your presence then. It’s your fault I have no issue voicing my desires anymore.” You joked, although it did hold truth. Zayne had been very persistent in making sure you were clear with what you wanted from him so he wouldn’t have to second guess everything. You felt like you could tell him literally anything in your head at this point.
Zayne watched as you began lifting up the hoodie, ready to take it off and toss it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor, when his hands stopped you. He leaned down, whispering right in your ear, “Come now, a toy shouldn’t try to do things by themselves.”
You felt a small gasp escape your lips, your cheeks turning scarlet at his words. You had only been half joking about the fuck toy situation, but if he wanted to use your body for his own pleasure, you’d never stop him. You could feel your already wet underwear getting soaked as you squeezed your thighs together. A shiver went down your spine as you went to lay your hand on his chest.
He moved closer to press a kiss to your face before backing up just enough to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your panties. He began pulling them off, satisfied with the string of arousal that was very hard to miss. He threw them over to the pile then took a finger to run through your soaked folds.
Your breath hitched as his thick finger entered your cunt, pressing into your soft heat. You went to roll your hips into his touch, but he was quick to push your upper body down onto the bed. His large hands pushed your hoodie up just enough to expose the underside of your breasts. His eyes glazed over them for a moment before he put his free hand over your stomach, holding you down so you wouldn’t move.
“A good toy doesn’t try to squirm.” Zayne pointed out, making you huff as you tried holding still. Your hands went above your head as you grasped at the fluffy blankets underneath you, trying to do your best to obey him for the time being.
As a reward, he entered another finger into you as he began scissoring the digits to help open you up for the main event later. The lewd squelching sound of your pussy made you flush, your thighs twitching as your instinct was to close them. Still, with the slight curl of his finger hitting your sweet spot had you almost rolling your eyes back in ecstasy.
“Fuck, Zayne, can I move?” You asked, wanting to ride his fingers. He was so good at riling you up, getting you close to coming on his fingers alone.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to be a toy, did you not?” He asked and you whimpered in response, “Good toys just lay there.” Oh he was going to be the death of you. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and you almost regretted putting the offer on the table.
“I’m a new interactive toy.” You finally settled on, hoping he would play along with you.
“And when did toy companies begin producing such bratty models?” His fingers were now pistoning faster in your tight heat, making sure every thrust hit your sweet spot head on.
“Around the time they realized their user base had b-brat tamers.” You managed to say between a strangled moan.
You cried out as his thumb pressed harshly over your clit, “Then perhaps I just need to train this toy so they’re more well behaved.” his thumb rolled in circles over your clit and you were now biting your lip. A familiar warmth settled in your stomach, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice.
“G-good luck.” You chuckled, trying to roll your hips but his hand made it impossible. It was clear that you were going to cum on his terms.
You were so close to becoming a whimpering mess, begging him when he pressed down on your clit again. That was enough for you to topple over the edge, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers. Your pulse was thrumming, the blood rushing all over your body and you could hear a faint ringing as Zayne worked you through your climax.
His motions got softer as you came back down to earth, staring over at his face with a fucked out gaze. He wore that smirk that never ceased to make you go crazy.
“What a good toy.” Zayne commented almost like an afterthought. You watched him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking off your release. You groaned, wanting him to properly fuck you already.
“Will you fuck me now?” You whispered, your voice soft from how relaxed and pliant your entire body felt right now.
“Since my little panda was so obedient, I guess I can give them a reward.” Zayne said as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to you. Your hands immediately found their way to his hair, wanting to tug him closer as his tongue laced with your own. The taste of your own climax was still fresh on him and you couldn’t help the low whine coming from your throat.
His lips left yours, but he was still close enough so when he spoke they grazed against you, “Do you promise to behave?”
“Yes, sir.” You said with a soft cry, wanting to feel his cock splitting you open already.
You watched him stand up, taking off his underwear. His erection stood proudly against his abs, the tip leaking pre and dripping down the shaft. You licked your lips in response, your mind already supplying you with several fantasies of what you want to do with his length
Zayne came over, lifting you up enough for him to slide a pillow under your hips to help you get comfortable. “Are you ready, my little panda?” He teased. You smiled bashfully, nodding your head as he opened up your legs, your glistening folds inviting the man to take whatever he wanted from you.
His cock slowly began sinking into your heat, careful not to go too fast or else he risked hurting you. Still, you were impatient and had to hold back your complaints as he continued driving his dick deeper into your pussy.
After a few short thrusts, his cock was almost completely in you. You felt the stinging stretch of his monstrous length as it filled you up to the point of almost breaking. You took a few sharp breaths, relaxing around his girth. You went to roll your hips once you had grown accustomed to him, but his hand pressed down on your stomach again to stop you.
“I thought you said you’d behave?” He said and you whined in response, glancing up at him. He had a concentrated look on his face, trying not to cum just from entering you. He always tried to coax an orgasm out of you, but sometimes the way you sucked him in made him want to burst in an instant.
“I will…” You finally say and he nodded, giving an experimental roll of his hips. You let out a breathy gasp, enjoying how his girth managed to hit every single spot in you without trying. It was like he was made for you.
He chuckled, repeating the motion before speaking, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a panda make a noise like this.”
You weren’t thinking when you spoke, already cock drunk. “You’re fucking other pandas?” It wasn’t until the words left you that you had to take a second and think over your inner dialogue options.
Zayne didn’t move and you chanced to look at him, seeing him shaking his head. “It’s not too late for me to pull out and go to bed, is it?” He murmured and you let out a cry at his words.
You locked your ankles around his back, hooking him into place inside of you. Your hands trailing over his biceps as you gave them a small squeeze, “Noooooo, don’t leave me like this. I’m sorry, I said it without thinking.”
Zayne let out a heavy, almost burdened sigh, “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.” Despite his words, he did grind back into you, making you mewl in delight. The small giggle that was stuck in your throat turned into pants as he began rocking his hips to a steady tempo.
“Zayne…” You managed to rasp out. He hummed, letting you know he could hear you, “You’re holding back still.” You knew he wasn’t fully inside of you judging by how his hips never met your own.
“I simply don’t want to break my new toy, is that so wrong?” He grunted, never letting up the gentle pace he had set.
“It’s fine if you break me; you’re a doctor after all. You can put me back together.” You said.
“Doesn’t this little panda work tomorrow?” He said, hips stopping as he looked down at you, wanting you to confirm his suspicions.
“I’ll be fine…please?” You begged him, pouting as you looked at your loving boyfriend. He pondered for a moment if he’d regret his decision, then shook his head.
“If that’s what you wish.” He finally said. You were about to celebrate when a surprised squeal came out of your mouth. He had taken your legs that were locked behind him, pressing them so they laid against your chest. He had you in the perfect mating press as he looked down at you with hungry eyes.
His hips rutted into your tight hole, getting deeper with every rock until you could feel the head pressing against your cervix. You opened your mouth in a garbled whine, closing your eyes as you took in the feeling. You were already so damn close just from his dick being fully settled inside of you.
Then he set a brutal pace, jackhammering his cock into your cunt like a man running out of time. The noises escaping you couldn’t be distinguished, his name a slur on your lips as stars began entering your vision. It was just too damn good, your entire body spasming with twitches as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.
You squeezed his arms, your nails digging into the flesh to help ground yourself. It didn’t help much as he helped you reach new peaks, his dick being the only thing on your mind as your eyes rolled back.
The delicious friction of his pelvis against your swollen bud was what set you off. Your body clenched around him as heat spread under your skin. The ringing in your ears came back ten fold and your vision blurred into white. Your entire body spasming with your release as your hoarse voice called his name like a prayer.
You could faintly hear Zayne’s voice over the ringing, “So good, doing such a good job for me, my angel.” He groaned, pressing open mouth kisses along the column of your neck. You were slowly coming back down when you felt his length leaving you.
Your eyes looked over, watching as Zayne’s hand engulfed his length, gliding over the shaft before his milky release began splattering on your stomach and right over your overstimulated pussy. You were trembling still as you felt the liquid hitting your overheated skin.
Once he was spent, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours, looking you in the eyes, “How are you?” His voice was like silk, gently pulling you back down to him. His clean hand moved some hair that had gotten into your face as he pressed a kiss to your nose, waiting patiently.
“Never been better.” You said, still in a bit of a daze.
“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asked, noticing how your aching legs began falling to his sides. You hummed in thought, a hand going to cup his cheek and you smiled.
“Not at all.” You said with a small laugh. Zayne smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before going to stand.
“I’ll be right back, you wait right here.” He said, looking you over once more before leaving the room.
He didn’t leave you for long, soon coming back in, this time with underwear on. He held a glass of water in one hand, and a warm, wet towel in the other. He approached you on the bedside, setting the glass down and moving in with the towel to clean up your combined spend.
You winced as the towel went to clean your folds and Zayne glanced up at you, “I did warn you about this outcome.” He scolded and you rolled your eyes.
“It’s worth it…it’s always worth it.” You fought back, not ever giving in that you might’ve made a slight miscalculation. How you’d be able to run around at work tomorrow was a mystery. You debated calling out, after all it was insanely easy for you to get a doctor’s note to explain your absence.
“You’re insatiable.” he said, finishing up between your legs. He handed you a glass of water, eyeing you as you took a small sip. Once you realized it was perfectly chilled you let the water run down your throat, enjoying how soothing it felt. You didn’t realize how scratched your throat had gotten until that moment.
Once you finished you handed him back the cup, “Thank you very much, Doctor Panda.” You teased.
“Doctor Panda?” He asked incredulously.
“Yes, sir.”
“Remind me to be more careful to not lose a bet with you.” He said as he went to lay in the bed, pulling you along with him. Your head rested on his chest as you looked up at him.
“I dunno, my ideas do tend to lead to fun outcomes.” You pointed out.
“I assure you, all you need to do is ask and you shall receive.” He informed you with an amused glint in his eyes.
“I’ll remember that for future reference…I love you, Zayne.” You said, letting the sap take over after your passionate tryst.
“Love you too, my little panda.”
#loveanddeepspace#love and deepspace#Zayne Love and Deepspace#Lnds#Lnds Zayne#lnds x reader#x reader#reader insert#zayne x reader#l&ds#l&ds zayne#l&ds zayne x reader#lads x reader#lads zayne#lads zayne x reader
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500 word no name COD Challenge by @the-californicationist
Linen and Lace
MDNI | teasing, lingerie, public
You had bought a nice new dress after the text, and accompanying bank deposit, came in. He had told you buy yourself something nice; he was taking you out on the town promptly at seven. He had been gone for weeks so it was a nice surprise and you had been giddy all day waiting.
Drinks and dancing had been been the start of the evening before he holed you both up in a corner booth at the small restaurant. Away from prying eyes but not totally secluded either.
You feel the blood rush to your core when he whispers in your ear how he couldn't wait to slip the little black number off you later while the waiter refills your waters. This was how he liked to play; to tease and rile you up when there was nothing you could do about it.
"Jittery lovey?" He asks quietly as you flinch when his fingers graze over your thigh. He had been giving you light teasing touches all evening but this was the first time he had ventured up your skirt. "We haven't even started the main course."
"You're killing me," you say around your wine glass and he just smirks and slides his fingers even higher. But you get the last laugh on that one when he finds the lacy garter and he runs his index finger between it and your skin. The near silent groan that leaves his lips makes you laugh, not so unflappable like he carried himself.
"What color is it?" He asks simply as the waiter drops your meals.
"Blue, your favorite shade," you answer light, smiling at the waiter as he sprinkles fresh parmesan over the dishes.
"Take it off and show me," he says under his breath as he thanks the waiter and dismisses him with a polite nod.
"What, now?" You ask cutting your eyes over to him and the dark look he gives you tells you he isn't joking. Or waiting.
This wasn't the first time he had asked you to do this in public, but it still gave you a thrill every time.
Leaning back a bit in your seat you spread your legs a bit wider, glad for the floor length linen tablecloth, before grabbing his hand to guide him to hike your dress higher. He follows easily, his warm palm resting on the soft exposed skin before you wriggle a bit more to hook the lace on your left leg and slide it down. The lace catches on your heel as you try to move as little as possible before you ball it in your fist and hand it to him.
He's brash with it. Setting it on the table where anyone can see to look it over like a trophy. The blue was the exact dark shade he preferred, with hints of crimson in the stitching and silver of initials embroidered in it; his initials. His smiles at you for a moment before his fingers curl around it and he tucks it inside his fitted suit jacket.
"Now the panties, if you think you can manage it without them seeing," he grins nodding his head lightly at the couple just a few feet away peering not so subtly at you both.
"Who said I was wearing panties?" You ask smartly as you pluck up a roll.
The side eye he gives you tells you that you aren't making it to dessert. At least not the dessert the restaurant served.
#cali’s nameless challenge#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#cod fanfic#cod#my fic#fanfiction#fanfic#reader x anonymous#you x anoymous
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As Long As We're Together (G/T Homelander x Reader)
2538 words. Hurt/comfort and fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.
Your anniversary gift exchange doesn't go exactly as planned.
Made as part of the Cozy Corner Domaystic event put together by @cozycornerevents, using prompt #11 "unexpected gifts" and prompt #29 "peace offering".
It's officially been a month since you and Homelander started dating. Your relationship is still under wraps from the spying eyes at Vought, so the two of you can't celebrate your anniversary publicly. But that won't stop you both from having a special day.
As his personal assistant, you're trailing behind him on the set for 'Dawn of The Seven', making sure he has his lines ready. It's been a pretty busy shoot, and the two of you have not had much time to yourselves.
Eventually, there's a lull in between filming. You're following him as usual, flipping through the script to keep a strict tab on the upcoming scenes, but you are confused when he suddenly halts right in front of his trailer. Looking up at him, you can see a sly grin accompanying a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Come inside for a second," he smirks, bending down at the waist to whisper into your ear. "I have a surprise for you."
"I can't honey," you mention, pulling your phone out of your pocket and tapping the screen to bring up the current time. "I need to head back to the Tower in 15 minutes, I have a meeting with your marketing team."
Leaning back up to his full height, Homelander stares down at you in disbelief. You so nonchalantly took the ground right out from under him; he wasn't expecting any resistance, especially not on your anniversary. The day he confessed his love for you.
"N-no… no. No. Blow them off, come on," he stutters with a shaky smile, doing his best to regain his composure. "Come."
"I really can't stay," you divulge. "It'll take me at least 10 minutes to make it to the Tower and to the meeting room. Can this wait until I get back?"
Your words cut through him like a knife. All he wanted to do was to prove his devotion to you, and you're refusing him this chance. Your schedules have both been so chaotic today and he doesn't want to wait any longer for his surprise, definitely not until the evening when you're both off work.
"P-please," he mumbles quietly, his voice barely sounding audible. He can't let you leave, not yet.
Despite Homelander standing a menacing eight feet tall and you only reaching his abs, he could not seem any more small to you right now. All you see is a dejected puppy with big glassy eyes, so desperate for a scrap of your undivided attention. With a sigh, you walk up to him and reach for one of his large hands, squeezing your palm around the leather of his glove.
"This won't take longer than 5 minutes?" you ask.
"Of course not," he exclaims with a toothy grin. Your simple question is enough to wash away his fears and recapture his giddy childlike energy from moments ago. "Trust me, you'll love this."
Leading you to the trailer, he opens the door to let you in first so he can watch you spot his gift on the table. Your gasp fills him elation, ravishing in the way your body chemistry changes with delight. Carefully, you climb onto one of the oversized chairs in the dining area to get a closer look at what he got for you.
In the middle of the table is a perfectly designed bouquet, composed of a red rose heart nestled in a cloud of baby's breath. Tucked in between the flowers is a note card, wishing you a happy anniversary. Homelander even signed it himself, with a little heart doodle for you alongside his name.
"Oh hun," you exhale, bringing the flower vase closer to examine them. "These are so beautiful."
As he studies your reaction, he is perplexed as to why you appear to be blinking away tears. Are you upset at his gift? He thought this was a proper anniversary present; in every romantic movie he's ever seen the gentleman always brings his special someone a bouquet of flowers.
"Is something wrong?" he ponders, kneeling down so he can be at your eye-level. You can't help but smile at his face right next to yours, and the dread in his expression over making you cry.
"No, no…" you sniffle as you dry your eyes. "I'm just… I'm just happy. Nobody's ever gotten me flowers before."
"Thank you Homelander," you state, cupping his cheeks right before kissing him. Nearly instantly, he closes his eyes and exhales deeply through his nose as he melts into your affection. He leans more into your lips, softly keening as he chases after the genuine love that he's been searching for his entire life. Your palms petting his face have him entirely enraptured, and the noises of the movie set are long gone from his ears. Right now he feels like he's in heaven with the gentleness of your fingers running along his skin. His massive frame has practically encompassed yours with how close he's getting, but you don't mind. It's something you cherish, letting him forget his size around you.
When you pull away from your kiss, you can see how pleased he is just by the serene sparkles in his blue eyes. He has one hand placed on the back of your chair while the other is resting on your lap, taking up the length of your both your thighs.
"I have to get going now," you remark while you look up at the Vought-branded clock on the trailer wall. Sadly, your five minutes are up. "But I'll be back in an hour."
"Promise you'll come back as soon as you're done?" he asks, furrowing his brows slightly. He's so proud of himself for his gift, and he hates that he has to cut his time with you short now that he's received your gratitude.
"I promise," you respond, giving him one last quick kiss before stepping out of the trailer. You wave him goodbye as you head off, unaware that he is standing solemnly at the window as he continues to watch you with his X-Ray vision even after you've left the movie set.
~~~
You end up running a bit longer than you expected, and are confounded to find that when you finally return to the movie set, Homelander is not there. Ashley tells you that he flew off from the set an hour ago without a word. But you know there's only a few places he'd run off too, and take a taxi back to Vought Tower. As you thought, you find him in his penthouse living room, staring out the window with his arms crossed behind his back. You find it a bit odd when he doesn't acknowledge you, but you enter the room anyway.
"Hey sweetie, there you are! I couldn't find you on the set," you call out cheerily, carrying a small package in your arms. "Why'd you leave?"
"You lied to me," he answers in a blunt tone.
"…What?" you utter, confused to his change in mood.
"You. Lied," he retorts sharply, cutting you off before you can infuriate him any further. He slowly turns around to advance towards you, until you are forced to crane your head straight up to see his scowling face.
"I went by the Tower, to see how your meeting went," he clarifies as he looms his expansive stature over you. "No one had seen you. You were never there."
" Well, I-" you start to say.
"You promised," he snarls, baring his teeth. "You promised me you were different. You promised that you loved me. But you don't. You don't love me. You lied, just like everyone else."
His eyes are wild with fire, not from his lasers but from the torrent of antagonism swarming his mind. He sat alone in his trailer, expecting your return. He waited and waited, until the ticking of the clock and the ringing of his ears became too much for him to handle. He sought solace in his secret companion, his reflection, who was swift to manipulate his anxieties in order to turn him against you.
Throughout your relationship, you've come to understand that Homelander values honesty above anything else. He detests when people lie to him, even moreso when they lie to save themselves from his wrath. You have never lied to him before… until today.
On your anniversary.
Why should he have expected anything less from a human, his reflection goads him. You left him alone, with the present he so thoughtfully picked out for you, going who knows where and doing who knows what. Your kind can't be relied on, not after everything humans have done to him.
You broke his trust, and now he is out for your blood. He is a god that demands sacrifice.
Regardless of his rage, you know he really isn't going to hurt you. Gazing into his furious eyes, you can still discern the lonely little boy buried deep within his psyche. His face is twitching because he's overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. He's mad at you because you made him worry. He's upset because you disappeared; he's scared because he thought he was going to lose you. And you know you that the only way to quell his ire is with the truth.
"Homelander, just… just listen please," you breathe, cautiously planning out your next words as he stares daggers straight through your being. But he does not interrupt, and waits for you to continue.
"Today is our anniversary. This is a momentous event for the both of us," you explain, fiddling with the package tucked into your arm. "I was trying to think of the perfect gift for you, especially when you already have everything. I just… I wanted to get you something special. From the heart… Here."
You lift the box up for him, which he rips from your hands with a scoff. He can't see how a stupid present would somehow make up for what he perceives to be the ultimate betrayal of his trust. However, his irritation at your gesture evaporates the second he lifts the flaps up.
Inside is a small teddy bear, with scruffy and well loved brown fur that smells so intoxicating. It smells like you.
Totally and wholly you.
The box falls unceremoniously from his hands so he can hold onto the plush toy, running his fingers along its pelt. It's so miniscule in his grasp, practically engulfed by his fingers, and yet it feels so much larger. At this moment, it feels like the only thing in the world that matters.
"That was my bear when I was a kid," you detail to him. "I slept with it every night, it meant the world to me. I had to call in some favours to have it taken out of my hometown storage and shipped so fast."
"And now I want you to have it," you smile, walking up to him to place your hand on his thigh. "I know you didn't get to have much of a childhood, so I thought you could share mine."
Whatever anger Homelander was holding onto has completely drained from his body, filling the void with intense sadness. He can't believe he so easily let his reflection turn him against you, when you didn't even do anything. This resentment he felt was for nothing, you were never plotting some nefarious human scheme against him. Instead, you were just at the post office, retrieving your teddy bear for him.
Ever since he's known you, you have always put him first. Nobody has ever treated him with as much care and love as you have.
And now he's blown it.
The tears begin to flow freely down his cheeks as he grapples with his guilt. The constriction in his chest twists a spike deeper into his heart, fearful of what is coming next. You're going to break up with him, he just knows it. You're going to realize he isn't the big tough superhero he claims to be; you'll see him for the insecure child that he really is. Any minute now, the words are coming out of your mouth. It's over, I'm leaving, I hate you, I-
"Hey, hey. It's okay, baby boy, " you say, watching as he spirals deeper into panic. Luckily, your hands pressing into his padded suit are enough to refocus his attention. When his distressed eyes turn down to your face, you spread your arms wide to signal your intentions. "Can you pick me up please?"
With a tense swallow Homelander lifts you up with one arm, holding you close to his chest. Although he does his best to not address you, he can't fight nuzzling into your hands when you start caressing his cheeks. You touch him like he's made of bone china, so delicately, that he can't help pursuing after your affection no matter how upset he feels.
"I am so, so sorry that I lied to you," you console him, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. "I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted this to be a nice surprise, like the flowers you got me."
"S-sorry… s-s-sorry," he whispers timidly as he buries his face into your shoulder in an attempt to hide from his growing shame. However, you don't let him wallow in his irrational worries.
"Sweetpea, you don't have to apologize," you reassure him. "You're entitled to your feelings too, you shouldn't beat yourself up about that."
He doesn't know how to respond to that. During his youth he was never been given any level of autonomy over himself; he was created to serve Vought, so his emotions came second. They always came second, a trivial afterthought to the importance of what he represented to the company. And yet, here you are reminding him of his humanity, of what he had taken from him. You give him encouragement that he is more than just 'The Homelander, leader of The Seven'. Deep down, your words help the isolated little boy see the light shining through his abusive upbringing. He does matter.
"Happy anniversary Homelander," you declare, hugging his big head still snuggled heavily on your shoulder. You comb your fingers through his undercut as you feel him sink further into you. "I know this one might not have gone as well as we hoped, but I know our two month anniversary will be perfect."
"P-promise?" he mutters in a hushed tone, almost as if he's trying to hide his faith in you from his reflection, whom he is concerned might be listening.
"I promise," you assert, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. "From the bottom of my heart, you and I will get through anything as long as we're together."
"T-together…" you hear him mouth weakly to himself. It's a word he's never really thought about before, but hearing it out loud brings a whole new meaning to his life. He's not alone anymore, like he was growing up in the lab. He doesn't have to face his demons all on his own. Now he has you.
And no matter what the world brings, the two of you will always be facing it side by side… together.
#the boys#the boys tv#homelander#homelander x reader#g/t#size difference#my writing#cozy corner domaystic#shamelessly rewriting the scene where homelander gave stormfront flowers#and it's the longest fic i've written lmao
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Hey doll! I love the way you write Frank so much! You nail his sexy tough guy attitude and the way he speaks, as well as his caring side who's a softy teddy bear for his girl. 🥰
Not sure if this would fall under a headcanon or request for a drabble, but this idea keeps popping in my head and thought you'd be great to write it... What if you're with Frank, but you finally meet Karen and/or Madani (who are just friends with Frank) They are gorgeous women who seem to have some sort of history with him, and suddenly you feel super self-conscious, unworthy, or jealous...? Comparing yourself to her/them. Frank being a *man* may not get what's happening with you at first? How would he react when he realizes? If you'd like to run with that in any way, I'd LOVE to see it! Because Oof I love angsty Frank Castle... 🫠🖤
Oooooo I love this! Thank you so much for the suggestion!
How Boyfriend!Frank Would Respond to You Being Jealous of Karen
"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" Frank asks, eyes still on the road.
"Nothing, just tired," you lie, choosing isolation instead of confrontation. The truth felt too mortifying anyway.
"Nah, that's not it," he replies, somehow like an order, and you know the issue won't resolve on it's own because Frank won't let it.
"Frank, it's nothing. If it were something I would tell you," you lie with maybe a little too much desperate pleading in your voice. A silent scream to please just drop it.
"Yeah, like when you were starvin' yourself. Like that time sweetheart?" he asks, sarcasm coloring every word.
"That's not.... come on... it's not like..." you fumble for words but come up with nothing because it was sort of exactly like that.
It had felt monumental but you were trying so hard to play it cool at first. Frank was introducing you to Karen. THE Karen. The Karen who was like one of five people Frank really trusted and adored and thought of as family. He kept a tight-night circle and protected the hell outta them and you were equal parts giddy and anxious to finally be introduced to someone so close to him. This was a milestone in your relationship and you were desperate for Karen to like you.
And by all accounts, it went great! Karen was warm and wonderful and it was obvious why she meant a great deal to Frank. And that would be good if she weren't also alarmingly stunning-- all angles and golden hair and clear blue eyes that seemed to bore into Frank and anticipate his moves and needs as if they had a lifetime of history between them. Which they did-- one you weren't a part of and couldn't dare amount to.
And intellectually, you knew this was good for Frank -- to have such a nurturing relationship with someone after having suffered so much loss. And intellectually, you knew that their bond wasn't based on romance but in deep mutual care and respect. And intellectually, you knew Frank loved and adored YOU-- proudly and happily.
But emotionally, you just... couldn't shake it. That insurmountable feeling of inferiority. You're no Karen -- all poise and grace and stunning intellect. You felt shrunk in her presence, suddenly so keenly aware of the caliber of woman Frank kept close. Maybe you were a fraud. Maybe you'd managed to fool Frank all along and this meeting with Karen would bring the reality-- the reality of YOU-- slamming into clear focus.
"I see the way you're pickin' at your fingernails. Don't tell me it's nothin' sweetheart," he responds, maybe some anger in his tone but you knew concern was what had him so persistent.
You shove your hands under your thighs to stop from picking and let out a long sigh. Your head drops low as you contemplate how to navigate the conversation.
"I'm not Karen," you say plainly.
"Yeah no shit," he scoffs.
You gulp and nod, tears pricking at your eyes at his confirmation. "So then... we don't have to.... Listen, I get it if tonight was eye-opening. It was for me. I would understand," you respond.
"Understand what doll?" has asks, his brows stitched in confusion as he ventures a quick glance to the passenger seat.
"Understand if you feel like, I dunno, you have regrets or something," you stutter out.
He pauses, his eyes scanning the road before he checks his rear view and pulls over to the shoulder, puts the truck in park and smashes his finger into the button to turn on the hazards.
"Frank what are--" you start but you're cut off.
"You mind tellin' me what exactly I'd be having regrets about?" he asks, shifting in his chair to face you.
"Well... you know..." you answer, gesturing sort of vaguely at yourself.
"No, I don't think I do know. Why don't you be specific," he says unblinking, his eyes bored into yours, feeling like you were on the other end of an interrogation.
"About me, Frank. I'm not like her. Not even close. Like, she's so damn perfect and you guys together are so-" you blurt out, stopping yourself before you regretted it.
"So wrong, sweetheart. Karen and I are wrong together. I don't love her, not like that at least," he answers with conviction.
"But-" your sputter.
"But what? You gonna tell me how I feel now?" he retorts, raising his brows in question.
"Well no but the way you two are.... it's just special. And she's so, just so gorgeous and kind and..." you reply, your sentence fizzling into the air like mist as his brows furrow again.
He shakes his head at your reply and huffs air out of his nose before reaching across to your seat belt and unlatching it, tugging you across the seat of the truck cab and firmly into his lap. Two calloused hands land on either side of your face and his warm brown eyes scan your face as he brushes a stray hair from your forehead.
"We gotta get you glasses sweetheart," he murmurs.
You contort your face in confusion, muttering "what are you talking about Frank?"
"Cuz you don't see what I see," he answers and you roll your eyes a little at his dad joke.
"I don't think they make glasses like that," you joke back, but the complicated feelings were still stuck, their little grippers dug deep into your feelings.
"Nah I mean it. You really don't see it and that's a problem," he adds, your face flashing to him in concern before he continues, "that I'll consider my duty to solve."
"Unless you're a licensed therapist, you may regret that," you reply flatly. His hands leave your face to land on your hips and he tugs you an inch closer, your chest pressed to his.
"Then I'll happily die tryin' doll," he replies, using a hand to nudge your chin up and meet your eyes again. He plants a tender kiss on your lips then another and another and another until he feels you melt a fraction in his arms.
You pull away for a moment, lip gloss smudged on your face and his, pupils already blown as you feel the pads of his fingers sink into your fleshy hips and you say, "You kisses are no match for my cripplingly low self esteem."
At this he barks out a laugh and responds, "Well fuck sweetheart, I'll guess we'll have try more than kisses then huh?"
#frank castle#frank castle x reader#frank castle fanfiction#frank castle x you#frank castle fanfic#frank castle smut#frank castle x y/n#frank castle fluff#frank castle x anxious reader#frank castle x jealous reader
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Wedding Bells
Our Story Masterlist
Summary: Harry and YN finally say “I do!”,
It was the night before the big day. The day that YN and Harry finally say “I do!”. Wanting to keep the ceremony very intimate, only inviting close family and friends, the couple decide they would get married in a small wedding venue that was tucked away in the countryside of Yorkshire.
Harry had been whisked away from his soon to be bride, by the men but Louis stayed by his sister’s side for the evening. The two siblings were sat together on the balcony of YN’s room, silence surrounded them as they enjoyed a moment a quiet after a busy day.
Louis eyed up his sister as she sat in her “bride” robe, her now large bump poking out, her hand that held her engagement ring stroking back and forth where the little Styles grew. “Any nerves Tiny?”.
She glanced over at Louis, who was still sipping on his bottle of beer from earlier on in the evening. “No…nothing…I’m actually excited”.
“I suppose that’s when you know you’ve found true love!”. He thought out loud, knowing his sister was lucky to find that type of love when she was young.
“Good thing we didn’t listen to you ey?”. YN tried to break the serious of the conversation, earning a smirk from Louis.
“I was so annoyed…and now look we’re sat here on the night before your wedding!”. Louis reached over to hold her hand in comfort.
“You’re the best brother…you know that don’t you?”. YN could feel the tears rise from within her chest, the moment making her emotional.
“Of fookin’ course!”. Louis sassily pretended to flip his hair over his shoulder. “Now less about me and let’s get you into bed before I have the girls pestering me about you needing your sleep”.
---
YN couldn’t believe how her evening had gone from calm and quiet, to the next morning being chaotic. Her room was filled with every person possible, her makeup artist and hairstylist were being put to work. Louis had left once he could see the chaos about to start, but not before whispering “it’s all about you today Tiny” in her ear and placing a brotherly kiss on her cheek.
After what felt like hours, YN stood in front her bridal party that included all his sisters and breaking tradition, Louis too. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful bride before!”. Anne was the first to speak, as she wrapped her arm around Louis who was gulping down his tears.
YN wore a flattering white grown, that showed of her bump elegantly as it flowed down her body and left a small trail behind her. Her face was covered in light make up, giving her a natural look to her pregnancy glow. Her hair was placed in a low up do with a slight curl framing her face.
“You look absolutely breathtaking!” Lottie complimented as she dabbed her eye with a tissue, careful not to smudge her own makeup.
“I hope Harry’s got some tissues ready…’cause he’s definitely going to need some!”. Louis caused the whole room to laugh as he all held their tissues ready.
A knock at the door disturbed them as they all looked at Mark who wore a smoke. “It’s time for a wedding!”.
YN couldn’t help but feel giddy knowing that within the next hour she would get to call Harry her husband and she would be Mrs Styles, no longer sharing a last name with her siblings. The thought caused an internal meltdown in her head.
“Tiny? What’s wrong?”. Louis was the last person to leave the room before YN. He hurried to her side.
“I won’t have the same last name as you or the girls anymore”. YN’s concern was real, her bottom lip quivering slightly.
Louis couldn’t get but let out a little chuckle. “YN…your last name may change today…but you’ll always be a Tomlinson in there.” He gestured to her heart.
“How do you always know what to say?”. She asked as she pulled herself together again, not wanting to walk down the aisle with tear marks.
“Stop procrastinating…you have a man waiting to marry you!”. Louis playfully moved YN closer to the door.
---
The sound of ‘Ocean Eyes’ by Billie Eilish sang through the room, as YN and her father stood at the double doors. YN couldn’t help but smile as she watched Daisy walk down the aisle first with Doris and Ernest, both holding her hand as they smiled at everyone the walked passed.
Next, Phoebe walked carefully behind, Olive in her arms wearing a beautiful ivory flower girl dress as she sat in her mother’s arms. The newborn caused the other guests to ‘awe’ at her cuteness.
Lottie and Lucky trailed behind the others, but the little toddler caused some laughter as he tried to run down the aisle.
Louis and Freddie were the last ones to walk down the aisle before YN. The bond they shared really showed as they both wore the same smile and how Freddie gave Harry a fist pump before he found his chair.
“Are you ready darling?”. YN heard her father as he held open his arm for her. His smile matching hers as he got ready to give his first daughter away.
“I think I’ve been ready for the last twelve years”. YN marched his smile as she spoke true words. She looped her arm through his and they both took their first steps down the aisle.
As she takes her steps down the aisle, she couldn’t help but notice all the familiar faces that had come to celebrate her and Harry today. The people she will always be grateful for.
She spotted Sarah, Mitch and the other members of the love band all sat in a row together. But causing her to smile and let out a giggle was Pauli mouthing the words “saucy” to her. These were the group of people who she got to call family for the last few years.
Next, she spotted Harry’s uncle, auntie and cousins, all smiling brightly back at her as they officially welcome her to be a part of their family.
The next three faces that all say together was a pinch me moment for YN. There sat Niall, Liam and Zayn, all of them amused by her jaw dropping expression that she quickly covered up. The three boys that took her on like a sister since she was sixteen, the ones who she caused chaos with on tour, the three people who always showed up for her.
Before setting eyes on her grandparents and siblings, three empty seats reserved for special people caught her eye and it was in that moment that reality hit her, her Mum wouldn’t see her marry the love of her life. But catching Anne’s eye brought her some comfort as she mouthed “I love you” to her as she wiped her tears.
As they reached the bottom of the aisle, she was face to face with Harry who was wiping away his tears at the sight of his bride. “You look so beautiful…you literally took my breath away”. He whispered as Mark placed YN’s hand in his. Louis took his place next to YN whilst Gemma remained by Harry’s side.
“Friends and family, we have come here today at the invitation of Harry and YN to share in the joy of their wedding”.
Harry and YN couldn’t help but get lost in each others eyes as the registrar spoke. They both felt like young teenagers again, as they let out childish smiles and giggles.
---
“The bride and groom have written their own vows and wish to read them…YN..you may begin”. The registrar instructed as he looked between the couple.
“Harry…I could stand here all day and list everything I love about you. But I think everyone in this room has already heard it a million times. From the moment I met you, I knew deep down you were the one. You taught me how to love myself, you showed me love on a different level, you have been there by my side through all the good and bad times and I will always love you for that. Harry you are my best friend, my soulmate and I can’t wait to call you my husband and the father to our children. This is our forever and always”.
YN took a deep breath and smiled up at Harry, as he used his knuckle to wipe his eye before the tear escaped. “I love you”.
“Harry…you may now read your vows”. The man instructed.
“YN…whilst you come across as sassy, strong willed and a bit of a potty mouth, what others don’t always see is your loving, caring and kindhearted side. I’ve been lucky to see that side of you for the last twelve years and I can’t wait to see it for the rest of my life. You’re the most beautiful, strong and determined woman I’ve ever met and I love you for it. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime and as much as I can’t wait to call you my wife, I’m even more excited for us to be Mum and Dad. I love you forever and always!”.
The guests let out a cheer as the couple finished their vows, causing the pair to go giddy with a coy smiles.
“Do you Harry Edward Styles take YN Olivia Tomlinson be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”.
“I do!”. Harry gave a boy-ish smile to his bride, one that showed his dimples as he placed the wedding band on her finger above her engagement ring.
“Do you YN Olivia Tomlinson take Harry Edward Styles be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”.
Without hesitation, a large grin shinning through that caused her eyes to sparkle, YN spoke the words Harry had longed to hear. “I do!”. She carefully pushed the band along his finger.
They both beamed at eachother as they waited for the famous next line.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife…Harry you may now kiss your bride!”.
Having been deprived of each others touch and presence since the night before, Harry wasted no time reaching for her cheek to bring their lips together. YN could feel them both smile against the others lips as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. Their guests cheered and clapped as they watched on in happiness.
---
The reception area was decorated in fairy lights and Polaroid photos of YN and Harry were hung around the room, dating back from when they first met.
Harry and YN were sat on the top table, with Louis and her grandparents next to YN and Gemma, Anne and Des next to Harry. The newlyweds were in their own bubble as they huddled together, whispering in each others ears and stealing quick kisses.
With the guest all full from their three course meal and itching to get on the dance floor, Gemma rose from her chair as she was given a microphone to speak.
“Hello everyone…I’m Gemma and as the Best Woman I’d like to say a few words”. She glanced at Harry, before speaking again. “Harry…my baby brother who followed me around is married. For everyone who knows my brother, will know how amazing he is…he’s selfless, warm hearted and one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet. When I say I’m proud of you Harry, it doesn’t justify how proud I am…watching you grow from a little boy to a grown man has been an absolute pleasure. I love you baby brother!”. The guests all clapped as Gemma took a breath. “I will be honest…growing up I always believed there would be no one good enough for Harry…but the day I found out that YN had won my brother over, is the day I changed my mind. I’ve never met two people who are meant for each other, and as much as I would like to say welcome to the family YN…I think it’s safe to say you spend more time at my Mum’s than I do”. The joke caused a sea of laughter from the guests but also YN as she did spend a lot of time at Anne’s. “In seriousness…I wish you all the happiness as your family grows and I love you both!”.
Everyone lifts their drinks in a cheers and in agreement of Gemma’s words. Louis takes this as his cue to stand.
“‘Elle everyone…I’m Louis and YN has decided to be different and instead of having a Maid of Honour…she’s got me a Maid of Man…I know it’s exactly what I was thinking!��. Louis made the rook laugh at his attempt of a joke, only causing YN to playfully tap his arm. “For those who know us Tomlinson, you’ll know we’re a large family…I was an only child until YN was born. The day my first baby sister was born, was the day I met my best friend for life…from kids to adults we are inseparable and I wouldn’t have it any other way. YN…you’re a married woman with a baby on the way but you’ll always be my little sister and I love you more than you know”. YN wiped away her tears as Harry gently rubbed his hand along her back in comfort. “Harry…you’re my best friend and when I first learnt that you and YN were a thing…I was skeptical and went into big brother mode…but with some wild old words from Grandad Len here…I saw sense…and over the last twelve years I’ve watched your love for my sister grow…you have cared and supported her and our family though some dark times and I will always be grateful to you…but most importantly you’re the only person who could put up with YN’s pregnancy hormones because I’ve never seen something change so quickly!”. Louis’ sense of humour took a hit with the guest as they all shared a giggle, as Harry nodded in agreement. “But I wish you all the best in your long married life and your future together…YN…Harry…we love you!”.
“To YN and Harry!”.
---
Between her pregnancy bladder and large wedding gown, YN had spent the last twenty minutes with the help from Lottie in the ladies bathroom. But as she exited she was pleasantly surprised to see all the guest mingling.
She stood for a few moments of searching the room, she spotted her husband in the corner chatting away. YN made a bee line for him, not wanting to be away from him a minute longer than she needed to be.
YN slid up to Harry’s side, and naturally his arm draped around her waist as he pulled her closer to him. The couple shared a quick peck as they reunited.
“Well someone fookin’ pinch me but I swear I see One Direction standing in front of me”. YN couldn’t help but tease as the five boys all stood together.
“You never change do you babe? Still our number one fan”. Zayn laughed as his eyes scrunched slightly and his tongue poked through his teeth.
“I’m loyal Zayn…can’t say the same for you lot…eighteen months you said”. The boys knew YN was teasing but it didn’t stop them all from giving each other a side eye. “So is my wedding present a performance?”.
When the boys looked between each other but remained silent, YN broke the silence. “Well it was a try…I’ll have to get this little peanut to nag you when she’s here…you’re not going to say no to your daughter or niece are you?”.
“YN…it’s your wedding day…you’re not surely still going to talk about One Direction?”. Liam laughed as he noticed Harry give him a look of not to say a word.
“Exactly Liam…it’s my wedding day and I want One Direction to perform”. YN said with sass as she flicked her hip out and placed her hand on it.
“God I love you aye….don't ever change!”. Niall only encouraged YN’s behaviour, Harry could only assume it was because their friendship was so strong.
”On that note…I’m going to find Lottie again because this little bubba is sitting on me bladder again”. YN hurried off after placing another peck on Harry’s lips.
“And just think lad….you’ll have a mini YN running around soon!”. Louis playfully tapped Harry on the shoulder, causing the other boys to laugh at Harry’s wide eyes.
---
“Ladies and gentlemen…please welcome Mr and Mrs Styles to the dance floor for their first dance!”.
The newlyweds walked hand in hand to the dance floor, smiles beaming at eachother as wrapped his arms around her waist and YN’s reached up to wrapped around his neck.
When she gets that come-get-me look in her eyes
Well, it kinda scares me
The way that she drives me wild
And she drives me wild
They gently danced across the floor, both too busy wrapped up in each other to notice their family and friends watching on in awe, some videoing the special moment whilst others stood their and lived in the moment.
Beautiful, crazy
She can't help but amaze me
The way that she dances
Ain't afraid to take chances
And wears her heart on her sleeve
Yeah, she's crazy
But her crazy's beautiful to me
As Harry had his head resting near YN’s ear, he sang the words to her causing a shy smile to land her lips. After waiting twelve years, they were finally a married couple with their baby girl on the way and life couldn’t be better.
“I love you Mr Styles!”.
“I love you Mrs Styles!”.
Tag List:
@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994
#harry styles x reader#harry styles#harry styles x y/n#harrystyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfic#harry styles series#harry styles writing#one direction#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x tomlinson!reader#harry styles x oc#harry x reader#harry x yn#harry x y/n#harry x you#harry styles fic#harry styles series masterlist#harry styles masterlist#harry styles imagines#harry styles imagine#louis tomlinson#niall horan#zayn malik#liam payne#harry 1d#one direction imagine#one direction fanfiction#tomlinson!yn
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Me at the start of Challengers: oh, she pegs him.
bro the fact that i’ve been sitting on this ask for DAYS bc i just keeping nodding and zoning out instead of writing a response 😝
but DEFINITELY 10000% yes to art getting pegged on the reg. i wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the one who initiated it most of the time? like every other instances when he’s horny, he would start it off with “babe i need you…” which earns a casual “oh, you wanna fuck?” he tilts his head, that puppy dog eyes in full power, and he bites his lower lip, “i need you… inside me.”
and i know we all wanna see him bend over like the pathetic bitch boy that he is, i know. but i feel like he likes it best in missionary? you would tell him “lie back on the bed” in that soft but firm tone, and he nearly giggles in giddiness. you’re such a fucking sight, kneeling before him, stroking the strap-on with lube like it’s your real dick, lining it up against his hole. “shh shh shh, relax… open up for me, baby,” and he swears he nearly comes right on the spot. he would look at you with the dopiest heart eyes as he rambles, cock-drunk, “i love you so much baby… wanna be yours forever. all yours.”
#I haven’t felt dommy in like a year but this man awakened smth in me#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#challengers fic#ask ava#ava writes
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baptism anon @ it again. wanted to come back and say i know i said racist undertones but they aren’t exactly UNDERtones there were several times I read something and physically recoiled … also yeah every time i read what you say in response to my asks i giggle and kick my feet emotionally because you GET IT. im reading lonely place of dying next so will send you my thoughts…
also wanted to say yeah i agree on the cane user jason truther thing. and from someone who has had lifelong chronic pain i think the idea of him going from being a happy go lucky kid to being brutally murdered and having all that shit happen to him and then getting dragged back to life only to live in pain and trauma is. interesting (and by that i mean i am shaking like a wet chihuahua)
and on a last note… i have this headcanon that lazarus pits HURT. like hell. i mean you’re being forcibly dragged back to life and i think especially if you had been dead for a while prior to everything, but even if you were killed and thrown in there a few minutes later. not sure why i think this? i think i read a fic where a character was put through it and it reduced them to just sort of sobbing in pain and thrashing like a wounded animal and. i know that isn’t CANON but I think it’s sooooo much more fucked up like that and im a fucked up shit enjoyer. so. thoughts on being revived being incredibly physically painful in and of itself, not even counting the aftermath?
anon you have ME all giddy and kicking my feet giggling when you send asks!!!!
you had me rereading a death in the family AND a lonely place of dying yesterday... and yeah, yikes. unfortunately racism is a common theme for batman comics in general, especially the further back you go. the content of those comics will only get more jarring the longer they've been published.
i 100% agree with the sentiment of jason going from being a 'happy-go-lucky' kid, to brutally dying, and coming back through trials and tribulations, only then forced to live in pain arguably worse. defying the odds, but at what cost???? i can so see how he'd resent it, and even feel an amount of hatred for his circumstances.
i LOVE the idea of resurrection via lazarus pits being an excruciating process.. in hbo titans (i know we all have mixed opinions on it... throw rotten tomatoes at me or something) they explore a similar-ish concept. the resurrection itself is something the victim actually has to fight for (unknowingly), and they're put through trials of their worst memories and fears, having to combat through the mental and physical anguish to be successfully revived, or the resurrection fails and they never emerge from the pit.
i think i enjoy that concept more than the pit causing aimless pain, although i do also think the aftermath of revival should be painful, but in a different way, like a full-body sensation of a wound in it's first stage of healing. almost like they've been revived with a completely new body, one fresh to the world and unfamiliar, it needs breaking in, in order to begin feeling comfortable to live in. and in the meantime, EVERYTHING is going to hurt.
similar to a butterfly in a chrysalis, the fight for new beginnings (revival) is a task in itself, and an act of metamorphosis (the trials causing both mental and physical anguish).
etc etc. that's how i imagine resurrection via lazarus pit to be.
#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i love this#asks#baptism anon#!!!!!!!!#lazarus pit#jason todd#dc comics#dcu#dc#red hood#under the red hood#a death in the family#gothihop speaks
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Warning inane ramble incoming, it’ll probably be annoying I apologize. (*_ _)人
I spent the last several days reading every post here. I managed to convince myself to start liking some (sorry about that I’m sure it was annoying to get all those notifications) I have this weird thing where I get nervous about liking older posts cuz I mean it’s been a long time and it’s unprompted so that’s weird right? It feels weird like I’m doing something wrong or I’m being annoying, I considered reblogging too but somehow that felt worse? Sorry I am not good with social rules they confuse me both on and offline Idk my brain is wrong and I’m just a nervous socially anxious snail. (＞﹏＜)
Anyways just wanted to gush about how much I love it here and I’m never leaving (´꒳`) ♡ First and foremost Yniol has a special place in my heart they will forever be my favorite bestie (*＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾*), yes I am biased as my partner is grey and though they don’t play IFs they were thrilled to learn about your character! Also your writing is just phenomenal, your fans are fun and creative, your characters give such warm and positive energy I love them so much they’re perfect, the inclusivity is such chefs kiss ( ´ з `) 🤌🏻✨, the angst is delicious, the fluff is so sweet and comforting, the spice is ... very blush-worthy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). This has been a journey I laughed, I cried, I giggled, and I blushed and I have enjoyed every bit of it from pasta discourse to Moldien cult wars to Arthur bunnies, I’ve had the most wonderful time. Now my mind is gonna be filled with Arthurian stuff for months my maladaptive daydreaming is having the time of its life I have a road trip next week and I’m so looking forward to just staring out a window for 6+hours while my Hound's just alternating daydream adventures with the cast o(≧▽≦)o. Also speaking of your amazingly wonderful, sweet, and supportive cast I have decided my (though I love them all) favorite poly pairings are Arthur/Morien and whole crew polycule I’d sell my soul for those but I 100% understand why you can’t really do that. I don’t think I have the endurance in me to code a single poly no matter how much I wish it so the fact you’re doing any let alone several is just god tier you are awe inspiring.
Alas I have rambled far far to much I wish I could be more eloquent in expressing just how much I enjoyed experiencing all of this but for now this is the best I can do (╥ω╥). Thank you for sharing your wonderful work it’s truly a gift to experience. ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧ I wish you wealth, health, and all the best in all your creative endeavors. -🐌
No, please please do not apologize. You made my entire week <3 This ask is straight up going into the folder where i keep my motivation to write and to be just a little proud of my work, thank you so so much for sending it.
For anyone having the same thoughts about liking or reblogging old posts: please do it. When I see the notifications, get very giddy and pleased, and I hope you are enjoying the food. Liking, and especially reblogging things, even more so if you add tags and reactons, not only fills me with glee but it also reminds me of old asks that I want to reblog again for new followers. So yeah, I love it, please feel free to go on a liking/reblogging spree!
You are so relatable for the maladaptive daydreaming (this game was absolutely born out of my own mental movies), I wish I could speed up the writing and editing for the next update so you can read it while you travel but I'm afraid it's a lost cause (I have been working on things, even now, but I am currently rewriting like half of it and while it is way better it takes sooo much time and energy). Knowing my characters and story are in someone's thoughts it the best kind of reward I need. I will never likely monetise this game, so this is the thing I wish to leave people with, and I hope the characters can be comforting and keep you company <3
You have no idea how much I would love to write the full polycule... maybe one day :,) But don't lose hope for the Arthur/Morien poly yet, as I decided to cancel the Gwyar/Morien poly and now I have a potentially free slot. In any case, awww, please know that this ask made me so happy today and will be in my thoughts as tkh is in yours.
Please have a lovely day and a lovely week and also a very lovely trip! Thank you again so so much!!
#lovely adorable anons#also never apologize for sening asks in anon i understand#i do the same#(anxiety)#love you!!#anon love
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Going to 100% finish my Billy Thoroughfare series first, but now I have a rockstar!billy au in my head, where reader goes to one of his concerts, only bc her best friend got her a ticket so she wouldn't have to go alone, as well as backstage passes, & when they go back there, reader just stands off to the side & Billy is all:
"You want an autograph, sweetheart?"
"No, thank you."
"What, you don't like my music? Don't tell me you're an Air Supply girl."
"I didn't say that."
"You're not sayin' much of anything. Come all this way and you didn't even enjoy the show? I gotta make it up to you somehow." He winks.
She's just kind of quiet, not wanting to argue. So he comes over & ofc acts the male chauvinist: "Quiet, that's alright. I like that in a woman." Then, "Out of pictures, but I can sign somethin' else, if that's more your speed."
"That's really generous, but I'm not interested."
He can tell he's getting under her skin & is just enjoying every second of it. Then, "Alright. I'll get off your case. When you give me your number. Probably not every day you have the lead singer of a rock band that sold out Chicago Stadium asking for that, huh?"
She rolls her eyes.
He ofc wants it on his hand as an excuse to have her touch him.
Once she's finished writing it, he looks to her friend over his shoulder, who clearly has the hots for him, & he goes: "You two live together in an apartment, or somethin'?"
She's giddy that he's simply talking to her: "Yes!"
"You got a landline, then? What's the number?"
She gives it to him.
Then, "Looks like you gave me a bogus number, sugar. Guess we need to turn that zero into a six."
She just gives her friend a death-glare.
He calls her occasionally, eventually leaves her tickets for one of his shows, even pays her airfare, cabfare, lodging, etc just to see her.
It's the middle of the 80s, so there'd ofc be drugs and other sleezy rockstars, lots of good music, parties, etc.
Like, among one of the first times he calls, he could be all:
"We're playing at Madison Square Garden soon. I could leave you a ticket at the gate. Front row seat. What'd'ya think?"
"I think I could never afford to get there."
"Then I pay your way there, doll. The plane, cabs," she can hear the smirk in his voice. "You won't have to worry about lodgings. You can come stay in my suite with me. Penthouse. You know how many girls would kill for an opportunity like this?"
"I do. I'm just not one of them."
A beat of silence. "You know... You're starting to hurt my feelings."
She sighs, getting annoyed.
"I really want to see you again. Just...let me make that happen, baby."
Idk, what do ya'll think?
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Hello!! Hello!! I have no question, I'm so sorry! I want to wish you a happy day/night!!! Also please drink water for any aches and pains you may have!!!
YOUR ART IS GORGEOUS!!!! So wonderful and you are so very amazing and talented and!!!- Ahh you invoke so much joy!!! I hope you know I am complimenting you, i am singing your praises yes!!! I am wishing you all of the happiness!! You deserve and should have all of it mhm!!!
You deserve to be proud of yourself and your creations!! (Forgive my English, I'm not the best haha)
I'm super late responding to this but omg thank u you're such a sweet person
and you know what! I actually needed to drink water so this was a much needed reminder, lol
have a danny and raph doodle in return :]
#everyone on this site is so nice dude i cant handle it#i get so giddy every time i get an ask like this#gah my heart#rottmnt raph#mutant manhunt au#rottmnt dastardly danny#asks open#my art
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aghh you write so good sunsun! i want to say it again 💐
-🎀
awwww darling you are the absolute sweetest 🥹🫶🏼 thank u sm for ur support teehee mwah mwah
#🎀#ask#every time i remember i have nicknamed anons i get so giddy like u chose to stay here??? EVEN WHEN IM A MESS???? AWWWWWW SMOOCHES U
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Having a crush on a cute waiter dude from a restaurant I frequently go to is making me sick! Sick I say!!
#peeps rambles#me having a crush? i could never.#jk but like I literally get so giddy every time when me and my mom decide to go eat there somedays and he always says hi to us :)#that man is making feel 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭#and just note I have not spoken one word to this man‼️ who normally talks to my mom in Spanish and just having little conversations#but this man as literally asked about me multiple times so I’m like I’m being delusional or what???#he’s cute :)
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Could I be added to the jisung footbal au fic if it's still open ? P.s I love this fic sm so far !! :))
i’m so happy that you’re enjoying the smau, i’ll try to keep it entertaining :DDD and i’ll add you to the tag list thank you for the ask!
#asks.#( score that goal! )#every time one of you says you’re enjoying the smau i just get so giddy like
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the pro
part ii: what we're willing to accept
Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.
Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.
Length: 4.8K
Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex
Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.
That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.
It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.
You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—
I don’t want you to get bored.
It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.
Art Donaldson.
You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.
“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.
You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.
“We’ll start with the basics.”
--
Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.
Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”
On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.
You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.
But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.
--
“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”
Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.
“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.
“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”
He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”
He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.
“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”
“Lily?”
A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”
“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.
“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”��
“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”
“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”
“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”
“...He seems to be pretty busy.”
“He is.”
“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”
“Play tennis.”
He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.
“It shows, you know,” He says.
“What do you mean?”
“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”
You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.
“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.
“Just good?” He plies.
“The best. A real pro.”
His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.
The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.
“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”
“She’s killing it.”
You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.
“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.
“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”
“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.
“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—
“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”
“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”
You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.
“Maybe.”
--
You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.
His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.
When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.
--
Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.
He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.
It spurs you to lunge a little too far.
The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.
“What hurts?”
“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.
“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”
For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.
When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.
You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”
“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.
“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”
“I'm still going, don't worry about that."
“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”
Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.
“Of course.”
--
“How’s the ankle?”
It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.
You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.
“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”
“Good enough to walk on?”
Hardly.
“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.
“I have,” You insist, “All day.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes.”
“You can tell him no, you know.”
Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?
You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.
--
I invited Art.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.
Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.
It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.
You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.
“Almost ready in here?” He asks.
“All set!”
--
He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.
You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.
The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.
You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—
Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.
You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.
“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.
“Wanted to come say hi.”
“Well. Hi.”
You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.
“Thanks for the invite.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.
“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.
“He isn’t taking care of you.”
“My ankle is fine.”
“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.
Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.
“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”
He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.
You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.
“Condom?” He asks.
“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.
“Art.”
“Sssh.”
“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.
“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”
“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”
“Art—”
“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”
“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.
“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”
Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.
“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from your still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.
--
“Can I see you?”
It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.
“You just saw me,” You remind him.
“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.
“Where?”
“I’ll send an address.”
You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.
“...You regret it?” He asks.
“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.
“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.
--
You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.
“Is this Lily?” You ask.
“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”
“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”
Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.
“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.
“Art?”
“Yeah?”
“Why am I here?”
He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.
“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”
Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”
“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”
--
When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.
And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.
--
"What time is he home tonight?"
You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.
But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.
"I don't know," You admit. "Late."
"...Could stay."
"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."
Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.
"This isn't going to be easy, is it."
"What?"
"Letting you go every day."
"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."
He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"
You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.
"Not when I want it, too."
part ii: what we're willing to accept
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