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stylesharrys · 3 months

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All That You Are | Part 1 [Mafiarry]

Y/N is thrown into her new life as Harry’s wife, and Harry has to learn and prepare himself to take over the New York Famiglia.

A/N: grab yourself some snacks and get comfy cos you're in for a long ride! I really hope you guys love this series like I do <3 p.s. this used to be an OC fic, I have edited to make it reader instead, so if you come across any certain descriptions of the readers hair colour, skin etc. let me know as they were all supposed to be edited out!

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, sexual themes, mentions of r*pe, swearing, arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drug use

WC: 19.5k

Her tears have dried, though they still threaten to spill from her eyes. Eighteen is supposed to mean a party and your first sip of alcohol for a woman of the mafia.

Not for Y/N.

It’s an engagement party and her final social activity as a free woman. As if she could ever have been considered free. Women are never free. Only free for men to fuck and abuse whenever they please.

Y/N has never liked parties and she doesn’t exactly like people, either. Well, the only parties she’s ever attended are those of strict rules and professionalism and, maybe, being locked away your whole life does that to someone; makes you socially awkward and nervous in the presence of boys.

She shivers at the thought of a boy even noticing her, and now she’s engaged to the most attractive Made Man she’s ever heard of.

Her mother stands behind her, stern face and dressed in a tight lavender dress. She zips up Y/N’s cream dress and admires it in the mirror for a moment.

It’s form-fitting, small ruffles across the waist and it ends a few inches above her knees. It’s the most daring and revealing dress Y/N has ever worn, and it bubbles nerves and excitement within her.

Gaia gazes at her through the mirror with a distant look in her eyes. She can remember when she was Y/N’s age, married off to Giovanni. She can remember the fear and terror that consumed her body… that still does.

Y/N frowns. “Are you okay, Mother?”

It’s meant to come out much louder than it does. She sounds like a frail child. She is. Gaia snaps out of her trance and plasters on a smile, but it’s the same smile she uses after Giovanni finishes beating her. It doesn’t sit well in her daughter's stomach.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, figlia,” she tells her.

Y/N keeps her back to her and continues to admire the dress in the tall mirror. At least she’ll look pretty. Gaia brushes the top of her shoulders and twirls her curled locks around her finger.

“Behave tonight. This is more than just an engagement party. We can’t have Stefano changing his mind.” She warns.

She isn’t thinking about the heartache and pain Y/N will have to endure, she’s thinking about the countless nights that Giovanni will abuse her if this wedding doesn’t happen. Y/N nods her head, nerves bubbling in her stomach.

In thirty minutes, she’ll be surrounded by strangers as they judge and prod her. In thirty minutes, she’ll be meeting her future husband; one of the youngest, most dangerous Made Men in New York.

She’s known for two months now, since she got home from school and Giovanni broke the news. She spent the night fighting, sobbing and kicking and begging him not to throw her away like that. Begged for him not to hand her over to a man of such power, who will beat and hurt and abuse her.

Though when she thinks about it, it’s not much different from her current home life. She gave up fighting after he beat her bloody and blue. Her lip is still swollen from it and a soft bruise is hidden under her eye.

It’s lucky Gaia knows how to apply makeup. Y/N supposes she’s had enough bruises and scars of her own to hide over the years.

She thinks she should consider herself lucky, really. Most girls in Y/N’s position never even meet their husbands before their wedding day. At least she will have an entire night to find out who her sick father has chosen and have three years to prepare herself. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

Her eyes meet Gaia’s in the mirror. She hopes to find a hint of sadness in them, a flicker of guilt that she’s allowing her husband to do such a thing to their daughter. Y/N can’t hate her, no matter how much she tries. Gaia doesn’t have a choice in the matter. This is business between her father and the New York Famiglia. She’ll only get a black eye and a bollocking if she tries to intervene.

“Where’s Bruno?” Y/N asks softly, voice hoarse from the way she cried herself to sleep the night before.

She hasn’t seen her brother in almost a week, and she’s beginning to wonder if he’s actually going to show up at the party tonight. She needs his support—not that he’ll ever really offer any. He’s too far up Giovanni’s ass.

Bruno Saccaro is his father's son. Dirty, loyal and merciless. He’s only three years older than Y/N, but every inch of his black heart serves for one thing only.

Murder.

He was initiated at thirteen, just two days after his first kill, where he tortured and maimed a man twice his age before stabbing him in the side of the head with his beloved knife. He’s sick, just like Giovanni.

Though when they were children, he was her protector, the second he took his first kill, he became blood-hungry and protecting his baby sister was at the bottom of his list of priorities. Y/N’s sure she isn’t even on the list anymore. The only thing Bruno cares about is pussy and the Famiglia. She wouldn’t be surprised if Bruno was the one that suggested marrying her off in the first place.

“Business,” Gaia responds. “He’ll be at the party later, don’t worry.” She must sense her discomfort, but even her words don’t soothe her.

Y/N can’t imagine what her brother will be like at the party. Will no doubt have his cock buried in some girl within the first ten minutes. The thought makes her heave. He’s not the brother she used to have. He’s just like their father now.

A soft tap on the door breaks Y/N from her daze and Maria pops her head through the crack in the door. Short pink hair is the first thing she sees and a relieved smile breaks onto her face.

Maria Saccaro. Y/N’s first and only cousin, barely three weeks younger than her and the only descendent of Romero Saccaro, Giovanni’s younger brother and Y/N’s Uncle.

“Auntie Gaia, can I have a moment with Y/N, please?” She asks softly, like butter wouldn’t melt on that pierced tongue of hers.

Y/N almost rolls her eyes at the girl. Her bright pink hair gives away everything anyone needs to know. Maria doesn’t obey rules, she breaks them and finds loopholes just to piss her father off.

Y/N remembers one night when they were ten, when Maria told her she purposely did stupid shit in hopes of giving her father a heart attack so he’d finally die. Six years later and she’s still unsuccessful. Though, Y/N did hear that her Uncle Romero has to watch his cholesterol. Maybe her cousin's insolence is finally paying off.

Gaia hums and leaves the room, not sparing a second glance at her niece, keeping the door ajar and Maria rolls her eyes, flouncing down onto the chaise lounge.

“God, your Mom is such a drip,” she scoffs.

Y/N stifles a laugh and stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother may be good at makeup but nothing will ever cover up the insecurity in her eyes and three weeks of sleep deprivation under them.

Y/N shakes her head and turns to her cousin. “What did Uncle Romero say about your hair?” she asks, concern swimming in her eyes and Maria lifts her bangs from her face.

There’s a thick purple bruise across her temple and an angry line of stitching down the centre of it. Y/N gasps, hand covering her mouth with wide eyes. Maria shakes her hand in dismissal.

“He clubbed me with his fucking ashtray,” she sighs. “The look on his face was totally worth it, though,” she tries to break out in a grin but Y/N sees right through it.

Maria may act like she doesn’t give a shit, but really, she’s just as scared of her father as Y/N is of hers.

Romero Saccaro, Consigliere to his older brother, Giovanni, and widowed father to Maria. He’s been married twice already in his lifetime. His first wife was killed by his own hands and his second by suicide.

Maria could never blame her Mother for taking the easy way out. She often contemplates it herself. It’s a surprise that he hasn’t tried to marry Maria off yet to form an alliance. Though perhaps it’s for the best that no one has tried. She’s too temperamental, too disobedient. Her husband would get tired of her and give her back.

When an arranged marriage occurs, the husband is promised a beautiful, unscathed wife. While Maria is incredibly beautiful and just as much of a virgin as Y/N, she’s also gobby and dominant. She fights back, and that kind of attitude will get her killed. Maybe Romero does care for his daughter after all. Or maybe his ego is too big for his daughter to ruin.

“Can’t believe you’re meeting your future husband today. Happy fucking birthday,” she mutters out, words laced with venom.

Y/N sighs, shoulders sagging as the nerves come back with full force. “He’s worse than Father. Harry Dellucci kills for fun. At least Father waits until he has good reason to murder somebody… not that it makes it any better,” she mumbles.

Maria stares at her cousin with an incredulous look. “Uncle Giovanni is a fifty-year-old fuck-tard with bigger tits than me,” she begins, trying not to laugh at Y/N’s grimace. “Harry Styles-Dellucci is a twenty-two-year-old God, with a body of a God, the voice of a God-“

“Okay, I get it. He’s God-like,” Y/N cuts her off through a burst of laughter, cheeks flushed and Maria howls that maniacal laugh with her.

“Who’s God-like?” A thick, northern voice booms through their laughter and the room falls silent.

Y/N jumps in her skin out of fear, shrivels into herself as she turns on her feet. A tall, brown-haired man stands before them, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips in a cynical yet playful manner and Y/N’s heart plummets to her knees.

In all of his 6 foot glory, Harry Styles-Dellucci stands tall, thick body clad in a typical oxford suit and Y/N gulps at the hard sight of him.

Harry eyes his future bride. Soft hair curled and twisted into an elegant updo, gentle makeup on her brazen features, but the look in her eyes screams terror. She’s tiny. He knew she was only eighteen, but God, he hoped she’d be somewhat of a woman already. But she isn’t, she’s a child, and Harry struggles to keep that smirk on his lips.

She’s a child.

Mike stands beside him, eyes focused on Maria and her bright pink hair. She catches his intense gaze, the flirtatious smirk on his lips that screams mischief and she blushes, returning the look with false confidence.

Though she may try, even Maria is a blushing mess in the presence of mafia men. No amount of hair dye and secret piercings in the world can ever change that.

“Does Uncle Giovanni know you’re up here?” Maria quips and Harry turns to her, brows raised.

He knows who she is, who all of Y/N’s family and her tiny group of socialites are. He did his homework. He takes in her pink hair, the attitude in her eyes and the way she pops her hip out with a hand resting on it. Definitely the troublemaker.

“Giovanni sent me up here. I want to be alone with my fiancée for a moment before the celebrations begin,” he tells her.

God, his voice drips sex and the sound of it alone has both fear and comfort setting in Y/N’s stomach, and an unrelenting pulsing between her legs. She knows that feeling all too well, though she’ll never admit to it.

Y/N bites back a gasp and clears her throat. Harry watches her nervously twiddling her thumbs. “Is that even allowed? You’re not married yet.” Maria reminds him.

And thank God, Harry thinks to himself. She’s just a child.

“Maria, it’s okay. If Father sent him up, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a little while,” she nods to her cousin but Maria doesn’t want to leave her alone with the notorious Made Man and his right-hand man.

Harry notices her hesitancy.

“Mikey, why don’t you escort Maria downstairs.” His eyes never leave Y/N as he speaks in a slow, dulcet tone, but her eyes remain glued to the floor. Goosebumps break out onto her skin, but she isn’t cold.

Mike silently escorts the young girl out and closes the door behind him, leaving the soon-to-be couple alone. Harry squints at her. She’s curled into herself, fear dripping off her body in waves.

He takes a tentative step toward her, hands in his pockets and retrieves a small velvet box. Harry opens it and offers it to the girl.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers.

With arms around her middle, Y/N finally looks up at him and his breath is lodged in his throat. She’s beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. Bright eyes and soft, gentle skin that he wants nothing more than to caress. If she’s this gorgeous now, Harry can’t comprehend what she’ll be like in three years time.

Being so up close, he sees her properly. The perfect slope of her nose, the sparkle in her distant eyes. He can see the sparse dotting of freckles across her nose and cheeks beneath the thin layer of makeup, the twitch in the arch of her shaped brows, the fullness of her painted lips.

Y/N takes the box from him slowly. The golden band stares right back at her, a thick diamond sitting in the centre and she lets out a shaky breath.

“It’s beautiful,” she forces herself to mutter out but Harry can see she’s trying to bite back a sob.

It is beautiful… but it’s plain, generic. A wedding ring should be personal, should mean something. Harry takes it from the box and gently reaches for her hand. Her skin is warm, even softer than it looks and his lips twitch. Y/N purses her lips. His fingers are rough and cold as he slides the ring onto her finger and just like that, she’s his.

The ring hangs heavy on her hand. A golden cage. She bites back another cry.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, hands close to her chest again and Harry tilts his head.

He can read her body like a book and he’s only known her for a few moments. There’s fear in the way she holds herself, but now her eyes are void of emotion, like she’s suddenly completely coming to terms with what will happen. Like she’s accepted it — like she’s empty.

Y/N looks back down to her feet and a strand of beautifully curled hair falls into her face. Harry reaches to brush it back, wonders if it’s also as soft as it looks, but she flinches back and he stills. Harry frowns. What has Giovanni done to the girl?

“Y/N,” he speaks softly, regarding the girl with a tone he’s only ever shown to his mother and sister.

The sound of her name slipping from his lips has her peering up at him, crystal eyes boring into his emerald ones and his heart leaps.

So fucking beautiful.

He reaches a hand against her face again and caresses her warm cheek. She flushes under his touch but doesn’t flinch away.

“Are you scared of me?” He asks.

Y/N gulps and lets out a shaky breath. “You’re a Made Man. You kill and you torture. Of course, I’m afraid of you,” she breathes and it’s the first proper sentence she’s directly said to him… that she’s afraid.

Harry remains quiet, letting himself revel in the sound of her voice. Silky soft, just like her skin and hair.

He dips his face down so he’s level with her. Even with her four-inch heels, he still towers above her, Y/N’s eyes level with his clavicle.

“I kill and torture those who deserve it, those who betray me,” he tells her. “But you are going to be my wife, Y/N. And fear has no place in a marriage.”

She dares to gaze up at him, his face stoic as she notices the sparse hairs that coat his chin and upper lip and she wishes she could read what he’s thinking, like he can read her. Her eyes are dazzling up at him, thick and dark lashes fluttering beneath the thin coating of mascara on them.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“I’ve never not been afraid,” she admits and she isn’t sure why she’s telling him.

What if he uses the knowledge to prey on her? What if he laughs in her face? She doesn’t know why she tells him, but the bubbling in the pit of her stomach stops when she does. The confession burns something in the pit of Harry’s stomach and it’s only now that he notices the subtle discolouration beneath her left eye.

Bruises.

His thumb brushes over the soft skin and she shudders, tries to shy away but he keeps her head in place.

“He won’t hurt you anymore.”

Harry’s cocky smirk is gone as he peers down at her, a promising glint in his eyes and she’s never heard anything so tender and honest. She wants to believe him, that he won’t hurt her anymore. But she isn’t Harry’s wife yet, so Giovanni still has free reign over what he does to his daughter, no matter what Harry tries to promise.

Y/N nods her head and takes a step back. She avoids his gaze and Harry knows she doesn’t believe him. The wedding isn’t for another three years. Three years of being under Giovanni’s hold and dreading the day they’re bound for life.

He never asked for this marriage either, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make his wife’s life a living hell. He’s seen the pain and torture Stefano inflicts on his Mother and in early years, on his sister too, and he’d rather be slaughtered than to inflict that same pain on another so undeserving.

He always promised himself that whether he marries for love or for the Famiglia, he’ll never lay a hand on his wife. Never do anything to hurt her.

Harry wishes to change many things when he becomes Capo, but what men do to their wives can never be one of them. Once married, the woman becomes the man’s possession, and not even a Capo dei Capi can decide what husbands do to their wives. Willing or not.

Y/N doesn’t say anything on the matter though, she knows how it works and she’s too couped up in her own thoughts. She doesn’t want to argue back, so she bites her tongue and remains silent.

She doesn’t want to be one of those submissive housewives that keeps a nice house and their husband's bed warm. She doesn't want to be silent like her Mother. But she has to be realistic, and in her unfortunate luck, she’ll never be able to marry for love. She'll never have the freedom of going anywhere without a guard, or have a job or go to college. She'll never make friends with women her age, or go clubbing and sleep around a little.

She’s his possession.

Her life was signed away the day she was born. Hell, Giovanni started seeking eligible husbands when she was still in the womb, it didn’t matter that they were already in their 20’s at the time. She’s considering herself lucky that Harry is only four years older than her.

She’s come to terms with it. Of never being able to make any decisions for herself. Of never having freedom. Of never feeling loved or safe. She’s spent her whole life in denial, hoping, praying that a fairytale Prince would crash into her life and sweep her off her feet, take her away from the mafia and the pain. She’s always known better, but maybe now it’s only just sunk in.

She glances back down at the golden cage on her finger. A beautiful ring to bind her to a lifetime of misery.

“Our fathers think it’s best if we arrive together.” His rugged voice cuts through the silence again.

Y/N clears her throat and nods her head, patting down the soft material of her dress and it clings to her body even tighter than before. Harry stifles a groan at the sight of her round hips and straightens his back. The longer he watches her, the less childlike she looks.

He offers his hand to her, palm outstretched and Y/N gawks at it like it’s from another planet. His fingers are adorned with intricately styled rings and he almost forgets she’s probably never held a man’s hand before.

He’ll be her first everything and the thought alone makes him twitch in excitement. She takes his warm hand with a hidden blush on her cheeks.

When they arrive at the doors, all eyes are on him and her. Hushed whispers echo through the ballroom, talk of her beauty and how he’s going to corrupt and break her. Harry smirks at the attention, he always has been one for the spotlight, but Y/N cowers into herself.

Her grip on his hand becomes tighter but she doesn’t notice it. Harry doesn’t say anything.

He tightens his hold on hers just enough for the reassurance she needs. Harry leads them both into the ballroom, soft music playing from the little string quartet in the corner and it looks like a fairytale wedding.

But it’s not.

It’s a forced engagement party for an arranged marriage that she doesn’t have a choice in. Harry had the choice of who he could marry, he wasn’t going to complain about the situation when she wasn’t given the same.

The party consists of uncomfortable dancing, heavy alcohol and Y/N and Harry’s families subtly digging at the other. She’s been tucked under his heavy arm for over an hour, a third glass of champagne in her hand and she bravely ignores the warning look on Giovanni’s face.

He told her before the party she was allowed two glasses at most. She knows what happens when she disobeys him, yet she finds herself finishing the third glass and reaching for a fourth.

Harry notices, too. He squeezes her hip each time she finishes a glass. It’s not a warning, nor a recommendation to stop. It’s a reminder of what Giovanni will do if she continues. It’s his way of trying to protect her while he can’t just yet. She ignores it, nonetheless. Maybe a good beating might make her feel a little more alive.

As his cousins leave their side, she lets out a deep breath and her shoulders relax with her exhale. Before Harry can say anything else, a broad figure is making its way over and he feels Y/N stiffen beside him again.

He reaches down for her hand, their fingers bumping and he loops his pinkie finger around hers. The touch doesn’t go unnoticed by the guest as he holds his hand out for Harry to shake.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” his gruff voice speaks and Y/N peers up through her lashes.

Dante Vitiello, The Boss.

People quaked in Harry’s presence, but in Dante’s? There were hardly any survivors. He’s a ruthless killer, initiated at the age of 11 after he killed a man with his bare hands. Y/N supposes that’s where he got his nickname from; Dante ‘The Vice’ Vitiello. She shudders under his gaze. She doesn’t know the man, only the stories that brave souls dared to chatter.

But Harry… Harry knows Dante. He trained with him when he was younger and they both thought themselves as friendly colleagues, a few stressed nights often sharing one another's company in Harry’s club, surrounded by a few women that they tended to pass around.

They had a bond, one Harry knew would always secure his position as future Capo and Dante always knew Harry would come through. Then there’s that one thing they both have in common; a mutual hatred for the fucked system their ancestors put in place; arranged marriages, the presentation of the sheets, disrespecting women.

Harry thanks him as Dante addresses Y/N, palm barely open as he offers a soft hold. She takes his hand and Dante brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. He can feel her body stiffen further but it’s tradition. He drops her hand gently and she curls closer to Harry again. Even in the mere hours of knowing him, she seeks comfort in his embrace.

Harry says nothing.

Dante doesn’t look back at her. Though she appears much older than just eighteen, he’s nearing thirty and the last thing he wants is to make her even more uncomfortable. Besides, he remembers how he felt when the last Boss kissed his fiancée’s hand and eyed her up like a piece of meat, all those years ago.

“I’m sure Stefano and Giovanni will talk to you later about the arrangement but I’d like to let you know in advance,” Dante begins.

His accent is much thicker since the last time Harry saw him. He’s a typical Italian man. Tall and broad, dark hair, structured face and a well-maintained stubble.

“The wedding is set for October 16th…” he turns to Y/N, “... two weeks after your twenty-first birthday. The wedding will be here, again, and after the formalities and traditions, the next day you’ll both go back to New York.” All three wince at the sugar-coated mention of the bloody sheets but Y/N is the only one that makes it known.

She zones out after that, too caught in her own thoughts. Harry’s attractive, undeniably, but it doesn’t make the idea of having to sleep with him on their wedding night any easier.

Maybe if he was a family friend that she grew up with and was forced to marry, it wouldn’t be so bad. She’d have that bond of trust and familiarity with him, but that’s not the case. She doesn’t know him, therefore she can’t trust him. Every man in her life has beaten and abused her. Every man apart from Gomez.

Her eyes flutter across the hall in search of him. Now that she’s thought of him, she doesn’t remember seeing him since he came with her to the Saccaro Mansion. She searches and searches until she finds him standing off to the side, hands folded in front of him.

His dark blond hair is swept back in a formal quiff and his suit is tight on his body. Y/N doesn’t shudder when she looks at him, instead, she finds a sense of relief and safety wash over her.

Antonio Gomez has been by her side since she was born. He was Giovanni’s right-hand man when he first became Capo and was trusted with the job of protecting his little baby girl when she was born.

Gomez was only twenty when he was trusted with her life and had vowed to himself to always protect her. She still remembers the first time Giovanni hit her. She was five and had dropped her water on the rug.

She remembers the sting of her Father’s hand across her chubby face and the way Gomez ran for him, pinned him against the wall. But she remembers the sound of Giovanni’s gun exploding as he put a bullet in Gomez’ thigh as a warning. He never protected Y/N from him again, despite how much he wanted to.

“Y/N?” she hears Harry’s drawled voice call her name and she snaps her eyes away from her guard and back up to her fiancée.

“I need to speak with my Father. Would you like to come or join your family?” he asks her quietly and she reaches up to scratch at the bridge of her nose, a nervous habit, when she realises their pinkies are still linked.

He lets go and she clears her throat, taking a small step back and patting down the dress that hasn’t given her the confidence she hoped it would.

“Uh, I’ll go see Maria,” she mumbles with pursed lips and awkwardly walks past him, not standing around long enough for him to reach down and kiss her cheek in a polite manner.

Instead, he watches her walk away to her gushing, pink-haired cousin who has definitely drunk at least two bottles of champagne in the past hour. He waits until Y/N reaches her and he sees her shoulders relax, then a hand sits on his and he turns, his Father already by his side.

“She’s a real beauty, Harry. Don’t know how you can wait another three years for your wedding day.” Stefano’s perverted voice leaks through his ears.

Harry tries not to grimace or put a bullet in his leg for his comment. “I like my women with consent,” he mumbles, eyes back on her curved frame as she nervously wrings her hands while listening to Maria.

Stefano barks out a laugh, like not wanting to rape someone is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Suit yourself.”

He thinks that’ll be the end of it, that no more will be said about his fiancée, but Mike joins them both, eyes alert and posture sturdy. He reaches Harry and stands beside him, hands folded across his chest.

“Pretty little thing you got over there,” he remarks teasingly, though his voice holds no threat. He’s just stating facts but it still doesn’t sit well with Harry.

Mike has been his guard for three years now, and was one of Stefano’s soldiers beforehand. Harry and Mike have always been close, always shared too much between them both and Harry’s right-hand man and best friend, Jeff.

The three of them often spend their nights at the club, fucked between six or seven girls with strobe lights flashing. It’s a much more regular occurrence than when Harry does it with Dante.

He supposes there won’t be any more of that when he’s married.

He hums. Y/N’s eyes find him as she listens to something Maria says. She holds his gaze but something is off. Her body is rigid as she stands straight but her shoulders are slumped. Harry stares at her for another moment, eyes squinted when he notices hers are void of emotion.

She stares at him, like he’s not even there. Her face is blank, an expression that his soldiers have taken years to master. Harry gulps down something he doesn’t understand.

He hopes he hasn’t already broken her.

When the evening is over and the guests have left, Y/N and Harry are standing idly by the exit. Their separate cars are waiting for them as they say their goodbyes, families watching from their cars. She hasn’t relaxed much as the night progressed and now that she’s standing back by his side, her shoulders are stiff again and there’s a lump in her throat.

She knows she won’t be seeing him for another three years, that this is a temporary goodbye. Her heart begins to thump. Is he going to kiss her? Is he allowed? They’re not married yet but they will be.

Harry senses her quarrel and reaches for her hand, pulling out a little flip phone from his inner jacket pocket and turns her palm upright, sitting it in her hand. Y/N frowns, fingers closing around the old device and she looks up at him with pinched brows and an upturned lip.

“Um… what…” she doesn’t quite know what to say, doesn’t know how to ask him why he’s giving her a brick burner phone.

Harry reaches for her other hand and brings it over the phone, covering it and holding her hands in his. “My number’s in there and so is Mikey’s in case ya can’t reach me. I don’t know if your Father allows you t’have one, but now you do,” he explains briefly.

She doesn’t tell Harry that she’s never been allowed one, that she’ll no doubt get a black eye and a bloody lip for hiding it from Giovanni.

Instead, her tongue swipes across her lower lip and she nods. “Thank you.”

She isn’t sure what she’s thanking him for? It’s an old burner phone with two numbers on it. She can’t access the internet, can’t play games. No doubt all other numbers are blocked and she’ll only be able to call him and his guard, but she still feels a sense of relief? Maybe because he gave her that little bit of freedom… could it even be considered that?

“If he lays a hand on you in these next three years, I want you to promise you’ll tell me. I don’t care what time it is, you tell me.” His face is stoic, stern and set jaw.

She can see the seriousness in his eyes and she nods, like she’s hypnotised by the way his concern and worry flitters in his eyes. Maybe she is, she’s never seen that look directed to her before, at least not for a very long time.

“I promise,” Y/N swears, her eyes on his, and for a moment, she forgets the whole arrangement, that he’s going to be her husband for the rest of her life.

Because for that fleeting second, she feels like a shy girl in front of a handsome man that makes her heart flutter. For a blink of an eye, she feels normal as he gazes down at her with a look she can’t point. But that’s all it is. A moment and a look.

He doesn’t expect her to actually tell him, not when he can tell how embarrassed she feels when it’s mentioned. So when he’s on the private jet back to New York that night and he gets a text, his heart sinks to his feet. He’d left her for three hours and Giovanni had his grubby hands on her already, punishing her for something she didn’t tell him.

From: Y/N

What was it that you said? That he wouldn’t hurt me anymore?

He calls her immediately, but before the first ring can sound through his ear, the call is ended. His grip on the phone tightens and it takes everything in him not to throw it across the fucking plane. He can’t afford Stefano pressuring him about what’s wrong, he can’t have him knowing that he wants to protect Y/N. He can’t show that weakness.

Mike sits beside him, clicking his tongue as Jeff sits across from them. No one says anything, they don’t need to. Harry always took pride in his stoic expressions in times of agitation or fear, but the boys know him better than that.

They grew with him, watched him master that monstrous cold exterior that refuses to falter when he was beaten and tortured. Harry has been forced to bite his tongue in worse scenarios, so why is something so minuscule so difficult for him?

“This isn’t going to end well. You’ve met her once and you’re getting attached,” Mike says quietly, lips barely moving so as to not attract Stefano’s attention while he talks on the phone to Harry’s Mother, no doubt scolding Anne for something he did wrong.

Harry’s knee is bouncing, a nervous tick he hasn’t shown in years. He’s pissed that Stefano wouldn’t allow Anne and Gemma to the engagement party, Harry wanted his mother and sister to meet his fiancée, needed that support, even if he would never admit that out loud.

Jeff reaches over and kicks Harry’s ankle, stopping the jitters and he gnaws at his inner cheek, nostrils flaring and gently shaking his head.

“Not getting attached, Mikey. Just don’t like the idea of her Father laying a hand on her,” he seethes quietly through gritted teeth and Jeff squints.

He’s known Harry his entire life, knows how he feels about the lack of respect women receive in mafia families, how much he fucking loves his Mum and Gemma. And he knows he’s never seen Harry this pissed over some girl before, much less some girl he’s met once and hasn’t even touched.

Nothing else is said on the matter and in the following sixteen months, he doesn’t hear from her. He calls often and most nights the call ends before it rings, and others, all it does is dial in his ears.

He knows she’s kept the phone on, that she’s been reading the two-weekly check-in texts that he makes. He can see every call she makes and texts she sends, but she doesn’t send or receive any. Only from him.

He’s found it difficult. He’s never believed in affairs or homewrecking, call him old fashioned, and being in an engagement to a woman he doesn’t know or love has taken its toll. He knew he’d never be able to marry for love, that he would have had to marry for the Famiglia, for power and status. And he truly thought he’d have no problem in remaining faithful to his future wife, that whether they grew to love each other or not, she would be able to quench his thirst.

But Harry didn’t expect to have to wait three years after getting engaged and for his fiancée to be only just legal when they first met. To him, a four-year age gap is nothing, but remembering she’s now just turned nineteen and he’s almost twenty-three, he feels a bit funny about the whole situation.

He’s cut down on his fucks of the week. No more endless nights at the club with Mike and Jeff, fucking six or seven of the dancers between them. He’s been re-acquainted with his hand and on the odd occasion that it isn’t enough, he’s found himself in one of the private rooms in the back of the bar with Lily, one of his favourite dancers and fucks, just like tonight.

It’s been a long day of calls and fights and bullets and blood, and he needed to fuck his frustrations out somewhere. It’s no surprise to him when he comes much sooner than usual, but Lily doesn’t seem to be complaining.

Harry always had a knack to make her cum long before he did. She’s panting and giggling, pushing those bleach blonde locks from her face as she readjusts her outfit and spins on her heels, dazed eyes and drunken smile.

Harry doesn’t need to look at her to know. She watches him tug off the condom and shove his softening, yet still impressive length back in his pants with a smirk, bottom lip caught between her teeth as he fixes his suit to a more presentable standard.

It’s when he’s tucking his shirt in that she notices the silver band around his ring finger and she’s reminded he’s engaged. Lily isn’t stupid, she’s been in the business long enough to know it’s an arranged one.

“You get married in a few months, right? Wonder if she’ll be able to satisfy you like I can… though you are here now, so I suppose she can’t,” she snickers, eyes dark like she thinks Harry is about to laugh and agree, like he’s pleased with his infidelity.

He isn’t. His eyes darken and not in the way she wants them to, bile rising to his throat. He’ll be damned if he lets anyone talk about his fiancée like that.

“Probably not, I hear she’s a little virgin anyway. But hey, maybe her Dad broke her in for y-”

Her back is smashing against the wall, air knocked out of her before she can finish her sentence. Harry’s got his ring-clad fingers gripping her chin and jaw, nose pressed to hers and he’s seething.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, Lily. Just because we fuck, doesn’t mean you can get away with shit. Have a little respect, or I won’t go so easy on your old man next week when he doesn’t have my fuckin’ money.”

He doesn’t stand around long enough to see the fear in her eyes grow. Instead, he lets go, grabs his gun and leaves the girl standing in shock, silent tears rolling down her rosy cheeks and a trembling jaw.

Harry’s never laid a forceful hand on a woman until now and he thought he’d hate himself for it, but right now, all he can think about is Y/N. Of the disgusting things Lily said.

He texts her when he gets to his car, his usual ‘just checking in, how are things?’ and he grows impatient when she doesn’t respond immediately. But she never responds immediately; usually, she never responds at all. He’s speeding his way back to the penthouse, knuckles white as he grips the wheel and it only takes the usual 20-minute-drive just six.

By the time he’s storming into the elevator and punching in the security code to get to his floor, his phone is vibrating in his pocket and he fishes it out quickly, shoulders tensing when he sees Maria’s name after he made it very clear to only contact him if it was an emergency for Y/N. He unlocks the phone and reads over the message.

From: Maria

He found the phone.

Harry’s blood runs cold, sweat dotting at his hairline and for a second, he feels an unfamiliar lump climb up his throat. All he sees is red and his chest is heaving. He hasn’t felt this angry in a long time, so rageful. Harry shakes his head, teeth gritted and jaw set hard. How fucking stupid does Giovanni think he is that Harry wouldn’t find out? That he wouldn’t have given another phone to Maria in case something like this happened? How fucking brave is he, laying a hand on something that belongs to Harry? How fucking dare he.

Harry’s dialling numbers before his mind can even catch up to his action and after the first three rings sound through his ears, he lets out a growl and seethes through his teeth.

“Move the wedding forward. I want her with me now.”

It feels like déjà vu, standing in front of the same curved mirror with her mother standing behind her, pulling the same distasteful expression.

The flowers decorating the bride’s suit are the same; beige carnation bouquets with baby’s breath scattered sparsely between. The same, stupid classical music plays from the same scratched record, and the same golden cage is still wrapped tight around her ring finger.

The only thing that’s changed is her.

She’s grown a few inches taller and she’s filled out nicely. Her hips have rounded well and her breasts are full and perky. The chubby cheeks left sometime six months ago and her facial structure is strong and defined.

Her eyes are different now, not the same as they were two years ago, and she’s cut most of her hair. It sits just below her shoulders now, gappy bangs long across her forehead.

She got Maria to cut it on her birthday.

Gaia is struggling behind her daughter, lacing the back bodice of her wedding dress. It’s pretty—gorgeous, actually; a long mesh train with embroidered roses and petals across the hem of it.

A perfect fit across the top, a generous amount of suitable cleavage and as it meets her hips, the embroidery fades and the dress gently puffs out, accentuating her curves just a little more.

She feels pretty, like a Princess, but she silently reminds herself this isn’t a fairytale wedding, no matter how badly she wishes it was. Y/N watches herself in the mirror, short hair curled and pinned perfectly, wavy bangs framing her face and she looks ethereal.

She doesn’t have a black eye beneath the makeup like last time, nor does she have a busted lip.

Gaia tugs at the back of the dress again.

“Succhialo, figlia,” she scolds and Y/N rolls her eyes but she sucks her stomach in even more, nonetheless.

The last few months leading up to the wedding have been gruelling, to say the least. Y/N has been poked and prodded by several tailors and designers and she’ll be happy once this whole thing is over with.

She’s also had time to think. With Harry’s insistent texts and sporadic calls, she’s felt a little more at ease about the situation, like she was starting to get to know him a little better through the blank messages.

But as she stands in front of the mirror again, her nerves are ten times bigger than two years ago.

Giovanni only told her three months ago that the wedding was being moved forward—that she’ll be a married woman before her both her 20th and 21st birthday.

She didn’t question it, not when by the looks of his face, it definitely wasn’t his idea and he didn’t have much of a say in the matter.

When she found out, a part of her was thankful, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders because Giovanni wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore. He hasn’t laid a hand on her since the night he found the burner phone.

She stupidly left it on the bed while she showered and Harry had texted her. She didn’t hear the message alert, nor her Father waiting for her in her room.

She did, however, know about the mistake she made when she left the bathroom in a towel and his fist kissed her cheek in a brisk greeting.

A lump rises in her throat at the memory. It didn’t stop there, why would it. She cried herself to sleep that night and every night after for three weeks.

She was unrecognisable for twelve days, bloody and bruised and banned from leaving the house. She tried to end it all that night, after he left her sobbing on her floor, naked and vulnerable.

Maria had stopped her just in time, snuck into her bedroom through the window and held her until she passed out.

She hasn’t looked her parents in the eye since. Gaia had stood by and watched it all, face stoic and void of emotion. Bruno ignored her screams of terror and begs of mercy.

And Gomez?

Gomez was shot in the foot for trying to intervene. She’s only had one thing giving her the will to power through this, to marry a monster.

Fear has no place in a marriage.

Maybe this arrangement will be her escape.

Y/N zones out as Gaia finishes lacing the back of her dress, too busy trying to calm the erratic thumping in her chest and will the pooling tears away. She blindly follows her mother out of the suite and down the stairs, holding her dress gently bunched in her hands.

It’s like everything moves in slow motion and all sounds are white noise. She can hear her heart thumping against her rib cage, can feel the sweat growing between her fingers, the lump forming in her throat as she notices Giovanni waiting for her outside of the chapel doors.

She stands behind him silently, not daring to make eye contact as Gaia takes a side entrance to join the rest of the guests.

They wait, Giovanni watching his daughter with cautious eyes. She’s too busy staring at the dark oak doors, knowing her future is waiting on the other side, another ring to bind her angelic soul to his tainted one.

Y/N feels her eyes stinging with burning tears as Giovanni loops his arm around hers and the double doors slowly open.

“You look beautiful, figlia,” he tells her through a strained whisper, like the words any normal father would shower his daughter with were burning his lungs.

The lump swells back in her throat. Of all her eighteen years of life, he’s never once said something so fatherly.

She can feel her chest aching, the idea that maybe seeing his little girl marry a stranger is hurting his heart like it’s hurting hers, but as she peers up at him for the first time in months, she sees a smile pulling on his lips.

His heart isn’t hurting. He’s just happy to get a power boost.

Y/N doesn’t pay attention to the piano ballad that begins to play softly as her father guides her through the arch of the chapel. She doesn’t acknowledge her family and his standing from their seats and cooing at the gorgeous young woman she’s turned into.

She stares at her feet as they take their first step into purgatory, before her eyes find the devil.

Harry freezes from his view at the altar. Clad in a slick red suit with ungodly curls, his mouth runs dry and knees almost buckle.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

He can feel his heart thumping in his chest as she gets closer, can feel the anger bubble in his blood at the sight of Giovanni’s arm looped around hers.

His hands are tensed into tight fists in front of him, jaw ticking and teeth gritted. But then he glances back at his bride and his heart skips a pulse.

She doesn’t have a veil over her head and he can see just how gorgeous she’s become. He hasn’t seen her in two years and now he feels speechless.

She dodges his gaze as her father kisses her cheek briskly, leaving her to walk the little step of the platform and stand before their families.

She turns to Harry, hands trembling as she picks at her nails. His gaze wavers from her face, drinking her in and as he eyes her generous chest, he notices the little green emerald that sits across her neck.

The emerald necklace he gifted her for her birthday two weeks ago.

Neither of them pay attention to the priest as she looks up at him through fluttering lashes. He’s grown even more attractive in the past two years and it’s intimidating.

She feels small under his soft gaze, but not unsafe. Maybe she just feels uncomfortable knowing what’s to come between them, what will be expected of her as his new wife.

Over his shoulder, Bruno stands tall with a cocky smirk and shimmering eyes. He doesn’t watch his baby sister be sold off to a killer. Instead, his eyes are on a blonde from Harry’s family, a dirty smirk on his lips.

Mike stands behind him, stuck out like a sore thumb. The only redhead in the entire chapel yet he fits right in.

It’s Mike behind them both that catches Y/N’s attention. He’s watching her closely, just like Gomez has for years but there’s something off in the way he observes her; like he’s memorising every tick and nerve in her body.

Her eyes land back on Harry but he’s been watching her the entire time. He doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to know his Mother is gleaming and sister picking her nails in boredom. He doesn’t need to look to know how apprehensive Maria is.

Neither of them can focus on what the official says. Y/N doesn’t dare look anywhere besides his face, trying to gauge his reaction, his mood.

He’s stoic as ever but a hint of a smirk tugs at the deep corners of his pink lips and his eyes are twinkling with a thrill of the unknown.

Hers are swimming in tears.

She tries to master his same expression, to prove she feels emptiness––but while her heart thumps shallowly in her chest, her eyes sting with the realisation that this is the end.

“You may now say your vows.”

The words drum through her ears and Harry nods, taking her hands in his open palms. Neither of them look away and Harry knows his Mother is trying to bite back a cry.

She always wanted her boy to marry for love, not for this.

Their official holds a small cream cushion, two pretty bands sitting on the velvet and Harry reaches for Y/N’s, lining it with her ring finger.

“With this ring, I take thee to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love and care, and cherish every inch of your body and soul. I promise to protect and provide and stand by your side through light and dark. I promise my soul and heart to you, to our future children. I promise to love you until my final breath.”

Y/N feels a piece of her heart break as he slides the ring down her finger, greeting the engagement and promising their unprecedented future.

Her facade doesn’t falter and her mind draws blank.

She doesn’t think about her childhood, when Bruno used to carry her around the house on his back, when she and Maria painted each other's nails, when Gaia taught her Italian for the first time, or when Giovanni taught her how to tie her shoes.

Y/N’s mind rolls blank, like the person she was before is dead. Like she’s just been rebirthed into another life.

She reaches for the cushion and takes the band between her fingers, crowning it over Harry’s first knuckle as she looks back up at him.

An arranged marriage takes two, but she knows she’s in this alone.

“With this ring, I take thee to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, to love and support. I promise to stand by your side through the dark and the light. I offer my heart and soul, my body and mind. I promise to be eternally yours, until my final breath.”

And as she slides the ring past his second knuckle and the official pronounces them man and wife, the shaking begins.

Her body screams, igniting in a blazing fire, eyes frantic in terror and uncertainty.

But Harry gently cups his palms around her soft cheeks and with eyes on her, he kneels just enough to press his soft lips to her full ones and the uncomfortable burning eases into a welcoming warmth.

Her screams are silenced as his kiss offers a sense of comfort, like a mother and child’s first touch.

Y/N Saccaro dies a coward, but Y/N Styles-Delluci is born a survivor.

When they stand outside the chapel, she doesn’t have time to think about anything. She gripped his hand tightly as he led her down the aisle, ignoring the cheers of praise and excitement for the two.

They stand in the little entryway, side by side with Gomez a few steps to her side and Mike a few steps to Harry’s.

Giovanni and Gaia are the first to follow the newlyweds into the entryway, shaking Harry’s hand before moving along a few steps to shake Y/N’s.

Her parents look at her like she’s a stranger, no pained smiles or familiarity in their eyes. They move along as quickly as they came and Maria follows, her Father close behind.

She shakes Harry’s hand timidly before moving to her cousin, eyes watering and chin trembling.

Y/N doesn’t hesitate to pull her into a quick embrace, arms strong around one another and Y/N can feel her cousin’s heart thumping against her chest.

Romero is who pulls them both apart, offering his niece a firm handshake before a tight clasp on Maria’s shoulder pushes her away from the couple.

Y/N’s eyes are glued to them, wild in fear of what will happen to her best friend now she won’t be home to protect and comfort her.

Harry reaches for her hand, notices her worry and loops his pinky around hers, squeezing just enough to get her attention. When she turns back to him, she blinks back tears and her blurry vision settles on three bodies that stand by Harry’s side.

Stefano stands in front of the two women, shaking his son's hand with a proud smirk before he moves along to his daughter-in-law, reaching for her hand and kissing her knuckles. There’s a dirty smirk on his lips and Y/N squeezes Harry’s finger.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N. You’re a Delluci now,” he grins.

She slips her hand from his hold and takes a tentative step closer to Harry’s side.

“Styles-Delluci,” Harry corrects him, jaw set and eyes gleaming a fire he’s desperate to burn.

Stefano grits his teeth behind closed lips and walks on, allowing Y/N to take a brief breath of relief before she’s quickly introduced to the rest of his immediate family.

Anne stands in front of the girl, eyes regarding her with concern and kindness. In a cream dress, she reaches for both of Y/N’s hands and smiles kindly at the young woman.

“My name is Anne, I’m Harry’s Mum,” she introduces herself.

Y/N looks back to her mother-in-law; a beautiful woman with kind eyes and a welcoming smile. Every inch of her screams maternal natures, something she’s lacked all her life.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she replies politely, allowing Anne to pull her into a cautious embrace, close enough to ensure warmth, but far enough to not warrant fear.

She squeezes her softly, lips finding her ear.

“You’re safe with him, I promise,” Anne swears and Y/N can do nothing but nod.

When they pull away, Gemma stands by her mother with a gleaming smile and she sticks her hand out for her sister-in-law to shake.

“I’m Gemma, Harry’s little sister… and you're really pretty,” Gemma grins through chubby cheeks, a silent squeal of excitement.

She doesn’t understand the full extent of the marriage, Harry and Anne have always tried to shield the fifteen-year-old from the harsh truths of the world she was born into.

Y/N’s eyes widen and a shy smile tugs at the corners of her pink painted lips. She can feel her heart flutter in her chest and she reaches to shake Gemma’s hand softly.

Part of her nerves seems to falter around the Delluci women and Y/N misses the way Harry watches the exchange with thin lips but sparkling eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gemma. And you’re very pretty, too,” Y/N tells the young girl, a soft smile on her lips and the youngest Delluci blushes under her gaze, looping her arm around her mothers.

Harry reaches down slightly, bending to his mother’s level and pressing a kiss to her temple before turning to his sister to set his lips to the top of her head.

“We’ll see you both in there,” he tells them.

Y/N watches with curious eyes, can’t take her gaze off him as he stands by her side and their fingers brush again. This time, neither of them link their pinkies.

“They’re nice,” she finally speaks, gaze fluttering to the ground when Harry cranes his neck to look at her.

He hums with a small nod.

He doesn’t say anything else as the rest of the hundreds of family and friends filter their way through the little entrance, shaking the hands of the couple and offering words of congratulations to Harry.

Between great uncles and underbosses, Dante greets the newlyweds again. This time, he isn’t alone. There’s a gorgeous blonde on his arm, tucked in his side with a loving smile as she stares up at The Boss.

“Harry, Y/N, congratulations,” he shakes Harry’s hand first then reaches for Y/N.

He clasps another hand over her knuckles and nods politely. The blonde hugs Harry as he thanks her for coming and she turns Y/N, a bright smile on her lips.

“You make such a beautiful bride!” she gushes. “My name's Daigle, I’m Dante’s wife.”

Y/N’s eyes widen as she’s pulled into a warm embrace and another bundle of relief is whispered in her ear.

“You got lucky with Harry.”

When she pulls away, Y/N’s eyes are swimming with tears of relief and gratitude. The couple congratulates them again as they make their way toward the banquet hall.

As Y/N’s about to say something to her husband, to tell him she didn’t know Dante had a wife, his hand sits at the bottom of her back and pulls her to his side, effectively cutting her off before she can even start.

“Congratulations my boy, what an impressive little bride you’ve got yourself,” a dark voice rattles through her ears and Y/N feels herself coil into Harry’s side.

The man is a little shorter than her husband, dark hair on his balding scalp and a slight podge to his lower stomach. He looks at the young bride with a sickening grin that awakens something in the pit of her stomach.

This is what she’s used to.

The lingering looks from pervy uncles and passers-by. Being subjected to nothing but a pretty face, even since she was young.

“Uncle Salvatore,” Harry greets through pursed lips and gritted teeth.

Salvatore’s eyes are glued to Y/N’s chest and Harry’s blood is boiling, knows he’s going red in the face and the vein in his neck is no doubt ready to pop.

Salvatore reaches for Y/N’s hand and kisses her knuckles, gazing up at her with a creepy stare but it doesn’t make her squirm in discomfort. This is the look she’s grown accustomed to over the years.

She’s mastered her poker face when old men hit on her, touch her. For Y/N, this is the norm. What she isn’t used to and what does make her curl into Harry’s side, is Salvatore’s son.

“Nino Delluci…” he begins, eyes wonton as they reach the bride, “... And you are a sight for sore eyes. What in Hell are you doing with my cousin?”

She doesn’t break eye contact when he smirks down at her with hungry eyes, gnawing on his bottom lip. She doesn’t break eye contact when he reaches for her hand and kisses her knuckles.

Twice.

She only breaks eye contact when he hums something incoherent along the lines of ‘I’d love to make you bleed’ under his breath, while taking her in.

Harry’s grip on his wife’s side tightens.

“Can we go inside now?” she asks softly, a hand reaching up to rest on his chest.

Harry squares his shoulders, eyes firm on his cousin which only encourages Nino’s smug face. She doesn’t notice the small boy that gazes up at her with a lovestruck smile from Nino’s side, nor does she notice Salvatore smirking grimly by the door.

“So soon, baby? Don’t you wanna get to know your new family a little better?” Nino taunts, taking a step toward her but Harry’s quicker.

He gently nudges Y/N behind his towering frame and squares up to Nino, nostrils flared.

“Back the fuck off, Nino.” Harry’s jaw is locked in place, lips pursed.

His cousin chuckles to himself, hands up in surrender.

Gomez and Mike remain still in their positions. They know not to interfere unless it’s completely necessary. Nino walks away, the young boy following as Salvatore holds the door open for them.

Harry doesn’t let his posture fall as they walk through the door, and Y/N lets out a shaky breath, skin breaking out in goosebumps as she rolls her shoulders and twists her neck.

Harry turns back to her, eyes cautious as he tilts his head to get a better look. He knows Nino shook her up, that she’s used to the unwanted attention from older men, but never from men so close to her age.

But what he doesn’t realise is while Y/N heard him raise his voice, her mind was sent into turmoil. Will he shout at her like that? Should she feel safe because she knows he can protect her? Would he use that same tone with her if she doesn’t do what he wants?

“Your cousin’s a little forward,” she coughs out nervously, shaking her head to rid the thoughts. Harry’s heart ticks and he scoffs a laugh.

“My cousin’s a cunt,” he corrects her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she stares up at him, innocence swimming in her features. Harry forgets again that she’s been raised a young lady, that she’s never been around much potty mouth, and he realises just how much he’s going to corrupt her in this marriage.

As much as Harry wants to protect his wife, he won’t pretend to be someone he isn’t for the sake of an arranged marriage. His potty mouth is just one of the things she’ll have to get used to.

“Stay away from Nino. You may think I’m a monster, but I have my morals. Nino is merciless and evil. He will do whatever he wants and take whatever he pleases. No matter the consequences,” he warns her, his voice timid.

Y/N doesn’t say anything. She thinks her father is the same, so what could someone two decades younger do to scare her?

She listens, though; takes what he said into consideration. Y/N doesn’t have any desire to talk to Nino ever again.

Her fork has scraped across her full plate for almost forty minutes now. She’s not hungry, not even in the slightest.

Harry’s been watching her, peering over to his side and often gently nudging his elbow into her arm, nodding to the plate which only makes her shoulders slump.

Y/N hasn’t listened to any of the speeches from their families, nor has she acknowledged much of what Harry’s said to her all evening.

But Harry has hardly looked away.

He isn’t angry, he couldn’t be. But she’s only eaten a few mouthfuls of the meat and she’s almost drunk her body weight in champagne and rosé. He’s a little worried. Her eyes have been drooping for over fifteen minutes and her vibrant skin looks sickly grey.

The last thing he wants is for her to embarrass them both and throw up all over the head table.

“The potatoes are good,” he murmurs slowly in her ear.

She slowly turns her head to look at him, blinking slowly. She cranes her neck and purses her lips together. He’s handsome, that much she can’t deny, and in her hazy, drunken state, she wonders what her lips would feel like on hers again.

He is her husband now, surely she could just… reach up… connect their lips…

“And now for the first dance!” Y/N sinks back a little more in her chair and she suddenly feels sick for even considering kissing him again.

He’s dangerous and he’s a monster.

He doesn’t love you, he doesn’t care for you, Y/N, stop this!

Harry raises from his seat as all eyes find the couple.. He’s danced drunkenly with his Mother enough times to know how to cover up her alcohol intolerance.

She’s tucked in his side, their fingers intertwined as he guides them both to the dancefloor. The lights are dim, a twinkle from the fairy lights that are wrapped around wooden beams and looped across curtains illuminating the stuffy room.

With her hand in his, he raises it above her head and gently nudges her hip to spin beneath his arm. She falls gently into his chest with a soft ‘oof’ and Harry wraps his arms around her.

Y/N’s head rests against his hard pecs as he slowly begins to dance with her. She can’t keep up, though, the heels are too high in her drunken state and her knees start to buckle.

She feels her cheeks warm in embarrassment and she knows all eyes are on them. Harry hears her whine softly in his chest and with one arm around her waist, he gently lifts her so her feet sit on his.

He guides her arms around his neck, slowly stepping in a slow dance and she dares to peek up at him, innocent eyes and swollen lips. Harry cranes his neck down to meet her gaze, and those gorgeous eyes are swimming with threatening tears.

He doesn’t understand that she’s grateful for something as little as saving her from embarrassment. He doesn’t understand that she can’t understand her own thoughts.

Neither of them pay attention to the beautiful ballad that plays through the hall, nor do they appreciate the piano or string quartet that carries their dance.

Instead, she stares at him like it’ll be the last time she ever sees his handsome face, and he watches her with wonder and curiosity while his heart begs his mind not to break her like he knows he inevitably will.

For a fleeting moment, all of her doubts slip from her mind. She lets herself believe that he will protect her from pain and anguish, that he will love and cherish her, that she will be able to trust him for the rest of her life.

For a fleeting moment, she forgets again that this isn’t a marriage bound by love, but one bound by honour and duty.

Then the music stops and Salvatore takes a step forward, raising a half-empty glass in the air to gain the attention of the other guests.

“You wed her, now bed her!”

And just like that, the entirety of the male wedding party is chanting those same words. The pair pull apart and Y/N’s wide eyes are scanning the crowd for an escape. She knows she can’t run but fuck, does she want to.

“Wed her, now bed her! Wed her, now bed her!”

“Make a masterpiece on those sheets for us, Harry.”

“Make your wife bleed!”

“Wed her, now bed her!”

Her frantic eyes find those of her mothers, but Gaia looks away, head tilted and chin up like she can’t bear the thought of looking in her daughter's desperate eyes. Y/N begins to panic, chest rising and falling in terror and she finds Maria.

Her cousin stares at her in shock, jaw slack and she tries to run for her, to pull her away from Harry but Mike stands in her way, blocking her from Y/N and ultimately escorting her out of the hall.

Gomez watches, swallowing the bile that crawls up his throat. He knew this day would come, that one day Y/N would be married off and forced into a new life she never agreed to.

He just hoped it wouldn’t hurt so much watching it happen. With a tentative hand on her back, Harry leads Y/N out of the hall. The party follows, cheering them on as she holds her dress and wanders up the thick spiral stairs.

Their room is at the very far end of the hall, away from all the others where they can’t be disturbed… or heard.

Her heart thumps sporadically and the alcohol feels like it’s worn off, and she’s far too aware of what’s supposed to happen now.

Because now, she has to give herself to him. Every inch and fibre of her entire being is about to be his, by choice or not, he’s going to take it all.

He closes the door behind them as they wander in and the frantic terror begins, surges of confidence smacking her.

Harry turns to face her, face stoic as ever and she stumbles over her feet, hands reaching out to steady herself and she shoves at his chest. Harry can smell the alcohol on her breath. He doesn’t know if it’s the first or third bottle of champagne.

He cocks a brow at her bravery and she glares up at him through droopy eyes.

“Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I’ll bow down to your every order.” She slurs, almost losing her footing.

Harry holds her up by her elbow.

He’s shocked by her sudden change in attitude and he has to bite back a laugh. Was this the real Y/N breaking through?

“Is that so?”

There’s an amused grin on his lips. He finds it fucking hilarious. He’s never been turned down by a woman before, but it’s too amusing to watch her in her drunken state for him to take her refusal as a punch to his ever-growing ego.

He was never going to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state. Maybe that’s why he’s so amused by the situation.

Y/N stumbles again.

“If you so much as force yourself on me tonight, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

It’s an empty threat, Harry’s sure of it. He squints his eyes at his wife, but she doesn’t show any signs that she’s unsure of her own words. He thinks the seriousness of the situation is starting to sober her up and she’s brave, too brave.

“Think you’re forgetting who the Capo is here, princess.” He warns.

She holds her glare as he dips his head closer to her face. He expects her to look away, to cower under his gaze like every other woman, but she doesn’t. She holds her chin high.

“You’re not Capo yet. But when you are, I will make deals impossible, I will run and believe me, I can run. I will burn you and your stupid Famiglia.”

Something flashes in his eyes, and it’s not amusement. He no longer finds her insolence funny. It’s anger. Anger that she thinks she can talk to him like that and get away with it.

But he’s conflicted. He knows she’s scared, that she’s shaking as she grits her teeth and stares in defiance.

“Then I’ll just have to torture you like all the other traitors.”

Lies. Big fat lies.

He’d never lay a hand on a woman, traitor or not. But his blood still boils at Y/N’s stubbornness. He never intended on taking what is rightfully his without her permission.

Y/N coils in disgust, a sardonic laugh slipping past her lips. Her sad smile falls as quickly as it had appeared, and she’s back to looking stoic.

“Do it, I dare you. Because I’ll just keep rebelling. I’ll publicly humiliate us both, just to see you fall.” She threatens, and Harry wants to believe it’s an empty one.

He doesn’t think he’d ever go against his own morals, but she’s beginning to wear his patience thin, not that he’s ever had much of it.

“Then I’ll put a fucking bullet through your skull.” Another fucking lie.

She steps closer, alcohol thick on her breath but she looks as sober as the day they first met.

“Baby, I’ll be pulling the trigger. My life ended the day I was born. Killing me would do us both a favour. You might as well just get it over with.”

Harry regards the girl for a moment as her voice breaks. He tries to read her, to get a glint of any flicker of emotion he can. But there’s nothing. Plain emptiness. He knows that resolve would fall under the touch of a blade or pliers pulling off her painted fingernails.

The thought of someone even touching a hair on her perfect head sends fury through his veins.

He doesn’t notice just how angry the thought makes him until the metallic taste of blood lingers on his tongue, a taste all too familiar. He’s bit into his lip.

“Forget what I said on your birthday. Fear has every place in a marriage and I hope you’re fucking terrified.”

He spits blood on the white sheets, his saliva turning it pink as it soaks into the fabric. “There, you saved your virginity for the night.”

She stares at him, shoulders sagging just an inch as she wobbles on her feet. It’s like the alcohol is making another appearance as she grimaces at him.

“Who said I was a virgin?”

When dawn breaks and light filters through the musty room, Y/N stirs from her slumber with a groggy head and unsettled stomach.

At first, she doesn’t recall the night before, but from the dull throbbing across her temples, she knows alcohol had a strong play in the evening.

It’s when she shifts in the bed, that she realises something is off.

Her bed isn’t this soft… and the sheets in her room are definitely not white cotton. She turns her head, eyes meeting the sleeping face of the notorious mobster, and she shrieks, startling him from his light slumber.

Y/N falls off the bed in an attempt to flee the situation, but when she stands, she realises she’s not in her heavy wedding dress anymore and she feels light.

Bile crawls up her throat at the realisation that she’s in his dress shirt, that she isn’t wearing a bra and while the shirt ends mid-thigh, she’s only got on those sheer panties underneath.

Harry watches her gaze trail over his body–his very naked body, besides his black boxers. She gulps at the sight, shaking her head and trying to ignore his thick thighs and toned abdomen.

Her mind conjures up the worst.

She slept with him, he took what innocence she had left.

Her thoughts are only confirmed when she notices the dark pinkish spots of blood on the sheets and she feels sick, lightheaded – and she knows it’s not from the hangover.

Harry watches her freak for a moment, watches the regret and fear flood her eyes and he quickly realises she doesn’t remember a damn thing.

He doesn’t do anything to reassure her. Doesn’t remind her that he spat blood on the sheets, or that the reason she’s in his shirt is because she struggled too much to get out of her dress and didn’t have any other clothes to change into, so he gave her his shirt.

He doesn’t tell her that he didn’t lay a hand on her, that he waited until she was asleep before laying beside her peaceful body.

“You were willing, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he breaks the silence, voice rugged and he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

She doesn’t dare look at him, arms wrapped tightly around herself and she feels ashamed, so fucking ashamed. She believes him, though. He may be a monster but he’s known to be an honourable man, a man of his words, not a liar.

“And even if you weren’t…” he stands from the bed as an insistent knocking begins to pound on their door.

“You’re my wife now, so I have the right to take what I want.”

He doesn’t believe a word he just said. He’d never force himself on her or any other woman, no matter what. That’s one thing he’ll always stay true to.

Y/N backs into the wall at his words. She ignores him opening the door with a tired grin, ignores the gossiping women of the family flooding through the room and whispering about the frail wife.

Her mind is on such an overdrive that she doesn’t see the truth right in front of her. She doesn’t realise that her thighs don’t ache and her core isn’t tender. She doesn’t notice that she doesn’t have any bruises decorating her soft skin, that Harry’s back isn’t littered in claw marks like it should be.

She believes the worst because it’s all she’s ever known.

They take the sheets with giddy smiles and gushing giggles as Harry steps into his dress pants from last night.

There’s no robe for her to cover herself with and unless she wants to wear the wedding dress that carried her into her new, caged life, she’ll have to go downstairs in Harry’s shirt and her panties.

She keeps her distance from him as they descend the staircase, arms still tight around her middle and she curls a little, just to make sure the shirt covers everything.

Everybody is watching as they enter the hall again, waiting for the bloody sheets to be presented for men to howl at and women to blush over.

Y/N keeps her eyes glued to the ground, wiggling her painted toes and biting back a cry that wants to tumble from her trembling mouth.

She ignores the cheers of pervy uncles and distant cousins, pretends she doesn’t notice the praise Harry gets and the pity looks she recieves with jealousy glares from the women.

It isn’t until the fuss dies down that she dares to look up with tear-stained cheeks and a quivering chin. Gaia still refuses to look at her from across the hall, but Maria doesn’t waste a second to see her cousin when Harry turns to talk to Mike.

“Y/N…” she breathes softly, reaching for her cousin’s arm but Y/N shy’s away from her family's touch and clears her throat, blinking back tears.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she mumbles hoarsely, shaking her head and looking away from her concerned eyes.

Maria frowns, glaring up at the tall man beside her and pointing a jabbed finger in his face.

“Hope you’re fucking proud of yourself,” she seethes.

Harry stares at the young girl. Her hair is blue now and her nose is pierced with a hoop, something he didn’t notice last night. He doesn’t entertain the girl, though. Instead, he shoves a hand in his trouser pocket and reaches for Y/N with the other.

They’re both shocked that she doesn’t cower away from his touch when he rests his palm on the small of her back.

“Let’s go get ready, then we can say goodbye. Jet leaves for New York in two hours,” he tells her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything about a honeymoon, doesn’t question why they aren’t going on one. She’s thankful they’ll only have to be on that plane for 4 hours together, there is no way in hell she could survive two weeks in complete isolation with him.

She gets ready in the bathroom, legs jelly as she changes from his shirt and her underwear. She throws the panties in the bin, not ever wanting to see them again.

She’s about to dress in what her mother packed; a beige pencil skirt and a flowy white blouse with four-inch heels, when she notices another small bag beside it.

She doesn’t need to wonder where it came from, she knows Maria found a way to pack her something more comfortable after a bad night and in preparation for a 4 hour flight.

So instead, she dresses in a pair of black leggings and an oversized grey sweater. Her hair is tied in a quick ponytail and her face is void of makeup and emotion.

She feels shy when she leaves the bathroom, wearing something so simple and looking so vulnerable. He’s dressed in another suit when she comes back into the bedroom, a simple black one with a white shirt and he’s strapping a gun to his chest when he notices her.

She looks tired, simple. She looks normal. He knows for a fact Gaia did not pack that outfit.

“You look comfy,” he mentions.

She swallows visibly and raises her chin, lips pursed as she stares at his forehead. He knows that trick. He knows she’s pretending to look him in the eye. He bites back a smile. She’s trying to hide her discomfort.

“The jet’s ready when you are. Would you like to say goodbye to your family now?”

A leather duffle bag hangs in his hand and her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek as she shakes her head.

“Um… actually, I don’t… want to say goodbye…” she admits quietly.

It’s silent for a moment as Harry’s brows bunch and he tries to figure her out.

“You know we’re not just going to New York for a weekend away, right? You’re going to be moving there, to live with me. I don’t know when you’ll next see them again,” he reminds her carefully, his words slow like he needs her to comprehend them properly.

But Y/N nods her head and relieves a breath.

“I know,” she tells him, her voice the most confident he’s ever heard and he nods once, agreeing.

“Okay, then let’s go.”

She’s been sitting beside him the entire time, curled up against the window. Neither of them have said a word, both too in their heads.

For Harry, he thinks about how he’s lied to her, how he’s letting her believe he took her innocence. He thinks about her desire to leave without saying goodbye to her family, about what was said on their wedding night, how empty she looked.

For Y/N, she thinks about her new life. She wonders if it’ll be better or worse. When she was at home, Giovanni took his frustration out on her, was cruel and abusive if she or someone else annoyed him.

She wonders if Harry will be the same when they’re back on his land, in his territory. She only remembers one thing from their wedding night. Fear has every place in a marriage, and I hope you’re terrified. She hopes he didn’t mean it.

It’s only the newlyweds on the plane and sleep comes quicker to her than she expected. The others had taken another jet, insisting that Harry and Y/N needed more time alone together. Really, it was just Anne's way of making sure Y/N didn’t feel overwhelmed on a plane full of Delluci’s.

Harry doesn’t wake her when they stop midway to get fuel. She wakes hours after he sleeps beside her, but she doesn’t wake him. Instead, she observes him for a little while; acknowledges the twitch in the corner of his lip, the little movement behind his eyelids, the gentle snores that tumble through his throat.

She appreciates his dark lashes fanned across his cheekbones, his ungodly waves. This version of him doesn’t look scary, doesn’t look monstrous. This version of Harry looks approachable, soft… dare she think… vulnerable. His jaw isn’t set and his lips aren’t pursed.

She wants to reach forward and caress his cheek, maybe one day she might.

When they land back in New York, a car is waiting for them; tinted windows and bulletproof glass. Y/N isn’t silly. Harry helps her with her bags, piling them into the trunk and they both clamber inside.

A partition separates the couple from the driver as the journey begins again. Y/N is looking out of the window, the soft evening consuming her but she already misses the Californian views.

“I recently had the penthouse redecorated to give you some sense of home there,” Harry tells her and when she turns, his eyes are already on her face.

“I want you to remember that it isn’t just a place that you live in. It’s your home now. I want you to treat it as such,” he says.

Y/N nods but she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say. How do you treat a place like a home when there’s no sense of safety?

“And as for security,” he catches her attention again before she can focus her gaze back outside the window.

“Mike will be your new guard. I’ve known him for years and he’s good. I trust him. If you want to go anywhere and I’m not around to go with you, Mike needs to be by your side.” Y/N can’t help the frown that grows on her face.

Not only is he entrusted with her life, but she doesn’t know him, she can’t trust him.

“Why can’t Gomez still be my guard? Why can’t he come here and guard me?” she questions, brows knitted.

Harry scratches his nose.

“Because while your Father trusted him in his territory, I wouldn’t trust him to protect you in mine. Where you go, Mike goes. No arguments.”

First order.

Neither of them say anything else for the remainder of the drive, but when the driver pulls up to a stop, Y/N’s eyes are wide as she stares out the window in awe.

A fifty story building stands tall before her, tucked between two slightly shorter builds. Her parents' home is massive, but this is something else.

This… this was an apartment building?

Harry doesn’t say anything as he walks her inside the lobby; everything is all white and pristine. The blonde receptionist behind the desk offers Harry a flirty smile that Y/N watches him completely ignore and something flips in her stomach. In the elevator, he reaches for the code and shows her the seven digits he punches in.

“We’re in the penthouse, right at the top. That’s the code. Only a select few know it, so don’t go telling everyone,” he warns, standing back as the doors close.

When they arrive at the penthouse, Y/N doesn’t know what to expect, but softwood undertones and fluffy rugs are not it. He guides her inside as she takes it all in.

The entirety of the first floor is open planned, white walls with gorgeous art hanging across them. The kitchen is huge, black and white and Y/N feels her heart flutter at the thought of all the baking she’ll be able to do.

She isn’t given much time to admire it before Harry leads her through the kitchen towards a staircase.

“There’s a library and a gym up here and our bedroom, my home office is up here too,” he says, leading her up the stairs and into a dark room.

He flips on the light as she follows him inside.

“Our room? You mean we’re going to share the bed every night?” there’s a twinge of panic in her voice.

Harry doesn’t think anything of it other than she’s innocent, nervous about sleeping with his body so close to hers every night. But that’s not it, at least, not all of it.

Really, Y/N doesn’t understand why he even wanted to sleep with her on their wedding night in the first place, and now he wants to share a bed with her for the rest of their lives?

She thinks it’s a pride thing, to have his wife sleep in the same bed as him. That has to be it. Because compared to Harry’s past lovers and flings that Maria graciously told her about, Y/N is repulsive – doesn’t compare.

“Yeah… why? Is that a problem for you?” he asks softly.

Y/N shakes her head quickly, clearing her throat and pulling her sweater sleeves past her hands.

“No, not at all… just didn’t think you’d want me in your bed, is all,” she admits, but she doesn’t mean it in the way Harry takes it. He smirks to himself though.

“You’re my wife, Y/N. I’ll always want you in my bed,” he flirts, watching as her cheeks blush in realisation of how she made her statement sound.

She clears her throat awkwardly and Harry places her bag on the bed.

“Anyway, make yourself at home. I have some business to attend to, so Mike will be around, but remember if you want to leave, he goes with you.”

He brushes past her without another word or a kiss to her forehead like he usually would to his mother or little sister. Y/N thinks nothing of it, she much prefers the space.

It isn’t until she begins unpacking one of her bags that she notices a wrapped gift on her nightstand with her name written on a note that sits on top of it.

You’re not a prisoner anymore x

With furrowed brows, she tears the paper off the gift and opens the box. A phone sits waiting for her, her family’s phone numbers saved along with Harry’s, Mike’s and Anne’s already. She feels tears sting her eyes and with a trembling thumb, she calls Maria.

In the week of Y/N’s new life, she’s grown accustomed to her new place of residence. She’s gotten used to the penthouse by now, knows where everything is if she needs anything.

She’s spent a fair amount of time in the kitchen (after the first few days of refraining from using anything), making cookies and brownies for her and Mike to snack on.

She’s mainly tucked herself away in the library, often draped across the chaise with a soft blanket and a good book.

That’s about all she’s grown accustomed to, though. She hasn’t seen her husband, at least, not properly. She’s been asleep when he gets home and asleep when he leaves.

Y/N tries to consider herself lucky. She’s thankful that she hasn’t had to interact with him, save for the two days in passing when he offers her a tightlipped smile before scurrying out of the door.

She doesn’t know why his lack of presence brings a sense of uneasiness, not after she’s gotten to know Mike just a little bit over the past seven days.

Y/N tries not to dwell on the fact that she knows Mike’s favourite frosting flavour but has no idea what her husband’s birthday is. She doesn’t know why part of her wishes to know Harry better, wishes for some type of emotional intimacy between them both.

Y/N knows she needs to accept the fact that she’s safe with how things are, not wish for possible problems that could endanger her in the long run.

But then, she supposes she’s never not been endangered, so what does she know? Maybe she wishes for the sense of comfortability with her new spouse because he’s already offered her something she’s never had before: safety.

Maybe she supposes safety and comfortability are meant to come hand-in-hand. Or maybe she’s just lonely, craves the intimacy she no longer has with her cousin.

Either way, she doesn’t get that relief of intimacy from Harry. Instead, she learns an odd quirk of Mike’s every couple of days and loses herself in the stories that occupy her mind.

The library has become somewhat of a safe haven. And despite having the means to remain in contact with Maria, Romero tends to keep his daughter on a tighter leash now and Y/N often worries with the wonder if it’s her fault.

She thinks Giovanni may have said something to intervene, and she’s been letting blame sit idly on her shoulders as the week slowly strolled past.

It’s been hard for Y/N. She’s been confined to the many walls of the penthouse, despite having the ability to leave (with Mike, of course, something Harry made very clear). But she doesn’t want to leave her new home with her guard.

She wants her husband to show her around and maybe show a little attention to her. She tells herself it’s because she needs the reassurance that she hasn’t done anything wrong, that she hasn’t upset him.

She needs him to do something that suggests he doesn’t have a reason to hurt her.

It’s fucked and she knows it. That hearing nothing is considered bad news to her. Y/N hates not knowing, hates uncertainty. She should be well used to it by now, that’s all her life has ever been.

But things are drastically different in New York with Harry, even if it’s only been a week and she hasn’t seen him.

It doesn’t matter that she feels lighter at the fact of no longer being in Giovanni’s reach or hold. She needs Harry to communicate. She needs to know she’s not doing anything wrong.

But Harry’s a busy man, has business to attend to and bullets to fire. He doesn’t have the time right now to reassure his virgin wife of anything.

And why should he?

Not only did she directly disrespect him but she somehow, someway crawled under his skin and made him grow defensive of the frail woman. Weakness is something he can’t afford.

But it’s not that he hasn’t wanted to.

Women cowering under his influence has never been something Harry has enjoyed, but she isn’t just any woman anymore; she’s his wife, bound by love and honour and duty, she’s his wife.

Perhaps she’s in the same boat. Putting a label on a relationship tends to force some sense of kindred feelings on people.

A marriage is the union between two undying souls, for kindred lovers and harnessed spirits. A marriage is a symbol of devotion, trust and love. Everything their relationship is not.

Maybe that’s why he silently observes her while she sleeps, making sure her breathing is steady and comfortable, and why she misses his presence when he’s gone and wants to know more.

Stories of other lovers are what seem to take her mind off things best, but also have her brain reeling and mustering up impossible scenarios in the light of day, encouraging them to run wild through her head in the dead of night.

Y/N doesn’t know whether to be thankful of them or not--whether it gives her a sense of false hope or weightless relief.

Today is no different from the past six. She wakes alone with no idea where Harry is or what he’s doing.

After her shower and getting ready for the day, she finds herself in the library, lounging across the chaise with Jane Eyre in her hands, but she can’t seem to grasp the words on the first page.

It’s with a sigh that Y/N puts the book back and allows her fingers to brush against the spines of endless stories and fantasies.

There’s not a speck of dirt on the pad of her finger when she comes to the end of the shelf and she wonders if it’s because Harry secretly loves to read or because a maid frequents.

She can’t help but suppose it’s the latter. The thought of Harry reading is somewhat amusing to Y/N, but she knows it’s not something she can just rule out. She doesn’t know the man.

She’s huffing with boredom when she’s ready to leave the room, but as her eyes flitter effortlessly across the clinically white bookcases, she catches something golden that’s tucked away at the far end of the room, shoved beneath a lip at the bottom of a case.

With a tilted head and gently furrowed brows, she goes to inspect it, pulling out a large photo album.

It’s dusty, looks like it hasn’t come out to reminisce old times in a while and Y/N blows the thick coating of fine powder off. There’s nothing but soft, intricate golden leaves designed and embroidered across the expanse of the outer book and it feels heavy in her hands.

Maybe not the weight of the book itself, but the weight behind it.

She doesn’t know what compels her to leave the library with it wrapped in her arms, what forces her to sit on the couch with it out in the open on the coffee table in front of her.

Y/N feels sick at herself for even opening it, she knows old photos are precious past memories that she suspects someone like Harry would not particularly wish to share with his new wife.

It doesn’t stop her from looking, though – doesn’t stop her heart from aching and swelling at the sight of a three-year-old Harry wandering around butt-naked in a backyard with a cheesy grin on his lips and a green bucket hat on his head.

She keeps looking; flipping the pages with a gentle smile but it quickly fades with one of slight confusion.

The only people in the almost hundred photos are the same three: Harry, Anne, and a mysterious man. Y/N’s never seen him before but he looks familiar, she can’t help but see traces of Harry in him.

She supposes maybe it’s Harry’s uncle; maybe even a family friend and Y/N’s just thinking too deep into it. She needs to stop allowing her mind to think everything to be a fucking conspiracy.

She wants to appreciate the pure vulnerability she’s able to see in regards to Harry, even if it is just through photos that are almost twenty years old – older than her.

She doesn’t know whether she’ll get to see a side of him that isn’t stone cold and doesn’t absolutely petrify her.

Knowing some part of him used to be young and innocent offers a sense of relief, a reminder that he has some sanity about him; whether he wants to admit it or not.

She gets to the end of the photo album when she learns the strange man's name. On the back of a photo of the unfamiliar face and Harry digging dirt in the garden, dressed in overalls with a beer in the man’s hand and a sippy cup in Harry’s, there’s a little note written in what she supposes is Anne’s calligraphy.

Danny and Harry -- summer 2000 x

Y/N finds herself mumbling his name under her breath, brows furrowed as she scours her brain. She’s heard that name before, she’s sure of it.

She doesn’t have much time to continue her mindful search before the creaking of the living room floorboards quirk in her ears and Mike is slowly swaying into the room.

He’s dressed in a slick suit, something that Y/N has tried to tell him isn’t necessary and he has ignored, and his hands are stuffed in his pockets with a stoic expression on his regularly threatening face.

“Where’d you find that?” his low voice asks and even though it’s just about audible, it manages to sound through the room and ricochet against the walls and beams.

Y/N nearly jumps in her skin, despite already knowing of his presence.

She feels no threat from Mike--she knows he’s here to protect her and both he and Harry have made that very clear--but he’s still very intimidating in the way his posture holds him and his general blank expression.

It’s something about his eyes. Icy blue but she knows something dark burns behind them.

She clears her throat and quickly closes the book, tucking loose curls behind her ear. Y/N pushes the album to the centre of the coffee table and sits further back on the couch, as if to make a point--she’s just not sure what point she’s trying to make or prove.

She clears her throat.

“Uh, I found it in the library,” she explains lamely and Mike notices she can’t make eye contact with him.

He also knows she isn’t lying.

Over the week he’s been guarding her, he’s learnt all her ticks and tells. Y/N isn’t a liar, she’s just constantly in fear and silently requires the reassurance that she hasn’t done anything to upset anyone.

Mike hums, nodding his head, knows she has more to say; he knows what photos are in that book.

“There’s uh, there’s a lot of pictures of Harry with his Mom and some man… Danny,” she says carefully, articulating her words in a way that isn’t going to seem out of place or something he’ll consider mentioning to Harry to have her scolded and punished.

“That’s for Harry to explain, if he ever wishes to,” he responds cooly, hands still shoved in his pockets but Y/N’s eyes are fixed on the book and she wonders if she has the balls to try and push further.

“It’s just… he looks like him, you know? Looks like he could be a relative,” she speaks freely, though her throat feels like it’s being constricted.

She tries to word it casually, like she’s making an innocent observation but they both know it’s more than that. Mike doesn’t say anything for a few moments, allowing her to understand that he isn’t about to say anything in regards to the photos.

“Are you missing yours?” He asks, her eyes meeting him with a frown and he shifts his weight from his feet, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest.

He clears his throat.

“Your family, I mean… are you missing them? I know it's a long way from sunny California,” he tries to lighten the mood for her sake; he doesn’t particularly want her to grow agitated with him for not telling her part of Harry's past.

Y/N purses her lips and maybe keeping quiet would’ve been a better idea but Mike tends to run his mouth before really thinking out situations that involve sad emotions.

“Not really. I feel safer here than I ever have back in Cali,” she admits through a pathetic laugh, like she’s trying to cover up the hurt.

“Your Dad?” he asks in a gentle tone, one she’s never heard before but she’s only known him a week.

She smiles weakly, nodding her head and Mike hums, adjusting his suit as he stands taller. Y/N’s gnawing at the inside of her cheek and picking at the skin around her nails -- nervous habits, Mike’s come to learn -- so he takes a step closer to her and clears his throat once more.

“Come on. Let me take you for lunch and show you around New York a little,” he offers, a hint of a smile on his lips but Y/N thinks she might be seeing things.

She isn’t used to this type of kindness from men of any ages. She frowns harder.

“Is that a good idea? Won’t Harry be mad?” she twists her hands nervously.

“Harry entrusted me with your life, Y/N. I’ll always keep you safe when he’s not here. And you’re not a prisoner anymore. He’ll never treat you like one.”

It’s a little after three when Harry feels a nervous twitch in his cheek and a tick in his fingers. He’s been gnawing on his bottom lip for the past twelve minutes and both Gemma and Anne have noticed.

His mother is concerned for him while his younger sister offers a look of disgust and is five seconds away from chastising her brother about how chapped his lips will be.

“As much as your sister and I want to stay, Harry… we can’t. You’re going to have to prove to Stefano that you can do this. We believe in you.”

Her gentle voice tries to coax him back into the room but the only thing that does is when the elevator sounds just seconds later and he stands from the couch.

Harry doesn’t fucking know what’s gotten him in such an aggy and irritated mood. His palms are sweaty and he doesn’t know why. He tells himself it’s because Y/N’s never been out before and that she and Mike have been gone for almost three hours.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust either of them; he trusts Mike with his life and he trusts that Y/N won’t try something stupid. Ideally, Harry would have liked to have been the one to take Y/N out first, maybe to prove something to the people watching his every move, he’s not sure.

Part of him feels a little guilty. He hasn’t seen her for more than five minutes since she moved to New York and he feels a little bit sick. He’s taken her from her family and everything she’s ever known.

As her husband, it should be his duty to care for her and ensure she doesn’t feel alone in this transitioning time. But Harry has to remind himself that this isn’t any regular marriage and there are no loving feelings shared between the two beneath their label.

But that doesn’t make it easier for Harry to try and understand why he feels the way he does about the matter.

When the elevator doors slide open, she’s got a shy smile on her lips and her shoulders are drooped in a relaxed state. The sight is a jolt of relief to Harry.

Wife or not, he never wants a woman to feel unsafe or intimidated in his presence or his men’s. He takes a brief moment to quickly get a good look at her.

She seems a lot lighter in the way she carries herself since she arrived at her new home. In a pretty beige pinafore with a ribbed white turtleneck underneath, she looks pretty -- very pretty.

Her hair falls in loose curls that sit just past her shoulders and her plump lips are painted pink with a subtle gloss.

When her eyes flitter up from her feet, she finally notices him watching her, a warmth rising to her cheeks and she shuffles in the penthouse behind Mike.

Her eyes are too glued on Harry, worried she may have done something wrong, for her to notice the presence of Anne and Gemma.

It isn’t until Anne is cooing at her and pulling her into a motherly embrace that she breaks her nervous gaze on her husband and shakily returns the hug to her mother-in-law.

“Was worried we wouldn’t see you before we left, love. Mike took you out for lunch, Harry said,” she smiles warmly, holding the girl by her shoulders and Y/N nods, lips pursed inwardly.

“Before you left? Where are you going?” she asks, ignoring the latter part of her question but she doesn’t mean to… she wonders if Harry will scold her for it when they leave.

Anne lets out a soft huff.

“Back to England, love. Now you’re married, Harry’s got his trial period as Capo to prove himself in the event Stefano is no longer able to reign as Capo,” she explains briefly, hands waving a seemingly dismissive manner, like she doesn’t much care for the topic.

But Y/N sees the glimmer of fear in her eyes.

She nods her head and smiles softly at the youngest Delluci who’s already gleaming up at her. Y/N doesn’t know what it is, but knowing Gemma appears to like her makes her feel a little more at ease.

“Will we be seeing you soon?” Y/N queries shyly, wondering if Anne can sense her need of having them around.

She does, and she reaches for the young girl's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“I hope so, darling.”

She zones out as Harry kisses their cheeks goodbye and sees them to the elevator, she’s too busy twiddling her thumbs and preparing herself for the numbing loneliness she'll be forced to face again tonight.

“Mike, you’re off for the night,” Harry’s low voice squeaks in her ears and Y/N’s head perks up, brows furrowed with sweaty palms.

“Do you not have work?” she blurts out before she can even think about what she’s doing.

Her face pales, head lowering as her gaze fixes on the floor. If she spoke like that to Giovanni, he would’ve kicked her to the ground by now.

Harry hates the way she quickly reels into herself, a vile taste on his tongue at the thought of her thinking he’d ever lay a hand on her like that.

He shakes his head and lowers his voice to a softer tone, ignoring the squinted look Mike gives him.

“Not tonight, I figured we could spend some time together,” he starts, dipping his head slightly as Y/N slowly raises hers to look up at him through mascara-coated lashes.

Mike bites back a smirk. In all his life, he’s known Harry to only ever use that soft tone with the women of his family: his mother and sister. He leaves the couple without another word and when Harry hears the elevator doors close again, he continues.

“I feel bad for not spending any time with you and leaving you all alone since we got here.”

Y/N feels part of her heart swell at his confession and she feels her cheeks blush harder than before. She offers a shy chuckle and shrugs her shoulders.

“Not all alone, Mike’s kept me a little company,” she’s nervous and she wonders if this is actually his way of making sure he gets laid tonight.

She doesn’t want to sleep with him again, doesn't want to go through the pain of remembering it this time.

She can feel herself beginning to panic, the sweat in her palms increasing by the second. Maybe if she plays along it won’t hurt so much, maybe he won’t be so hard on her.

She doesn’t want to think of him as such a person to do such a thing, but he’s a Made Man and Y/N is his wife. Her permission doesn’t matter.

He seems to notice her apprehension and takes a tentative step closer, trying to sag his shoulders to make himself look smaller; less intimidating.

“I thought maybe we could cook together? Get to know each other a little more,” he suggests and with a brief second of her gnawing on her inner cheek, she agrees.

They settle for making pizza. Harry’s kneading the dough as she stirs the tomato puree in a small bowl. She’s cut the pepperoni and mushrooms, a little plate full of peppers and spices ready to be sprinkled on when the dough is thick enough.

Y/N takes her time to admire Harry.

He’s got his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie long forgotten on the couch and the first few buttons by his collar are undone, dark and sparse chest hair peeking through.

He looks good, she can’t lie about it. And there's something about seeing an easy smile on his lips that makes him seem all the more normal, she finds herself feeling comfortable in his presence, safe.

In the hour of prepping, they’ve learnt little bits of information about each other. Harry learnt that Y/N’s favourite colour is yellow because it brings her a sense of light. She told him that her favourite movie is Romeo and Juliet, “Cliche, I know,” and that ever since she was little, books have been her little escape from how bad her home life has always been.

He learnt about her relationship with her brother when she was growing up and how it all fell to shit when he was initiated, when he sided with their Father and left her alone.

It isn’t all one sided with learning new information. Y/N learnt about Harry’s ability to hold his breath for seven minutes, how he taught himself to play the guitar at a young age, and as much as he was tempted to tell her he once killed a man with his guitar string, he didn’t.

He lets her revel in the innocence he offers her in sheltered childhood memories. Like how he used to read Gemma bedtime stories and train with Mike and Jeff every evening.

It’s when he mentions how he once made homemade pizzas with Anne when he was younger and she thinks he’s opening up to her.

She doesn’t understand that he only tells her these things to make her feel a little more comfortable. She mistakes his consideration for trust.

“I uh, I found some old photos in the library this morning. A bunch of ones of you and your Mom,” she begins in a shaky tone and Harry hums, sprinkling the cheese over the tomato based path she created for him.

She dares to snatch a peek at his face, fearing the worst -- but he’s calm and concentrated as he evenly distributes slices of pepperoni in the cheese’s wake.

“And there was a man in them, too. You look kinda like him, you know,” she continues, fiddling with a couple of olives between her fingers and she’s too caught in the way they roll against her fingertips to notice his mood falter and body stiffen.

So she continues.

“Is he your uncle? I didn’t see him at uh, at the wedding,” she cranes her neck just enough to wince at his reaction and he’s sprinkling chopped onions and mushrooms with a little more force than he did with the cheese.

Y/N swallows.

“No. He was my father,” he tells her.

His voice is rough and short -- a quip, less than a casual reply. Y/N frowns at his bluntness and the new information, dropping the olives in the ceramic bowl and twisting to face him.

“What?” she asks, brows furrowed. “But I thought that—“

“That Stefano is my Father? No, my step-father. Why else do you think you and I are Styles-Delluci?”

His replies are short and blunt and he doesn’t miss the way she sinks into herself out of fear and embarrassment. Nothing more is said on the matter, Harry opting to change the subject and attempting to lighten the mood to the best of his ability, but Y/N doesn’t budge.

He’s come to learn that when she fears she’s upset someone or gotten herself in some kind of trouble, she tends to bottle herself up and doesn’t allow forgiveness upon her.

Or maybe it’s that she doesn’t believe the forgiveness is ever genuine and Harry starts to wonder if she’s ever even been forgiven before. The thought rattles something unsettling within the pit of Harry’s stomach.

They wait for the food to cook in silence and eat in silence, opposite ends of the dining table. Y/N keeps her gaze on her food while Harry keeps his gaze on her, but neither says a word.

Harry cleans the dishes while she showers and as they climb into bed together for the first time since she’s been there, their backs stay faced to the other as sleep consumes them.

omg please do let me know what you think so far of the series? the next part is out next week and it's another long one, too. feedback is massively appreciated!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines

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bleedingoptimism · 5 months

Text

They hear the ‘ding’ of the elevator as they walk inside the very luxurious building and Robin grabs Steve’s hand and makes them run to the door yelling, “Hold! Please!”

A hand covered in rings and with short nails painted black appears from inside and holds the door for them. They get in as Robin breathes out little ‘thank yous’ under her breath and Steve smiles at the gentleman who helped them. His brows go up a little at how handsome the man is. He’s wearing black dress pants and a black silk shirt under an also black suit jacket. The whole look is expensive and the man wears it very well. With his long curly hair tied at the back of his neck, plus the rings, the nails, and the surprising amount of piercings in his ears, he looks like a rockstar. He has a cute nose and full lips that look very enticing and big beautiful brown eyes that are looking back at him.

Steve smiles once more and nods politely figuring he should stop staring. They have to go up like a billion floors or something so this is going to be a long elevator ride. Probably shouldn’t make their traveling companion uncomfortable.

He distracts himself by looking at Robin, fixing her hair behind her ear. She looks great. Slack pants and a tight dress shirt in grey tones with black suspenders adorned with metal cufflinks. Short hair loose and just the right amount of disheveled and a graphic eyeliner so sharp it could cut you. He would know. He did her makeup. They were asked to dress party chick but professional, which neither of them knew what the hell meant but Steve is pretty sure Robin nailed it. He just hopes he did a good job too.

He’s wearing a white thigh shirt of a soft material he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of and black dress pants, the ones that fit him like a second skin, paired with a big leather belt, just to add a little extra. He tries to inconspicuously check himself out in the mirrors of the elevator but accidentally meets eyes with the well-dressed man again. Who adverts his gaze quickly and Steve realizes he just caught him checking him out. He smiles to himself and looks down bashfully only to be horrified by what he notices because, his white shirt? The stupid fabric he can’t name? Totally sheer. Well not totally, but a little. Like he can see his nipples right now a little.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Robin, we need to go.” he suddenly says grabbing Robin by the back of the elbow.

Robin turns to him previously just nervously watching the floor numbers change and frowns worried, “What? We are already here, Steve! What do mean?”

“I need to go home and change Robin! I can’t-” He whispers to her, although he knows it’s in vain, there’s no way the handsome man isn’t about to hear a very embarrassing conversation.

“We are literally in the elevator. We are not going back home so you can change!” Robin huffs annoyed now that she knows it wasn’t anything more serious, “What’s wrong with your clothes?” she asks pinching his shirt between her fingers.

Steve turns his back to the man and crowds Robin, facing her, “Can you see my nipples?” he asks trying to keep his voice low but he hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle behind him.

Robin looks at him like he’s lost his mind but, as always she goes with it, “Yes?”

Steve puts his palms over them and gasps and Robin starts laughing “What are you doing?” she says between giggles at the same time Steve exclaims, “I can’t show our new boss my nipples!”

“Steve, what?! I thought it was on purpose! You know, just a peek, a little chess hair, a little nipple.” Robin says still laughing but stops when she sees Steve is looking actually distressed.

She huffs and runs her hands up and down his arms comfortingly.

“Why would I want to show them my nipples!” Steve groans and Robin shrugs.

“It’s sexy? We were asked to dress for a party”

“Why would I want to look sexy for work?” Steve asks again, still trying to convince Robin to let him go home and change.

But Robin tilts her head to the side, “But you can’t turn that off, though? Like, you are always sexy.”

Instantly his mood changes and he smiles and coos at her, “Aww, that’s so sweet, babe! But you are biased…”

Robin scoffs at being babied and raises an eyebrow, “How am I biased?”

“Because you love me!” Steve answers like it’s obvious. And Robin nods as if taking in the information.

“Okay. I see your biases and I raise you the following point: It’s objective. Because I’m a lesbian.”

Steve laughs, but he’s not the only one. For a second, Steve had forgotten they had an audience member. A very handsome audience member. He blushes, the guy must think he’s such an idiot. But at least he thinks they are funny. He turns back to his side and smiles at him again.

But Robin suddenly jumps a little beside him, like she had just noticed him, and says, “Stranger! Opinion?”

“Rob, no-” Steve starts but Robin leans over him to talk to the man, “Shirt. Good? Bad?” She says moving her hands in front of Steve as if she was showcasing him. Steve blushes some more and tries to keep a neutral face. So he ends up just white-man smiling awkwardly.

The man chuckles again and then looks at Steve from top to bottom and back again, “You look good,” he says smirking.

And Steve's blush deepens. But Robin either doesn’t notice or is enjoying it, because she keeps questioning him, “Good. What are thinking? Slutty or sexy?”

The man leans his head to the side, his eyes roaming over Steve's chest and Steve has to resist the urge to cover his nipples again.

“It’s sexy.” he says, voice deep and serious as if this was an important conversation and not Robin and Steve being dumbasses, “Like, sophisticated sexy.”

Steve shakes himself to try to make his blush go away and addresses the man, “I- well, thank you, first. And second, I’m sorry you were dragged into this. But would you want to look sexy meeting your new boss?” he asks him.

He taps his chin in thought and then says, “Your friend is right though, are already here. Just don’t flirt with them and you'll be fine!”

At that Steve purses lips and Robin snorts rudely. “That might be a problem,” she says.

The man laughs surprised and Steve can’t help but think he has a really nice laugh, “How?” he asks them.

“Steve has a little miscommunication problem,” Robin explains, “When he tries to be charming people think he's flirting.”

Steve crosses his arms and huffs making the few locks that fall on his forehead lift a bit and fall back down, “I have no idea what I’m doing wrong! I’m just trying to be nice..”

The man is looking at him with raised eyebrows and he blinks a couple of times before snickering, “Looks like your friend is right, again. You just can’t turn sexy off, uh?”

Robin laughs really hard at that and Steve goes back to full tomato status.

“I could've tried!” he says, not even sure what are they arguing about anymore.

“How?” Robin asks him amused.

“I don’t know, a big sweater? Something knitted, comfy?” he tries but they both shake their head at him.

“That sounds sexy too,” The man says and Steve frowns,

“Literally. How?”

“It gives off fuck vibes. Like you are really fuckable,” he says, and then his eyes go wide and he bites his lips.

Robin’s eyes go wide too and she snorts, looking at Steve who is just staring at the guy with his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Sorry!” the man says, raising his hands in mock surrender, “That was so out of line- I- oh! Saved by the bell it seems,” he says when the elevator dings, “This is my floor”

The doors open and Argyle and Jon are on the other side and Steve realizes, this is also their floor.

“Eddie!” Argyle says as the man moves towards him and they shake hands enthusiastically.

“Steve, Robin” Jon greets them with a smile as they slowly walk out of the elevator, watching Eddie’s deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“Ah! I hope you had a pleasant elevator ride and didn’t do anything awkward!” Argyle jokes completely oblivious, “I’m a little sad I didn’t get to introduce you guys!”

“...What do you mean?” Robin asks with a forced smile.

“Steve, Robin: This Eddie Munson!” Argyle says moving behind Steve and Robin and hugging them by the shoulders so they stand directly in front of Eddie, “Your new boss!”

#stranger things #steddie #meet cute #but awkward #kinda #i wrote something #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve is bringing sexy back (yeah)#eddie doesnt know how to act (yeah)

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sexysadie23 · 13 days

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚Lady Killer ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rafe Cameron

Tags | Bestfriend!Rafe Cameron x innocent!reader

Synopsis | Despite having moved to Figure 8 on Kildare in your early teens, you never had many friends. Certainly not in the kook academy, the only place you really had the chance to. But upon attending one of your parents’ country club events, the island suddenly doesn’t seem so lonely.

Warnings | Underage drinking and drugs - misogynistic comments (more exciting things to come in the series!)

Note | This is my first time writing a Rafe fic! This will be just a one shot of how these two characters met, but I will be making this a series eventually! I do include certain elements to reader ie. Being an only child and ‘doe eyes’. If you don’t like that - don’t read it! Reader is like so cute and obsessed with Rafe and he’s like wtf okay?

——————————— ୨୧ ————————————

For a long time, you thought there was something explicitly wrong with you. You’d moved a couple times in your life, so you’d never really had friends which stuck. You were simply just a phase in other kids your ages’ lives, only to be remembered as ‘that girl which was in our grade’.

It was lonely for a while, and you had learnt to find comfort in the little things. Friday nights in watching your favourite movies, reading in the library at lunch, the birdsong on the walk home from school. Yet moving to Kildare seemed to be where your parents finally decided for you set up camp, and you’d sparked an iota of hope that this is where you would find your people.

Your parents were moderately well off, though certainly not as rich as some families seemed to be at your new home. But you had always had the essentials. On top of them however, was a nice home, a vacation at least once a year and never any need for a part time job. After all, being the only child your parents wanted you to focus solely on your studies at the Kildare Academy, otherwise known as ‘Kook Academy’ - why, you didn’t know really.

You’d never had to wear a uniform before. You were so excited though at 14 years old - wearing your mary janes and blazer which was slightly too big. Your pink JanSport backpack which was bulkier than necessary, a Winnie The Pooh keychain dangling off of it.

“Mom, do you think they’ll like me?” The unadulterated hope in your eyes made your mother smile. She worried about you sometimes. With your wide eyes and kind heart, she feared you were too trusting, sheltered for your age.

“Just be your sunny self, sweetie and they will love you.”

But that was not what happened.

You tried, honestly you tried to make friends. Still nothing seemed to stick. People at the academy had been there for years, with it being a relatively small school full of people from Figure 8 with pre-established friend groups and social standing. You’d entered at an age where teenagers were enraptured with what their peers thought of them, and the girls at the school only judged you for your lack of designer handbag or lack of makeup, lack of status - or whatever problem they could seem to find.

You even came back to the gym lockers to change only to find ‘Chanel’ written over the exed out ‘Jansport’ of your bag. Your mother was infuriated, and insisted you use one of her designer bags to fit in.

You denied, however much you wanted to and were somewhat materialistic, you knew they would just call it a fake or find some other way to deface it. You’d simply washed the backpack, and continue to use it until graduation 2 months ago.

Summer vacations were hard for you. When you saw so many others at parties in big mansions or even on the other side of the island, ‘the cut’ as you learned, or people surfing with their friends, it only served as a reminder of your solitude. So much so that you had resigned to reading in your garden, window shopping online or following your parents around.

This included Midsummer’s. It was a sort of soiree to celebrate…well, actually you weren’t sure what. Being rich, it seemed? That’s what it looked like, as you sat there in your pink tulle ankle length dress, flowers woven throughout your hair tied simplistically with a white ribbon. You idly watched, sipping on a bottle of coca cola as your dad talked business with a fellow doctor from the island.

Obviously, there were kids from the academy there. Many of which you had just graduated with, and all of which were ignoring you - or just didn’t realise you were here. You never pondered too much on your friendlessness, looking at the positives in your life rather than the negatives.

The atmosphere at the party was thriving, and you adored the pageantry. One lady in particular, a blonde fussing over a curly haired tween with glasses was wearing an extravagant headpiece which looked like it could poke out your eye. A girl from the academy around your age stood nearby, wearing white with flowers in her hair as well. She looked pretty, but being from the academy you knew to keep your distance.

It was starting to wear you out, the fact that nobody had asked you a question in 45 minutes. Then and there, you’d decided to at least explore the venue, which had waiters and bar staff scuttling in and out every so often.

“Hi- excuse me.” You tap such a boy on the shoulder, and he swings round to meet you with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes. “Would you happen to know where the ladies’ bathrooms are?”

He looks somewhat startled, as if he doesn’t actually know what you asked him. “What? Um, sure thing. Just uh- this way my lady.” He nods, in a somewhat boyish way, and leads you to the patio where you follow him through to where the ‘Ladies’ sign hangs on the door.

“Thank you so much, um…” you were selectively shy, but still had manners.

He grins. “JJ - Maybank.” He winks, before he sees something behind you, a blue jacket from whose owner rumbles,

“The hell’s the pogue doing here?”

The blonde smiles at you before dashing off, leaving you to the bathroom where you rearrange the ribbon in your hair and add some extra lip gloss.

You’d hid out there for about 10 minutes, not wanting to return to a party you were already invisible at.

The door to the ladies oscillated as you walk out, determined on telling your parents that you weren’t feeling well and wanted to return home. It sounded better than sitting here, suffocating in your own silence as you watched people from your grade slip each other sips of brandy while they laughed and joked with one another.

You walked past a locker room of sorts, and saw the very same blue jacket from your peripheral before. He appeared to be roughed up: shirt crinkled, a bit of blood on his nose which he held up to the ceiling.

It was curious, but sad to you. Maybe he was bullied like you too? Though you had never been physically assaulted. He looked a similar age to you, but even sitting down seemed much taller. Bigger in general, as his shoulders strained against his tux jacket.

You returned to the ladies and got some tissue from the dispenser. Before entering the locker room, you hesitated. Maybe he would be mean like the other rich kids. But your father’s doctor in you couldn’t let him sit and suffer.

“Hi, are you okay?”

Not looking at you, the boy- man, should you say replies, “God, Sarah I’m fine. Don’t fuckin’ tell dad about this shit alright? I don’t need him hounding me again.” His deep voice reverberated. Despite the harsh language, the smooth drawl was distinct. You liked it.

Your eyebrows furrow, confused at whoever he thought you were. “M’ not- I just came to give you this. You look hurt.” At the hand which was pinching his nose, and failing to stop the stream of blood - you shove a bunch of tissues into.

His eyes widen at the sudden handful of tissues and he lowers his head to look at you properly. He looks you up and down, realising that you are very clearly not his annoying sister.

“Oh, right. Sorry, thought you were my sister but uh, I’m a little bit…out of it right now.” He winced as he sniffled and tried to get the words out, happy that the blood seemed to be absorbing and steadily stopping. “Thanks for, you know this.” He said, gesturing with his free hand to his nose.

It was odd. He seemed weirded out that someone offered him help.

Happy that he didn’t tell you to go away like the other people from the Academy, you sat down beside him with a smile. He looked at you as though you were a bit crazy, but you attributed that to the bruise which was forming on his nose.

“You’re welcome!” You gave him your name, excited at the possibility of making a new friend. “What’s your name?”

This man, in the blue tux and white shirt which had splatters of blood on it now, looked increasingly confused at your eager demeanour. His immediate thought was that you wanted to fuck or hit a bump, given his reputation- yet you asking his name dispelled that thought. You really had no idea who he was. He was pleased about that, for some odd reason.

He could tell by your flouncy dress that you were definitely not a Pogue - thank god - but Midsummer’s was an exclusive islander event, so the other idea of being a touron was out. If not a pogue or a vacationer, then who the hell were you?

“I’m Rafe.” He said. The corner of his mouth twitched, finding it comical how he’s leaving his last name out. He needed to figure out if you had an ulterior motive or something. As most girls, even some of his friends- heck even his own father, often did.

You blushed at his eye contact, you’d never seen such a handsome boy.

He sniffled his nose and winced once more, holding his hand out for you to shake. Truth be told, he found this interaction hilarious. It wasn’t often that people didn’t know his name, or who his father was.

“Rafe.” You whispered, testing it out. “I like it.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Do you live on Kildare?” You asked, though you quickly felt stupid because you were pretty sure everyone at this party did.

“Yeah, yeah I do- look are you looking to hit up a bump or something? I don’t got anything on me right now.” He cut straight to the point. As much as he appreciated the tissues, he had to go and fuck up that Pogue.

This boy, he kept leaving you confused. “M’ sorry, I don’t know- a bump?” What was he talking about? You were only trying to help.

“Yeah princess. A bump. Coke?” He asked, looking equally as confused as you are. He couldn’t imagine why someone would wander into the club’s male locker rooms, not wanting anything no less. It wouldn’t matter anyhow, Barry’s been fucking around and sampling a little too much to get any product pushed at all.

You smile, suddenly understanding his generous offer. “Oh no it’s okay! I already got one the bar but I don’t like to have too many because it’s bad for your teeth.” You supplied, ever the daughter of a doctor and a dentist.

Yet Rafe Cameron sat there, rather stunned. He couldn’t figure out if you were stupid or just sheltered. Half the people his age at this party were already high, or certainly on their way there. Either way, he didn’t really have time to sniff that out.

He chuckled at your obliviousness. “O..kay. Yeah uh- look, I don’t really-”

“Ooh, pretty. Can I?” You got distracted easily, by the stacked rings adorning Rafe’s - very manly - hands. Not awaiting his answer, you grabbed his free hand and started spinning a ring round his finger. This particular ring was a class ring, fairly large and engraved with the wheat symbol.

He was very weirded out by how forward you were being. You looked like you were wearing princess peach cosplay : pink flouncy dress, kitten heels which couldn’t be ignored and a melodic voice that was almost soothing. So what the hell did a cute thing like you want from him?

“Most of em’ are heirlooms, you know generational.” He replied. It was like he wasn’t allowed to have his own hand back, seeing as it had become your new fixation. He felt as though he had a phantom limb, it was there but it sort of just had to sit limp until you were done with it.

“Is it real gold?”

“Course it is.” He smirked. He wouldn’t be caught dead with disingenuous jewellery.

“So pretty.” You whisper to yourself again, seemingly mesmerised by such a beautiful design. You blushed at his very masculine (why did you keep fixating on that?) hands, with lots of veins.

“Veiny…” you ran your fingers along one of his many veins. Then you looked at your own and just saw slightly chubby, much smaller than his, hands.

“Why do you have more veins than me?” You wondered aloud.

“Well, I don’t know don’t guys have like - more muscle n’ shit? I play golf sometimes too. Lotta handiwork.” Rafe shrugged. One thing he did not expect at Midsummer’s, a fucking bore fest every year, was to be interrogated about his veins and have his bling closesly inspected.

“Oh! Here? At the country club?” You ask, a glimmer of hope striking your eyes.

“Couple times a week if I can.”

You nodded. Maybe this Rafe could be your friend!! Because, “I just got enrolled at the country club too. My dad says I need to get out more…maybe I’ll play tennis. Or golf! Like you.” You were not one for exercise, but you can’t simply stay at home all day every day.

“I mean- that shit’s more like a guy thing in the club. Most chicks just go to the brunch or the sauna.” He says, being honest. It’s mostly just housewives who like the spa and gym facilities.

That dejected you. “Oh.” You said, looking down and finding his hands again.

Rafe noticed this and felt a twinge of guilt; “But, y’know, maybe you could still try it out. They got teachers n shit to help you.”

He was glad to see the smile return to your face at that. “I dunno. Just need to do something this summer.” Other than reading or dwelling on how your parents couldn’t hang out with you. It was becoming pathetic.

Rafe’s bleeding had finally stopped so he threw the tissue in the trash. “Is my nose all fucked up?” He asked. “My dad’ll kill me if he sees I got in a fight.”

Upon inspection of his face, you realised that he was very handsome. Perfectly symmetrical with a good jawline. “Uh-uh,” you replied. “S’ just a lil’ red. Like a reindeer.”

He smiled at the comparison, looking to the ceiling as he poked and prodded his nose. “Okay, it ain’t broken so that’s good.”

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’d you get in a fight with? Is someone bullying you?” You question with conviction in your voice, full of compassion and sympathy. That made the Cameron smile a genuine smile. Not many people cared or paid mind to his antics. Never had he been seen as the victim before either.

He laughed at the idea of someone bullying him. He was a Cameron - he was untouchable. The scrunch of your eyebrows which indicated your genuine worry for him was rather endearing though.

“Bullied? Nah. S’ just- s’ just these freakin’ Pogues y’know? Can’t trust em’, even on our side of the island.” He shook his head, turning to face you more on the bench. He got viscerally agitated at the mention of these ‘pogues’, whoever they were.

“Pogues?” You question. You’ve lived here for roughly three years and have never heard of this group. Were they a band?

Rafe noted your confusion once more. “Yeah, from the cut. Just a bunch of lowlifes and basket cases. Don’t associate with them, okay?”

You appreciated how he was giving you advice. No one ever really told you the ins and outs of Kildare, so you were grateful for his guidance. “O-okay. How do I know who is a Pogue?” You wondered.

“Well y’know. They’ll prolly try and steal from you. They look roughed up a lot. Not a lot of money on that side of the island.”

“Ohh. Okay. If they’re Pogues then what are we?”

He looked you up and down - yeah you were definitely part of that ‘we’. “I guess they’d call us kooks. Kooks and pogues sort of don’t mix. S’ why they’re on the cut and we’re here on figure 8 y’know. They just forgot tonight to stick to their land.”

Your eyebrows scrunched up, “So the Pogues beat you up? Should I talk to them?”

Rafe Cameron let out a closed mouth laugh as he was becoming increasingly endeared with your naïveté. Moreover, the way you seemed to truly care. Your big wide eyes focused on him as he considered how to answer.

“I mean they tried. You should see the other guy. But uh- nah. Don’t bother talking to them. They’re pretty set in their ways. Don’t bother going to the cut either. Nothing there for a girl like you.” He warned. He could only imagine the ways a guy like JJ Maybank could take advantage of you and your obvious innocence.

“Alright. Thanks for the advice Rafe.” You gave a tentative smile and blush. This Rafe was really handsome. You could tell from beneath his shirt and jacket that he was muscular. The way his thighs strained against his suit. His neck which had veins branching out all over and a prominent adam’s apple.

He nodded while pursing his lips. He went to speak but a figure appeared at the door.

“Rafe man, cmon’ let’s get out of here. Sarah’s ignoring me and the Pogues crashed. We need to go.” A boy wearing a similar suit to Rafe was. He was tall and blonde, but definitely not as cute as Rafe was! Not to you anyways.

“Uh,” Rafe looked at you and then to his friend. He looked like he wanted to say something. “Y-yeah Top m’ coming. Jus’ meet me outside alright? Shit’s in the glove compartment.”

You saddened at the thought of your new friend leaving. You were just getting to know each other!

He turned back to you and assessed you one more time. Doe eyes met his as you waited for him to speak.

“Maybe I’ll see you around huh? At the club or something.”

Your smile gleamed once more as the prospect of seeing Rafe again. He was just so nice and helpful! You were definitely going to have to use that membership now. Your head moved up and down to indicate a shy yes.

He smirked as he stood, looking down as you remained on the bench. From this angle, he looked just so much bigger. Like a predator eyeing its prey as he loomed over you.

“Alright then. Remember what I said, no pogues.” He warned again, sniffing his nose.

You nodded, still not fully understanding but trusting this Rafe guy’s word. He seems smart. “No Pogues.” You echo back, effectively bringing out his boyish grin.

“Okay, good. Good girl. I’m gonna go so just enjoy the rest of the party okay? Be seein’ you.” He said as he exited the room backwards, jutting his chin towards you before taking off entirely.

There was a fuzzy feeling brewing in your stomach. Glee. It was pure, unadulterated glee. What had started out as a boring party had turned into a monumental moment for you. You’d just made your first real friend on Kildare. And he hinted that he would want to see you again! And he was super pretty and muscular and tall! Though you didn’t know what that had to do with it.

You decided that you’d go home and go shopping for some country club outfits. Something to make you look cute, probably pink. You wilted at the thought of actually trying to learn golf, but if it meant you could maybe one day play with Rafe - then you would do it.

You just couldn’t wait.

——————————— ୨୧ ————————————

Author’s Note : Ahhh! My first fic. I love reader she is just so cute and wholesome like LOL she thinks this guy wants to be her friend. Later in this series she’s really only comfortable w Rafe since he is basically her only friend and is super shy w other people. This was just to set up and show how they met!! I hope you enjoyed :-D

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #rafe obx #bsf!rafe #rafe outer banks #obx x reader #dark!rafe cameron #soft!rafe cameron #bunny girl #bunny reader #innocent!reader #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fic

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flipidifloppody · 3 months

Text

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱/ 𝐦.𝐬

summary: you and the sturniolos have been best friends since you were born due to your moms being close friends. it's your 19th birthday and your having a massive house party. when it comes to the sturniolos coming over matt randomly keeps staring over..

‼️warnings‼️: smut (quite abit). pet names (ma, baby etc) swearing, alcohol.

I have been best friends with the sturniolos for 18 years now, my closest one of them all being matt. We were so close no one could seperate us, ever since we were kids. It was my 19th birthday and I am having a party at this resort house my mom booked for me. Loads of kids from school and outside of school was coming. There is gonna be alcohol and probably drugs if people bring it. Idk. But it was now two o'clock and i needed to start getting ready before it hits 5:30pm. I hopped in the shower and began to wash my hair thoroughly trying to look my best for the party. I'm so nervous it's unreal. I continue to wash my self and quickly jump out the shower and wrap a towel round me and sit down on my desk.

I began to prep my face by doing my skincare adding primer invetween that too. I then began to do my makeup. A few hours later, it was now 4pm i was just in the middle of picking out my outfit still in my towel when i got a notification from instagram, i quickly opened it to see who it was or if it was something for the party.

@matthew.sturniolo

hey what time is the party?

uhm sometime around half five ?

yeah sound fine see you later then

bye matt see ya

I start sliding on the dress that i picked out. A black satin dress that fit my body perfectly. As i slipped the straps over my shoulders I looked down at my dress then smoothed it out with my hands abit then pairing the dress with a pair of black high heels that went well with the dress. I stood in front of my full body mirror and stared at myself for a minute before running my fingers through my curled hair loosing it out abit. I smiled at myself in the mirror as i picked up my black juicy couture purse, clutching it in my hands as i turned the knob of my door and walked out of it.

I hopped into my car and put in into reverse as i was going to the place of the party to set up and lay out everything perfectly. I had called matt over to help me since he had offered before hand.

I pulled into the driveway of the massive house that my mom had rented out. I felt so special knowing that all this was just for my birthday. I then saw a familiar face standing in the doorway waving for me to come over to him. matt. I quickly picked up my pace as i walked steadily in my high heels over to him.

'you look beautiful' matt said as he was looking me up and down slightly looking down more than up.

i smile and say 'you don't look to bad yourself'

he was wearing a black ransom t-shirt and some blue loose jeans with his car keys jangling on the belt hole.

we both laughed together for a while as we were talking about our life and how long it's been since we've all seen each other and hung out together

'you know i really missed you y/n' matt blurted out

i smile at the comment and my cheeks flush a baby pink 'i missed you too matt , quite allot actually'

'well we better head inside and start to decorate huh?' he suggested i quickly nodded as he took my hand and basically dragged me inside. When we walked in i we in shock as i looked at the high ceilings with balconies on the second floor looking down to the first. It was beautiful.

after a while all the decorating was done it was around twenty past five and i heard cars start to pull into the drive.

there was a knock at the door. i quickly grabbed the handle and turned it to reveal most of my friends. i greeted them and let them in and started to turn on the music and get ready for what i thought was going to be a 'normal' party

it has been a while since the party had started now, but i decided to head upstairs into one of the spare bedrooms to rest my head abit as it was really noisy downstairs. the music quickly muffled when i was walking into the first room which was free. Most of them were taken because i'm pretty sure people were fucking in there or some shit. I got in the room and was quick to kick if my heels and practically jump onto the bed. I was sat down peaceful when i heard some muffled bangs and crashes in the en-suite next door

i decided to go in there since i was curious. When i walked in i saw matt sat on the floor of the bathroom with his phone in one hand and in the other hand was him stroking himself.

my mouth completely dropped.

As his head flung back against the bathtub with his eyes squeezed shut he started muttering something under his breathe which oddly sounded like my name

this couldn't be happening right now. we have been best friends for years. after a second of standing in complete shock i finally spoke up. 'matt..?'

he looked up at me in complete disbelief 'oh.. shit i'm so sorry y/n i'm really s-'

i cut him off by kissing him passionately adjusting myself onto his lap whilst putting more depth into the kiss.

as soon as it broke matts jaw was swung open. it was like he had seen a ghost. Moments after he was quick to turn us over pinning me to the cold floor and quickly lifted my tight dress to the bottom of my chest.

'always wanted to do this to you ma' he said before shoving two fingers in me causing me to scream out and take a clump of his hair into my fists.

'f-fuck matt'

he quickly sped up his pace while grasping onto my thighs with his free hand

'you like this huh?'

i was quick to nod as he pulled his fingers out when i was just about to reach my orgasm. he chuckled to himself as i threw a straight face right at him signalling to him i was now pissed off

'why the fuck matt?'

'yeah yeah i'm sorry baby'

he quickly stuck his fingers in his mouth licking them clean and taking them out with a 'pop'

i had my eyes shut and was quick to open them at the sound of a belt unbuckling

he took his dick out as it sprung against his chest and stoked himself a few times before lining up with me

'you ready ma?'

'fuck.. yes matt'

he quickly slammed into me staying still for a minute whilst i adjusted to his size. i gave him a nod signifying to him that he could pick up his face. Trust me he was quick with that. i instantly screamed out and grasped onto his shoulders for support as my legs wrapped around him letting him hit me from a different angle. His tip basically kissing my cervix as he thrusted into me.

i screamed out as he put his hands over my mouth to try and prevent people from downstairs to know what was happening.

'now baby you don't want them hearing now do you huh?'

i shook my head no before rolling my eyes to the back of my head and clenching around him

'fuck baby if you keep clenching around me like that i won't last much longer'

'matt i'm gonna cum'

'cum all over my cock ma i wanna see your pretty face aswell'

with those words of relief i let out realesing all over his dick he wasn't long after as he pulled out and shot white strips of his hot cum onto my chest

he collapsed on top of me making sure not to put much weight on me

'you okay baby' he said sweetly whilst caressing my cheek and kissing it lightly

i nod my head gently

'cmon let's get you cleaned up and i'll run you a bath aswell'

i just smile at him whilst getting up.

@astrolynnworld @strawberrysturniolo @lovingmattysposts @lovingchrissposts @plasticferal @sturniololoverr

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 5 months

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false god - m. murdock

a/n: sorry if this is bad i did my best because i have been thinking about him a lot warnings: cursing, smut, cunninglus (reader recieving), exhibition (kind of?) matt has an oral fixation, praise, premarital activites, reader is deaf and uses hearing aids but it's only mentioned once, if i missed any let me know! word count: 1.8k summary: the night before your wedding, you and matt are starving. you want to order room service, matt wants to eat out. pairing: matt x fem!reader now playing: false god - taylor swift "but we might just get away with it/religion's in your lips/even if it's a false god/we'd still worship/we might just get away with it/the altar is my hips"

When the devil finally proposed to you, he did it amongst flames and darkness.

…

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that.

Matt had proposed to you in the empty office of Nelson, Murdock & Page where you had met, with the lights turned down and candles lighting up the air around you. It was romantic, just as the two of you deserved.

Planning took a long time, too, with flowers, dresses and food taking over your every thought.

But now, all of that was done. There was nothing to be worried about anymore, as you and Matt specifically requested that if anything were to go wrong, Foggy and Karen would take care of it the best they could and not alarm the two of you unless someone was either dying or threatening to kill you.

So, in less than twenty-four hours, you would be Mrs. Matt Murdock, doomed to a life of lawyer jargon and patching up wounds, with no way out. The thought made you giddy.

The ceremony was going to be held at the church, but the pair of you had moved in with each other a long time ago, so it felt weird to try and avoid each other the night before the wedding and the morning in your own apartment. So, you and your future husband, as well as your small wedding party, had booked a few rooms in a hotel near the church.

You both had your respective ‘last hurrah’ a few weeks prior, so there was really nothing to do after the rehearsal dinner other than head to your room and relax, waiting for your alarm to go off to start getting ready.

You had decided to take it easy, enjoying a glass of wine after what you deemed to be an ‘everything’ shower, taking all the necessary precautions to feel like your best self on your wedding day. You had even bought yourself a nice silk pajama set, white, just like your rehearsal dress, and just like your wedding dress.

Your wedding dress hung freshly steamed in the closet of the hotel room, your shoes placed neatly beneath it. Your jewelry and accessories were laid out neatly on the dresser across from the bed. Your wedding ring sat in a box, inscribed with your husband’s name on it. He sat next to it, your name in braille on the inside of the ring.

In the morning, your mom, your sister, Karen, Marci and the woman who had been doing your hair and makeup for every major life event would be there, coffee in Karen’s hands, as your soon to be husband and his best friend got ready together, reminiscing on how they had landed themselves here.

Everything was perfectly set in place. Your job now was to just get married, and really, how hard could that be?

So, with your wine, you tuck yourself into bed with full intentions of getting a good night’s rest in your silky bridal pajamas.

Except, your job was almost done. There were no more seating arrangements to make, no one else to chase after for an RSVP, no more fittings, and no more menus to create to adhere to you and your soon to be husband’s particular tastes.

So, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t stressed at all.. Which left you with one conclusion:

You missed Matt.

You had seen him a few hours ago for the rehearsal dinner, but you were suddenly left with the conclusion that you were aching for the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

Before you realized what you were doing, you were calling him.

On the second ring, he answered.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

“Hi. Everything’s great.”

A pause.

“Okay, do you want to talk about anything..?”

“There’s nothing else to do, Matty!” You’re out of bed and pacing now. “I’m stress free, and I can’t even be with you!”

You hear his laugh from the other side of the line, and it makes your heart flutter.

“We have the rest of our lives to spend the night together, baby.” He must have had a drink or two like you, because ‘baby’ is his tipsy nickname for you.

“I know, but I miss you now. And I’m hungry.” You tell him.

“Do you want to come over, order room service, and make out?” He grins. “You just have to leave before midnight, it’s bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding.”

You’re putting on your slippers when you pause and consider this for a minute.

“Matt, You’re blind.”

“And you’re deaf, don’t forget your hearing aids, baby.”

“How drunk are you right now? How would I be talking to you if I didn’t have them in right now?” You question.

A pause.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” His voice is softer now, and before you know it, you’re out the door and walking down the hallway.

He opens the door before you can knock, because of all the men in New York, you’ve landed the one with heightened abilities.

“Hi.” You grin, but he doesn’t respond. He simply leans down and picks you up bridal style, much to your objection. He kicks the door behind him closed before he carries you to the bed. He lays you down on it, finding himself on top of you.

“Silk?” He asks gently, his hand on your side.

“Mhm. Bridal pajamas.” You giggle. He just grins and leans in to kiss you. He pulls away from the kiss only to move to your jaw, and then down your neck. “Matthew, I want to order room service, I’m starved!”

His hands find their way underneath your top, his fingers beginning to creep up your skin.

“Me too. Been planning so much, I’ve hardly had the chance to be with you.. To touch you like this.”

You hum softly, but then your stomach rumbles loudly. So, when He lands on his knees in front of you and pulls you forward so that his head is between your thighs, he takes a second to lean over, searching for the room service menu before handing it to you, as well as the phone.

“What looks good, baby?” He asks, leaning his cheek against your thigh. Your pajama bottoms are shorts, so his warm cheek is a sharp contrast to your skin.

“What are you up to, Murdock?” You ask suspiciously, sitting up to look at the menu.

“Nothing, what kind of desserts do they have on there?”

What a weird, secretive man your future husband is.

“Uh, they have a crème brulee, apple pie, angel cake with chocolate ganache frosting—”

“Oo, can you order me one of those?” he asks, starting to kiss your thighs. Your face flushes.

“Sure, But I’m also gonna order the chocolate covered strawberries and the brownie al a mode—”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He hums, “You just have to order it for me.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you go to dial the number for room service.

The woman on the other end of the phone is very nice.

As she begins to talk, Matt listens in, but mainly focuses on pulling down your shorts and panties, kissing along your thighs.

Your free hand goes to his hair to try and keep him from eating you out while you order room service, but he is a persistent man.

His lips meet your clit first, and he listens as you gasp, trying to finish the order that he had so kindly requested you to make. His tongue meets your folds, finally satiating the hunger he had for weeks leading up to this.

Your fingers grip his hair, only making him quicken his pace.

“Can I also get uhm—” You can barely think straight. “The uh, Fuck—” Matt’s nose rubs against your clit, his tongue moving at a devastating pace.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” The woman on the other line asks.

“Yeah, Sorry, stubbed my toe on the dresser,” You explain. Matt grins from his place between your thighs. His tongue drags up and down, as if he’s licking every inch of you, like maybe he’ll never be able to taste you again. “The angel cake, can we get two slices of that?” You ask, your fiancé’s pace increasing.

“Yeah, of course. Anything else?”

Matt takes only a moment to stop his assault on your pussy, to add, “The strawberries, baby,” before continuing to lap his tongue against your wet heat.

“The chocolate covered strawberries, and that’s it,” You finish.

“Alright, we have the brownie, the strawberries, and the cake..” She finishes. “What room?”

“Two twenty six,” You tell her. You roll your hips up to try and get more from Matt, but one hand leaves his grip on your thigh to hold your hips down. He knows you’re close, he always knows.

“Oh, are you the bride for tomorrow?” She asks.

This god damn wedding.

“Mhm,” You manage out, biting your lip to try and stop yourself from moaning.

“Congratulations!” She chirps, “Consider the room service complimentary, then,” She gifts.

“Thank you, very much.” You hum.

Matt stops his assault again.

“Ask her how long,” and then he’s back to tasting you, relentlessly.

“How long?” You ask, breathlessly.

“Should only be about ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, thank you,” You say again, your grip on Matt’s hair tightening as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“Of course! Have a very happy wedding day!” And with that, she hangs up, and you toss the phone in the general direction of the machine.

“I’m gonna kill you,” You tell Matt, who stops quickly.

“Do you want to kill me, or do you want me to make you cum?” He asks. He looks really pretty between your thighs.

“Please, Matty..” You give in, and he smirks.

“That’s my good girl.” And he continues to suck your clit, edging you closer and closer. His pace quickens, somehow even more. You let out a soft moan that sounds like absolute heaven to Matt’s ears.

Your thighs are starting to shake because you’re so damn close. Matt keeps his licks consistent, waiting for your release. Your fingers tug on his hair, as you moan, finally hitting your release. He lets you ride out your high, licking all your cum up, making sure to suck up every last drop.

“So sweet and so good for me..” he hums, planting a soft kiss to your clit before pulling away, licking his lips.

“You’re such a dick..” You giggle.

He laughs, kissing your thigh.

“Did so well for me, Sweetheart..” He hums, leaning up to give you a soft kiss. When he pulls away, he slips your shorts back on, and looks like he has a new idea. “Ten to fifteen minutes, huh?”

“Mhm..” You’re just looking at him with such adoration.

“We could probably put that pretty mouth to good use while we wait, right?”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil fic #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #smut #marvel smut #daredevil smut

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luvyunjinxo · 9 months

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can't sleep at night? - hot girl huh yunjin x fem!reader

CW: alcohol, jealous yunjin, humiliation, rough yunjin 😻, not proofread, recording during s3x, blackmailing, & more lmk if I missed<3

NOTE: guys I am so sorry this came out very very very overdue please understand I am really busy with things right now 💀‼️ love you guys fr and enjoy reading. (also kinda rushed so so sorry).

Yunjin and you have been friends since the day high school has started. you both made eye contact during classes, quick glances, other shit like that. if you both were to be honest with each other, you both thought one another was hot as fuck.

yeah .. so you guys became friends to best friends and nothing more. It has been so fun hanging out with yunjin and you guys told each other anything no matter what. not to mention though, she would flirt with you A LOT. too much signals for you to handle and it was overwhelming. the list of things she would do to you literally

-whenever she hugged you and let go her arms would touch every single inch of your waist, rubbing it in a way

-would be jealous if someone got close to you

-only flirted with you and only you.

it was crazy to think how the hottest girl in the school was your best friend and every boy wanted her. you both made a powerful duo being the prettiest and drop dead gorgeous. at that point everyone knew you both.

after school you both made plans to hang out as always and it was a friday so you both obviously went out to have fun.

"Y/n-ssi! are you done getting ready yet?" she barged into your room with the spare key she had. holy shit. you were more stunning than ever. wearing a dress that complimented your body in so much ways and the makeup that made you look even more gorgeous.

yunjin looked you up and down and her jaw dropped to the floor, drooling over the sight of you. honestly you didn't know you were that hot but in her eyes I guess you were ..

and obviously now huh yunjin could now feel her underwear flood and literally about to drip on her thighs. she was so weak for you.

"o-okay lets go now?" she stuttered out and she held out her hand for you and of course you held it back as you guys left and made your way for the car.

whatever yunjin was feeling, it was getting worse and when she sat down to drive you both to the party .. it started to drip on the seat and she could do nothing about it.

the whole car ride she was just twisting and turning, literally could not stop moving the whole time because of how bothered she was. you couldn't help but ask if she was okay.

"yunjin are you okay? you seem uncomfortable in your dress do you wanna switch fits or are you fine?.." you said as your hand rested on her thigh concerned.

"yeahimfinedontworry" she blurted out fast due to the hand on her thigh 💀 . she didn't want you to know that she was feeling this way so obviously she tried to forget about it.

you guys got to the party and being the most well known girls in school, both of you started to say hi to everyone one by one. speakers blasting drowning out every sound everyone made actually.

this one boy in particular caught you eye though .. and for once it wasn't yunjin ? .. and someone you could actually shoot your shot with because yunjin would keep giving you mixed signals.

you made your way over to him at the small bar in the house leaving yunjin. she was now alone.

"can I have soju please?" you told the person working at the bar and looked straight at the boy.

"your cute what's your name my love?" he spoke.

yeah, yunjin was watching from afar. drinking on a couch while practically eyeing at you two yet still wet from what you did to her. taking shots every time she got jealous.

but anyways you were taking so much shots, gulping so much alcohol your body couldn't even take. So drunk and lost, you got the boys phone number as yunjin watched you waddle your way back to the couch where she was sitting on.

"how was you and that boy over there" she said coldly taking another shot. she had a blank expression on her face, and even though your vision was blurry you could see her looking I guess you could say mad.

"It was soooooo~~ good baby" you said drunkly as you collapsed onto yunjin's shoulder. 'baby?' yunjin thought in her head but suppressed her feelings towards you.

"I-i saw you were wet earlier you thought I couldn't see!?~" saying while playing with her hair now.

"I'm mad at you, not now y/n." "what did I do mommy?.."

mommy?. bye yunjin was down bad.

"let me show you how sorry I am~" you took her hand and pulled her into the crowd of people. everyone recognizing you both immediately, all eyes went on both of you.

your bodies start dancing to the music, yunjin not having it but is still dancing anyways because everyone is watching. your bodies collided and swayed with each other until your drunk ass decided to bend over.

you started throwing it back on yunjin??! crazy .. everyone was now recording and you knew it was gonna go around the whole school but who the fuck cares at this point. you started to grind against her pelvis as yunjin got that wet feeling again.

she looked at you so shocked and when you turned around to see her face, she was pale af. you stopped grinding and throwing it against her, and turned around fully to face you. you grabbed and started rubbing her crotch while making out with her and stopped when you both ran out of breath, while a string of saliva was seen. yeah, the whole school saw it and you two were fucked for sure.

as you guys let go of the kiss you both ran out of there, but to different places. you went back to the boy you were flirting with and yunjin went with her other friends. eventually, yun got bored so she went home feeling so disturbed she knew she had to take care of it. she also knew that you probably weren't coming home tonight since you were really drunk so she knew she could take care of herself.

yunjin arrived home crashed onto her bed and started to relieve herself obviously. unzipping her party outfit, she opened her laptop to watch the dirtiest thing you could ever see, I'm pretty sure you get the idea. she started to rub herself all over imagining it was you from what happened at the party.

now touching her sensitive buds, she started to pinch and roll them between her two fingers while her other hand made down to touch herself.

"fuck! y/n y-your the death of me"

she continued to watch the dirty video on her laptop close to coming thinking it was still you and once she finally climaxed the filthiest words came out of her mouth literally.

as soon as she finished screaming her lungs out she went to sleep naked, laptop fully open, and most of all cum soaked all over her body.

she thought you weren't coming home tonight? yeah she should've thought again. you came quietly through the front door and drunkly laid yourself next to yunjin on her bed. just staring at her nothing else.

seeing her curves and every other perfection of herself. thats it really. simple, you wanted her. badly. you needed her to fuck you and use you up like the slut you are yeah? mhm, I thought so.

so, trying not to, haha, and at the same time not trying, you started to touch yourself just like how yunjin did not to long ago .. having to cover your mouth and close your legs not to make any sound really.

you can just hear your muffles of screams that were audible, but never knew it would wake her up. every time yunjin would move, you let out a little scream because you never wanted your best friend catching you get off to her wouldn't you?

not fighting it anymore, knuckles deep into yourself, you let out your screams and was so close to coming, so close to the edge and close to finding the pleasure.

obviously it didn't happen. yunjin caught your ass.

"y/n? what the fuck are you doing fucking yourself on my bed huh? after what you did tonight?"

"such a fucking slut."

those words came out of her mouth while you screamed and let yourself go.

"I-im sorry."

"I-im sorry" she mocked you.

"yeah if your sorry bend over the bed, I don't care if you're tired or can't take it anymore."

"yunjin b-but were just best friends right?.." you really didn't wanna think that to yourself but you let it slip out of your mouth anyways.

"oh so that's all you think we are huh. let me show you who the fuck you belong to." as you bent over the bed, she sat down next to your ass and started to finger fuck you from behind.

"how would people think of this? getting fucked by her own best friend?" she started to record you.

"I'll show everyone how much of a slut you are if you misbehave once tonight" she slaps your ass as you whine. she shows the camera your face each time she hits your ass and you have never been more humiliated. "are you getting off to this?, your dripping babe."

she collected the slick on your pussy and licked it right off. slamming to fingers in and out of you again in such a rough pace. would never go in a consistent pace either.

slams in, and slides right out.

"yunjin! please~ I'll be good, I'm yours and only yours mommy please, please just make me come." lies was all that could go through yunjins ear.

"you would want that boy of yours to fuck you like this right? I might as well just leave and call him."

"no please! I just want y-you~"

well that was too fucking bad y/n. she walked away with a smug smirk on her face as she left the room and locked it, leaving you all alone still bent over with juices all over your thighs. so pathetic.

736 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 8 months

Text

Mr and Mrs Knight

Steven Grant (Marc Spector + Jake Lockley) x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, body dysmorphia, smut, suit kink, glove kink, fingering, PiV sex, creampie, squirting, misuse of The Suit™ (and truncheons), cosplay, established relationship, fluff

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I am unashamed to admit that suits are fucking hot and the shit they do to me is what I imagine straight men feel when they see a VS model in lingerie. And Steven is hot. So is Marc. And Jake and Oscar in general you get the rest. Imagine the Mrs Knight suit looks something like this. (Also featuring the headcanons by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction for Jake's craftiness!)

Taglist: @mundivagantsoul @belle-oftheball34 @steven-grants-world @denile-xo @whatevenisagrapefruit @hagridnmegamind @sapphire-and-ruby

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It had been a banger of a night. A fun Halloween bash at the museum, amazing costumes, great food. Donna even seemed to be in a decent mood. But of course that woman could have been faking it.

You and Steven decided to go with matching costumes. In a gross abuse of Steven, Marc, and Jake's status as Moon Knight, you'd convinced him to use his "Mr Knight" suit as his costume.

Jake helped you make yours to match. Finding the majority was easy enough at thrift stores (despite Marc's insistence that you should buy a new one), the mask was what was the pain.

That's where Jake's expertise came in. Sure his main skill was in knitting, but that didn't mean the man wasn't nuanced in other ways to make clothes. You couldn't count how many times Jake would stitch up the seams of your favorite jacket that you just refused to throw away, or how many times he'd hit you with that smug smile when you blubbered about how awesome he was for giving extra life into your jacket so you could wear it juuuust a bit longer.

Your mask turned out to be almost a perfect replica of his, complete with glowing lenses to match Steven.

You were nervous when you got dressed, looking in your floor-length mirror at your reflection.

Your hair was pinned back neatly to allow you to pull the mask on or off (because unlike Steven's, which was magically suited--pun intended--to be comfortable) without much problem, and you would still appear "flawless" as Steven put it.

But right now, you were having second thoughts. You weren't sure you liked how the skirt fit you. Or the blazer.

The waistband of the skirt squeezed your waist and the rolls of your tummy, the creases in the fabric seemingly emphasizing every imperfection you saw in yourself.

Your transparent white stockings were not helpful either, the bands squished the fat of your thighs in a way that made them look like muffins, even moreso than your tummy. They kept rolling down so much you had to buy garters to wear beneath your skirt just so they'd stay up...

You frowned at your reflection as the skirt rode up your legs, showing off the cute lace trim of the stockings and your squishy thighs; honestly if you weren't careful, or you bent over the skirt would bare your ass to the whole party.

You were tempted to go and grab that last minute shitty vampire costume you had stashed away, when Steven walked in, already dressed immaculately in that gorgeous white suit of his.

He adjusted the tie, not looking at you as he does so.

"Hey, luv, I'm fairly ready. I can help you with your makeup now, if..." His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth feels suddenly very dry at the sight of you all dressed up.

His tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip, moistening it as he clears his throat.

"You look good."

"Oh.... Thanks." You mumble shyly, trying to pull the edges of the blazer down to cover the rolls poking out of your skirt a bit more.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, beautiful?" He said softly, moving up to you.

"I... I look like a marshmallow." You sigh hesitantly, your tone full of self-deprecation.

"Hey, now." Steven smiled sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist as you tucked your face into his lapel.

"You're the most gorgeous marshmallow on the planet if that's the case." He told you, kissing the top of your head.

He felt something press down on him, and he looked up at the mirror, getting a full view of your back, but he saw Marc's face staring back at him with a cringed expression.

(Dude, that was the shittiest compliment ever. What woman wants to hear her being compared to a marshmallow??) He hissed.

Steven was about to retort, before you started bubbling out on laughter at how silly his compliment was.

"That was so corny." You snicker.

Steven gave a smug smirk at Marc before looking down at you with a soft, lovesick smile.

"Yeah, well, you love my sense of humor, eh?" He winked.

"Yeah... I guess I do." You smile back.

"Now, then! Your makeup. Let's sit you down so I can work on it for you!"

Whenever you had your doubts about your appearance, Steven, Marc, or Jake would pipe in and alleviate your worries. Sometimes all three at once, though rapid switching would often cause problems for them (like migraines).

You kept your eyes closed as Steven carefully applied your highlighter to your cheekbones, the brush tickling your skin, his shaky breaths ghosting over your face.

He would mumble some curses when he messed up, but would correct his mistake.

When you had asked him where on earth he learned to contour and highlight he shyly admitted he watched half a dozen tutorials on YouTube to get it perfect for you.

You felt the coldness of the liquid eyeliner as he painted on the wings with the white liner, the silver and gold glitter further adding to your look.

"'Kay luv, open your eyes so I can apply your mascara." He murmured, looking down in your makeup kit for the said cosmetic.

Once he did, he pulled out the black tube and made sure there was no excess before he carefully combed the white creamy substance on your eyelashes, lightening them up to enhance the face he'd helped apply for you.

Once he was finished with both eyes, he leaned back and allowed you to blink, smiling that puppy dog smile of his in satisfaction at his handiwork before placing the mascara tube back in the kit.

He lifted his hand and shook the bottle of setting spray so you wouldn't accidentally sweat it off or wipe it off with something during the night (or god forbid it rub off on the inside of your mask).

"Close em again for me."

You couldn't help but smile at his level of gentleness and politeness.

You restrained from physically recoiling as the cold setting spray hit your skin and quickly dried.

"Now, do you want to put on lipstick now or when we get to the party?" He asked as he watched your sickeningly gorgeous lashes flutter open. All the white, silver, and hints of gold on your face enhanced your eyes and their color, the very depths of them stealing his breath away.

"We can do it now. I have liquid matte and regular lipstick." You reply, smiling once again.

"Which would you prefer?" Steven asked you.

"Whichever you think would look best."

He sucked in a breath that his lungs were suddenly starving for, and grabbed the liquid tube.

His hand gently cupped your chin as he brushed the satiny lipstick onto your lips, carefully lining them so it wasn't too much. He'd even dipped his finger in your cosmetic glitter and applied a very gentle amount.

"Gorgeous." He breathed.

"Aww..." You giggle, thankful for the glitter and makeup that hid your blush at his praise.

"Now then... Let's go, shall we?" He said, taking your hand to help you stand and slip in your white heels.

As the two of you left, Steven could hear Jake in the back of their headspace.

(Que hermosa... Be careful, hermanito. If she bends over, I just might take over for the rest of the night and have that ass for myself.)

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Mr and Mrs Knight. That's what you two went as for the party. You two even won the prize for best couples costume!

Sure it was just a gift card to some restaurant, but it was exhilarating to hear how people adored your matching outfits.

And you couldn't help but notice all night that Steven simply couldn't keep his hands off of you.

He would get like that sometimes; working himself up like that, but trying to be subtle. You knew it was only a matter of time before an awkward boner would be the cause for the two of you to leave early, so you excused yourself to the restroom under an excuse to check and see if your makeup needed retouching or if you could go the rest of the night without your mask.

But you got a little nervous when two women went into the lavatory after you, and you felt trapped within your stall. You simply couldn't stand the glances from other women you were getting all night. You were afraid these two women who were clucking at each other like hens were amongst the ones judging you.

And your fears were confirmed.

"I can't believe that such a handsome guy would pick a blimp to be his girlfriend." One of them scoffed as she applied a fresh layer of brick red lipstick. As if she didn't have enough on already.

You felt your heart sink further inside of you as the other joined in.

"I know, right? It's gotta be her tits, only thing I can imagine. Maybe her ass, too." The other laughed as she touched up the false blood on the corners of her mouth.

"Either that or she gives good enough head that he can overlook the fact that if she ever got on top she could crush him." The first one snickered.

Your hands knotted in the mask you held in your hands, threatening to tear the stitches Jake so lovingly sewed in for you to wear tonight. You bit the inside of your cheek harshly as the two gossiped further.

"Ugh, and the sad thing is, he's cute, for a bookworm who won't shut up." The second sighed.

"Ugh, I know... I can look past the blabbering if I can see what he's packing."

"Right? I wonder if he's as good with his mouth as he is with his stupid history facts." The first giggled.

You gritted your teeth. You couldn't take much more, you knew that. Insulting you, you could take and bottle up to deal with later, probably in the heat and privacy of your shower.

But talking about Steven like he's some kind of... sex toy? No. Hell no. If you were anything, you were insanely protective over your boys. Even bordering on possessive at times (of course the same was true for the boys about you).

You were done.

You slammed the stall door open and sort of enjoyed how startled they seemed when they saw you, their jaws dropping when it hit them that you heard everything.

You hurriedly wash your hands and slip your gloves back on, gripping your mask in your hand tight as you spare them a backwards glance before leaving the lavatory to find Steven.

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted to go home...

When you found him, his brows knitted upwards in concern at how tight-lipped and tense you were when you gripped his sleeve tight.

"Ey luv, what's wrong?" He murmured to you, leading you away from the crowd.

"I... I just want to go home." You say, the words those women said about your body weighing down on you, and the things they said about Steven burning hot in your gut. You weren't sure what to feel with this cocktail of emotions.

"Hey hey, okay we can leave." He says, kissing you on the forehead.

"Let's go."

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The walk back to your flat was... Difficult. You could barely hold yourself together, suddenly hyper-aware of every roll and stretch mark on your body, even the slight double chin you had when you moved your head a certain way.

It wasn't until you were in the lift of your building that you finally broke down, your reflection staring back at you in the walls of the tiny space, crushing down on you with every imperfection you saw.

You couldn't keep in the bubbling sobs, or the fat tears that rolled down your cheeks and ruined the makeup Steven worked so hard to put on you.

He cradled you against him and cooed to you, saying sweet nothings and whispering nothing but praise for your looks, rubbing your back and kissing your hair.

In the various angles of the reflections, and the oppressive feeling weighing down on Steven... He could see and feel Marc and Jake.

Both looked pissed. Marc almost looked violent.

(If anybody talks like that about our muñeca again...) Jake trailed off.

(Oh trust me, I'll do the honors.) Marc growled.

The walk back into your flat felt horrid. You didn't just cry, you ugly-cried. You ruined your makeup, your hair fell out of the pins, and your skirt rode up more with every rushed step you took to hurry up and get in to get into some baggy clothes that didn't showcase your body.

You didn't feel cute or sexy anymore, you felt... ugly.

And Steven didn't like that one bit. Marc and Jake retreated, knowing that their anger at your injured self-opinion wouldn't help. This kind of situation was a Steven situation. He knew best how to be the sweetest person on the planet with you.

But right now he wasn't feeling particularly sweet. Sure, you were upset. But he couldn't help but get a good look at you as you walked ahead of him, the skirt riding up so much that he could just barely see the black and blue panties you wore beneath, your cheeks peeking out from the edges of the fabric, the garter straps clinging desperately to your stockings in effort to keep them up your gloriously plush thighs to keep them up.

He felt hot beneath the collar, his trousers getting uncomfortably tight as blood flowed straight to his cock.

The moment the door closed behind you, your hands, trembling and rushed, went to unbutton the blazer to get it off of you quicker, sniffles and tiny sobs sneaking out of you in the process.

However, your actions were halted when Steven placed his hands gently on your shoulders from behind, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your blazer, trying to soothe you.

"Love. You're gorgeous. Beautiful." He breathed, resting his forehead against the back of your head, inhaling the lingering scent of your shampoo.

"Steven, I'm... I'm not." You sniffle. "I'm fat, I can barely squeeze into a pair of jeans, I can't even shop at normal clothing stores for women. I get looks when I wear anything tight, and--and the things I hear people say about me--"

Your voice is broken off when you hiccup, feeling another sobbing fit try to get out of you.

"You don't understand what I'm sayin', luv." Steven smiled into your hair, ever patient.

"You're the prettiest girl in the world to us. You don't need a flat belly, or toned thighs to be pretty. You're funny, you're warm, and you're soft."

You made a shocked squeak when his hands snake around you, his gloved hands gripping at your belly and squeezing the plushness there through your clothes.

Your denial died in your throat when Steven rolled his hips into you, his hard cock throbbing as he rutted into the curve of your ass.

"You wouldn't be able to get to me like this if I didn't find you the most gorgeous woman on the planet. You wouldn't get Jake to say the filthy things he tells you in bed. You wouldn't have Marc snuggling you and resting his head in your lap or on your belly..."

His breathing got heavier as he rocked his hips into you further, a bitten-back whimper dying as he swallowed hard.

"S-Steven--"

"You've been driving me insane all night. This skirt looks so good on you." He says hotly in your ear, his fingers rolling up the hem of your skirt to reveal your panties and garters, making you gasp again.

"Those stockings huggin' you so tight. Been thinking about how badly I want to have my head between your legs, tonight." He growled.

Before you could say anything else, his gloved hand went up to your mouth and he tapped your lips, begging for entrance. Powerless to resist him, you let him press his fingers into your mouth, your tongue wetting them effectively before he pulled them away, and slipped down into your panties

He dragged one of his fingers up your puffy lips, parting your folds before he turned his attention onto your clit.

"S-S-Steven--" You whimper when he starts to circle the little nub.

"Hush, now. Let me show you, eh?" Steven said, biting at your earlobe softly.

You couldn't fight it, you couldn't fight the warm nectar that gushed out from you at his words and affirmations. All your mind could focus on was how wonderfully his fingers toyed with your cunt, deftly rolling, pushing, and pinching your clit in every way he knew that brought you the best pleasure, the fastest.

Your mind practically went blank when he curled two fingers into your weeping hole, the leather around his digits making them thicker than they normally would be, and providing a luxurious texture to your clit as he massaged you with his palm. His mouth trailed down your neck, breath hot on your skin as he bit down and sucked.

It wasn't like when Jake did this to you, no. Every one of them had different methods, different touches...

And Steven was particularly good at balancing out the sweet and the hard, paying more attention to your own pleasure than his. Sometimes, he would get so lost in pleasuring you he'd cum in his pants without even being touched.

This time was no different... in no time at all, he had you cumming so hard you almost fell to the floor, your slick gushing out and soaking the glove.

He smiled sweetly into the skin of your neck as he eased you forward, so you could press your palms on one of his desks, thighs quivering as you recollected yourself.

You barely saw through your haze clearly enough to catch Steven licking his glove clean through the reflection in the mirror on the desktop, his eyes closing in satisfaction at your savory taste.

You half expected him to drop to his knees and eat you out, next, but he doesn't. He just stands there for a moment, staring at you with a lidded and loving gaze, curls falling forward over his forehead as they always do.

That's when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head, and you pinch your legs together, and try to wiggle away from his gaze, to retreat to the safety of the bathroom and escape from his heated staring.

But in a flash, Steven is on you again, his hands gripping at your hips and that's when you feel the hot, heavy weight of his leaking cock slap against the barely clothed flesh of your ass as he rolls your skirt up completely over your hips.

"Steven!" You squeak.

"Hey, now... 'M not done showing you yet." His voice croaks out, heavy and barely coherent as the silk fabric of your panties brushes the head of his dick.

He groans, giving one more roll of his hips against your ass, smearing more precum on the fabric and skin, there; before he gripped the base, lining his cock up to your weeping hole.

"Fuck, luv. So soft. So wet f'me." He said, voice strained from barely contained arousal.

You squirmed, still feeling inadequate despite Steven's words and assurances.

God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly. But right now you just felt so... so...

Your thoughts cut themselves off when he reached behind him, and from beneath his coat pulled out one of his engraved truncheons.

Placing it in front of you and gripping it with his other hand, pulling you tight against him as he thrust sharply into you, sheathing himself in one whole go, the tip of his cock slamming upwards so suddenly you felt his tip smush your cervix before he eased back.

"B-baby--" You whine, despite yourself.

"Not runnin' away, luv." Steven grunted into your hair as he thrust into you, his hands gripping tightly on the truncheon, using the bar to squeeze against your belly and hold you against him while he fucked you raw.

You couldn't fight the snapping of his hips or his raw need for you, right now. You couldn't hold back the moans and whimpers he wrenched out of you with each punctuation of his hips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck--" You hear him wheeze as his thrusts get more and more desperate.

There is a metallic clang as he tosses the truncheon to the floor in favor of gripping your thigh and lifting your leg so your knee was on the desktop.

You let Steven guide you so you're practically laying face down on the desk, his cock still spearing you open, pussy fluttering around him at the change in position.

You were taken by surprise when he grips your wrists next, ripping off his tie before slipping it over your hands, before tying them together at the curve of your back. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but tight enough you couldn't squirm free.

He hesitated a moment. As nice as it would be to watch the soft flesh of your ass bounce and ripple while he fucked you... He didn't want to do it like this.

So, without further hesitation on his part, he gripped you, lifting you off your feet and rolling you so you were laying with your upper half on the desktop, pulling your legs up so your calves rested on his shoulders, all without dislodging from the warm tightness of your cunt.

You whimpered as he does this, and try to wriggle from his tie so you could cover your face, your running makeup and smeared lipstick.

Your pitiful, chubby face--

"Hey, hey..." His voice is soft and shaky as he leans in, cupping your cheek with one hand as your thighs squish against the both of you.

He caresses your soft cheek with a thumb and he smiles.

"Don't hide from me, sweetheart. You're gorgeous and I want to see you."

"Steven, I..." You whimper as your pussy clenches around his shaft, making it twitch inside of your tight, gummy walls.

His eyes rolled back with a groan.

"I'm not gonna stop until you see what I see." He grunts, dragging his cock out slowly until only the tip remains inside of you, the rest of your cunt squeezing desperately around nothing.

You're barely given a moment of respite before he snaps his hips into yours again, fucking you relentlessly and hitting your sweet spot over and over withe every arch of his hips.

Some of Marc's precision was bleeding into him as he aimed the tip of his cock like a weapon against your g-spot, pounding into you hard and fast, stoking the fire in your belly so hotly that you felt the embers scatter throughout your veins, every nerve in your body aflame in pleasure.

His left hand kneads the soft skin of your thigh, squishing and rolling the plush flesh beneath his gloved fingers before he slips his other hand between you, circling your clit mercilessly, making you shriek with every sharp thrust of his hips.

He loved how your body jiggled and bounced with every thrust; how your tits were bouncing so hard that they were spilling out of the top of your bra cups, your blazer falling completely open around you, now.

Despite still being fully clothed, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. Fresh tears burned in your eyes as he crammed his cock into you over and over again, his fingers working your second orgasm out of you faster and faster with every swipe of his fingers.

"It's okay, luv." Steven moaned, turning his head to plant a kiss on the inside of your knee, the leg he was squishing in his fingers.

"Cum for me, yeah? Show me how pretty you are." He pants, his thumb pressing hard into your clit.

That was all it took, the friction of his fingers, the thrusts of his hips, and each jab of his cock, plus his words? You were on cloud nine, brain fried and all sense gone as drool dribbled down your chin and you cum with a choked cry, babbling out his name over and over as your body clamps down, gushing around his cock, spraying out and soaking his hand and the front of his suit.

Steven, poor, loveable, goofy Steven could never hold out too long after you came, the squeezing and milking of your pussy was simply too much for him to bear.

Your eyes rolled back and you felt yourself spasm in an aftershock as you felt the hot ropes of his cum painting your walls a milky white, flooding your hungry cunt with everything he had to give you.

He drops your leg, wrapping them around his waist as he leans in and kisses you roughly, his tongue pushing past your lips to twine with yours and steal your recovered breaths.

"See... You're fucking beautiful. Wouldn't do this to us otherwise." He mumbles against your lips.

"Oh... God." You whimper.

Your mind ticks back into sanity and you realize the two of you are still clothed. Your outfit was of course mussed, but Steven was almost completely immaculate. The only thing he was missing of his suit was his tie, and the only sign of mess was the wet stain on his front, and his cock still sheathed inside of you.

"Hmm." He hummed softly, looking down at you with the softest gaze he could fix on you.

Steven gave you a sweet kiss to your forehead before he moved his mouth to the shell of your ear.

"And if you still don't believe me... Jake and Marc want to have a word with you."

#moon knight #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant

504 notes · View notes

pettydollie · 4 months

Note

dad!matt or dad!chris u choose :)

DONT EVEN LET ME TELL U BC LEMME TELL U, matt is a girl dad. like yeahhh ig i could see him with boys but think of tough matt with little princesses who dress him up for tea parties 🥹

when they're babies, he always takes pictures whenever u dress them up in cute lil fits with matching head accessories.

he gets really angry whenever nick or chris (more chris tho) swear infront of his kids !!! they could both be babies, however, what if thats their first word?? "shit, they're so cute." chris grins, tickling them lightly. matt smacks his arm aggressively "ow!"

pretends to fight them LMAOO one of your girls is really tired but refuses to go to sleep, so you pull out the big guns, your husband. u guys know how he always has beef with the camera? 😭😭 he swings (much more cautiously) at the chunky baby and when she jabs his shoulder, he winces dramatically in pain. this tires her out and she eventually falls asleep right next to her daddy

they won't stop crying one night, you're on the verge of breaking down with them and matt gets out of bed, walks over to the crib, picks both of them up (their sobbing winds down a bit), and kisses your lips. "i'll be back in a few. get some sleep sweetheart." and walks out of the room

you didnt wake up all night. and like your husband promised, he was right next to you in bed, snoring softly.

he has a hard time saying no for sure. its sunday and the kids have school tomorrow but they wanna go out. "daddy can we go to the park?" he shakes his head, "dinner's soon, baby, maybe next weekend" both of your girls pout and shrug without arguing, but still, he gives in

pushes them to be social. he'll be at the store and ask one of them to ask someone where the tripods are or something. she does it without a problem because matt's teaching them that they don't have to be afraid like he was

now in their pre-teens, they're starting to explore the world of beauty. "daddy." one taps his shoulder while he's on facetime with nick on the couch. "can you ask mommy if i can use some of her makeup?" she played with her fingers impatiently. he raises a brow. "you don't wanna ask her?" she shakes her head. "she might say no to me, but she'll say yes to you."

he chuckles lightly, "baby, why would she say no to you?" she shrugs. "i dunno." her answer made herself realize that there's no reason not to ask. she nods to herself, skipping away to find you

one night, you're braiding their soft hair while humming a song you three like. they sing the words aloud, causing you to giggle and begin singing with them. it's a really girly song by the way, so when matt stumbles into the room and the girls plead him to sing along to 'call me maybe', he looks at you. you grin and he mocks you before joining in

you think your girls are very mature teenagers. they're both 16 and have already had the talk about sex, drugs, violence, etc. knowing this, you're in shock when one night, you and matt are getting it on in the bedroom (you guys made sure to lock the door dw), you thought you were being quiet, but were proven wrong when you hear both of them giggling to themselves. matt hears this too and pauses alltogether. you whine quietly before he whispers "shh" and looks at the door. "go to sleep!" he yells, hearing them run away laughing. he gets right back to work when hes done, pretending that never happened LOL

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓸 #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #dad matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x y.n #dad!matt sturniolo

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onlyfezco · 1 year

Text

Forget Me Not - Fezco

Summary: Fez forgets your date Friday night and he spends the weekend trying to get back on your good side

Fezco x Reader

Word count: 2,247

Author’s Note: This just started because I thought about blasting music that fit my mood when I was mad and the other person realizing I was mad based off the lyrics lol. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. The divider is from @firefly-graphics

It had been a long night. Fez got word about a party happening last minute and him and Ash needed to go to lessen the load of Mouse’s latest supply. Before the party, Fez had been at the store for most of the day. He was ready to count up the money from tonight and go straight to bed.

“You’re in trouble,” Fez heard Ash say from the living room. He finished locking the door then made his way towards his brother.

“What I do,” Fez asked, then his eyes followed Ash’s to the couch where you lay sleeping.

“Oh shit,” Fez said, rubbing his hand over his shaved head. Normally, this wouldn’t be Fez’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend. Especially, after a super long day. But it was your nice black dress and perfectly done hair that reminded Fez he forgot about your date.

“Yeah, shit,” Ash chuckled dropping his backpack on the kitchen table. “She’s gonna be pissed.”

“I forgot she was stayin’ over this weekend. Her roommate’s army boyfriend was comin’ home for the weekend and she ain’t want to stay around for them reunitin’ for three days straight.”

“So she’s gonna be mad at you all weekend here? That’s hilarious,” Ash said with a silent laugh so he wouldn’t wake you.

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Fez whispered to his brother. By no means was any of this funny.

“I’mma let you deal with that. I’m goin’ to my room.”

Once Ash was gone, Fez squatted down so he was on eyelevel with you. “Ma,” he said softly. “Ma, wake up.” You stirred a little but your eyes were still closed. “Come on, let’s get you in bed,” Fez said gently shaking you now.

Your eyes opened briefly, then closed again. “I’m fine here,” you replied flatly, then rolled over so your back was to Fezco now.

Fez sighed. “Come on, baby. I’m sorry. I heard about a party the other day, and you know I got this extra supply to get rid of this month.”

“So not only did you go to a party without me, you didn’t call to let me know you’d be home late either? Nice to know I’m so forgettable.” You readjusted on the couch then pulled the blanket down to cover yourself up. After about an hour of Fez not showing up and not hearing anything from him, you took your makeup off and got comfortable on the couch.

You knew you were being a bit childish. You could have easily called Fez to see where he was at, or remind him of your plans. But you had been texting him for most of the day anyway. It hurt that even though you should have been on his mind already, he still forgot about your date and you coming over.

“You’re not. I know you’re mad, but at least sleep in my bed tonight.”

“No thank you.”

Fez sighed again frustrated with how stubborn you were. “You don’t have to sleep with me. I’ll take the couch.”

“No. Thank you,” you repeated more sternly this time.

Fez just stayed there for a moment staring at your back hoping you’d give in and go to his bed. But you were stubborn and didn’t budge an inch. Fez stood up then walked to the kitchen table to put the money him and ash made tonight up somewhere safe. He wasn’t in the mood to sit there and count the profits right now. He’d worry about that tomorrow. He began making his way to his room, but glanced at the couch before he went down the hall to see if you changed your mind. You didn’t. He sighed then made the trek to his bedroom alone for the night.

Well I'm not gon' cry

I'm not gon' cry

I'm not gon' shed no tears

Fezco practically shot up out of his bed at the loud music. He looked around the room and realized it was morning from the faint light pouring in from behind his curtains. He shook his head then got out of bed to see where the noise was coming from.

Ash was sitting at the kitchen table watching some Youtube video with his headphones in while shoveling pancakes and eggs into his mouth. He walked into the kitchen to see you flipping a pancake over as you sang to the Mary J. Blige song. You were obviously still upset. He knew you would occasionally play some 90′s R&B while you cooked, but playing Mary this loud was a sign you were mad.

“Morning, ma,” Fez said testing the waters with you. Normally when he’d catch you cooking in his kitchen, he would come up behind you and kiss your neck. But he didn’t want to make the mistake of touching you and making your madder right now. He didn’t think he could handle you pushing him away.

Fez was met with silence as you grabbed a plate with some eggs already on it and placed the pancake down. “Come on, Y/N. I said I was sorry.”

You still ignored him, putting the skillet into the sink then walking over to the table to sit down. You grabbed the syrup that was next to Ash and poured it over your pancakes. Fez looked around the kitchen and saw that there was no food for him. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. He grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured himself some cereal. Usually, he would sit next to you at the table, but he sat from across from you instead.

Ash looked up from his phone and eyed the both of you. He was sitting in the middle of you two and could feel the animosity.

The Mary song faded out, but another angsty one was up next.

Baby Let Me Explain To You I'm Sayin

What You Sayin

It's Not Even Like That

It Wasn't Like That But I Saw You

Your eyes glanced up at Fez across the table from you but his eyes were already on you. Your eyes became angry as you glared at him then went back to your plate. Fez just sighed. Ash rushed to finish his food so he could hurry up and leave before things got more tense.

It was almost noon now, so it was time for Marie’s bath. On weekend’s when you came over, you volunteered to help Fez with his grandma. You always called it girl time and you weren’t going to let your anger at her grandson stop that.

“You won’t believe what your grandson did now,” you spoke to the old woman. Just because she was bedridden and couldn’t speak, didn’t mean you couldn’t keep her updated on what was going on.

“He forgot that I was coming over,” you said as you moved the warm towel up and down her arm. “And on top of that, he went to a party. Without me!”

As usual, you were met with silence. Fezco spoke so highly of his grandma when he first told you about her. Kitty was a badass. You hoped she would have liked you. Fez always said she would have loved you.

“I know Mouse’s punk ass dumped more product on him than usual, but if Fez would have told me he was going, I wouldn’t have mind.”

It was quiet for a moment. Just the sound of you dumping the towel back in the water then ringing it out.

“I know this is mostly my issue of being forgotten and I’m making a big deal out it, but it hurts.”

You were so busy in your own head and giving Marie her bath that you didn’t hear Fez’s footsteps coming down the hall. He was at his grandmother’s door listening to everything you said. He was so upset with himself over the situation. There you were, giving his bedridden grandmother a sponge bath after he made you angry. Most people would have said screw it and not done anything for Fez. But that morning you made his brother breakfast and now this. God, he loved you. He had to find a way to make it up to you.

After you were done with Marie, Ash convinced you to drive him to the mall so he could get some new shoes. You decided to make an afternoon of it since you weren’t planning on doing anything with Fez today. The two of you went to the movies after he bought his shoes. You paid for the tickets and he paid for the snacks. You told him he didn’t have to buy the snacks since you’re the one who decided to see a movie, but Ash insisted. Sometimes he would go to the movies with you and Fez, so he was just doing what he always saw. Fez would buy the tickets, and you would buy the snacks... well, sneak them in your purse. It was cute that Ash did that. You kissed him on the head and he wiped it off.

By the time you made it back to the O’Neil house, it was around 6. Ash asked you to drop him off at his friend’s place and said he would call you when he was ready to go. You were happy Ash was doing some normal child things, but you were bummed because that meant it would just be you and Fez. You started to think you should just forgive him. No point in holding out a grudge this pointless for too long.

You used your key to get in and walked down the hall to drop your shopping bag by the couch, but the dim lighting and candles through you off. Cautiously, you looked around. It was way too quiet.

You heard soft footsteps coming down the hall then turned to see your boyfriend in dress pants and a button down shirt holding your favorite flowers.

“Hey,” Fez said softly.

“Hey,” you replied back just as soft.

He walked closer to you then handed you the bouquet. “I got you these.”

You glanced down at the flowers then into Fez’s eyes as you reached out to grab the bouquet. Fez saw the small smile on your face and took that as a good sign.

“I’m sorry, ma. I didn’t mean to forget our date or you comin’ over. It slipped my mind, but it ain’t gonna happen again.”

“I know, Fez. And I’m sorry, too,” you said, a hint of sadness in your voice.

Fez’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What you sorry fo’?”

You shook your head. “For ignoring you. For getting that mad at something so small.”

Fez walked closer to you shaking his head, grabbing your free hand. “Nah, you had a right to be mad. It was important to you that I remembered our date, and I didn’t. I don’t wanna ever make you feel bad and that’s what I did.”

Your hand tightened around Fez’s. Your eyes glanced around before they landed on Fez’s piercing eyes. “I just... I have issues with being forgotten about.” Fez slowly stepped in closer to you and you automatically leaned into him. He grabbed the flowers from your hand, placing them on the table so he could grab your other hand as well. You laid your head on his chest.

“You don’t have to worry about that with me, ma,” Fez said reassuringly, making you nuzzle in closer to him. “You, Ash, and Grandma are the most important people in my life. Even if I slip up n’ miss a date, I could never forget you. I love you too much.”

You let go of Fez’s hands and wrapped them around his waist squeezing him tightly. “I love you too.”

Although you were no longer looking at him, Fez could hear it in your voice that were crying now. Fez wrapped one arm around you, and used his other to lift your face so he could look at you.

“Don’t cry, baby. You know I hate that.”

You sniffled, trying to stop the tears from falling. “I know. I just feel bad. I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

Fezco kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment. “It’s done. But let’s promise not to ignore each other, ‘kay?”

You nodded then exhaled trying to calm yourself down. “Okay.”

“Good,” Fez replied. He stepped back from you, your hands dropping down beside you, then he grabbed your hand and began leading you to your spot at the table. “Now, let’s enjoy this food I made.”

“You made this,” you asked smiling as you looked down at the delicious food in the center of the table. Fez could hear the doubt in your voice.

He pulled your chair out for you before he answered. “Well, I paid for it and put it on the nice glass plates. That’s basically makin’ it.”

“You made it look nice. You didn’t make it,” you corrected, giggling at him. You reached your hand out on top of the table once Fez sat down across from you. He took that as a sign you wanted to hold his hand. He reached out, his fingers interlacing with yours. “I love it though,” you told him. Your voice sweet like the syrup on a snow cone. “And I love you,” you added, squeezing his hand.

Fez’s lips curled up into a smile. He knows you mean it. Despite whatever happens, you always mean it. “Love you too, ma.”

#fezco x reader #fezco one shot #fezco fan fiction #fez x reader #fez fanfic #euphoria one shot #euphoria #euphoria fan fiction #fezco

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jinnie-ret · 5 months

Text

black friday

han jisung x plus size!reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: body size insecurities, reader talking negatively about themselves

word count: 1.8k

summary: it should have been a nice, fun evening out, but your insecurities win and jisung is just as upset as you are when he finds out why

Here it is, the first imagine of my 1K followers event, thank you so much everyone! Just to preface that everyone is beautiful. You are all worthy and the way your body looks does not define you. Be confident in who you are because there is a part of you that every single person out there will appreciate. I myself have gone through body image issues and I still do, so some of this is coming through my own experiences. Just because reader is plus size and feeling down does not mean this reflects how everyone plus size feels, again, this is just my own personal experiences mixed in. If you ever wanna talk then just pm me and love to you all <3

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It was just a dinner.

Just a fancy evening dinner party for JYP, and you were Jisung's plus one of course, being his girlfriend it only made sense.

The invitations clearly stated that it was a black tie event, meaning that you were to arrive formally dressed and that you'd probably expect a glass of prosecco to be handed to you upon entry.

Now that, didn't sound too bad.

What did, was the pressure of finding something new to wear, that you felt suited your shape. It was a difficult feat, you felt like. You'd only order from places guaranteed with a return policy, because you knew for sure that what would seem like a small thing to someone else, would make you wish that you never bought the item in the first place.

You had many memories of going clothes shopping as a child, and breaking down into tears in the dressing rooms because the top was too clingy or the trousers didn't fit right or the dress didn't look right on you.

No one should have to feel like that as a 7 year old kid. No one should have to feel like that, ever.

And when it wasn't just the clothes not fitting right, it was how they suddenly became itchy after, and you wanted nothing more than to get it off of your body, feeling hot with anxiety. But then there was the music blasting in the shop, and your mum asking you to show her your outfit even though your vision was so clouded with tears and you felt like you could barely breathe.

To put it simply, it was overwhelming. It was even triggering, sometimes, going shopping for something to decorate your body when it was the thing you hated the most about yourself.

Why should you like it?

Because of Jisung.

He never failed to bring you up after you hit your lows. Feeling isolated and barren in your thoughts, like you were curled up into a dark corner, locked away for no one to save you, and yet his hand would reach forwards and pull you out, being your lifeline. You needed your lifeline right now.

Doing your makeup helped for sure. It was a great way to make you feel confident yet you didn't feel like you needed to rely on it to feel pretty. You loved how your highlighter showed off your cheekbones and how your eye makeup made the colour pop out. Painfully, Jisung would always wonder why the same thing wouldn't apply with clothing. Of course, you had your casual style that you had gotten used to, but when it came to things outside of your comfort zone, you were nervous - like anyone else would be.

The dress looked stunning in the picture. On the model, not you, you thought. Why did it cling to you like that? Why did it show off your love handles? Why couldn't it have flown outwards instead of making you feel like you look like a rectangle?

In reality, none of those things mattered. It was your personality shining through that really mattered, because others would notice your melodic laugh and your kinds words much quicker than forming an opinion on your body. Again, these were all of the things Jisung would say to you but they never registered in your mind.

Smoothing down the fabric of the black dress, you bit your lip as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

"Ji! I so should have worn a suit, babe!" you call out twisting awkwardly on your heels just to check over every inch of your body in the mirror.

You heard him chuckle as he entered the bedroom, eyes widening as he looked at you.

"Babe, you look amazing no matter what, don't worry, yeah?" Jisung walked behind you, kissing you on the cheek as he scanned his bedside table for his cologne.

"I-i think this part doesn't look right though..." you frowned, pinching desperately at the smooth fabric between your thumb and finger, trying to stretch it out so it doesn't cling to you. You didn't even realise how hard you were biting on your own lip, breaking the skin as red pooled yet blended in with your red lipstick.

"Babe, you look sexy as hell right now, I'm serious," Jisung murmured into your neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to ease your worries. "The dress looks amazing on you, plus, your curves look great in the dress. There's nothing to worry about," he added on, knowing that you would end up comparing yourself to anyone else because you always felt like you were bigger than everyone, and that that was a problem.

Jisung waited for your response as he placed small gentle kisses on your neck, but you were clearly so anxious that you began to zone out.

"Babe, hey look at me. Look into my eyes," Jisung's arms tightened slightly, successfully gaining your attention as you blinked and looked at him in the mirror.

"Hmm, yeah?" you frowned, sighing and desperately trying to hold back your tears.

"There you are baby, listen, I love your body, I love your curves. And no one can tell me or more importantly you, otherwise. You look incredible in that dress," Jisung moved in front of you so you wouldn't look at your reflection anymore and instead focus on him and his words.

"I just want a perfect body, Ji, it's not fair," your eyes watered as you let out a sob, voice cracking.

"No, no, no, oh baby, it's alright, I've got you," Jisung cuddled you tightly against him, heart breaking at your cries. If only you could see what he sees and what everyone else did too. He smoothed down your hair, fingers twisting in your curls as he did so.

"I hate it, I hate it, Ji, I hate my body, I hate my skin-" you whimper into him, floodgates opened and no filter on the words that came tumbling out of your mouth now that you were in the comfort of the guy you loved the most.

"Darling, look at me, just breathe for a second, yeah?" Jisung reluctantly pulled away from you, wishing he could hold you in his arms forever and protect you from any harm the world would try throwing at you.

"O-ok," you sniffled and nodded, looking upwards as you blinked your tears away in effort of not messing up your makeup, like that would have made a difference.

"I'm sorry this dinner party has stressed you out so much, if you want we just have a nice relaxing night and-" Jisung offered another option, seeing right in front of him the mental toll that the idea of going to this event had taken on you. To him, you had seemed fine all week, so it must have been building up for a while.

"No, please don't. I... I want to go for you, I really do, it's just hard. I wanna be perfect like all your other friends," your shaky voice stopped him from carrying on as you placed a hand on his chest and adjusted the tie he was wearing, effectively distracting your own mind.

"Don't worry about my friends. Your body is none of their business. I'm sure they'd think you look amazing too. I know I could never keep my eyes away from you, I just wanna hug you and grab your love handles and kiss your cheeks and squeeze your-" Jisung rambled pressing little kisses all over your face to get you to laugh, and when he was successful, he let out a chuckle of his own.

"O-ok, o-ok," you pecked him on the lips before taking a few deep breaths and sat back in front of your vanity, quickly making a start on retouching your makeup.

"I wish you didn't worry so much, baby. I know I can't force you to see things how I do but if I could stop you from having all these thoughts in your head I would, you know that right?" Jisung stood behind you, mesmerised as you got yourself ready again, and he couldn't help but play with your hair.

"I know babe, I know- ow!" you winced, batting his hands away from your hair, "you tugged too hard," you wrinkled your nose at him.

"I'm bored, hurry up, I wanna take pictures of us for my Instagram story," he whined, shaking you gently by the shoulders. He was glad he had calmed you down and brought out your playful mood again, and for a moment he was worried about suggesting the idea of pictures when that's partly what you were stressed out about. He was relieved when that didn't throw you off.

"You always wanna take pictures of me," you shake your head fondly at him, putting your lipstick down and standing to grab your handbag.

"Of course I do! You're my girlfriend! Look at this picture," Jisung brought out his phone and quickly found a picture in his gallery, "I love this one here, because you look pretty like the sun. But then in this one here, you're pretty like the wind," he even zoomed in on your face, admiring you.

"Ji, babe, my hair has gone everywhere in that photo haha," you laughed when he zoomed in, seeing your face screwed up in the photo with your hair flying back behind you, some of it sticking in the air.

"Mmm, don't care, you're pretty to me no matter what. Now, come on, let's go," Jisung shoved his phone in his pocket and kisses you for a second, always having to do so after you freshly put lipstick on, a habit of his, you could say.

"Ji, you look so handsome tonight by the way," you scanned him up and down, a black suit and his fluffy permed hair with curls that still lasted from a performance the other day.

"Hey! We gotta go! Don't flip this round on me, you!" Jisung grabbed your hand and tugged you towards him, laughing at your blank stare at him. "We'll miss the whole event at this rate... don't look at me like that," Jisung stopped still.

"Like what?" you tilted your head to the side, eyes shining and staring right back up into his.

"Like..." he blushed, "come on, if we stay any longer I'm not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you," he turned around, intertwining his hand with yours and leading you out of the bedroom, turning the light switch off on the way.

"Wouldn't be so bad," you giggled, before he whined once more.

"Babe!"

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austinshotbutlers · 1 year

Text

The Wedding Date - Part Two

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: Your sister’s wedding is approaching fast and the thought of showing your boyfriend off to you family and your ex-boyfriend seems like a very appealing idea. The only problem is… you don’t have a boyfriend. Luckily your stony faced, serious, sexy boss has agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.1k

TW: Mentions and allusions to sex, swear words and bad writing?

A/N: Part two is here!!! I’ve tagged everyone who commented on part one but let me know if you want to be removed. The love i have received for part one has meant so much, I didn’t think it would blow up as much as it did. Thank you so much to every single one of you! There will be a part three! Part one can be found here

“Maybe we should hold hands?” You suggested as your smoothed down the red, silky dress you had picked for the party as you made your way into the extremely expensive looking lounge bar. You adjusted your hair slightly to ensure it looked perfect and once again smoothed the surface of your dress.

“Stop fidgeting, you look beautiful.” Aaron smiled and he took your hand in his.

You walked through the large doors into a gorgeous, old fashioned style bar. Family and friends were mingling all around nursing all kinds of alcoholic beverages. A waiter with a tray of champagne flutes passed and you quickly grabbed two, handing one to Aaron. You knocked it back in one, ready to face the challenges of the evening.

“You might want to slow down just a little bit.” Aaron laughed as he took a small sip from his own flute.

You were about to respond but the shrill sound of your sister cut you off.

“EEEEK!” She squealed as she ran over. “My sister is here! Who’s the hunk?” She attempted to whisper so Aaron couldn’t hear but failed miserably. “I’m getting married! I’m getting married!” And before you could respond, your slightly intoxicated sister ran off to hound someone else.

“She is going to be so drunk by the end of the night.” You say to Aaron, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“I’m just going to step outside and give Jack a call. Is that ok?” Aaron asks, pulling his phone out his suit pocket.

“Oh god yes! Go call him!” You ushered him away to let him phone Jack. This was your chance to go and refresh yourself and you made your way to the restroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, tucking some loose hair back behind your ear before retouching your lipstick. You smiled to yourself as you remembered Hotch saying you looked beautiful, heat rose to your cheeks and you fanned your face to calm down. Once you had collected your thoughts and you had finished touching up your makeup, you headed straight out the restroom door and walked smack into someone.

“God I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was…” you looked up and immediately recognised the cold steely eyes that were staring back at you. “Luke….” You laughed nervously. “Hi.”

He loosened his tie slightly before he spoke. “Er… Y/N, hi.”

You both stood in an awkward silence for a few seconds as you took in his appearance. He had aged quite a bit since you had last seen him; the start of a receding hairline, a messy, unkempt beard and still wearing ill fitting suits. You took a mental note of how much better Aaron wore a suit.

“Where’s this boyfriend I’ve been hearing about?” He asked abruptly.

You were quite taken aback. “He’s somewhere in the bar. He wasn’t going to escort me to the bathroom.” You replied bluntly.

He was just about to say something else when the uncanny voice of your cousin filled the small hallway.

“Oh my god!! If it isn’t my favourite cousin ever!” She yelled, running over and embracing you tightly. “Seriously, nearly two years since I last saw you. I have ex-boyfriends I see more than you.”

You laughed as you pulled back from the hug. “Oh Livvy I’ve missed you.”

She smiled at you before turning to face Luke. “Hello asshole.” She says in a moody tone. “Hope it’s alright if I just steal my cousin away.” And before Luke could utter a single word, Liv was dragging you up the stairs back to the party.

“Thank god you came when you did. I think he was about to play 21 questions with me about my new boyfriend.” You huffed.

“I will always rescue you from that asshole.” Liv replied and picked up a glass of champagne. “Now here,” she passed it to you. “Drink! God knows you’re going to need it.”

You sipped at the drink and scanned the room to see if Aaron had joined the party again. Just then, you saw him on the arm of your mother as she introduced him to all of your aunts. She had clearly cornered him when he came back to the party and insisted on introducing him to all the family. You smiled as he said something which made the group laugh, all your aunts seeming to take an instant liking to him.

“Ok, spill! Who is the sexy boyfriend of yours then? How did you meet?” Liv asked as she watched Aaron as well.

“We work together at the BAU. He’s the Unit Chief.” You replied without a second thought.

“Dating the boss? Sounds like something I would do.” She laughed.

You shook your head with a laugh and then looked up to see that Aaron had managed to escape your mother’s death grip and was making his way over to you. When he reached you, he placed his hand on your hip and ducked down to place a kiss on your cheek.

“How was Jack?” You asked breathlessly, the tingle of Aaron’s lips still lingering on your cheek.

“Yeah he’s good. Tired from a long day playing soccer.” Aaron replied with a smile.

Your cousin coughed to remind you of her presence.

“Liv!” You burst out, moving to the side so Aaron could see her properly. “Aaron, this is my cousin Liv.” You introduced them. Aaron put his hand out and Liv shook it enthusiastically.

“Nice to meet you Aaron. I’m so glad Y/N finally got over that pathetic loser and decided to get herself a real man.”

“Liv!” You hissed at her as she embarrassed you but Aaron just smiled and moved so he could wrap his arm around your waist. “Let’s go get another drink.” You say to him and you both wondered over to the bar.

“What would you like?” Aaron asked as he caught the attention of the bartender.

“Anything that’s stronger than champagne.” You groaned.

“Two scotches please.” Aaron asked the bartender and he speedily poured out two tumblers of amber liquid.

“Thanks.” You murmured just loud enough for Aaron to hear. He placed his arm back around your waist, taking a sip of his scotch.

You started to giggle to yourself and Aaron looked at you quizzically. “What’s so funny?”

“Well it’s just…” you laughed a bit harder. “Hotch drinking scotch.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, trying his best to suppress the smile that was slowly forming on his face. “It’s not even funny Y/N.”

“Say that to the smile on your face.” You laughed harder and Aaron gave in, laughing with you. “I think the alcohol is finally working, I’m going to go and get some fresh air,” and you slowly made your way out to the patio, taking a deep breath in.

***

Aaron smiled as he watched you glide across the floor, heading to the opened doors. If someone had told him a month ago that he would be in LA with you, pretending to be your boyfriend, he would have said they were insane. This was so out of character for him yet it felt so right being here with you. Everything about you made his heart swell; your smile and laugh, your bad jokes, the way you tuck your hair behind your ears. But tonight, the way you looked in that red dress just took his breath away, you were simply stunning.

He turned back to the bar and asked for another scotch which the bartender handed over.

“I’ll have the same.” Someone said from beside him, he turned to look at the man. He had a long overgrown beard that definitely needed trimming and a rather bad fitting suit on. “Partying alone?” The man asked Aaron.

“No, my girlfriend has just gone to get a breath of fresh air.” He replied. “You?”

“All by myself tonight being painfully taunted by my ex-girlfriend.” Said the man with a sigh, taking a large gulp of his scotch.

‘Surely this isn’t Luke?’ Aaron thought to himself as he attempted to profile his mannerisms and appearance.

“Yeah she seems to be trying to make me jealous. She claims she has a boyfriend but I’m yet to see him with her. She’s desperate to show me what I’m certainly not missing.” He continued and Aaron immediately realised that this was indeed your ex-boyfriend. The bitter tone as he spoke about you so rudely was enough to make Aaron want to use all his FBI combat training but he refrained so not to cause a scene. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Aaron saw you striding effortlessly in your heels across the room to him.

*** You looked over the gorgeous gardens as you stood in the early evening, the sun beginning to set. While your sister may be an insufferable bridezilla, she knew how to pick a beautiful venue. You downed the last drop of your scotch and turned to look back inside at the party. Your sister and her fiancé Thomas were chatting to your dad, your mom was telling some extravagant story to a group of people who were laughing along and Aaron…

You looked for him and saw him where you had left him at the bar and talking to…Luke!

“Oh shit!“ you shouted out loud and received a couple of unimpressed stares from some guests who were admiring the gardens as well. You put the glass in your hand down on the nearest table you could find and hastily strode across the room to get to them. Without taking a single look at Luke, you wrapped your arms around Aaron and kissed him hard on the lips. His initial shock wore off almost instantly as he melted into the kiss, placing his free hand on the small of your back, kissing you back. It felt so perfect, so right and little did you know, Aaron felt the exact same.

You pulled back abruptly and turned to see Luke with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“Luke!” You faked surprise. “I didn’t see you there. Have you two met?” You asked, motioning between him and Aaron.

“Not… not formally.” Luke replied bluntly.

“Oh! Well Luke, this is my boyfriend Aaron.” You smiled, moving so Aaron could offer his usual handshake which Luke shook reluctantly.

“I… er, I should go and find Thomas.” Luke said monotonously and he scampered away before you or Aaron could say anything to him.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to Aaron. “Oh my god! That wasn’t too much was it?” You asked him frantically and Aaron just laughed.

“No, not at all. It was just a surprise is all.” He smiled sweetly.

“God I’m so sorry! And I’ve got lipstick all on your lips, hang on.” You frantically grabbed a napkin from the bar and started to wipe his lips clean of your red lipstick.

The concentration on your face made Aaron smile and he watched you with such adoration.

“Thank you.” He murmured and you looked too see him smiling at you. Heat rose to your cheeks, the way he looked you made you feel like a pre-teen again. You were about to speak when the sound of a glass being tapped silenced everyone in the bar.

“If I could please have your attention.” The voice of your mother filled the room.

“Jesus. Prepare yourself for the second-hand embarrassment from my mother speaking publicly.” You whispered to Aaron and he chuckled.

“Thank you all for coming to celebrate the engagement of my beautiful daughter Sarah and her fiancé Thomas. We have been waiting for a wedding in this family for a very long time now. We of course thought Y/N would be the first one down the aisle.” The mention of your name immediately caused a lot of looks from around the room focused on you, a couple of murmurs too and you cursed in your head whoever let your mom make a speech while feeling the affects of alcohol. However, the feeling of Aaron snaking his arm around your hips and holding you close made you relax and you tried to ignore your mom’s speech but luckily, your dad interjected and took over.

“To Sarah and Thomas!” He cheered raising a class and everyone followed suit.

“Are you ok?” Aaron whispered quietly into your ear and all you could do was nod.

***

As soon as you walked into your bedroom, you kicked off you heels and threw yourself onto the bed. Aaron walked in a couple of seconds later, loosening his tie and undoing his top button.

“That was simply awful.” You groaned into the pillow.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Aaron said as he sat down next to you on the bed, starting to unlace his shoes.

“Easy for you to say.” You huffed. “When you were talking to Luke, what was he saying?”

Aaron hesitated, debating whether or not to share the whole conversation but he settled on telling the truth. “He said you were trying hard to make him jealous and he didn’t believe you had a boyfriend.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and sat up abruptly. “He is such a dick!” You exclaim. “How did I deal with it for 5 years?”

“What exactly happened when he broke up with you?” Aaron asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

You took a deep breath. It was about time you shared the full story, no one knew it other than you and Luke. You hadn’t realised but Aaron had placed his hand on top of yours and engulfed it completely.

“It’s ok. Take your time.” He said with such care and kindness in his voice.

“Well, it was on our anniversary of all days. I guess we had been having some rocky patches, he didn’t like the idea of me moving to Washington and he especially didn’t like the idea of me joining the FBI. Luke is the reason it took me so long to apply for the BAU and when I finally did and told him, he was so annoyed!” Tears started to well in your eyes as you remember just how horrible the fight was and Aaron’s grip on your hand tightened which comforted you. “I ignored just how bad the fight was because everyone said it was normal but looking back, he was such a…”

“Fucking asshole.” Aaron interjected.

“Exactly. He’s exactly that.” You say. “The day he dumped me, everyone had got inside my head saying he was going to propose. My mom, sister and even his mom thought he was proposing. That’s why it hurt so bad, we were even… intimate the night before he dumped me.” Anger flared inside Aaron. How could anyone ever treat you like that? If he didn’t already hate Luke from his brief meeting with him this morning, he definitely hated him now. “No one really knew what to say to me, I was so heartbroken. I had to move back in with my parents and that’s when I decided I’d had enough and I packed up everything to come to Washington.”

“And thank god you did.” Aaron said with a smile. “The team wouldn’t work without you.” And you laughed.

“I’m going to go and get ready for bed.” You said, standing up and heading to the bathroom.

Once you locked yourself in the bathroom, you released a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. You just spilled your guts to Aaron and yet, you still knew so little about him.

***

Aaron was laying in bed when you came back from fetching a glass of water from the kitchen and you laughed.

“What’s funny now?” He asked, his voice slightly muffled from how he was laying with his head deep in the pillow.

“You’re too tall for the bed.” You giggled, walking round and placing the glass down on the bedside cabinet. You then pulled back the covers to climb in yourself. “When there’s two people in the bed, it makes me realise just how small it is.”

“I can sleep on the floor if that would be better?” Aaron offered, preparing to get out of bed.

“Don’t be stupid. You’ll get a bad back.” You said, shuffling to reposition more comfortably. “We’re just going to have to squeeze together. This is so cliché. The one bed trope from those cheesy romance books I read in college.” You groaned. “Thank you, again, for doing this for me though.”

“Stop thanking me Y/N, I wanted to help you.” Aaron replied, rolling over so he could face you.

Maybe it was the liquid courage still flowing through you from the party, but you lifted you hand and placed it on Aaron’s cheek, taking in all his features.

“You’re so handsome.” You mumbled, running your thumb across his lips and heat rose to Aaron’s cheeks before you leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. Aaron immediately reciprocated, his hand moving to your hip so naturally, gripping it tightly as the kiss grew more heated between you. His mouth trailed down your neck, sucking lightly at the base which elicited a small moan from your lips. This was the most intimate you had been with someone in a long time and it felt so right to be doing it with Aaron. But suddenly and abruptly, Aaron pulled away.

“Wha… what’s wrong?” You asked breathlessly, lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Maybe we should stop before we do something we’ll regret.” He replied, moving his hand from your hip.

“But?…” you paused. Maybe he was right, sex could make things awkward. Sex could ruin your friendship. Sex could fuck up this whole arrangement. “Yeah… yeah you’re right. Erm, goodnight Aaron.” You said reluctantly and turned over to face the wall.

“Night Y/N.” You heard Aaron mumble before you drifted off to sleep.

***

Aaron woke from the bright Los Angeles sun peeking through the gap in the curtain, he looked next to him at you. You had manoeuvred during the night and were sweetly nestled into Aaron’s torso, his arm wrapped around you.

‘It was right to stop last night.’ Aaron tried to convince himself. ‘If we had slept together, it would have only overcomplicated things.’

Aaron kept these thought stirring in his head to persuade himself that he made the right call. He leaned backwards carefully so not to disturb you to reach his watch. The hands read 6:08am. He was always an early bird as it was these early mornings where Aaron felt most at ease. He carefully moved his arm from where it was wrapped around you, trying his best not to wake you. You stirred a little before rolling over, still sound asleep. He grabbed his running gear he had packed with him just in case and began to change, glancing around the room for some paper. Once he was fully dressed, he wandered over to the desk and opened a draw to reveal a stack of bright pink post-it notes. Pink was clearly your favourite colour growing up he noted in his head. He scribbled down a message on the post-it and stuck it on the empty glass on your cabinet.

He quietly walked down the stairs, trying not to disturb your parents but was shocked when he saw your dad sat at the dinning table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper.

“We haven’t scared you off have we?” Your dad asked with a laugh.

“No sir.” Aaron chuckled. “Just heading out for a run before Y/N wakes up.”

“I’d ask to join you but my running days are behind me.” Your dad said. “Venice Beach was always my favourite place to run, I recommend it for your route today.”

“Thank you sir, I’ll keep it in mind.”

***

You woke up surprised to find the bed empty, the mattress cold. You stretched to try and wake yourself up before turning to the bedside cabinet to check the time on the clock but a pink post-it caught your attention. You picked it up and read Aaron’s scruffy handwriting: ‘Gone for a run, back soon x’. The kiss at the end taunted you as memories of yesterday flashed through your head. Kissing Aaron Hotchner was something you never thought would happen in a million years, yet here you were.

You pulled the duvet back and climbed out of bed, grabbing your phone and trying to turn it on but it was out of charge.

“For fucks sake.” You mutter and scavenge through your bags to find the charger. “It has to be somewhere!” You thought out loud.

“What are you looking for?” Came the deep voice of Aaron out of nowhere.

“Shit! You made me jump!” You exclaim and stand up, turning to look at him. Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in his appearance. The tight shirt he was wearing accentuated his arms and the running shorts showed off his muscular thighs. The glimmer of sweat on his face and the glow of heat from the exercise made him look even more handsome than usual. This was a look you could get used to seeing everyday.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He chuckled. “If you’re looking for your charger, it’s in the big suitcase over there.” He pointed to the case that sat near the wardrobe.

“Thanks.” You say and unzip the case, reaching in to look for the cable. As soon as you fished it out the case, you plugged it in quickly and waited for the phone to get some charge.

“I’m just going to have a quick shower and then I thought we could head out for some breakfast?” Aaron suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds good. We’ve been here a day and I already need a couple of hours away from my family.” You joked and Aaron nodded with understanding.

Immediately after he closed the door to the bathroom and you heard the water running, you turned your phone on and quickly typed a message out to Emily.

7:54AM | Y/N L/N: Help!!! I think I’m falling in love with Aaron.

7:57AM | Emily Prentiss: I did warn you it would happen! What went down at the engagement party?

7:59AM | Y/N L/N: My ex is still a dick as predicted. I kissed Aaron right in front of him and you should have seen his face LOL!

8:01AM |Emily Prentiss: Did anything other than kissing happen last night? ;)

8:02AM | Y/N L/N: Shut up.

8:04AM | Emily Prentiss: Ha! You didn’t answer my question which tells me YES! Something else did happen! Spill!

8:07AM | Y/N L/N: Fine! We made out a little after the party and I think we were going to have sex but Aaron said we should stop before we did something we might regret which was of course the right decision.

8:10AM | Emily Prentiss: OH MY GOD! Of course he said that, he is so down bad for you. He knows once you have sex with each other, there is no running away from his feelings. You need to sleep with him, I bet he’s actually quite good in bed. Do you think he’s as authoritative in bed as he is when we’re on a case?

8:12AM | Y/N L/N: Emily! Stop it! I have to go, I can hear Aaron coming out the shower.

And you switched your phone off before another text could come through from Emily. She was so enjoying this too much.

***

“Any idea where we should go for breakfast?” Aaron asked you.

“There’s this really amazing brunch bar near Santa Monica pier, I used to go there all the time with Sarah.”

“Sounds perfect.” He smiled as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Your mom called from the kitchen.

You and Aaron saw her standing at the kitchen island drinking a fluorescent green smoothie.

“What’s up mom?”

“Ahh perfect! You’re both here. Sarah wanted me to ask you if you and Aaron could join her and Thomas for one of their last minute dance lessons.” She said excitedly.

You groaned like a miserable teenager. “Do we really have to? Aaron was just about to take me for brunch.”

“Yes! It will be great fun.”

You knew then, there was absolutely no getting out of this one.

***

The Wedding Date Taglist: @wanniiieeee @notsopersonalcharlie @blackeyedangel9805 @preciousbabypeter @stxlemate @twilightlover2007 @justarandommom @impala1967dwinchester @spencermiromantiko @julyhoney @thecubanator2 @xphantomphanphanaticx @lawlesshedgehog @louderfortheback @ssamorganhotchner @essenceproxima @lespendy @stiles-argent24 @rousethemouse @tvdstelenaforever @wandererseye @bibella8swan @yourfavunsub @bibimangines @lou-the-confused-bisexual @realm8626 @sophiaj650 @bylones @howabouticallyou @madz-19 @hotchnerxo @supercriminalbean @jayxox @sweetpeterparker @mina2000alex

I tagged those who commented and reblogged part one. Let me know if you want to be removed or tagged🫶🏻

***

Part three

#aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #hotch x reader #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds #fake dating #fake dating au #the wedding date

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justash02 · 1 year

Text

Womanizer; 06

A/n; lemme know if you have feedback! It’s always welcome! So are Requests! Text me! I’m nice:>

Plot; Everyone who knew who Tom Kaulitz was knew that he was girl crazy, he's very well known for having girls around him all the time.

Pairing; Tom Kaulitz x fem reader.

Previous chapter -> next chapter.

Master list

Taglist<3

*^*^*

"I could be a better boyfriend then him."

Tom's POV;

Her lips, her eyes, the way her soft skin felt against my hands... everything about her makes me go crazy.

I've never felt this way before, is this what others mean when they say that they are in love? When I first met her my intention was just to get her in bed.

Because even though I didn't feel like this at first I definitely felt some strong attraction to the girl. But not like this. Not like after I felt how well our lips fitted together.

*^*^*

Y/n's POV

"Ready to go babes?" Clair asked standing in the doorway looking at me working my magic with some makeup. She didn't say anything and went over to sit on Adams bed.

Ray had worked his magic and got us on one of the hottest guest lists at the moment.

"Adams been weird lately, don't you think?" She asked caressing the well made bed, I stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. Day in day out the only thing that has been on my mind is Tom.

Magazines have been full of speculation on our relationship, fans on the other hand thought I was Tom's play thing for a while before he got bored of me and went over to next girl.

"Yeah." I said, trying to ignore the burning pain in my ribcage. "But if he wants to be a dick that's his problem." I said trying to keep that mind set.

In reality, it did hurt. Adam and I have known each other for a few years and in that time we've gotten close but lately he spend more and more time away from the house and only comes when it's absolutely.

"I think he's slacking." Clair said, studying my face to find some sort of agreement from me, and she found it.

If me kissing a boy for a music video does this much to him maybe he shouldn't be our leader.

"I think he has feelings for you." She stated, i stood still for a second before closing my lip tint and turned around to look at her.

"Doesn't give him the right to neglect his work, nor ours."

*^*^*

When we arrived at the party we found out it was being held at an gigantic villa, Ben pulled up at the parking space with his Blue Opel Corsa and let us get out.

Clair went over to my door and let me out while I was looking in my bag for my phone, I smiled at her affectionately before grabbing her hand she as holding out and quickly got to my feet.

It didn't take me long to realize that Adam was pulling Ben away with him, rushing inside, probably to not have to talk to me.

He hasn't really talked to me for a last few days and honestly I'm so over his bullshit.

I held out my arm for Clair and she gladly took it, tonight was about the band and making a good appearance, not about Adam and his childish ways.

We soon got inside and the music was blasting loudly over the speakers, people were making out here and there, some were even doing drugs.

"Yo, this is extremely illegal." Clair yelled over the loud music, "Yeah, they probably got it from the Netherlands." I yelled back.

She just nodded and looked around the small part of this gigantic house and spotted all to familiar people.

"Oh good! It's tokio hotel!" She yelled pulling me with her over to the boys, I smacked into a few people but Clair didn't care and kept pulling me with her.

Soon we reached the boys, "Y/n! Clair!" Gustav yelled as he was the first to notice us, walking over to us pulling us in a quick hug, bill quickly looked up at me and walked over to me to give me a long hug.

"How's my best girl?" He asked gently rocking us back and forth, the nickname made me blush a bit but I didn't care.

"I'm really hungry." I said groaning making him laugh, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder before telling me he knew the people hosting this party so he could fix something for me.

Clair was already sitting down with Gustav and Georg so I asked if she would mind if we got some food really quick and she didn't mind.

"Call me if something's wrong ok?" She smiled and nodded before shooing us away, we bursted into laughing before Bill pulled me over to the kitchen.

Soon we got there and the kitchen was bigger then our whole living room, my jaw dropped a bit before studying the room we were in.

"What are you craving?" Bill asked opening up some doors. I walked over to him, pulling his arm up to go under it because damn this dudes tall asf.

He instinctively rested his arm around my shoulder letting me look, "This looks good!" I said grabbing one of the many pizza boxes on the counter opening them up.

I opened it up and it were my favorite toppings so obviously I grabbed a slice from that. "Toms been acting weird lately." He suddenly said.

"Oh?" I questioned looking back at him with a bite of pizza in my mouth, "I don't know, he hasn't had girls over at all lately. It's weird for him."

"Why do you think that is?" I asked, he shrugged before grabbing one of the red cups that were on the counter, "Maybe he has feelings for you."

"Ha, funny joke." I said before bitting into the pizza once more, tasting the greasy goodness. "I'm not joking! Call it twin instinct if you will. I'm calling that he's obsessing over you." He said poring himself a drink.

"Don't get my hopes up." I practically begged as went over to stand next to him, "He would be an idiot if he wouldn't be." He smiled, wrapping an arm around me once again. "Besides i know you like him back."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I laughed nervously making him scoff at me, "It's completely obvious! The way you guys were kissing?" He suggested.

"Fine! I might like him a bit, but I highly doubt he would like me back." I said, leaning into his side.

His scent filled my nose calming me down, he ran his fingers through my hair, "You deserve someone who takes good care of you." He mumbled before gently kissing my forehead.

*^*^*

Taglist; @oh-kurva @ajaxisbae @thatoneweirdweebsimp @erensslutt @mycherry-melody

#cute imagines #x reader #imagines #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill haulitz #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #womanizer

550 notes · View notes

beetlejuicyy · 6 months

Note

How about Bada lee angst based from a song, exile - Taylor swift. Bada in Bon iver pov while reader's Taylor. Sorry if there's any mistakes in my grammar, English is not my first language

Exile

Pairing: Bada Lee x idol! reader

Synopsys: you and Bada meet at the the W party after your break up

Warnings: angst

Notes: i love writing based on songs apparently. ty anon for requesting this and i hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

She couldn’t say she didn’t expect you to be here. The W party meant famous guests and a great chance to networking. Bada would lie if she said a part of her was not happy to see you after so long. But she didn’t expect you to be on a man’s arm. And you were ironically enough sitting at the same table just across each other.

I can see you standing, honey

With his arms around your body

Laughin’, but the joke’s not funny at all

You were your ever charming self, paying attention to every word he said, laughing whenever he made some stupid jokes even a middle school kid would find cringe. You were wearing a classic little black dress that fit your body like a glove. You were as gorgeous as she remembered. Of course she saw you everywhere; makeup advertising, promoting your new song, thirst traps on tiktok. You haven’t been in touch for a while but she always kept an eye on you, no matter how ugly things ended between the two of you.

Now you showed up here with that creature. He wasn’t even handsome. It took her utmost control to keep smiling and navigate through all those people, exchange compliments as a possible beginning for future projects. But you were always somewhere in the corner of her vision, introducing your partner to people. Fans on the internet were saying it was just promotions for your new role in a drama. Other people said you were dating for real. She couldn’t tell.

And it took you five whole minutes

To pack us up and leave me with it

Holdin’ all this love out here in the hall

She showed her cool self as always, although, as she stepped on the carpet in front of all the cameras, the lights blinded her and for a moment she felt like running. Bada was still in love with you, she was very much aware of it. As she walked to the sea of people, finding familiar faces that brought her comfort, she tried to hide the toll your presence was taking on her mood. You were the one who broke up with her after all, she could find the minimal amount of dignity left in her to look fine at least.

She couldn’t ignore you though. You worked together before and everyone knew you were close. You flashed her a dangerously frozen smile, large and perfect, the kind you had to rehearse for. On the outside it looked friendly and excited but behind your eyes was emptiness. She waved her hand back at you from the distance, faking excitement. Your partner must have known her because he waved too, eager to get to know Bada Lee, the dancer with all the spotlight on her at the moment. You dragged him somewhere else, away from her.

I think I’ve seen this film before

And I didn’t like the ending

You’re not my homeland anymore

So what am I defending now?

Bada knew she had no right to be jealous. Your relationship was over a long time ago. But the seed of hope buried in her heart gave birth to the thought of talking to you alone. You had broken up several times and made up the moment you stumbled upon each other again. Maybe this could be one of those times when you would realize you loved her more than your ego allowed you to.

The hardest part was finding out you were seated at the same table, across each other nonetheless. She was well aware that death stares at your partner would be obvious. So she looked at you instead. Elegant and delightful, you looked around carefully, making sure you greeted everyone around the table while maintaining your graceful posture. Bada’s stare softened, remembering seeing you after schedule, when you would throw away your high heels and devour the biggest portion of instant ramen she had at home. Carefree and natural, loud and dramatic, full of life. That’s how she knew you. And she knew that behind the meticulously planned behavior you displayed, you were still the same girl she fell for. But you weren’t together anymore.

Taking another sip of champagne, she quietly went backstage to change her outfit for the performance. She had to let go of these regretful thoughts that didn’t fit at all with her dance tonight. She had to be powerful and charming, deliver what the people liked. What you liked.

I can see you starin’, honey

Like he’s just your understudy

Like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me

You noticed Bada’s eyes were lost lingering on your figure. You were used to people staring at you, especially when you were the main attraction in an expensive outfit at the top of the guest list. But her eyes always unsettled you.

It wasn’t a surprise for you that she was here. After all you had friends working at W who generously updated you with the full guest list before the event. But by the time you found out she was going to be here too it was too late to talk to your manager and go without a partner. You had to promote your upcoming drama in every way possible. But you wished you could have been here alone in front of her.

You noticed, of course you noticed how she was staring at him, questions popping in her head. You knew her better than you knew yourself. And maybe that’s why you weren’t together anymore. Had it not been this time and place, she would have started messing the poor man up out of jealousy. But he had no fault. He was a young guy with a dream of making it big, having just landed the role of his life with you.

Second, third, and hundredth chance

Balancin’ on breaking branches

Those eyes add insult to injury

You looked back at her a couple of times across the table, trying to hide the hurricane of feelings in your chest. How many unresolved issues you had? You stopped counting long ago. Her eyes were cloudy and lost, at times it seemed like she was looking through you. She never tried hard enough to make it work, and loving each other like crazy was not enough to fix things. Or was it?

She seemed happy and excited to be here, you followed her at all times form under your lashes. You were proud of her for winning the competition, but any more than the simple congratulatory text you had sent her would have pushed you back in the same cycle. Breaking up and making up like none of you could make up their mind for good.

I think I’ve seen this film before

And I didn’t like the ending

I’m not your problem anymore

So who am I offending now?

Although you were at work, although all eyes were on you, although you haven’t spoken in months, although she never listened to your complaints, she was looking at you like you belonged to her. Like you betrayed her by showing up with someone else. You wished she would just look the other way so it would be easier for the both of you. Instead, you had to play this stupid game of looking like the total opposite of what you were feeling, deciphering each other’s body language and fake smiles, pushing through the shock of seeing each other in order to portray the role you had to play.

When she performed she was breathtaking like she always was to you. Her facial expressions, the way she would enjoy the song, play along with the audience, her flirty looks for the camera all of those things melted your heart once again, after months and months of trying to lock it up.

I think I’ve seen this film before

And I didn’t like the ending

You cheered for her. You had been supporting her all this time from afar anyway. But you could sense the shift in your heart and recognize the same pattern that always led to your making up. You swore to her on the night you broke up that it was the last time. You simply couldn’t work out. With every time you went back to each other your issues grew deeper and deeper the more you avoided talking about them.

You quietly excused yourself to the bathroom after the performance, a perfect moment to disappear unnoticed. You took a good look at yourself in the mirror. Perfect, without a single trace of the pain you felt inside.

So step right out, there is no amount

Of crying I can do for you

You had ran out of tears long ago. You only needed time to breathe, a break from the theatre play you had been performing tonight. You could go back makeup untouched, voice cheerful in any minute. Because you weren’t going to cry because of her.

I couldn’t turn things around

‘Cause you never gave a warning sign

Bada was taken over by the people requesting pictures and sharing impressions on their performance. She saw you watching, she was sure, but where did you disappear now? She never knew what you were up to, what you were truly feeling or thinking. You knew so well how to hide the ugly aspects of life that you hid from her too, even unintentionally. She couldn’t know you were in the bathroom almost crying because you never looked the least affected by her.

Your partner showed up in front of her, as he had been waiting in line to get the chance to exchange some words of admiration. Bada greeted him politely, like any other person. He seemed to know nothing of your history.

Now I’m in exile, seein’ you out

You appeared out of nowhere, grabbing him by the arm, apologizing once again for disappearing. As close as you were, the closest you had been the entire night, you felt like an invisible wall separated the two of you. It was your cue, your turn to tell her how amazing she was on the stage. Your lines were already thought and well aligned with the social script like always.

“I can’t wait to watch your new drama.” She took you by surprise, and you lost your composure for a moment. Your partner laughed and thanked her. You wanted to reach out and grab her hand run away right then.

Now I’m in exile, seein’ you out

But there was this wall between you, separating what you had been from what you were now.

“You’re as good at dance as I remember.” You chimed in, earning a shy smile from her as she looked to the ground, thanking you. That’s all you could do. “See you around, Bada.” You said, your voice taken over by the nostalgia you had been feeling the entire night. The words weighted heavier than you had planned in your head and you wondered whether it was a mistake.

“I’ll be around for sure.” She said. The other members of Bebe called for her to take a group picture. With awkward smiles and lingering eyes that yearned for each other you both turned around, tending to your own business.

#bada lee #bada lee imagine #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader

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uzurimisery · 5 months

Text

chapter 6: the fold. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 5k

Warnings: MDNI, he's still insane and possessive, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read

The time between then and the engagement party had felt short, going by too quickly, a whirlwind passing through you. It would be wrong to say you weren’t nervous, the sensation gripped you holding you close. Even if you did believe Coriolanus was sincere in his desire to be allies trusting him was another matter. Alliances were often forged with hidden motives.

You had seen firsthand the ruthless ambition that drove people to betray their allies, you had done the same, sacrificing presumed loyalty for personal gain. Trust was but a fragile illusion that could shatter in the blink of an eye. A fact made all the more apparent by your illusory relationship with him.

Despite the reservations, you were drawn to him. His ruthless and cunning nature mirrors your own, and there was no denying the sexual attraction between you both. But as the day of the engagement party loomed, the agitation never ceased.

You were about to take a leap of faith, place your life, your very future, and marry a man who had once been an annoyance to you. Yes, you had brought him back to the Capitol, but he had been more annoying than you thought. There was some hope, however. Coriolanus had recognised your strength, your potential, and he had been the one to extend the hand of allyship. Besides, as long as one of your parents lived he be hard-pressed to betray you.

A pin prinked at your side.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Tigris exclaimed as she rushed to soothe the wound. Her hands were cold against your skin.

“It’s alright. Hardly imagine it was intentional.”

“Of course not.” She was quick to get back to work, doing up the final adjustment stitch to ensure your dress fit perfectly.

It was simpler than Tigris had wanted it to be, insisting that your engagement party dress should be grand. You were able to convince her to focus on the wedding dress instead, which you were grateful for. Tonight could be simple, less caught up in the extravagant happenings of the Capitol. So your dress was simple. White silver chain mesh with a nude underdress and a solid white cape.

As she backed away she spoke again. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” you admit, gently passing your hands over the soft fabric of the cap. Despite the simplicity, it was elegant. Slightly understated, but it suited you.

Her eyes were lit with concern. “Don’t be,” she was reassuring, voice laced with genuine warmth. “You look amazing.”

Looking great and feeling great were different things. Tonight, you weren’t sure if you’d be feeling great.

“Thank you Tirgirs,” your voice was thick with emotion. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Are you worried about him?” She was quick to pick up on your actual concern. Coriolanus Snow.

You steeled your gaze in the mirror and straightened your shoulders, trying to regain composure. “How could I not be?”

“He cares for you…” she trailed off. “At least I think he does. He’s different with you. More like the boy I grew up with and less, well, like he is now.”

You studied your reflection, searching for any sign of turmoil within. Your hair was in order, your makeup flawless, and your dress impeccably tailored. There was not a hint of emotion showing. Perhaps the shadow of the boy Tigris knew was the glimpses of warmth that you could feel from Coriolanus.

“I care for him as well.” The truth was easy, you did care for him.

Tigris paused. “That’s good then. The only thing worse than a political marriage is one where you hate each other,” her voice held a touch of sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you turned away from the mirror. Speculation would be endless, but tonight you needed to focus on the present. Standing there trying to determine, or wish, that there was the chance for you and Coriolanus to have something real, reach your goals and build the lives you want, and have something real. The past year had been messy, with a constant fluctuation of feelings but between the lines moments had felt true. When the two of you were alone it felt real to you.

Despite his previous explanation, you refused to believe that the shock engagement had been calculated as he claimed. Somewhere inside him he cared for you, you knew it, relieved it like gospel. Faithful to the higher power of emotion, praying that it was true. That he was capable of loving you like you loved him.

“We moved past hate a long time ago.”

“That's good then.” Tigris paused for a moment, hesitating to ask the question, her eyes flicking over you. “Do you love him?”

“Love?” you echoed, voice breaking on the word.

“Yes, love,” she was persistent. “Do you love him?”

It was hard to love a man like Coriolanus Snow but you couldn’t say that you didn’t love him at this point. The months of closeness laid the ground for positive feelings, and at every turn, he surprised you. The soft touches, passionate kisses when you were alone, the unspoken emotions fogging up the air between the two of you-- they had fed the selfish desire within you to have Coriolanus to yourself. A need to have him by your side. Greedy passion clawing at your legs.

The model of love you had growing up was your parents. They weren’t a typical loving couple, unconventional in all manners, but they did love each other and worked as partners. Each picked up the slack where the other faltered. What you had with Coriolanus felt like that. The balancing act, the tipping of the scales.

There was a pause before you answered. “Does it matter?”

Your feelings towards him were inconsequential in the grand scheme. It’d be worse to have them thrown in your face and laughed at knowing that you would still be going through with the marriage for the sake of your ambition. Love and ambition were a dangerous mix.

“I think so,” Tigris was soft, hand smoothing out any wrinkles of your dress. “I’d like to think that you and I have become friends over the past year and… I’d like you to be happy. I saw what a loveless marriage did to my aunt and I don’t want the same for you.”

Her words broke you down, shattering the barriers you had up. She was always so gentle and caring, it felt like she had no ulterior motives whenever you spoke. There was one thing she wanted, and that was the best for everyone. Even Coriolanus even if she didn’t agree with his actions. Tigris was a kind and gentle soul, something so rare for the Captiol.

The truth bubbled over the surface, a moment of closeness so rarely felt. The feelings you had rationalized away, hiding them behind logic, spilling out. It hurt, like ripping off a bandage, stinging and sharp, exposing the wound.

“Must you have asked me this after my makeup was done?”You joked, trying to shake off the tears welling in your eyes.

“Sorry.”

You exhaled, breathy and burdened. “Love is a complicated feeling and a luxury I didn’t think I’d ever be able to afford. It’s hard to explain what I feel for him, I don’t even know if I understand the feeling myself. I know that I want him in my life, and the thought of him not being there, being someone I can depend on, makes me feel like I’m going crazy. He’s someone I know will always have my back as long as I have his.”

Tigris chewed on your words for a minute.

“So you do love him then?”

“If this is love, then yes I do.”

“Have you told him?”

“I can’t,” you stutter slightly. “It’d be risking everything over my feelings.”

“But do you think you can marry him without telling him? Go your entire life not telling him?”

You were terrified of that. Telling him was vulnerability and uncertainty, threading waters as the tide came in threatening to swallow you whole. Your feelings could cost you your ambition, your power, and at the furthest extreme, your life. But not telling him, marrying with this secret, was even more terrifying. Trapping yourself in a relationship with him where you could never truly voice your thoughts.

It was a cruel dilemma. The future you had always wanted, influence and control, and love. How could you risk everything for something so uncertain? How could you jeopardize everything for a man who might not even feel the same? But how could you wake up every day by his side, the feelings burning you, and expect to be fine?

“I’m afraid of what he’ll say, of what he’ll do, of losing him.”

“I know it’s easy for me to sit here and say you should tell him, but I think you should. If you do love him, you owe it to yourself to at least try.”

Her words held truth.

____________________________________

The grand ballroom of the Gaul estate was filled to the brim with the Capitol’s elite. The air seems alive with the hum of excitement, bouncing around the opulent decor, mingling with the clink of crystal glassware. Even the president, who had never been the same after the death of his son, looked to be enjoying himself. There had been no expense sparred for the engagement party, Coriolanus could only imagine what the actual wedding would cost.

Surrounded by guests, Coriolanus found himself in the company of former Academy students. The conversation had been fine at the start, but the more that they drank to more it began to grate on him.

“You know I never thought you’d be the first to get married Coriolanus,” Apollo Ring hammered on. “I figured it’d be Florus.”

“Florus! I would have bet money on Io.” Domitia Whimsiwick chimed in.

Did they all have nothing better to do than bug him? The constant chatter, the forced camaraderie irritated him, like nails on a chalkboard they drug on and on. He knew that the party was about himself and you, but god did he hate having to put up with his former classmates. They thought themselves all to be friends, which included him in it.

Of course, he engaged with them, laughing at their jokes and acting like he cared about the conversation. The whole like he was surveying the room, waiting for you so he could finally have an excuse to dismiss himself from the conversation. After 15 minutes or so, he finally saw you.

Somehow, you had gotten more beautiful. It was a subtle shift in appearance, a change so small but it made you even more attractive.

Your hair was down, curling down your back, a change from your usual updos. Previously you told him they were “more practical” for working in the lab, but he did love it when your hair was down. He watched as you flitted from guest to guest, thanking them for coming with your signature red lipstick smile.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a genuine one, breaking through his front.

“Apologies everyone,” Coriolanus placed a hand on his chest and gave a slight bow. “The future Mrs. Snow has arrived.” The group wished him well, a few jokes about him being whipped, and went back to talking amongst themselves as he left.

His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The closer he got to you the more the feeling of contentment, something he rarely if ever experienced, settled in his stomach.

“You look stunning,” he spoke while wrapping an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead, conveying the tenderness he felt. Then with practise poise, he greeted the guest you were speaking to. “You should wear your hair down more.”

You smiled up at him. “Why thank you, Mr. Snow,” if hearing your voice was the reward he got for suffering the others, he’d suffer a thousand lifetimes. “I was just speaking with Mrs. Thornton about how you’re such a charmer.”

“Guilty as charged,” Coriolanus laughed a bit while turning the conversation the the older woman. “How could I not try and charm her when she’s this beautiful?”

“Oh, young love! I’ll leave you kids alone. Congratulations on your engagement.”

Coriolanus wanted to snatch you up and take you away from here. This was the part of politics he hated the most. The show of it all. Unfortunately, he was obligated to remain here until the last guest exited the building. His arm tightened around your waist, fingers drumming against your side.

“How long do you think this will take? I’ve had my fill of pleasantries and if I have to listen to Gaius speak again I might lose it.” His exasperation at events often entertained you.

Your laughter, a melody from the heavens, danced around the air, drowning out the ringing hum of conversation around you both. “Patience, Coriolanus. This whole thing is just for us, so probably be a while before it ends. It’s not like we can sneak away either.”

“You’re the only reason I tolerate these events, you know,” he whispered in your ear, watching the shiver run down your spine as he did. “Otherwise I’d have no problem avoiding them.”

“Well now, that doesn’t sound like a man who's excited to get married.” Your eyes met his own.

“To entertain over a hundred people at an engagement party? No, I’m not excited about that. But to get married to you? That’s another thing altogether.”

There was sincerity in his words. As much as he hated the required socialising, he was excited to marry you, to finally have a visible form of ownership of you. The prospect of sharing life with you added to that. He could taste the future on his tongue. One filled with you, laughter, and love. One where the two of you sat upon a gilded throne and ruled over Panem together.

“Are you excited then? To marry me?”

Warmth blossomed in his chest as Coriolanus gazed into your eyes. You were letting him see through the cracks and into your anxiety about the situation. You were still worried that he regretted the choice.

“Of course, I’m excited to marry you,” he admitted, voice soft and sincere, twinged with longing. “Who else can I trust to take over Panem with besides you?”

There was something in your eyes he couldn’t read, a flicker so quick he almost missed it. Something was wrong.

“First we have to endure this engagement party, don’t we?” you replied, cutting the conversation, while moving the two of you to continue flitting around the room and greeting guests.

It drug on for some time before finally everyone had been ushered into the gardens and the ballroom transformed into a dining experience. Coriolanus was glad, it meant there only be a few more hours until he was finally free from the party.

The ballroom had been completely transformed in just 15 minutes by the staff. Where there had been ample room for dancing, was now tables filled with placements and decor. The lighting had been lowered, with candles placed on the tables to better illuminate them, creating a romantic and intimate space. He had to admire the efficiency of your family’s staff as another team of them began leading guests to their assigned seats one by one. He, of course, would be at the table at the head of the room, next to yourself, and with both of your families.

After all the guests had been seated, Mr. Gaul rose and tapped against his champagne flute with a knife. He was well-dressed as usual, this time donning a black suit with white embroidery around the lapels. It was interesting that despite Dr. Gaul’s more prominent status, your father took over the majority of the public-facing events. Acting as her mouthpiece at a lot of them.

“Welcome, welcome everyone,” he boomed as a hush fell over the room.“I want to thank you all for joining us here tonight in celebration of what is bound to be the most influential wedding the Capitol will see this generation. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my daughter,” he spoke with a sly smile, making the guests chuckle.

Mr. Gaul paused, taking a sip of champagne, his eyes lingering on Coriolanus.

“Like any father, I had doubts on if Mr. Snow would be good enough to marry my daughter, but my doubts have been laid to rest. I’ve been lucky enough in my life to see love in all sorts of forms, and am glad to see the love shared between him and my daughter.” Coriolanus nodded at him, giving your hand a squeeze on top of the table where they were joined.

“Before I talk your ears off, my wife has a few things to say.” As your father sat, Dr. Gaul rose.

“Thank you all again for joining us this evening,” her sing-song tone echoed over the silence. “It truly is remarkable to witness the union between Gaul and Snow, two strong and powerful families coming together not for the sake of Panem, but for the sake of love.” Dr. Gaul's arms were wide as she faced the guests.

“With their love, I have no doubt this union will create a new era of prosperity and power for Panem,” she continued, resonating with pride. “Coriolanus, my sweet Y/N, you are the future of this nation, and I am confident that your union will lead us into a brighter, more prosperous future.”

The room erupted in applause, whistles and cheerings cutting through. Coriolanus felt drawn closer to you at the moment, your hand in his sending a jolt of electricity across his skin and through his veins. The implications of your marriage were transparent. Once the two of you were wed, even now before that, it was clear that the future of Panem was dependent on the two of you. To the untrained eye it was a beacon of hope, a promise of prosperity, unknowing that Coriolanus and yourself were ruthless. You would rewrite the narrative of Panem, and transform it into something of your choosing.

Beyond that, it was finally having you to himself. No more barrier between himself and access to you. It was a victory. His gross and sickly feelings of obsession, lust, and love, are being rewarded after months of wanting you. Your attention, your affection, your very being his. You were his prize, his trophy, his ultimate conquest and he’d place you on the highest throne beside his own.

As the cheering died down, servants came in with trolleys full of food. The air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, succulent meats, and vibrant exotic fruits. All just for the first course, as the guests began engaging in their own conversations, all of them sheep.

He turned to you, voice low with anticipation, possession threatening to spill. “Soon all of this will be ours. Snow and Gaul leading the nation.”

You turned, facing him, big doe eyes peering up through your lashes. He wanted to make you cry again, watch the tears pool and trickle down your cheeks. It was neither the time nor the place, but he wanted to-- no needed to-- be inside you. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Tonight,” his teeth nipped at the ridge. “We begin our reign. We will conquer Panem, and we will rule it with an iron first.” Coriolanus pulled away, moving to give you a chaste kiss.

When he kissed you, you didn’t smile into it like you normally did. You were passive, emotionless, simply going through the motions of it. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. What had changed in the short hours he had been apart from you? Why were you suddenly pulling away from him? He wanted to press you about the issue but this wasn’t the time nor the place.

For the rest of the meal, it was all Coriolanus could think about. Worry builds with every passing minute. The gentle warmth you brought into his life now felt passive, and that passivity unsettled him. Your interactions over the past week replaying in his mind, trying to isolate the moment when the shift occurred. It had to be after you had left his side to get ready tonight. You had gotten ready with Tigris, so she could be the cause, undermining him.

The more he thought about it, the more the problem escalated. What had Tigris said to you? Did something happen while you were getting ready? The questions echo in his skull, overtaking his thoughts. Had it been something he did? Did he say or act out of place? The fear of losing your affection, coupled with the uncertainty of the situation, weighs heavily on his shoulders.

Maybe you had learned the truth: his feelings for you. You had figured out his feelings and were pulling away to avoid addressing them. He knew that there was a very real chance that you were burdened by that truth. Coriolanus grappled with the fact that his attempts at subtlety had failed, exposing him and making him vulnerable. The fear of rejection, his emotions being laid bare for you only to be met with rejection, making him nauseous.

When the meal finally ended and guests filtered out, you were missing. You had been by his side most of the night and had only gotten up to see out guests, just like he had. But now you were missing.

Coriolanus walked the estate looking for you and failing. It was like you had vanished.

He nearly screamed when Dr. Gaul appeared out of nowhere, startling him. “Looking for something, Mr. Snow?” Her smile is wide and crazed.

“Yes. I’m looking for Y/N.”

“How unsurprising. She’s in the greenhouse, and likes the solitude after events.” Just as quickly as she had shown up, she started to leave. “Oh! Don’t forget my warning Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus made his way to the greenhouse, driven by urgency and anxiety. If he could just explain things to you he could resolve the situation and ease his worries. As he entered the building, the smell of damp earth and flowers assaulted his nose, a stark contrast to the rest of the evening.

There, amidst the foliage of a massive monstera, he found you seated on a stone bench, your shoulders shaking. You were crying. The sight of it stabbed his heart as he hesitated, unsure how to approach you.

With a deep breath, he spoke, soft and slow, careful to startle you. “Y/N?” He watched you jump, rushing to swipe your eyes as he sat down next to you, your back stiffening.

“Sorry, just overwhelmed.” Your excuse was weak.

“What’s wrong? You can talk to me.” Coriolanus was not a man who pleaded or begged, but he would be a beggar if it meant calming you.

“Can I?” You looked so small in this moment, fearful like a child.

“Of course you can.”

Instead of soothing you, you only began to cry more. He felt so helpless watching your tears fall. His control and composure crumbled with every tear. The usual confidence he had waning. He wanted to understand the cause of your distress, understand why you had been so different tonight, but the answer felt further away than it did at the start. The need for answers was overshadowed by the need to make you stop crying.

His hand grabbed your own, running his thumb over the top of it as he often did. “Y/N, I want to help. Please just tell me what’s wrong?” for you it felt normal to beg.

He wants Coriolanus Snow in this moment, he was just a man, earnest and sincere, watching his lover cry and unable to comfort them. The weight of your sadness pressing against him. All he wanted was to find the right words, the right actions, the right anything, to bring you comfort and make you smile again.

“I just need to know if this is real. If I’m safe with you. If you don’t view me as another stepping stone. Because I can’t stay here, keep doing this with you, if you don’t feel the same way. It’s eating me alive.” your body wracked with sobs.

He could only watch. Coriolanus had never seen you so raw and exposed, your shoulders trembling. It was you letting him in, in every sense of the word. This is where he had to put himself on the line. Did he have enough courage to trust love one more time? To be this close? To let you see the most broken and paranoid parts of himself? To lose control?

This is what he had wanted. You broke down and begged him for the truth, your own feelings finally exposed for him. He had wanted you so overwhelmed with your own feelings that they damaged you the way his own did. But not that he got it, had you are your lowest, he hated it. Coriolanus hated seeing you cry because of him.

The decision was agonising. Fear of failure, fear of being exposed, but more so, the fear of losing you. Sitting here, listening to your choked-up sobs, mascara beginning to stream, beautiful at your lowest. The silver gown that started the change in him.

He had played such a dangerous game; he lost to himself when he started seeing you as a person. You were supposed to be nothing to him, another pawn, a reason for your mother to further his trajectory. How was he supposed to know that you’d be so perfect for him? Your strengths cover his weaknesses and his yours. Genuine connection, not possession. A revelation.

He would starve if he only ever ate on Sundays. He would starve if only had you on Sundays.

With a trembling voice, Coriolanus spoke, a final confession of his own feelings, of his sins. “I only want this with you.” his hands held your face forcing you to lock eyes. His eyes are bare of any calculation and ambition, just the depth of his feelings for you. “I look for you, always, and in everything I see. You’re in the grass, in the trees, in the lab, in everything, you’re everything to me.”

The tears streamed down your face, and he wiped them away. He was crying now. They blurred his vision, but you shone through it all. He kisses you, soft and tender, before continuing.

“I’m so incredibly flawed.” his voice was thick, the self-doubt that whispered in his ears at night leaking out. “I don’t deserve you, and I could never deserve you.”

“You’re death and rebirth to me. My reason to forgive, to let someone in. And every time you leave my side it’s like the world around me dims, and nothing shines anymore. It gets harder to breathe.”

You tore down his defences and stripped him of protection.

“I told myself I’d never let someone in like this again, to make room in my heart to house your own,” speaking it out loud felt like ripping off a bandaid.

“But I’ve never felt this way for someone before. You’ve changed me, altered me so deeply that there are parts of you that took over parts of me.”

You had changed him and made him feel compassion and empathy again. The dormant emotions he swore off now are reborn and only for you. Your being had seeped into every aspect of his own, forever informing him of you. At this moment, Coriolanus’ soul naked and in front of you, the final walls came crashing down.

“I was just so scared to admit it, to give away my final card. To admit that it all has no meaning if you’re not there beside me and that I need you to make it matter. But it’s more than that. I was scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way. I can never tell what you’re thinking, never control you like I can others, I just have to trust you.”

It hurt to expose himself. The kind of hurt that felt good. A cut on your hand that you can't stop picking at. A bruise that you prod. When you push yourself hard at the gym and wake up the next morning sore. The dull ache of injury, a reminder that through all the pain, all the suffering, you were still human. He was still human.

“I love you, Y/N. I have for months.”

His voice trembled, the admission hanging in the damp air. He had never allowed himself to feel love like this before, to surrender so completely to another person.

“I love you too,” the relief he felt was instant. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, focus on something--anything else. But I realised that I couldn’t marry you without telling you.”

Coriolanus’ hands cupped your face and he kissed you. Deeply and wholly. His touch was tender, filled with the very depths of his feelings for you, the kind that words could only partially convey. It was more than just a kiss, it was your soul's entwining. The acknowledgement that both of you had toiled over something for so long. There was no urge to control the situation, only to be in the moment with you.

As you kissed, the greenhouses faded. It was only the two of you, hearts beating in unison. The act dropped, the lines were forgotten, and the actors were just people. The politics were irrelevant. It was just the two of you, as it always should have been.

@serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad @harrysbitvh123 @secretsicanthideanymore @ayyyeeeeidk @hinata7346 @kisstheskin @sumo-b98 @duds31 @mrsjobarnes @whorefortim @joonvrs @sabrinasbd @itsmeduckieee @dangelnleif

#tdoaa #the death of an actor #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #hunger games smut #hunger games #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #uzuri writes #coriolanus snow x reader smut

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builtbykittie · 5 months

Text

Merry Christmas, darling

D.R.W x f!reader x J.T.K

Summary: your boyfriend Danny takes notice of how one of his closest friends have piqued your interest and gives you the perfect Christmas gift.

Warnings: 18+, some alcohol consumption, mentions of marijuana, SMUT, threesome(m x f x m), masturbation, orgasm denial, edging, fingering, oral(m & f rec), dirty talk, unprotected sex, slight cock warming, just pure filth.

Words: roughly 6.6k

A/N: happy holidays and merry Christmas to those who celebrate!!! For the holidays, I present to you a filthy Janny fic. (Disclaimer this fic does not have any Jake and Danny scenes. It is strictly Janny x reader!) Enjoy♥️

"Daniel?" You shout to your boyfriend from your bedroom, rummaging through your closet in just a tiny little lace bra and mini skirt.

"What baby?" Danny comes walking out from the bathroom where he was getting ready, clad in a tight-fitted turtle neck and black jeans. You flip around, your eyes widening at the sight of him "Do you know where that red-ish sweater of yours is?"

"Gotta be more specific than that babe, I own like a thousand," he snickers, languidly stepping towards you. "Oh come on. You know, the one with the dark blue stripe running through it... And it has the flower things in the stripe?" You whine, smoothing your hands over his chest as he approaches you.

"Oh yeah, it should be in there, did you look hard enough?" Danny steps closer to the closet, tossing around some hangers until "aha. Found it."

"Wow. Guess I didn't. Thanks love," you blush, taking it from him and lifting yourself slightly to place a peck on his lips before sliding it on your body. "You look gorgeous, baby," Danny tucks a loose string of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheeks and kissing your forehead. Your cheeks flush red and you can't hold back the smile growing on your lips "Daniel have you even seen yourself? You look incredible."

"What's with the good lingerie, baby?" Danny smiles "thought you only wore these for special events."

"Well, it is a Christmas party. That's gotta be a little special," you walk over to the end of your bed and grab your heels, stumbling as you put them on.

"What time does the party start again?" You slip off into the bathroom to touch up your makeup and hair. "Well," you hear Danny huff a laugh "it actually started about 20 minutes ago." Not bad, especially for you two. One of the only bad things about you two being together is that you're both bad with time.

"Okay well, I'm ready if you are," you quickly reapply your favorite lipstick and fix an awkward curl in your hair with your finger. Walking out of the bathroom, you quickly grab your purse and phone off your bed "We're lucky it didn't start almost an hour ago... Like last time."

"That wasn't even our fault," Danny laughs "You ready, beautiful?" You laugh and walk up to him, letting him sling his arm around your shoulder "I told you I was."

"Are you sure you're gonna be warm enough?" Danny pulls you even closer to him as you two start to walk out the door. "Mhm. The party is inside anyway," you lean your head into him, soaking up his warmth and breathing in his intoxicating scent.

As you two approach the car, he moves his hand to the small of your back, opening the door for you and helping you in. You quickly set up the aux as soon as Daniel starts the car, putting your playlist on shuffle and letting whatever song play.

"I have a gift for you, sweetheart. I think you'll love it," he doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes on the road. "Oh yeah? I bet I could guess," you challenge, reaching over and playing with his hair.

"Hm.. I highly doubt that," a smug smile grows on his lips, still never once glancing in your direction. A grin plays on your face "is that so?"

"Mhm."

"Is it that record I've been wanting?"

"Nope."

"The necklace?"

"Nuh uh."

"Yeah I got nothing else," you frown, turning back to face the road.

The drive is relatively short, luckily Jakes's house wasn't too far from your own. Usually, Josh would host, but the responsibility was handed to his fancy-pants twin this year.

Josh's parties were typically more put together and bustling with people, Jake's, on the other hand, were a little more reserved than that. Josh's were always packed full, from musicians he'd become friends with over the years to close friends and family. Jake's are mostly close friends and family, with a good amount of exceptions.

"I gotta talk to Jake once we get inside. You okay on your own for a little? I'll find you right after," Danny opens the door for you, shutting it and locking the car after you slip out of the seat. You quirk a brow at his words but don't think much of it "Mhm. Just make it quick."

"It won't take long at all baby, I promise," Danny kisses your head, his hand on the small of your back as he walks you through the door. Sam, standing in the hallway and talking to someone hidden behind a wall, spots you two immediately. "Hey! Look who arrived!" Sam starts to strut toward you, followed by Jake walking out from behind the wall. Oh, Jake.

Of course, you loved Danny more than anything and anyone, but every now and then you'd find yourself waking up to dreams of Jake's hands between your thighs. You're filled with guilt, sometimes to the point of going out of your way to avoid Jake. But who could blame you? You've been to a few of their shows, You've seen how Jake plays. The way his fingers dance across the fretboard, how he looks all hot and sweaty, the way he draws high-pitched wails out of his guitar.

You shake the thoughts from your head, bringing yourself back to reality. "Hey, Sam!" Holding your arms out for a hug, Sam happily accepts. "Hi, Y/N," Jake grins, taking you into a side hug. "Hello, Jacob. Merry Christmas," you match his energy with a smile.

"Well, finding him was easy, huh?" You grin, turning to face Daniel "I'll catch up with you soon, love." You give him a peck before letting them slip off to another area of the house.

"What was that?" Sam tilts his head, holding his cup up in their direction. "I dunno. Danny said he had to talk to Jake, I thought you might've known," you brush it off, seriously not thinking anything at all. "That's interesting. I'll have to get an answer out of him later."

"I can't believe your own brother didn't tell you his plans," you laugh, playfully slapping his bicep. "Is Josh here?" Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you scan around the room for that ray of sunshine everybody loves.

"Yeah, actually he came early to help get ready. He should be around here somewhere," Sam tries to figure out where his brother may be. "No way, Josh?" You jest "Well I'm gonna go look for him... and maybe get a drink. I'll talk to you later Sammy."

Making a beeline straight to the kitchen, you almost instantly hear that familiar voice. You're unsure where it's coming from until you hear that same voice call your name in front of you.

"Josh!" You watch as his face instantly lights up, quickly making his way through the room towards you. "It's so good to see you! How're you liking the party?" He smiles, that big wide grin you've grown to love.

"Merry Christmas, Josh! It's really nice, you guys did so good. The place looks beautiful," you take him into a hug, careful not to spill his drink on his white sweater. Josh quickly quirks a brow and looks behind you "Where's Daniel?"

"With Jake," you smile, "he told me he had to talk to him about something. Do you know what this is about?" Josh's brows knit together "nope."

"You're telling me neither of them told you or Sam?" You give Josh a dubious look, planting your hands on your hips. "I mean Jake had been acting smug but we had no idea Y/N I promise. Maybe it's a surprise," he playfully shakes your arm "You want a drink?"

"Yes please," you smile, pulling your phone from your purse and opening whatever app you set your eyes on first.

Taking a break from scrolling, you look around, searching for any sign of Danny and Jake. "Here," Josh approaches you, holding out a cup for you. "Thanks, Josh," you take it from him with a grin, bringing it up to your lips. It's not too strong, but it still burns as it goes down your throat, Josh knows you well.

You stand there and happily let Josh wrap you into one of his long and sometimes painful conversations, that is until Danny comes up from behind you, gently driving his fingers into your sides and scaring the shit out of you.

"God- damnit Danny!" You whine, slapping his chest. "Sorry. It was really funny though," Daniel laughs through his words, pulling the strap of your purse back over your shoulder.

Almost two hours of listening to the same couple of Christmas songs, one blunt, and three or four glasses of Jake's fine champagne and red wine later, you seemed to have lost sight of your inhibitions.

In Jake's basement, you take turns laying your head on the Kiszka brothers' and your boyfriend's shoulders as they take turns at pool.

Daniel walks up to you, that big wide smug grin plastered across his face as Jake patronizes his brothers for losing at the table. "Hey, Y/N? Can we talk, baby?"

"Uh yeah," you sit up, your brows knitted together in confusion. You let Danny take your arm and drag you through the house, sifting through every affair in your head as he takes you up the stairs.

"Daniel what is this about? Is something wrong?" He doesn't respond, taking you straight through the house and up another set of stairs, leading up to the bedrooms.

Once you realize where you're going, a smirk grows on your lips and your heartbeat speeds up significantly. Daniel backs you into a room, turning on the light just a little with Jake's fancy light 'switch'.

"Y/N, will you sit down for me?" He gestures to the large sofa chair beside the bed, you can tell he's holding back a smirk. "Danny-" he cuts you off.

Kneeling in front of you, his sweet eyes stare into yours "Y/N, remember that gift I had for you?" You nod, flashing him a confused smile. "I know you like Jake, baby," Danny reaches his arm up to move your hair out of your face and cup your hot cheek.

"What?" You feel your entire body flush. You didn't think he knew, how could he know? You don't even like him like that. "Don't act like you don't know, Y/N. I'm not mad."

A horrible feeling manifests it's way into your stomach and swirls around there. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help but feel guilty. It's just attraction, nothing more.

"Danny it's-" once again, he cuts you off. "I told you I'm not mad, sweetheart. I've seen the way you look at him. I know you want to fuck him."

"I mean yeah he's attractive but I like you, Daniel" you fidget with your own hands, trying your hardest to keep eye contact with him. "I know, I trust you sweet girl. I just want you to admit to me that you want to fuck him."

"Daniel, are you serious?" With furrowed brows, you watch him stand up and lean against the wall. "Yes. Be a good girl and tell me."

You huff a humorless laugh and drop your head to look at your lap. "Fine. Yes, Daniel. I want to fuck Jake."

"Atta girl. See how easy that was? Now tell me what about him you like," as he speaks, he removes his belt, his eyes dark and eager. You look at him with an annoyed expression, opening your mouth to protest but letting it die there once you realize he's not gonna drop it.

"Well," you decide to play into it. Have a little fun with it. You knew it was gonna lead to him fucking you either way. "You know how he gets all sweaty and his hair sticks to his neck at the concerts?"

The corners of his mouth tip up to form a smirk, nodding to tell you to continue as he starts to palm his cock through the denim. "And his hands.. the way they can move so fast across the frets and strings."

"His pretty mouth... Oh, and the way he practically fucks his-" Suddenly, the door opens. Your head instantly whips in that direction, eyes widening as you watch Jake walk through the door. With dark eyes trained directly on you, he slams the door behind him and locks it.

"Y/N, baby," Danny takes a languid step towards you, kneeling down in front of you once again. "Me and Jake have been talking about this for a while now. Will you let us fuck you, pretty girl?"

Your eyes blow wide, you want to pinch yourself and wake up, but this is all very real. "A-are you sure?" You squeak out, as quiet as a mouse. "Are you, love?" Jake leans against the bedpost, those dark eyes burning holes into your skin.

"Yes."

"Let us hear you say it, princess," Danny holds your chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Yes, please fuck me."

"Merry Christmas, darling," a sick smirk plays on Jake's lips as he slowly removes his belt. "Danny, why don't you sit down while I take care of your sweet girl here?"

"So this was that gift you had for me?" You grin, standing up and kissing him before walking over to Jake, standing pretty by the bed. "Hey princess," Jake grabs your waist, pulling you into him and instantly laying kisses to your neck.

It feels wrong, yet so right. You reach your arms out, grasping onto his hair and pulling him into you with a breathy moan. "Fuck, you see that, Daniel? So eager..."

A deep groan rumbles up from Danny's chest as he continues to tease himself, running one hand up and down his thigh while he palms himself with the other. "Come sit on my lap, baby," Jake sits down on the bed, rubbing his palm against his thigh, signaling you to sit.

Following him, you sit on his lap, now facing your boyfriend. Jake's calloused hands snake around your body as he nips at and places open mouth kisses to your neck. One of his hands sneaks under the hem of your sweater, his rough hand moving up your abdomen.

Jake's other hand runs up and down your thigh, teasing you as it comes so close to your heat. He could tell you wanted it, the way your body stiffened once his hand just grazed against your panties under your skirt while the other cups your breast.

"Y/N, baby, how bad do you want me to touch your wet little pussy? Tell me, darling. Be honest," his rough fingers kneading the meat of your inner thigh. "Please touch me, Jake. I need it so bad," you practically moan, your hips involuntarily jutting forward once his fingers just barely touch your wet panties.

"Oh yeah? You wanna fuck my fingers, doll?" Jake's hand runs along the damp lace, applying almost no pressure. You manage to mumble out an 'mhm' bucking forward into his touch, your head dropped low and your eyes clamped shut in anticipation.

Jake's hand comes out from underneath your sweater to assist you in shimmying off your panties from underneath your skirt, throwing them over to your boyfriend. Suddenly embarrassed, you try to close your legs but Jake prys them open, hooking your legs over his thighs to keep your legs apart. "Oh Daniel, look at your sweet girl. So fucking wet..."

You give your boyfriend a small smile, watching his eyes darken as he stares at your glistening core, still teasing himself. "M'gonna touch you now, okay?" Jake speaks lowly into your ear, his hand slipping back up into your sweater and pushing your bra up past your breasts.

"Please..." You moan, grasping onto his thighs for dear life. Without hesitation, his hand meets with your clit "god you're so fucking wet, Y/N. Such a pretty little cunt."

You throw your head back with a moan, resting it against Jake's shoulder as his fingers speed up, rubbing tight circles over your weeping clit. "Let yourself feel it, pretty. How good does it feel sweetheart?"

"So good, Jake. Don't stop. Please don't stop," an embarrassingly loud moan escapes your lips as he slips his ring and middle fingers into you, his thumb flicking over your clit. You start to roll your hips into him, pushing yourself down onto his fingers harder. "Fuck," you whine "Oh Jake- fuck."

"Feel it, sweetheart. Just feel it," Jake whispers in your ear, curling his fingers up into you and hitting a particularly sweet spot. "Why don't you tell your boyfriend how good my fingers feel in you, darling?" The pace of his thumb flicking over your clit significantly speeds up, his fingers sweetly fucking into you. "I've heard that you like them."

You try to speak, but as you open your mouth a pornographic moan rips through your chest. He was taunting you. Every time you went to speak he would drive his fingers deeper into you. "Well? You gonna tell him?" Jake takes your jaw in his hand, lifting your head and forcing you to look at Danny, now slowly stroking himself.

"Jake's fingers feel so fucking good," you cry, continuing to fuck his fingers harder. "Do they feel as good as they look, baby?" Daniel growls, swirling his hand around his cock as his lust-blown eyes stay trained on you. "Mhm. So fucking good," Your hand moves from Jake's thigh to his incredibly hard bulge, palming him. "Careful," he drawls out, ramming his fingers into you and pressing down on your clit with his thumb in retaliation.

"Oh, Jake! " You cry, grasping onto his wrist. "Hands to yourself. Are you gonna be a good girl? Huh?" Jake slaps your hand away from him, grabbing both of your wrists and holding them tightly behind your back with one hand.

"Hm? Maybe if you're good I'll let you cum," his fingers slow down, languidly curling up into you while his thumb presses down against your sensitive bud.

You let out a huff, your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes clamping shut. You were there. The pressure building up in your stomach grew more and more intense with each second "Jake I'm- I'm gonna-"

Just as the band in your stomach is about to snap, Jake pulls his fingers from you. You let out a weak whimper at the loss of contact, dropping your head and accepting defeat. You knew if you said something you'd be robbed of another orgasm.

Jake lets you sit there and breathe for a moment, running his hand through your hair and rubbing your thighs. "On your knees," Jake growls, gently pressing his hand against the small of your back and gesturing to the floor. "From now on you call me sir."

A grin plays on your lips as you drop to your knees, facing your boyfriend and taking your bottom lip between your teeth. "Got it?" Jake grabs your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to look at him.

"Yes, sir," you mutter, your cheeks flushed bright red. "Good girl," Jake smirks "Why don't you touch him, darling?" Jake grabs the back of your head, gently pushing it towards your boyfriend's cock, sitting up nice and pretty.

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his cock, placing tiny pecks to his tip before slowly stroking up his length. Jake kneels beside you, holding your chin and placing kisses to your neck, his other hand sneaking around to hook under your sweater "arms up."

Jake helps slip your sweater off your body after you lift your arms, throwing it across the room. You quickly go back to stroking your boyfriend, chewing on your lower lips at that familiar feeling of his cock in your hand.

"Use that pretty mouth, sweet girl," Jake takes your hair in a ponytail, open mouth kissing your shoulders. A deep groan rumbles up from Danny's chest as you take him almost fully in your mouth, your hand tightly grasped onto the base of him.

You whine against Danny's cock as Jake's other hand snakes around your body and his fingers come into contact with your clit. "Just keep going, be a good girl and don't stop," Jake whispers in your ear, his raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Shit," Danny bucks his hips up, pushing himself further to your mouth with a groan. "You're doing so good," Jake praises, his fingers dancing over your sensitive clit. Tears form in your waterline and you moan against Danny's cock as Jake's fingers press against your clit.

The vibration of your voice against his cock paired with the feeling of your soft tongue dragging up & down his length is quick to bring him to the edge. On the other hand, Jake is killing you. His fingers dance along your clit, then quickly pull away as his lips drag along your neck. He repeats that sinister cycle over & over, driving you absolutely crazy.

Warm tears fall from your eyes as you try to ignore both your gag reflex and Jake teasing you. "Oh fuck," Danny groans, his hips jutting up and his cock twitching in your mouth. "You gonna let him fill up your pretty little mouth?" Jake speaks in between sloppy kisses to your back and neck.

Your eyebrows knit together, humming against your boyfriend and frantically nodding your head. "Shit Y/N- fuck," your hand squeezes around him and you take him deeper in your mouth, as if that was even possible. A harsh groan rips through Danny's chest as warm ropes of ivory paint your throat, instantly swallowing it all down.

"Fuck, Y/N you're so good," Jake takes your hair in his hands, forcing you to look up so that he can attack your neck. He stops at a soft spot behind your ear, babying it for a moment, eliciting whimpers from you before moving further down. "So sensitive.." Jake brings his arm around your body, toying with your breast.

"Get on the bed, princess," Danny slowly rises from his seat, Jake following after him. You wish you could sit there and admire the way they look hovering over you, their masculine statures making you feel so tiny.

"Aw she's all intimidated," Jake smirks down at you, resting his hands on his hips. "Are we making you nervous, love?" Danny leans down and pets your hair before grabbing your arm and pulling you up.

Jake takes you in his arms and practically throws you on the bed, quickly climbing on and spreading your legs apart. "You gonna let us use you? Hm? Like our little toy?" Jake purrs, flexing his fingers into your thigh. "Please..." you practically moan, the near animalistic way he's acting makes your cunt throb, begging to be touched in any way possible.

Your boyfriend sits beside you, his lips instantly finding your necks as Jake draws a slow line of kisses up your leg. "Please," you whine, leaning your head back, granting Danny more access to your neck and spreading your legs even further for Jake.

"Poor girl wants it so bad," Jake mutters "and she's been so obedient." You feel Danny snicker against your neck, his hand coming up to knead your breast. "Please what, my girl?" Danny's kisses go lower and lower, his hands snaking behind your back to unclasp your bra.

You start to get fed up. "Please just fuck me. I don't care which one of you it is," you whine, grasping onto Danny's hair. "Oh sweetheart..." Jake smiles up at you, flexing his hand into the meat of your thigh "you can't always get what you want, y'know."

"Jacob, I have been nothing but submissive and sweet for you both an-" you interrupt yourself with a moan as Jake's fingers just barely come into contact with your needy clit. "Aww, can't you wait just a little longer, darling?" Jake lays kisses near your heat, kissing everywhere but the spot where you're aching for him.

"No, Jake. I-I can't," you whine and buck your hips up after Jake lays a kiss to your clit. "You're forgetting something, Y/N." Jake's cocky tone makes you roll your eyes, your hands massaging Danny's scalp as he continues to suck hickeys onto the skin of your clavicle. "You call me sir."

Jake's lips attach to your clit, a loud, desperate moan flying past your lips at the contact. "You gonna be a good girl and stop whining now? Hm?" He speaks between kisses to your soaked cunt. "Y-yes, sir," one of your hands let go of Danny's head to grasp onto Jake's hair.

"Oh fuck," you cry, involuntarily jutting your hips against Jake's mouth. "Mm, does that mouth of his feel good baby?" Daniel asks just before taking your nipple in his mouth, circling it with his tongue. "Mhm. So good," you breathlessly moan, rolling your hips into Jake's tongue.

Without warning, Jake slides two fingers into you. A loud, almost pornographic moan rips through your chest at the feeling. "She's so noisy," Jake chuckles, sharply curling his fingers up into a sensitive spot. You feel Danny snicker against your breast in agreement, sucking the supple skin of your breast into his mouth.

Jake finds a spot that makes you cry the loudest, babying that area until you're nothing but a sweaty, whimpering mess. "Oh god Jake please," your back comes up off the bed, squeaky breaths and moans flying from your open mouth. "That's not it, doll," Jake sends a sharp thrust of his fingers into you before sucking your clit into his mouth.

"Please sir," you cry, on the verge of tears. You feel Jake snicker against your heat, rewarding you with a sweet curl of his fingers up into you. Your eyes roll back into your head, your hands flying to Danny's back and digging into his muscle.

"Holy shit. I'm gonna- oh fuck," your thighs tremble and your fingers dig so deep into Danny's back you fear you might've broken skin.

For the second time, Jake completely pulls away from you. "I'm sorry sweetheart I promise you can cum soon. Just be patient love," Danny hums, pressing a sweet kiss to the base of your neck.

"Such a good girl," Jake praises, smoothing his hands over your thighs. Jake and Danny switch places, Danny settling in between your thighs as Jake's lips smash against your jaw.

"You ready, princess?" Danny grasps the base of his cock, pumping at a painfully slow pace. "Please fuck me, Danny," you moan, reaching down to toy with your clit. Jake chuckles against your neck at your response to Danny, sitting up to unbutton his pants.

As Danny teases your entrance, you reach over to unbutton Jake's shirt, your hands shakily fumbling the buttons. Jake gets his pants down, revealing the incredible tent in his boxers.

Jake juts his hips forward and pets your hair, silently telling you to touch him. Just as you grab his cock, Danny slowly starts to sink his tip into you, a whimper falling past your lips and your hands growing even more shaky.

"c'mon sweetheart. Just focus," Jake runs his hands through your hair, his hips slightly swiveling. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you pull Jake's cock from his boxers. You marvel at it for a moment, taking in all the veins and admiring how hard he is in your hand. He's even bigger than you'd expected, and not to mention, deliciously thick.

"She's in awe, Daniel," Jake snickers, moving a damp piece of hair that was stuck to your face. You hear a low laugh come from Danny's chest as you start to stroke Jake's cock.

Your hands tremble around Jake as Danny continuously teases your cunt, desperate whines falling past your lips. "Let me feel your pretty little mouth, darlin," Jake purrs, his hips jutting forward.

Without hesitation, you take him in you mouth. At the same time, Danny slides into you and stretches you out with one painfully slow thrust. You mumble and moan against Jake, one of your hands finding Danny's locs of curls.

Jake grabs the back of your head, holding you still and forcing his cock down your throat, repeating the action as Danny starts to unapologetically thrust into you. An advantage Danny had that Jake didn't, was that he knew every one of your spots. He knew what would have you falling apart in front of him.

Your eyebrows knit together as you look at your boyfriend, moaning against Jake's cock. "Eyes on Jake, baby," Danny growls, sending a sharp thrust against a sweet spot.

Your eyes clamp shut at the feeling, but when you look back at Jake, he's got a sick grin on his face "Hi princess." Jake pets your hair before his hand snakes down your abdomen, your body covering with goosebumps at the feeling of his rough fingertips dragging down your bare tummy. An embarrassingly loud moan escapes your mouth and vibrates against Jake's cock once Jake starts to toy with your clit.

"Danny, you never told me this sweet girl of yours is so damn filthy," Jake rasps, rubbing sweet circles over your clit. Your eyes clamp shut, you were already almost there. The repeated loss of every orgasm so far has reduced you to nothing but a whining, sensitive mess.

"Oh baby," Danny purrs, thrusting so deep into you as you squeeze and quiver around him. Deep groans rumble up from both Danny and Jake's chests, the feeling of Danny ramming into you mixed with the sweet feeling of Jake's fingers against your needy swollen clit brings tears to your eyes. Not to mention the way Jake's cock is nearly going down your throat.

Jake lets go of your head to wipe hot tears from your cheeks, almost instantly returning the hand to where it was and thrusting even further into your mouth. "So so good for us," Jake whispers, punctuating his words with thrusts into your mouth. Danny doesn't fail to hit every single spot inside of you, you wouldn't be surprised if he'd found a new one.

Moans rip through your chest and you writhe beneath both of them, serving as a warning that you're close. Your eyes clamp shut once again, you're unable to keep quiet against Jake's cock, moans falling from your lips like a waterfall. "Fuck Y/N," you hear Jake groan above you and you open your eyes, watching him as he sends one final thrust into your mouth before his warm release spurts into your mouth.

He keeps you there, forcing you to swallow down every last drop of his release. "So good, Y/N," Jake runs his hand through your damp hair as he pulls out of your mouth. "Oh fuck. Danny!" You cry, grasping onto Jake's wrist for support.

Danny grabs the back of your head, pulling you up by your neck and smashing his lips against yours before dropping you back on the bed. "Oh- I'm close Danny I'm gonna-" you interrupt yourself with a loud, squeaky moan as Jake continues to rub circles over your clit and Danny babies a sweet spot deep within you.

You go to speak, but all that comes out is a high pitched squeak. Your eyes clamp shut and your nails dig into the flesh of Jake's arm "oh fuck- oh my god." Your orgasm creeps up on you, your head going blurry and your body shaking.

For the third time straight, you're robbed of release. Jake moves his hand and Danny pulls himself from you, grasping his cock and stroking it. With one final tug, warm ropes of ivory paint your throbbing heat and tummy. Tears swell up on your waterline and you cover your hot face with your hands, so overwhelmed by everything.

They let you lay there for a moment, collecting yourself as they smooth their hands over your body and wipe away your tears, telling you how good you are.

"c'mon baby, it's Jake's turn," Danny sits on the bed beside you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Jake moves to be where Danny was, a sick look in his eyes as he looks down at your unfortunately soaked cunt.

Without warning, he flips you around, pushing your cheek into the warm sheets and eliciting a small giggle from you. His rough hands smooth over your ass, flexing his fingers into the meat before his thumb comes down to toy with your entrance.

"Fu- Jake please," you whine into the sheets, swiveling your hips for him. You're sure under normal circumstances he'd continue to tease you and make you suffer for longer, but he probably pities you.

With a low chuckle, Jake grabs the base of his cock and drags his tip through your arousal drenched folds. That alone elicits a whiney moan, so when he thrusts into you and stretches you out with one swift movement an incredibly loud moan rips through your chest.

"So fucking tight," Jake groans, pulling nearly all the way out of you before coming back down and hitting a sensitive spot. "Oh Jake!" You cry, pushing yourself back further onto his cock as Danny runs his hand along your back.

"Does it feel good baby? Does my cock feel good in your sweet little pussy?" Jake growls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, pulling you into him to go even deeper. You frantically nod your head, moans falling from your lips in strings until you can finally moan out a 'yes'.

Jake lays a slap against your ass, the sting eliciting a breathy moan. It's clear he loved whenever you would make the loudest noises, especially when he got you to moan his name. "So fucking filthy," Jake's arm snakes around your waist, pulling you up to be flush against his chest. "Letting us use you like our little fuck toy."

The hand not holding you against him finds your clit, rubbing tight circles to the swollen bud. "Oh fuck- oh my god," you whimper, writhing against Jake's body and struggling to keep your composure. "How good does he feel, love?" Danny tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, cupping your sweaty cheek and stroking it with his thumb.

"So fucking good. He feels so good," you moan, grasping onto Danny's wrist. You hear Jake snicker by your ear, sending a particularly rough thrust into you. "And here I thought you were all innocent," Jake punctuates his words with sharp thrusts, letting go of your waist and grabbing your hair in a ponytail, holding you against him by just your hair as you grasp onto Danny's shoulders

You look at Danny, your incredibly fucked-out expression causing him to snicker. His hands reach up to cup your face, taking you into a sweat kiss in contrast to the rough, unapologetic way Jake's fucking into you.

Jake's cock has completely robbed you of every one of your remaining thoughts, the only thing on your mind being how good he feels. You pull away from Danny's sweet lips, gasping for air as Jake steals the air from your lungs.

"Oh god-" you cry, letting go of Danny's shoulder to grasp Jake's wrist, the feeling of his fingers against your clit becoming almost too much. Danny reaches up to toy with your breasts, taking your nipple in his mouth and taking the bud between his teeth.

Jake's fingers speed up around his clit, his hips rolling into sweet spots and his tip brushing against your cervix. "St- too much," you cry, your orgasm creeping up on you and making itself present. Your hands pull on Danny's curly tresses of hair, your eyes shut so tight it would take a crowbar to pry them open.

You never thought of yourself as a screamer, that is until you feel your orgasm approach. Disgusting strings of profanities and moans erupt from your mouth, you make noises you didn't even know you could make. Jake slows down a bit, making sure he doesn't hurt you or overwhelm you more than you already are, if that was even possible.

"Holy fuck! Jake I'm gonna- I'm," you're unable to finish your sentence before your orgasm shakes your body, rushing through every limb and vein. It's something you're sure you've never felt before, nearly 10x more intense due to the repeated loss of release leading up to now.

Jake's hot release spurts inside you, painting your walls with ivory slick. As Jake lowers you back down to the bed, Danny takes your face in his hands, holding your forehead against his, helping you come back down to earth with a soothing touch.

You go to open your mouth and say something, but all that comes out is a squeaky breath. Danny's unable to hold back the small laugh at your current state, his thumbs caressing the warm surface of your cheeks.

You open your eyes, offering a weak smile to your boyfriend and pressing a kiss to his pretty red lips. "Ready?" You hear Jake behind you, his hands smoothing over the raw skin of your ass. "N- not yet," you breathlessly whisper, cuddling up into your boyfriend's warm body. "Just tell me when, sweetheart," Jake leans over, kissing the skin of your back.

After enough time passes, you give Jake the yes to pull out. Jake's hands dig into the meat of your ass, bearing himself as he starts to pull himself from you. You suck in a breathy moan, a mix of both yours and Jake's juices dripping down your thigh almost instantly after he pulls out.

Danny settles into the bedpost, helping you flip back around and letting you lay on him as Jake gets a cloth wet to clean you up. "You think people are worried?" You giggle, looking up at Danny and reaching for his cheek.

"Well, you were pretty loud," Danny huffs a laugh, his hand running through your hair "but it is a party. It's bound to happen." Your cheeks burn red in embarrassment, knowing people definitely heard just how loud you were being.

Jake comes back with the cloth, his pants loose around his hips and his chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat. "Poor girl," Jake settles in front of you, bringing the damp cloth to your thighs. "She looks so fucked-out," Jake chuckles, paying extra care to make sure not to bother you as he cleans you up.

"Thank you," you smile, taking the back of Jake's neck in your hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek before attempting to stand up.

"You ready to be interrogated?" Danny jests, helping you slip your lingerie and clothes back on your body. "Really funny," you roll your eyes, your cheeks still flushed red with embarrassment.

"Yeah you might be joking but you forget how nosy my brothers are," Jake drives his elbow into Danny's side as he buttons his shirt.

"Yeah well if I get asked one question I'm jumping out of the window," you move your damp hair away from your neck, tying it up with an old hair tie you had on your wrist.

"Thanks Jake, I had fun," you smirk, standing on weak legs and pulling him into a hug before grabbing your boyfriend's hand and leading him out, Jake following suit behind you.

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