#it doesn’t always have to be a bad thing
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coworker James being protective of reader like she’s just a sweet and kind thing and he’s FINALLY accepting his feelings and reader gets like happy that he cares?
“No, no, it’s okay. Yeah, don’t worry about me, I’m just gonna watch movies all weekend. I might make popcorn. Yeah! Don’t worry about it, just have fun, okay?”
You’re talking quietly but not without pep, hushed to avoid disturbing him. By the sounds of it, your plans for the weekend have bombed. You’re taking it remarkably well.
“Okie dokie. Well, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you. Bye.” You don’t lift your head where you’re laying against the desk, but you put your phone gently by your keyboard.
“That blows,” James says.
“Maybe.” You turn your face to see him, before you lift yourself up and return to the pack of biscuits you’ve opened. “Do you want some?” you ask, bringing a malted milk to your mouth.
“Please.”
You gesture for him to take one. In relative quiet, you and James sit there chewing, the sunlight from the open window on your hands.
“You’re not upset about your plans?” he asks.
“A bit, but… I don’t want her to feel bad for me. She should have a good time, she got last minute tickets to see a band and she loves them. We can just hang out next weekend.” You push the biscuits toward him. “I need to stop eating these all the time.”
You stand up and do a big stretch, arm arched over your head before you laugh and point at him. He’s never had someone look at him like this. “Pretend you didn’t see that,” you say, raising your eyebrows just a touch.
You’re being playful. James’ stomach flips. “I didn’t see a thing,” he says.
You drop your pointing. “Really?”
He covers his eyes.
Your following laughter is even richer.
“This office makes me tired. I’m going to make some coffee before lunch is over,” you say.
You walk away like nothing happened. James is left to ruminate.
He pushes a hand into the crop of his hair and ruffles it, stressed, though the scratch of his nails against his scalp relieves some tension. James is used to being annoyed at you, you were always so irked with him, but lately he struggles to find anger for you. He still loves to tease you and watch your eyes change; there’s no better moments than on the mornings he’s here first and he’s found a new hiding place for your mug, and you’re forced to ask him where it is he put it. Asked is kind, really. More aptly, you demand to know where it is, and promise professional retribution.
You could always drink from a different mug, but James has a feeling you like asking. This morning, you found it by yourself, and you put it smugly on your desk with steam rising from the surface. “You’re getting worse,”
you’d said, and that smugness suddenly felt friendly. Your smile was ten different shades of sweet.
You are… quite sweet. You’re kind. You don’t let much upset you that isn’t James, even when it should. And the James stuff is all superficial. When was the last time you guys argued over something that mattered?
Which isn’t to say he doesn’t love arguing with you. But he’s coming to appreciate another side of you, the side that comes back to your desk with a fresh coffee and little happy breath of air when you see he’s made his two figurines cuddle each other.
“They’re in love,” you say dreamily.
“You can be so lovely,” James says. It’s like something takes over his body.
You put your coffee down. “What?” you ask, smiling as though it’s a joke you don’t get.
He’s not sure he should say it again. “I don’t know. When you smile, you’re really pretty. Like, even more than usual.”
“Ha-ha.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“I don’t believe you.”
James takes one of your biscuits. “Then don’t, it doesn’t bother me.” He wishes he hadn’t said it, what a weird thing to say, but he can’t pretend he was kidding, it would be crueller than saying nothing. So he wedges a biscuit in his mouth and laughs when you call him gross, your facade one he doesn’t believe. You wrinkle your nose, but you’re happy underneath it.
Lovely, even.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description.
Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 13)
first chapter >> last chapter
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You could just tell him.
You consider it at least once a day, particularly in the mornings when John sits up on his side of the bed and hesitates briefly before rising to his feet and going downstairs to start breakfast. You can feel the way he wants to lean over and touch you, and the way he holds himself back. The way he pulls his hand back at the last second from where it hovers over your prone body.
He leaves you in bed with an ache in your stomach so deep that you swear it’ll swallow you whole. But you have no choice but to sigh and sit up as he shuffles around downstairs, the morning well on its way in. There’s nothing to do now but move forward.
The atmosphere in the house is tense. You walk on eggshells around each other, unsure of how to bridge the divide. The eggs jump in the pan and brown at the edges, and outside the feather reed sways in the breeze. You’re weary of each other and yet hardly capable of being apart.
Maybe that’s just on your end.
You’ve taken to watching him from afar in recent days. In the absence of his physical touch, which comes sparingly now, his hands always curled into fists like he’s holding himself back from reaching out and touching you, you’ve resorted to the only thing left to you: the visual realm. That’s what you glut yourself on now, and while it doesn’t fill the hole in you, it soothes the ache.
You watch him with the horses in the paddock, always confident and sure-footed with them. Suspenders straining against the muscle of his back and his shoulders, sweat running in rivulets down his back, the sun golden on his face. At dinner, he collapses into his chair, exhaustion written into every corner of his being, and you drag your eyes over the jut of his stomach, the layer of fat over his muscled core. Hairy forearms braced against the table while he eats (no manners, that one).
Any thought of bolting in the night now seems unwise. Your previous aspirations of freedom seem foolhardy in the light of day. You give it some consideration. Say you had succeeded in escaping—now where would you be? Alone wandering the mountains, parched and starving? Drinking from the ravine? Eating poisonous berries and hawthorn leaves in desperation to have something in your belly? Or hogtied in some bandit’s tent, enduring a fate worse than starvation or death?
You shudder to think of it.
In the days since John brought you home, you haven’t seen hide nor hair of Graves, nor anyone else in pursuit of a woman from back east. No bounty hunters, no officers of the law, no rogue agents. It’s as if they came, found nothing, and simply wandered on through.
You should’ve just waited them out. It’s clear now, what you should’ve done, but who can argue with the past? You’re sick of telling yourself that there might’ve been another way. It doesn’t change the way things are now.
There’s nothing to do now but move forward.
The routine is the same. You head into town every morning and try to say as few words to each other as possible. You glance at each other when the other isn’t looking. The glances grow longer with the days, the stubborn sun refusing to set until well into the evening hours, and your own eyes refusing to part from his form. When you catch him watching you in turn, his eyes are always heady, filled with something like longing.
Outside, the sky is cornflower blue; clouds bulge and drift away.
Life returns to some degree of normalcy, despite the sense of something unresolved hovering in the air. John’s deputies come over again for supper, and with them they bring better table manners this time. At least Soap doesn’t belch at the dinner table and Kyle leaves his hat at the door. Simon is taciturn as always, but that comes now as a comfort.
The men play cards in the living room until even the fireflies go to sleep, until the night is a thin paste spread over the world, the sharp edge of the knife scraping over the craggy limestone peaks and ridges and spreading it evenly. You go to bed alone, the bedroom door cracked open enough to see the flicker of lamplight against the wall, their shadows weaving in and out of it.
He must come to bed at some point because his side of the bed is warm when you wake up the next morning. You put your hand there to soak up his warmth until you can’t excuse lying in bed any longer. Breakfast is, again, quiet, but you feel the compulsion to break the silence bubbling up in your chest. You think if he stares at you even a moment longer, you’ll have no choice but to belt it out.
The brittle morning is interrupted by the arrival of one of John’s deputies. When Simon rips open the door and barges into the house, you nearly scream, watching with wide eyes as he charges towards the back, looking for John. You flit over to the window to watch him go. He finds John out back mucking the stalls in the stable and there’s a brief moment of intense conversation before you watch as John throws the pitchfork against the wall and hurriedly shuts the stables up, following Simon back towards the house.
It’s a flurry of motion after that, John throwing on his clothes haphazardly, not even bothering to properly button up his shirt. You unconsciously follow him up the stairs to the bedroom.
“John?” you ask, uncertainly.
He doesn’t answer you right away. The tension creeps up the length of your back the longer he goes without responding, his mouth set in a flat line.
“John?” you repeat, more force behind your words this time. “What’s wrong?”
“Passenger train up east is about to be robbed,” John finally grunts out in reply, checking his rifle to see if it’s loaded. “Simon got word.”
“How’d he know before it even happened?” you ask, stuck on conversation because you unconsciously want to delay the inevitable. Your heart pounds hard in your chest, images of gunfire and bloodbaths searing the backs of your eyelids.
“Informant. He’s got ‘em all over the county.”
Not once does he slow down or pause to take a breath. You follow him back downstairs and through the house, watching anxiously as he loads his gun and tightens the belt of bullets around his waist. He plucks his hat from where it sits hung up beside the door and then exits out of the house, you trailing along helplessly behind him. The porch creaks ominously under his feet as he makes his way down the stairs towards the horses, where Simon already has John’s other horse saddled up and ready to go.
“When will you—” You can’t finish it. It hangs uselessly in your mouth. He doesn’t answer you.
You follow him to the horses but stumble to a halt when he reaches them first, taking over from Simon and fixing the straps in place. Simon gives you a curt nod when your eyes meet before turning to his horse and heaving himself up onto it briskly, obviously in a rush to get going.
John turns to you when the straps are fixed in place and he has one foot in the stirrups, brows furrowed deep enough to accentuate all the lines in his forehead. He gestures warningly at you with a finger. “You stay here, you hear me?”
Your brows furrow, affronted at the command. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t fancy havin’ to chase after you for a second time, but I will if you try anything funny while I’m gone.”
“Well, you just see here now—”
“You heard me, darlin’—”
“Price,” Simon growls, cutting him off, and it takes you by surprise to see his usual phlegmatic disposition traded in for something choleric. He’s never been one to talk back or act insubordinately, more of a guard dog than a deputy sometimes. His mouth is set in a hard line though, betraying the tension coiled in his bones.
John nods and hauls himself up onto his horse.
“You be good while I’m gone,” John says, casting you one last parting glance.
You screw your lips into a scowl. “Don’t you dare die out there.”
That somehow gets a laugh out of him, as jagged as it is. It makes your stomach twist, the goodbye stagnant on your lips. You refuse to say it.
John’s horse whinnies when he pulls on the reins. He gives a sharp whistle, jolting it into motion, and you watch as he circles around and follows Simon down the path, their horses kicking up dust behind them.
You stand there until their horses disappear over the horizon. Then you linger a little longer.
It dawns on you that John hadn’t said goodbye either. That has to count for something.
Still, you dwell on it over the next hour, hardly able to keep your breakfast down. Any lingering frustration melts away into dread the longer you think about John confronting a train full of armed robbers, his deputies accompanying him or not. The shotguns loaded and strapped to their backs told you enough about what they expected to encounter. The thought makes you shudder.
You try to distract yourself with chores, but that hardly helps. All you can think about when scrubbing the floors is whether someone will have to do the same on the train. You know how hard it is to clean up blood.
Kate comes over later that morning while you’re still pinning the bed sheets and linens to the clothesline. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt elicits your attention first, and when you look down the dirt path leading into town, you see her riding towards you on horseback. A dapple grey gelding, bigger than Buttercup but leaner than the horse that John had chased you down on.
“Morning!” she shouts, still far enough away for it to be necessary. Your hand goes up slowly in a wave, half-shielding your eyes from the sun.
She comes up the path quickly, dismounting before her horse has even come to a standstill. It speaks to an element of comfort on a horse that you haven't acquired yet. Jealousy licks a hot tongue up your innards.
“Morning,” you greet tentatively. “Not that I don’t appreciate spending time with you, but don’t you have a store to run?”
Kate shrugs her shoulders, sauntering up the walkway. “Folks chip in when they have to—I’ve got plenty of people in town willing to watch the shop for me. Besides, what’s the point of owning a business if you can’t take a day off every now and then?”
You frown, looking at Kate a bit suspiciously. “Did he tell you to come babysit me?”
You don’t specify who, but it’s obvious enough.
Her lips flatten. “I offered.”
All that does is stoke the flames of your ire. “They seemed in a hurry to leave. Didn’t think John would have time to stop by and ask you to watch his wayward wife.”
“John didn’t do anything. Simon mentioned that he was coming here to get your man.”
“My man,” you mumble a bit sardonically. Still, her words make you let go of some of your anger. “So he didn’t ask you to come?”
Kate shakes her head, lips finally curling up into a half-grin. “No, ma’am. Thought I’d just get Miles to mind the shop and come give you some company.”
Your frown keeps getting deeper. “Don’t ma’am me, Kate. And I don’t need your company if you’ve just come to make fun of me.”
“Hand to heart—I came only to make sure you were alright.” Her smile grows directly inverse to your frown. “Give me a minute to put the horses in the paddock and I’ll be right back.”
You could almost kiss her for that though. You’d been dreading the thought of having to bring Buttercup out into the paddock on your own, but the thought of leaving her in the stables all day had also felt immeasurably cruel. Since getting lost with her in the mountains, you haven’t felt confident enough to be around her on your own. At least Kate’s presence takes some of that stress away.
Not all of it though. Stress eats away at you as the day goes on. You can’t seem to go long without returning to the thought of John being shot or stabbed by one of the bandits on the train. Your mind keeps turning to the image of him lying lifeless on the floor, blood seeping out of a wound in his chest, eyes glazed over and far away.
You chew on your nails until they tear. Kate smacks your hands when she notices.
It’s well past dark by the time John comes home. You notice his arrival first as a flicker of light when you happen to glance out the window. You’d long ago pulled up a chair to settle down beside the window and wait, Kate in a chair on the other side of the room near the oil lamp, flicking through her book, and with the waiting had come a knot in your chest tighter than a fist. A cancerous lump metastasising in your belly, spreading out into every corner of you.
And then someone riding up the path towards the house holds up a lamp that swings with the rhythm of their approach. Your heart all but stops in your chest, fingers halting in the middle of knitting. It beats a furious frenzy now, alert again, alive in your chest. The needles clatter to the floor when you rise to your feet, dashing over to the door to swing it wide open.
“I suppose he’s—” Kate says, but you don’t hear the rest, already gathering up your skirt to hustle down the porch steps and meet him halfway, heart lodged in your throat.
When he notices you hurrying out the door and down the path towards him, John brings his horse to a standstill.
Shadows engulf his form until you get close enough for the lamplight to slash across John’s face, illuminating the deep, sunken troughs under his eyes. He looks exhausted. The top button of his shirt is missing, perhaps ripped out in whatever altercation he’d gone to stop. Your eyes flit over him, looking for any sign of blood or injury, and you find it along the grooves of his knuckles, the skin there torn and bloodied. He hadn’t even bothered to wrap his hands in gauze before coming home.
John smiles down at you. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
That’s almost enough to make you sway on your feet, lightheaded. You hadn’t realized the toll his sudden absence had taken on you, or the worry that’d been festering in your belly, but as it drains out of you, it almost brings you to your knees.
“Are you well?” you ask, throat tight.
He doesn’t answer you. Instead, he shifts his weight and swings his leg over his horse to dismount, eyes on you the whole time. You can hardly pull your eyes off him, not even for a second. His horse, well-trained enough to not wander off without its rider astride it, huffs out a breath but otherwise remains in place while John walks towards you.
Your heart jumps in your chest when he lifts a hand to cup your cheek and drops a firm kiss to the center of your forehead, the heat of his kiss suffusing through you. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck lift. Your arms erupt in gooseflesh.
“Never better,” he says when he pulls back. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your forehead when he speaks. It makes everything from your collarbone up go hot.
You hear the door open again. “Hi John,” Kate calls from the door.
“Hi Laswell,” John calls back to her, but his eyes never leave yours.
A heavy silence pregnant with meaning passes. You’re not sure what to read into it, but reading’s never been your strong suit.
“I’ll see myself out then,” Kate says. “Leave you two lovebirds to it.” Her words make you bristle, but even that isn’t enough to pull your eyes off your husband.
“Don’t look so put out—Soap’s just down the path waiting to take you home,” John scoffs. Sure enough, when you peek around him, you notice the slight flicker of light that burns at about the height of a man sitting astride a horse.
Kate rolls her eyes. “So chivalry’s not dead. Thank the Lord for small mercies.”
You don’t hear her go around the side of the house, but she must because she comes back a few minutes later with her horse, lead in hand. Her goodbye goes unnoticed by you or John, barely audible over the sound of the crickets in the bushes. You come back to yourself only when her horse takes off down the path towards Soap, and by then your voice is too faint, the words evaporating off your tongue.
The moment finally bursts when John shifts his weight and winces. You frown. “You’re hurt.”
He huffs. “Just a sore rib. Nothing worth fussin’ over.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Your eyes flick down to his bloodied knuckles. “Your hands need tending to anyway. We should get inside.”
John nods. “I’ll put Chiron away and then come in.”
“Chiron?”
“This boy here.” His horse chuffs when John pats his neck lightly, smoothing a hand down the length. It slots into your mind—another piece of this place assimilated into your being. Another name you’ll never be able to shake.
You hurry back inside while he takes Chiron around the side of the house towards the stables, the lamp still swinging from his hand. It’s how you track him from the window. It’s too late now for them, but you remember staring off into the distance earlier, watching the fireflies flicker in and out of view, gold will-o-wisps hovering over the fields. Now it’s quiet, and nothing outside moves. Even the moon hides behind dark clouds.
You wait by the window until you see John come out of the stables, headed back towards the house. Only then do you exhale.
He sits at a chair in the living room and spreads his legs, forcing you to step between them to get close enough to treat him. You bandage his torn knuckles under the light of the oil lamp in the corner of the room. John doesn’t so much as flinch when you clean them, gently inspecting the wounds to remove any debris that might’ve gotten in. He’s a good patient; hardly makes a sound as you wrap the gauze around his knuckles.
“Do you want me to call the doctor in the morning?” you ask, then start a bit at the sound of your own voice, inexplicably loud in the relative silence of the room.
John shakes his head. “Don’t bother. Wasn’t anything too serious.”
You frown. “Are you sure? I don’t want to risk it getting infected—”
He turns his hands over in your loose hold, curling his fingers around yours. You blink at the stark contrast between his and your hands. His fingers are thicker than yours, swollen at the joints, and the skin of his palms is calloused, rough to the touch. You’ve felt them over every part of you—loose at your waist, gripping the nape of your neck, prying your thighs apart. Holding your hand. Sunk deep into your quim.
You can recall the feel of his touch from memory now.
“It’s not that bad, darlin’,” he rasps, dragging his thumb back and forth over your fingers. “Y’did a good job fixin’ me up. You’re a good little nurse.”
“I’m no substitute for proper medical care,” you snip, still frowning.
“Ah, if I die, I die.”
“That’s not funny,” you snap, abruptly incensed, and the joking twist of his lips unfurls at that, the creases around his eyes smoothing out. He looks at you like there’s something new writ large on your face.
There’s a tremble in your lower lip and a tremor in your hands that you hadn’t noticed until now. Once you notice it, it’s impossible to shake; your lip wobbles when you have to pinch back your tears. A stubborn one nearly leaks out until you sniff and blink it away.
“Now where’s this all coming from?” John asks, voice pitched low and intimate, just for the two of you.
His voice laps over your bones like bourbon on the rocks, glistening amber in the setting sun. Except it’s dark now and there’s not a drink in the world that could dilute the emotions welling up in you. You’d be a blubbery drunk anyway; you’ve always been something of a sad sack.
“I thought you might come back hurt,” you whisper. “And you did.”
His thumb strokes over your unblemished knuckles and he lifts your hands to his mouth to kiss the very same spot he just brushed. “I’m sorry to make you worry, darlin’. I meant nothing by my words. We’ll go to the doctor tomorrow.”
The bur of his beard tickles the back of your hand. His acquiescence brings some of your candor back. “Well, only if you want to.”
“Don’t get smart with me, wife—”
He stops short when you giggle, his eyes widening infinitesimally. You wonder if it’s the first time he’s ever heard you laugh. It’s not something you can help though. The joy spills up from you unbidden.
John sighs. “We’ve been making a right mess of things, haven’t we?”
You go to say something, but all that comes out is a soft hum of agreement.
It’s in front of you again. An opportunity to tell him everything, to make things right. To land in the soft sediment of truth and come out unscathed and better for it. All you need do is open your mouth and say it; say that there was a man back east that tried something untoward and you did what you had to in order to protect yourself. You think on some level John would understand that.
Again you open your mouth. Again nothing comes out.
There’s love and then there’s thinness, words preserved in amber. He takes your whole world in his hands and you want to say, is it safe here? Can I call this a home?
There's love and then there's a heaving mass of recollection. It is an ancient thought: to love and be loved in verity, in one's own sphere of understanding. You don’t yet know if that’s possible for you, but you’re starting to think that maybe here is something close to that. Something gentle like wildflowers springing up from beside train tracks, the sprawling emptiness of the plains on either side.
Still, it is not enough to make you tell the truth. Maybe now the consequences are different. You think less of a jail cell and more of being deprived of this man that holds your hands tenderly and looks up at you with such clear affection.
If love has a way of speaking, it is marbles in the mouth; it masticates its own words. It chokes them back out of fear, out of longing to keep things right.
So instead, you ask, “Can we just put it behind us and move on?”
John lifts a hand and slides it around the back of your neck, drawing you in for a kiss that makes your heart melt in your chest, caramel-rich. You moan into his mouth when his tongue traces over your lips, hands dropping to sink into the lapels of his shirt, pulling him closer to you.
When he pulls back, the folds around his eyes are crinkled, lips pulled up into a fond smile. “Already forgotten.”
You exhale. This is reconciliation. It comes home limping and bruised, but it comes home to you.
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#price x reader#john price x reader#price/reader#john price/reader#captain john price
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cw cnc
“Run your mouth again and see what happens.” His cold eyes cut into the bratty girl. She always had a bad habit of saying the wrong thing. Her drinking just made it worse. The girl had already pissed off everyone else at the bar, and the intimidating man sitting in the corner was her last stop.
A chill runs down her spine. She was used to getting an emotional reaction to her behaviour. She craves it. The man’s calm statement of fact was unnerving. The girl avoids him, choosing to shit talk a nearby woman. A brief scuffle, and the hotheaded girl lets loose a string of expletives as she’s escorted out of the bar to a round of applause.
Drunkenly stumbling home alone, she desperately tries to avoid her own thoughts. Wandering through a city park, the girl doesn’t hear the man until he’s right behind her.
“Hey, I want to talk to you.” The man grabs her arm. She twists and tries to pull herself away. “Let me go!” His grip bites into her bicep. “What’s the matter, I though you loved to talk?” The man starts to walk her off the path into the bushes. “Fuck you! Stop! Get your hands off me!”
She panics and tries to run. Snatching her in a headlock, he squeezes her disrespectful words out of her. The girl whimpers profanities as he drags her into the night. Shoving her into the grass, she tries to crawl away. Blind drunk in the darkness, she cries as he pins her to the dirt.
“Stop!” Her thong is pulled down to her socks. “No!” Her shirt is ripped open. “Please…” Her fighting spirit turns to pathetic whining as he undoes his pants. He responds with that same cold expression. “Stupid bitch.” The man spits on his hand, rubbing his saliva on the head of his cock.
“no no no NO! NO! NO! MMPH~!” His wet hand clamps down on her spiteful mouth. At the same time, he forces his cock into the girl. She kicks her heels against his back and pushes against his chest. The man’s hands grip her neck, keeping her from screaming by restricting her breathing.
He drives his cock deep into her pussy, hatefucking her. The girl squirms, embarrassed by her wetness allowing him to force himself onto her with such ease. Gasping for air, she begs for mercy. “Please stop, please stop.” He grins at her. “Look who’s learning her manners.”
His icy words send another shiver through her body. The girl is horrified as the feeling becomes a warm tingle. “Oh, god, no…” The vibration keeps building each time his cock pumps into her. “Not now, not like this…” That shiver spirals from her filled pussy up to the tips of her fingers. Her body bucks not in resistance, but in acceptance. The girl cums from the man forcing himself on her.
She stares at the night sky, unable to process what happened. Silent now, he pins her wrists to the grass even through she doesn’t fight back. The man enjoys the broken girl. Fucking her like a doll, unmindful of her welfare, he goes faster and harder as he gets closer to his orgasm.
“I’m sorry…” She chokes through her tear-stained face. “For what, cunt?” The girl avoids his sharp gaze. “I’m sorry…” A few more tears run down her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being rude, sir.” His cock keeps rutting deep into her bruised pussy. “There you go, good girl.” He starts to cum inside of her. The girl watches the thick white substance coat his dick with each thrust into her. “…sorry for being a dumb bitch…”
The man sits next to her, smoking a cigarette. He fondles her exposed chest, occasionally glancing at her bare pussy dripping his cum onto the grass. The girl uses her torn skirt to wipe the dirt off her fingers. She begins to rub her clit as he pinches her nipples.
“Thank you…” The girl mumbles, facing away from him. “For what, cunt?” The man responds, voice dripping with contempt. “Thank you for teaching me a lesson…” He smiles and puts out his cigarette. “…may I have another?” Strong hands grip her waist and roll her onto her front. “Maybe you have learned some manners.” She keeps rubbing her clit as he wets his cock with her used pussy. He gropes her bum and pushes his cock into her ass with the same hateful force. The girl doesn’t whine. Docile and submissive, she’s learned her lesson.
#kxsalt short#kxsalt cnc#kxsalt abuse#kxsalt degrade#intox cnc#bd/sm kink#bd/sm community#bd/sm daddy#bd/sm blog#cnc k!nk#bd/sm brat#rough cnc#cnc free use#submisive and breedable#fr33use#corruption kink#r4p3b4it#degredation kink#attention wh0r3#degrading k1nk#cnc brat#dumb slvt#cnc fr33use#abuse k1nk#r4p3 m3#cnc rough#degrade and humiliate me#r4pepl4y#intox kink#bd/sm corruption
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the final [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]
synopsis: y/n and harry reach the final in the academy slam
word count: 12.2k
contains: fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, tennis rivals, smut (oral f-receiving, first time for h and yn, size kink, mostly just soft), travel anxiety, brief medical talk
a/n: extremely sorry for the wait but i hope this is worth it. thank you for being here and reading this little series. it means the world and I'm obsessed with all of u <33
this is the final part of the game, read part 3 here
. . .
In any relationship, Y/N had always believed she was the dominant, reliable, independent partner. In all of her friendships, family dynamics and even teamwork, the people around her looked to her for something that sometimes she couldn’t even give. Y/N was constantly pulling pieces of herself apart to give to those around her and at the end of the day she found herself with nothing left for herself. She was constantly burnt out, running on little energy to make it through to the end of the week.
But with Harry, her whole world felt like a sanctuary, a blue sky hidden from everybody else by grey clouds.
When she thought she knew all there was to know about herself, she was learning so much more through her relationship.
She learnt that it was important to share things, that just because Harry could read her face better than most people doesn’t mean he could read her mind. She hadn’t realised how closed off she was about her problems until Harry had found her panicking outside her classroom before an exam. It was that moment when he told her he needed her to communicate these things so he could help her in any way he could.
She learnt to accept that her love language was physical touch. She couldn’t keep her hands off of her boyfriend. No matter what they were doing or where they were standing, she was desperate to touch Harry in some way and he was obsessed with it. He loved how much she wanted him to hold her and how often she’d gravitate towards him to put her hand on his arm or hook their pinkies together. It was probably the reason why her lips were constantly chapped because she was always desperate to kiss him whenever they were near each other. Harry had told her once that our love languages developed from what we didn’t receive so much of as children, which made sense because Y/N couldn’t remember the first or last time her parents had held her.
She learned that arguments were healthy, even when they didn't feel like it in the moment. Just because Harry was her boyfriend and their feelings for each other were strong, they still ended up bickering over little things. It usually happened when one of them was having a bad day; they were both people who felt things very strongly, and sometimes that clashed. But they made a promise that, no matter what they were arguing about, big or small, they'd never go to bed angry with each other.
The biggest lesson Y/N was learning was something that she had yet to come to terms with.
Having feelings for somebody was already a new thing for her, especially feelings as strong as the ones she had for Harry. She’d never been so attached to somebody in her whole life. Sometimes when she looked at him she felt like her heart was going to explode from how much it ached to be right by him. Y/N had always believed that she couldn’t feel much more than what she felt already, that this was how good it would get- and she was okay with that. But with every passing day, Y/N found herself floating higher and higher above ground as her heart began to inflate with such an intense emotion. Every morning, she felt like she was levitating right out of bed at the thought of seeing Harry.
It wasn’t until one particular day that she realised she was in love with her boyfriend.
She had woken up before him for once. Harry had always been an early bird, and so was she before him, but she loved staying in bed with him, basking in his warmth as he cradled her to him like he was cocooning her from the rest of the world and keeping her to himself for those brief few hours in the early morning.
She was going to wake him up to get ready for school but she stopped herself. Y/N had seen many versions of Harry her entire life but this was the first time when she looked at him and saw the person who had carved a nook into her heart for himself looking so peaceful and relaxed. She’d never really thought too hard into it before, willing to let herself fall into this relationship and see where she ended up, but that morning when she looked at him - really looked at him- she realised there was only one person in this entire world who could make her feel like she was still dreaming and that was the person she loved.
Of course, she hadn’t told him that. Never. Y/N felt genuine fear at the thought of having to tell him how she felt because everything she had ever truly loved she’d had to either work for or it had never loved her back as much. Surely loving someone as much as she loved Harry couldn’t be this easy.
“Hey,” Sarah beamed, leaning against the lockers as Y/N replaced her books for her next classes.
“Hey,” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she glanced at her shirt, “What are you wearing?”
“Do you like them?” Sarah grinned, proudly.
It was a white t-shirt with a tennis racket and a cut out of Y/N’s head plastered onto a tennis ball. The words ‘Y/N 4 court queen’ were written in red.
“Please tell me you only got one of these?” Y/N begged, feeling embarrassed.
“Well they’re prototypes so there’s only four,” Sarah explained and as she did Mitch walked towards them wearing the exact same shirt.
He put a hand around Sarah’s shoulders and kissed the side of her head before looking at Y/N, “How do you like the shirts? Me and Sarah spent all week designing them?”
“You designed these together? Aren’t you meant to be like horny teenagers or something?” Y/N tried not to laugh at their matching shirts as they stood side by side.
“We can be both,” Mitch shrugs.
“Who else is wearing these?” A throat cleared from behind them and Y/N turned around to find her boyfriend wearing his white school shirt unbuttoned to reveal the same t-shirt underneath.
“Hi baby,” Harry grinned, walking towards her and kissing her lips. Y/N’s hands went to his waist as he pushed her up against the lockers.
“And I thought we were bad,” Mitch said, “C’mon babe, I’ve got a few ideas for some more items we could sell.”
Harry pulled away as Mitch and Sarah walked away. Y/N looked up at him as he loomed over her, he was just so goddamn tall. “Missed you,” He murmured, kissing her quickly.
“You saw me this morning,” Y/N giggled.
“Hmmm,” He hooked his finger around her necklace and pulled her closer, “Do y’ like my shirt?”
Y/N laughed, “I can’t believe you actually wore it.”
“Anything to support my girlfriend,” He winks. She’d never get tired of hearing him call her that. “Did you hear anything about the Academy?”
Y/N shook her head. After winning against Astrid, she was now onto the final where she would play Courtney Avalon the only girl in the competition who had been picked to compete in a Junior Slam at fourteen. Y/N wondered who thought it fair for her to compete but she wouldn’t let it ruin her chances of winning, she’d just train even harder than she already was.
Unlike the previous games, the final wouldn’t be hosted at one of the academies instead it would be hosted elsewhere at a tennis club where professionals would play. There was no way of knowing where they’d be going, it could be in a different country for all they knew, but the final was a little under a month away and she still hadn’t heard anything about it.
“S okay,” Harry knew she was overthinking the situation as he traced his thumb over her pulse the way he always did when she was nervous about something, “We just train the way we always have,”
“Do you think I’ll win?” Y/N asked.
“I know you will,” Harry replied.
That same afternoon, Y/N was sitting in the library after school to finish her English essay on her computer when a notification appeared in her email. Her heartbeat hastened as she clicked on the email with ‘Academy Slam Final Location’ written in big bold letters as the subject headline.
She clicked on it and her eyes flicked through the long-winded introduction before they landed on the location.
Paris, France.
She was going to Paris.
With Harry.
She tried to keep her excitement at bay as she threw all her belongings into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She made a quick exit out of the library and ran towards the parking lot where she knew Harry would be.
Her eyes landed on him and she couldn’t help but laugh before running over to him and leaping into his open arms. “Paris,” She said and his eyes lit up.
“We’re going to Paris?” Harry asked, seeking confirmation.
Y/N nodded, “The same place they play the French Open.”
Realisation dawned on both of their faces as they understood the significance of this moment. Y/N would be playing at the same club where Harry was supposed to play before his injury. She waited to see his reaction, and a small grin formed on his face before he leaned in to kiss her.
“You are going to win this,” He says like a promise.
She nods, the weight of the moment sinking in deeper. The pressure now felt even greater than before, driven by a desire to win not just for herself, but for Harry too.
. . .
Y/N sat on the bonnet of her boyfriend’s Audi with her boyfriend standing between her dangling legs as they made out, “Are you actually going to teach me anything?” Y/N laughed, pushing him away.
Harry pretended to check the invisible watch on his wrist before shrugging, “We have time,” He leaned in to kiss her again but she playfully pushed his face away and slid off the bonnet.
They walked hand in hand to the court where Y/N put her bag down on the ground and pulled out her racket. Her eyes caught sight of Harry taking a bucket of tennis balls out of the storage shed. He looked particularly cosy today in his navy sweater and white shorts he was wearing, his hair was a little dishevelled mainly due to the fact that she had run her fingers through them for the past thirty minutes.
“Okay, so should we do a few drills?” Harry posed the question.
Y/N shook her head, “I wanna try something different today,” Harry frowned as she passed him a racket, “I want to play against you.”
She could tell Harry seemed unsettled as soon as the words left her mouth, “Y/N, you already know about my injury,”
“Just a little back and forth, if it hurts too much we can stop straight away,” She tried, hoping he would say yes.
Harry took one look at his girlfriend, seeing the pleading look on her face. Even though he knew she wasn’t forcing him, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no. “Fine, one game.”
Y/N squealed and ran to the end of the court she always played on, getting into position. She watched as Harry rolled his ankles and bounced up and down to get used to the feeling of his feet on the court. He took a tennis ball out of his pocket and bounced it on the ground.
With a playful chuckle, Harry tossed the ball into the air and served. Y/N lunged for it, returning it with a swift swing of her racket. The rally began, and each shot was met with cheers and laughter from them both.
Despite Harry's injury, he moved across the court with surprising agility, his competitive spirit shining through. Y/N knew he was at a disadvantage but still, she was in awe of how quickly he responded to her hits. Every time Harry would run for the ball, she’d find herself distracted by the muscles in his calves and thighs and the concentration on his face when the ball would go to her end of the court.
In the end, Y/N came out on top with one score above Harry’s when they decided on the last round as Harry could tell the pain was beginning to stir in his leg. She walked over to him and put out his hand to shake his, “Great game,”
Harry rolled his eyes, taking her hand and pulling her into him, “You’re too pretty, you distracted me.”
“I’ve heard that one too many times before,” Y/N smirked.
“From who?” Harry frowned.
“Oh just people,” She began to walk away but Harry quickly ran up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her around.
“Harry,” Y/N laughed, loudly, both of them ignoring the watchful eyes of passing students leaving school late.
He placed her back down on the ground and she looked up at him again, biting her lip, “Get back to those drills,” He shook his head.
“Yes sir,” She saluted but Harry stilled.
“I didn’t know you were into that,”
“What?” Y/N frowned before realising, “Ew don’t be so gross Harry,” She hit him on the arm and stormed away.
“What else am I supposed to think?” Harry threw his arms up in the air, biting back a laugh. She turned around and threw a tennis ball at him before grabbing another one and doing the same again, “Oh c’mon baby, I can live out your coach/student fantasies if that’s what you're asking,”
“You’re an animal!” She hissed.
Harry laughed and jogged towards her, kissing her quickly and running through their usual training.
. . .
Two weeks had passed until Y/N and Harry were finally on their way to Paris. Mitch and Sarah had dropped them off at the airport in the early hours of the morning with sleep still in their eyes. Y/N would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t nervous about playing without her best friend cheering for her in the stands. But Sarah promised she would watch every second of the live stream from their dorm room and cheer her on from there.
She’d also tried to call and text her parents to tell them she had made it to the final and she’d be going to Paris, inviting them to come along even though she already knew they would decide not to. She hadn’t spoken to them since the dinner and even though she was the happiest she’d ever been, part of her ached, wishing her parents cared enough to see her that way.
Harry stood beside her as they waited in line to board the aeroplane. They had originally booked economy flights but Harry was insistent they upgrade even though the flight was only an hour long.
They were both dressed rather comfortably for the flight. It was Y/N’s first time wearing a piece of his clothing, a brown knitted sweatshirt he offered her to wear this morning. She couldn’t deny the rush of excitement she felt when he tugged it over her head and kissed her forehead, “Pretty,” He said and smiled.
But despite their comfy attire, Y/N couldn’t seem to stop fiddling with Harry’s fingers as they stood in line. She was nervous, biting the inside of her cheek and trying to ignore the sounds of the planes taking off outside. It was her first time flying and even though she was excited about going away to Paris, she hadn’t considered the prospect of flying and how nerve-wracking it would be.
“Harry,” Y/N tugged on his sleeve, looking up at him. He was holding both of their carry-ons, his black bag in his hand and her duffle on his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, sensing her nerves.
“Will we be okay?” She blushes, feeling embarrassed at her question, “On the plane I mean?”
Harry’s eyes soften, “Of course,” He assures, “It’s the safest way to travel.”
“Okay,” She nods, before saying his name again, “Harry?”
“Yes baby?”
“You promise we’ll be okay?”
He smiles, putting their bags on the floor and taking both of her hands in his. He squeezes her fingers when he feels how cold they are, “Promise, promise.”
“Okay well if you’re lying I’ll probably never speak to you again.”
Harry chuckles, “I mean if I’m lying and the plan crashes then that’s probably true.”
Y/N frowns, “Don’t talk about crashing,”
“What? You bought it up.”
When they finally board the plane, Y/N immediately feels claustrophobic when she realises how small it is, “They’re loading us into a sardine can,” She mutters to herself and hears Harry laugh as he walks in front of her.
They finally reach their seats with Y/N right by the window and Harry in the seat next to her. Harry places their bags under the seats in front and moves to buckle his belt. “Harry?” Y/N says his name again. He glances at her and sees how pale her face is, “I’m really nervous.”
He felt his heart clench, it wasn’t often that Y/N admitted to feeling nervous or afraid of something. Hearing the shake in her voice made him consider getting off the plane and taking her back home again.
“Hey,” Harry cupped the side of her cheek, “Y’ got nothing to be afraid of sweet girl, everything’s gonna be fine. Might feel a little strange when the plane takes off but we’re safe and I’m right here with you.”
“I don’t know about this Harry,” Her eyes dart around and he knows she’s getting into a panic the more she thinks about it too much.
“Y/N,” Harry says her name gently, “Look at me baby,” His thumb rubs the skin under her eye and her eyes dart to him, “Can you feel this?” He gently wraps his fingers around her wrist and moves her hand to wrap around his own wrist until the pads of her fingers find his pulse.
Y/N nods, her eyes glistening, “Can you feel that?” He hopes the feel of his pulse will calm her down, “That’s it, just breathe and calm down everything’s gonna be fine.”
“It’s going to be fine,” She echoes his words as though trying to inscribe them into her own mind.
“M right here,” He comforts her, “You think I’d let anything happen to you after I just got you?”
Y/N smiles at that, “No,” She whispers, “You’re too stubborn.”
Harry grins, “Only when it comes to you.”
Y/N’s nerves were overwhelming as the plane began to move. She glanced out the window, watching the ground blur as they gained speed. Harry noticed her unease and reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
“What the fuck!” Y/N blurted when the plane lifted off the ground, loud enough for everyone to hear, “This is so not normal.”
Harry snorted a laugh, “Y’ doing just fine baby,” He rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand.
Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut as the plane tilted, a whimper escaping past her lips when she took one peek out the window to see the clouds in the sky. “Isn’t it pretty?” Harry asked, ignoring how tightly she was squeezing his fingers until the point of turning blue.
“It’s a lot prettier with my feet on the ground,” Y/N responds, refusing to relax until the plane landed.
. . .
Y/N was in awe as they stood in the hotel lobby of the hotel they would be staying in for the next week or so. Harry had insisted he be in charge of choosing where they were staying as he had been to Paris plenty of times and knew all the best spots. Y/N didn’t argue with him, it gave her one less thing to stress about and she was never any good at making decisions anyway.
The receptionist handed him two key cards and Harry rolled both of their suitcases into the elevator as Y/N followed closely behind. “Are our rooms next to each other?” Y/N wondered, admiring the lights in the elevator as they went up to the seventh floor.
Harry’s eyes widened for a second but then they twinkled with mischief. She noticed him biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying not to laugh. “Is that what you want two rooms?” He asked and Y/N’s cheeks flushed.
“W-well I d-didn’t want to assume,” She stuttered, feeling embarrassed.
Harry handed her both room keys, “Room 764,” He motioned her out of the elevator when it reached their floor and she walked ahead, scanning the numbers on the doors as she did.
Eventually, she got to room 764 and stopped. Harry was still rounding the corner with both of their suitcases so she waved the key over the scanner and saw the light turn green but instead of opening the door, she waited for it to lock again. Switching to the other key, she repeated the action of waving it over the lock only to see it flash green again.
This time she did walk through the door, putting both their bags on the ground as soon as she stepped inside. Her mouth fell open when she saw the room they’d be staying in.
Y/N had stayed in fancy hotels before thanks to her parents but this was something she had never seen before in her life. It had a high ceiling and a chandelier hanging in the middle. White curtains hung from the windows with a view of Paris right outside their window. She walked into the bathroom to see marble countertops and a deep bathtub with a separate glass-enclosed shower.
After taking everything in, she walked back into the bedroom where her eyes landed on the king-sized bed - one bed for two people.
The sight of it made Y/N’s mouth dry. It was her first time sharing a space with any boy, let alone her boyfriend, for longer than one night. Although she’d been spending a lot of time together, this was the first time Y/N would be sleeping beside him, waking up next to him, and getting ready with him. In fact, this whole trip they were all each other had.
“Do you like it?” Harry came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.
Y/N spun round and clung to him, “Thank you,” She whispered, hoping he couldn’t feel the nerves radiating from her.
“I was thinking we go out and get something to eat and then maybe walk by the river. We’ll be training for the next few days so,” She sighed, longing to just stay in the room with him holding her the entire time.
“I’d like that,” She sighs, eyes closing.
Harry chuckles lowly, she feels the vibrations from his chest, “Y sure?”
“Mhm,”
Harry smiles even though she can’t see, “Or we can order room service and stay here?”
Y/N seems to melt against him as he rubs circles on her back, “I like that idea a lot more.”
She was pretty sure Harry had ordered everything off the menu in the time it took her to unpack her suitcase. She smiled to herself when she saw their shoes side by side at the door when she went to put her trainers beside them.
It wasn’t long before hours passed and Y/N was wrapped up in a plush, white bathrobe with Harry’s shirt and her pyjama shirt on underneath. A cart with empty plates of what once was full of an array of desserts and sides was cast off to one side as Y/N lay on top of Harry with a full belly. The TV played lowly in the back, Harry's hands playing with the ends of her long, loose hair. The sky had turned dark with the lights of Paris lighting the city.
“Y’ sleepy baby?” Harry murmured, cupping her cheek and lifting her head like she was a little kitten so he could see her face.
Y/N hummed, nuzzling her cheek against his hand and curling into his side. Her hand slid up his torso to fiddle with the cross necklace around her neck. “Go to sleep,” He kisses the top of her head, “Got a long day tomorrow.”
Tomorrow they’d be off to the tennis club to train for the final at the end of the week. Harry had picked a hotel that was a ten-minute drive away just in case they ended up spending long hours into the night working on Y/N’s technique like they did when they were at Crestwood.
Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut as Harry rubbed soothing circles on her hip to try and lull her to sleep. The outside world seemed irrelevant in that moment, he felt as though he could lay there forever in this comforting bubble they had created together.
“Goodnight Harry,” Y/N mumbled, clutching his t-shirt.
“Goodnight baby,” He whispered, feeling the happiest he had ever been.
. . .
“Somebody pinch me, I feel like I’m dreaming,” Y/N gaped as they walked through the tennis club. She felt Harry pinch the skin above her elbow, “Not literally,” She huffed.
After a blissful night's sleep, Y/N awoke to her face buried in the crook of Harry’s neck as both of his arms held her tightly to him throughout the night. Sleep had always been Y/N’s worst enemy but she genuinely considered calling off today and just laying there with him.
They booked a cab before getting ready which would take them to the tennis club. They had planned a morning session of training so they could spend the remainder of the afternoon exploring Paris properly this time instead of looking out the window of the back of a taxi or from their hotel room where they had spent yesterday afternoon lounging around.
Harry smirked, “You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” He leads her to a big glass window in the lobby.
Y/N immediately gasps, pressing her nose against the glass wanting it to disappear so she could walk straight through it and across to the Roland Garros which just so happened to be right next door.
“I’m going to be there one day Harry,” Y/N says with the upmost determination in her voice.
Harry nods in agreement, “You will,” He says and that makes her believe it even more.
They walk hand in hand to the courts, Y/N in a white tennis dress and matching visor and Harry wearing a white polo shirt and white shorts. They were both wearing black sunglasses to cover their eyes, Harry snaked his arm around her shoulders, Y/N’s fingers automatically threading through his, as they walked outside.
They seemed to pause at the same time when they saw one of the courts already occupied. The sound of the ball speeding through the air and hitting the racket of the girl running to hit it in time broke through the air.
Y/N watched as the girl moved with such agility and force, meeting every hit made by her coach with her own. It was like nothing she had ever seen before, no one she had ever played against.
With one final hit across, the ball landed somewhere past her opponent and the game ended. The girl grabbed a towel and wiped it across her forehead, smiling as she took a waterbottle from the cooler. Her head raised, Y/N’s eyes casting away in hopes she wouldn’t come over but it was too late and she was already walking towards them.
Harry gave Y/N’s hand a gentle squeeze as if to say "be nice," already familiar with her temper. However, she had put up a guard, uncertain whether to trust this girl or not.
“Hi,” She said, “I’m Courtney,” She held a hand out to which Y/N slowly responded, “You must be Y/N, I’ve been watching your games. You’re good.”
Y/N felt her jaw tick at the tone she used in trying to compliment her like she didn’t think she was a good player at all but she was trying to be nice about it.
“Thank you,” Y/N decided to not act out and instead remained civil.
Courtney flashed a pearly white grin, “Yes well my coach thought this whole Academy competition would be good training for the Junior Slam next year. It’s not often something I would participate in but no one can deny the glory of winning something no matter how easy it is.”
Y/N forced a smile, “You’re right, it seems every game just gets easier and easier. I’m sure this next one will be a walk in the park.”
Courtney smirked, her eyes drifting up to see Harry, “Harry,” She acknowledged, “I haven’t seen you since your injury? How is it?”
“Good,” Harry nodded, “Besides the fact I can’t play anymore, I’d say it’s going pretty well.”
Courtney’s smirk deepens, “Is that why you’re doing this? Since you can’t play you’ve got a little pitbull to carry the torch for you.”
Y/N’s fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms, “You know, I’ve been watching you too Courtney.”
Courtney’s expression turned smug as she crossed her arms, “Oh really?”
Y/N nodded, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her nose like she was inspecting it, “Your nose is looking a little crooked after last season. My mother knows a doctor who can fix that if you want their number?”
Courtney scowled and spun on her heel to storm away from them after being reminded of her embarrassing moment from last season where she hit herself in the face with her tennis racket and broke her nose.
Harry chuckled from beside her, “I’m sorry, I know I’m not meant to but she pissed me off when she started talking about your injury like that.”
“It’s okay, if I didn’t think you had it covered I would have said something myself.” Harry began to walk to their side of the courts, “Now c’mon my little pitbull, let’s get to work.”
Y/N scowled at his choice of words but followed him anyway.
. . .
Throughout the entire week whenever they weren’t training - which was less often than they had hoped for but also the reason they were here in the first place - Y/N and Harry spent their evenings exploring the city.
Y/N was thankful Harry had been to Paris plenty of times before, enough to show her around and take her to some of his favourite spots.
Together they went to Harry’s favourite cafe each morning to pick up croissants and pastries to eat outside on the little tables and chairs. They visited the Eiffel Tower where they attempted to take photographs of each other holding it in the palms of their hands. They walked over to the Louvre where Harry paid for them to have a private tour in the evening and they would spend most of their evenings walking hand in hand as they strolled along the Seine.
This must be what being a kid feels like. Y/N thought to herself as Harry lay in between her legs as they sat on the grass right in front of the Eiffel Tower. He was reading a book he had bought from a small, indie bookstore they had come across as they walked through the streets.
Everything in her life had always been meticulously planned or she had to work hard for it, even at the age of eighteen. Both Y/N and Harry had been made to grow up quickly because their parents had raised them that way but together it felt like they had regressed back into their simplest forms. Life felt easy and colourful and magical. Each day, Y/N felt like her heart was shedding hardened skin and was slowly turning into this beautiful ball of light that weighed hardly anything inside of her chest.
She paused her train of thought when she felt Harry’s lips press a kiss to her arm, “Let’s go out to dinner tonight,” He murmured.
Tomorrow was the final and Y/N had been a nervous wreck all day hence why they had attempted to do things that might help her relax. Harry had woken her up with breakfast already carried in by one of the housekeepers and had offered to take her to the spa in the hotel but Y/N was desperate to escape the indoors and go outside so they ended up walking through the streets and stumbling into different shops on multiple street corners. Harry had even bought a baguette to put in his tote bag that they had been nibbling on all day.
“I don’t know if I can handle eating right now,” Y/N admitted, the nerves getting the best of her.
Harry shifted and turned around so he was lying on his stomach, his chin resting on her belly, “You’ll regret it if you don’t eat baby,” He kissed her exposed stomach from where her shirt had risen, “Even if it’s just a little something, y’ can’t go to bed hungry.”
Y/N knew he was right which is how they ended up in one of the fanciest restaurants Harry could have possibly picked from the many Paris had to offer with two plates of pasta and a shared basket of garlic bread between them.
At one point, midway through making her laugh, Harry pulled out his phone to quickly take her picture. Y/N's cheeks tinged pink as she asked, "What did you do that for?"
Harry bit back a grin, “Because you’re my girlfriend and sometimes I take photos of you to make sure this is real,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “What? Do you want to see the whole album I’ve made for you too?”
“A whole album? Ew weirdo,” She teased.
“Not a weirdo, ‘m just obsessed with you,” He says, “Wait until you’ve seen all the playlists I’ve made over the years I’ve been pining for you behind closed doors.”
Y/N’s lips part, “You’re lying,”
“I’m not, I swear,” Harry chuckles, “Remember that box of chocolates you found in your cubby in fifth year on Valentine’s Day?”
“That was not you,” Y/N refused to believe it, “Sarah and I sat in the park after school eating them on the swings after she broke up with Byron.”
“It was,” Harry nodded, his cheeks turning rosy but he carried on, “The day you asked me to teach you to play tennis I felt like I was floating on a cloud at the big old age of eight.”
“But you said no,”
“Yeah because I figured you’d never leave me alone until I did and low and behold here we are today.” He says like he’s been planning this exact moment in time all his teenage life.
“Ah so you’ve been scheming ever since,” Y/N joked.
Harry shrugged, “I may have put things into motion but I think you were always meant to be a part of my life, Y/N.”
Y/N’s heart warmed like he was holding a candle beneath it, “I don’t think I remember anything good that you weren’t a part of.”
He reached for her hand across the table and kissed the inside of her wrist, “You are my good.”
. . .
Harry leaned against the doorframe of the hotel bathroom as he brushed his teeth whilst Y/N lay on the bed in just a towel and underwear having just finished showering. Both their gazes were fixed on the television with re-runs of previous tennis matches playing with the volume down.
Harry’s eyes softened when they looked at Y/N who watched the TV with so much awe on her face. He felt a sense of pride wash over him for both his girlfriend and for himself. After his injury, he thought himself damned and that nothing would give him the rush of playing tennis against big names like he did before but now he had Y/N and life before today seemed non-existent - maybe he hadn’t really been living at all.
He spat out his toothpaste and turned the bathroom light off. He stopped in the doorway in just his boxers when Y/N switched the TV off and there was nothing but the soft, warm glow of the lamp lighting the room.
Her eyes looked up at him, vulnerability shining from them, “If I lose tomorrow will you still look at me the same?” She asked.
Harry frowned, “What do you mean?”
She sighed heavily, sitting up and pulling the towel closer to her to hide her naked chest, “Will you still like me?”
Harry’s eyes softened. It wasn’t often she shared such a vulnerable side with people so whenever he got a glimpse of it, he felt himself spiralling out of control like he was completely at her mercy, “No,” He starts and walks towards her squatting down before the bed and reaching a hand out to hold her cheek, his thumb smoothing over her cheekbones, “But I’ll love you a little harder than I do right now,”
A breath escaped from Y/N’s lips as they parted, her heart pounding, “What?” She breathed.
Harry’s lips curved, “I love you.”
She still couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, “You do?”
Harry said nothing other than a small nod as he waited for her to respond, “I love you too,” She whispered, her eyes glistening, “More than anything in this world.”
Harry didn’t need to hear anything else as he surged forward to kiss her, his bottom lip sliding between hers. Y/N held his face in her hands as she kissed him as hard as she could whilst he crawled onto the bed.
She fell back, feeling the soft sheets beneath her as Harry held himself up above her. The towel around her had loosened her pulse racing as she realised what was happening. “We don’t have to-” Harry started but Y/N kissed him quickly to shut him up.
“I want to,” She murmured against his lips.
Harry nodded, his curls falling around his face as his cheeks tinged pink, “I-I can’t promise I’ll be good,” Y/N immediately shook her head, pushing his curls back and looking him straight in the eye.
“I love you, Harry,” She saw the way his eyes twinkled as she spoke those words, “Whatever we do will be perfect because it’s with you and nobody else. Just us.”
Harry smiles, “The way it’s always been. You and me,”
Y/N mirrors his smile before kissing him again, running her hands up and down his back with nothing but the sound of their lips connecting and their heavy exhales filling the silence of the room.
As Harry kissed down her neck, Y/N felt her nerves escalating as an idea formed in her mind. The towel around her was the only barrier preventing their skin from touching, and she yearned to feel the warmth of his bare chest against hers.
Before getting lost in a spiral of self-doubt, Y/N loosened her grip on the towel. Harry paused his assault on her neck and they both froze, “Holy shit,” Harry whispered maybe to himelf but she wasn’t quite sure, “Okay give me a second,” His eyes squeezed shut and Y/N waited.
Suddenly, Harry’s head glimpsed down at her naked form lying beneath him. The only piece of fabric left on her was a pair of red, lace panties, “Fuck,” Harry cursed, “This isn’t real, pinch me so I can wake up,”
“Harry,” Y/N laughed.
“I’m sorry baby but you’re just gonna have to give me a moment because- Holy shit.” He exclaimed, “This is way better than I imagined,” He muttered, loud enough for her to hear.
Harry was in awe of the girl that lay beneath him, every curve of her body and inch of her soft skin looked as thought it was sculpted by tender hands. His hands gripped the bottoms of her thighs and he felt the hard muscle from months and months of playing tennis and yet, despite all that, her skin was still so damn soft.
Harry couldn’t think up enough words to praise the temple that was her body so he sealed his lips with hers, his tongue darting out filled with lust and need. His fingers slid up her thigh to grip her ass and when his hips rolled against hers she felt him - all of him.
Y/N let out a moan as he kissed down her body, he pulled her into him until her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her arms looped around his neck, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
Y/N hummed, her eyes fluttering shut, as Harry kissed and touched every inch of skin. She felt like all the heavy parts of her were being taken out of her body and only her heart remained. He cupped her breasts in his hand and squeezed, her nipples hardening despite the warmth of his touch. She felt like dough, fluffy and light, and no matter what he did to her they would somehow mould together perfectly.
She felt Harry’s thumb hook the waistband of her panties when he kissed the inside of her thigh, “Harry,” Y/N gasped. It seemed to be the only word she had left inside of her empty head.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, his green eyes peering up at her.
“No,” She said, too quickly, “You can do anything y’ want to me.” She trusted him that much.
Harry shuddered at her words, his heart expanding three sizes inside of his chest. He didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about somebody, to feel like all his calloused skin was peeling off of his body and now he was someone completely new.
With shaky hands, he removed Y/N’s underwear, seeing the way her chest rose and fell. His hands gently pushed her plush thighs apart, “Fuck baby,” He groaned.
“Please Harry,” Y/N mewled, her hips wriggling in hopes the action would propel him to do something.
“Calm down lovie, jus’ admiring how pretty y’ are,” He smirks, his thumb trailing up her slit until it reached her clit. He stopped, hearing her weighted breaths before he began to rub it in slow, teasing circles. He caught the stutter in her breath, watching when her hands fisted the blanket.
Without warning, Y/N feels his warm, wet tongue run between her folds. The sensation feels foreign but she’s overcome by intense pleasure as he begins lapping her through her folds. She feels her lungs deflate as the air escapes her, unable to breathe when he teases her clenching open. Her toes curl as his other hand travels to her hip to hold her down and nuzzle his face harder against her.
Hearing her whines and feeling her writing beneath him, Harry feels his cock throbbing in his boxers, he could feel the damp fabric against his skin as he pressed himself into the mattress with his head still in between her thighs.
“So good,” Y/N babbles, her body shivering when she felt the coil begin to tighten in the pit of her belly, “So, so good Harry.”
Before she could find her release, Harry pulled away his chin glistening with her juices. Y/N’s hands grapple for him but she can barely reach him and feels too floaty to try any harder. Harry’s hair is a mess as he crawls up her bare body and kisses her. She tastes herself on his tongue when they brush against each other, “I need to be inside of you,” He slurs against her lips, “I need you so bad Y/N, I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t.”
Harry’s head hangs, his curls falling in front of his face. Y/N automatically pushes them back, her hips rolling against his. She can feel the damp spot against his boxers despite her own wetness covering her thighs, “I’m on birth control,” She tells him.
Harry groans, his forehead pressing against her collarbones, “Of course you are,” He says, “Always so fucking prepared, aren’t you?” He drawls, “My best girl,”
Y/N’s heart flips and spins at his words, but the reality of the situation sets in when she feels him removing his boxers. She gasps as she feels his hardened length against the inside of her thigh. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but Harry was big; she had no clue whether it was normal for someone to be as thick as he was, and she wondered how she was meant to fit it all inside of her.
“Is this okay?” He murmurs and Y/N nods, “I feel like we should high-five or something,”
Y/N can’t help but laugh, “What?”
“Well we’re both virgins about to lose our virginity, shouldn’t we like boost morale or something?” He jokes and Y/N laughs so hard her cheeks ache.
After they both settle, Harry kisses her quickly as he lines his cock up to her pussy, “Harry?” He hums a reponse, “It’ll fit right?”
Harry groaned, his mind still picturing her small, wet glistening pussy that he had just had his first taste of, “Yes baby, it’s your first time so it’ll hurt a little but if you want to stop we’ll stop and if you say go we’ll go and if you want me to leave you alone for ten minutes, I’ll leave for five. Whatever you want.”
“Okay,” She nods, fully determined, “I love you,”
Harry’s eyes soften, “I love you too, lovie.”
Y/N smiles, “I like that name,”
“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curve.
“Yeah,” Y/N loops her arms around his neck and tries her best to relax when she feels the tip of his cock brush through her folds.
Harry kisses her forehead, “Take a deep breath,” He says and as she does, she feels him push his hips down and his tip gently ease into her. She gasps, feeling her pussy throb as he moves achingly slow, inch by inch inside of her. A thin layer of sweat covers Harry’s forehead, his jaw clenching as he feels her walls squeezing him tightly.
She feels a sting of pain as his thick length pushes through her, her pussy stretching to accommodate his size.
“Baby,” He murmurs, the tip of his nose brushing over her cheek, “If you keep clenching around me I’m gonna cum before I’m all the way inside of you.”
Y/N’s eyes widened, “You’re not all the way in yet?”
Harry cringed, “M sorry, do you want to stop?”
Y/N immediately shook her head, pulling him closer to her, “Keep going,” She whispered despite the fact she was wondering if she even had enough room to fit him inside of her when she already felt so full.
Harry eased into her a little quicker this time, kissing her soothingly and whispering sweet, encouraging nothings into her ear. He even began to rub his thumb against her clit in hopes it would ease some of her discomfort.
Eventually, he found himself all the way, deep inside of her, her walls squeezing him tightly with his hips pressed against her own. “Are you okay?” He murmured.
“Mhm,” Y/N could barely keep her eyes open from how blissful she felt. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, her entire body was just full up of him in ever sense of the word, “Can we stay like this for a moment,”
He kissed her shoulder and along her collarbones, “Whatever you want lovie, doing so well,”
Although he was trying to remain calm for her, Harry couldn’t believe he was buried deep inside of the girl he had loved for so long. He couldn’t feel any part of his body apart from where they were both connected, slotted together so perfectly like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
Her hair splayed out around her on the pillow, her lips were plushy and swollen, and her cheeks were red, the colour of two, crisp apples picked right off a tree. She was a dream, the love of his life.
“Okay,” She murmured, “Y’ can move now.”
“Are you sure?” He would hate himself if he caused her any more pain but she nodded.
A hiss escaped her lips as Harry began to slowly move out of her. He paused, “I just need to get used to it is all,” She assured.
Harry nods, waiting for her to tell him to move again and when she does, he moves gently out of her before carefully thrusting back into her again. Now that she was getting used to the feeling of him inside of her, Y/N could feel the ridges and veins of his cock brush her walls, the tip of his cock pressing into her g-spot as he moved inside of her.
“God Harry,” Y/N whines.
“You’re m’ dream girl,” Harry slurs, biting his lip when he takes in how tight she is as she clenches around him. He grabs one of the hands still placed around his neck and kisses her wrist. He intertwines their fingers and settles their hands beside her head needing to feel her touch, “M’ best girl, I love y’ so much.” He whispers.
“Love you,” She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut as he thrusts over and over again, each one more perfect than the last.
“Y’ pussy is so perfect baby, made for each other, aren’t we? Hmm? Y’ my perfect, dream girl.” He groans, his head falling forward.
Harry pulled his hand away from hers to smear his thumb over her clit. Y/N whimpers and writhes beneath him at the added pleasure, “Faster,” She whispers, “Please.”
Harry presses messy kisses along her jawline, “Don’t have to beg baby,” He hastens his rhythmic thrusts, their moans filling the air.
“Can feel y’ clenching baby?” Harry seemed to already have an idea of when Y/N was about to cum from the way her body shivered beneath him, “Y’ gonna cum?”
“Yes Harry,” She gasps, “Please Harry, it feels so good,” Her eyes pinched with tears at the overwhelming pleasure that filled every part of her.
“Cum round my cock baby, make a mess hmm, need y’ to cum so I can cum too yeah?” He was almost pleading, words tumbling from his mouth as his thrusts began to speed up the closer he got to his release.
Y/N could feel that same coil begin to tighten in her belly, she could see her vision start to blur and all her muscles tighten until it snapped and her back arched into him. He swooped one arm beneath her, pulling her into him and burying his face into her neck as he groaned into her, “Fuck,” He heaved, releasing into her.
Y/N could barely get any words out as he collapsed on top of her. Her eyes were fixated on the ceiling, her lips parting with small puffs of air escaping her. She felt like she was floating, levitating off the bed and leaving her body behind, “Y’ okay baby,” Harry murmured, kissing her cheek, “Come down for me yeah?” He presses a hand to her forehead.
“Harry,” She whimpers, the first word to leave her lips after coming down from her high. She loops her arms around him and he scoops her up into his.
“You did such a good job, m’love,” He coos, moving her matted hair out of her forehead and admiring how beautiful she looked under the soft light of the lampshade.
“Was so perfect,” She whispers, meeting his soft, green eyes and lifting a hand to brush his hair out of his face.
“Yeah?” He smiled, holding her to him like she was something so fragile he was afraid he might break her.
“Mhm,” She hums, curling into him. “I love you,” She kissed his chest and felt his heart thudding against her hand.
“I’ve loved you for a long time,” Harry replied.
They lay tangled together amongst the sheets, waiting to float back down into their bodies but basking in every second they had in that moment where their hearts were the same.
. . .
Y/N lay in bed that same night with Harry’s t-shirt now covering her bare form. Harry laughed as he re-entered the bedroom having just taken his second shower of the evening.
She was watching a tennis match on the TV again.
“You’re watching tennis?” He smiled, falling on the bed beside her, clad only in his boxers. “Is this your version of cigarettes after sex?”
Y/N grins, “What can I say? It’s my addiction.”
He reaches for her hand and mindlessly plays with her fingers but his ears prick when he hears his name from one of the commentators, “This is my game from last year,” Harry speaks, seeing his face appear on the screen.
They watched as Harry walked onto the court exuding confidence as he shook hands with his opponent before the match started. He then pointed his racket at the middle of the stands where the audience was watching.
“Why do you do that?” Y/N wonders, “Before every game, you’d always point your racket at the middle of the audience.”
“Every game?” Harry poked her side.
Y/N rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve watched every single one of your games so what?”
Harry smiled, kissing her bare shoulder and answering, “Because you used to sit there.”
Y/N stilled turning her head to look at him, “What?”
“Whenever I would play at any of my tennis matches, I always looked out for you in the crowd and I’d always find you sitting right in the middle of the bleachers to watch. Eventually, it just became a thing, before I even set foot onto the court, I’d find you sitting in the exact same spot with the exact same expression on your face. I thought you were a good luck charm because whenever you weren’t sat there I’d lose. When I went to matches that you weren’t going to be watching, I just started pointing down the centre courts like my own superstition or something.”
“Is that really the reason?” Y/N’s eyes glistened.
Harry nodded, his eyes casting downward, “S embarrassing I know,”
Y/N shook her head, cupping his face in her hands, “You’re so perfect,” She mumbled, the both of them falling back onto the mattress, getting lost in each other all over again.
. . .
Y/N couldn’t focus on anything other than the crowd gathering in the stands as she sat in her plastic chair on the left-hand side of the umpire’s seat. Harry stood next to her, barely saying a word but offering her his presence to ease her nerves.
Today was the final, the day Y/N had been working towards all these months and it didn’t feel real. The air was hot and humid, Y/N could already feel her skin sticking to the chair as the sun beat down on her.
After waking up this morning, Y/N felt a blissful ache between her legs from her night with Harry. In some ways, she was thankful for it because for a moment it helped her forget what events lay ahead. Their night together had been magical, there was no other way she could describe it. She had no idea what could happen to a person after being so vulnerable with another but she felt lighter and even more in love with Harry than she had ever been before.
Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, “We’ll be starting soon,” He murmured, squatting in front of her to meet her eyes.
They had gone to the gym first thing in the morning to warm up for the day's big event. Harry had tried to distract her mind from the doubts that consumed her by playing bad music or challenging her strength on the bel bars but Y/N’s mind constantly drifted.
“Right,” Y/N felt the pit in her stomach cave inwards, consuming all her insides and mushing them altogether. She felt a wave of nausea as Courtney walked onto the court and everyone applauded her.
“Y/N,” Harry grasped her hand in her lap and squeezed, “You are going to win this. I wholeheartedly believe in you.”
Her shoulders drop, “If I don’t-”
“There’s no ‘if’,” Harry interrupted her before she could finish her negative train of thought, “You can and you will. Courtney may be a good tennis player but her ego outweighs all of that.”
Y/N nods, “Okay,” She says.
Harry stands, his hand cupping her left cheek to lift her head. He grins, “I love you.”
Y/N knows her heart is still intact at least from the way it flips and spins inside her chest at his words, “I love you too.”
A twinkle shines in his eyes until they drift over to the stands. His lips curve, “I think there are some other people here who love you too,” He motions his head towards the crowd and Y/N casts her gaze over in that direction.
She feels her eyes prick with tears when she sees Sarah, Mitch and Adam in the front row of the stands all wearing t-shirts with her name and face plastered onto them. Sarah immediately spots her and waves, pointing to her shirt with excitement and pride for her best friend.
“Did you bring them here?” Y/N asked, looking up at Harry.
He shrugged, “Sarah was insisting she came,”
Y/N squeezes his hand, “Thank you,” She whispers, “For all of this. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” Harry holds her feeling her heart hammering against her chest as too many emotions consume them both.
Unfortunately for her, Harry couldn’t stay at her side for the entire game but he was in the front row of the stands, directly in the middle exactly where she would sit whenever she would watch any of his games back home.
When the umpire announced the game would begin, Y/N walked over to Courtney and shook her hand, “Good luck,” She said.
Courtney scoffed, “Yeah, thanks.”
Y/N rolled her eyes.
As the match began, Y/N and Courtney faced off on the court. The crowd hushed, watching intently. Y/N felt jittery as she waited for Courtney's first serve.
Courtney tossed the ball and swung her racket, sending the ball flying towards Y/N who responded quickly, hitting the ball back with a loud smack.
The game was on. Y/N and Courtney traded shots back and forth, each trying to outplay the other. Y/N felt confident with each move she made, pushing away her earlier doubts until she noticed Courtney begin to counteract her moves when she took in how Y/N responded to each shot.
With one hard-hitting strike, Courtney sent the ball straight past Y/N’s shoulder.
Courtney had the first point.
Y/N glanced over at Harry, seeing him watching with intense focus but his eyes were glued onto her as if she were the only person on the court.
Ignoring Courtney’s smug expression, Y/N served the ball sending it straight into the air and hitting it back with all the force and aggression she could muster. The rally started up again, each stroke a testament to Y/N’s hard work over the past few months. Except this time, the winning prize was closer than it had ever been before.
Y/N aimed the ball and landed it in the corner, Country struggling to reach it in time before it bounced off.
“Fifteen all.” The umpire speaks.
Her ears caught the cheers of her best friend in the crowd, Harry stood and clapped for her but she could still see how tense he was since the game had only just begun.
This back-and-forth continued for the next few rounds. Every time Y/N would move, Courtney would match it. The scores were inching closer and closer to the end. Y/N watched when Courtney served the ball once more and aimed to respond, wrapping both her hands tightly around her racket and running towards the ball as it flung through the air but then she felt it.
An intense pain travelled through her entire body coming from her shoulder and travelling down her arm.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the ball landing right by her as she dropped to her knees and her racket fell from her hands. Y/N let out a pained scream as she clutched her shoulder.
Medics ran onto the court, people gasping in their seats as they watched the events unfold. “Harry,” Y/N whimpered, “Harry,” She was saying his name like he was looking out for him.
“Stop moving,” One of the medics urged when Y/N tried to stand up.
“Harry,” Y/N sobbed, tears falling from her eyes.
She wasn’t sure what hurt more - her shoulder or her heart breaking from the thought of all this being over.
“Y/N,” Harry was out of breath as he approached her, pushing the security out of the way when they tried to stop him. He collapsed to his knees beside her, searching for the damage.
“Harry,” Y/N cried, the only word she could possibly seem to say in a moment like this.
Harry didn’t know what to do. He felt helpless as he waited for the medics to finish checking out her arm. He held her head to his chest, covering her ears as though it would be enough to shelter her from all that was going on around them. “It’s okay baby,” He whispered, trying to remain calm despite the panic he was feeling.
He felt as though this was all some kind of nightmare he couldn’t seem to wake up from. Flashbacks from his own injury came to the forefront of his mind as he sat beside her, his shirt dampening as her tears seeped through. “You’re going to be fine,” He told her, repeatedly like he was trying to make himself believe it too.
“It’s ruined, I failed.” Y/N sobbed.
“Hey,” He held her face, trying to smooth some of the tears away, “You’re not a failure and you didn’t ruin anything. You played so well, the best I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s over,” She couldn’t take in anything he was saying and he knew that.
He knew what she was feeling - how the pain of losing everything outweighed the physical pain of an injury. “I love you Y/N, you’re going to be okay.” Was all he could say.
“Y/N, it's a mild dislocation,” one of the medics explained.
“What?” Y/N tried not to scream as they moved her arm.
“We need to take you to the hospital to get it reset,” they advised, but Y/N shook her head immediately.
“No,” she whispered urgently, “Do it now.”
“Y/N—” Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Ignoring him, Y/N locked eyes with him and insisted, “Put it back in now, and I can finish the game.”
“Y/N, this is crazy,” Harry protested, shaking his head, “I won’t let you go out there in this much pain.”
“You’ve done it before,” she reminded him, “I watched you dislocate your shoulder and keep playing.”
“This is different,” Harry argued, remembering his own injury.
“If I don’t finish this, I would hate myself,” Y/N insisted earnestly, “Please.”
“Y/N, you’ll be at a disadvantage. You’d have to play the entire game with one hand.”
“I know, and I know how to do it,” Y/N reassured him, her eyes softening, “Because you taught me.”
Harry struggled with a gut feeling that this was a terrible idea. “Okay,” he relented, brushing her hair back gently, “Okay.”
“Are you sure?” the medic asked, clearly apprehensive.
“Just do it,” Y/N spoke through gritted teeth.
Harry held the back of her head as she buried her face in his neck, clinging onto his hands tightly. “I’m gonna be so mad at you for this later,” he whispered into her ear.
“That’s okay,” Y/N attempted a smile, but it quickly faded as the medics reset her shoulder. She wailed and squeezed Harry’s hand so tightly he thought it might fall off.
As the medics stepped back, Y/N raised her arm, feeling the pain subside but still present. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.
“No,” Y/N said, “But I have to do this.”
The crowd gasped when Y/N stood, picking up her racket with one hand and flipping it in her hand. Harry stood, glancing over at Courtney who was equally as shocked as everybody else.
He stood in front of Y/N, “I’m so pissed at you right now,” He huffs, “But you better win this.”
Y/N shot him a sad smile, “I’ll try my best.”
He hastily kissed her lips before she could walk away to carry on playing, “That’s all I ask,” He murmured against her. He walks back to his place in the stands, Y/N watching as he goes.
She pushed away the pain that was shooting down her arm and stood on her end of the court to finish the game. Courtney seemed unsure, scanning the way she stood and seeing her limp arm beside her.
Y/N glanced at the academy trophy, feeling like it was now out of reach.
The umpire announced the final round and the tension fell thick in the air. Y/N inhaled a shaky breath and got into position, watching as Courtney threw the ball into the air and hit it with her racket.
Even though one of her arms wasn’t exactly working, her legs worked just fine as she ran for the ball, hitting it with her racket in her one hand. She gritted her teeth when the pain increased with her movements and met Coutrney’s rallies as best as she could. The match raged on, each swing of the racket echoing with the intensity of her cries as Y/N hit the ball.
With each shot, Y/N poured her heart and soul into the game, her movements fueled by sheer determination. The crowd held its breath, watching in awe as she defied the odds with every stroke.
As the pain intensified, Y/N's desperation for the game to end grew. She couldn't understand why Courtney hadn't already sealed the win with one final move. However, Y/N was slowly wondering whether Courtney was using her pain as a way of satisfying her own ego. Y/N noticed whenever she winced or faltered in her movements, Courtney's smirk widened as if she was intentionally prolonging the game to relish in Y/N's discomfort.
A surge of anger ignited within Y/N at the realisation. Harry had been right about Courtney's ego, and now Y/N was determined to turn it against her.
With gritted teeth and a steely determination in her eyes, Y/N squared her shoulders and focused solely on the game. She blocked out the pain, channeling every ounce of her strength and skill into each swing of her racket.
Courtney's smirk faltered as Y/N's resolve became palpable. The crowd sensed a shift in momentum, their cheers growing louder. With each stroke, Y/N felt herself gaining ground, her movements becoming more fluid and precise.
And then, with one final, decisive shot, she sent the ball sailing past Courtney, landing squarely within the boundaries of the court.
Y/N fell to her knees, tears falling from her eyes as she realised she had won the entire game.
Harry, Sarah, Mitch and Adam all leapt from the stands and ran towards her, embracing her carefully so to avoid her aching shoulder.
Harry picked her up, holding her tightly and kissing her face, “You did it,” He grinned, “You won.”
“I did it,” Y/N sobbed in disbelief and then a smile took over her entire face as realisation hit her.
She had won.
. . .
Y/N stood by her locker with Sarah, her arm wrapped in a sling whilst wearing her school uniform. Banners littered the walls of the hallway with ‘congratulations’ written in golden handwriting across them.
“I can’t believe you won’t be coming with me to UCL next year,” Sarah huffed, “How am I meant to do anything without you?”
Y/N smiled at her best friend, “The tennis academy is a twenty minute walk away from UCL so it’s not like we’ll be away from each other.”
“I know but who am I going to roomie with next year?” Sarah sighed, “It won’t be the same. We’ve been roommates since we were five, I can’t trust anybody like I do with you. I mean, you even accept my white noise machine.”
Y/N hadn’t accepted it, she hated that thing, but Sarah was her best friend so she put up with it, “Well how about we get an apartment together?”
Sarah almost gasps, “Seriously?”
Y/N nods, “I was thinking maybe me, you, Mitch and Harry could all move in together since we’re going to be living in the same city.”
Sarah’s entire face lights up at the idea, “Have you told Harry about it?”
“We spoke about it last night.” Last night when she stayed the night at his apartment and spent most of the night tangled up in one another.
Sarah squealed, “I have to tell Mitch, he is going to love that idea. Don’t tell Harry this but the other day he started crying at the thought of having to leave him when the year ends.”
They walked out of the school building together, Sarah rambling about how she wanted to decorate their non-existing apartment as Y/N nodded intently to each of her ideas.
Since the Academy Slam, not much had changed other than the fact that Y/N was now going to be spending the next two years at the Tennis Academy in London. The school newspaper had done another interview with her but this time she didn’t mind so much that Harry shared the front cover with her, pride on his face as he looked down at her.
Even though she was achieving her dreams, nothing compared to the relationship she had with Harry. Everyday Y/N felt like she was floating whenever she woke up in Harry’s arms in his apartment or in her tiny dorm bed whenever Sarah wasn’t around.
A smile covered her entire face when she saw Harry looking like every girl’s wet dream, leaning up against the bonnet of his audi as he waited for her. When he did, his own smile mirrored hers, “Hi baby,” He spoke, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Hi Harry,” Y/N stood toe to toe in front of him, clutching her books in one arm.
He wrapped one arm around her waist beneath her blazer and pulled her into his chest, kissing her lips softly, his breath tasting like mint chewing gum, “How’s m’ girl?”
Y/N bit down on her lip to stop herself from smiling so much, “Good, I had a test today.”
“Did you smash it?” He smirked.
“Yes but I probably could have done better if somebody hadn’t kept me up all last night.” She rolled her eyes.
His lips went to her neck, “Don’t lie, you loved what I did,” He mumbled against her skin as he suckled on her neck, surely leaving a mark.
“These late nights are getting out of hand,” Y/N made a feeble attempt to push him away.
“Mmm,” He hummed, pulling away, “Need I remind you that you were the one to initiate it,”
“I did not,” Y/N gaped.
“Uh huh,” Harry smirked, “Whatever you want to believe.”
“No you were the one who-”
Harry’s smirk deepened, “Who what?” He watched as Y/N’s cheeks turned pink and her mouth open and closed as she struggled to say something.
“Shut up,” She huffed, walking to the passenger seat of his car, “Take me home please,”
“Whatever you want,” He beamed, loving the way she called his apartment her home.
He drove away from the tennis courts, a spark of joy igniting within her every time they came into view. Harry held her hand over the console as they drove down the streets to his apartment, feeling more at peace than she had ever been before. Not only was she going to be going to her dream school but she’d also be with Harry and her best friend too.
For a long time, Y/N believed that tennis was the only love of her life but now she had Harry and if she had to choose between the two, she would pick him every single time.
taglist: @storyschanging @lilbredsticc @esposa-do-harry @st-ev-ie @itschelseacisneros @hermionelove @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hesvoid34 @writersarenotartists @ayeree1 @sassamanda77 @estaticheart
#harry styles fic rec#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagine#fic rec#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#harry edward styles#one direction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#tennisplayer!y/n#tennis rivals#enemies to lovers#harry styles au#tennisplayer!h#rivals to lovers
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Sleepy
Claudia Pina x reader
every time you're around Claudia, you end up falling asleep on her.
Just lots of soft and fluffy :)
Masterlist
You had only been dating Claudia for a short while, but there was something about her that made you the most comfortable you had ever been. Every time you were with her, you immediately let your guard down and finally allowed yourself to relax. It wasn’t even a conscious reaction, just something that happened, not even realizing the little habit you had fallen into until the rest of the team started to notice.
…
It was only a few minutes into the movie when your head leaned to rest on your girlfriend’s shoulder. You were having a movie night with a few of your closer teammates when you started to drift off. At this point, everyone else had noticed the way the two of you were constantly falling asleep every time you sat down together, but the two of you still hadn’t picked up on it. All you knew was that you loved snuggling up with your girlfriend and if that led to a short nap, then so be it.
“Well Pina, at least we know that if football doesn’t work out you could always get a job as someone’s pillow,” Patri giggled at her best friend as she was only met with Pina’s furrowed eyebrows in return.
“What are you talking about?”
This time Vicky took the chance to explain it as Patri was still proud of herself for her joke and laughing too much to do it herself. “She’s literally always sleeping on you every time you get the chance, and half the time you’re asleep too!”
Even though it was all in good fun, your girlfriend got someone defensive at all her friend’s jokes and only pulled you in tighter against her side, grumbling to herself in Spanish as she did so. When your friends noticed her immediate change in mood, they quickly tried to defend themselves from her wrath that they knew she could unleash on them if she thought they were being mean to you. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing, we’re just having fun, Clau.” Patri raised her hands as if to surrender while you continued sleeping next to her.
“Well she’s my girlfriend so sorry if I don’t like it when you talk about her like that.” she continued grumbling in an attempt to avoid snapping at them and waking you up in the progress.
“Pina, seriously. We’re not trying to be mean. It’s cute, okay? You two are just always snuggled up together, it’s sweet.” Patri gave her a look that made it clear how sincere she was being, a look that only her best friend understood. She was genuinely excited for Pina to finally be in a happy relationship that clearly put her at ease.
The brunette gave her best friend a nod as everyone turned back to the movie playing in front of you, letting her annoyance with her friends disappear when she looked at your face resting peacefully against her. The look on your face instantly put her at ease, causing her to rest her head against the top of yours to keep watching.
It had been her turn to pick the movie tonight, something that was a coveted honor within your group. Because of this, it should’ve been easy for her to pay attention and engage with it.
It should’ve been.
About ten minutes later, Claudia had joined you in your nap, much to the dismay of everyone else in the room as they whispered at each other. No matter how much they would tease you both, they still weren’t trying to wake you up.
“Are you kidding me, she was the one who wanted to watch this stupid movie?!” Vicky was the first to complain, as she typically was when she got the opportunity to tease you, but Jana was quick to defend you both.
“No, but you have to admit it’s kind of cute, the way they’re always falling asleep together. Pina never got a normal amount of sleep before she got with (y/n).”
“It’d be a lot cuter if it wasn’t during our movie nights! Especially when she’s the one who insisted on this!”
“Hey! Will you guys be quiet, you’re gonna wake them up!”
Cata rolled her eyes at the way Patri was sure to defend you, “They’re not gonna wake up, they slept the entire bus ride yesterday and it was only an hour. And that was with all of us yelling and dancing around the whole time, I don’t know how they do it.”
“Patri don’t you live right by here, why don’t we just go to your place and watch something there so they can keep sleeping?” Everyone seemed to be in agreement with Jana’s voice of reason and quietly made their way out, not before cleaning up some of their snacks and pausing the movie, knowing how badly Claudia wanted to see it, even if she fell asleep so soon into it. Patri sent you both a text to let you know where they went on the off chance one of you woke up, even if the odds were low.
…
Neither of you woke up until hours later when your backs started to hurt from the way you were balled up on the couch.
“Clau, what time is it?” Your voice was rough from sleep, only cracking your eyes open slightly, surprised to not see any of your friends left in her apartment.
The brunette only responded with a groan, adjusting herself slightly but still holding tight against you. Her lack of response made you decide to check yourself, digging in the couch cushions for your phone. “Baby, it’s almost eleven, everyone went to Patri’s when we fell asleep.”
“Don’t move, I’m comfy…” she mumbled into you, hardly coherent, only making you giggle against her.
“If we sleep like this any longer, we both know we’re gonna regret it in the morning. It’s late, we should get you to bed, and I should head home.” When you started to move off of her, she only pulled you back.
“Wait, don't get up… not yet. You can stay over, if you’d like?”
“I don’t want to interrupt your sleep, Clau. You need rest for training tomorrow.” You wanted nothing more than to stay over and sleep all night in your girlfriend’s arms, cuddled up in her blankets, breathing in her scent. However, the last thing you wanted to do was intrude, especially when you knew how little sleep the midfielder typically got.
She pushed herself to sit up, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to, but I sleep a lot better when you’re with me. You don’t need to worry about messing up my sleep,” she paused for a moment, unsure if she should bring it up. “And I think you feel the same, no? The girls were talking about it earlier when you first fell asleep.”
Her last statement left you confused. Why would your friends be discussing your sleep? Or your relationship? Claudia seemed to see the confusion on your face and took the opportunity to continue on. “They were talking about how we’re always falling asleep on each other and I guess I didn’t realize it until they said it but they’re kinda right. Everytime I’m with you I’m just so comfortable and relaxed that it puts me straight to sleep and I think you do too.”
The second she said it, you thought back to all the times you used your girlfriend as a pillow. Every flight you took, you’d pass out on her shoulder before the plane even took off. The number of bus rides the two of you would curl up together, instantly tuning out all your friends being loud around you. There were a few times where one of you fell asleep in the passenger seat, holding hands as the other drove. Or on the beach, in the midst of sunbathing, pinkies linked together so you could be together without messing up your tans. You couldn’t even count the number of movies you missed, sometimes alone with Claudia, sometimes with all your friends around, annoyed that you were missing it. Anytime you were laying on the couch reading, if she sat down to join you, you’d instantly pass out next to her. There were a couple times she even fell asleep against you when you sat next to each other in the locker room after a long day of training (that one always earned you lots of teasing). She would sit down next to you in front of your locker, throw her head on a shoulder with a long sigh, and instantly fall asleep.
But nothing was better than when you got to spend an entire night together. Nothing felt more at home to you then being engulfed in Claudia’s arms, getting the best sleep of your life. You would always be sharing some form of physical contact while she muttered soft words of love to you.
“I love the way your hand fits in mine.” That was for when you were both too warm to be cuddled up close and were only connected by your hands interlocked between you.
Or when her head was nuzzled into the crook of your neck and she would always mumble into your skin, “You smell so good, mi amor.” Usually when she did that, it’d leave you in a fit of giggles from the way her nose tickled against your skin.
You loved when she woke up next to you and you got to tease her for the way her long hair was all over, usually in your face as well as her own. No matter how much you’d tease her for her messy hair, she’d just mumble, half asleep, “I love when your voice is the first thing I hear when I wake up.”
Anytime you had to wake her up, you loved the way her face scrunched up and her eyebrows furrowed, only holding onto you even tighter, not wanting to leave your little bubble of peace.
You didn’t even realize that she was equally as obsessed with your time sleeping together until she said it. There was nothing Claudia cherished more than when she’d be tracing soft patterns through your hair and ask you, “do you like that?” And you always responded with “I like everything you do, Clau.” and cuddled into her side further.
Thinking about all your naps together brought a small smile to your face. You hadn’t realized it until she said it, but she was absolutely right. Being in her presence brought you a level of comfort that you rarely experienced. Of course it put you to sleep; it was the only time you weren’t stressing about everything else going on in your life. The second you were with her, your mind was put completely at ease and all your problems melted away. It wasn’t that you were just so sleep deprived you couldn’t stay awake, it was just that you were completely at peace with everything when you were together.
…
“Amor, will you please stay over?” When you snapped out of your thoughts, Claudia was looking at you with puppy dog eyes and sticking her bottom lip out at you, a face she knew you had a hard time saying no to.
“You know I would have said yes even without the face?” her pout broke into a smile at your answer.
“I needed the face to make sure of it! That’s the money maker here, amor.” All you could do was roll your eyes and shake your head at her as she pulled you up to lead you into her room. If the puppy dog eyes were all it took to get you to spend the night with her, she’d be using them even more often, because she couldn’t have been more excited to continue your habit of passing out in each other’s arms.
Can we tell how much I love naps? Always looking for requests!
Masterlist
#claudia pina#claudia pina imagine#claudia pina x reader#barcelona femeni#woso imagines#woso one shot#woso x reader#fcb femini#espwnt#wosoreading24/7#wosoreadingclaudia
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DRAGON DREAMS.
Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader
Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares. But you and your husband both know you’re not gifted with such abilities.
WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), nightmares, slight angst, fluff
WORDS: 625
NOTES: this was requested by @marthawrites. Hope you still like it! 💕
It’s impossible for you to run.
Your feet are firmly planted on the ground, not moving regardless of you tugging and pulling at them to lift them and escape the brown dragon in front of you. Even your voice catches in your throat, unable to scream when the large mouth of Sheepstealer snaps towards you, the sharp teeth appearing even more intimidating with the light of the moon reflecting from them.
You stir awake, beads of sweat forming along your hairline and in the valley between your breasts. A hand on your mouth is meant to stifle your screams and sobs, not wanting to wake up your husband. Your breathing is heavy, and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the darkness of your chambers as you prop yourself up on your elbows.
Still half asleep, Aemond rolls onto his side and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you into his embrace, your head resting against his chest as his nose nuzzles into your hair.
“Bad dream?” It’s more a statement than a question, because your husband knows the answer. Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares.
But you and Aemond know you’re not gifted with such abilities, it’s just that your mind has a lot to process with the rising tension between both sides of your family.
His presence always works wonders, the warmth radiating off his body and his scent slowing your panicked breathing and the turmoil inside of your mind, allowing you to melt into him.
While Aemond’s hand cups the back of your neck, his fingers apply just a bit of pressure to your stiff muscles in order to release the pent up tension, and you find yourself being able to speak again.
“I—It‘s…,” you stammer, your breathing still causing you to stutter through a sentence. “Sheep…Sheepstealer,” you sigh, “he… he...”
A gentle nod reassures you to continue as you crane your neck to look up at him.
“We wanted to fly to Dragonstone,” you sniff, panic settling in your bones again at just remembering what has happened. “Vhagar was already high up in the sky, when… and when I wanted to mount him, h… he…”
Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head and holds you against his body to calm you down. “He ate you?” he finishes the sentence for you, and you just nod hurriedly, mumbling a ‘yes‘ against his chest.
Most people, including your parents, perceive Aemond as cold and ignorant, and the gods know he can be like that. You have thought that too for the longest time, or rather from the moment he has lost his eye to the moment your courtship has been made official, but you have learned to see the genuine intent behind the things he does, hear the subtle changes in his voice, and suddenly he was just as attentive as any other man around, if not even a bit more.
Aemond kisses the crown of your head before speaking, “Your bond is strong, my love, and you know he would never do that.” And he is right. Even before you’ve bonded with Sheepstealer, the dragon never showed any ill-will toward you. He always was curious, despite the many failed attempts of claiming him other people had tried before.
“Avy jorrāelan,” you mumble. I love you.
“Avy jorrāelan,” comes the reply.
That Aemond’s grip doesn’t loosen around you makes it easier to find sleep again, and while your soft snores already fill his ears, he nuzzles his nose into your hair to take in your scent, thinking about a way to put this misery to an end.
Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @odairtrqsh @mfedits
#house of the dragon aemond#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond fic#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#hotd fic#hotd angst#hotd fluff#aemond angst#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond fluff#house of the dragon fic#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon#aemond stannies
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https://twitter.com/jorgez86/status/1786091450238926874?t=qpE0itH41pxOOlJjXdrfNg&s=19
Can you write about Konig who can't stop touching his girlfriend's boobies?
I know I'm sending a lot of requests at the same time but I had to hold myself back to not text you because I know request closed for a reason. Please don't feel obligated or overwhelmed, I just send it and it's okay if you ignore my request, because you're a just human being!❤️❤️❤️
That woman is blessed with the sorest of all backs😮💨 Never feel bad for sending them! 🥰🥰
Just a Few Hours (fem)
MDNI 🔞
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, groping, dirty talk
1.1k word count
💒
.
.
Big breast was never a requirement for dating. Sure, König loved watching porn with big breasts, but he’s found all breast sizes have their perks. Plus, he can’t exactly be picky. Tall, awkward, and not exactly handsome; he had trouble pulling anyone.
When home from deployment, König tried to find some sort of peace. He would go to the local park early in the morning before it became crowded with kids and cheerful people. It was one of the few moments in his life where things felt okay. The chaos could just stop.
Little did he know you, this big breasted goddess, also felt the same way about early mornings in the park. From the corner of his eye he saw you approaching, the slight jiggle from your breasts noticeable to him. Turning his neck to see you head on, his jaw literally dropped. Underneath your loose-fitting band t, your breast bounced so perfectly.
“Hallo.” The words fell out of his mouth before he even realized it.
You looked over to see the most beautiful icy blue eyes gazing up at you as he sat on the floor by a tree.
“Hi.” You smiled so sweetly his way.
One impulsive hello sparked a full two-year relationship. König genuinely fell in love with who you are as a person, your breasts just being a massive perk imaginable. No matter the situation, König can’t keep his hands to himself.
Normally, you wouldn’t mind, but today is your friend’s wedding. König drives the both of you as he sulks about the time he has to spend away from you. One hand on the steering wheel, the other cupping your breast.
“Schatz, I’m going to go crazy being without you for a whole day.” This middle finger lightly flicks over your nipple through the fabric of your evening dress. The dress required you to not wear a bra. König, of course, didn’t mind; but now he would be a fool the whole time.
“König, I’m literally going to be right next to you the whole time.”
“Ja, but I can’t touch you.” He glances over at his hand on your breast, softly jiggling it.
“You’re too much König.” You laugh, shaking your head.
“Can you blame me? You’re perfect.” He reaches his hand behind the fabric and pulls out the breast he’s been playing with. “Other one too.” He demands you to take it out.
“König, you’re driving. Someone could see.”
“I’ll drive safe…plus the windows are tinted. Come on.” He doesn’t take no for an answer, so you oblige and take out your other breast.
“Mein Gott…” Every time seeing your breasts is like the first time again.
He moves his hands over and squeezes both of your breasts before his fingers play with your nipples. He gives attention to both of them equally. You let him continue until you got close to the venue, pushing his hand away to slip your breasts back into your shirt.
“Liebling,” Köing sounds so pathetic as if you took a toy away from a whining dog.
“Stop, act normal.”
“Act normal? I always act normal.” He mumbles under his breath as he pulls into the parking lot and searches for a spot.
Once the car is parked, he unbuckles his seat belt and turns his head to you. He watches your breasts move as you take off your own seat belt. Your eyes meet his and you can see that he is just paying attention to them.
“König, my door?”
“Oh!” He gets out of the car quickly and rushes over to the other side to open the door for you. He playfully bows, “My lady…”
You laugh and step out of the car. He holds his hand out for you to grab. You both walk forward to the wedding venue. The whole wedding was hell. König was not only forced to meet new people, but he was also expected to keep his hands to himself. As the couple exchanged their first kiss as husband and wife, everyone around began to cheer.
He watches you stand, and takes the lead. You all cheer as the couple leaves the room. König leans over and whispers in your ear, “Maybe we can have a quicky before they start the reception?”
“No.” You whisper back quickly.
König rolls his eyes and just keeps clapping. Once the bride and groom leave, slowly the rows of people begin to file out of the door. With everyone clearly not minding the both of you, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back to him. Slowly his hand crept up to grasp your breasts. His fingers pinching your nipple before you swat his hand away.
He looks down at you before inching back up towards your breast, squeezing hard so you can’t move him so easily. You try to suppress your laugh by nudging him with your elbow.
“Stop!” You hiss playfully.
“Liebling, I can’t stop.” He chuckles under his breath, squeezing once more before letting go so you can exit the venue.
Walking outside, on your way to the reception König keeps his arm over your shoulder. His eyes watching your breasts bounce out the corner of his eye.
“You know, weddings are a celebration of love. I don’t see why I can’t just carry you into the bathroom and show you how much I love you.” His fingers dance in small circles just above your cleavage.
“Their love, not ours.”
“I still don’t see the issue.” His voice laced with desire as he looks around to make sure no one was looking. He slowly slips his hand into your dress and cups your breast in his hand again.
“König!”
He quickly withdraws his hand due to your tone. “Sorry…” a small smirk forms on his lips, he loves it when you get like this.
“You really can’t keep your hands to yourself for one second?” You stop talking and look up at him.
“Wha-…” König tries to hide his smirk. “I can.”
“You’re so annoying.” You huff as you turn to continue walking.
“And you’re so sexy.” He pulls you back to him. “Stop being grumpy. You never have an issue.”
“We are never at a formal occasion, König.”
He lets out a deep sigh before leaning down to kiss your lips. “Fine, I’m sorry for not listening. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“Thank you…” You smile up at him, tapping your lips for another kiss.
Happily, he brings his lips back to meet yours. His muscular arms wrap around your body and grip you against his body. Feeling your breasts press against him.
“When we get home, I want you to suffocate me with your breasts.” He whispers in your ear.
“How about, I let you fuck them. Only if you’re a good boy.” You match his energy.
König’s eyes light up as they open wide, a goofy look of excitement crosses his face. “I’ll be the best boy for you.”
#konig#konig x reader#könig#konig cod#konig x y/n#könig x reader#konig smut#könig smut#könig cod#könig mw2#konig x reader smut#konig x you#x reader#cod smut#smut#könig x you#cod konig#könig call of duty#könig x y/n
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SWIM ★彡
Pairing: Nika Mühl x Girlfriend!Reader
Warnings: shower sex
Summary: you’ve never seen Nika this mad after a game, jaw clenched shut and eyebrows furrowed. It has an affect on you that’s shameful, and she makes sure to remind you.
A/n: requested by VARIOUSSS anons. Luv u guys
THE DOOR SHUTS behind you loudly, and you can’t help but jump at the force of it. Nika almost pushes past you and heads straight for the kitchen, downing a glass of water and roughly wiping her mouth afterwards. She’s staring into nothing, mind obviously racing after a disastrous game.
You know better than to say anything to her, when she doesn’t preform how she hoped it’s best to keep a distance. Nika is usually good tempered and you’ve always loved that about her; her practicality, her levelheaded-ness. It came in handy when you were needy and exasperated, the way she’d simply purr your name and smile was enough to calm you down…even if her fingers were inside of you.
Her pent up anger was not unheard of, but still rather alien. What freaked you out more was how much of a struggle it was proving to be to keep quiet and distant.
Nika is bulldozing throughout your apartment now, throwing her jacket on the couch and tossing her shoes by the door before roughly yanking out her ponytail in a way that you know must hurt her.
“Can you stop fucking looking at me?” She snaps, her eyes narrowing at you and finally acknowledging your presence.
“Sorry.” You swallow, though you can’t help but admire her. It’s impossible to avoid the twitch in your pussy at the ferocity of her stare, her toned body slumping on the couch, or the frustrated lilt in her voice.
“Did you have fun?” She asks. “Watching me play like a loser today. Did you enjoy it?” She says now, dangerously calm compared to her earlier tone.
Nervously, you say “Of course I didn’t.” To which she raises an eyebrow.
“So it must’ve been a waste of time watching your girlfriend play like shit, huh.” Nika scoffs. “Were you embarrassed?”
“No!” You rush out, approaching her carefully. “I’m never gonna be embarrassed, Niks. It was one bad game, shit happens.”
She doesn’t have to say anything back, you already know the look on her face by heart. It’s one anyone who’s involved with an athlete knows, the look that says ‘you couldn’t possibly understand’. That expression on her face is one that you dread.
“Tell me what you want me to do Nika. How do I support you through things like this?” You sigh.
“You can support me by backing off.” She smiles, not with her usual kindness but with some sort of buried anger. “N’ stop gawking at me like a lost puppy. It’s fucking annoying.”
You cross your arms at this. You love Nika, but her anger makes her unreasonable.
“You sure you want me to back off? You’re the one who asked to come to my apartment.”
She stares at you for a moment that feels too long, the weight of her gaze growing heavier and harder to hold by the moment. You can’t read her expression anymore and it’s both enticing and nerve wracking.
“Since you wanna be smart,” she says, getting up from the couch and sauntering up to you. “I can think of something else you can do for me.”
Her tone is different now. Demanding in a way that excites you. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs together. “Anything you want.” You mumble. “I’ll do it.”
Nika’s eyes sparkle at this, clearly satisfied with your answer. “Strip.”
You’re frozen at her order. She’s seen you naked before, but not under pressure like this. She notices your hesitation and tilts her head. “You said anything, right?”
You nod slightly, slowly pulling off the top you’d worn to her game as well as your shorts before timidly un clipping your bra, leaving your breasts bare and nipples hardening from the new cold of your apartment. You try your best to hold her eye as you slip your panties down your legs and step out of them and towards her.
The feeling of standing there stark naked as your girlfriend soaks in the sight of you in silence is more vulnerable than anything you’ve felt in a long time. You can’t help but bring your hands to your breasts in attempts to cover something.
When Nika’s lips meet yours it’s languid and calculated, her hands ripping your own from your chest as she clashes teeth with you. Letting go of your wrists, she says. “Go turn on the shower.” And when you look at her inquisitively she shoots you a smirk. “I’ll be there soon.”
-
You let the water warm until steam forms to coat the glass doors of the shower, your hair now soaked through and your skin hot. The sound of the bathroom door opening and closing sends a shiver down your spine, and when the glass opens and closes you know Nika has kept her word.
Nothing happens at first, she stands under the water with you, wetting her hair and skin whilst closing her eyes beneath the shower head. You know she can feel you staring, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t with her bare body on display. Her muscles glistening and wet, her belly piercing gleaming through the steam. When your eyes part from her body, they meet her own.
When your lips clash again it’s sensual and charges with a force you can feel deep in your core. Her hands are quickly on either sides of your head when your back hits the cold tile of the bathroom wall, and you let yourself grasp at her tan flesh while she explores your mouth.
“What do you want me to do, Niks.” You huff out between kisses.
“Be quiet.” She says in an instant. “N’ let me fuck you.”
You nod fervently at her request, allowing her to suckle your neck and chest until you’re painted pink and purple. You know she loves to mark you, to have a remnant of her on your body is like a dream come true for the both of you.
As her mouth latches onto your tit, her fingers begin to tease at your pussy. She just barely rubs your clit, smiling at your whines and pleads.
“You don’t even deserve this.” She sighs. “You don’t care if I win or lose, you jus know you’re getting fucked anyways.”
She’s still teasing you, applying pressure and then taking it away at every breath you take. Your hips are beginning to buck at the stimulation or lack of thereof.
“Please, baby.” You beg, throwing your head back. “Please just touch me.”
Nika clicks her tongue before slipping two fingers inside of you. “Keep looking at me or else I’ll get out of the shower.” She grunts.
You hurriedly shift your gaze to her, and the sight is mesmerizing, her tongue swirling around your nipple while her fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Her hair is wet and spread out down her back and over her breasts, her cheeks are pink from the hot water.
Your legs begin to shake when she quickens her pace, watching her digits disappear and reappear into your heat as she innocently smiles. The sound of your slick is just barely covered by the loud noise of the running water that drenches both of you. You reach a hand out to the glass that encloses the shower, leaving a handprint. Nika notices this and immediately has an idea.
In an instant you’re shoved against the glass, and you gasp at the sudden contact all while her fingers are still inside you. “Nika!” You exclaim. “Careful, the glass might-”
“Shut up,” she murmurs, head now resting on your shoulder. She’s pressed flush against you as she stretches you out. “You won’t break anything.”
You trust in her words and allow yourself to loosen up again. The sight from the other side must be immaculate, your breasts, face and hands pressed against the steam covered glass. If your roommate was to need to use the washroom for anything, she’d surely never be able to look you in the face again.
Nika rubs the condensation from a spot in the glass so you can see outside, directly into the mirror that faces you. The scene is so lewd you can feel your orgasm building.
“Look at you.” Nika coos. Her own eyes are also trained on the mirror, on your face screwed up in pleasure, on your pussy sucking her in. “How slutty is this?”
“Nika.” You cry, moaning a mess of words as your stomach gets tenser by the minute. “I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it.” She orders, and as if clockwork you climax all over her fingers. She presses a harsh kiss to your cheek and releases you from the pressure against the glass shower wall.
You hug her underneath the stream of the shower and she laughs. “Are you feeling better?” You mumble into her neck, and she nods. “Much better.”
“Good.” You smile. “Now clean me up and take me out of here.”
#Spotify#fanfiction#fanfic#uconn wbb#rpf#nika muhl x reader#nika mühl#nika muhl#nika muhl smut#Nika mühl smut#smut#uconn women’s basketball#uconn x reader#ncaa wbb#wbb#wbb x reader#x reader
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“After all he’s done he doesn’t deserve—“ listen can you honestly say YOU *deserve* a happy ending?? There is no deserve!! A happy ending is a happy ending cause it always always always comes as an unexpected gift. There is always always always the 2/3 point in the story where it is undeserved and unattainable and not going to be given. Because it can only be given!! And yet!!! Still it comes!! A eucatastrophe!! For you and me!! Undeserved!!!
#shut up about deserve!!!!!#also 99% of the time this rhetoric is deployed it’s in a scenario where the Good Guys Who Deserve A Happy Ending ‘deserve’ it simply cause#they are labeled the Good Guys#and they’ve been crossing the same lines as the Bad Guy Who Doesn’t#examples: Ward betraying everyone and everyone treating him like an irredeemable monster when they are SPIES it’s their JOB to trick and#betray people and they have all done that for much less reasons! but because it was *them* that’s different#also this post is in response to some tweet about Flynn I had the misfortune to see and that’s actually the least arguable because#literally everything Flynn has done they have done at this point too#each and every one of the team has killed someone in a scenario where they didnt *need* to be killed (if you can even say that)#they’ve stolen tech for their own goals they’re ruining history to eradicate Rittenhouse and get their own loved ones back like#they’re court martial Ed government most wanted a#the only thing Flynn’s done they haven’t is actually go to jail for it cause he was un sanctioned by the Declarer of Rights and Wrongs-#What The Government Wants#murdered historical figures? so have they#like. there is no moral line between them#no reason they ‘deserve’ it and he doesn’t#I’m terribly sad but also there is beauty to that ending#but tweet person from the crew you are WRONG#you can’t put a moral dividing line like that between ‘us’ (always good) and ‘them’ (don’t deserve happiness too bad)#because one day you *will* find yourself on the other end of that line#and then you will have labeled yourself doomed and undeserving#mercy is everywhere dummy let’s all get some!!
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50+ things to script in your desired reality.
things to script in your desired reality !! ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
persona.
♡ what you mean to say will always come across that way & never be misinterpreted.
♡ voice doesn’t crack or shake.
♡ you have the aura / energy you desire (intimidating, warm, etc.)
♡ fluent in desired langue.
♡ you can listen to any piece of music & play it perfectly on any instrument.
♡ you are able to conceal your identity / presence with ease (survival dr’s, fame dr’s)
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
impact.
♡ you make people feel more motivated.
♡ you have an aesthetic named after you.
♡ you have popularized a signature style.
♡ you have popularized a signature makeup style.
♡ your the face / ambassador of your favorite brand.
♡ everything your wear sells out immediately.
♡ you have a recognizable voice.
♡ people don’t get tired of seeing you.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
appearance.
♡ no bad angles.
♡ you have the ability to do any hairstyle.
♡ you are able to recreate any makeup look with ease.
♡ your nail polish doesn’t chip or crack.
♡ makeup does wipe away or smudge when you blow your nose or rub your eyes.
♡ clothes are always fit well on you despite your body type.
♡ immune to bloating / feeling puffy.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
clothing.
♡ clothes are never itchy / scratchy.
♡ clothing never wrinkles.
♡ sweaters never pill.
♡ clothes are always pre-tailored to your body / clothes fit well.
♡ no color looked bad on you / washes you out.
♡ clothes don’t shrink in wash.
♡ shoes (mainly heels) don’t hurt when walking in them.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
hygiene (?)
♡ you constantly smell like your favorite perfume.
♡ you don’t sweat.
♡ hair always looks shiny / healthy.
♡ hair never gets knotty / tangled.
♡ hair doesn’t get damages from heat / products / hair dye or bleach.
♡ you don’t accumulate plaque on your teeth.
♡ you never fell ill or get sick.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
technology.
♡ phone never dies.
♡ phone will never crack or break.
♡ your charger never bends / only works at one angle.
♡ all devices / technology use the same kind of charger & outlet.
♡ always have service.
♡ wifi is never spotty / not working.
♡ people don’t try to talk to you when you have your headphones on.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
action.
♡ you never feel out of breath.
♡ you never feel that sharp side pain that happens when you run for a while.
♡ you know names of all weapons / how to use them.
♡ you know how to heal / mend injuries.
♡ swords / gvns / shields aren’t heavy.
♡ body doesn’t get sore after fighting / working out.
♡ high pain tolerance.
♡ you don’t bruise easily.
♡ you heal quickly.
♡ you have good balance.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
thank you for reading ! i love you !!!
#reality shifting#desired reality#shifting#shiftblr#shiftok#shifting motivation#shifting realities#shifter
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KBDDDDD AHHHHHHHHH
—Steve takes the lead when your baby makes a mess. mom!reader, 1.5k
Your hands are soft. Steve holds both of them in one of his, not quite big enough for a comfortable fit, but it’s alright. Your pinky finger rests against his knee. Doesn’t fit in his hand, but it doesn’t matter.
Steve loves you because you’re you. And so many things make you who you are, he couldn’t boil them down into just one thing. Maybe it’s your brightness he loves most, how you lean down next to him and smile into his tricep for no reason. Maybe it’s that you’ve never been cruel to him, not once. You have this capacity for love that you don’t see in yourself, but he does. You don’t expect anything from him that he can’t give.
He lets his head drop down to rest on yours.
If he’s clingy, you’re worse. You settle closer into his side with a content sigh nearly too quiet to hear. Then comes a scratching sound. His thumb, which had been employed in a soft back and forth into one of your palms, comes to a stop.
You sigh again. Less content. “Why’d you stop?” you mumble.
“Can you hear that?”
“No… What is it?”
He shakes his head, turning his face back into your head. “Nothing. Must be the wind.”
You take back one of your hands to rest on your stomach. “She’s kicking.”
“Is she? Can I feel?”
You press Steve’s hand to your bump and wait for him to feel it. He waits for another kick, not so much a vibration as a distension, the force of a movement. It’s like she’s saying hello, only he can’t feel it. You pull his hand down to the bottom of your stomach and nudge your shirt up so he’s skin to skin.
“She’s shy now you’re watching,” you say.
He turns his head in the other direction and you laugh, which makes him laugh, the volume of you both nearly not quite occluding a second heavy scratching sound from upstairs.
You stop laughing. “What is that? Is that Avery?”
Steve sighs. It had been really, really nice to sit with you and just get to appreciate you for a moment, but duty always calls. And no offence to you, but he’d much rather know Avery was safe, because what the heck is that sound?
He stands and helps you up, though he doesn’t wait for you to follow. Steve bounds up the stairs two at a time and you giggle and follow, saying something he misses about his rushing, how he’s gonna fall flat on his face. He yanks down the handle on Avery’s room and pushes open the door.
Your toddler looks up with caught eyes. “Oh.”
“Babe, what!” Steve looks around at the mess she’s made and turns around to shut the door.
“Steve, what is it?” you ask, still on the stairs.
“Baby, if you see this you’re gonna panic. It’s just a mess, and it’s going to upset you so bad. Go sit down. I’ll clean it up.”
He decides honesty will be his best strategy. Remarkably, it works. You get to the top of the stairs and turn for your room, saying, “All right. I don’t wanna see.”
Avery’s in the adorable place between baby and toddler where she has lots of her babyhood still intact, but she’s her own broad person. She can talk, and walk, and do terrible awful things. If you saw the mess you’d never agree to another baby if you weren’t already having one, it’s horrific; where she found her crayons Steve doesn’t know, but there’s scribbles over everything. The walls, the bed, the windowsill.
She frowns at him with her eyes full of tears and drops a crayon on the floor, caught red-handed.
Steve nips out of her room to the bathroom for a spray bottle of cleaner and a rag. You lay on the bed in the main bedroom with your hand over your eyes.
It takes him a long time to clean off what he can. The walls become a rainbow blend and then a dark green sludge over baby pink, but he scrubs, and Avery tries to help near his knee. Despite what he’d said about it being a potentially upsetting scene should you have seen it, mess doesn’t stress Steve out anymore. You’d only panic because you’re pregnant, not because it’s a permanent problem. You’re easily upset lately.
“Good job, baby,” he says, kissing Avery behind the ear as she wipes the rag over the wall. “Can dad have a turn now? We need to clean this mess up before you fall asleep.”
“Not sleepy,” she says, dropping into his lap with a thump.
“No? So the sleepies in your eyes are for show, huh? Mr. Sandman gave you those for no reason.” He drops the rag, wiping his hand dry on his pants, and pressing it to her back. She’s more him than you and she’s beautiful nonetheless, sulky eyes and eyebrows like his, her little mouth. She rounder in the face, and she’s got a more feminine shape to her chin, but when she wobbles on his thigh with the effort it takes to fight sleep she looks exactly like him. Her eyes flicker closed.
“Avery,” he says, nudging her close to his chest, “we’re gonna have a big talk about crayons in the morning.”
“Nigh-nigh.”
Steve breathes out a short breath. “Yeah, nigh-nigh. I love you, messy girl.”
“Love you.”
Snores. Immediate snores. Steve lets her settle for a minute and then stands, holding her to his chest as he throws her sheets further back in bed and puts her down. He tucks her in, kisses her forehead, and cleans the rest of her room in silence. It takes ages, but nobody’s upset when he’s done.
You peek from under your arm.
“I’m sorry.”
He sits by your hip. “Ooh, for what?”
“That sounded awful.”
“Yeah, it was, you should be ashamed of yourself.” He looks for something to squeeze, deciding on your shoulder. “No, it was fine. She helped, and she’s back in bed.”
“I should go give her a goodnight kiss.”
Steve brings his hand to your face. Draws a curve down your cheek. When he cups your jaw, you stay still and wait for him to talk. He has the strangest feeling, like you’d wait all night. “You can give her a goodnight kiss, just there’s still some crayon on the wall. But we’ll paint over it, okay? I promise. Nothing’s ruined.”
“Was it everywhere?”
“On the walls and her bed. A lot more came off than I expected. And can you be mad? She’s an artist. That’s artistic expression.”
“Not mad. Just worried we won’t fix it and then we’ll have the baby and it’ll never get fixed.”
“I promise,” he whispers, leaning in. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”
You don’t have to say okay or thank you. Your hand searches for his as he stays there over you, your eyes met.
“I believe you,” you say finally.
“I know, I’m just looking at you. You have a sleepy like Avery did.”
You laugh and turn out of his hand. The reason goes unsaid, Steve, you’re so romantic.
“How’s that baby?” he asks, before you can roll away.
“She’s kicking, yeah. Everytime she hears your voice.”
He stops. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious. You’re talking and she’s hitting me right in the spleen.”
“You don’t even know where your spleen is,” Steve says, putting his hands together. He is not afraid or ashamed to beg. “Can I feel it, please?”
“You don’t have to ask.”
He doesn’t always, of course he doesn’t. There’s love and trust in spontaneity, but there’s also trust in knowing you’ve had a long day, and you don’t enjoy being poked at like a poor animal at the petting zoo. Steve pulls your shirt up where it’d already been rising and feels along your skin gently, slowly, not needing you to tell him where she is. He presses the meat of his thumb to your tummy and waits. The bump is sturdy but surprisingly soft, too. When Beth kicks, for a split second, he feels it like she’s right there in the room.
He immediately drops his head to kiss your skin. “Hello,” he says, rubbing your stomach appreciatively.
You put your index finger by his. “Hi, baby.”
“Let’s hope you’re the well behaved one.”
You draw a short line, back and forth. “I don’t care if she's not.”
“I have a funny feeling she will be.”
“It’s wishful thinking.”
Steve grins and sits up. “It’s definitely wishful thinking.” Beth gives another kick. He can see it. “That’s sort of queasy. Are you alright?”
“Doesn’t hurt.” You rub your bump. “She’s just saying hi.”
#kisses before dinner universe#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#dad!steve harrington#dad!steve harrington x reader#dad!steve harrington x mom!reader#steve harrington x afab!reader#afab!reader#mom!reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fluff
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Sweet Gestures That He Does » F1 Reaction
» Max Verstappen
Max is the perfect gentleman; he’s always doing the little things that so many others forget. If a door is there to be opened, he gets it for you, when the two of you are out walking, he never lets you walk on the side of the traffic, if you have something heavy to carry, he always takes it from your grasp. Although to him his actions don’t count for much, for you, they’re incredibly significant as he makes sure that you feel safe and protected in his company. What always amazes you though, is that he never fails to treat you as his priority.
» Lando Norris
It doesn’t matter the time or place, Lando loves to treat you as his passenger princess and take you from place to place. If you need picking up from work, he’s there, if it suddenly starts to rain, he’s there to give you a lift, he doesn’t care…even if you call at 2am. Lando adores chaperoning you around and letting everyone see you be driven around by him. When he pulls up, he presses the horn to let you know that he’s arrived, and secretly he loves being able to embarrass you a little, especially when you’re stood with your colleagues too.
» Carlos Sainz
Food is the way to your heart, and Carlos definitely makes the most of that. He loves to cook for you whenever he gets the time and make sure that you’re eating plenty of good food. If you’ve got an important meeting, there’s a healthy breakfast there waiting, if you’ve had a tough day, your favourite comfort food is on the side for when you get home, Carlos has all occasions covered. Sometimes, you feel bad that he cooks so much for you, but it’s a job that he adores, especially knowing that what he does always puts a smile on your face too.
» George Russell
Being around George often feels a bit like a dream, and without him even knowing it, being around him often makes you feel as if you’re on cloud nine. You always appreciate George’s ability to take you away from the stress of your day and relieve you of any problems, without even doing anything. The way he looks at you, and holds onto you, is enough for you to relax for a while and feel as if everything is alright in the world. Half the time George doesn’t even spot that he’s doing anything, but it always feels nice to know that he’s helping you feel better.
» Pierre Gasly
The little gifts Pierre buys you are always gratefully received by you, he constantly manages to find the perfect thing for you. If he’s in a shop and sees your favourite chocolate bar, he gets it, or if he sees a pretty bouquet of flowers, he buys them, just because. To Pierre, the gestures are nothing, that’s just what a boyfriend does, but to you, they’re everything as it shows you time and time again that you’re always on Pierre’s mind and that he always somehow ends up remembering all of your favourite things and bringing them home to you.
» Charles LeClerc
Very few people in the world get to touch Charles’ hair, but you are one of the select few who does. Charles is happy to let you play with his hair as he knows how happy it makes you, even if you do leave it in a mess. Most of all though, he likes to let you play with his hair when he knows that you’re having trouble falling asleep. It’s a small gesture, at least to Charles anyway, but to you it always means a lot that he lets you mess up his perfect hair just because it makes him happy to know that you’re finally resting.
» Lewis Hamilton
Since the day you met Lewis, you always knew that Roscoe was a huge part of his life, and so when he started cuddling up to you more than he did Roscoe, and let you lay beside him a little more, it meant a great deal to you. Roscoe still liked to receive a lot of Lewis’ attention, but most of the time you tended to slightly overshadow Roscoe in Lewis’ world as you got more comfortable with each other. You never wanted to forget about Roscoe, but it was secretly very satisfying to know that you had taken over the number one spot in Lewis’ life.
» Alex Albon
Sometimes it was just a simple hello, but you always appreciated how Alex would always send you texts whenever he was away from home. It was an incredibly small gesture, but when you were sometimes on the other side of the world, it was a huge relief for you just to get a simple message and know that Alex was alright. He loved to say good morning and good night, even if it was the middle of the day for you, giving you as many regular updates as he could as Alex knew just how reassuring each message was for you.
» Yuki Tsunoda
If there’s one thing that Yuki is good at, it’s his ability to make you laugh. What you love about Yuki is that he doesn’t care how silly he looks, as long as it cheers you up. It’s not a physical gesture, but Yuki is more than happy to clown around in order to put a smile on your face. Whether it’s a joke, doing a silly dance, or tickling you until you’re pleading with him to stop, as long as you’re laughing, Yuki will do absolutely whatever it takes in order to be the person that makes your heart skip a beat.
» Logan Sargeant
One of your favourite times was when Logan came home, most of the time because he never managed to forget you during his adventures. After each trip, Logan would return with something that he had bought you, the perfect thing that caught his eye when he was shopping in the city. Logan loved how you always kept hold of the things he bought and treasured their sentimental value. Even if it was only a small gesture for him, knowing that he searched every week (despite how busy he was) to find the something that you’d love meant a lot to you.
» Daniel Ricciardo
You never underestimated the importance of work for Daniel, however, it didn’t matter how busy he was, Daniel was still always making you the priority above all else. Even if it meant he was late, Daniel would still send you a text if you needed him, or call you late into the night, no matter how tired it would leave him the next day. You often reassured Daniel that you understood how hectic things were for him, but he never let that stop him prioritizing you, making sure that you always felt loved and never second best to him and his car.
» Oscar Piastri
You weren’t exactly the most social person in the world, social media wasn’t a skill of yours, but luckily for you, it was for Oscar. One of his favourite things to do was photograph you, catching you off guard, lost in the moment, and always managing to snap you when you looked your absolute best. Oscar left you inundated with photos that you could share online, but what you didn’t know, was how many of those photos Oscar also ended up keeping for himself, looking at them and reminding himself of all your great memories whenever he found himself missing you.
» Lance Stroll
The two of you were very unknown amongst the F1 fans, Lance understood that you didn’t exactly want to be in the limelight, but that didn’t stop him showing you that he always thinking of you. When the camera caught him, he would often wink down the lens, whilst people thought that was his way of impressing the fans, only the two of you were aware that that was his secret sign to you. He would always do something just to show you that he was thinking about you, even if you weren’t able to be there to support him in person.
» Esteban Ocon
If there was one thing that Esteban was good at, it was hyping you up, and understanding the interests that you had. The two of you didn’t exactly share similar hobbies, but that didn’t stop Esteban being interested in the things that you liked and joining in with them whenever he had some free time on his hands. He loved them because you loved them, even if sometimes he found himself bored doing your hobbies with you, he would never say anything to you because he knew how much you loved being able to do your favourite thing with your favourite person for company.
» Zhou Guanyu
It didn’t matter how tired he was, how busy he was, or sometimes how smelly he was too, Guanyu would still always be happy to give you the biggest hug in the world. You were a massive cuddler, and Guanyu was more than happy to oblige and give you what you wanted. All you had to do was look at Guanyu with a sheepish smile and he knew exactly what it was that you wanted. He didn’t care if he had to stop what was doing, nothing could top being able to be by your side and cuddling up to you anyway.
» Kevin Magnussen
It was quite a simple gesture, but you loved the different pet names that Kevin used for you. He had different terms of endearment for you depending on how you were feeling, he knew the name to use to cheer you up, or the name to use when he was in your bad books and was trying to make things right again. Even your closest friends often commented on how cute the two of you were together, and although they loved to tease you both about it, you knew deep down they wished they could be as sweet as you two.
» Nico Hulkenberg
The way that Nico treated you was something that many people noticed, everyone went above and beyond for their partner, but Nico especially somehow still seemed to exceed that which many of the other drivers were in awe of. Every day that was some sort of gesture that blew you away, whether it was a surprise date night, or flight tickets for you to be able to fly out to him wherever the grand prix was being held, Nico constantly looked for new ways to impress you and leave everyone else very jealous, wishing they had a boyfriend as amazing as him.
» Valtteri Bottas
If there was one thing that made you love Valtteri, it was the amount of time that he spent on you and making you happy. He made time for you wherever possible, and when you did have the time, Valtteri would be looking for something fun and memorable that you could do together. It didn’t have to be anything grand, even just a bike ride in the mountains was enough for you, but what you appreciated the most was the planning that Valtteri put into your dates together, making sure that they were absolutely perfect for you both to enjoy.
» Sergio Perez
Sergio always impressed you with his gestures, but the moments when you appreciated them the most were those times when your stress levels were at an all time high. He was incredibly observant and always knew when the right time was for him to step in, to stop you rambling and stop you from tipping yourself over the edge. He didn’t have to do much, all you really needed was to know that he was there for you, listening to him whisper into your ear to distract you and reassure you that you didn’t need to worry with him there with you.
» Fernando Alonso
One thing that you were always very appreciative of was how amazing a dad Fernando was. You knew better than most how tired he could get, especially after returning from a race, but that never stopped him stepping up to the plate and taking on every responsibility. As soon as something didn’t quite seem right, he would be up on his feet, assuring you not to worry. Even if you had more energy then him, when he was home it was your turn to relax as Fernando paid you back with sweet gestures for being both parents whenever he was away from home.
#f1#f1 imagine#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#lando norris#lando norris imagine#carlos sainz#carlos sainz imagine#george russell imagine#george russell#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton imagine#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#pierre gasly#pierre gasly imagine#alex albon#alex albon imagine#f1 reaction#formula 1 reaction#yuki tsunoda#yuki tsunoda imagine#logan sargeant#logan sargeant imagine#oscar piastri
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angel of sin - sunday
synopsis: dreams are unattainable imaginaries, fragments we’ll never get to experience and only ever see over and over as they replay in our minds like a broken record. they show us the things we’ve always longed to have and to sunday that has always been you. so is it wrong for him to provide you with a joyous life within the dreamscape, even if that means without him?
pairing: sunday x reader | wordcount: 1.6k | content & warnings: MIGHT BE KIND OF OOC BUT I HOPE THAT IT WAS A SOMEHOW OKAY TAKE ON HIS CHARACTERS 😭 SORRY IF NOT ILL WORK ON IT I PROMISE, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst if you squint, metaphors (mentions of like “cannibalism”?? not really sure how to describe it but yeah tw), established relationship (written as couple in mind - can also be read as platonic), sunday-centered, sundays hella whipped and down bad icl; ficlet
a/n: i needed to post something and yay this is one of my like 5 sunday drafts or something!! or else it’s feliover. also this was written at 4 am lol so i’ll make my proper proofreads and adjustments tmrw HAHAHA edit: i changed the title to "angel of sin", the name it was supposed to be i just kind of messed it up due to my sleepiness HAHAH but the names inspired by my beloved ggz angel of sin
“tell me. why do you think we dream?”
bittersweet words that carry a sense of melancholy have been sitting atop the tip of his tongue for an eternal amount of time. there have been many - endless occasions where he wanted to confess, but in all honesty he can’t remember; he can’t keep count of the many times he’s wanted to ask you.
every time he tried to voice the question out loud, the words in his throat died down - they went numb and to sunday it felt like he had lost the ability to speak, as if he had lost his speech - his voice.
without the ability to talk, with no voice to say his thoughts out aloud, how was he supposed to express himself? with no words to leave his mouth he wasn’t able to soothe peoples worries - even if in sundays eyes he deemed those actions as unjust - inhumane.
not having the right words and owning no voice to say them would mean that sunday wasn’t able to tell and share his ideals - the ideology, his way to make humanity happy. a world where the weak don’t have to take risks and aren’t endangered, a society that deserves to indulge in happiness even when he isn’t able to experience it.
but most importantly, if sunday lost his speech, the trait to speak - the ability to voice his thoughts out loud, he wouldn’t be able to ask questions - questions asked by him to none other than you - questions which only you could provide him a satisfying answer that’d make him content and slightly put him at ease.
the poignant words that unwieldy fall from his mouth, they nip into the air like a newborn bird that has only now learned how to fly and continues to struggle, nevertheless it’s able to leave its nest and tries its best to continue no matter the amount of failure, afterall it has been caged inside its nest for a far too long time to not escape, right?
his words have been swallowed one too many times, they slid into his gut and stirred uneasiness, so, at some point there needs to be a right and somewhat ideal time for him to ask his question which yearns for an answer - your answer.
elsewise sunday doesn’t know if he can live with this feeling, the monster that lurks inside his mind any longer. it’s unbearable and he longs for you to open your mouth and answer him in the honeyed voice he seeks after.
he pleads for you to speak your mind before the monster continues to nibble at his flesh, shredding the layers of his porcelain like skin apart, tearing feather after feather from his seraphic wings, ripping his tongue stained in lies out and finally consumes him in whole - freeing him from his sins.
“why we fall asleep and thus dream, you ask?” your eyes shine bright as you look up at the circled orb - the silver moon that illuminates the dark sky - nights cloak that shields the two of you away from any outstanders.
the sky, which is encased in dark colors, except for the few stars and the moon that continuously shine, make it hard to see. but to sunday he can only see one thing - you.
there’s no need for you to look at him to know that he’s anxious, that the hand you hold on so tenderly is tingling in fear as he tries to maintain a steady breath while awaiting your answer.
you’re aware that sunday tries his hardest to compose himself and tries to not grab your hand too roughly out of fear of hurting you, eventually leaving harsh scars that’ll stain your sacred skin.
sunday would paint your skin in kisses, every spot that he’s tarnished in wounds would be sealed with a peck until it heals and begins to bloom once again. to sunday there’s no disgrace when it comes to you, no shame or humiliation.
to sunday you’re simply a blessing - a blessing which he can only repeat a “thank you” for over and over again, until it eventually stings on his tongue and rather sounds like a curse he chants repeatedly.
he’d get on his hands, making the palms of his hand meet the rough floor, dirtying his sacred skin with mud. the pebbles that are distributed on the floor come in all shapes and forms along with the glass shards and sticks, they dig through his palms, making them bleed, tainting his fair skin.
he’d get on his knees, even if that means wrinkling his clothes and ruining the neatly ironed fabric as they get covered in dust while he gets on one knee to tie your shoelace properly or lovingly massage your calf. sunday would get on both knees if you’ve asked - without hesitation.
because when it comes to you, sunday, head of the oak family, knows no thing such as “shame.”
the fingers that run along the back of his hand, tracing around in a circle like motion are comforting, he can’t help but ask himself if they’d continue to hold him even when he were to fall into a deep pit, an ocean of unresolved emotions, questions that constantly plague his mind, internal conflicts - inner self hatred.
If you were to see all of this - if you were to see how this all plays out and sunday eventually drowning in that void, would you continue to hold him even when decides that it’s the right thing for him to disappear into the waters? even if that meant that you’d drown with him and never be able to return to the shore?
you don’t deserve that, you deserve to live a happy life and indulge in all the things you’ve always wished for.
to sunday there has only ever been one wish he wanted to fulfill ever since he was young - a purpose he must accomplish: to make the people of penacony happy, especially robin and you, even if that meant being trapped in the dreamscape for an eternity.
due to his “minute”, personal, eternal sacrifice, he’ll never get to see that dream, he’ll be trapped somewhere else. perhaps he’ll rush to the end of this ignorant world, like a coyote mindlessly running around like a madman, searching for its prey.
he’ll run to a place where he can be at peace because where else is he supposed to be if not in your grasp? after all, what other place does he belong to?
“some people are simply too unhappy with their current life. so, they turn to dreams to indulge and live a carefree life that isn’t theirs. they’re able to enjoy a life with no seemingly worries, i suppose dreams show us the life we could have.” you click your tongue as you express your opinion.
“why only could?” sunday asks curiously, his wings slightly flutter at your response.
“sunday, tell me. do you really think it’s good to live a life that isn’t yours? a life you’ll never get to experience outside of your dream?” he can make out a certain frustration in your voice, as if you’ve thought about this many times, as if you’ve had this conversation many times already.
but with whom?
“so, why not stay in the dreamscape forever then?” he offers, it’s a light implication of what he plans. but it doesn’t come over as a warm welcoming invite - rather it sounds like a demand.
“its alluring, isn’t it?” you chuckle and sunday can only listen as you open your mouth again. “i’ve thought about it many times too, but i realized if i were to do that, i’d always be trapped in this cage with no way to escape. i don’t think i’d ever be happy, not having my liberty nor freedom to do as i please.” you mumble. “and would i even have you by my side? or are you busy then? gone from my grasp - gone from me?” you whisper reluctantly under your breath, obvious uncertainty lacing your words.
perhaps this is the moment in which sunday realizes that he had forgotten his initial dream, to make you out of all people in penacony happy. it’s selfish to abandon his former plans and adjust them just because of you.
but making you happy is somewhat connected to making the people of penacony happy, right?
also he has never mistrusted your judgment, your words were the only ones that put him at ease, the only words that actually understood him and his motives.
even though he’s bound to that dream, he’ll shed tears for you, he’ll get on both his hands and knees if it means to see you happy.
his heart has committed unforgivable sins. but to sunday it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter as long as it’s you. he’ll humiliate himself, turn himself into a criminal, go against his ideal - there’s no disgrace as long as it’s for you.
sunday is fully devoted to you.
his heart won’t stop beating, it’s pumping loudly in his chest as his wings continue to flutter. his soft feathers fall like tears, sliding down like droplets onto the ground. his wings are no more than shackles chaining him back from flying, from roaming the sky and exploring its very first and very last corner. they chains keep him bound to the floor, a place where he’ll never experience freedom to its fullest.
you’re his blessing - you’re more than enough and if it’s for you, he’ll fulfill your needs and wishes even if it means to go past his (former) ideals and ideologies. everything that you provide him with feels unreal, it feels too good to be true, almost dream-like.
a dream which he wishes he’ll never wake up from.
but he knows he’ll eventually have to but he also knows that you’ll also be there and not just in his imagination.
"ew omg who are they going to tag again, pls dont tell me its that kokomi person" (said no one ever) but YEAH indeed hello @azullumi while for me it's 4:30 am rn its 10:30 am for you!!! great innit (im not british) innit always reminds me of tommyinnit, tommyinnit reminds me of the jump in the cadillac, and that reminds me of bruno mars, bruno mars reminds me of good music, good music reminds me of tiktok and how it removed all the good music, AND TIKTOK ALSO REMINDS ME OF THE FACT THAT U TAKE 1 TO 2 BUSINESS DAYS TO RESPOND TO ANSER MT TIKTOKS AND ODNT YOU DARE BLAME IT ON THE WIFI NOW btw omg yeah guys im acc not a sunday hater lolll (th enote on my othe rnote said otherwise but i had to convince xue somehow okay..) i've acc liked him for a while - acc when he first appared in the story and i remember my friend not liking him and only liking robin loll while i was js gushing abt how cool and handsome he was HAGAG ANYWAY ENOUGHT ALKING ABT THE BUSH SORRY AZTUL ILL COME BACK TO YOU. im gkad to know that you recovered fropm your ilness!! and hope you'll enjoy the rest of your trip and write the aventurine angst (IM WAITING..) and also maybe i say it too rarely maybe i dont who knows idc but i love you a lotlotlototltotot, ill continue this shoutout in dms tho cause it'll get a bit more private (NOT PRIVATE AS IN INTIMATZE OR SHIT OKAY???)
e/n: you can tell i got lazy at the end. it was so sloppy and like so rushed im sorry :( like tbh im not content with the way it turned out at all at the ending but yeah idk
© DR-FELITAS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.
#felis-files#—stellaronhvnters.#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr fluff#honkai star rail fluff#sunday x reader#sunday fluff#hsr imagines#honkai star rail imagines#sunday headcanons#sunday imagines#sunday hsr#hsr headcanons#hsr x you
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Hiii i have a request, could u write about ex ellie still totally in love with u, she comes to your house to pick her things up, you guys end up fucking and start to date again?
(Emoji just to identify it was me 🌸)
Sweet Girl.
an: had to contribute to the sub! Ellie shortage..srry if shes pretty pathetic../wc: 1.09k
“We both need to move on.”
Ellie lets out a frustrated huff at your blunt response, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I don’t want to move on from you. I don’t want anyone else. I want you.” She sighs again, feeling so hopelessly vulnerable like this. But she knows they’re already past the point of holding back.
“But you—“
“Please..” Ellie looks up from where she’s kneeled at your bedpost, her gaze hungry and desperately possessive. She doesn’t want to have to think about anything else right now. She just wants to be this, tangled up in bed with you. “Please..”
“Ugh, ‘els.” You sigh annoyed and obviously irritated with the time of night she’s decided to come bother you.
2:22 AM
Ellie lets out a short whine at the nickname, her body already responding to your exasperation. She leans down and buries her face in your lap, pressing as much of herself against you as possible. “I want you so bad,” she whispers pathetically like you didn’t hear her the last 200 times.
“You know what? Fine, but you’re gonna get the fuck up out of my house after this.” You press, pulling her from the wooden floorboard and onto your bed, “and you’re going to listen to everything I say.”
“I-i always do—“
“Answer.”
Ellie shudders at the menacing tone of your voice, “Everything,” she whispers, her hands running over your body. “ ‘i’ll do everything you want..just, shit, touch me...”
You hum at the soft pleading, massaging her scalp lightly with your fingertips, an attempt to ease her into a state of relaxation; Ellie’s eyes feel heavy as she slumps into you, you’re so pretty..
“ What happened to getting your stuff?”
Ellie groans, letting out a petulant huff when you catch onto her excuse to come over. “I’ll grab my stuff later,” she mutters, lifting her head to look at you with a pleading look in her eyes. “Why won’t you touch me..”
You scoff, taking your hands away from her scalp and pushing her away, “Impatient girls don’t get jack.”
Ellie's eyes widen as you push her away, her breath suddenly hitching in her throat. "W-what?" her voice comes out as a strangled whisper.
She feels utterly humiliated, her heart clenching hard in her chest. "Is this some kind of punishment for what I did? Making me want you this bad, and then turning me away?" She feels foolish and humiliated, tears pricking at her eyes.
“Say you’re sorr—
"I'm sorry," Ellie chokes out before you can even complete the order. The words feel foreign in her mouth, but her heart tightens as she forces them out. "I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm sorry for being so impatient. I'm sorry for..." Her voice breaks, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looks up at you, her eyes pleading. "I'm sorry for everything. Please, baby. Let me stay. Let me make it up to you."
She hesitates a moment before she clambers forward to sit on your lap again, her body pressing flush against yours.
you sigh in content, “Such a good girl you are, Ellie.” cupping her cheeks, you tilt her head backwards to slightly face you, “Pick where you want me to touch first.”
A shiver runs down Ellie’s spine at the question, but she doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “Lips,” she whispers. She wants to taste your mouth again, feels like she’s starving for it. “Kiss me,” her voice coming out needy and desperate.
Ellie moans hungrily into the kiss once you give in, her hand coming down to your side to your arm, holding you close as she kisses back. Her tongue pushes past your soft lips, tasting herself as she lets all her pent up desperation and longing bleed out and into the kiss.
“Missed you so much,” she babbles, “Nothing has felt the same without you. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t think. I just need you. I need you so bad..” her back arching involuntarily as your lips start trailing down her neck
You nod against her skin, nose brushing up on her nape where your perky tits were to her toned back, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby. Hm? ‘dunno if you’re gonna wanna leave after this actually..”
Ellie feels dumbed out from how your smooth hands slowly slither into the waistband of her sweatpants, slipping them off; she also, can’t help the slight smile that grazes her face in the realization of what is just about to occur between the two exes.
loveyouloveyouloveyou
“Gotta let me know what to do, sweet girl. Ungh...you’re so wet..” you preen when the pads of your fingers meet contact with the pleasurable mess Ellie’s made underneath the layering
Your compliments don’t help as much when you begin to rub her puffy mound, constricting hold feeling like sweet death to Ellie in addition to the sticky boxers she still had on.
shittttttt….
After some while, you kiss behind her ear right on a pressure point
“You still with me?” You murmur, knowing how little she can get off on if you tick her just the right way. she’s always been ultrasensitive, “Gonna give me a big one?..” your fingers don’t let up on the assault, occasionally rolling her clit in between your digits all the while,
She lets a small squeak out before leaning an arm back over her shoulder to hold your neck, almost in an attempt to press you closer to her like you both had space inbetween— you didn’t, “Uhn..uhn—! I’m g-gonna cum..” She whimpers,
You kiss the crown of her head before grinding the heel for your palm further onto her, “juust like that, like how I taught you..” She eventually does orgasm, repeating your name like a prayer while you talk her through it,
Ellie is breathless and boneless, her body utterly spent and sated from the intensity of the moment. She lets out long, shaky exhale as she blinks her eyes open, taking in the sight of you in front of her, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “That was…” she begins, her voice coming out a breathy whisper, but the words to describe it don’t come.
“Still gonna leave?” You ask, licking your digits
Ellie almost laughs at the question, still spent from the high she feels. “God, no,” she whispers. She lifts a trembling hand to your face, her fingers dancing over your soft skin. “After that? I’m never letting you kick me out again.” She presses a chaste kiss against your collarbone.
#ellie williams x f!reader#Ellie williams#Ellie williams smut#lesbian#ellie williams fanfic#the last of us 2#tlou2#sapphic
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take care
pairing: jason todd x gn!reader
summary: when you have a bad day at work, jason knows just the way to help you unwind.
tags: smut (18+), dom!jason todd, sub!reader, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, massages
wc: 2.1k
No matter what you try to tell yourself, you can’t stop crying. Ever since you woke up this morning, it feels like life has been throwing you the worst possible things to deal with– people being casually rude to you, your boss expecting unreasonable amounts of work done. After finally falling into bed, you completely lose it, sobbing so hard your body starts shivering.
Jason won’t be back for another couple of hours at least, and usually that’s enough time for you to unwind from work, but today you can’t stomach the thought of doing anything. Instead, you slip into sleep while the tears are still fresh on your face.
There’s a warm pat on your shoulder, and for a second, the bliss of sleep follows you from your nap into reality. But all too soon, you remember the day you’ve had and the tenseness from earlier sinks back into you.
“Hey,” Jason whispers, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “You alright?”
“Yeah– I’m,” You shake your head, stumbling across the half of the blanket that’s made it on the floor as you walk to the bathroom. “I’m just really tired. I’m going to shower, I forgot to earlier.”
You catch Jason’s concerned look from the corner of your eye, but you try not to stress about how you’re worrying him. As soon as the door closes behind you, you grip the bathroom counter and look at your reflection.
You’re so exhausted you look sick, but you don’t want to bother Jason with your own worries right now. When he’s not on patrol, he’s always researching more ways he can stop crime and minimize conflict. Really, he doesn’t have a ton of time of his own to relax, so you really shouldn’t burden him with your feelings.
After a half-hearted shower, you toss on a T-shirt and shorts before walking towards the living room. Jason’s lounging on the couch, and he waves you over to watch a movie– Pride & Prejudice 2005.
“Oh? What’s the occasion?” You say, trying for cheerful.
“Just thought we could use something familiar,” He says, placing a blanket on top of you before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
“I’m still going to need you to explain half of what’s going on, I can’t keep up with all the characters.”
“That’s why we’re watching it,” He kisses your cheek. “I just tricked you into listening to me ramble about my favorite book.”
You giggle, and for a second you almost feel light enough to enjoy the moment. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re forgetting something, though, and when it hits you, you nearly kick the blanket off of you.
“Shit! I didn’t make anything for dinner!”
“Hey, hey,” Jason moves his hand to rub the back of your neck. “It’s okay, I got something going in the oven.”
You settle back into your place on the couch, but you feel terrible. It was your turn to make dinner today since you got off your shift first. You can’t believe you let yourself fall asleep instead! Jason doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, he just cuddles into your side further as you both watch the camera pan around Elizabeth Bennett.
Suddenly, it hits you. You know how to make up for worrying him and forgetting about dinner. At first, you subtly try and bring your hand under the blanket, feeling around until you find his thigh. When you make contact, Jason gives you a look, trying to gauge whether or not it was intentional. You give him a cheeky smile as you continue.
Jason settles into the couch, just laying back and allowing you to do what you want, still figuring out why you’re suddenly in the mood. You run your nails against the inside of his thigh, lightly at first before digging in just a little, knowing he likes it a little rough.
You finally palm him through his shorts and he lets out a small gasp. His shoulders seem to fall back and you swear you can see some of the tension Jason always carries around leaving him. Carefully, you wrap your hand around his cock, and you lazily stroke him through the fabric as he exhales through his nose. You’re about to crawl under the blanket to take off his shorts when Jason grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you up to face him.
“Alright, that’s enough of that.”
“Huh? Don’t you want me to,” you gesture to his lap instead of letting your words trip you up. “I mean, I just started now, so I should really–”
“What are you talking about?” Jason shakes his head, his fluffy hair shifts with him.
“Look, I–” You massage your forehead, trying to work through some of your anxiety. “I was going to do something for you, Jason, so just let me–”
Jason slides his hand from your shoulder across your arm until he’s supporting your hand, bringing it in so he can kiss your knuckles.
“You’re always doing stuff for me,” He whispers. “Let me return the favor.”
The speed at which you break eye contact and begin fiddling with the blanket speaks volumes to Jason. You gulp as he lowers your hand, careful not to overstep. You know that if you say the word, the two of you can stop and go back to watching the movie in front of you. But still, no matter how much residual stress keeps bothering you, you want to know what Jason has in mind for you.
“Yes,” you say.
“What?” Jason leans in, not having heard you the first time.
“Yeah–” you try to fight against your own embarrassment at accepting the invitation. “I’d like you to… take care of me.”
For a moment, the two of you sit in silence before Jason bursts into giggles. You have the sense to feel offended, but he quickly wraps his arms around you and rests his head on your shoulder.
“God, lighten up, will you? You sound so serious, it’s not that big a deal.”
Immediately you fail at keeping a straight face, and although you really don’t want to give him the win, you end up letting out a snort.
“Alright, come on,” He taps your back. “Lay on your stomach.”
“What’re you doing?” You ask, even though you’re already maneuvering into position, tossing the blanket off the couch in the process.
“Just trust me, okay? Relax, I’ve got you.”
Jason’s hands are warm when they reach your back. You take in a small inhale, not quite sure what you were expecting. He moves his hands softly at first, just stroking the skin of your back and shoulders to get you accustomed to the feeling. As soon as you start getting comfortable, he starts applying the slightest bit of pressure, kneading at your shoulder muscles.
A sound escapes you that you’re not proud of, and though you’re certain Jason is smirking, you refuse to turn around and see it. Sighing into the couch cushions, you close your eyes and let yourself fade into the feeling. Jason moves downward, massaging your back in slow motions, carefully running his knuckle down the small of your back. It’s incredible, more than, but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.
“You can press harder, you know.”
He huffs, “See, I was thinking that, but if I hurt you right now I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself.”
Jason has a talent for saying things like that, things that make you melt no matter what’s running through your head. To his credit, he tries, kneading out all the knots across your back, but still with lighter pressure than you would’ve given to yourself.
“Is that alright?” He asks. “You want me to keep going?”
You hum, already starting to sink into the feeling. Jason continues, hands roaming all across your back. Your eyes start to close and you can feel yourself slipping into sleep before a hand starts to move down your body, gently feeling up your ass.
“Okay?” Jason says.
“Okay–” and as soon as you respond, he kneads the sore muscles in your upper thighs and ass, and although it causes a part of you to completely melt into the cushions, a part of you feels like you’ve just had a fire lit within you.
“Jason,” you start. “If you keep going, I might… uh–”
“No, you can say it,” he whispers as he leans in, covering your body with his own so you can feel his breath across your cheek. “Tell me what I do to you.”
“Shit–” you bury your head into the couch, but Jason carefully sets hand on your head and helps you make eye contact with him.
“Talk to me,” his voice drops low. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”
He places a hand on top of one of yours resting in front of you. You flip your hand over and interlock your fingers with his. A barely audible exhale escapes from Jason as he gives your hand a squeeze.
“I want you to finger me.”
He’s smirking as he kisses your cheek, his lips trailing lower to your jawline before you even have time to register his movements. It’s like a switch has flipped in him, like he’s finally allowing himself to let loose for your sake. Like all he ever wants is to make you feel good if only you’ll allow him to.
The hand not holding yours moves from your ass to your inner thigh, softly rubbing circles only centimeters away from your slit. He catches you closing your eyes again, getting lost in the comfort around you and he gives your upper thigh a pinch.
You give a small shout, and Jason uses the opening to slot two fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t even need to give the command, you’re already sucking him on instinct. Always efficient, Jason unclasps your hands to reach for the lube in the side table drawer while you’re distracted. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a pop.
“Are you ready, baby?”
“Because I can keep going if you’re not ready–” he pretends, as if he didn’t have a perfect view of your signal.
You nod, but your head is still mostly shoved against the surface of the couch.
“Jason! Fucking go!”
He snickers as lubes his fingers before gently working one in. How typical, even when he’s being nice, he still can’t help but be a tease. His pace is slow but thorough, working himself all the way into your heat before sliding out, only to rush back whenever you seem to get used to the sensation.
Already being relaxed from the massage must be getting to you, because as soon as you stretch to accommodate his second finger, your breathing starts to quicken. He speeds up slightly, moving to kiss the spot between your jaw and neck, nibbling a small mark despite knowing it’s in the perfect spot to be seen.
He finally starts hitting the spot inside of you where he’s needed, and you almost yelp in relief.
“Faster,” you sigh, and gratefully, Jason listens. He quickens his pace, hitting inside of you with accuracy, and leaning on top of you now to better the angle. You can feel the planes of his chest against your back, and the warmth radiating off of him causes your face to heat up.
“Ah–” you start, and Jason is able to get it out before you can.
“You’re close?”
This time when you nod your head, he accepts your answer and continues the same speed and intensity. He uses his other hand to grip you by the shoulder and force your head up so he can hear your gasps. Jason moves his head close to your ear again, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he whispers, “Come for me.”
You groan, naturally wanting to bury your cries into the cushions, but Jason’s grip stops you. The casual show of his strength has you thrusting back towards his fingers, and he dutifully works you through your orgasm until you’re finished.
He flips you so you don’t end up falling asleep with your airflow cut off, and under his observant gaze you finally stop trying to cover yourself up. You flash your teeth, and Jason rubs the curve of your cheek with his thumb before slipping off the couch to get a towel to clean up.
#dc comics#gn reader#smut#dc smut#dc#jason todd x gn!reader#jason todd smut#jason todd x you#jason todd#dom!jason todd#sub reader#red hood#red hood x gn!reader#red hood x reader#red hood smut#jason todd x reader
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https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/746437065634463744/i-think-bc-peter-is-so-much-more-affectionate-with
she is such a princess
i can picture her talking to some friends and she’s like ‘you mean… your boyfriend doesn’t worship your every step?’ ‘give you a hundred kisses for simply breathing?????????’
and she’s gobsmacked like she goes to tell peter and he’s just so smug like yes…….. i spoiled u JDJDJDJS
*the people's princess!!! cleaning out my inbox!*
'you know sadie?' a gentle hum pulls from peter's throat, he focuses on you while he chews on a random bag of fruit snacks. 'her boyfriend is a total loser, you should hear some of the things she tells me. and it's all super casual too! like it's normal for your boyfriend to hate you!'
'her boyfriend hates her?' you take a gummy and nod. 'he calls her a bitch anytime she does something he doesn't like, he always has something to say when she eats anything, and he called her a slut for answering a text from her boss, who's a woman by the way!'
peter wants to throw this piece of shit around so he can see what it feels like. 'so then i told her about some of the things you do for me and she rolled her eyes and said i was 'high maintenance,' like it's unachievable to have a boyfriend who treats you like he loves you.'
you take another fruit snack, he always saves you the reds. 'and another one, penny? she's the one dating the reporter guy?' peter makes a weak connection, he's heard the name before.
'remember when you brought those flowers to me last week when we were all hanging out? not you, but me, penny, sadie and mason?' peter nods and shifts you on his lap, you sink in even further.
'so she asked me if we got in a fight or if i was mad at you for something and i told her no, you always buy me flowers just because. so, penny tells me ahmed only ever gets her flowers when he's trying to make up for something and sadie told me you're probably cheating on me.'
peter feels his mouth open a little, 'what? how the hell did she-' you stop him, 'mason called her an idiot and told her to stop projecting.' you give his cheek three kisses in a row.
'so, thank you for loving me and being kind and patient and just a total sweetheart because i had no idea how bad it could be out there.' peter had set a standard he didn't know existed, no matter what, he'd be the better boyfriend.
'thank yourself, cherry. you're easy to love... and spoil.'
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