#little thing in and what he says is just so sweet and i really love how he emphasis that mobius is loki's first friend basically every time
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Rich Part 21
Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. The truth is revealed and extenuating circumstances lead to y/n spilling the beans about her and Harry.
Warning: HELLA SMUT!! Daddy!kink, oral (f receiving), dirty talk (degradation and praise ofc), spanking, spitting kink, creampie, mentions of death (specifically a child) and grieving, poor mental health.
Word count: 17k+
Author's note: I recommend reading Part 20 before this one as it's a direct continuation! Part 22 already has 7k words written so I PROMISE you won't have to wait a month to read more of my babies. Enjoy 😚😚
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“Please… Daddy.”
“Good girl.”
His mouth slotted with yours like the final puzzle piece. Smooth and effortless, melting into you while his hand moved from your neck to grab onto your hair. He was simultaneously protecting your head from the door and tugging right at the root of your pretty hair.
The sting had you whimpering into his mouth, hands through his hair and over his chest and just everywhere while you reached up on your tippy toes to kiss back harder. You quite liked feeling smaller than him and Harry loved being bigger than you. Taller than you. Pressing his full body weight into you until all you could feel was him.
“I don’t… I don’t have much time.” You murmured into his mouth, gasping as the kiss broke and he let his mouth skirt over your jaw. You always did have a sensitive neck. It was a sweet spot for you and Harry knew that. At this point he had memorised all your erogenous zones and the little things he did that turned you on and considered himself an expert in how to take advantage of it.
He was always learning new things about you. Every day he found new details about you and fell deeper in love because of it.
“You do.” His smirk curled against your jaw and focused one hand on your hair to tug your head back while the other squeezed over your waist.
“I really don’t. My parents will see my car and wonder where I am. They’d be offended I saw you before them.”
“I think they’d be a little more than offended if they knew what you were doing here. Wouldn’t they, darling?”
Your gasp got caught in your throat, muffled by a moan when he bared his teeth against your neck. His mouth cushioned lower, tracing over what felt like every single inch of your bare skin.
“Probably.” You just hummed in response, letting your eyes flutter closed while you relaxed into the feeling of his soft, wet tongue over your neck.
“What would they say if they knew you called me Daddy, hm? Bet your mother would faint, wouldn’t she? Her darling little y/n.” Harry pulled away so you could watch the way his lips wrapped around each syllable. He pressed his hand over your throat again, keeping you pinned there as he undid the bow of your sweatpants. “Come on, baby. Tell me what she’d say.”
You didn’t think he’d want a response to that when it sounded so rhetorical. More like a tease than something he wanted you to respond back to.
“I don’t know. I don’t even want to-” the words got stuck in your throat when you felt his nimble fingers slide along the waistband of your sweatpants. He smirked at your reaction, scanning every inch of your face while languidly stroking your lower belly. “-to think about it. It's mortifying.”
His eye contact was making you want to pass the fuck out and when his fingers found the band of your underwear you nearly did. You had missed this. The cat and mouse game. The teasing. Though it usually took a lot longer than the time you had.
“It’s not mortifying when you’re doing it, though. Is it, baby?” He cocked his head, maintaining eye contact as he started to trace over your underwear down towards your clit. You shook your head quickly, grabbing onto his forearms.
“Words.” He warned.
“No. No it isn’t.”
“Feels quite… good. Doesn’t it?” He pressed right over your clit, rubbing purposed circles. The friction of your underwear was driving you crazy. But you wanted more and you were a little conscious of the time.
“You know it does.”
“I know.” He smirked, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I make you feel good. Don’t I?”
The questions were making your head spin. “Yes… yes.”
The friction suddenly disappeared from your clit, but just as you were about to make a noise of disdain, his hands were hoisting your legs up around his waist and he was carrying you through the house to his dining room. He set you down on the edge of the table, reaching in to kiss you deeply just long enough to have you gasping and tugging at his hair.
The kiss broke and his mouth trailed down your neck again. You made a pretty little whimpering sound that had Harry smirking against your skin while he worked on removing your pants properly.
“I love when you do that…” he groaned, nimble fingers sliding along the waistband of your sweats, tucking into them and your underwear at the same time before very easily pulling them down under your ass until they fell to your ankles. The cool air hit your clit instantly, sending a chill down your spine and the tension of your legs that only increased when Harry continued to talk dirty to you. “When you whimper all pretty for me… ‘s my favourite thing in the world. Never takes long either. Could just kiss you and you’d moan for me. Isn’t that right?”
His question hung heavy in the hair but all you could focus on was the sight of him dropping to his knees before you to help guide your feet out of the bottom half of your clothing.
“Uhuh.” You agreed haphazardly, sweeping your hand through his hair at the first touch of his lips against your knee. He kissed down your calf until that ankle was out of your pants then switched sides to do the other, this time kissing up from your ankle to your knee to the sensitive skin of your thigh.
“Why don’t I give you something proper to moan about, hm? Would you like that, pretty girl?” Harry let his lips brush against your skin while his hands ran up and down your legs, running his thumbs over your knees like he was about to pry your legs open and dive right in.
Every touch had you breathing heavier, already getting worked up just from a few little kisses. It didn’t help that you were already on edge from his earlier teasing and knowing that things would get a little rougher than usual only made you needier.
Sex always was a bit rougher when ‘daddy’ came into play. Harry took on the role in full force and took full control of the scene. He usually spanked you more, grabbed you more, fucked you harder. Fuck… you hoped he’d spit in your mouth too, maybe smack his ringed fingers over your clit. You could ask for it of course and he’d happily oblige (with a bit of teasing and degradation to accompany your request of course), but it was so much hotter when he just did it. When he owned you and treated you like a hole to use.
“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, tugging his hair a little harder. He smirked and nipped at your thigh, grabbing your calves to pull you forward until your legs widened to fit him between them. Grabbing your face suddenly, he squeezed your cheeks roughly until you whined in pain.
“Where are your manners, huh? I thought I taught you better than that.” He tutted, maintaining eye contact while he spit suddenly on the fingers on his other hand before reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Harry didn’t want to stop looking at your pretty eyes for a single second. The moment he found your clit he tapped against it roughly, making your back arch at the repeated sting of his fingers. His saliva only made it hurt more and yet you found yourself loving every second of it.
“Shit.” You cursed, clutching onto his shoulders. The sting had your toes curling, knees dug into either side of his hips in an attempt to curb the ache. “Shit.”
“If you’re a good girl, y/n, you’ll get treated nicely. Don’t you know what happens if you’re not, hm?” He smirked, pressing his palm to your clit while sliding two fingers down through your labia. You were soaked, already dripping for him to do something. Anything. He circled his fingers over your entrance, pressing just enough to make that delicious whimper echo around his kitchen before he dragged them back up to your clit. “Or has it been that long since I put your attitude in check?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Harry repeated the same movements, torturously dragging up and down… up and down from your clit to your entrance without doing anything remotely close to satisfying.
“‘M sorry. I’m sorry Daddy. I got… fuck” you cursed when he nudged over your clit again. It was just a game now, a sadistic little game to see how wet he could get you without actually giving much pleasure. “Excited.”
“Excited? Or selfish?” He cocked his head, grinding his palm to your clit while squeezing your face a little harder. “Being needy doesn’t give you an excuse to be ill mannered.”
“You’re right. I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. I promise.” The words came out as a hushed whimper of strung together desperation. Harry was loving every second of it.
“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?”
“Yes. Please, Daddy.”
“Gonna let me do anything I want?”
“Anything. Anything.”
His cock stirred at the thought of being able to do anything to you. To have complete control over you. Of course, you truly had the power in the situation, but he loved that you chose to let him take the reigns.
“Open your mouth.”
Harry slid his hand down to your jaw to give you space to move your mouth and as soon as you did, your lips parted just wide enough for him to spit right on your tongue. The sight was obscene. Your tongue sticking out to catch his saliva, his mark, his ownership. Your eyes were all glazed and pretty and you looked happy to take whatever he gave you. You were happy.
He just couldn’t help himself, really. Couldn’t stop himself from getting a taste of your pretty mouth. It would’ve felt wrong not. You were his girl after all. His love. Kissing you was part of the job.
Harry was quick to dart out and clasp his lips with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth so he could rub his saliva over your tongue with his own. It was feral. Sloppy in the best way possible. He slid his tongue against yours, spreading his spit and the new saliva from your kiss everywhere.
You loved when he kissed you sloppy. When it was way too inappropriate for outside eyes. Something just for you. While his tongue told you exactly how he felt about you, he grabbed onto your hips and pulled you forward until you slid off the table, landing on your unsteady feet.
“Take this off, yeah? Let me see how pretty you are.” He murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to speak while tugging upwards at the end of your t shirt.
You quickly obeyed and ripped your t shirt off, letting it land on the floor without care. You didn’t bother putting a bra on when you left Lucy’s, not when you were just going home and seeing Harry quickly - or at least you thought it would be quick - so you were left bare. Now you were grateful that you decided to do that, especially from the dark-eyed reaction you gained from your bare breasts being exposed to your lover.
“Fuck baby. Got the prettiest tits ever.” Harry cursed, palming over your exposed breasts while he connected your mouths again.
Your hands found home in his hair, reciprocating happily to his enthusiastic kissing. It was such a power imbalance being completely naked while he was still fully clothed. The anxious part of you hated it and felt so… small. Exposed. The bigger part of you, the one that got off on being submissive and degraded frothed over it. There was no feeling like his fully clothed body against your fully bare one, other than skin to skin contact of course.
That was your favourite.
“Driving me fucking crazy like this.” Harry murmured again, keeping one hand on your breast while the other trailed upwards to the little pearl necklace permanently fixtured on your neck. You only took it off to shower, otherwise it never left your body. You couldn’t bare to part from it because it was a constant reminder of Harry. Like he was always with you.
And you happened to love how possessive he became when his eyes landed on the little string of pearls. How they darkened ever so slightly. When you were in public it turned into a kiss or his hand squeezing your hand or waist, like it triggered some obsessive reaction. You weren’t sure if he caught onto the fact that the necklace somehow pavloved physical touch, but you did.
Sometimes you liked to draw attention to it on purpose to tease him, not that he knew he was being teased. When you were talking you might brush your hair away from your neck or fiddle with the pearls to draw his eyes there. It was fun. A game you were winning even if he didn’t know he was participating.
“And this…” He hooked his finger into the necklace, tugging it gently while simultaneously tugging at your bottom lip, releasing it with a pop. “You’ve got no idea how sexy you look with nothing on but this.”
“I never take it off…” You sighed.
“I know. I love you more for it.” He mused, nipping on your neck. “If that’s even possible.” Your head lulled back when he ran his hands down over your body again, landing on your hips where he quickly spun you around to face the table and pressed himself against you. “Love how soft you are too…” He complimented, pressing spongey kisses along your shoulder.
You braced yourself against the table, letting yourself be pushed down flat against it by a gentle hand on the middle of your back.
“How you feel in my hands… my mouth…”
His mouth replaced his hand, trailing down until he was crouched behind you. God the sight of you was driving him crazy.
Running his hands over your ass, he pressed a kiss to one of your cheeks, dragging his bottom lip against your skin as he released before kissing over to your other cheek. Then he spread you wide, eliciting a gasp when he spanked you and groaned at the way your skin rippled then spread you open again.
“My tongue…”
And then you felt it. His hot tongue met your clit, swiping through your labia right to your tight ring of muscles where he decided to focus his attention. Harry was aware you two didn’t have all the time in the world, but he just couldn’t compromise on his favourite thing. Tasting you.
Your flavour, your scent, how wet you got. Like silky honey dripping down his throat and coating his lips. He was obsessed with it. Which is why he let himself a few moments of flicking his tongue against your ass before he moved down to one of his favourite parts of you. That pretty little clit.
Your moans were like music to his ears. An array of whimpers and whines, pleaded whispers of his name and his honorific. There was nothing like hearing the moan of his name, even moreso when he was being your ‘Daddy’. You were much more pliant, more responsive. He wasn’t sure if it was your submission kicking in more than usual or because your kink was being stroked the entire time.
Either way, he was reaping the benefits.
You were so hot and sweet and were wiggling like a fucking worm in his grip. He had to hold onto your hips harder to keep you still, but that didn’t stop your clenching and trembling when he sucked particularly hard on your clit or fucked his tongue inside you.
So fucking responsive.
“God, you taste so fucking sweet, baby. My favourite meal in the world.” He praised, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking a little rougher than usual just so you’d cry out for him.
“Please. Please.” You begged, forehead pressed against the table.
“What?” Harry mused, sliding his tongue toward your entrance and pressing it there. You clenched on impact and he could feel it at the tip of his tongue. All he could think about now was getting inside you. God, he was so hard. So painfully hard.
“Need you. Please, Daddy. Need your cock so bad.” You begged clearly this time, needing to be filled more than anything.
“Yeah? Need it bad, do you?” Harry stood up, kissing your cheek on the way up before he was ridding himself of his clothing. He was already hot and worked up and he knew that the moment his cock touched you he’d be sweating all over. Besides… he wanted to feel you. He wanted to press his chest into your back and feel your thighs against his.
He craved the intimacy of skin to skin like nothing else.
“Yes. Fuck. Yes.” You sighed, nearly screaming in relief when you felt the tip of his cock bump against your clit.
“I’ll give it to you baby…” He soothed, dragging his tip through your folds to collect your wetness over his cock. “I’ve got you…” His tip pressed against your entrance and you swore you could’ve cried when he slowly pushed in. “Shit.”
“Fuck.”
He stretched you slowly, torturously, like he wanted you to feel every inch of his cock. Every vein and ridge and the way he got slowly wider at the base. It wasn’t something you’d feel when he was fucking you roughly, but God it was all you could feel now. The stretch, the ache, the way your knees buckled when his hand pressed into your lower back to keep you still.
And then the slow, tortuous teasing ended and without any warning he drew his hips back and slammed back into you in a way that had your lungs losing all their breath. His hands were firm on your hips, fingers dug tightly so there was this constant ache that seemed to reach its way straight to your soul.
And you fucking loved it. Every bruising thrust, every snapping sound, the way Harry moaned and cursed, telling you exactly how much he liked it. He never was shy from making sounds of pleasure and it was one of the things that made sex with him so hot.
“You’re so tight. Shit, baby. Always so fucking tight around me.”
“Oh God. Harry!”
“Wrong name, sweetheart.” He reprimanded with a heavy spank on your ass, the snapping sound echoing throughout the room. “Say the right one. Say it.”
“Daddy.” You moaned pathetically, earning another spank right on the other cheek. The sting was the most satisfying sort of burn, a pain that lingered and ached but only made everything so much better. It fuelled your pleasure, contributing to the orgasm you had been waiting for twice now.
It didn’t take long to reach it. Not when he had already teased you with his mouth and fingers and now was fucking you so damn good you could barely breathe. Harry didn’t stop once you rode through your orgasm, no, he took it as an opportunity to give you barely ten seconds of rest and flip you around so you were lying flat on the table. He was nestled back in you before you knew it, in a single fluid thrust that had you crying out from sheer sensitivity.
He didn’t seem to care, or he did but just liked to see the way the tears streamed down your face. And you were okay. He knew you were okay because he checked in with you in that ten seconds of rest, making sure you were green before he flipped you over to fuck you how he wanted.
And fuck. This was how he wanted you.
“You just take it so fucking well, don’t you sweetheart? Always squeeze around my cock so tight.” Harry uttered through gritted teeth, fingers achingly squeezed into your cheeks while his eyes remained glued to where you two were connected.
Harry always loved fucking you from behind. The heart shape of your ass, the way he could see all your pretty holes and how you clenched around him, the way he could get his cock inside you deeper than other positions… how he could grab your hips and fuck you hard, bruising your insides and out. He liked being able to spank your pretty ass and thumb at your tight ring of muscles and he especially liked spreading your cheeks and burying his face between them.
But nothing compared to watching your face. The way your eyes would roll back into your head, how they’d flutter and close when something felt especially good. The scrunch of your nose and furrow of your brow and the way your mouth would part in a whimper when something hurt a little too good. The way your jaw would clench and slack and how dazed your eyes got when he wrapped his hand around your throat.
He loved watching the effect he had on you. Your face showed him how good he was making you feel in a way your body didn’t and it became a little game to him on how to get you to make certain facial expressions.
Mostly though… he liked watching your eyes gloss over the harder he fucked you, the meaner he was. He loved to watch you slip into an ultimate state of submission and pleasure.
“Daddy…” You moaned, unable to come up with anything in reply to him. You were already too far gone.
“I know.” He sympathised. “Shit baby, you feel so fucking good. So good. Got the best pussy, you do.”
There was nothing like having a man moan for you. When they whimpered for you, praised you.
“Love your cock.” The words tumbled out without real thought, “feels so good. Always need it so bad.”
Shit. You didn’t talk dirty very often, not that Harry minded. He liked to watch your reactions when he uttered total filth. But Jesus… when you said anything remotely sexual like that, that you loved his cock? For a moment he feared he was going to prematurely cum before he made you finish for the second time.
“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby, but you’re gonna need to stop if you want me to keep fucking you.”
You let out a choked laugh at his words, loving how one small compliment had him stilling for a second to collect himself. You clenched on purpose, gasping with a smile when he pinched your cheeks a little harder.
“Spit in my mouth.”
Now you were just fucking with him. Through the haze of your pussy being completely destroyed by him, you still managed to tease him and be a fucking brat.
“God, you’re fucking filthy today.” He gritted, cocking his head while sliding his hand down your jaw to the top of your throat so he could tuck his thumb into your mouth. “Open up.”
Your lips parted instantly, earning a pleased ‘good girl’ in return that had you happy as anything. “Stick your tongue out.” Again, you followed his instruction instantly, whimpering when his fingers dug into the sides of your neck with purpose. “That’s it. Good girl.”
It all happened so fast. The praise. The hammering of his hips against yours. The woozy pleasure feeling clouding your brain like a drug. All of it. And then it happened. Harry collected the saliva in his mouth and spat it all over your tongue, watching with sick satisfaction as your saliva slid down to the back of your throat. He groaned loudly and leaned in to kiss you fiercely, picking up the pace against your hips in a way that had tears trailing down your face.
It was so good. So so fucking good. It felt like your whole body was on fire. Every square of your body was pressed against his and when he fucked you particularly hard, the dining table scraped across his gorgeous wooden flooring. Harry didn’t give two fucks about his scratched floors, if anything he liked the thought of always looking at a constant reminder that you were his.
“Can’t believe what a little slut you’re being tonight.” He grinned, palming over your breast and pinching your nipple until you cried out and arched against him. “You fucking love my spit, don’t you? That’s why you asked for it. Because you love being my filthy little slut.”
Filthy little slut. God you loved when he was a little mean to you. A lot mean sometimes too.
“Uhuh. Love it so much.” You nodded enthusiastically, well, as enthusiastically as you could after an orgasm and his cock so deep inside you, you swore you felt it in your throat.
“Yeah? Take some more than. Since you want it so fucking bad.” He spat into your mouth again, using two fingers to roughly spread it over your tongue. He pushed them back, laughing when you suddenly gagged around his fingertips. “Aw, poor baby can’t even handle my fingers, hm? How do you manage my cock then if you can’t even take two fingers down your throat?”
He grabbed your neck this time and pushed you back until you were lying down on the table before grabbing your ankles to hike them on your shoulder.
Yeah… a lot mean was fucking hot.
“Harry.” You protested, covering your face with both hands.
Your whole body was heating up from how mean he was being. Maybe even a little shy at how much you liked it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise anymore that you liked it, not when you two had so much practice with it. Yet you still found yourself getting nervous when he looked at you a certain way or said a certain thing. You rather liked it like that. You never wanted to lose the butterflies. The romance. The big pile of mush you turned into when he degraded you and used you.
“Don’t start being shy now, Angel. You know you like it.” He smirked, reaching forward to grab your hands from your face. He interlaced your fingers, drawing your hands down to rest on your belly so he could look at you. “Wanna look at you, baby. You’ve got the prettiest face. Look so gorgeous like this.”
Every word seemed to be egging you on, drawing you closer to the inevitable ecstasy that would flood through your core. The angle was so intense, so deep you knew that if he pressed on your belly, his cock would press through.
“Oh god. I’m… shit. I’m so close.” You moaned, squeezing his hands and digging your heels into his shoulders.
“Give it to me, baby. Tell me what you need.”
“My… my clit.”
Harry kept one hand intertwined with yours while the other moved down to your clit. He rubbed purposed circles over your bundle of nerves, delivering such perfect pressure it barely took a murmured ‘I love you’ for that wave of white hot pleasure to rush over you. His thrusts stilled at the feeling of you clenching around him and he was quick to widen your legs and fold over you so he could lazily slot your lips together.
With a curse and a pretty whimper into your mouth that had your head spinning, Harry thrust once, twice, three final times until you felt his hot cum fill you up. His body was so heavy over yours, your sticky bodies pressed and joined together. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, wanting to keep him as close as possible to you.
“God, that was so good.” He murmured, tucking his forehead into the crook of your neck.
“Agreed. I’ve missed that” you whispered, panting slightly as you ran your fingers through his hair.
“Me too. Fuck.” He propped himself up over you, pushing your hair back from your face. “Are you okay?”
You smiled and let out a small laugh, tipping your head up so you could kiss him. “I’m more than okay. Two orgasms equals a happy girl.”
“And what does three make you?” He grinned.
“An even happier girl, possibly a tired girl.” You smiled, reaching your arms above your head to arch your back in a stretch. He shook his head and stood back straight, scanning his eyes over the light sheen of sweat on your pretty skin.
“And you’re not tired now?” Harry raised his brow, looking down at your pussy to watch himself pull out. He did so slowly, careful not to hurt you and was completely mesmerised by the trail of cum that followed his cock.
“Fuck.” You whispered, feeling an ache when he fully pulled out of you. “Of course I’m tired. A little sore too. I think I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”
“Mh. Me too. Wish we could sleep together.” He replied, eyes glued to his cum slowly dripping out of you. “I don't think I’ll ever get over how hot it is to see you like this.”
“Mmh.” You agreed, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at his cock covered in your cream. “I always thought creampies were overrated before you. Now… I love it.” Your eyes flickered back to Harry, who was already looking right at you with this dark look that made you want to climb all over him again. “I like feeling it later… even if it’s a little gross to sit in cold cum.”
Harry scrunched his nose up at that, “You could’ve made that so much sexier, y/n. Now when you go home I’ll be thinking of stale cum.”
“I didn’t call it stale! I said ‘cold’.”
“Like that’s any better?” He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll grab you some water and a towel, okay? Stay here.”
“Like I’d go anywhere, I’ll drip stale cum all over your floor.” You shot back as he was already walking into his kitchen. You loved his ass. It was just so cute half the time you had this temptation to just whack it but you knew he’d hate it and probably retaliate ten times worse.
There was something so sexy about him walking around stark naked without a care in the world. He had such confidence in his body and himself that he really didn’t care. You weren’t as confident as he was in that department but being with him had definitely made you more confident in your skin.
“It’s already on my table, y/n. The floor won’t make much difference.”
You clenched up immediately at that comment, trying to stop more of his cum from dripping out of you. “Yeah… we’ve got to sanitise this. We eat here.” You scrunched your nose and sat up to look at the spot between your legs, finding his cum already dripped onto the table.
“Baby I’d sanitise the entire house if it meant I got to fuck you anywhere and everywhere.” He smirked, coming back with a big glass of water and a damp tea towel. He had already cleaned himself up and was quick to crouch down before you to clean you up as well. You didn’t get very nervous about the cleanup anymore. Harry had wiped you clean and taken care of you dozens of times.
“Thank you.” You smiled, grabbing the glass from where he had put it on the table beside you. “Your bed’s next. When we have more time.”
“I still can’t believe we haven’t christened my bed yet. It feels wrong.” He murmured, watching you
shakily bring the glass to your lips while he grabbed your underwear from the pile of clothes on the floor and dragged them up your legs.
“I know. I’ve missed your bed. It’s a lot comfier than mine, more space too.” You had this little mischievous grin playing on your lips, one that Harry found incredibly sexy.
You were still breathing a little heavily and managed to finish half the glass by the time you lifted your hips and Harry adjusted your underwear back in place. You attempted to set the glass down on the table beside you but before you could, he stood up and stopped you with a finger pushing the cup up towards you.
“Ah. All of it.” He tutted, looking at you expectedly until you brought the cup up to your mouth again. He maintained eye contact with you, one hand rubbing over your bare thigh while he kept a single finger underneath your glass. It was firm enough to tell you to keep drinking, but not enough so you wouldn’t be able to move the glass on your own. “Good girl… that’s it, drink all of it. Atta girl.”
You loved being fucked rough and dirty and since you two decided not to use condoms, your favourite thing was being pumped full of his cum, even more so when he degraded you when it happened. Like he just did barely two minutes ago. But there was something even better about the aftercare. His sweet tone, his commanding and caring nature as he got you water and a snack. All of it.
And the praise. Somehow it was so much sexier when you two were post-sex, even more so when it was casual. A nonchalant ‘good girl’ when you did something he asked or a loving ‘I’m so proud of you’ when you got a good grade or finished an assignment. His atta girl at finishing your water nearly made you drop to your shaky knees and get him nice and hard again with your mouth.
He said the words like they were nothing then moved on, not really caring that you were like a frozen deer at the first sign of praise. “I happen to like your bed. It’s cosy.”
“Yeah…” you breathed, “cosy and next to a thin wall where even adjusting in my bed can be heard by next door.”
“You don’t think they’d like hearing you call me ‘Daddy’?” He grinned, putting his sweatpants on and grabbing your t shirt to help put that on you too. You’ll definitely have to shower the second you walk into your house. There’s just no way you don’t smell like a sex club.
“No, I don’t think so.” You finished the very last sip of your water, making sure there wasn’t a single drop left in the glass. Once it was all gone, Harry grabbed it from you and placed it down on the table out of the way, tipping your head up with a gentle finger under your chin while his thumb rubbed over the leftover wetness around your mouth from your drink.
“Thank you.” You whispered, kissing his thumb.
Harry smiled softly and guided your mouth to his for a single, deep, core-clenching kiss. It felt like a kiss that was promising so much more and even though you just had your fill, literally, it didn’t make you any less insatiable for him. There was just something about Harry dominating… truly dominating that turned you into a horny little rabbit.
You wouldn’t be surprised if Harry called you that one day. It felt like the less you saw each other, the more insatiable you became. With the last couple of weeks being so busy, each time you’ve seen each other had been takeaway or a quick dinner and quick - but good - sex. You didn’t have proper time together and while fucking until the morning sounded and felt like a good idea in the moment, when you both woke up and Harry had his long commute to work or you had a day full of classes it became a regret.
Well, not a regret per se. You’d never regret sleeping with him. Ever. But you both complained about being tired the entire day to each other. More you than him since you loved to complain about everything and now Harry was fortunate enough to be the one to hear it all. It was worth it, but it was hard.
You couldn’t take every weekend, or even every second weekend off work to spend time with Harry because you needed money and he couldn’t ‘work from home’ to spend time with you. Driving so much took it out of both of you too so it was always easier if he stayed the night. Things would change once your parents knew and you had a bit more freedom… but you had a feeling they wouldn’t be totally happy with you spending nights with him instead of them.
And next door to top it all off.
Your anxious feelings didn’t help the situation either, but even with that little hiccup, you had missed time. Time where you two could just explore each other's bodies and try new things, go multiple rounds without the stress of your responsibilities. You had that before you two started dating so you knew that the changes to your sex life were mostly your fault. Or because of your situation.
If you lived closer things would be a lot easier. But that was also life and you two were figuring out what worked for you and now to manage it all. Ideally, once you were finished with university, maybe you two would move in with each other or at the very least you’d want to live much closer to him.
It was still so early into your relationship and you didn’t want to jump too far… but being full of his cum made your brain a little dizzy and romantic. Suddenly you were ready to forget your birth control and let him fuck a baby in you so you could be at home with him all the time. As a fantasy of course.
Which is why your post-sex horny brain took a few seconds longer to process the next words out of his mouth.
“Hey, um. I need to tell you something.” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours. He slid his hand along your cheek to cup your face, letting his fingertips comb through your hair a little.
“Hm?” you asked, brows furrowing when you read the nervous look in his eyes. Your stomach dropped suddenly and that anxious gut feeling felt more rampant than ever. “What is it?”
“I have to go back to London.”
“Oh, okay.” You were a little taken aback. Harry hadn’t mentioned any trips or work events or anything recently. The timing of it right after the phone call too felt a bit unnerving. You just hoped everything was okay. “When?”
“Just over a month.” He murmured, feeling that steady beat of anxiety claw at his throat. Harry hated that he had to ruin such a good moment, such a pleasurable, romantic experience to talk about this. He wasn’t sure how you’d react and it scared the hell out of him.
“Wow, that’s short notice.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, threading your fingers casually into his hair. “Is it… family? Or work or?”
“Family. I…” he swallowed thickly, hugging his arms around you. “It’s my sister’s birthday. Everyone’s going to be there.”
“That’s great.” You smiled, relieved that it wasn’t something horrible. That he was okay. “That’ll be such a nice trip, Harry. Did you saw them last year when you went over?”
Harry didn’t speak about them a lot. He didn’t not speak about them and when they came up he always had something to say, but it also wasn’t a topic he brought up by himself. He spoke about his travels quite often, but even that topic hadn’t come up in a while. You were a little glad actually because you didn’t really want to think about him going away for so long. The thought of him in Italy looking all gorgeous and tanned without you made you violently ill.
Harry shook his head and sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my family.”
And there it was.
“What do you mean?” You asked softly, trying not to jump to any conclusions. Whatever it was had to be deeply personal and you knew that.
After the very brief mention of his nephew passing, you two hadn’t spoken about it once. You wanted to ask but it never felt like the right time and after that phone call, the last thing you wanted to do was make him think you were pressuring him into talking.
And now to learn there was more…
“Well… you know how I told you about my nephew?” You nodded, “When he died… it was right around the time I was meant to move here. The timing was so fucked. My flight had been booked for months and it was scheduled for the week after the funeral. Everything was packed and ready to go and my job was due to start only a few days after I landed in Melbourne…”
“That must’ve been so hard, Harry. I can’t imagine having to leave everyone so close to his passing.”
“It gets worse, y/n.” He shook his head, looking down at the floor. “When Harry Jr died, it really fucked me up. I already wasn’t in the best mental state because of my ex, even if I thought I was fine, and I couldn’t handle it.” You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with it. It was clear he did something, but what? “Harry Jr was like my own kid. Him and Lola were everything to me but he was just… like my twin. Lola and I were close but it didn’t compare to the bond Harry and I had. Losing him was… the worst thing that has ever happened to me and as fucked as it was and still is, I couldn’t handle it.”
Harry was starting to get worked up. His words were becoming a little shaky and you could feel how tense he became. He was holding onto you so tight and yet he was avoiding looking at you. He was scared to hear how you were going to react and he was having a hard time finding the words to explain what he had done.
Practicing with Max did nothing to help. He had told people before and been faced with his actions for years so it wasn’t a new discussion to have. But telling you, the love of his life, how he betrayed and destroyed his family only to keep himself distanced because he was a coward was the hardest it had ever been.
“Everyone grieves differently, Harry. It would’ve been hard for everyone.” You tried to soothe, combing through his hair.
“I changed my flight to the day of the funeral.” He just went and said it, immediately feeling your fingers stop in his hair and how you seemed to pull your body back from his. You didn’t mean to do it, but you were a little shocked. “I spent days breaking down and feeling the most depressed I had ever been. The idea of going to that funeral and seeing the small coffin… I couldn’t do it.” He stepped back from you, running his hands through his hair. He was shaking, his throat aching with how hard he was willing away the tears. His eyes were stinging and he didn’t want to face you as he explained the rest of the story, even when you slipped off the table and whispered his name, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I skipped the funeral without telling anyone and I flew here to start my new life.” He paused, swallowing thickly, “I left her, y/n. I left my only sister on the worst day of her life because I couldn’t handle it. She lost her son and I left. I left!” The words came out in an angry spit and his shoulders seemed to widen and slump forward like he was holding back immense rage. At himself. “We fought and she said she’d never forgive me again, fuck I can’t forgive myself. I don’t even want to.”
You were a little thrown off balance, to be honest. You never expected him to say any of that and to hide it from you for so long. But you couldn’t be upset either. He made a terrible mistake and you could see how badly it was eating him up. Harry was a proud person and very rarely doubted himself or his actions, yet you knew he was so ashamed in himself for what he did. It was hard to see.
“Harry…” You tried to get him to turn around with a little squeeze of his shoulder but he shrugged it off.
“My mum hated me, Gemma hated me, Andy hated me. Everyone hated me and I deserved it. I’ve skipped every Christmas since because I couldn’t face it and because I was a coward. I’m still a coward. I’ve sent letters and texts and tried to call her and I’ve never been able to see her face to face because I’m scared. I’ve never been able to push myself to that next step because I keep thinking it’s too late. That she’ll never forgive me.”
You could see how devastated he was about it and how angry he was at himself. And you understood it. He had spent nearly five years away from his family, beating himself up because of a huge mistake he made. And it was huge. You weren’t going to dispel that. You weren’t even sure that if you were in Gemma’s place, you’d ever get over something like that.
But Harry has also changed a lot. You imagined Harry Jr’s death changed him for the worse. Since the moment you met him, he always was a selfish, narcissistic person. It was never a secret that he lived his life for himself and cared about money and his job over anything else and maybe Harry Jr’s death had something to do with that. But since knowing him he’s made so many improvements to himself. He’s completely turned around to try and be an honest and good person.
The things he did for you and put himself through to protect you wouldn’t be done by just anyone. He had so much love in him and had proved that time and time again. He was attentive and caring and so generous. You were starting to think that he always was that person but was torturing himself for so long because of the mistakes he had made that it was easier to keep people at an arm's length.
After knowing him deeper though, you knew that his family meant a lot to him. He spoke to his mum at least twice a week and looked after her financially too. She was a young mum and had already been retired for nearly 10 years because of the way Harry invested his money and the success he had in all his different ventures. Being able to retire a parent when you’re barely 30 and live your own life in such an extravagant way is a massive achievement.
Which is why you were just so shocked he hadn’t visited Gemma in person yet to try and mend things. How did it take so long for him to finally make the decision to go back to the UK and mend things with her, at least you assumed that’s why he wanted to go to her birthday. You assumed the phone call with his mum had something to do with it too.
You weren’t really sure what to make of it or what to say. You loved him and were always going to love him and it hurt to know that he had been in a mental place so low and so far gone that he hurt his only sibling this badly. He was suffering with his own grief and unable to cope that badly that his sister, the mother of his nephew had to mourn the loss of her son and her brother all at the same time.
It was awful all around.
“Harry. Turn around, please.” You coaxed gently, giving his shoulder another little squeeze. He inhaled a shaky breath and slowly turned around, showing you his reddened eyes and puffy nose. “Come here.” You guided, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the couch so you two could sit and talk about it properly. He remained silent while you took his hands in yours, trying to find the right words to support him.
“What you did was wrong…” His expression seemed to fall even further, complete despair in his eyes. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” You softened your expression, reaching up to cup his face in both hands. “You’ve been torturing yourself because of this for years and I get it. I can’t put myself in your shoes or even Gemma’s shoes because I don’t have siblings and I don’t have nieces or nephews but I understand loss and I understand family. Everyone grieves differently but the one constant in our lives is our family. I don’t think it’s too late to make up for it.”
“You don’t mean that.” He whispered, scanning your face. “Why don’t you hate me? I fucked up.”
“You did and I won’t excuse what you did. But you were in a horrible part of your life and yeah, the right thing to do was go to the funeral, but you made your choice and you’ve lived with the consequences already. You have changed and grown so much since we started dating, Harry, and I can see the difference it’s making in your life. All you can do now is try and show Gemma you’ve changed. That you’re better.”
Harry said nothing for a moment and swallowed the lump in his throat, “I’ve tried to go home to her for years and every time I get close, I see how happy they are without me and it stops me. There was one Summer I even made it to the front gate and saw Gemma and Lola through the window. They looked so happy. Lola was so big and Gemma looked at peace. I didn’t want to destroy that.”
“Don’t you think she’d be happier knowing she had her brother back?” You asked softly, dropping your hands from his face to grab his hands instead.
“I don’t know.” He admitted, “My mum has been trying to get me to go back for a long time, always trying to convince me that everyone missed me. That Gemma missed me. I never went because I was thinking about myself instead of her. It was easier for me to stay away than confront what I did. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be that person.”
He sounded so determined and he was. He always appreciated your honesty and you kept him accountable time and time again but you did it in a way that still supported him. You listened to him fully and offered support and advice. You didn’t act like he was a monster. He hoped that you felt like that on the inside too.
“Is that what the phone call was about? Her birthday?”
Harry nodded. “My mum has been hounding me about it for months. When the call happened I wasn’t ready to tell you because I was scared I’d lose you. Really fucking scared. I know it upset you, baby, and I’m so sorry.” He squeezed your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t want to. I hope I haven’t lost you because I was ashamed.”
“You haven’t.” You smiled, squeezing his hands. “You haven't. I was upset at the time, but I didn’t want to press you because you’re allowed to have things that are just yours... I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.” You reached up to cup his cheek, watching the way he nuzzled into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the comfort he felt. “I don’t think you’re that person anymore, Harry. I think Gemma would appreciate the work you’ve put into yourself to become a better person.”
“You think so?” He whispered, scanning your face with his eyes.
You nodded. “I think it’ll take time. I honestly don’t know how things will work out because I don’t know her, but I know you and I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things with her. You’re her brother, Harry.”
“I love you,” Harry murmured, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck to draw you in for a kiss. This wasn’t the end of this conversation by any means. You had questions and you hoped that he’d be a lot more open about his family now. This was such an intense, deep-rooted issue. If he wanted to talk about it more, which you hoped he did, it wouldn’t happen in one night.
The kiss deepened ever so slightly, ending with a little run of his tongue against your bottom lip while he rested his forehead against yours. “Will you come with me?”
“What? Where? To London?” You blinked, a little surprised at his sudden request.
He nodded, tightening his hand in your hair just a little. It wasn’t to hurt you, just to feel you. “I don’t know if I can do it by myself. I want you there.”
“Harry-” you tried to interrupt, but it was like he felt your hesitation before you even said anything.
“I can show you my hometown, my house. You can meet my mum, maybe even Gemma. I just… I don’t want to leave you. I want you to come with me.”
This felt like something he needed to do by himself. It happened before he even knew you and was such an important step in his life. Family is family and it would almost feel like an intrusion to be there when he’d be sorting through so much history.
“Harry…” you sighed, leaning back. “I want nothing more than to support you but I have school. I don’t know if I can take time off and I’ve still got this trip planned at the end of the year with my friends. Money wise too… it’s a lot and it’s so soon.”
“You wouldn’t have to pay for a thing, y/n. I’d never let you do that.” His voice turned lower just a touch like he was almost reprimanding you for even suggesting he’d let you pay for a single thing. “And I think it might even align with your semester break, at least some of it anyway. Even if you flew in later and met me there? We could travel. I could take you to my house in Italy.” He was trying so hard to convince you but by the look on your face, it wasn’t working.
“It’s not just that, Harry.” You chuckled at his attempts to convince you, which actually were quite appealing. “I love you and the idea of Italy and seeing where you grew up is so… amazing but I think this is something you need to do by yourself. There is so much history there and so much you need to work through. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to go.”
“I want you to come.” He coaxed, pecking you quickly. God when he had that almost pouty look on his face and murmured so sweetly… you’d agree to anything. “You can do your own thing. You’ve always wanted to go to London. There’s so much to do and you can do whatever you want. As long as I get to see you at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Have you in my bed every night.” Now the thought of that was extremely appealing. “Just think about it. Please.”
“I’ll think about it.” You compromised, smiling softly.
“Thank you.” He kissed you again before wrapping his arms around you to draw you into his chest. Both of you knew you had to head home, but it wasn’t the right time for you to leave. You couldn’t.
You spent the next hour or so just wrapped in his arms, then him wrapped in yours. He opened up a little more about Gemma and his extended family and he already seemed so much more open to speak about them. You could tell this was something that weighed heavy on him for a long time.
Archie made his way from outside at some point too, bringing in a trail of dust and leaves that broke the tension in the room and let you and Harry distract yourselves by bathing him. He had been running a muck outside the entire time, obsessively playing with a new toy Harry bought him. He was so engrossed in it, that he didn’t even know you came over.
That was probably a good idea since you and Harry spent a lot of your time together naked. You swear Archie had PTSD from Harry’s instruction to go to his bed.
It was late by the time you peeled yourself from Harry, not wanting to leave but knowing you had to. He didn’t want you to leave either but you promised to come over before you left in the morning. He was tempted to come home with you and you had a feeling he might drive back in his own car so he could spend the night with you, or even the day before driving back in the night.
It was times like these where you hated that your parents didn’t know about him. After learning everything, maybe it was time.
“Hey, baby.” Your mum greeted, hugging you the moment you walked into your kitchen.
“Hi.” You smiled, hugging her back. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, pumpkin.” He hugged you next, kissing your forehead before returning to the pot he was stirring on the stove.
“Sorry I took forever, I was catching up with Harry then Archie ended up dragging dirt through the house so I stayed to help him clean up.” You explained, hoping she bought the excuse. There was this expression on her face that just told you she didn’t believe you, but she didn’t say anything about it so you decided to leave it and not say too much. Otherwise, she’d really know something was up if you started waffling.
“It’s nice you two have stayed so close.” There was something about the way she focused on the word ‘close’, but she had a glass of wine in hand and always liked to read into things when she got a bit tipsy. You hoped you were just being a little paranoid. “You think he’ll give you your job back over your semester break?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I might just plan my shifts at the cafe so I can be here for a couple of days then at mine for a couple of days. I don’t want to cut my shifts at the cafe completely.”
“Mh.” She agreed, “think about it. You know I like having you around.”
“I know. I like being here too.” You smiled, “I’m going to shower and get changed quickly. I’ll be right back.”
“Alright. Don’t be too long.” She called after you.
“I won’t!”
The night continued as it always did. Dinner, a glass of wine, an update on your week of uni and your night out with your friends (sans Harry, of course). Then Dad went to his office to do some quotes and your mum and you wound up on the couch watching The Real Housewives. Another couple glasses of wine was involved, but it was a Saturday night and you had nowhere to be tomorrow except home.
Perfect.
Until your mum paused the show while you got up to get a snack and when you returned, she had no plans of playing it again. She had this look on her face, like she was getting ready to announce something really big or ask you an invasive question.
It was the latter.
“Are you okay?” You asked, landing on the couch with a heavy seat. The wine slowly infused in your body, making you feel like a heavy lump of bones. You were getting to the point where one more sip of wine would knock you out and your pillow was calling your name.
“I need to ask you something.” She shifted on the couch, sitting cross legged while facing you. She still had her glass of wine in hand, eyeing it like she had a nervous tick.
“Okay…” you looked at her a little funny, taking a sip of wine.
“Are you sleeping with Harry?” At her words, your eyes widened and the wine suddenly travelled down the wrong hole. You coughed repeatedly and Mum was quick to lean forward to tap your back until your coughing subsided. “Our neighbour, Harry.”
“Thanks for the clarification, Mum, but I only know one Harry.” You coughed, rubbing the sore spot over your chest. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Just answer the question. Is it true?”
Shit. What were you even meant to do? You didn’t want to lie about it because the truth would always come out, but you also weren’t ready to talk about it. You had this whole speech planned and all these things you wanted to say when you brought it up to her and now that she was the one asking you about it, there was nothing in your head.
You felt bombarded by it. But maybe it was better to tell her first before your dad found out. At least this way you could explain everything and diffuse any worries so when he found out, your mum would be on your side. And you knew she would be. Or hopeful at best. Maybe not at first, but all she wanted was your happiness and if Harry made you happy, she’d support you with it.
Your parents had always told you that they didn’t care what you did with your life as long as you were happy, healthy and safe. They’d support you if it truly was what you wanted. When they said that they were talking about work, not dating your neighbour, but it still applied.
It would be a shock to them and you knew that, but no one was getting hurt and you were happier than you had ever been. You knew they’d understand. Eventually anyway.
“Um…” you trailed off, looking away briefly. “Yes? But we’re not sleeping together, we’re… we’re dating.” Even though you could tell she wasn’t surprised, the look of pure disappointment on her face expressed exactly how she felt. She didn’t want you to say yes. “I was going to tell you.” You jumped in again before she replied, wanting to get as much out as possible before she gave her opinion. “I swear. I wanted to tell you and Dad both at the same time so you two wouldn’t get all weird with each other if one of you knew first.”
“Oh god, y/n!” Mum pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a heavy sip of wine before continuing like it would somehow make the news easier to bear. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. I prayed that you weren’t and yet here we are.”
“You knew? How?”
“I didn’t know, but I kind of worked it out. You've been a little giddier than usual. Always looking at your phone and you’re always going over there when you come to visit. He's been different too. Less broody and secretive and he's been getting a dogsitter for Archie for a lot more overnights than usual. Mother’s know these things, y/n. So… explain. How did it start?”
Was it seriously that obvious? When she put it like that, it kind of was obvious that you were seeing someone. She wasn't particularly upset by it, but her tone wasn't overly jovial either. She was calm. Calm was good.
Though it could've been the wine making her more relaxed.
“I guess we kind of got closer as I dogsat Archie. We’d always talk for ages and we had that weekly dinner, which you knew about. Then one day… I don’t know. Things changed.” You averted eye contact, feeling a blush graze your cheeks at the memory of the first time you two slept together.
“You were sleeping together?” You nodded silently, knowing that she’d be able to tell if you were lying. “When?”
“What?”
“When was the first time?”
“Mum.” You protested, “you don’t need to know that.”
“I do, actually because now that I know it happened, I need to know when it started.”
“Yes but-”
“So when was the first time, y/n?”
You clearly weren't getting out of this one.
“...A few weeks before his birthday, I guess.”
“A few weeks before his birthday.” She repeated to herself, “so you were dogsitting for him and having dinner with him for weeks and what? You two were just sleeping together each time just like that? All those times you came home ‘late’, you were sleeping with him? Right next door? Have you slept with him here?”
“Mum, stop!” You whined, hating how she seemed to be spiralling about the fact you had sex.
Her questions were practically spitfire and if you didn't stop her now, she'd continue and her questions would get way more invasive. She always was like that when she drank. Nosy and more brazen than usual. Dad always said it was because she was pretty that she got away with the way she ran her mouth when she drank.
Mum was harmless, but God if there was even a smidge of a secret hanging around she'd find out and talk about it to anyone and everyone.
She knew you weren’t a virgin and while you didn’t share every detail of your sex life, she knew you had slept with a couple of guys. You were always open and honest with her to an extent because you valued her advice, especially when your heart got involved and you ended up getting hurt. But right now you didn’t want to hear her fears or her spiralling bout the fact you had sex next door when you knew she and Dad had sex only two rooms away from you. If it were up to her, she’d know every detail about every aspect of your life.
You understood it to an extent and you practically did share everything with her. But seriously. Boundaries.
“I love you but it’s none of your business. I don’t ask when you and dad have sex because that’s disgusting so don’t ask me!”
“Fine. Fine. You’re right.” She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, “Just tell me you’re still on birth control and we can move on.”
“Yes. I am.”
“Good because I swear to God, y/n, if you come home pregnant...”
“Mum!”
“I had to say it, okay? It’s my job as a mother. Now continue.”
“It wasn’t serious at first and neither-” you paused to give her a warning glance when it looked like she was going to make another comment about your sex life. She only rolled her eyes and sipped her wine again, attentively listening to you talk, “neither of us wanted a relationship and I always said to you too that it didn’t interest me but he somehow managed to change my mind about it all. He didn't mean to and he was further away from commitment than I was... but the longer it went on, the more we realised that it was more than just casual." You let out a sigh, "I didn’t want to like him mum, I didn’t. There were problems and he had problems and I knew it was stupid to fall for someone who lived his whole life single and selfish but things changed and kept changing. He changed.”
The whole time you spoke, she actively listened. She didn’t try to interrupt or even make any weird noises of indignation that your dad definitely would. She just listened and processed it. You appreciated that.
“It wasn’t an easy beginning to our relationship because we had a lot of differences and he… he hurt me really bad. I almost told you back then too because he broke my heart. Really bad.” Your voice broke slightly, feeling that same break in your heart that you did at the very beginning.
“Y/n.” She soothed, placing her hand on yours over your knee. “You could’ve told me back then, y’know. I would’ve been there for you. I'm a little hurt you didn't trust me enough to come talk to me about this.”
“It's not about trust, mum. You know I trust you. Everything was just so complicated and I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t really think we’d get back together, anyway, so I didn’t want to start something and have you storm to his house to tell him off for no reason when I thought it was over.”
“I would’ve done that. I can still do that for you, if you want?” She smiled, sipping her wine again.
“No, don't," You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We worked things out and… well we never looked back. Before we ended our casual relationship so badly, Harry was really complicated and secretive and God sometimes I wanted to strangle him. But when we got back together… he changed everything for me, mum. He worked on himself and is still working on himself and honestly, I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been. He treats me so so well and he spoils me and loves me everyday and-”
“He loves you?” She interrupted, “as in you loves you.”
You nodded.
“And you love him back?”
You took an extra moment to respond to her, not really sure where she was going with her comments. “I do. I know I do.”
“y/n…” She sighed. You could feel the change in the air. How her active listening turned to disappointment and a hope that your relationship would end before it properly started. “I honestly thought that you were just dating and having fun and he was buying you nice things, but love? I have no doubt you feel that way towards him but isn’t it too soon?”
“I just know, mum. I had no control over it and I never meant for it to happen but it did and… and I’m happy. I’m so happy with him and even with the distance and everything else, we’re making it work.”
“But how? He’s not too much younger than your dad and I and he’s got no kids, has never been married? Everyone knows he’s had his fun and sleeps with whoever he wants, what’s to say he doesn’t still want that? And then there’s the opposite. What if he’s finally done with being a bachelor and wants to settle and have kids before he gets too old? Is that what you want? Because I know it’s not.” She gave you this look and crossed her arms over her chest, like she already knew what your answer would be.
She seemed to know all your answers tonight.
“Of course I don’t want that. Not now anyway. But he doesn’t want that and he doesn’t want to sleep around either.”
“So you two haven’t spoken about settling down?” She fired back, already knowing that you had. Your mum was the best reader of people and relationships, probably because she stuck her nose in everyone's business and knew all the ways they failed.
“I mean we have but not for now. Like… just so we both know that this isn’t a short term kind of thing.”
“Y/n, baby. You are so young. So young and gorgeous and smart.” She soothed, leaning forward to cup your face and run her hands over your hair. “You have your whole life in front of you and the whole world at your fingertips. Why are you settling down with someone who’s already experienced everything? Would you not rather explore the world with someone who hasn’t seen it over and over again?”
“Mum, I can still do everything I want to do when I’m with him." You exasperated, brushing her hands off you. "I can travel and work overseas if I want and I still see my friends and do everything normal. Being in a relationship doesn’t stop that and if anything, Harry’s position makes it easier. He’s stable financially and is happy to slow down and do what I want. It’s not that he doesn’t get a say, but he’s got the freedom and wants to experience everything with me. It may not seem like it, but he’s got a lot of firsts too, mum. Trust me, I’ve thought about it all.”
“Look, I don’t know him very well.” She sighed, settling back against the couch. “He’s been living next door for nearly five years and I couldn’t even tell you what footy team he supports, but he’s always been polite and charming. All I can do is go off that and what you tell me and if you’re telling me you’re happy then… I guess I’m happy too. I just don’t want you to get hurt, y/n. By anyone.”
“I know. I don’t want that either but I promise you’ll love him like I do. You’ll see why he means so much to me. You and dad.” You smiled, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze.
“I hope so.” She smiled back, squeezing your hand in return. “So tell me more. Tell me everything.”
The next few hours were spent practically debriefing your entire relationship. You kept the bigger problems private as she simply wouldn’t understand the Ethan situation, but you told her everything else you two had been through. If it had something to do with Ethan, you twisted the story a little but for the most part, it was an amazing chat.
You loved your mum more than anything and to actually sit there and talk about Harry so freely and honestly and have her engage properly was the best feeling ever. She freely gave advice (even when you didn’t want it) but you were happy with that. You didn’t have a lot of boy problems so actually having someone to talk about with her was everything to you. It made you hopeful for the future of your relationship with Harry and took so much weight off your shoulders.
It was liberating.
“Oh god…” mum wheezed, her laughter coming to a stop as she finished off her final glass of wine for the evening. “I’m too drunk right now but in the morning we’ll brainstorm how to get back at chatty Cathy across the road. She can never ever keep her mouth shut. That woman.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Your brows furrowed and that happy, calm energy you had somehow dissipated into thin air.
“Tracey? The only reason I asked you if you were seeing Harry was because Tracey’s been hinting at it for weeks. I thought I told you.”
“No… you didn’t.”
Your mind was suddenly twisting and turning. After everything you had been through with her and Ethan and even just the shit between you and Harry, she still wouldn’t leave you alone. You had done nothing to her and left her alone since you moved out for school and yet she still had to run her mouth off about you? You just didn’t get it.
Harry had recordings over her admitting to lying to you and you had photos of her cheating and she knew that and still decided to try and get some attention her way? Nope. Not on your fucking watch.
You were over it. You were over being the target of people who you had nothing to do with. Who only wanted to use you to get money or for some other stupid fucking reason that meant nothing in real life. You were done. So if she was going to run her big fat mouth about you, then you were going to do it right back and you were going to hit her where it hurt the most. Her family.
//
It was only a couple of days later when the truth came out. You weren’t trying to hide it from Harry but it also wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have over the phone. He got called into work for some client emergency on Sunday which ruined his plan to come spend the day and/or night with you. Then neither of you could see the other until Tuesday as he planned to work from home on Wednesday.
You were glad that his quiet days seemed to align with yours because it meant you could spend more time together. Even if you were both busy working or doing uni work, just being in his presence was enough to make you happy. And now that your mum knew about you two… it was only a matter of time before you could start spending nights at his house too.
“Baby?” You heard Harry’s voice echo through your apartment, easily being heard in the shower due to your thin walls.
“In here.” You yelled back, scrubbing your nails through your scalp to rinse out the remaining conditioner. Harry accidentally went home with your keypass after going on his morning run the last time he stayed over. He kept it in his shorts pocket so he wouldn’t wake you and it wound up in his bags somehow, hence his ability to enter your place without you needing to go downstairs and get him. He wasn’t really meant to have them, but it was only for a couple of days and Maeve had your spares so you could still get in and out easily.
“Can I come in?” He asked a moment later, knocking on the bathroom door.
“Yeah.”
Wordlessly, he opened the door and let himself in, scanning your naked body from head to toe. You were facing the wall with your eyes closed, head tilted back so the water was streaming down your hair. Gorgeous. He had been craving you all day. It was just one of those days where it was shit after shit and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with you and just be wrapped in your arms.
“Can I join you?” Harry asked softly, itching to jump in the hot water with you. He was already loosening his tie. Before entering your bathroom he took off his jacket and shoes so he was ready to let the rest of his clothes fall to the ground without care. You always had showers extremely hot and now that the weather was cooling down, Harry quite liked the sauna it left behind in the bathroom. He didn’t particularly enjoy it when it was 30° outside but he never let that stop him from getting in a shower with you.
“Of course, you can.” You smiled, still facing away from him. You always felt a little vulnerable being in a shower with him. Even though he had seen your body plenty of times, there was still something so sacred and personal about getting clean. You were glad you had already washed yourself before he came in because the last thing you needed him to see was you plucking out one of your long hairs from your underarms or ass.
“I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here.” You hummed, feeling the slide of his cold bare hands along your hips as he joined you in the shower.
“Yeah, I had to work late. ‘M sorry to keep you waiting.” He murmured, kissing your shoulder while wrapping his arms fully around you. You sighed into the touch, tilting your head back to welcome the feeling of his body around yours. He snuggled against you, proper bear-hugging you while digging his forehead into the crook of your neck.
“It’s okay. Maeve dragged me to a late Pilates class so I had to wash my hair. I swear I sweat like two litres every time.” You laughed softly, “I would’ve waited for you. I like being at the door to greet you.”
“I like having you greet me too.” He kissed your neck softly, “did you have fun at Pilates? I haven’t been for a while.”
“I liked it. It was a beginner class so no handstands or anything like you do but I’m sore already. ” You teased, turning around slowly to face him. He kept your body close, immediately kissing you once your faces were in line. “We should go together sometime. I’ve been trying to get Jay to go but he keeps blowing me off.” You offered, immediately sensing that something was off with him.
“I’d like that.” He murmured, pressing his lips against yours again. Harry was craving your comfort. He didn’t want to start anything or get too riled up, he just loved the warmth that spread through his chest when his mouth melted into yours. It could be a peck, a pash, a full snogging session. It didn’t matter.
You combed your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “How was your day?”
“Shit. Just one of those days, y’know.” Harry replied, pressing your foreheads together before kissing you again. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too. Do you want to talk about it?” You slowly eased your bodies around so he was facing the water instead of you. He shook his head and let his eyes flutter closed as the hot water streamed over his head. You pushed his hair back from his face, kissing his chest. “Okay.” When Harry wanted to talk he’d willingly do so, so you weren’t going to push him. Sometimes work was just shit and you got that. He’d probably talk about it later once he decompressed and relaxed. “You want me to wash your hair?”
A smile grew on his face at your offer and he tipped his head down to look at you. Harry loved having his hair played with and his scalp scratched. He was like a cat. Sometimes he’d just lay there with his head on your lap for hours while you played with his hair. You first found it out during sex because he liked the pain, especially when his head was between your thighs so it only made sense he’d like it out of the bedroom too.
“You sure?”
You nodded and reached up on your tippy toes to kiss him. “Turn around.”
He pecked your mouth gently as a thank you then turned around to face the water. Wordlessly, you grabbed your shampoo and squeezed some onto your hands, rubbing them together to emulsify before you brought them to his scalp.
Harry moaned as you massaged his scalp, using your nails to scratch as you went. “That feels good.”
“Good.” You hummed, happy to look at the expanse of his back. His back muscles were incredible.
It sometimes amazed you how fit he was, but with his daily runs and intense personal training sessions he somehow managed to squeeze into his routine, it really was no wonder that he looked the way he did. He worked his ass off to be as fit as he was and to stay that way and it all paid off because his physique was better than any boy your age.
You joined him in a personal training session once and you had no doubt any of the boys you had been with in the past would fail halfway through. Would you say you participated in said session? No. You were lugged over his shoulders so he could use your weight to do squats though.
“Are we okay?” Harry asked suddenly, voice soft.
“Of course we are.” You replied instantly. “Why wouldn’t we be?” You continued rubbing circles on his scalp, massaging him to make it more pleasurable and relaxing. Your arms were already starting to ache a little, but it was worth it.
“I’m just making sure.”
“I love you, Harry. Nothing will change that.” You murmured, running your hands down from his scalp to massage his neck and over his shoulder. He echoed the sentiment, voice just audible over the water as your lips created the trail for your hands to follow; over his neck and the expanse of his shoulders, down to the middle of his back and as low as you could go without bending.
The tension was slowly leaving his body. Tense muscles melting and relaxing, his tense shoulders slumping until he was heavy on his feet. He was completely pliant to your touch and you couldn’t wait to wrap your arms around him and cuddle in bed. Part of you even wanted to skip dinner and head straight to bed.
“Rinse it, H.” You whispered, kissing a little freckle on his back before pulling back to give him space to turn around. He started scrubbing the shampoo out while you prepared his conditioner, rubbing it through your hands so it covered all your fingers.
“Y’know something interesting did happen today. It was quite a spectacle in the neighbourhood.” Harry mused, already feeling better just by your touch and loving words. He stayed facing towards you to catch your reaction, which was as easy to read as ever.
“What?” You froze for a split second while reaching to thread the conditioner through his hair, already knowing exactly what he was talking about.
“Tracey was kicked out. Unfortunately I was already on my way to work but she was crying so loud everyone on the street was watching. Apparently, he found out she was cheating on him. You know anything about that?” He had this look of knowing on his face and it was like he knew that you had something to do with it.
Shit.
“About that…” you smiled sheepishly, putting your hands down to let the conditioner sit in his hair.
“I knew it!” He accused, laughing while squeezing your hips. “What did you do?”
“Okay, but you can’t be mad.” You laughed, poking his chest. “I was going to tell you tonight, okay?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?” His brows knitted together, “I’m sure whatever you did had good reasoning behind it.”
“Well, yeah she’s a cunt but it’s not that.” Harry laughed loudly at your comment and you could feel his mood being lifted like steam dissipating in the air. You had such a fucking mouth on you sometimes. He loved it. “When I got home after we had that talk, everything was normal until my mum and I were watching TV after dinner. She said she had to talk about something and then just flat-out asked me if you and I were sleeping together! Like it was nothing.”
“Shit.” His eyes widened, “And what did you tell her?”
“I told her the… truth.” You were a little nervous to tell him. A lot nervous actually. You knew he was ready to tell your parents whenever you were, but it felt wrong to have that conversation without him. But you couldn’t exactly call him or go over to his house after he just told you about his nephew. That would’ve been all sorts of fucked. Your mum knowing about you two dating meant nothing compared to what he was going through.
“You did?”
“Yes. I’m really sorry.” You rushed out. “I wanted you to know when I was going to do it but I couldn’t lie to her when she was straight out asking me the question.”
“And you thought I’d be mad?” He scoffed, laughing softly while tucking your hair behind your ear. “Baby, the only way I’d be mad is if you were pressured into doing something you weren’t ready for. Were you okay having that conversation with her? I know… I know you weren’t ready to tell your parents yet.”
“Harry she asked me because Tracey was talking shit. After everything, everything we went through and all the fucked up shit she did and she still can’t leave me alone. I’ve done nothing to her.”
That manipulative cunt.
Harry didn’t like to use that word very often. Other than the obvious use when he was trying to degrade you. But there was simply no other word in the English language that summed up who Tracey was. Desperate? Yes. Annoying? Just the sound of her breathing had Harry gritting his teeth. But the only word that truly encompassed everything about her was cunt.
He had no idea that her being kicked out was because she was causing problems again. He assumed it had something to do with you because you were cheeky and sneaky at times, but he didn’t expect this. After everything that happened, he thought you guys were done with her.
“What the fuck? Fucking hell, y/n. Why didn’t you tell me?” He was getting a little frustrated at you now and you could see it in his expression. You just grabbed his hair and tilted his hair back, forcing his hair back under the water to rinse the conditioner out. Even though he was annoyed you didn’t tell him, he was still pliant to your touch and it took very minimal effort to maneuver his head.
“Because we just spoke about your family and my drama literally doesn’t matter compared to what you’re going through. I didn’t want to bother you and then I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
“Of course it matters.” He scoffed, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit by yourself. I thought she was dealt with, but clearly not. How long have you known?”
“I found out when my mum asked me about us. I had no idea anything was happening before that.”
“So… what? Tracey’s been running her mouth?”
“Basically.” You sighed, still running your fingers through his hair to get rid of the last bits of conditioner. “She hasn’t said anything directly, but she’s been making comments and saying random things that makes people think that we’re sleeping together. At least that’s what my mum said.”
“I don’t get why she’s doing this.” He sighed, “You’ve moved out and we’ve left her alone after everything that happened. She’s got no reason to come after us again.”
“Like I said, she’s a cunt.” Your words came out matter-of-factly, eliciting a roll of Harry’s eyes. “She’s probably bored and thinks that it’s easy to use me to have her fun because I’m not there to defend myself.”
“Bullshit. I’m there to defend you. Why isn’t she scared of me?” Harry scoffed, eliciting a laugh in response.
“Harry she’s obsessed with you and even if you blackmailed her and stomped all over her old wrinkly heart, she still wants you.”
“I didn’t stomp over anything. And I’m taking your old wrinkly statement as an insult.”
“Yeah right. You love being the ripe age of 39. ‘I get sexier with age, y/n’.” You quoted, attempting to mimic his low raspy accent. He raised a brow and immediately went for your sensitive spots, squeezing your waist with light twinkling fingers in an attempt to tickle you. “Stop!” You squealed, hitting his hands away. “Stop it Harry!”
“Admit I get sexier as I age. Admit it.” He threw back, wrapping one arm around your waist while using the other to tickle you.
“I hate you!” You tried to push his hand off, laughing and wiggling and squealing all at the same time. It didn’t help that you two were still very much naked. “Whatever. You’re sexier as you age.”
The tickling stopped instantly and Harry had this smug grin on his face, happy that he beat you. “Thank you.”
“You’re a child.” You rolled your eyes.
“Come on. Finish the story.” He laughed softly, looping his arms around your waist.
“I don’t even know what I was up to before your ego got bruised.”
He chose to ignore that statement. “You were explaining how obsessed Tracey is with me.”
“Oh, right. She’s obsessed with you so obviously she won’t be scared and she’s not threatened by me. She really didn’t think that I’d retaliate in any way even if I told her I would and now look at her. I think I handled it pretty fucking perfectly.” You announced proudly.
It felt a little evil to be so happy over someone elses pain. You had ruined Tracey’s life and yet you were satisfied. It felt justified. In the beginning you never wanted to use your threats against her. You just wanted to be left alone, even if that meant sitting on evidence that she was having an affair. Now though… you felt worse about keeping it a secret than using it to get back at her.
“I’d say so.” Harry laughed. “How did it all happen?”
“She goes to pilates on Sundays so I waited until she was gone and went over to speak with Oscar. All I did was tell the truth and show him one of the photos of her and Ethan. I felt really bad for him, actually. He believed me even before I showed him a photo but he still wanted to see it, probably for proof so he doesn’t have to pay her out.”
“Well shit.” Harry laughed, quickly turning you both around so you got some of the hot water. “He clearly didn’t take it well.”
You shook your head. “No. I could tell he was trying not to cry. I feel like I should’ve told him earlier.” You looked away for a moment, “it feels wrong to use one persons tragedy to get back at someone else. Like this is probably the worst thing to ever happen to him and I used it to get back at her. He doesn’t deserve that. Neither do his kids.”
“I know. The truth had to come out some way, though. It always does. Don’t blame yourself too much for it just because you benefited from it in some way. ” He grabbed your chin gently, guiding you to look back at him. “How did your mum react when you told her about us, anyway?”
You were glad he was switching back to your mum because you really didn’t want to dwell to much on Tracey of all people. Or the shittiness you felt.
“She already knew before Tracey started talking about us. She had this look on her face like she was waiting for me to outright say it.”
“Wow. Really?”
“Yeah… she said it was mother’s intuition or whatever. I’m surprised she waited this long to say something about it, to be honest. She usually can’t keep her mouth shut and she already had a glass of wine when we spoke about it.”
Harry smiled at your comment, smoothing his hands over your back. “Was she upset about it? What did she say?”
“We spoke about it for a long time. She wasn’t upset but not thrilled either. I told her how happy I am and a little bit about our relationship so far and she seemed happy that it’s going well, but she’s still worried. I think she’s worried about the age gap and… well, your reputation. She doesn’t want me to get hurt.”
You didn’t really want to go through the entire conversation with him. Nothing bad happened but it also felt like something that just you and your mum needed to know about. She gave you a lot of advice that made you feel lucky to have someone like her in your life. She was concerned but she actually listened to you, even when the conversation went a little wild, she listened to you and shared her own opinion as well. It went as well as you could’ve hoped.
“My reputation as in…”
“Your one night stands. Obviously, I assured her that she didn’t have to worry about it. She thinks you’re charming but I think that also scares her. You’re the first real relationship I’ve had and it’s not exactly conventional and… I don’t know.” You sighed, looking away for a moment, “She said that she hoped my first love would be someone my age, that I’d date more before feeling so strongly about someone.”
Harry didn’t like the sound of that. So far, your mum’s concerns were valid ones and ones he expected. He never thought it would be easy or something your parents would understand right away and he prepared himself for that. They weren’t much older than him so navigating his relationship with them and you would take time.
But he didn’t like the way those words came out of your mouth. That your mum hoped your first love was someone else and that you had more experience with other people before settling down. You two weren’t exactly planning for a baby or anything, it had barely been four months, and neither of you put any expectations on your relationship. You were young and he never imagined himself as the marrying type so you both just wanted to date and love each other and see how things evolved.
But you were still in it for the long haul with each other. This wasn’t a short term arrangement or something casual. You two loved each other.
For Harry, he had already experienced heartbreak in all forms and he had grown from that. The Harry that survived his very first love was a completely different person to now. It wasn’t the only thing that shaped him to be the man he was today, but it contributed a lot to his life. He was at a point in his life now where meeting you and falling in love with you had completely changed how he thought his life would go.
He wanted to settle down with you. He couldn’t picture a future without you in it and you made it very clear that you loved him more than anything and you wanted to have that future with him.
But you didn’t have what Harry had. You didn’t have years of making mistakes and meeting people and exploring yourself. Of figuring out who you are and what you want in life. You can do that with a partner and Harry knew he could show you the world and provide experiences you might not have if you were by yourself, but if you took the romance and his undying love for you out of the equation, would he encourage you to give your all to him?
If it were anyone else, he’d tell them to keep their options open and grab any opportunities given to them. Was he holding you back from that?
“Do you wish you did? Have more relationships before me?” He solemnly asked, brows knitted together while he waited your reaction.
That was a hard question to answer. But you had no regrets in dating Harry and that’s all that mattered. “In some ways, yes. I wish I had more experience in how to navigate even being in a relationship. But mostly no. There’s no one else I’d want to share my firsts with. In a lot of ways, you’re my first everything and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.” You cupped his face, running your thumbs under his cheeks. “Loving you is the happiest I’ve ever been and hopefully now, the people we love will be part of that too.”
Harry’s gaze softened and time seemed to still around you two. Having this conversation in such a vulnerable place like a shower only added to the intimacy of it all. You had a way of knocking the air out of his lungs. It happened with a look or a sigh, your gorgeous smile. And it definitely happened when you said things like this.
“I want to give you the world, y/n. I want to give you everything you want. You tell me and it’s yours.” He murmured, gazing deep in your eyes.
“I just want you.” You whispered, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really.”
His eyes flickered between yours as he tipped his head forward to rest his forehead against yours. His wet hair dripped down your cheek, running down your jaw and neck, all the way until it joined the water at your feet. “I just want you too. Always.”
You smiled and pulled his mouth down towards you, pressing your body against his to get impossibly closer to him. He wrapped his arms fully around you, squeezing you against him so every inch of your pretty soft skin melted into his. Your mouths blended into one, lips brushing together in a slow languid kiss.
His tongue slid across your bottom lip and you freely gave him access to your mouth so he could slip in and run his tongue against yours. God, everything about it was so sexy. The steam clouding over you both, how good your wet bodies felt pressed together… the way his cock started to harden against your thigh, unable to spring up in that way you loved due to how close you two were.
“I think…” You gasped, breaking free to run your mouth over his jaw. “You should finish your shower…” You pressed kisses in a path towards his ear, kissing his lobe once you got there before playfully tugging at it between your teeth. Harry whimpered in your ear, reaching down to squeeze your ass in both hands. “...and join me in bed.”
With that, you kissed his neck then unwrapped yourself from his arms, smirking as you slid past him to grab your towel. His hand snapped out suddenly, clasping around your wrist. “Don’t go.”
Harry looked like a starved man. His chest was heaving, cock heavy and hard between his legs and his lips all red and puffy from your kisses. You would’ve fucked him right there if shower sex didn’t scare the hell out of you.
“I’ll get you a towel.” You blew him a little kiss, ignoring the crazed look in his eyes and walking away. Oh did you love a tease.
It wasn’t long before Harry had you pinned to your bed, grinding his hips in slow deliberate strokes. Your entire love making was just that, making love. It was slow and deep, full of so many kisses you could barely breathe. His body was pressed heavy on top of you and he made sure you felt every inch of him that you could. Every inch of his cock, every inch of his heavy muscle and soft sweaty skin.
The window above your bed was still open, a clear view of the moon above your heads. It was a view you two decided was worth putting your pillows down by your feet when you were finished so you could lay the opposite direction and look outside. You had a nice view of the water, though it was particularly dark outside and the moon was so bright it took your entire process.
“I still can’t believe she knows.” Harry murmured, looking up from where his head rested on your chest.
“Who?” You whispered, missing the context of his comment, “My mum?”
“Mmh.” he nodded, looking down to where your hands were joined and resting on your stomach. “It feels… good. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like we’re moving onto the next step.”
“I feel the same. I feel better knowing she’s supportive. I had a feeling she would be, but it’s nice knowing I’ve got her on my side when we tell my dad.”
“Mmh.” He hummed in agreement, looking at the string of pearls around your neck. You put them back on after the shower and he found himself mesmerised by the way they twinkled under the moon light. “y’know I told my mum I was seeing someone. After our weekend away.”
“You did?” you frowned slightly.
“I didn’t say anything too personal or anything because we were keeping it quiet.” He assured, sensing the slight panic in your voice. “But I wanted her to know I have someone in my life who makes me happy.”
You smiled, that slight beat of worry completely gone. “What did you tell her about me?”
“Not much. Just your name and that you’re studying. I didn’t want to show her any photos without asking you. She gets a bit excited and I knew if I sent her something she’d tell everyone about it.” He rolled his eyes, but you could tell by his tone that he loved that quality about her. Pausing, he looked from the moon to you. “I think you’d like her.”
“She sounds like my type of gal.” You grinned, “I’m excited to meet her.”
“I think she’d cry if you said that. Happy tears of course.”
You laughed softly, swiping your fingers through his hair. It had dried down after the shower and your activities and became all fluffy and dishevelled. You loved it in its natural state.
“Would you like to meet her?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice soft so only you could hear it. There was no one in your apartment but you yet the moment was so intimate and quiet, he didn’t want to ruin it. “We could facetime?” He looked up at you, expression hopeful for your response.
“Harry I’d love that.”
“Really?” His eyes widened ever so slightly, like he was surprised you’d agree. “You would?”
“Of course I would.” You assured, smiling while dancing your fingers across his jaw. “Set it up. Whenever suits her.”
“Okay.” He grinned, reaching up to kiss you quickly before settling back down on your chest to look out at the moon, “I will.”
It felt so right and natural to take this next step. There were nerves about it, of course, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t scared that Anne wouldn’t like you or that you’d make a fool out of yourself. But you knew a decent amount about her and even if you didn’t, you knew you’d love her simply based off the fact you loved Harry. That was enough.
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ok but how about a dom reader whos always busy (workaholic and shi) x an always clingy n touchy sub yan.
like. reader is never at home. and when he finally come back ends up doesn't paying that much attention to yan, sayin 'im too tired' or going to his home office. eventually being followed by yan cause omfg poor boy is basically starving for a little bit of attention. he still declines yan's pleadings tho
then one day this man shows up earlier and completely EAGER for his yan. idk what more can i say. breeding? degradation? daddy kink? dumbification? what could happen when theyre feeling so fucking needy for each other?
(also i love your writing so so much!!!!!!! <3
workaholic male reader, clingy sub yandere ^ rambles. euugh
dumbification works w either imo, reader fucking lover til hes stupid while simultaneously fucking his lover stupid?!
amab//domtop reader/subbot yandere, cw;; breeding, daddy kink, dumbification xd wanna rework this into a more ,,, eloquent fic. soon. have been busy. i really liked this idea so. will do on my own soon.
workaholic you, growing super distant… obviously making your lover paranoid. because what if you're cheating on him? you aren't, of course - he knows that, but he cant stop those kinds of thoughts from popping into his mind…!!! humping your pillow to ease himself while ur at work, watching the camera feed of you in your office… sigh…. often hearing the dreaded words accompanied by a soft simple pat on his back - not even a kiss... "sorry... please, baby, not right now. i'm too tired." he sobs himself to sleep, knowing you're only providing for him,,,, it hurts!!!
all his worries wash away when you arrive home earlier than usual! concerned, but all the more happy to see you appear in the doorway of your home… breathing ragged, looking all dark and mysterious,,,, the mere sight of you looking all deranged makes him hot and bothered. ignoring the way his dick twitches to life, uhmㅡ
"honey? why are you home so early, sweetheart?” draping himself across your front in a very affectionate hug. he couldnt help himself-! and, much to his delight you were not pushing him awayㅡand practically throwing yourself onto him?!?! hh..h.hh...
there you were,,, grasping his face in your hands, pressing your lips against his so hungrilyㅡ “i need youㅡneed you. need you.” expressing your apparent neediness over and over as you bury your face in the crook of his neck ㅡ he was startled, but so fucking eager to comply? feeling the way your boner presses against him? you were that eager for him just as he is you???,,,,, he nearly faints. tearing up with a now raging erectionㅡ “please, baby, i need you - i need you reallyㅡreally badly-” so fucking happy as he completely smothers you in his love,,,
you don't need to tell him twice,,, throwing the front door closed…,,, leading him to the bedroom, covering his face in kissesㅡeven when there was a perfectly good couch right there to make love on. he won't complain,,,, hes gotten used to the null feeling of toys...,,, so, feeling the very loving embrace of your dick filling him up overstimulates him rather.,,, quickly!!! thinking about how truly awful you are to neglect this pretty litte thing, how could you? so, so very awful.
your darling little lover sobbing on your cock… he's so beautiful - experiencing his love and affection for the first time in forever? berating yourself for being so distant,,, pouring all your frustration at yourself into his flexing taut hole,,,, “mm-misssed you… s-so mu-uch daddy-!” he doesn't seem to catch what he just moaned… too drunk on the feeling of your cock pistoning in and out of him - it feels otherwordly?!
and, i mean. going along with it. with ease, because he deserves everything. especially, anything for your darling lover who just wants affection, your love!!! laughing breathlessly as you piston your hips against his, nuzzling your nose into the side of his head - peppering his face in kisses, “daddy's right here, sweet thing - n-never leaving again, y'hear?” it was… a little odd, but fitting. afterall, you're pumping load after load - breeding him. obviously you'd be the daddy in this situation…,,,,
#“clingy touchy yandere”#x male reader#x top male reader#x dom male reader#male reader#top male reader#dom male reader#yandere x male reader#yandere male x reader#sub yandere x male reader
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it's weird that you don't call out to jun when he comes into your apartment. jun knows that you know he was coming over at some point to spend time with you, and usually you greet him in some way when you hear the apartment door unlock. he's a little earlier than he planned, but you told him to 'come over whenever' and now he's a little worried that you didn't mean it. he quietly slips into the pair of slippers that stays here at your place, and makes his way further into your apartment to set down the bag of groceries he brought on your kitchen counter. your bedroom door is open, but the tiny room you use as a home office is open just a sliver.
he makes his way over, leaning in to listen for a moment... only to hear your voice. there's a little strain to it as you struggle through a sentence, and it clicks all at once: you're speaking chinese. albeit not very well (it's clear to jun that this is one-hundred percent new to you), but you're still trying. your pronunciation is a bit clumsy, but he can hear the way you try to use the right tone with what you're saying...
when did you start learning this much? jun had taught you little things in the past--the absolute basics, really, plus a few other little phrases that veer into his own cheesy need to hear you say sweet things--but this...? he steps back from the door. why hadn't you told him? you could have told him and he'd happily help you learn. but he trusts you: you must have your reasons to keep this a secret, so he won't push. he steps away, deciding to busy himself with getting ingredients put away--or set up for the two of you to cook together, in case you're hungry now.
then he knocks a cup into the sink, and immediately he hears you coming out of your office. relief crosses your face when you see it's just jun, and you lean against the open doorway.
"i didn't know you were here." you pause, and then he sees you get hit with realization. "... how long were you here?"
"i just got here," he says. it's technically the truth, isn't it? he's only been here for a few minutes. "were you working?"
you nod. "yeah. just had to answer a phone call," you lie to him, but he just nods and acts like he doesn't know that. you come up to his side, wrapping an arm around him. "is this for lunch?"
he leans over to you and presses a kiss against your cheek. "are you hungry?"
"mhm," you just snuggle in for a moment, enjoying his presence. "you should teach me more recipes you learned from your mom sometime."
jun finds himself smiling already. was that what this all was...? an attempt for you to understand him better? to show that you care for him so much that you want to know his culture, too? "i'd love to," he says softly, and wraps an arm around you to tug you closer to his side. "only if you teach me things you learned from your family, too."
then he'll make more efforts to understand you and your background, too. just to show you that he loves you as much as you love him.
#nonranghaes.thoughts#nonranghaes.svt#seventeen imagine#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt imagine#svt x you#jun x reader#wen junhui x reader#junhui x reader#jun fluff#junhui fluff#also im just gonna ramble for a second. if i ever get to the point where i feel more comfortable speaking..... god i wish id have a jun#to help me learn the language better. its been interesting to learn so far!!#i def need to start taking notes tho bc guess who cannot count <3#anyway i fucking love learning languages. inject tht shit directly into my veins.#yknow the post with all the pills w associated abilities??? id be downing the one that lets u speak all languages like. immediately
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fluffy bunny [ l.dh ]
pairings ⇢ haechan x afab!reader
word count ⇢ 3.3k
warnings ⇢ 18+, dom/sub dynamics, both haechan & reader are switches, pegging, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, strapless strap on, anal/rimming/fingering (male receiving), face sitting/riding, spanking, cum eating, snowballing/cum swapping, nipple play
nicknames ⇢ hyuck (baby, princess, bunny) / reader (daddy, baby)
playlist ⇢ espresso _ sabrina carpenter / sexy silk _ cumkitten / sugar rush _ bibi / want it all _ ashnikko
note ⇢ a wee bit obsessed with hyuck in the my melody jacket i can’t help it
masterlist
you’d been teasing him all day after waking up to him rutting against your thigh, hot breath puffing against your neck. you’d left him high and dry and extremely hard. pattering around the house in your my melody hoodie and his boxers sporting a damp patch of precum covering his hard member.
he’d come up behind you while you munched on your breakfast. fluff covered arms encircling your waist before grunting when he grinds against your ass.
“not yet baby,” you say calmly, tapping a finger on his hand.
“need you so bad.” his voice is light and airy when it hits your ears.
“wait a bit,” you say, turning to face him. “you can be patient, right princess?” he nods vigorously but you feel his cock pulsing against you, it’s sweet how needy he is.
“how long do i need to wait?” his eyes are big and pleading.
“hmm.” you tap his nose, thinking. “i dunno, maybe all day.” you smirk when he whines burying his head in your neck. you loved him when he got like this, needy and begging. he wasn’t normally like this; usually he was fighting you for dominance or winning the fight and taking control. but when he was like this, letting you take him how you wanted, it made your mind run wild.
he continued his horny begging game for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. you’d leave the room but watch around the corner to see him grind against his palm. stalking back over to him tutting at him for touching himself. he’d whine all over again hanging his head embarrassed but he still did it everytime.
“can i just touch it a little bit,” he mumbled, looking down at his cock while he lifted the hem of the hoody.
“not yet, told you to wait,” you replied, glancing at him over your phone. he stood in the doorway of your room. a glimpse of his tummy peaking out as he displayed his dirty boxers. you could tell he was painfully hard but that just made things more fun.
“hurts so much, need to cum,” he whined, wiggling his legs out of frustration as he stomped over to you.
“you keep working yourself up. look at the mess you made,” you nodded to his boxers. the patch of precum had grown slippery and wet over his slit.
“can’t help it,” he reached a finger down, swiping over the slick liquid. he brought the finger to his lips staring you down as he swirled his tongue lewdly tasting himself.
“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes at him.
“but you like it,” he says. he rutted his hips up proudly showing off his cloth-covered cock to you.
“do i?” you quirked a brow before swiftly flicking a finger over the head of his cock. he doubled over whining from the touch. he felt like he was on fire.
“take them off, you've already ruined them.” you told him. he looked up at you with those big brown eyes. he stood upright and tugged the fabric down his legs so fast you almost missed the bob of his heavy cock.
“can you touch me now?” he gripped the hem again so as to not touch himself.
“i just did.”
“no please, like really touch me. want you to touch me, daddy.” he was playing the same games you were. and he knew what calling you that would make you do.
and that’s what you were doing now, thoughts about the boy spread out in front of you, dark and debauched. you rubbed down his legs before bending his knees dragging your nails down the exposed backs of his thighs. he shivered under your touch moving his hands from the sheets to hold his legs open for you.
he squirmed, the hair on his forehead and hood framing his face. whimpers filled the room as your nails dragged over his soft thighs; goosebumps prickling in your wake. the sheets bunched under his fingers gripping and releasing rhythmically.
“good boy,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his hot skin. you slid your tongue against the skin before you pulled back and blew on the wet patch. he whimpered and choked when you bit at the flesh. sucking marks into his plush thighs, switching from right to left. bruises blossomed with bite marks littering against unblemished tan skin.
“please,” he mewled, just as your mouth hovered over his cock; hole on display for you.
“you’re so cute,” you muttered before dipping down to lap at his hole. he freezed whining long and loud the moment you made contact. his knuckles were white gripping to keep his legs up for you. you smirked, peaking up at him when you swirl your tongue. his eyes clamped shut but his jaw was slack, chest heaving from the lightest licks.
you sunk down deeper on the bed diving into him. hands smoothing over his tummy and hips making him relax under you. your tongue lapped at his rim and spit dribbled down his chin. prodding your muscle against his hole, you slipped your tongue inside. he whimpered above you, sweat trapping his hair to his forehead.
his sounds filled the room but your slurping was getting louder. your chin was wet and messy from slobber as you ate him out. his cock bobbed heavily, precum pooling onto his stomach with every flick of your tongue. curling the muscle inside him making him squirm. you couldn’t get enough of him, grinding against the bed, the plastic cock rubbing against your clit. moaning against him, the vibrations making his thighs shake around your head.
“you could cum just from my tongue,” you announced, pulling away from his slick hole. he whined, nails pressing into his skin.
you grinned down at him trailing a finger through the spit covering his rim. he shivered at the touch, his tummy swelled with wonder of what you would do next. reaching over him, tits falling into his face. his mouth chases you with his tongue out as you grab the bottle of lube on the nightstand.
releasing his thighs he moves quickly to grip your waist keeping you in place. suckling your nipple into his mouth making you mewl. you pet his head as he sucks and teases teeth over the hard bud. grinding down, he cries out when the faux cock rubs his untouched cock. his mouth falls open hot breaths against you as you continue moving.
“needy boy,” you smile leaning down to press your lips to his cheeks. the heat when you move away settling back between his legs.
he watches you intently, eyes following every movement as you pop the cap and squeeze the slippery substance on your finger. thumb rubbing against your finger warming the lube as your other hand pushes his legs back. whining when you slide a finger down his balls and over his perineum. your finger taps at his rim before pressing into him.
gasps fall from his lips as you curl your finger inside of him. slowly you begin moving your finger in and out. finding a steady pace, as you soothe your other hand over his shaking knees.
“oh my god,” he whines when you touch the spongy spot inside of him. you continue rubbing against the sweet spot that makes tears well in his eyes.
he wants to touch himself, you just know it. his hands reaching up before stopping himself by clenching his fists. his head spins with every flick of your wrist and it’s almost too much. the overwhelming desire to cum, bubbling in his tummy, but the burn of waiting feels so good.
“daddy,” he sobs when you push a second finger into him. his name for you lighting a fire in your chest. the need to please him overwhelmed you, making you flick your wrist faster. his knees quivered and toes curled as his clenching fist reached for you. obliging, you intertwined your fingers rubbing over his hand.
“want your cock,” he whimpered, tugging at your other arm that was still pumping into him.
“you think you’re ready?” cocking a brow at him. his face was tinted pink to match the fluffy hoodie he still wore. he nodded his head eagerly, brown locks bouncing with the hood. “beg.”
“need,” he moans, as you pull your fingers from him. puckering hole clenching around nothing politely asking for more. “you.” he finishes.
“want your cock.” he pauses, hand slithering avoiding his red cock. reaching down circling his own finger around his rim, head lolling back as he touches himself. “here. need you here.”
you stare as he pushes his own finger past his clenching hole he whines discontentedly. “ ‘s not enough.” sinking back on your heels you reach for the lube again. smothering the cock with it, you rut your hips fucking into your hands; thrusts match his fingers and he moans when he notices.
biting his lip watching you fuck into your fist. hyuck pulls his fingers out reaching up to press the button where the toy enters you. one click and a quiet buzz begins.
“fuck,” you groan. vibrations fluttering against your clit and filling your stretched cunt, clenching and sucking the toy in further.
“need you to feel it too, daddy,” he stared up at you longingly, a hand stroking the cock between your legs while his own bobbed heavily.
“such a sweet baby,” you coo, non sticky hand petting his head pulling the hood back up. the small bunny ears flop and frame his face. softly you push him back against the mattress and he lifts his legs for you.
“do not ruin this by cumming on it,” you say sternly pushing the hem of your hoodie up to his chest right beneath his nipples. he gulps and nods. the precum smeared over his stomach is just low enough to have avoided the fabric.
settling between him stroking your cock lining the head up with his hole. you reach to squeeze more lube over his balls watching it slip down over his hole before you press into him.
“daddy,” he garbles. you’re barely inside of him and his lashes are wet again. you press into him fully and he swallows all of you, hips chasing for more. you massage a hand around his balls as you begin to move your hips.
“so full,” voice raspy and soft.
“such a needy hole. begging for cock like a bitch,” you groan, squeezing the hand around him.
“your bitch,” he croaks. his words making you speed up fucking into him harsh and fast your thighs slapping against his.
“daddy’s little bitch, huh?” he nods erratically spit dribbling out of his mouth as you thrust particularly deep. “gonna make you a tshirt, baby.” you tease.
your hands roam his skin gripping it when your toy pulses perfectly inside of you. it makes your hips jerk and brush the head of the cock just so that his toes curl.
“soooo good,” he moans. the hem of the jacket drifts up as you thrust into him. tan skin peaking out deliciously. he cries when the stiff hem scrapes his nipples.
“aww baby,” you coo. “so sensitive.” you tug the material so it rubs against him again.
“is too much,” he mumbles, reaching to move the fabric but you stop him.
an evil smile graces your lips when you see his cock pulse. leaning over him, keeping rhythmic movements. unbuttoning the bottom clasp and flipping the material to see his brown nubs. you drag a finger around the skin and somehow it hardens more.
“no please. i’ll - it - i’ll cum,” he whines pathetically.
“well i guess you have to control yourself,” teasing him as you continue to fuck into him. his knees are drawing together and the fire in his belly already big and bright and he knows this will be the end. the moment you touch his nipples it will all spill out of him like a dam.
“can’t, daddy please,” he sobs. he’s such a sight, with tears on his flushed cheeks, pink bunny ears surrounding his face. his lip quivering with every drag of your hips. one hand weakly gripping your wrist the other still attempting to hold his legs back. it’s all you at this point and you can feel his knees spasm in your hands.
“don’t cum,” you whisper. he jolts when your fingers pinch the bud. the small of his back arching off the bed and cock bouncing up. he shudders doing his best to keep his orgasm from bubbling over.
“shit shit, daddy,” escapes his throat as you roll the nub in your fingers.
“aww princess don’t cum yet,” you tease. flicking his nipple with a devilish grin. he sobs cock jerking up, ready to spill.
“please daddy, was so good. i’m patient. waited all day.” he begs but it comes out garbled. each thrust into him has him choking on his words and your own pleasure builds in your stomach.
“you were very patient weren’t you,” he nodded in response.
“it’s gonna all come out, please. can’t help it,” he sniffles. you take pity on your cock drunk princess. pinching his nipple again before releasing it and he sighs in both relief and disappointment.
you don’t let him linger on it using both hands to push his legs open and back. fucking into him roughly, little whimpers spilling out of his mouth. his eyes are shut focusing on holding himself back. it gives you the chance to sneak your head over his chest before you tongue at his overly sensitive nipple.
“no no, unuhn, no,” he pleads. you just look up at him mischievously.
“cum for daddy.” you mutter against his skin. closing your lips around the nub teeth grazing it making him cry out.
“ffffuck,” he shakes, orgasm sweeping over him. you pull back to watch. his hips rutting as cum shoots up over his chest in thick ropes. the hot white in his belly doesn’t stop while you continue the motion of your hips. every drag spurting more cum onto his tummy up to his nipples. he’s such a sight, a thick layer of sweat over his entire body, eyes rolled back with a wide open mouth. you slow down as his hips jerk dryly.
“so good for me,” the praises pour from your lips like water. “you did so well.” he sighs, looking up at you peacefully and sleepily.
“you fuck me,” voice rough and gravely as he pauses when you pull out of him. “so fucking good.” he whines as he clenches emptily.
“you came so much for me,” your finger trails in his cum collecting it on your fingers drawing crude hearts with it. he grabs your wrist and lifts your fingers to his lips. you curse as he swirls his tongue around tasting himself.
“you’re so nasty,” you murmur, before leaning down and slurping over his chest. tongue collecting his cum into your mouth.
it’s gross and messy when you lift your head cum swirling in your mouth before tugging his jaw down and opening his mouth. his tongue hangs out waiting for your delivery. slowly, you part your lips cum dribbling down and onto his tongue as he laps at your lips. pressing your lips to his swapping the cum between your lips with lewd slurping sounds.
the kiss is deep and hot, his lips moving in tandem with yours. when you pull away spit and cum connect your lips and it has gathered on the corner of his mouth.
you gasp when he grabs your hips harshly tugging you to him.
“lemme do you now,” he rasps, winding a hand between you to turn off the slowly pulsing toy. you moan into his mouth when he pulls it from your cunt. slick spreads over the toy as he glides it between your lips and over your clit. he pulls it up staring into your eyes as he takes the toy in his mouth moaning as he tastes you.
“taste so fucking good come here,” he groans tossing the toy aside and leaning back as he tugs you up his body. you look at him confused and he just rolls his eyes continuing to pull you over his body.
“if you don’t sit on my face i’ll cry,” he announces.
“you were crying so prettily ten minutes ago,” you giggled, but the hand slapping your ass shuts you up. you shimmy over his chest, looking down for confirmation and he nods happily and pushes you to rest on his face.
“fuck, i can die here,” he mutters against your thigh before licking over your cunt. you groan when his tongue flicks on your clit. his hands creep around your thighs to pull you even closer to him as his mouth engulfs you. hot breath puffing as he sucks your clit into his mouth.
“holy shit,” you whimper, looking down to see him already looking back at you. menacing eyes peeking from beneath you and the bunny ears still lay on the top of his head.
skilled flicks of his tongue leave you quivering over him, tummy flipping. you can already feel the pleasure coming closer, building over the time you spent inside of him. now his tongue is prodding inside of you, pressing firmly into your hole. you want to roll your hips, bounce against his wet muscle but shyness overtakes you. it’s like he notices, trying to hold you closer to him and lifting his head to press his nose against your clit, but he pulls away not even a second before you can feel him.
“i want you to ride my face, not hover, not even sit. fucking grind on my tongue.” his voice comes out wet and hoarse, before he tugs you down on him. you listen this time rolling your hips with his tongue. groaning out, you reach for his hair tugging at the messy curls. he continues lapping at your cunt, sloppy and messy, lewd slurping fills your ears.
the hot burn in your belly washes over you and you can’t stop your hips from jerking against his hot mouth.
“so close,” you moan out. his hand snakes around your stomach reaching for your nipples, twisting and tugging the bud in his fingers.
“cum on my face,” it comes out garbled and even sexier than any other time he’s told you. the heat floods you as you cum, mouth wide, silent moans trying to slip out. his tongue stays on your swollen clit, movements continuing even as you shake against him. pleading whimpers begging him to stop going unheard.
“too much,” you squirm over him but he grips your hips tighter, sucking you into him. your orgasm barely fading before he’s pushing you into another, tears welling in your eyes. the feeling of his hot mouth was too much, you felt surrounded by him and you couldn’t escape the pleasure. you lifted onto your knees weakly trying to pull away and he released you, mouth ghosting over you as you pulled back.
“swear your pussy is the 8th wonder of the world.” he peers up at you, the lower half of his face is shiny with your juices and his spit. but he looks so pretty. “taste so good.” he says, dragging a finger over you making you shake again. he swirls it in his mouth moaning at the taste.
“fuck, no more,” you whine attempting to roll off of him.
“i feel like you deserve a taste of your own medicine,” he grins, watching settle on the bed. you keep your legs apart not wanting any pressure on your cunt.
“you act like you didn’t love it.” you roll your eyes as he sits up on his elbow. the hood is falling slightly but the bunny ears still flop cutely around his head.
“i did, i do. but i love being mean to you.” he pouts quickly, slapping a hand over your exposed cunt. you groan, throwing your head back as the sting fills your lower half.
“hate you.”
“who me,” he fakes, shocked. “your little fluffy bunny?”
“such a pretty fluffy bunny,” you coo petting his hood and playing with the bunny ears.
© tddyhyck
taglist ⇢
@kyydreamies7 @apuppygirlfriend @puduwhore @haechansbbg @noonaisreading @elleluvstaegyu
#haechan smut#hyuck smut#donghyuck smut#haechan x you#haechan x y/n#haechan x reader#nct smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut
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introducing... bitchy reader!
rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.
so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.
you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.
“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”
“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”
“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.
“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth.
you nearly sound like rafe.
“that is so rude-”
“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”
“what truth?” his sister questions.
“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”
rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter.
“hey! i’m not bored-”
“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”
“he has other hobbies! like-”
“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”
“shut up.”
“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing.
“i’m not gonna change my mind-”
“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.
“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”
“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”
“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.
“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.
“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.
“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.
“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”
blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.
“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.
“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”
“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.
“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.
“no. no, i-”
“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”
“hey, kid, i-”
“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.
“so have you?” you pause, turning again.
“have i what?”
“made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”
“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.
“that’s not an answer.”
“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.
“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.
“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.
rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.
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Random things in Blue Lock I find endearing:
-> Barou looking after Nagi
This was cute, you know. I mean, Barou was the one who first scolded Nagi for swimming in that bathtub, but he is also the one taking care of him—you getting me? It's a small thing, I know, but it's really cute!
-> Rin accepting Hiori's help
With the way Rin was shown till that point, I was actually scared for Hiori because I thought Rin was going to shook off Hiori by saying, "Fuck off!" Like, it just seems very plausible for his character, but then he surprised me!
Just look at him allowing Hiori to help him up by his arms! I understand that many will think that I've gone crazy, but this is one of those things where if you know, you know.
–> Barou throwing Nagi
I snorted at this panel. Like, before this panel, we can see that Isagi literally has his hand around Barou's nape, but no, Barou has to throw Nagi only, it got to be Nagi—if that doesn't sum up their relation, I don't know what will.
–> IGA-DA-GOAT-GURI and Goatmaru
When Isagi's name was suddenly called and he got startled which cracked them up. I just absolutely loved the above panel—so adorbs‼️
-> Sae being Sae
I really haven't seen anyone talk about what he said above—even I seemed to have overlooked his words. It seems so bittersweet that when Sae gave validation to Isagi, he mentioned Rin too like, "He saw through your instincts too." Almost as if it were some kind of necessary requirement for someone to shine in his eyes.
Like, in simple words, "You looked through my little brother's instinct too? Now that's some good shit!"
It's kinda a subtle way of Sae giving Rin validation too like, "He is a solid player! How I know? Oh because he saw through your gameplay."
Sweet.
-> Ubers
Lorenzo especially. Like, just look at him! I don't need to say anything more!
-> Silly Boy
I wanna squeeze his face!!!! AAAAAA!!
And he is supposed to be the ace of the national team???? Like, look at that face, I will never be intimidated by such a cutie patootie. He deserves so many smooches!
-> Little Brother
Aww. Just, awwwwwwww.
Head pats is my own love language too, so seeing this made me melt, and to be honest, Niko is Blue Lock's little brother! It just makes sense to think like that.
#blue lock#bllk#barou shouei#nagi seishiro#itoshi rin#hiori yo#igarashi gurimu#gagamaru gin#itoshi sae#don lorenzo#sendou shuto#mikage reo#niko ikki#雪 ranting
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My Beautiful Girls
~ Cassian x Single!MumReader
Summary: An anxious Cassian meets your daughter for the first time.
Warnings: Fluffy goodness
Notes: For the ultimate Cassian girly @sarawritestories
"Hi, I'm Cassian. It's nice to meet you!"
The Illyrian General smiled crookedly as he spoke, clammy hands trembling around the flowers trapped within his steel-like grip.
"Fuck . . . fuck . . . Come on Cas, you can do better than that."
Slowly unfurling his wings, Cassian lightly shook them in the hope of brushing away his steadily growing nerves.
"Breathe Cas, breathe" the male exhaled deeply, rolling back his tense shoulders before locking his determined eyes onto the closed door in front of him, "Hi, I'm Cassian! I've heard so much about you!"
A groan of frustration tore from Cassian's lips, shoulders slumping in dejection as he miserably dropped the flowers to his side.
Cassian had seen his fair share of carnage, having stared death in the face a plethora of times and still lived to tell the tale. Yet no battle, nor life-threatening experience, could have prepared him for the terror he felt in this moment.
The great Lord of Bloodshed riddled with fear at the prospect of meeting your sweet little girl, so only for her not to like him.
It was almost laughable, thinking back to how confident he was when you had first brought up the topic of him meeting your daughter. Cassian recalled flashing you a toothy grin, eyes bright and laugh carefree as he promised you that all children loved him. He was, after all, Nyx's favourite uncle.
Yet now, standing before the door to your home, Cassian wondered if he would ever find the courage to enter. Every possibility as to how this introduction could go wrong festered in the male's worrisome mind, until his poisonous thoughts left his wings twitching with the desire to fly away and hide from his fears.
But Cassian couldn't bring himself to flee, not if it meant losing you.
So here he stood, the icy winter air uncomfortably nipping at his wind-kissed cheeks, rehearsing exactly what it was he would say to your daughter when he first met her. Seeking to gain back some control in the face of his uncertain future.
Adamant that he would not be the one to ruin the one good thing in his life, Cassian drew in a long shaky breath before trying again, "Hi sweetheart, I'm so glad I get to finally meet you."
"Right back at you gorgeous"
If the sight of the Illyrian General practicing a mental script to recite to your five year old daughter didn't bring you to the brink of laughter, seeing the way he startled at your sudden appearance did.
Cassian stumbling backwards as you pulled open your door to great him, cheeks flushing a deep rouge as though you had just caught him in a compromising position.
It was only once your laughter had subsided, and the low grumblings of embarrassment from the male's lips had ceased, were you then able to greet him. Your warm lips coming to meet his own frozen ones in a soft kiss, the action working to further deepen Cassian's flustered blush.
An impatient shout from inside pulled you from your kiss, a light chuckle leaving both of your lips as you quickly glance inside to where your daughter was waiting, "She's been talking about this all day you know? I've never brought anyone home to meet her before, she's really excited."
Your gaze falls to Cassian who was drawing in deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Concern pooling in your eyes as you watched how his lips were stretched into an anxious smile which failed to meet his eyes.
"Hey, there's nothing to worry about," you reassured your partner, moving a soothing hand to rest against his cheek, "she'll love you just as much as I do."
Appreciation swam in Cassian's eyes, a soundless thank you falling from his lips before he raised a bouquet for you to take. Or rather two bouquets.
"For you and Evelyn" he nervously mumbled, awkwardly shuffling his feet as he waited for you to take the flowers, "I wanted to get her something nice but . . . I'm not actually sure what five year old's like."
"They're beautiful Cas" you spoke, tears of joy lined your eyes at the male's generosity as you placed a gentle kiss onto his cheek in thanks.
"Are you ready?" you asked whilst stepping aside, making space for Cassian to squeeze himself through your doorway, the male having to curl his wings in tightly in order to fit through the smaller entrance.
"Come on, bat boy. It's time for you to meet your new best friend."
Placing the flowers down onto a nearby console, you led Cassian through your home, softly calling out to Evelyn as you approached the room she was playing in, "Evie, there's someone here to see you."
The sound of tiny feet padding across the floor followed your words, Cassian curiously moving his gaze to the entrance of the room as he waited for your daughter to emerge.
Only his eyes didn't quite catch her face as the small girl barrelled right into the skirt of your dress, shyly hiding within the flowing material of your skirt. "Come on Eves" you encouraged warmly, a tender hand coming to rest against her back, "Aren't you going to say hello?"
A little head tentatively peered over the fabric of your dress, Evelyn's eyes widening as she took in Cassian's wings which imposingly filled the space of your corridor. The nervous girl squeaked a small hello in the General's direction before moving to hide behind the safety of your body once more.
Worried that his wings were too intimidating, Cassian drew them in tightly, bending his knees in order to lower himself to Evelyn's level before greeting the shy girl, "Hi Evie, I'm Cassian." The male allowed a bright smile to cross his face as he watched your daughter's curious eyes peer over the skirt of your dress at his introduction, "Your mum has told me everything about you."
Wanting to aid Cassian who was growing increasingly panicked at the prospect of having to break the ice with your timid daughter, you bent down to speak to her, "How about we go into the room so you can show Cassian your toys hmm?" With a sheepish nod, Evelyn takes your hand, hesitantly moving out from behind your skirt in order to lead you into the living room.
Cassian followed suit, standing from his crouch before moving to the door, only to be unpleasantly surprised upon discovering he was unable to fit through the small wooden frame. His large wings blocking him from entering the room.
Curling them in tighter, the male tried again, attempting to walk into the room once more only to be stopped by the thud of his wings against either side of the doorframe. Just as a frustrated curse was about to tumble from Cassian's lips, a melodic laugh pulled him from his anger.
And Cassian could have sworn it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.
There stood Evelyn, in the middle of your living room, clutching her stomach as she laughed to her hearts content at Cassian's unfortunate situation.
It was impossible for him to be angry, Cassian's brows unfurrowing at the beautiful sound of her laughter, a deep chuckle of his own breaking from his mouth as he watched the young girl giggle. Love already growing in his eyes as Cassian wished to bottle the sound of her joy.
"Evie," you started in-between your cackling, "Why don't you help poor Cas get in?"
It took all his effort for Cassian not to melt when Evelyn padded over to him, cheeks still rosy from her laughter, and held out a tiny hand for him to take.
Making sure to move his wings into a position that would enable him to enter the room, Cassian took Evelyn's hand which was dwarfed by his own, allowing the girl to pull him into the room.
"My hero" Cassian sweetly grinned, crouching down to place a delicate kiss onto the back of your daughter's hand, "Either I'm going to need some smaller wings or your mum's going to have to get a bigger door."
Another round of giggles fell from Evelyn's lips at his words, her little hand still tucked into Cassian's palm, the girl shaking her head as she quietly spoke, "I like your wings just the way they are."
"Thank you" Cassian replied with a smile, cheeks dusting with a pink blush at her sweet compliment. "I like your dress" he replied, coming to lightly poke Evelyn's button nose which earned him an excitable squeal from the girl before her face adorably scrunched into a picture of curiosity.
"Can . . . can I touch them?" Evelyn shyly asked. Her question being met with sounds of protest from you, knowing just how sensitive Illyrian wings can be. Yet Cassian's answer surprised you, the male telling the girl yes without even an ounce of hesitation.
"Here" he softly spoke, taking Evelyn's hand which was still wrapped in his own and moving it towards a spot on his wing he knew wasn't as sensitive as the others.
Not wanting Cassian to feel obliged to do this just to keep your daughter happy you protested once more, "Cas you don't have to-"
"I don't mind sweetheart"
And as Evelyn's hand came to lightly press against the membrane of his wing, Cassian couldn't stop the spark of joy he felt at seeing the young girl smile. Knowing in his heart that despite this being their first introduction, the General would do anything and everything within his power to ensure your daughter's happiness.
It took everything in you not to cry at the sight of Cassian sating your daughter's curiosity. At the dazzling smile which was painted across his face as he looked at Evelyn with such love. A type of love you had only hoped she would one day get to experience, the love that only a father could provide.
“Can I mama? Can I please?” Evelyn’s begging voice broke you from your thoughts.
“Can you what sorry sweetheart?” You ask, wondering exactly what it was that left your daughter so eager for an answer.
“Can we go flying? Please, please, pleaseeee.”
Cassian grinned at you wickedly from behind where Evelyn was stood, shrugging his shoulders as he mimicked your daughter’s pleading tone, “Please mama, we promise we’ll be good!”
As you flatly stared between Cassian’s smirking face and Evelyn’s equally mischievous smile you silently cursed yourself, scoffing in disbelief at the fact Cassian had known your daughter for under an hour and had already pulled her into his troublesome ways.
Praying to the mother for the strength you are going to need for the restless days ahead.
It had been an evening to remember for Evelyn, Cassian having been more than willing to occupy her until the late hours of the night. Bed-time forgotten as the two of them played and played until Evelyn was no longer able to keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried.
Your daughter sprawled across yours and Cassian’s lap as the three of you cuddled on the sofa. It didn’t take much longer for you to follow suit and join Evelyn in her dreaming, eyes drifting closed as Cassian’s warmth pulled you into an inviting slumber.
Cassian was more than content to sit and watch the two of you sleep, lip curling at the soft snores which escaped from Evelyn’s mouth.
And as Cassian lay there with the two of you safely tucked within the sanctuary of his arms, he wondered if this was what he had been missing all of his life. For being here, surrounded by the small family you had built for yourself, Cassian could have sworn that his heart had grown two sizes bigger.
So as he stayed awake, scared of missing out on a single moment, Cassian whispered into the silence of the night. A hushed prayer for whoever was listening.
“Thank you” a soft smile graced his lips, “For bringing me my beautiful girls.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes: Ahhhh I love them so much 🥹
If you want to see any more of them and have an ideas for what it is you want please do feel free to send in some requests because I totally wouldn’t mind writing more about this little family 🥹
#acotar#fanfic#acotar imagine#sarah j maas#a court of thorns and roses#cassian oneshot#cassian fic#cassian imagine#cassian x reader#cassian
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Your Ride, Best Trip
Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time
Word Count: 9,001
Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit
Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing
Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3
A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time
Marcus Pike is perfect.
He’s your dream man.
He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.
He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place.
He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees.
He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally.
See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit.
How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own.
So you asked him what was up, and he told you.
Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it.
You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.
After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.
You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too.
And then he finally kissed you.
It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight.
You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things.
But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.
You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him.
It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt.
You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing.
His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow.
When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore.
You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training.
“Sweetheart—”
His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager.
“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated.
But it’s fine. He’s so worth it.
You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed.
“What do you want?”
His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in.
“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.”
But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine.
“You’re lying.”
You sigh and close your eyes.
“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.”
You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty.
“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers.
It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—
“I have a small dick.”
His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.
He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment.
“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?”
He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction.
“Marcus…”
“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“
“Marcus.”
You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.
“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?”
He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little.
“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs.
You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation.
Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not.
“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him.
He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his.
“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”
“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?”
He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead.
“Everyone?”
You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you.
He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up.
“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”
He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at.
“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?
All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”
He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you?
“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.”
There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze.
“Really?”
You scoff.
“Really really.”
A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth.
“Why?”
“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”
His face flushes, but he lets you continue.
“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”
“Me too,” he whispers.
“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”
You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine.
“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah… For one, your hands.”
“My hands?”
He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment.
“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”
He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back.
“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”
He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.
“And I love to give head.”
“Jesus.”
“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”
He says your name again, this time with a warning tone.
You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted.
“You’re not lying.”
His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again.
“Fuck.”
It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs.
“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.”
That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth.
His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you.
You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction.
You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long.
Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs.
You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt.
Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking.
But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved.
He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice.
“I think about you, too. All the time.”
You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest.
“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?”
Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter.
“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”
Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod.
He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience.
His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt.
“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?”
The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss.
“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”
You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head.
He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you.
He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before.
“Marcus—”
“I know, I know.”
His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers.
“Can I?”
You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch.
“Oh, are you that sensitive?”
His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck.
“It’s just you.”
And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief.
And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans.
“So sweet, huh?”
You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess.
He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips.
“That’s all for me?”
There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.
But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again.
He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip.
“Can I take these off, sweetheart?”
The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you.
“Yes, please.”
He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes.
Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs.
You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face.
It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control.
“You sure you’re ready?”
You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.
“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”
He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him.
The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest.
He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels.
His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.
“You’re soaked.”
His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest.
The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure.
Oh, he’s fucking good at this.
There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else.
You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding.
“That feel good, sweetheart?”
Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers.
“You have no idea.”
He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face.
“I think I do,” he mumbles.
He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side.
You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles.
All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself.
You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together.
Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing.
But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids.
You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours.
“That’s it. This what you needed?”
A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.
He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder.
“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?”
You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs.
You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction.
He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants.
“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.”
You huff.
You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it.
Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours.
“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe.
He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.
He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs.
He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out.
All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation.
The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again.
Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you.
All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold.
Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs.
A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever.
His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep.
“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.”
You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust.
His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there.
It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake.
“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.”
To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping.
All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue.
As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him.
His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him.
He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach.
Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers.
His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that.
And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is.
You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him.
Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat.
“So… How’d it compare?”
Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question.
“Pardon?”
But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them.
“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?”
You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up.
“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are.
He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs.
You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs.
“Better,” you whisper.
You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back.
And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver.
You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips.
You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants.
He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension.
His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little.
But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard.
But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up.
“Will you let me suck it?”
All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods.
“Please.”
It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction.
He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants.
You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough.
So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go.
Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you.
You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel.
He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock.
His little cock.
It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess.
And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing.
You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.
When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this.
You’ll make him look, one way or another.
For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention.
He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head.
And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth.
It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him.
You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show.
You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to.
Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens.
“Fuck, sweetheart.”
Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more.
You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool.
It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere.
You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock.
“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”
Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself.
He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds.
He says your name.
You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls.
He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked.
“Sweetheart, stop, please.”
You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face.
“Are you okay?”
He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face.
“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”
“Marcus.”
His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question.
“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”
He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face.
“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”
His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe.
“Yeah? You still want it?”
His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek.
“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.”
You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away.
“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?”
You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later.
For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.
The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body.
He’s so hot.
It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation.
“Please,” you whisper.
He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed.
“Perfect, sweetheart.”
He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit.
“Are you ready?”
You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling.
You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time.
You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.
“Oh fuck.”
You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense.
“Fuck, Marcus, please.”
You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you.
He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him.
But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles.
And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm.
“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out.
Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh.
“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”
A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it.
“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”
You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display.
“Yes ma’am.”
Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up.
He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist.
His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you.
But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them.
His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.
Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.
“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?”
Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit.
“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”
His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight.
Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy.
There’s screaming.
You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts.
“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”
“In me.”
Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene.
His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks.
He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps.
His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair.
“Jesus,” he says.
Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again.
“Huh?”
God, how are you ever going to move again?
“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”
Christ, why is he using such big words?
“What are you talking about?”
He clears his throat.
“You like— You squirted?”
You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly.
“I what?”
You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright.
“Yeah, like, a lot.”
He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out.
You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.
“What?”
“Why do you seem so surprised?”
His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver.
“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”
He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees.
He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you.
You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body.
He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body.
“Hi,” he whispers.
You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.
It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high.
Both of your breathing seems even, when you part.
“That was—”
“It’s never—”
You both chuckle.
“Ladies first.”
You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach.
“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”
You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do.
“It’s never been that good.”
A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest.
It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?
You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth.
“When can we go again?”
#Pedro pascal#Pedro pascal x reader#Pedro pascal smut#Pedro pascal fanfiction#Pedro pascal characters#x reader#marcus pike#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike smut#the mentalist
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Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? With him being the team principal for Merc, it was expected that she would also support the team and she did. But, she was and still a tifosi at heart and everyone knows it. So when Carlos wins the Australian GP and Charles P2, she sang her heart out during the national anthem was being played. He could see how much she loved the team and he wouldn't want her to stop supporting it. Because he always knew, whatever happened she would stick by his side no matter what. Just something fluff and sweet. Thanks!! :)))
okay, this is short, but the bachelor fic is really long, but im trying to empty my inbox while writing it, so, a little short :)
Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.
also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better
and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)
toto wolff x female!wife!tifosi!reader
“And um, while we’re on light hearted topics, moving on from Carlos’ miraculous recovery, i do just want to bring up Y/N Wolff, was at today’s race, obviously horrible race for Mercedes, and we really did think she would be quite upset by it, but um, she was later spotted in the Ferrari crowd.” Damon Hill said, trying to avoid getting trampled in the Australian paddock
“Yeah, it was a little odd, we did ask a couple of Mercedes mechanics that we ran into, and they all seemed to know what we were talking about and they all had these knowing smiles, and Shov even quoted Seb saying ‘everyone is a ferrari fan. Even if they say they are not, they are a ferrari fan’ so very odd things going on in the Mercedes garage.” Paul di Resta mentioned
“Let’s um, let’s cut to the footage so you know what we’re talking about.” Damon Hill pointed at the screen.
The Sky broadcast cut to a past shot from the podium. The shot was pretty simple, Y/N standing in her Mercedes shirt, standing out in the sea of red and orange shirts. The anthem and the Italian engineers made it difficult to hear, but her body language and the fact that she was mouthing the words to the Italian National Anthem, with her arm around Fred’s shoulder, swaying side to side.
The camera then panned to Toto, who had an adorable look on his face. It had obviously been a horrible weekend for Mercedes, but he had a grin on his face as he watched Y/N cheering for ferrari. Multiple mechanics were calling out his names as he gazed at his wife looking at the ferrari boys.
“Damn he’s whipped, i think that’s what all the kids are saying these days.” Paul di Resta said
“And speak of the man himself, hey Toto. Got time for a chat?” Damon Hill called out to the tall Austrian, as he walked past. Toto nodded and grabbed a microphone.
“Toto, we obviously saw your wife celebrating the ferrari 1-2, should we be concerned that she is leaving you to join Lewis at Ferrari?” Paul di Resta asked
“No, not at all, whatever happens, I have faith that my wife will stick by my side no matter what. I also don’t think she finds the guys with no hair attractive, so better luck next time Fred.” Toto shrugged before wandering off, probably to find his wife.
--
taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206
#f1 x reader#miloformula123fan#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff fic#toto wolff#toto wolff x female reader#toto wolff x you#toto wolff x y/n
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“Meet me at the highest heaven” [ King!Aegon!Targaryen X Sister!Wife!Reader ]
Warnings: anxiety, aegon is going to Rook's Rest,Incest, mention of war and death, No use of y/n, swearing,(m receiving),erotic lactation.
Summary: Aegon is going to the battle. And now you feel like your heart will be torn apart at any moment. Will you be able to say goodbye to him?
'The true king is the king who leads his battles himself' The famous quote in the world. Which you've heard hundreds of times. But you did not think that your husband would apply the phrase himself. You are still in pain over the murder of your eldest son.
You still haven't forgotten what happened.. You still haven't forgotten how you lost two children in one night. It was like a nightmare.. you hoped you would wake up soon and find yourself in bed with your husband. as a prince and princess.
The weight of your titles weighs heavily on your shoulders. You hoped it was a joke or something but it never was.. Your husband has already entered the game of thrones and getting out of that game is not as easy as entering it.
You were in your room, combing your silver locks, lost in your thoughts then you heard your doors open and there was the new hand of the king. “My queen”. His voice was polite and firm.
“Yes sir criston? ”. You let the comb from your hand and turned to see him standing there close to the big door of your chambers. “His grace requested your presence in his own chambers”. he replied to you.
You nodded and got up from your chair to leave the room. The knight led the way for your husband's chambers. you can't help but feel worry about what will happen next.You don't know what's causing this feeling, but you ignore it for now at least.
The guard opened the door for you and stopped outside the room. You entered the room and your gaze fell directly on him he was standing there in full armor. You swallow and take steps closer to him.
He looked at you and didn't speak yet. There was a silent moment between you two, just letting your eyes speak for you. He meets you with a warm smile on his lips you couldn't help but feel small tears wet your cheeks.
When he opens his mouth to speak, you don't let him but you rushe to him and embraces him hardly. The feel of steel on your skin doesn't bother you at all.He hugged you back he moved your hair away from your bare shoulders and placed his head there to inhale your scent.
One of his hands was gently stroking your hair and the other was tight around you. He broke the silence between you two with a little joke to lighten the mood “Is my queen trying to seduce me with this dress now?” He cocked his head and looked at you with a smile.
You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly “Shut up”. he chuckled with you then he wiped away the remnants of your tears and looked into your eyes.
“Don't cry my queen I won't leave you alone in this world I swear”. He lifted your chin with his thumb so you could look at him. He can see the coming tears from your eyes So he presses a kiss between your eyebrows.
“Do you really have to go?”. The words escaped your trembling lips. You cannot afford another loss and it's not any loss A piece of you. “I'm afraid I do, my love it's my duty to protect my kingdoms...to protect you”.
He tucked your silver locks behind your ears and looked at your eyes sweetly. He may be a king but your tears make him the weakest thing you could ever imagine. He hugged you to his chest again and his arms caress your shoulders and your bare back.
“I want to go with you”. You break the hug and look at him. He cups your cheeks and sighs “No, you will stay here I won't let my queen go the battle”.
“Aegon-” He interrupts you and places his thumb on your lips “No objections You're not going anywhere”. He looked at you in the eye and spoke softly. He was serious, he didn't want to put his wife in danger.
You pulled away from him and turned to give him your back. He sighed at your stubbornness and spoke in a sweet, low tone “Is this how you will say goodbye to me?”.
“This is not a farewell. You will return to me against your will ”. You gently wipe away your tears with the palm of your hand. he chuckled and talked to tease you “I can't promise I'll come back alive”.
You turn around again, with a frown on your face. he chuckles when he sees your face. “This is not funny aegon! ”
He wipes away the tears of laughter and approaches you again. You try to move away again but he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.He presses his lips to yours forcefully His kisses were desperate and intense. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you hard.
He bit your lower lip until you opened your mouth slightly so he could insert his tongue inside. you gladly opened your mouth slightly and your tongue joined his with an elaborate dance. When he pulled away from you, you were both panting heavily.
He rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. You closed your eyes and sighed then you spoke in a low tone “Come back safe”. you whispered in his hear. He smiled at you and replied, “I will.” He holds you tightly and whispers into you ear, “Be strong, love, I'll be home before you know it...”He kisses your shoulder softly.
“Come back to me one piece, please”. you whispered to him.
“I promise, I'll be back..” He caresses your cheek, “You must be brave and look after yourself and our son”. He whispers to you and hugs you again, but this time his lips travel to your exposed neck and kiss you there. Your body shivers under his touch.
He sighs softly as he feels her soft skin beneath his palms “So soft..” He continues to kiss your neck, as his hands working to undress you slowly.He whispers to you and nibbles your ear “If you think you're going to seduce me like this without me doing anything to you, you're wrong my love”.
“I wasn’t planning to seduce you.” You reply with a low tone.
“Excuses...excuses ”. He lets your dress fall so he can kiss your breasts and suck your nipples. Your breasts were still producing milk because you were pregnant from little while before your tragic miscarriage.
He was still in his armor and combat uniform, but you never complained about the feel of the rough steel on your bare skin. He rose from your chest, then got up and rubbed his thumbs over your breasts.
He looked at you in the eye and smiled “Lay on the bed for me my sweet queen”. You felt a tingle of emotions hit your stomach. You did as you were told he smiled at you and knelt at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs he placed a bunch of kisses on your thighs and his tongue started messing with you.
Your fingers tangled in his hair and held your husband's face in place. He was caressing your pearl and he will nor stop until you told him to stop Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye.
♡ – 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @darylandbethfanforever9 @hisfavegiri @callsignwidow @xitsemm @saltytidalwavetyphoon @khaleesihel @credulouskhaleesi @lovelykhaleesiii
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon headcanons#aegon the second#aegon fanfic#hotd aegon#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd#house of the dragon#aegon targaryen smut#aegon targaryen ii x you#aegon targaryen x you#aegon x you#aegon x y/n#aegon targaryen#aegon ii#hotd s2#hotd2#tom glynn carney#tom glynn carney x reader#danytar#aegon the elder#house targaryen#aegon imagine#hotd fandom#team green
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love languages
choso kamo: words of affirmation
a/n: once again a cute little (slightly more nsfw) drabble abt my sweet bby choso <3 i love writing these teehee this has me giggling n kicking my feet
at first choso thought he just loved your voice, the way you pulled out your vowels, the softness that curled between the letters. he held onto every word you said, enamored by each syllable that left your lips.
but one day, when he was going down on you, something changed.
you had one hand in his hair, pulling gently on the black locks, as his tongue rolled around your wet clit.
“f-fuck, right there, cho,” you moaned, the nickname alone making him hard as he thrust his face further into you. “s’good, you’re doing so good,” the words leaving your mouth as your grip on his hair tightened.
suddenly, choso paused, his breath caught in his throat. he felt dizzy - maybe it was you pulling his hair? your throbbing cunt against his tongue? or was it your words?
“you okay?” the worry in your voice pulling him out of his thoughts.
“mhm,” he hummed against the skin between your legs. “can you…can you say that again?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes slowly moving up to meet yours.
“what, baby? that you’re doing so good?” you questioned, looking down at him through half-lidded eyes.
god, everything you said you drove him crazy. he could feel his cock twitch against the bed as he was drawn back to your slick pussy, replaying what you said in his mind. “mhm, that,” he moaned, sticking his tongue out to slowly lick up your folds.
if he had looked up, he’d be able to see you grinning ear to ear at his request. it was rare that he’d ask for anything in bed, saying he was ‘just there to make you happy’. you expected his first request to be something much more lewd, yet this one was so sweet.
“cho, fuck, s’good, you’re s’pretty between my legs,” you whined through a lopsided smile. almost immediately you could feel him moan against you - clearly your words were doing something to him, too.
as his pace picked up you felt yourself getting closer, tension pooling in your stomach. “right there, your tongue feels so good, fuck” you sighed, arching your back slightly off the bed.
his hands tightened around your thighs, his mouth pressing into you harder, licking roughly over you. another low groan escapes his lips as you feel yourself get thrown over the edge of ecstasy. you babbled praises through moans of his name as your hands raked through his hair, grinding your hips against his face as you rode the bliss of your orgasm.
when the high finally lulls, you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at your boyfriend, a lazy grin plastered on his face surrounded by the slick of your cum. he places a kiss against your thigh, another soft whine leaving your throat at the feeling.
“d’you really mean that?” he asks, eyes low as he looks up at you.
“mean what?” you ask, voice still slightly uneven as you reel from the pleasure he just brought you.
“all the things you just said,” he explains.
“of course i did, cho,” you smile, loosening your fist in his hair to ruffle it slightly. “you’re amazing at this, at everything. i could write a book with all my praise for you and i’d still run out of room.”
his smile widens as he leans up over your body to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. as his cock rubs against you, he hisses slightly.
“you alright?” you pull away from him, tilting your head slightly.
he suddenly blushes, looking away from you as his body hovers over yours. “i, um, might’ve…” he trails off.
understanding flashes across your face. “cho, did you cum?” you ask, a smile forming across your lips.
still not able to meet your eyes, he nods, face red.
you place a gentle kiss to his cheek. “look at me,” you state softly. his eyes slowly meet yours, shame still evident on his face. “you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, i think it’s sweet,” you say through a smile.
he hesitantly nods before burying his face in your neck.
since then, you’ve been more proactive about telling him everything you love about him, knowing how shy and worked up he gets about it. you’ll find him during a party, standing in the corner with a drink in his hand, and start whispering into his ear how much you love his hair, how he smells, how nice he looks in that shirt, how good his cock makes you feel.
it usually doesn’t take long before he grabs your hand and pulls you out of whatever venue you’re in, looking down to hide how red his cheeks are and how hard he is as he drags you to the car. the two of you usually don’t even make it home before he’s on you in the backseat, making you moan those sweet words to him as he fucks you.
#q writes#drabbles#choso kamo#kamo choso#choso x reader#choso x y/n#choso x you#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo x y/n#choso kamo x you#jjk#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jjk fic#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk drabbles
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Desert Storm
Reverend Mother Jessica x Fem! Fremen Reader NSFW
Request: “Soooo I got this idea stuck in my mind. RM Jessica falls for the woman that her son, Paul, is also in love with. Basically, reader is like Chani, but not really 😅 So, RM Jessica will do everything in her power to steal her away from her own son (successfully coz she got me on a chokehold fr wink*). Yandere vibes or something close to that. I'll let you decide if you'll add some spice and everything nice.” from @buttercandy16
Warnings: Ritualistic groping, sweat and tear ingestion, erotic lactation and breastfeeding, Jessica and Alia telepathically beefing, Jessica is her own warning
A/N: Don't look me in the eyes, believe me, I know how the warnings sound. May my Catholic mother's prayers cleanse these sinful hands that hath created this abomination. (Sexy abomination, *wink wink*).
Word Count: 4.4k of filth
The water of life had opened her mind in unimaginable ways. What once had been a struggle to do, power that had been a struggle to wield, became light. Jessica could see things and feel things that felt almost wrong to be able to digest. Waking up in the midst of the Fremen Sayyadina as they were panting and sighing in ecstasy felt strange. They’d drank of the sweat on her forehead, and the potent spice had acted as a powerful stimulant, and in some cases an aphrodisiac. Jessica watched as a pair of the Sayyadina grasped another, the two of them passionately kissing one another. It was odd to see such open intimacy between two people, between two women.
“Reverend Mother, they wish to make (Reader) a Sayyadina with you.” a Fremen priestess murmured, drinking from her skin as a trickle of sweat came down her forehead.
“Bring… Her in.” Jessica whispered.
The dead Reverend Mother was bound, carried away as the remaining lucid Sayyadina did their part to prepare her. The soon to be Sayyadina, (Reader), was brought forward. Jessica stared up at her with newly blue-stained eyes.
“You must drink of the sweat on her face.” the sayyadina instructed the girl.
Jessica watched as you kneeled in front of her, gently searching for a bit of sweat to ingest. Most of it had been taken already, only a patch on her upper lip remained accessible. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to the flesh just below her lip, gently licking away the sweat there. Jessica reached forward, hands grasping desperately at you.
“I see.” Jessica whispered, grabbing your face. “Oh, I see what he sees.”
Jessica promptly closed her eyes, dropping into a sleep of pure exhaustion. As she slept, as she dreamed, she dreamed of you. With one little touch, she’d been granted powerful insight into your being, your composition and your bearing. You were Fremen, desert strong. Capable of withstanding more than some of the most acclimated soldiers. And Jessica liked that.
“Stay with her. We will tell the man child.”
You were left to watch over the new Reverend Mother, the slow potency of the spice saturated sweat causing a slow smoldering heat in you. Several Sayyadina around you were in the middle of hunting down their husbands and partners, overcome by the effect of it all. You sat still, observing the slow breaths of the new religious leader in your group.
<>
“Mother, she’s Paul’s!” Alia spoke to Jessica.
It had been several weeks since Jessica had taken the water of life, several weeks since Alia had gained consciousness and begun speaking to her in utero. What had first been a new blessing had become another aggravation. Alia was sweet. Dedicated, loving and loyal to a fault. Every bit her father’s child. But Jessica shared a connection with her that allowed the child access to her foremost thoughts, desires and ideas.
“If you don’t hush.” Jessica whispered back.
“What did you say?” you asked, frowning.
“My child speaks.” Jessica replied, then adding, “Of nonsense.”
“Mom!!!” Alia cried.
You saw Jessica’s face contort into a steely expression as she appeared to silently reprimand the conscious fetus inside of her. It was strange, watching her interact with her daughter. Moreso, it was strange watching the other Sayyadina react to it all. You were with Paul mostly, attacking Harkonnen spice mining crews and machines, but recently Jessica had been requesting your presence on a frequent basis, requiring you more and more often.
“She is… Fully conscious?” you asked, eyeing the soft bump warily.
“Mmm. Yes.” Jessica replied, eyeing you with indiscernible interest. “She speaks like an adult, I believe she has the intellect of an adult as well. However, she is inexperienced in the ways of the world and knows it only through ancestral memory. She must learn to listen to her mother.” Jessica finished, a deadly warning in her expression meant for an individual without eyes to see it with.
Jessica extended her hand.
“Feel.”
You walked forward, a bit nervous. She was only ten weeks or so along, there was hardly a bump there. You placed your hand in hers, and she smiled, bringing it to rest quite low.*
“The baby will sit just above my pubic bone, you won’t feel movement, but you can feel the soft bump.” Jessica whispered, eyeing you in that strange way she was quite fond of.
“Oh. Thank you, Reverend Mother.”
Jessica smiled again, gently toying with your blue headband.
“You’ve begun to wear this quite often. What does it mean?”
The question caused you to blush. The piece of fabric was quite irrelevant, but the color was significant for many things.
“Oh… Well. We Fremen wear blue when we’re in love.”
Jessica’s eyes grew sharp and her hand stilled.
“With who?”
“Well, your son.” you admitted.
Jessica was quite silent for a period that was out of character for her. By the way she stared straight ahead, it was clear that she wasn’t talking to Alia. Her lips would often quirk when conversing with the child, and her eyes would dart around in thought. But she was deadly silent at this moment. No quiver of her lips, no movement of her eyes, not even the slightest twitch.
“I see.” Jessica finally said. “You make a mistake, assuming he can love you.” she whispered, leaning in predatorily. “My daughter Alia reminds him often that he must reserve his hand for the most diplomatically beneficial match.”
You clenched your teeth, drawing away from her.
“Paul can make his own choices without you two involving yourselves.” you replied, venom boiling through your words.
Your feet moved of their own accord, drawing towards the exit and out of Jessica’s room, forgetting the code of conduct. You were to formally greet and bid goodbye to the Reverend Mother at all times, to provide respect.
“Stop.”
You froze, breath caught in your throat at the barked order. She’d never used the Voice on you before, and you’d never seen it used.
“You will respect your Reverend Mothers.” Jessica spoke, in a two-toned voice. “All of us.”
Chills ran up and down your spine as you turned, viewing Jessica in fear.
“Come here.”
You were forced to walk back towards her. She grabbed your face with both hands, eyes wild as she observed you.
“I will be leaving to spread the news of Paul in the south. You will come with me.”
You shook your head. You were Feydakin, and a fighter. Your primary role to the tribe was not being a priestess, but being a fighter. To leave Paul to fight without you would leave him vulnerable, without relief from his dreams. Sure, he had Silgar, but the man was a fool and only fueled the Bene Gesserit delusions. Who would be the voice of reason amidst all of this?
“I am Feydakin.”
“No, you are Sayyadina. You go where I tell you to go, when I tell you to go. And as your Reverend Mother, I have the say over the matter. I want a fighter by my side, can’t you see?” Jessica whispered, eyes clouding over in soft anxiety.
Even though Jessica was Bene Gesserit, you’d always had a six sense for when someone was playing you. This was Jessica playing.
“You defeated Stilgar.” you retorted. “You are fighter enough.
“But I am pregnant.” Jessica replied. “And that was weeks ago. I will only continue to get bigger, to become more immobile. I will need a trusted protector.”
You eyed her with extreme skepticism, taking a moment to let her words hang. Most liars filled silence by instinct, word vomit flying out of their mouths under pressure. But Jessica knew that trick. And although her real reasons for having you close to her weren’t reasons previously given, her being pregnant was a viable excuse she could use if needed.
“It’s because you don’t want me to date Paul, isn’t it? My common Fremen blood isn’t good enough for him?”
Jessica laughed. It sounded unkind.
“No. Paul would be lucky to have someone as headstrong and wise as you for a partner, especially someone who is both those things and young, fertile. But his future lies elsewhere. And I do care for you. I would hate to see you hurt.”
She stepped forward, placing both her hands on your shoulders. She was back on her game. You had a sense that she was telling the truth, but only partly.
“Paul will join us in the south when he is ready. Distance will fizzle out the bond or… Make it stronger.” her face twitched. “But I believe it will be solidly the former.”
It was a struggle to stay in that room. You wanted to run out of her room to find the nearest corner to lie in. Not cry. You were Fremen. You didn’t cry over broken hearts and star-crossed love affairs. Not even the dead.
“I wish to be dismissed.” you managed, voice hoarse.
“No. You will stay with me, in my sight until we leave. It is better this way. Separate yourself where you can.”
“Reverend Mother, I wish to leave.” you repeated.
You needed a quiet corner, a place to breathe out and vent your pain without crying. This was humiliation, this was hurtful, this was heartbreak. And you needed to deliver the burden outward. Not in front of this woman with words shaped more like daggers, chipping away at year’s worth of armor to prevent you from crying.
“No.”
“You don’t understand, I need-”
“I am well aware of what you think you need.” Jessica interrupted, “And I assure you that it would be better to stay with me. I am what you need.”
It was a battle. Both internal and external. But you weren’t the only one boiling with voices too loud.
“Mother let her go, mother let her go!” Alia repeated over and over. “She will crack, she will waste water, you cannot let her waste water.”
“Silence!” Jessica spat, clutching at her womb. “You, sit.” she pointed.
Her usage of the voice was becoming more and more frequent, and it was directly tied to how in control she felt. It wasn’t something she used lightly, but as tensions and excitement rose, her composure would wear slightly, and she’d use it less sparingly.
“I do not care for your insolence, Alia.” Jessica began to berate her daughter aloud. “It is both rude and unwelcome. These are adult matters. I.. Hold your tongue. Stop interrupting me.. No, I don’t care if you have an adult mind, it is quite literally irrelevant to your circle of control.”
The argument once again turned internal, with Jessica’s lips twitching wordlessly. The debate was intense, and evidently not meant for your ears.
“There.” Jessica sighed, massaging her temples. “Forgive the interruption, she is just so opinionated.”
Her eyes flashed with her last statement, a hidden anger rooted there. Then she moved, sitting beside you with a sigh. You were still fighting tears. She reached a hand out, moving to fold a bit of your hair back into the bonnet.
“Don’t touch me.” you snapped.
Jessica snorted, continuing to fuss over your hair.
“Your hair is covered in sand.”
“We’re on a desert planet.” you retorted.
Jessica didn’t respond. Instead, she got up and grabbed a comb, undoing your day’s old braid and gently combing out the dust and sand. She braided it in a style that was a bit foreign, beginning the braid from the crown of your head instead of the root. Once complete, she tied a scarf over your hairline. A soft beige. Decidedly neutral. The blue bonnet was confiscated.
“So you’re deciding what I can and can’t feel now?” you said.
Your words sounded more wounded than you intended them to.
“No. I’m simply tying a fresh scarf over you. This one needs to dry.”
You rolled your eyes.
“You can’t clean things in the desert.”
“Air does wonderful things. So does the sun.”
The urge to backtalk her more was deafening. The words posed on the tip of your tongue, like a serpent waiting to strike.
“Come. It is time to rest.”
“It is midday, Reverend Mother.”
“And I am tired, and I will not allow you to escape from my watch. You will join me.”
Her words were not laced with a command of the Voice, but she probably could add it if you didn’t comply. Her hands pulled your outer robes off. She kept herself in a thin, sleeveless dress, pulling you into her. Why Jessica needed you this close was up for debate. You assumed it was because she desired control. She assumed that too, but a third voice quietly thought otherwise.
“You smell like the sun.” Jessica murmured, pressing her nose into your hair.
“And you smell like sweat.”
Neither scent was necessarily bad in the Fremen culture. No one would tell Jessica that her sweat was bad, a body was just a body, and it smelled as such. And the slightly burned scent of hair was just that. The sun roasted strange scents and colors into a person after a while. You would smell as such.
“Are your periods still regular?” she asked, the question phrased not unkindly.
“Yes.” you murmured.
“Good, that’s good.”
It was odd that she’d fret over your fertility while simultaneously resenting your relationship with Paul. But she was an odd character. It would be natural for her to have odd questions.
“Closer, lie closer to me.” Jessica whispered.
This rest, you would not.
<->
“Closer, I need you closer.” you whispered, pressing your face into Jessica’s neck.
She hummed, sleepily pulling you in, adjusting the pillow around her swollen belly to accommodate your increased closeness.
“You’re needy this morning.” Jessica sighed.
“Hmm?” you frowned.
“Not you, Alia.” Jessica sighed. “You’re always welcome for a cuddle.”
She let out a contented hum, pulling you as close as she could with her belly protruding. Her nose rested against your forehead, you could feel the moisture of her breath. The cuddle lasted a few more moments before a Sayyadina entered, informing Jessica from behind the fabric curtain of her yali that breakfast would be served in a quarter of an hour.
“Help me up.” Jessica murmured, rubbing her eyes.
You gently helped her to sit, pulling back the thin sheet. Her feet were swollen.
“Oh.” you winced.
“The joys of pregnancy, I know.” Jessica sarcastically grimaced.
Her sighs of pain turned to those of relief as you slowly worked your hands over her feet, massaging the swollen calves and tendons. The Reverend Mother propped herself up with a pillow, drawing slow circles over her belly as you worked on her feet. Her lips were pursed, she was in deep conversation with Alia. Jessica laughed a little at whatever the child said, and then nodded. You watched in fascination as her belly began to tremble slightly.
“Morning exercise.” Jessica explained. “Feel.”
She held your hands over her large belly as Alia kicked inside. You could feel the consistent, violent movement inside.
“You let her do that?” you frowned.
“It’s good for her, she needs to move her limbs, she needs the stimulation. But she does ask before kicking, or does so when she requires touch.”
The explanation was sufficient, and fascinating.Hers and Alia’s relationship was complicated, but amusing from the eyes of an outsider. You grabbed her robes and yours, helping her dress. She preferred bare feet most days, but today you coerced her into wearing soft moccasins to support her tender feet. Her hands lingered over yours as you adjusted her outer robes.
“Thank you.” Jessica murmured, pressing a slow kiss to your temple.
Following breakfast, Jessica drew you towards the Fremen temple where the masses were meditating. Today was a more quiet moment. Jessica was requiring of a specific ritual of group contact today, a spring rite. She brought you forward, resting her legs around your hips, yours fitted loosely around her bottom. Another Sayyadina came behind her, resting her hands on Jessica’s abdomen and pressing her pelvis into Jessica’s bottom. Spice was passed around, and members slowly began to sway together in a throng. But something was different today. More Fremen holy men and women began to touch more freely with one another. The Sayyadina with her pelvis pressed against your back began to sway with you. Desire. Her breath was hot on your neck, and her hands fitted loosely on your stomach. Jessica leaned into the arms of the Fremen priestess behind her. The breath of the group began getting heavier, labored. You could feel the energy surrounding you, the heaviness in the air. Touching slowly became more sensual, caresses of the torso more common.
Jessica kept your hands in hers, swaying more frequently. The Sayyadina behind her began to draw her hands over her more sensually, as did the Sayyadina behind you. Fingers pulling at the fabric of your robes, hands drawing over your abdomen, over your thighs, and eventually slipping up your collarbone. The Sayyadina behind Jessica was more brave, fingers kneading the swollen curves of her breasts. It was a spring ritual, meant to further the fertility of the Fremen, meant to inspire the energy of life around them. It was what the people needed, it was what the people required. But your role in this was confusing. Why had Jessica placed you opposite her? Were you a symbol of the Fremen’s future? The Sayyadina behind you placed both her hands over your womb, and a distant chant for fertility began in the back of the room. It bloomed until everyone aside from Jessica and yourself were chanting. It was deafening and was confusing. The sight in front of you didn’t help. The Sayyadina behind Jessica had her hands pressed firmly against Jessica’s chest, groping and pulling at her swelling breasts. It should have disgusted you, this sight. But it didn’t. A distinctly different feeling came forth. It wasn’t until you were out of the ritual, back into Jessica’s chambers, that you pieced it together.
“You ran off fast.” Jessica rasped, soft footsteps filling the yali.
“I had a lot to think about.”
You noticed her bare feet. Feet that you distinctly remembered placing in moccasins earlier. Another stab of jealousy snuck up through your throat.
“Where are your moccasins, Reverend Mother?”
“Nabiya has them. I didn’t want them anymore.” Jessica sighed.
“Nabiya?”
“The Sayyadina behind me during the ritual.”
You clenched your jaw, looking away. They were confusing, these feelings you were having as of late. Jessica noted your closed off nature, laughing a little.
“Oh come on, now.” Jessica sighed, wrapping her arms around you, her belly pressing into your back. “It was a ritual, I am a pregnant, fertile woman, and a Reverend Mother. You are too. This will bring the Fremen much joy, to see their holy women fertile and strong.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
Jessica rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue softly.
“That ritual isn’t done every year. I distinctly remember the last Reverend Mother doing it last year.”
“Yes, but I am a new Reverend Mother, and we are in a time of great anxiety and excitement. It is important to encourage the community to reproduce.” Jessica murmured. “It is important to remind you of the beauty of your youth…”
“Paul is my chosen-”
“Hush.” Jessica cut you off. “None of that.”
There was a burning in your eyes, and you looked up at the ceiling of the yali to avoid crying.
“Shh, shh.” Jessica murmured, stroking your head. “You have such a limited idea of what your life could be.”
“I’m useless here.” you protested. “I should be beside him, I should be fighting for my people instead of sitting in rooms while people touch me and praise my unproven fertility.”
Jessica hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Her hands hadn’t stilled their soothing caresses over your face and neck.
“Come, lie on the bed with me.”
You were weakened to her requests as it was a matter of compliance as well as comfort. Jessica’s arms encircled your body, and she hummed softly, drawing her fingers over your scalp.
“There will be another. One for you to love.”
“Reverend Mother, Paul said he loved me.”
Jessica smiled sadly, placing another kiss on your forehead. Her hands drew lower, resting on your neck.
“He has found another.”
All of the air escaped your lungs in a wheeze. Jessica’s forehead softened, and she brought you in for a deeper hug.
“Don’t cry, I know, I know it hurts.” she murmured.
You got the sense that she did care. The months spent at her side as Alia had grown resulted in softer, more empathetic moments from the usually hardened holy leader. And besides Paul and Alia, you were one of the few people she cared for, probably the only Fremen she viewed as anything except a pawn.
“Who?” you whimpered. “Who does he love?”
Jessica shook her head. She pressed kiss after kiss over your face, fingers drawing up and down your back.
“Another from the North. I do not think it wise to tell you who.”
A dry sob came from your throat. You weren’t crying tears, but you were still vocalizing, much like the women of the tribe would do for the dead.
“I know it hurts.” she repeated. “So give it to me.”
Her hands held your face, and as the first tear slipped down your cheeks, her lips were there to catch it, drinking in the moisture. You only shed a few tears, it was all you dared spare, but what you didn’t expect was for her to give it back. Her lips brushed against yours, delivering a soft bead of saliva onto your tongue. She did this so tenderly, fingers stroking over your cheeks softly.
“You have such a limited idea of what your life could be.” Jessica whispered, repeating her earlier words with a hint of sensuality, with a hint of more care.
She leaned in again, her nose brushing against yours. You looked into her spice stained eyes, tentatively drawing a thumb over the tattoos on her cheeks. She smiled softly, and leaned in all the way, lips slowly dancing over yours. It was the reprieve for the ache in your heart. You were heartbroken over Paul, but over the months spent with Jessica, you’d slowly come to care for her too, and the infant child inside of her. You noted the unusual stillness of Alia, the dormant nature of the child. A hand on Jessica’s abdomen confirmed her sleepy state. If the child had been awake, there would have been a soft pressure on the other side as she touched back. Jessica pulled away, stroking your cheek. Her eyes were clouded over in a glow of satisfaction, and the telltale signs of her scheming lay in the intensity of her gaze.
“Do me a favor.” Jessica murmured. “My milk is coming in… Only a little right now, but it is better that it be extracted and taken into a body immediately.”
“I’ll get the pump and the straw so you can drink what it collects.” you assumed.
Jessica laughed softly, pulling you back into her arms before you could leave.
“No, no dear. If I was going to pump it, I would’ve done so this morning. I wish to share it.”
You balked at this, and Jessica laughed even more, her hands encircling your hot cheeks.
“Sweetheart, please. It is a gift, and cannot be given to anyone else.”
Jessica gently parted her robes, exposing a swollen breast. Your first instinct was to turn away, but Jessica was quicker, firmly cupping your face, forcing you to meet her eyes.
“No, no. Do not pull away. Accept the gift.”
Jessica’s phrasing of the request was despicably deliberate. The gift of water was a holy, sacred act. A symbol of someone’s devotion to another. Usually it was done via spit, but if it came from the body, sharing it was a devotional act. To deny it was like denying the person, a sign of great disrespect. It was the tender touch of her thumbs over your cheeks that convinced you. A soft kiss was all the reassurance Jessica gave before she pushed you down.
“A soft latch. That’s all that’s required.” Jessica directed.
You nodded, leaning in and wrapping your lips around the stiff, brown nipple. It was warm, growing stiffer immediately between your lips. With a soft, experimental suck, a bead of milk landed on your tongue. Jessica let out a relieved moan, her hands tightening in your hair. Alia stirred slightly, but settled. She was unaware of this exchange.
“Again.” Jessica pleaded.
You’d never heard her use this tone of voice before. It was breathy, needy even. It inspired stirrings in you, made you more eager to please. You moved your lips slowly, imitating the suckling of babies you’d witnessed in the past. It required a bit of tongue and throat movement, but you managed to produce the correct combination, milk landing in steady streams on your tongue. Jessica let out pleasured hums of relief, her hands stroking over your head. It was a small amount of milk, and she went dry quickly.
“Other side now, beloved.” Jessica murmured. “And save a mouthful for me this time.”
The suggestion was odd, and a bit exciting. You were less unsure of yourself this time around, and you were careful to keep a decent amount of milk in your mouth at all times to fulfill her next request. It made the process a bit slower, which Jessica did appreciate. Her fingers could dance over your cheeks as they rhythmically hollowed. She could commit the sight of your lips on her breast to her private memory. You pulled away as she went dry, holding what milk remained in your mouth. A soft tap on your chin directed you upward, and Jessica opened her mouth, awaiting what you had collected. You released the liquid back to her in a steady stream, and she swallowed greedily, but she didn’t stop there. Her lips and tongue collected what was left, her tongue searching every crevice of your mouth for the sweet milk that remained. Her breasts dried in the humid air, and she leisurely swirled her tongue over yours, enjoying the remaining traces of her milk on your tongue.
“Lovely.” Jessica murmured. “Now I’m nice and empty, and you’re full of my nutrients.”
There was a mildly deranged look in her eyes, and you wondered just how much her ego had swelled now that you’d nursed from her, now that you’d shared her own kiss. Her hands drew you back in, pressing your face to her neck, fingers tracing delicately through your scalp. The smell of her breast milk lingered, a sweetness that complimented her natural odor.
“Oh… The things we will be…”
#rebecca ferguson x reader#rebecca ferguson x you#wlw#rebecca ferguson#dune#lady jessica#reverend mother jessica#reverend mother jessica x reader#reverend mother jessica x you#lady jessica x reader#lady jessica x you#spice#and everything nice#request
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Ahhh asking again!!!! I love and laugh about Joel and Preggo. What if she wants Joel to prepare the nursery? They go to pick out paint ….she says needs to see it in the room, he paints sample areas. ……she picks one, he paints it and then she cries because she hates it and accuses him of doing the wrong color. Please change this prompt anyway and every way! Basically about preparing nursery to her whims. Or he does everything and she has changed her mind.!!!!
Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife - Oh the Colors You'll Choose
Warnings: girlie is up to her usual tactics, slight Jealous!Joel at the end
- - - -
One thing Joel’s really excited about with the baby on the way is getting to design the nursery. Finally having an excuse to throw away your old high school gear you haven’t touched in over a decade, the clothes that had no style in the modern era, collecting dust in bins, all the Christmas gifts you never were going to use just stocked up in the spare bedroom for storage. Now the room was vacant. Tarps and old sheet cover the carpet, walls primed and prepped for the first round of paint.
Joel picks out a nice pink neutral tone, something perfectly lovely for the little girl he’s about to have.
You barely glance at the swatch in his hand, just nodding and waving him off as you lie sprawled eagle in bed, trying your best to cool underneath the high speeding fan.
He’s spent the entire afternoon of your nap getting the room partially painted. The whole time, giddy with the idea that he’s going to be changing diapers in here, reading stories, cradling his baby’s soft small head and walking around the room to get her to sleep—
He finally notices you patting gently into the room, just awoken from your fresh nap. He’s halfway to an excited smile until he sees the absolute wrought look of disappointment all over your face.
"What, what's wrong?"
There’s no hint of happiness or enthusiasm in you. You survey the walls disappointingly, crossing your arms with a disgusted look before walking out without a word.
Joel’s not going to let this room be the thing that upsets you—no you’re going to love it, he’ll be damned sure.
He shows you 5 more colors—all ranging from pinks to purples and—
“Does it have to be pink? Why are we forcing the gender thing on her?”
“I mean, I don’t know. Doesn’t have to be. Thought maybe could be something sweet…” his voice trails off as you make a disgruntled frown.
“We can pick a neutral color if ya want.”
Joel pulls out a few colors he had stored in his bag—some greens and blues, grayish whites and browns.
You make a firm decision on one—the light green forest color. It’s bold, but it seems to make you happy.
Until he starts painting:
“No! No it’s not right.”
Joel sighs. “What’s not right? This is the one you picked!”
You shake your head again. “The light from the window makes it look so bland. It just doesn’t look good.”
“I can’t control the sun…”
“You’re doing it all wrong, Joel.”
He wipes the paint off of his beard. It’s been 2 days of painting now, much longer than he expected.
He lays 5 different colors on the walls in tiny samples; this time you’ll be able to see the one exactly as it will be when he finishes painting.
You walk back and forth, finger pressed to your lip in hard concentration. “Oh! This one!” You exclaim: an orange tan.
“Are you sure?”
You nod.
He starts doing the color, now halfway through the room, fumes suffocating his brain, but now you’re telling him it's just not as pretty as it looked on the swatch.
“Why are you painting the wrong color!”
“It’s the same one!”
“No it’s not!”
You've now moved on to the next color of the rainbow on your hit-list since he somehow fucked orange up. He lays out 10 swatches of blue. All of which look the same to him but none appeal to you.
“Can we just pick one and settle on it? This much paint on the walls aint good. Gonna take forever to get the smell out.”
“Joel, this is going to be our BABY’s FIRST COLOR she'll associate with. It has to be perfect for her! She’ll be stuck with it forever!”
He raises his eyebrow unconvinced.
“…Until I decide to change it again,” you add plainly. “Or until she’s old enough to decide for herself. Do you really want a tween picking out her own bedroom color to haunt us?”
He huffs but agrees.
You are eating a banana just as Joel's finishing laying on the neutral ocean blue throughout the whole room. You had come in twice already but hadn’t made a peep either time, so maybe this one is the one—
"Oh my god!" You exclaim. Joel nearly falls off the latter with worry that the baby somehow just dropped from between your legs until he sees you point to the banana peel excitedly.
His shoulders slouch in a ‘you gotta be kidding me’ sort of way. His back fucking hurts. Hands cramped up. There’s gotta be a permanent strike of white in his hair right now. He drops the paintbrush, splashing it into the now wasted paint can of blue before taking your peel and walking out the room. Of course, its already nighttime, so the hardware store is closed and he’s gotta wait till morning to get the new paint.
The next day, he's rolling on the new yellow.
You wrinkle your nose disgustedly. "Ugh what the fuck is this?"
"It’s the banana!"
"No it's not! This is so much darker!"
"BANANAS GET DARKER EACH DAY. YOU WANTED ME TO MATCH FROM A HALF EATEN PEEL.”
“It sucks. You've put this god awful yellow in my mind now I don't want anything like it.”
You turn around and survey the room, repulsed by its bright wrongness. Joel opens his jaw wide and silently screams into the air, pounding his fist into his head angrily without letting a sound out.
You turn around just as he drops into a neutral, emotionless demeanor.
The lightbulb in his brain flickers on. “You know what? I got an idea."
-
Joel takes you to the Home Depot.
"Hey Rick,” he says towards the man behind the paint counter.
Rick just chuckles. “Hey Joel, getting another paint? Your wife gonna make me match to the crazy fire in your eyes when you tell her to—“
Joel clears his throat when you waddle quickly to hold his hand like a child eager to stay close to dad in an unfamiliar land. Your mouth agape as you stare up at the ceiling and around all of the endless aisles of lumber and tools. Luckily, you were too stunned to hear Rick’s passing words.
"Why is it so big here?” You ask innocently. “And woodsy. And ... orange."
Joel grabs your hand and plops you in front or the swatches wall.
You gasp, “THERES SO MANY OPTIONS,” eyes sparkling and wide like a child in a candy shop.
"Pick a couple to take home, and then we're getting the paint for it. Ok?"
"How much are they?"
"They're 40 bucks each—“ Joel starts.
But Rick, the ever so helpful manager to anyone but Joel, buds in. “The swatches? You don't gotta pay for them darlin,” he winks.
Joel gives him a dagger look, but you smile so wide and start slipping swatches like they’re on fire.
Joel shakes his head and grabs some more rolls and brushes since his are all worn out. By the time he returns to the swatch wall, all 23 seconds later, you’ve got a giant of colored papers pile barely held in your hands of every single color. “We should check them all!”
He grits his teeth but bares a smile.
-
Joel tapes every single swatch on the wall at home. You walk and study each one. Holding one eye closed, tilting your head to the side, putting a different color next to it. You couldn’t see him pretending to bang his head against the wall on the other side of the room as you debate for an hour now.
Finally, you stand back and take in the entire multicolored wall. “Oh thats it! It’s all of them! We make it like rainbow ombre in like little squares.”
"I would have to buy a can of every single paint. No. We're not doing that. We said one color only.”
"They can't give you like little cups of each color?"
"No.”
"That's dumb. What a scam!"
You wonder downstairs for more inspiration. Something homely. Something familial yet not too obviously Joel or your own style. You come across an old picture of young Tommy and Joel standing in front of Joel's truck, that had just been passed down by their dad. Their smug grins and messy hair, wrinkled clothes and slung arms around one another make you feel pleasantly at ease. Your baby needs to have that same sense of security, youth, and warmth. You study the photo a bit longer, and then it hits you.
-
Joel wakes up, and the first thing he subconsciously does every morning is to reach for you on your side of the bed until he’s in contact with your warm body. It puts him at ease, touching you, knowing you’re there and he’s home. The only times you wouldn't be there would be if you were in the bathroom. But as he looks through heavy eyes, the bathroom door is open, dark, unoccupied. He furls his eyebrows back to your cold, empty side of the bed.
The sound of his truck rumbles distantly through the open window, growing closer and squeaking to a hault in the driveway.
He throws the blankets off and rushes down the stairs 2 at a time just to see you hauling a big heavy paint can slung down low with both your hands desperately holding the handle, all by yourself, bloated tummy and all, through the front door.
Barreling to you, he snatches the can from your sore fingers.
“Are you crazy??? You can’t drive! You can't carry heavy shit! What were you doing—“
"Yes I can!” You challenge back. He sets the can on the table with a loud slam just as you drop his keys in the tray. “I’m not completely helpless, Joel! I can get my own pain and drive my own ... your own truck!"
"Yeah? Go paint the room yourself then, if you're so independent."
You scoff, bemused by his suggestion. “I’m not doing that. That's what I have you for.”
He shakes his head and looks at the new can.
“This better be worth it. "
You smile. “It's the one. Trust me."
-
Joel finishes lying on the paint. It's a breezy, toned down pinkish salmon. Definitely not something that you would have gotten from a swatch. No, you had this one custom matched, and he can't quite put his finger on why it feels so familiar. And gives him little irksome itch too.
He’s about to call you up when he hears Tommy greeting you at the front door.
The two of you make your way up the stairs, Tommy with a muffin shoved half in his mouth. When you round the corner, your husband stands in the middle of the room, awaiting your response.
"Well?" Joel asks curiously.
To his relief, you've got the brightest, sweetest grin plastered all over your face. "It’s perfect. I told you!"
Its worth it--to see the excitement in your face--this is what he was hoping for the whole time. "Thought we weren't doing the gendered color thing?"
you nuzzle yourself under Joel's broad arm. "Well... this one is special."
Tommy nods in agreement "this looks good!" He walks around the room, more so noting Joel's handiwork rather than the choice of paint. It's kind of funny that Tommy almost disappears like camouflage with how closely his favorite shirt matches—
Joel's satisfied grin immediately drops to a shocked frown.
“You made me match our baby girl’s bedroom to Tommy's old ass shirt??"
You nod happily. “Isn't it so good!"
His arms flex angrily across his chest—it’s not good at all. “What’s next, you two havin’ an affair I don't know about,” he accuses between his brother and his wife.
"Joel!”
"Dude!"
"No! We're not painting our daughter’s room after him! This can't be your favorite color! What about every other color we looked at? What about all my shirts?"
Your eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of your sockets for such a ridiculous suggestion. “Plaid????????????" you ask audaciously.
"I got some denim too!"
Just as you two are screaming at one another over who’s shirt to match the room to, Tommy tiptoes backwards out the room quietly while swallowing the rest of his muffin, hoping to snag one more in the kitchen too before dipping.
"...and I'm just to assume our daughter is MINE when you got me painting HIS shirt—“
"I wouldn't be hanging out with your sensitive ass if it WAS his baby, damnit Joel, its just a color, what is WRONG with you—!”
Suddenly, he dips his hand into the bucket and slaps two saturated handprints onto your breasts.
You gasp, backing away. Two Joel-sized hands in pink are wetly printed onto your large t-shirt, your favorite tee, as you stare down in shock. "You. Did. Not.”
Joel shrugs proudly.
You grab the wet brush on the table next to you and slash it across his face before he could stop you.
you try not to laugh, his face dotted in splotches of pink paint dribbling down his whiskers and neck. He rolls his pursed lips before looking at you, a predator smirking at a silly little bunny who’s just been put herself in a trap.
".... This stuff comes off clothes... right..." you ask hesitantly, backing away as he grasps the roller slowly and strides toward you.
You make a run for it, but the big belly doesn’t let you get far as he closes the distance and snatches you. You squeal out, giggling in his arm arms as he rolls and pats paint all over your clothes and body, the two of you getting soaked by the thick pigment. He pulls you around and smashes his lips for a heated kiss. Pink-colored hands rub paint all over your cheeks and chin affectionately. You rub your nose along his bridge, grinning at one another, covered in the glossy acrylic without a care in the world right now.
You peck his lips once more. “It’s a good color on you too, ya know…”
He rolls his eyes. “Tell ya what. We’ll keep the room like this since ya like it so much. And next time I see Tommy, I’m bleaching that shirt. Win-win.”
“Deal.”
- - - -
Taglist
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop
#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fluff#tlou fluff#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fluff#the last of us fic#last of us fic#Joel dealing with Preggo wife
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me running full speed to your inbox because you said taehyun (it’s me the full time taehyun simp)
fratboy football player taehyun x cheerleader!reader 😁😁😁 (i know he’s more of a soccer guy but BARE W MEEE)
honestly football players txt all of them… sookai ate this up in ways i can’t even describe
good girl cheerleader reader who’s a little ditzy but she’s so sweet n sugary… tutoring w/ football player tyun who’s also top of his classes cos he’s just so smart hehe .. the tension at his games good lord
RAAAAAH YES AND YES LIA OMGGG YOU DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND MY JAW DROPPED 🫠
footballer!taehyun x cheerleader!reader suggestive thoughts (literally all over the place bear with me)
first of all I LOVE this concept, and I wholeheartedly agree that sookai ate up that fit but they’re a good looking group of guys who can fu—
idk what it is but when you mentioned ‘sweet n sugary’ I get it, I really do omfg. like every time the cheerleaders have a dress rehearsal you’re all out on the field beside where the footballers have their training outdoors. short fitting shorts under the cute flap of your mini pleated skirt and your fitted long sleeved bodysuit with the university’s logo and the name of the football team you’re supporting.
literally going insane over the fact taehyun most likely watches the cheerleaders, specifically you, doing cartwheels and splits, his tongue poking his cheek once he sees just how flexible you are. probably storing it in a compartment in his brain with a massive label addressed as your name in bold and all caps.
thing is, taehyun knows you’re too good and a little ditzy to even realise half of the team is salivating over you. even better, you don’t know what he thinks when he watches you, thinking he’s giving you innocent eye contact from where he was watching.
tutoring with him must be fun. he knows your ditzy, but also knows you’re academically competent. he knows that when you set your mind to it, you’re able to do it with confidence. hence your place in cheer since the selection for the group wasn’t easy.
during your tutoring sessions you’d sometimes come in your practice clothes after a cheer rehearsal—the clothes being a oversized cropped tshirt and skin tight booty shorts that leaves little to the imagination. sitting next to taehyun and he instantly glances down at the meat of your thighs while you take your books and laptop out.
occasionally, he’d be talking to you about a section within the subject in which you’re struggling in but far from failing. you just want all your grades to be as good as his. he’s been your inspiration this whole time anyway. and sometimes when you work out the questions a little quicker than he does, he lays his warm palm against your inner knee and caresses your exposed skin gently, cooing praises like, “you’ve gotten better I see.” or even a, “atta girl” 😵💫🫠🤯
and the games THE GAMES 😵💫 I just know tension rises during the games, knowing just how competitive he can be and you’re cheering as hard as you can for the home team, for taehyun. just like when the cheerleaders are performing at the beginning of the game (idk how it works I’m sorry I’ve never been to … nor seen an american football game cjdmdk) the footballers are all getting ready to enter the field, and once the performance is done you make sure to make eye contact with taehyun and blowing him a kiss with a wink. that’ll for sure keep his energy up at the beginning of the game.
and let’s say the home team won 🤭 and the cheer squad end with another performance, you run up to taehyun and congratulate him for being one of the teams best players that evening. smiling up at him with your sweet smile, asking him if you can be his plus one to the team’s celebration later that night. how can taehyun refuse?
“‘course you can, doll. want you by my side tonight, m’kay?” and he’d cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin until he slides his hand to cup your jaw, then a little lower to hold onto your neck with no pressure.
and all you do is nod with your pretty doe eyes and your pretty, perfect smile that has him wrapped around your finger. boy does taehyun want to ditch that afterparty and take you home to ruin in his sheets. because fuck the tension, he wants you. he always has.
© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.
#tried to cover a bit of each thing you mentioned#this probably took a different route than I wanted#but alas it’s here and it’s 1:30am#I hope this was okay lia omg#lia ᡣ𐭩#miupow ᡣ𐭩#[ 🪴 ] — asks.#[ 🧸 ] — mutuals.#taehyun hard hours#taehyun suggestive#taehyun smut#taehyun hard thoughts
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hi guys here’s some more headcannons for Lars (btw i’m doing these literally right before my exam🥲)
like i said last time, these are my headcannons, they may not be yours…
Lars loves ice cream. Even though he may deny it, he has a massive sweet tooth. You most definitely can bribe him with sweets.
Lars is a cat person. Sorry guys, had to say it. It’s not that he hates dogs, he just thinks it’s easier to take care of cats, plus they’re super goofy. He would probably own a black cat or a calico. Lars would so spoil his cat as much as possible, you think it’s a little unfair.
Lars’ favorite genre of books is dystopian fiction. Something about robots and future make him excited. He really likes the book Brave New World.
Lars takes you on a date every week. That’s how his momma raised him. He may not be from America, but he sure knows how to treat a lady. He really enjoys going to the movies or the beach with you. He thinks you’re so beautiful when the salty air blows your hair softly around you. Lars loves the smell of the sea and thinks that he would definitely propose to you on the beach.
He is super good at video games. Not like the Last of Us or Call of Duty, I mean like Centipede and Donkey Kong. It’s what he grew up playing, so expect him to be insanely good. Also don’t play him in Super Smash Ultimate, he would shit on you fr.
Lars hates when you talk to someone on the phone when he’s with you. He likes being the center of attention when he’s with you. He also thinks it’s super rude because you’re spending time with him. Unless it’s your mom, then he completely understands and gives you some slack.
His favorite comedian is Bo Burnham. More importantly, he likes the music Bo creates. It makes him literally giggle when he listens to it. You think it’s a little weird, but you’re glad he’s actually enjoying something.
Whenever you’ve been at the lab for a few days, Lars always makes you a bath before you come home so you can have some alone time. Probably the nicest thing he’ll do for you, but it definitely shows that he loves you so much.
Lars doesn’t like the heat. He’d rather be in the cold where he can wear multiple layers instead of sweating to death. Poor dude was stuck with that most of his life, so he loved it when he moved to New York.
Mr. Nerd geeks out when someone talks about Ghost Corps in a good way. He’ll yap on and on forever about it if you let him. Sometimes you’ll have to drag him away from the poor soul who struck up a conversation with him.
He has a photo album like the ‘Our Adventure Book’ from Up, which contains photos of you and him together. He looks at it whenever he feels sad or needs motivation.
He has a system of marks for when you looks especially attractive to him. Normally they’re color coded for the color you wear and have a specific shape for what kind of outfit it is.
Surprisingly, Lars’ love language is gift giving. He loves giving you little trinkets that you’ve mentioned you liked. It’s the cutest thing ever. It shows he pays attention to you.
Lars loves it when you wear his glasses. He thinks you look like a nerd and it makes you 10x cuter. If you’re in the lab and you steal them off him, he won’t take them back until you give them to him.
um sorry if these are a little short, i’ll definitely make more in the future
#ghostbusters#ghostbusters frozen empire#lars pinfield#ghostbusters x reader#lars pinfield x reader#lars pinfield x you#james acaster
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Could I request Chuuya with a world renown baker s/o?
The man gets to eat all the cake, pie, muffins, and whatever he wishes.
-> Chuuya loves the fact that you are really good at baking, not only does he love being able to get sweet things from you all the time but it also keeps you out of the way of his work (in terms of making sure that you stay safe and aren’t involved in the port mafia)
-> Likes taking in things you make and then refusing to share them with anybody in the office no matter how much Chuuya might owe them or anything like that
-> Also likes how it’s a cute little date idea, I mean staying up in the late hours of the night just flinging batter and frosting at each other, all while him cheating a little and trying to make himself on the ceiling so when you try and throw it at him, well, gravity kicks in and it gets right back on your face
-> Will also shit-talk people while your baking, just so you get the low down of everything that’s happening from the comfort of your’s and chuuya’s kitchen
-> Firm believer that he really likes cakes and stuff with a little bit of alcohol and will love if you make little cakes or cupcakes with his favorite types (he will supply the wine and stuff, dw)
-> Loves also trying to learn so when he has to take care of Q or Elise then he will just use what you taught him
-> Both Elise and Q have never met you, but even if he says he doesn’t share his treats with anybody, every once in a while when those two come over to his office he might let them have a little bit of whatever you made, so they already love you and haven’t even met you yet
#bungo stray dogs x reader#bsd x reader#chuuya nakahara#chuuya nakahara x reader#bsd chuuya#chuuya x reader#xonavia's writings!
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