#please have the coat off for a brief moment
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The Box | Part One [Boxerry]
When Y/N’s brother dies unexpectedly, Harry breaks the news that she now owns an illegal underground fight club. While she wants nothing to do with that lifestyle, Harry is determined to not let her brother's dream die with him.
A/N: so this was the Patreon exclusive series that I decided to bring over here to share with you guys. I wanted to turn it into one long fic for you guys but it was over the block limit so I've had to split it into two parts. It’s still a hefty one so grab some snacks and get comfy, and please be sure to read through the warnings before continuing <3
Warnings: (in no particular order, for both chapters) mentions of death/loss of a sibling and grandparent, mentions of miscarriage, unsupportive parents, swearing, brief descriptions of illegal fighting, money laundering, use of weapons, brief mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety, schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder, smut; kissing, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, oral (both receiving/69)
WC: 19.6k
//
In her 24 years of life, Y/N has only ever been to two funerals. Her first was when she was twelve, to the funeral of her great grandmother. Given, she didn’t know exactly what was happening, but she understood enough. She cried the entire time.
The second funeral she attended was her aunts. Just five years ago when she died in a freak car crash that killed twelve innocent people. Y/N was nineteen, fresh out of school and ready to start her new job, almost putting her deposit down on her new flat. She cried the entire time.
And now, at age 24, she stands at her brother's grave. The same brother that taught her to tie her shoes, that saved her from playground bullies. The brother that helped her move into her flat, that checked in on her when she wouldn’t eat for days while under the stress of their parents. The brother that comforted her after bad breakups, that taught her to fight and defend herself. The brother that risked and sacrificed so much, to give her the life she deserves because her parents labelled her a castaway.
She was the family disappointment because she didn't have her life figured out. Because she took up a job caring for the elderly, opposed to following in her mother’s footsteps and becoming a successful surgeon, or basking in her father's shadow of his worldwide corporations.
Both her mother and father standoff to her side, sniffling back tears of heartache as they comfort one another. Y/N won’t allow herself to mourn for her best friend with them. She won’t let them see her broken and ruined for her brother. Not for them to scold her, to tell her to pick her chin up and stop acting like a child.
She holds it all in as the rest of the funeral party disperse. It’s a fairly large turnout, even if Y/N and her parents don’t know or recognise half the mourners there. They told Y/N they knew him from the fights. Y/N told her parents they knew him from the docks. Even dead, his secret is safe with her.
Her cheeks are damp but not from tears. The wind has been lashing against her body for the past hour of the service and her eyes are still stinging. She doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know that her nose is angrily leaking, or that her eyes look awfully bloodshot.
She continues to hover at her brother’s grave, hoping maybe her parents will fuck off and let her have this moment alone. They don’t. They stand behind her, a few feet away, eyes on their daughter like hawks. Like she’s the unstable one. She has to scoff to herself.
Y/N lets her eyes run over his burial once more. Sammy Y/L/N. A loving son, brother and friend. She promises she’ll come back later, when their overbearing parents aren’t breathing down her neck and she thinks she knows exactly what Sam would say to her.
“Don’t say anything stupid. This is my day, remember.”
She has to fight back the teary smile that tugs on her lips and she turns around to her parents. Her hands are shoved in her coat pocket, shoulders hunched up to offer some form of protection to her ears against the lashing winds.
David reaches for her first, arm outstretched to coddle his daughter to his side. Y/N lets him — needs that comfort today even if it is just from her father. He kisses the top of her head, his wife, Layla, coddling in his other side and David feels a little relief, having both his girls on his arm.
“I hope you’re going to stay for the wake,” David asks softly. Y/N doesn’t miss the huff that slips from her mother's lips and she knows her dad has no doubt just pinched her shoulder because of it. She isn’t going to let them get her down, especially not today.
She nods. “I am.”
When they return to Y/N’s childhood home, she feels sick. She hasn’t been back here in almost four years and the last time she did, she got into an argument with her parents and Sam was the one to take her home and spend the weekend to make sure she was okay.
This time, she’s there because of him and he isn’t there to save her.
Nothing has changed. It’s still the same slightly outdated furniture but she can tell Layla got David to re-wallpaper the lounge. It’s quite busy, if she’s being honest, and Y/N’s feeling a little exhausted in preparation of cleaning up any little slip of the tongues these randoms let out.
The buffet has already been tucked into, Y/N’s grandparents having set out a lovely spread of Sam’s favourite finger foods from when he was younger. It’s solemn and quiet, save for the small bits of chatter between mourners and Y/N feels more than a little lost.
She’s shrugging her coat off and throwing it over the sofa, rubbing her hands together to get some friction of warmth back in her blood. The house is full of more unknown faces than it is with friends and family. They seem to keep to themselves in a separate part of the house and as much as Y/N wants to avoid them, intimidated and somewhat uncomfortable, she sucks it up and shimmies over with a tray of canapes.
The closer she gets, the less unfamiliar they look. She notices a couple of them, some faces she saw when Sam would pick her up from a failing date, or when she would go to his place for lunch and they would be just leaving. They’re all quite stoic, the seven of them and she clears her throat, a small, tight-lipped smile on her face.
The men part just enough to open their circle to her and she’s faced with tall figures and broad shoulders. In her small glory, she has to raise her chin to meet their gaze and she offers up the tray of finger food close to her chest.
“Um, thank you for coming. Sam would’ve appreciated it,” she mumbles the words Layla had been drilling in her head all morning.
They don’t say anything and Y/N lets out a shaky breath. “I take it you knew him from the fights?” She doesn’t miss the way their eyes widen slightly and two of the seven shift a little in their spot.
She laughs breathily. “It’s alright. My brother was my best friend, I knew about it all. Our parents still don’t, though. So I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way. They don’t need to know what he was really doing when he said he was at work.”
A few nod but she’s too busy staring at her feet to notice it. “So you’re Y/N?” A timid voice perks up and Y/N snaps her gaze to the tall blond directly opposite her. She nods shyly, eyes heavy and shoulders sagged.
The blond nods again. “Spoke about ya a lot, he did. Always said if anything happened to him, it was us that had to look out for ya,” he smiles sadly and Y/N really can’t help the tears that pool in her eyes. Typical Sam. Always looking out for his baby sister, even from the dead.
Her eyes rake over the group, some too solemn to make eye contact and others staring at their drinks. But the man to her right doesn’t look away from her face. His bright green eyes are captivating, to say the least, his broad shoulders making his 6ft frame even larger than it is and his wispy brown hair is barely styled but it sits well in a central parting, swooping just a little across the sides of his temples. From where she stands, his jaw and chin are a little stubbly, lips pink and a little damp from his drink.
He looks familiar, Y/N thinks she might’ve seen him in a few fight photos Sam had shown her before, and she can’t tell if he recognises her or not. Though, if she did see a picture of him before, she’s sure he would be in boxing shorts and a tight t-shirt, not a slick black suit with a white shirt and tie. He makes no effort to break the intense gaze he’s offering, so Y/N does. She wills herself to look away and scratches nervously at the side of her neck.
“Well, thank you again for coming. It means a lot.”
//
It was supposed to be an easy day. She had planned for a small arts and crafts session for the residents and some tea and sandwiches after. Y/N loved planning activities, it usually gave the other staff a chance to take a break or catch up on their paperwork.
But Dylan had a funny moment that resulted in a gloopy paint bottle being chucked at her head and she’s leaving work sporting a cut on her forehead and a three-hour-old migraine. She isn’t even leaving work at 3, like she usually would.
She’s coming out of the home at 6 because upon Dylan’s behaviour, he tore up the rest of the group's paintings and broke one of the staff laptops — resulting in two and half hours spent calming him down, administering PRN and writing up several incident reports.
She’s tired, she’s hungry and she just wants to sit down. It’s cold out, the sky thickening black above her and she knows a storm is due. She quite likes a storm, if she’s honest — just doesn’t much like to drive in them.
She’s rubbing out a kink in her neck as she approaches her car, eyes too busy rolled back as she walks blindly. Y/N sees the feet first — a pair of Adidas trainers — then her eyes trail up a pair of toned legs that are adorned in a pair of shorts. Her brows are pinched and she looks up some more, notices the man leaning on the bonnet of her car and his toned arms are folded over his chest.
It’s when she cranes her neck up a little to see his face that her worry is softly eased a little, but not entirely. She remembers him from her brother's funeral three weeks ago.
“Can I help you?” She asks, voice a little throaty and scratchy.
He’s got a baseball cap on his head, longish brown hair curling around the rim of it and his ears. His eyes are a little squinted and there’s a heavy stubble that decorates his jaw and chin. Y/N thinks he looks much more intimidating in this attire, opposed to the suit she last saw him in.
He drinks her in before he speaks. She’s wearing a pair of boyfriend jeans and a knitted jumper, and her hair is half plaited up, the rest falling into natural waves down her back. He thinks she looks quite pretty for an elderly support worker.
“I’m Harry. I used to box with your brother.”
She nods, biting at her inner cheek. “Figured that when no one recognised you or your friends at the wake.” She squints at him again, scratching at her sore neck. “Look I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want? How do you even know I work here?” Her tone holds more accusation as she rambles on and Harry can’t help a somewhat amused smile tug on the corners of his mouth.
He shrugs. “I have my ways.” His arms are still crossed over his chest but he didn’t answer Y/N’s first question. She raises a brow and Harry inhales heavily before his shoulders sag and he drops his arms to his side. “I need t’ talk to ya about the club.”
Her brows are pinched harder than before and she shakes her head in confusion, shifting from one foot to the other. “Club? What club?” Her movement allows Harry to see the cut on her smooth forehead and he frowns, reaching closer to inspect it but Y/N’s too quick and with wide eyes, she backs away.
He realises his forwardness and holds his hands up in surrender; standing straighter. “The underground club. Y’know… the one your brother left to you when he died.” She blinks again, lips parting and she’s blubbering a little like she’s trying to understand what he’s talking about.
Realisation is quick to wash over Harry’s face and he nods. Of course Sam wouldn’t tell her anything about what she’d be taking over. Typical.
She takes a deep breath. “Why the fuck would I be left an underground fight club by my brother? He was just a boxer,” she sighs tiredly, punching the bridge of her nose and Harry frowns harder. So maybe she didn’t really know anything about him.
He shakes his head. “Your brother wasn’t just a fighter, Y/N. He owned the club. Sam was the best fighter we had in The Box and he bought it outright five years ago. Always said if anything happened to him, you’d be the one to take it over, do whatever you think best wi’ it.”
Y/N is silent, tears welling in her eyes and she stomps her foot like an insolent child, like she can’t believe this is fucking happening. “You’re telling me I now own an illegal underground boxing club?” Her voice is frantic, high-pitched and whispered through gritted teeth.
Her hands find their way to her hair, gripping on her roots in disbelief. “It’s a good business investment, if you're into that.” He shrugs, arms crossed over his chest again and he’s struggling to understand why she’s so worked up about it.
If Harry had just inherited a three quarters of a million pound business, he’d be fucking ecstatic. But Y/N isn’t ecstatic and she’s staring at him in complete bewilderment.
“No, Harry. No, I’m not into that. Sell it, give it away, I don’t care. I don’t want it.” She shoves past him, unlocking her car and opening the door. Harry’s watching with wide eyes and parted lips.
She can’t be serious.
He closes the door before she can fully open it and she seethes up at him, teeth gritted and all. “You can’t give it away and you can’t sell it! It’s your brother's life.” He fights back and Y/N bursts, veins popping and she pushes him away by his chest.
“And I can’t fucking keep it! I’m a care worker, for God’s sake! I can’t have shit like that tied to me.” Her hands are waving sporadically, chest heaving in panic as she rips her door open and clambers in the car.
Harry’s gripping onto the door, preventing her from shutting it. He never meant to show up and send her in a spiral of anger and panic. Harry digs into his pocket, pulling out a little business card and handing it to her, waiting for her to take it.
“Look, jus’... jus’ sleep on it, yeah? My number and the club's address is on this, jus’ take it ‘n think about it. Please.”
She eyes the card sceptically, gnawing on her inner cheek. She knows he’s right, that she shouldn’t ruin her brother's legacy with one shitty, selfish decision she makes. But she also knows that she’s right — that she can’t afford to have that kind of business in her name.
Y/N looks back up at Harry, lets her heart flutter a little under his gaze despite knowing these are awful circumstances to get butterflies under. But she sees the desperation in his eyes and she supposes maybe it’s because he wants Sam’s life to carry on through the business.
She takes the card and drives off.
//
“Why haven’t you been to see your brother?”
Y/N closes her eyes for a moment, struggles to keep herself in check. It’s been a long day and the last she needs is her mother chastising her on her break.
“Because I’ve been working double shifts all week, Mum.”
She hears her mother huff from the other end of the line, no doubt rolling her eyes.
God, why did Sam have to leave her all alone in this godforsaken world? Why did he have to get in that fucking car?
Deciding that Y/N does not want to be spending the last few hours of her shift fighting back tears, she cuts her mother off before she can think of anything else to question her on.
“Look, I’ve got to go. Meds round is in the next half hour so I need to get things sorted.”
The line is cut off as quickly as she speaks. Y/N tries not to get too into her head about her mother. About the lack of compassion the woman has shown her during both childhood and now, early adulthood.
If she allows her mind to wander down that path, she’s not sure she’ll ever find the exit.
She leaves the office after allowing herself a moment to compose herself. Across from her, the little light above ROOM 13 flashes and she smiles to herself.
She’s outside the door within seconds, knocking softly before letting herself in. “It’s Y/N… are you okay, Mary?”
The elderly woman sits in her chair, a ball of wool in her lap as she continues knitting. There’s a childlike grin on her lips, eyes full of excitement as she stares at her favourite carer.
“I didn’t think you worked Mondays!”
Y/N laughs, taking a seat next to her. She takes it upon herself to unravel a little more string for her.
“I don’t. I’m covering for Frankie. I should’ve come and said hello sooner, it’s just been a bit busy today, Mary. I hope you can forgive me.”
Mary smiles broadly, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “You know you’ll always be my favourite, Penny.”
She smiles at the nickname. Mary has called her that since her first day at the home all those years ago – when Y/N gave her a penny from her purse for her scratch card and she won the jackpot. That was it. Y/N was Mary’s lucky penny.
“How are you feeling today?”
Mary hums. “Oh, I feel so wonderful. My grandson is coming to visit today. And as far as I can remember... you’re still single, aren’t you?”
Y/N rolls her eyes playfully with a huff. “You’re not setting me up with your grandson, Mary.”
She pouts, unhappy. “Why not? He’s a handsome lad and you’re very beautiful. You’d make such gorgeous great grandbabies for me!”
Y/N almost chokes on her tongue, blinking fast as she tries to catch her breath. “Mary!”
“What? It’s not like I’m getting any younger!”
She can’t quite believe her ears. Mary has talked about her grandson a few times, but she’s never once alluded to setting him and Y/N up. She does not need her patient getting involved in her love life.
“He’s a handsome young man, your age… maybe a couple years older. And he’s a personal trainer! Even runs the gym he works at!”
Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. She’s wondering if she’s got enough time to escape the building before her grandson arrives. She wouldn’t put it past Mary to scour the entire home for her.
“Oh, really?” she asks, playing into it for Mary’s sake.
She grins as she nods, looking back down to her knitting.
“And what’s his name?” Y/N asks, fiddling with the yarn between her fingers.
Mary gasps. “Harry!”
Y/N eyes widen at the volume of her voice, looking at Mary, who’s looking at the door.
“Hello, Gran.”
Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding.
“Of course it fucking is,” Y/N mumbles under her breath.
She stands, plastering a kind smile across her lips. Harry sees right through it, hiding his own smirk as he takes her in. Her attire is completely different from when he saw her last week.
Her hair is a bit shorter, and instead of her jumper and jeans, she’s wearing a pair of black leggings and a purple nurses shirt.
“Nice to meet you, Harry.” She extends a hand to him politely, which he more than happily takes.
He can see how much this pains her.
Mary clears her throat. “Harry this is Y/N… but I like to call her Penny.”
He raises a brow, looking between his Gran and Y/N.
“Oh, so this is Penny?” He looks at Y/N. “I had no idea you were my Gran’s favourite. She talks about you all the time.”
Y/N smiles through pursed lips, feeling a little embarrassed, though she’s not sure why.
“Thank you for looking after Gran, it’s lovely to meet you, Penny.”
She smiles tightly, nodding her head before quickly combing through her brain for an excuse to leave.
Y/N knows it's only a coincidence that the same man trying to get her to take over her dead brother’s underground fight club is also the same man that is her resident's grandson, but it still makes her head spin a little too much.
“I’ve got to get started on teatime meds. It was lovely to meet you again, Harry.”
She excuses herself as quickly as she can. Walking into the meds room, she feels like this is Sam’s way of forcing her hand. She looks up to the ceiling with a frustrated huff.
“Even from the dead, you’re a pain in my ass.”
A knock on the door makes her jump and as it slowly peels open, her eyebrows furrow. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here!”
Harry closes the door as he shuffles inside, hands up in feign surrender and there’s an apologetic look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry if me being here freaked you out a bit. I only visit Gran on Mondays because Sam never wanted us boys bringing trouble around you. I swear, I didn’t know you’d be working today. You’ve never worked Monday’s.”
Her shoulders slack as she exhales deeply. “He didn’t want you bringing me trouble, and yet he’s the one that left an entire illegal business to me.”
Harry huffs out a laugh.
“If he was secretly loaded, why couldn’t he have just left me some cash instead?”
“Honestly? Because he knew no amount he left you would equate to what you could earn running The Box. He’s only ever looked out for you, you know?”
Y/N scoffs out a laugh, shaking her head as she turns back to her paperwork. “I would’ve preferred it if he left me nothing. If Sam trusted you so much, why can’t you just take it over?”
“Because he didn’t leave it to me.”
“No,” Y/N huffs. “Instead, he left it to his clueless little sister who could really do without the hassle.”
Harry purses his lips shut, stuffing his hands into his pocket. If it weren’t for his bestfriend’s passing, he’d probably bark out a laugh at Y/N’s little strop.
“Look,” he begins. “No one is expecting you to take it over and know what you’re doing. Why else did you think he asked me to talk you through it?”
Y/N turns to him, a little pissed off. “And you couldn’t have started with that?”
She’s starting to feel like she could have a breakdown at any given moment. The last thing she needs is taking over an illegal underground boxing club with her dead brother’s friend showing her the ropes.
“I can’t deal with all of this right now. I need to get this meds round done, so if you don’t mind…” Y/N gestures to the door, her other hand on her hip.
She doesn’t make eye contact, her gaze fixed on the floor beneath her. Harry sighs, nodding more to himself than her as he reaches for the handle.
“You have my number. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
She stays silent as he leaves the meds room, a shaky exhale slipping past her lips as the door closes shut. She feels guilty, for being so snappy and rude. But Y/N isn’t sure how else she was expected to react.
Her big brother dies in a freak car accident, leaves a multi-million pound illegal business in her name and she’s supposed to just be okay about it?
Her heart hurts. For herself, for Sam. God, she misses him. She just wants to wake up from this bad dream and talk to her big brother about her day.
Y/N wonders what he would say to her right now if he could. Would he hug her and tell her it’s okay? Remind her that she doesn’t have to go through with this if she dosn’t want to?
She scoffs to herself. No, Sammy would be selfish. I looked after you, now you need to look after my legacy. She can hear his voice in her head, clear as day. It makes her smile, for a brief moment, before she’s overcome with sadness and anxiety once again.
In all honesty, Y/N needs to get her head out of her ass. If Sam had asked Harry to show her the ropes and help her into this transition, then perhaps she should be taking this a little more seriously.
She rolls her neck, taking a deep breath. She’s back to staring at the ceiling, like somehow it’ll connect her to heaven radio and she has to laugh at herself.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself up there.”
//
Y/N stands outside, toes wiggling in her converse as she gnaws on her inner cheek. The building is a tall, dance academy, decked out with the poshest of entrances and Y/N tilts her head to the side. There’s no way in hell this is The Box.
Her squinted eyes flicker back to the card. Not much is on there – an address, Harry’s name, and number. She contemplated calling him before showing up, but she knew if she planned to do this, she would’ve backed out.
So instead, very spontaneously, Y/N drove here right after her shift – not even allowing herself time to rethink or second guess herself.
Gnawing on her bottom lip, she makes her way inside the entrance. It’s quite grand, beautiful even. The ceilings are tall, marble floors. If she’s honest, she feels extremely out of place with her slightly scuffed Converse padding across the ground.
She makes her way to the reception desk tentatively, tapping the business card on the knuckle of her thumb. The blonde woman looks up with a smile, though Y/N’s sure she’s likely judging her in her mind.
“Hi, can I help?” Her voice is soft as she speaks and Y/N clears her throat.
“I’m not sure,” she chuckles nervously. “My name’s Y/N… I’m Sam’s sister. I, uh… I’m looking for Harry?”
The receptionist's smile no longer meets her eyes as it begins to shrink. The look on her face makes Y/N’s stomach twist slightly, her polite smile faltering.
The blonde woman looks at her for a moment – it’s like a flicker of grief passes through her eyes before she quickly composes herself again. She fiddles with something under her desk, retrieving what looks like a key card and handing it to Y/N.
“You’ll be needing this. It’s the first door to your left, just down that hall.” She nods her head over to the other side of the reception and Y/N takes the card with pursed lips and a tight smile.
Nothing can ever describe the fear and anxiety that bubble in her tummy. If she’s being completely honest with herself, she’s terrified of what she’ll see behind that door. What harsh reality of Sam’s life she’ll be privy to.
It’s the closest she’s felt to him since he passed, and yet she’s never felt so distant in her entire life.
Behind the door, is a set of stairs. They lead to an extremely large expanse of a basement; concrete floors, and concrete walls. The lighting is dim and to her surprise, the place is bustling.
Three large boxing rings sit in the length of the basement, and gym equipment is spread out across the far right of the stairs entrance. She can see a small shower sign to her left, and right in front of her, she notices him.
He’s sweating, struggling to catch his breath. His hands are resting on his knees, his back hunched over slightly as he lets out shallow pants to gain control of his breathing.
Harry and his opponent stand in the middle of the ring. There’s a cocky grin on his lips as he stands up straight, tearing the Velcro on his gloves as he tugs them off his hands and throws them out of the ring. Jason, Harry’s sparring partner, waddles over, face beet red and chest splotchy.
“Good fight.” He shakes Harry’s hand, a tired yet smug look on his face and Harry can’t help but roll his eyes when he pulls away, taking out his gum shield as he does so.
He grins. “You tried.”
The sight of him makes Y/N’s chest heave. The sweat adoring his tattooed chest and torso, the way his golden skin glistens under the dim lighting.
She feels a bit more suited in this environment than she did upstairs. At least down here, she isn’t self-conscious about her tatty converse.
Y/N takes a moment to compose herself, letting her eyes flutter around the other trainers. She doesn’t recognize any faces, not even any from Sam’s funeral.
And amid her surveillance, Harry notices her presence. He’s unwrapping the bandage across his knuckles as he watches her, ignoring Jason’s words about going for drinks for Tony’s birthday.
When Y/N turns back to Harry, their eyes finally meet. She offers a nervous smile through pursed lips, barely raising her hand from the side of her body in a timid wave.
“Hey, you hitting the showers or what?” Jason’s voice breaks Harry from his little trance and he hums.
“Yeah. I’ll meet you guys later.”
Harry’s crouching under the top rope of the boxing ring, climbing over the bottom two, and jumping off the platform. He approaches Y/N with a breezy smile, his eyes light and welcoming.
“Hey.”
Y/N clears her throat. “Hi.”
There’s a moment of silence between them both. The gym winds down as more people head for the lockers and showers. Y/N notices and supposes it’s closing time.
“Are you closing?” She finally asks.
Harry looks around them. “Oh… yeah the guys are going for drinks for someone’s birthday. We open back up at 11 for the midnight fights.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Midnight fights?”
Harry nods. “Yeah… training during the day and then we host fights on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights.”
Y/N chews on the inside of her cheek, nodding slowly as she takes his words in. Harry can read her like a book and can tell she’s slightly overwhelmed but even more so, she’s intrigued.
He scratches the back of his head. “I can show you to Sam’s office if you want to talk?”
It takes Y/N a moment to consider Harry’s offer. She’s unsure if she’s mentally and emotionally prepared to see her late brother's office. She’s not sure how it’ll make her feel.
But if she can drive here after work without thinking about it too much, she supposes seeing Sam’s office would be better done spontaneously than planned. Because if she allows herself to think and ponder and doubt, she’ll never make it past the door.
So she nods her head with a soft ‘okay’ and Harry leads her through the gym.
Y/N notices the lock on the door first, then the key that Harry pulls out of his pocket. She wonders how close he and Sam must’ve been for Harry to have access to the office.
He pushes the door open and flicks on the light, allowing Y/N to enter first. She takes her steps slowly, tentatively. The office is small, nothing fancy. There’s an oak desk, an office chair, some filing cabinets, and framed photos of past fights on the walls. Photos that she does not have the strength to acknowledge right now.
Harry closes the door behind them both and drops the key on the desk. “I’ve been coming in here every day. Just to keep on top of things until you were ready to take over.”
His words are slightly muffled as he squeezes his head into a tight t-shirt, tugging it down his still-damp torso.
Y/N turns to him, a little overwhelmed as the tears begin to gather. “I don’t think I can do this,” she laughs tearfully.
Her arms are raised by her sides as she looks around the place. “Look at all of this. I have no idea about fighting or training. How the hell am I supposed to do this? Why did he think I could?”
There’s pity in Harry’s eyes and he purses his lips, upset for her. “Sam needed to know you’d be looked after if anything happened to him. He liked the idea of you continuing his legacy and inheriting all the riches that come with it.”
Y/N scoffs through her tears. “This is a lot, Harry. It’s not like he’s left me his hamster.”
He bites back a smile at her words. He knows if Sam could see his sister now, he’d be rolling his eyes and calling her a drama queen.
“Were you close? You and Sam?” She asks.
Harry takes a shaky breath, nodding slowly. “We were best mates. We were partners.”
Y/N’s eyes widen, eyebrows raised to her forehead in shock and Harry is quick to clock on to what she’s assuming.
“No!” He blurts. “Not like that, Jesus fucking Christ. Partners in the company, I mean.”
Y/N’s body visibly relaxes at the statement but it’s quickly replaced with confusion.
“Wait,” she holds her hand up. “If you’re a partner, why does it matter that I take over? Can’t you just have the company to yourself?”
Harry frowns. “No, Sam is the sole owner of this place. I helped him run things. I have twenty-five percent and you now own the rest. Sam left that to you. Which is why I’ll be the one showing you the ropes. Sam would arrange the illegal side of things – you know, book in the fights, set up bets and stuff. I would do the more legitimate side. Membership fees, taxes… keeping everything under the radar and looking kosher.”
She takes a seat in the chair, closing her eyes for a moment. “Okay,” she whispers, more so to herself. “So… what is this then? Disguised as a gym?”
Harry chuckles softly, planting his bum on the edge of his desk. “Basically. We’re registered as a business, a gym. We keep the fights quiet though. You only know about them if you’re invited or scouted.”
“Scouted?”
Harry nods. “Yeah, there’s a whole network of underground fighting. The Box is one of the most elite. You don’t get to fight unless you’re scouted by us, and you don’t get to watch unless you’re invited and you pay.”
It’s a lot to take in, Harry knows that. But if Y/N is going to take over half the company, she needs to know the ins and outs of everything – no matter how dark or dodgy it may be.
“We charge memberships through card, so we have something to declare and pay taxes on. As for the fights–”
“Let me guess, paid in cash; same with the bets. That’s the real money maker, you don’t have to declare cash.”
Harry nods slowly, impressed by her ability to connect the dots. Unlike most people, Harry has no issue trusting her with every secret within the company. She’s Sam’s blood. And this place was Sam’s everything. He wouldn’t dream of leaving it in untrusted hands.
“I’ll be blunt here, I am not cut out to be running anything illegal.” She admits blatantly, not even thinking of entertaining the idea.
Harry gets it, completely. “That’s fine. If you would rather handle memberships and the legitimate side of the business, I can handle the rest.”
Y/N doesn’t expect him to be so understanding. To be frank, she doesn’t know what she expected from Harry. She figured all her brother's boxer friends would be cold and calculated. Not a gorgeous, kindhearted 6ft teddy bear.
“I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but if you’re happy to, I can show you how we work around here.”
What feels like an hour, is three. And by the time Harry has explained the basics and the logistics, it’s nearly 9:30 p.m. and Y/N’s stomach is rumbling. The loudness of it has heat rising to her cheeks and Harry chuckles.
She’s grown a little more relaxed around him in the two and a half hours they’ve spent in Sam’s office. Her Converse have been kicked off and her cardigan is long gone. She’s still sitting in the chair and Harry leans his bum against the desk, just a few inches from her.
“D’you wanna order food or call it a night?” He asks.
Y/N looks up at him. She’s ashamed to admit she’s enjoying this time with Harry. It’s been a long time since she’s felt so consumed in something that she hasn’t thought about how sad her life is right now.
“Oh, sorry I’ve been here a while. You’ve probably been wanting to go home for ages,” she laughs nervously, feeling slightly embarrassed.
Harry is quick to shake his head. “No, not at all. Besides, I’ve got to stay here for the fights tonight anyway.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. Do you mind if I stay?” She asks.
Y/N supposes that she may as well cram as much into one night as she can. Even if that does include watching illegal fights in this new business she co-owns.
Harry nods, taking a sip of his bottled water. “If you feel okay, stay. I know this is a lot to take in. Don’t think you have to do everything all at once.”
She appreciates his consideration, and maybe she’s not as mentally prepared for tonight and she’s letting herself think, but that doesn’t change her mind.
Y/N can’t fight this inheritance. Harry won’t let her and she knows she’ll regret it if she walks away from Sam’s pride and joy. So she might as well suck it up the best she can.
“I can’t escape this now, Harry. If I’m going to be in this, I’ve got to be all in, right?”
Harry isn’t sure where her change of attitude has come from, but he hopes tonight doesn’t have her coiling back into that previous mindset of wanting nothing to do with the business.
So he nods at her and offers an apologetic yet appreciative smile. And looking at her, he takes a moment to admire the beauty of her. She’s nothing like Sam, not look-wise anyway.
She’s much more attractive than he was.
“So… do you want pizza or something else?” Y/N asks, tapping away on her phone to begin an order for food.
Harry purses his lips. “Oh, I can’t eat until after the fight. But order whatever you want on the company card. I’ll go up and grab it for you when it’s delivered.”
She finds it strange, but maybe Harry gets nervous for fight night. She’s not sure why else he wouldn’t eat until after watching illegal fights.
Y/N orders herself a small pizza and by the time she’s eaten, and Harry has finished explaining the systems, they’re leaving the office to find the trainers in the locker rooms.
The buzzing atmosphere has an unfamiliar wave of excitement washing over Y/N. The unknown anticipation is like electricity, sending a little shockwave through her body.
She hasn’t experienced anything like this before, and knowing nothing about how tonight may unfold, it has her on the tip of her toes. Nervous and ready for anything at the same time.
She thinks she gets what Sam used to say about the thrill he got from fighting. This feeling she’s getting just being stood in the gym before someone’s fight probably doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of actually fighting.
“Everyone listen up!”
Harry’s voice beckons over every single trainer. All eyes are on him and Y/N. She feels a little nervous like she’s intruding on their work.
“I’m sure many of you know, but for those who don’t… this is Sam’s sister, Y/N. She is the new partner in the company and will be just as involved in this business as Sam was. If she has any questions, you answer them. Tonight, you’re all to keep an eye out for her. We’ve got a rough bunch coming in and it’s Y/N’s first fight. Now glove up and get angry. We’re undefeated for a reason.”
As quickly as they paid attention, they were filtering out of the lockers. Y/N won’t admit it but she’s slightly in awe of the respect and power Harry has.
She would’ve never guessed he could have that effect on people. But as her life has proven, Y/N doesn’t seem to be right about anything. Ever.
As they exit the lockers, the gym is a lot fuller. At least two to three hundred people are occupying the space. Y/N’s never seen anything quite like it. It’s loud and masculine, and the eager guests put their bets in at the side of the rings.
“Niall!” Harry calls out, a blond amongst the trainers turning to the owners as he wanders over.
“Y/N, this is Niall. One of our best fighters and Sam’s protégé.”
She shakes his hand with a relaxed smile. “I remember you from his wake. Thank you for coming that day.”
Niall smiles pitifully, releasing her hand. “Your brother was a good fella. Welcome to the team, Y/N. We’re glad to have you in the family.”
She doesn’t question the family remark. She doesn’t have to. Sam had always expressed to Y/N how the boys at the gym were like his brothers. It warms her heart to speak with Niall.
“Ni, I want you to keep an eye on her for me. Just until I’m done.” Niall nods and Y/N frowns, turning to Harry.
“Where are you going?” She asks.
He grins at her, cheeky and cocky. “I'm the first fight. You gonna give me luck like you give my gran, Penny?”
Y/N can’t hide the way her eyes widen or how heat rises to her cheeks. She doesn’t know what she’s more caught off by. Harry fighting or the unexpected use of her nickname.
Wherever it is, it has fire licking at every inch of her body. And the smirk he throws her before approaching the ring only adds fuel to her ever-growing fire.
She’s got fucking whiplash. One minute she’s moping over her brother and the next she’s pressing her thighs together desperately and accepting the fact that she is now, to put it bluntly, a crime boss.
She turns to Niall with a sheepish smile and attempts to relax her shoulders. Niall seems to see right through her shaky facade and he lets out a cackle of a laugh before throwing an arm around her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Harry is the dog's bollocks. And it’s okay to fancy him. Most girls do.”
The ruckus only gets louder, a fairly even mix of chants and boos as Harry approaches the ring and climbs in. Y/N isn’t sure why her heart begins to race. She isn’t sure why she’s instinctively toying with the pendant on her necklace. She has no idea why she’s so hooked and nervous.
Like she’s worried for him.
The introductions are a blur, both Harry and his opponent walking the ring for all to see. The referee doesn’t stand in there with them. He stands to the side, an older man with a beer belly and balding scalp, his voice rumbling through the microphone that echoes.
“This guy’s a fucking nutter.” she hears Niall say beside her, face close to her ear to raise his voice above the noise.
Y/N’s heart stammers a little faster. “He got banned for a little while. The last time he was here, he bit someone’s pinky finger off. Two years later, and we still haven’t got the blood out of the mat. Osmond has very little perception of pain. The only way to win against him is knocking him clean out, or he can fight all night.”
She tries her hardest not to let her eyes widen at his words and keeps her gaze focused on Harry and Osmond. He’s significantly larger than Harry – stockier and taller. Y/N thought they’d at least follow weight class guidelines, but now she’s beginning to worry that Harry may barely come out of there with a pulse.
When the bell sounds and the fight starts, Y/N can’t tear her eyes away. They’re both circling the ring, cautious like lions stalking their prey. Osmond is the first to move, feigning an attack by stomping his foot forward and then easing back.
The motion goes unphased by Harry, not even a flicker of a flinch. Niall giggles to himself, like he’s not at all worried about his friend. Unfortunately, Y/N doesn’t share the same confidence in Harry that Niall does. How can she? She’d never seen him fight before.
They grow closer and Harry is bouncing on his toes. Even barely knowing him. Y/N can feel the energy he’s permitting. The confidence, the excitement. She swallows a gasp when Osomond lunges for Harry but he’s quick to dodge it, forcing a fist into the side of Osmond’s face as he bounces back.
Osmond stumbles for a second, taken aback by the force of Harry’s punch – like Y/N’s not the only one to underestimate the boxer. But as soon as he finds his footing, the fight breaks loose.
Harry is quick to dodge ninety percent of Osmond’s punches, delivering a blow of his own with every other recoil. His slimmer build and smaller weight works to his advantage. Y/N watches the way Harry moves around his opponent, notices how much quicker his reflexes are than Osmond’s.
The crowd has grown significantly louder than before and yet it all becomes a bit of a blur to Y/N. She’s enamoured by him, by his every movement. The way muscles ripple with every pinch, how his skin glistens with sweat, and blood begins to drip from the bridge of his nose.
As quickly as she begins to grow aroused, she stops. Remembering that this was her brother’s life for years. Fighting like this, with little to no rules and people betting on him to win or lose.
So caught up in her head, she misses the final punch that Harry connects with Osmond’s jaw. Misses the way the larger man plummets to the ground with a thud. She doesn’t notice the straining eyes of strangers as they stare at her from across the basement, watching her every move like hawks.
She doesn’t notice, but Harry does. Because he’s looking right at her, stuck in her head. He doesn’t like it one bit; how naive she is. In another Universe, maybe he’d admire it. But not in this world – the new world she’s been thrown into. She can’t afford to be unaware of the dangers this place can carry, of the things people are capable of. It’s muffled to Y/N when the crowd begins to count down from ten, reality only really fixing her senses when that bell rings again.
And the fight is over.
//
She hasn’t been able to stop looking at him.
Harry’s been cleaned up, dressed in a t-shirt again, and counting the money he’s won from the fight. He flicks the notes from one hand to another with ease, counting far too quickly but Y/N supposes he’s used to it.
“What did you think of the fight?” he asks.
Y/N quirks a brow, wonders if there’s a hint of cockiness in his tone, but there isn’t. He’s not boasting about how good of a fight it was, he’s just asking what she thought.
“Was good. Didn’t know you could fight like that.”
Harry hums, stuffing the cash into an envelope and offering her a tight-lipped smile. “Most people don’t. I’m used to being underestimated.”
Y/N doesn’t say anything as she sits on the edge of the ring. The Box had cleared out around forty-five minutes ago, just the two of them left now and the clock is ticking ten to three.
“Think I missed the part where you knocked him out, though.”
Harry hums. “Yeah, I noticed you were a bit in your head when that happened. You need to stop doing that here moving forward.”
Y/N frowns, unsure what she should address first. The fact he was watching her during the fight, or that she needs to stop getting in her head.
“What do you mean?” she settles for.
Harry stands from the small foldable table beside the ring. “No matter how well you may ever think you know this place and these people, you don’t. It’s a bottomless pit of uncertainty and you need to have your wits about you at all times. People were watching you tonight, trying to suss you out. If anyone smells even a hint of fear or weakness on you in this place, you’re done for – whether you’re a fighter or not.”
His words hit Y/N a little harder than both anticipated but she supposes it’s what she needed to hear. Because he is right. She gets in her head far too often since Sam’s passing, and Y/N knows it’ll only end up getting her hurt or in trouble. Especially in a place like this.
So she nods her head, understanding and agreeing. And it’s not like Harry expected her to put up a fight, but he’s at least glad he didn’t make her cry with it.
“Come on, it’s late. I’ll drive you home.” He offers, but Y/N is quick to stand and shake her head, hauling her purse over her shoulder.
“It’s okay, my car’s outside.”
He looks at her for a moment, like he’s debating letting her drive alone at this time. But it’s not his business, and he’s not prepared to overstep again. He might’ve promised Sam he’d look out for her, but he’s not about to be overbearing.
“Okay. Text me when you’re home.”
She leaves shortly after, allowing Harry a few moments of peace as he finishes the last of his paperwork. A weight sits heavy on his shoulders about tonight. About how dangerous getting tied up in this place could be for Y/N.
The first day and people are already staring, gawking, surveilling. There’s that unnerving feeling in Harry’s tummy that just won’t go away. The kind of feeling he got before Sam died.
The memory stings him a little with both grief and guilt. Will there ever be a right time for him to tell Y/N how her brother really died? That it wasn’t just an unfortunate car accident. That Harry’s been watching his back and secretly hers ever since. That the associates of the people who did it were in The Box tonight?
His phone chimes from beside him, screen alight with one single text from Y/N.
I’m home x
//
Bursting through the doors of Oakdale Care, Y/N’s more than a little pissed off. Not because she’s been called into work on her only day off this week. But because the staff have waited two hours to make her aware of Mary’s fall this evening. And to top it off, they didn’t think to contact her family to notify them either.
Y/N chews into Melanie the second she comes through the door, exclaiming how unprofessional it is that they didn’t contact anyone when this happened.
Melanie remains quiet, doesn’t know what to say back to that and she knows Y/N’s right in what she’s saying. But in Melanie’s defence, she’s not running the shift.
“I can call Mary’s grandson now. I’m not running today, Lara is… I thought she would’ve called him?”
Y/N takes a breath as she stops outside of Mary’s bedsit. She knows she shouldn’t have kicked up a big fuss without knowing everything, but the fact still stands that she and Harry weren’t notified when the accident occurred two hours ago.
Shaking her head, Y/N peers into Mary’s room. She lays on her back in her bed, eyes closed but there’s a pinch between her brows, suggesting discomfort and pain from her fall.
“Don’t worry, I called Harry as soon as you called me. He’s on his way now. Has Lara given Mary any pain meds? What’s going on with paramedics?”
Melanie doesn’t say anything about Y/N calling Harry from home. Honestly, she doesn’t think anything of it. It’s not uncommon for seniors to have patients' family members' contacts on their phones. It comes in handy for situations like this.
“Oh, okay. Um, yes… Lara gave her pain relief and paramedics said they’ll be here as soon as possible – they’re understaffed and have a lot of more emergent calls.”
Y/N nods, reaching back to tie her hair up the best she can without a mirror. “Okay, did they say if they’d be taking her in?”
Melanie shakes her head. “They said they’ll assess her on scene and go from there. If they don’t think her hip is broken, they’ll get her referred for an X-ray tomorrow afternoon. If they can tell that it is, then they’ll take her in.”
Y/N nods. She’s been here long enough to know how it works, it isn’t the first time an elderly patient has had a fall. “Alright, thank you. Can you let Lara know I’m staying for the remainder of the shift, most likely tonight as well?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll see if Lara wants you to take over the shift or whatever.”
When Melanie leaves, Y/N quietly enters Mary’s room. She sits on the chair across from the bed and exhales softly.
“For Christ's sake, Mary… you’re always up to no good.” She whispers to herself, allowing just a moment to get her mind in order so she’s calm enough to explain to Harry fully what’s going on.
The idea of seeing him under these circumstances irks her a bit. She’s only been to the club once since she was first there two weeks ago, still finding it a little overwhelming to process. And Harry had assured her that it was fine and to take her time, and if once a week is all she can handle right now, then that’s fine, too.
Y/N feels a little bad. Allowing Harry to run the club alone while she owns the majority of it. It feels a little too cheeky in the worst way and the guilt has been nipping at her for a few days now.
It doesn’t help that tonight she was supposed to be there, to run through the books and set up some form of timesheet for what days she’d come in. Now it looks like neither of them will be there this evening.
A gentle knock on Mary’s door disturbs Y/N’s inner turmoil, and she’s met with the devil himself standing in the doorway. There’s worry in his eyes, brows knitted and lips in a fine line.
“Hey,” Y/N breathes a greeting as she stands from her chair.
Harry enters the room cautiously, scared he may wake her but also scared of what Y/N may say to him. His eyes flicker between the two women for a moment and Y/N offers a gentle smile.
“We’re waiting for paramedics to come and assess her. She’s been given medication for the pain. I’m so sorry you weren't contacted sooner. I called as soon as I found out.”
Harry waves off her apology, knowing it isn’t Y/N’s fault. He takes the seat beside hers as they sit together. Harry’s fingers are intertwined across his chest as he sits back and regards his grandmother.
Guilt is quick to settle into his stomach. He wishes he visited her more often. When scary things like this occur, he finds himself deep in his head about what he couldn’t and should’ve done better or more. He’s not silly, he knows his gran is getting old, but growing up, Harry always viewed her as immortal — isn’t that how everyone sees their grandparents? As ever-lasting beings who will always just be there?
“Do you want me to give you some space?”
Y/N notices his dazed eyes slowly blink her way. He’s not completely with it, may that be through fear, stress or something entirely else.
Harry shakes his head. “No, you’re fine. Feels a bit reassuring having you in here, if I’m honest.” There’s a hesitant (dare she say, shy) smile on his lips as he speaks.
Y/N would like to say his words mean something deeper but in reality, she gets it. Family tend to prefer having a member of staff present after something like this — just in case something happens, there’s already someone there.
She bites down her confused disappointment and a few moments of silence settle around them.
Y/N picks at her nails while Harry chews at the inside of his cheek; his eyes focused on the clock on the wall beside him. It’s nearing eight in the evening and the home is relatively quiet. There will be a staff swap shortly for the night shift but even then, there won’t be much more noise.
“Why’s the car park always so busy recently?” Harry asks mindlessly, but the question bewilders Y/N for a second.
“What do you mean?” She blinks.
Harry shrugs his shoulders, shifting in his chair. “The amount of cars parked out the front compared to the amount of staff in right now doesn’t match up.”
It’s Y/N’s turn to shrug her shoulders. “It’s a busy area. A lot of people tend to use the car park if they live nearby and can’t find a space. Plus it’s free.”
A quiet hum sounds from Harry’s throat and Y/N finds herself wondering if he’s satisfied with her answer or not. Then she finds herself confused again as to why she cares.
“I told Melanie I’d stay for a few hours, or at least until we know what’s going on with the paramedics. So, I most probably won’t be at the gym later tonight. Sorry.”
Harry shakes his head. “No, don’t be silly. It’s fine. I’ll stay, too. Niall can oversee the gym, it’s just a few lads putting in extra training tonight, there’s no fights anyway.”
Y/N’s about to reply when a gentle knocking on Mary’s door stops her. Melanie pops her head through, an apologetic smile on her face as she greets Harry with a polite wave.
“Y/N, is there any chance you can do bedtime meds round? Lana’s speaking with the Head of Care about the fall.”
She looks to Harry, who nods with a small smile before she leaves the room with Melanie. He’s left with silence and his grandmother's soft snores as she sleeps. His heart races a little with worry of what could’ve happened. If she’d hit her head or if a member of staff wasn’t in the room when it happened.
It takes a lot of force to shake those thoughts from his head. The what-ifs. He tries to find something else to focus his attention on, but Mary doesn’t have much in her room.
She’s always been a very simplistic person, never been one for clutter and unnecessary decorations. She has a clock on one wall and the cross of Christ on another beside a photo of her late mother.
Digging through the pockets of his slacks, Harry retrieves his phone and shoots Niall a quick text.
Harry: Can’t make it in tonight, family emergency. You okay to oversee the training?
A few moments pass before the little bubble appears at the bottom of his screen, which is quickly replaced with Niall’s reply.
Niall: No prob, hope alls ok. Is Y/N in?
Harry: No.
Shutting his phone off, he stuffs it back into his pocket. He sits in silence for a few moments, foot tapping against the carpeted floor until he hears a little movement from out in the hall.
Harry cranes his neck from where he sits in his chair, peering through the crack. Y/N pushes the medication trolley through the hallway, stopping outside of Mary’s door as she enters the room opposite.
“Evening, Malcolm. I’ve got your medication, mate. Do you want juice or water with it?”
He smiles at the softness of her voice, of how calm and collected she seems. He listens in as Malcolm attempts to refuse them, fights back a laugh as Y/N persuades him to take it because if you don’t, you know your hair will start to fall out again and you told me Alice doesn’t like bald men.
He takes the medication and she leaves shortly after, moving onto the next room that Harry can’t hear from.
It’s roughly twenty minutes later when she’s returning to Mary’s room and offering Harry an apologetic smile. She’s got two mugs of tea in her hands as she passes one to Harry and sits in the chair beside him.
“I find it really admirable, what you do.” He tells her softly.
Y/N frowns a little, slightly embarrassed by the compliment but she shrugs it off. “I treat them how I’d want someone to treat my grandparents. Really, they’re all like extra Nan’s and Grandad’s to me.”
He smiles at her, believing what she says. Mary has always boasted about how amazing her Penny is. Harry knows she loves her job and the people she cares for. It makes his heart feel full.
“Have you always wanted to work in care?”
Y/N pulls a face as she thinks, a look that suggests no, not really.
“I actually wanted to be an air hostess,” she laughs to herself, like her dream job is completely irrational and totally out of reach.
Harry must admit that it does make his eyebrows raise. He doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who shares an interest in something like that.
“But my grandma passed away in a care home a few years ago. She was unwell, we thought she might’ve had a heart attack or a stroke or something in her sleep. The coroner concluded it was a heartache but it stemmed from a build-up of neglect. The nurses weren’t giving her the medication she needed and things like that. Sam ended up beating the shit out of the manager and he sued them. At my grandma’s funeral, I vowed to her I wouldn’t let that happen to anyone else’s grandparent again.”
Harry blinks at her, lips parted. He’s stunned, to say the least, and his heart feels heavy from her words. He can’t begin to imagine the anger and heartache she must’ve felt. Harry supposes that’s why she got so uptight about Mary’s fall.
“Jesus. Penny, I’m so sorry.”
His apology is genuine, she knows that. But she waves her hand to dismiss the condolence. It’s not something she likes to talk about. And she’s not entirely sure why she feels so comfortable sharing that with Harry.
“What about you?” She takes a sip of her tea. “Have you always wanted to be a boxer?”
Harry puffs out the air in his cheeks and shifts in his chair. “For the longest time, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I was a bit of a problem child as a kid, so my mum got me into boxing to help me learn respect and discipline. Didn’t think I’d love it as much as I did.”
Y/N listens intently to his words, watches the way his lips move with every syllable. She comes to the realisation that she could sit and listen to him speak for hours.
“After school, I started Uni… studying law.”
The irony in his voice has them both laughing quietly and Y/N has to purse her lips shut to not wake Mary. She can’t imagine Harry wearing a suit and tie all day every day. Though she does remember how handsome he looked at Sam’s funeral.
“I was on a night out with some friends one night down the pub, and this bloke was just on one. We got into a fight outside and right after, Sam came up to me. Told me he was impressed and invited me to come and train at the gym.”
It’s funny, really. How in both of their stories, Sam plays such a crucial part. Sometimes Harry does wonder if he would’ve followed through with law school if Sam hadn’t scouted him. Though as much as he tries to imagine it, he can’t see his life for anything other than what it already is.
“Around the time Gran got unwell, Sam had offered me fights at the club. I knew she’d need private care and fighting would be the only way to afford it. My mum was out of work with knee surgery around the same time, so it was all falling on me. I did what I had to do. I dropped out of Uni and never looked back.”
It’s bittersweet, how his path was paved for him. Harry had to step up and support his family, and whatever plans he had before that had to be pushed aside and forgotten. Y/N finds it quite noble if she’s honest. But there’s sadness and pity in her gut.
“Where’s your mum now?” She asks.
Harry takes a sip of his drink.
“She works for a big publishing firm in the city. She travels a lot, I think she’s in New York at the moment.”
“Oh, wow.” Y/N’s eyes widen slightly.
Harry nods his head. “Yeah, she’s a big shot.” He laughs. “My mum sacrificed a lot for me and Gran, I’m trying my best to give it back. She doesn’t know that I pay for all of Gran’s care. She thinks it’s covered by her disability.”
Her heart hurts but it swells at the same time. Behind that rough and mean exterior, Harry seems to be one of the most gentle and genuine people Y/N has ever met. She just wants to give him a hug.
“I don’t mean to be nosy, so tell me if I’m overstepping. But as Mary’s keyworker, I handle all invoices and health care… and I know you make a lot of money from the fights. Why do you keep her here when you could afford something more lavish?”
She hopes it doesn’t come off the wrong way — she already thinks it’s incredible what he’s doing for his family. But she can’t help but wonder.
“Honestly?” He asks, and Y/N nods. “Because of you. She loves living here and she loves you. Whenever I visit, it’s always Penny this, and Penny that. You’ve got no idea how at peace I feel with her living her, because of how incredible you are with her.”
Y/N’s not sure when the tears began to well in her eyes but when they begin to fall down her cheek, Harry is quick to wipe them away softly with the pad of his thumb.
They’re both aware of how intimate his little act was, so he’s quick to sit back in his chair and clear his throat.
“As for the money, I save most of it for my future children and stuff. I don’t want to do this forever, but now Sam’s gone… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk away from it. It’s all I’ve got left of him.”
Everything he says is loaded to Y/N. Future children, her late brother. She’s not sure if she pegged Harry for the type to want children, but she constantly has to remind herself that she doesn’t know him, and every time they speak she learns something new.
The mention of Sam makes her heart hurt. And in the past two weeks, she’s begun to adopt the same mindset that Harry already has. Now she’s part of it, she doesn’t think she could let the club go. Much like Harry, it’s one of the only things she has left of Sam, too.
They sit like that for another hour or so, just talking and learning more about each other. Harry shares stories about Mary, and Y/N listens intently to the mirage of the older woman’s life.
Y/N is about to ask another question when their little story time is interrupted by two male paramedics knocking on the door of Mary’s room.
Y/N’s the first to stand, offering a polite smile as she shakes both of their hands. “Hi, I’m Y/N, Mary’s keyworker. This is Harry,” she gestures to him, “Mary’s grandson.”
The two paramedics introduce themselves as Darren and Olli as they lug their equipment into the room with them. Harry sits back to allow them their space as they wake Mary from her light slumber.
He watches as Y/N softly explains what’s happening and that she needs to be checked over by the nice paramedics. They’re all thankful that Mary doesn’t kick up a fuss about it, and allows Darren and Olli to gently examine her hips.
“Been a while since a strapping young bloke has had his hands all over my hips… let alone two of ya.”
Harry closes his eyes in embarrassment as Y/N stifles her laugh. No matter how long she’s been caring for Mary, she never fails to give Y/N the giggles. And it doesn’t help when she mumbles something along the lines of ‘I should fall over more often’, under her breath.
Olli gently pushes pressure on her left hip. “Is that giving you any discomfort, Mary?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, absolutely not, petal. You can keep doing that.”
“Gran!”
It’s Olli’s turn to stifle his amusement as he removes his hands from her hips and takes off his gloves. He turns to Harry and Y/N while Darren helps Mary to lay back and pulls her top back over her stomach.
“From what I can feel, it’s not broken. She may be a bit achy for a couple of days, so keep on top of painkillers but she’ll be fine.”
An audible gasp can be heard in the room from both Y/N and Harry as Mary gets comfortable in her bed again. Too pent up with both worry and relief, neither of them notice the way Mary looks at them, how her eyes are knowing and clueless at the same time.
It’s another twenty minutes or so before the paramedics leave to speak with the manager. Harry is quick to sit beside Mary, holding her hand and chastising her about how much she scared everyone.
Mary is even quicker to roll her eyes and smack the back of Harry’s hand lightly. “Oh, behave, Harry. I’m fine. The yummy paramedics even said so.”
Y/N can’t help but laugh at the way Harry’s face screws up at her words, quickly tugging his hand from her hold to cover his face with a groan.
“Harry’s right. You gave us all a scare.”
Mary looks at her with gentle eyes and huffs. “I’m okay, honestly. And I heard what you said earlier. As much as I love you both, I don’t need a babysitter. Both of you can shoo off and let me sleep. Come back tomorrow.”
Harry’s about to put up a fight about it, but Mary shakes her head. “No, I mean it. Go on, both of you. Piss off.”
Neither of them are shocked by her pottymouth. If anything, they’re thankful that’s all she had to say. They both know how venomous Mary’s words can be when she’s pissed off.
They say goodbye to her shortly after, traipsing back through the hall until they reach reception. Y/N leans over the desk and scribbles a note on a post-it, sticking it to the laptop to notify the staff that she’s left.
The brisk air of the late-night envelopes them harshly as they leave through the front door, barely given enough time to brace themselves for the frosty impact.
Y/N’s eyes scan the car park for her car, absentmindedly searching for Harry’s, too. “I’m over there,” she points to her car. “Did you drive here?”
The question makes Harry’s eyes widen and shoulders slump. “My car was playing up so I took it to the garage down the street. It’s still in there.”
Neither of them need to glance at their watches to know the garage won’t be open at nearly midnight. Y/N frowns but shrugs her shoulders.
“S’okay. Where do you live? I can drop you off.”
The offer warms his heart but not enough to give him hope. “Don’t worry about it, I’m like forty minutes away… I wouldn’t expect you to drive there and back before you even get home.”
The thought sounds a bit grim to her but she’s not about to leave him on the street to have to walk or pay an extortionate amount (which she’s sure he can afford) on an Uber.
“Well, you can just crash at mine then. I have work tomorrow afternoon, so I can bring you back and you can grab your car then?”
It stuns them both for a moment, her words. Y/N’s shocked she actually offered what was on her mind and Harry’s a little bewildered at how willing she is to have him, somewhat of a stranger, in her home.
He tilts his head slightly with gently pinched brows. “Are you sure?” Ever the gentleman.
She nods, like she’s trying to convince herself as well. “Honestly, I don’t mind. And it’s not like you’re a complete stranger.”
He laughs at that, he laughs hard. Maybe it’s the tiredness or maybe it’s the relief that Gran’s okay. Either way, he knows what she said wasn’t that funny.
She leads the way to her car and the drive back to her flat is quiet. Harry sings along softly to the radio, taking note of his surroundings.
There’s a cherry-scented freshener that hangs from the rearview mirror, a pair of running trainers sitting on one of the backseats and a small knitted blanket folded nearly just by his feet in the passenger footwell.
Harry thinks she’s the type of girl to have an emergency supply kit in her boot as well.
She does.
When they arrive at her apartment building, Harry follows her through the halls. She’s a little nervous, the closer they’re getting to her home. She panics as she struggles to remember if she left it a mess or still has clean clothes and underwear lying about anywhere.
As soon as she opens the door, she lets herself relax. No wild underwear to be seen, thank god.
Harry closes the door behind him and looks around. It’s nice, cosy. The walls are decorated with funky artwork and all of her furniture is slightly mismatched but it pulls together well.
He’s not sure what he expected, maybe something a bit more simplistic and minimalist. This is anything but — it feels a little intimate, like he’s seeing a deeper side to her. He can tell her flat reflects her personality.
“Cool artwork.”
She smiles sheepishly, hoping Harry can’t tell how nervous she is to have him in her home. He can. But he doesn’t say anything on the matter.
“Are you okay on the sofa?”
“Yeah, honestly I’m just thankful you’re letting me stay.”
Y/N smiles kindly at him. “Of course. There are blankets in the basket by the TV. Help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen. And the bathroom is just to the left of the dining table.”
It’s a little awkward for a moment. They’re not friendly enough for this to be normal, and Harry starts to feel that nervous tension too.
She says goodnight first, sauntering off to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. It takes a moment for Y/N to calm down a little. It’s been a while since an attractive man has been in her home, and she has to remind herself that previous men have been complete strangers for a hookup once in a blue moon.
Harry’s is not a hookup (unfortunately), and he is not a stranger. She repeats it in her head as she gets into her pyjamas and crawls into bed.
At least Y/N understands why she feels so anxious. Because Harry can’t put his finger on why he does. Too in his head about being in her home and it feeling so fucking intimate.
She doesn’t sleep all night.
Neither does Harry.
//
It’s been a week since Harry crashed on Y/N’s sofa and she hasn’t been able to look at it the same ever since. It’s been a bit of a struggle to try and wrap her head around these feelings she’s begun to harbour for Harry – she can’t get him out of her head.
They’ve spoken a couple of times here and there. Mostly him checking in about Gran or a tiny bit of flirtatious banter when she’s visited The Box a couple of evenings. Nothing at all to warrant how she feels at the moment.
Perhaps that’s why she’s so confused and conflicted.
And it doesn’t help that the second her mother called, the first thing she asked was if Y/N was dating or not yet.
“No mum.”
She hears the audible sigh from down the line and pinches her eyes shut to gain some form of self-control. Not today, Y/N – don’t snap at her today.
“Well, there’s a small amount of time left for you, I suppose. Anyway, have you seen your brother today?”
“Yes, I’m with him now Mum. I see you’ve already been down… the flowers look beautiful.”
She doesn’t reply to her daughter, not about Sam’s grave anyway. Instead, she changes the subject to something a little lighter. Y/N supposes it’s still hard for her, to talk about her deceased son. The one child she actually adored.
“Your father wanted me to ask if you’d like to come away with us this weekend?”
Y/N’s brows pinch at the proposition. A holiday with just her parents sounds like a living Hell if she’s entirely honest. And she’s more than a little shocked to even have received an invite. She reckons her Dad probably had something to do with that.
“Where are you going?” She asks.
Layla sighs, and Y/N imagines her scrutinising the new manicure she gets every Thursday. “Bora Bora,” she says with little to no enthusiasm.
Y/N stares at Sam’s headstone with a tired gaze in her eyes. “Only for three weeks, we need the break, to be honest. Are you coming or not?”
Only three weeks? Y/N finds herself biting down hard on her tongue. She’ll never understand how people with money can be so out of touch with the world sometimes. She scoffs, shaking her head to herself.
“Thank you for the offer, but no. I don’t have that kind of money and I can’t get three weeks off of work on such short notice.”
Layla hums. “Yes, I understand. Well, I have to start packing. Oh and please don’t get any dirt on Sammy’s headstone, I just got it power-washed.”
The line goes dead and Y/N stares at her brother's grave in astonishment. “Love you, too,” she mutters sarcastically as she pulls the phone away from her ear.
“Even in the dead, you’re still the goddamn favourite.”
She crouches down to get a better look at his plot. There are at least six bunches of fresh flowers in small plant potters that dig into the dirt. All beautiful and vibrant. Y/N places the seventh bunch in an empty plastic pot and uses her water bottle to fill it.
“Happy birthday, Sammy. I miss you.”
The cemetery is quiet, save for the few robins that perch on headstones close to her. From where she stands, Y/N spots an elderly couple walking hand in hand, no doubt visiting their own loved ones together.
Sometimes, she wishes she had someone to visit Sam with. Someone other than her parents.
She stays there for a few moments, doesn’t really know what to say. It irks her a little, knowing his body lies beneath that cold ground. Y/N can feel that familiar sinking feeling of depression consume her. The guilt, the pain.
She’d give everything to have him back, if even just for a day.
“It’s not getting any easier, Sammy.”
It’s like admitting defeat – like she’s not strong enough to cope with his loss. She is, but she certainly doesn’t feel the strength she needs to get her through.
From the peripheral of her vision, Y/N spots a figure approaching. She turns her head, the silhouette now much clearer and she’s sure she recognises the slender blonde woman that edges closer with every tentative step.
The woman from the reception.
She looks just as shocked as Y/N – clearly not expecting to bump into her but she must’ve known his family would visit on his birthday.
“Sorry,” the stranger starts. “I’ll come back later.”
Y/N shakes her head and calls out to her before she can fully turn to walk away. “Wait! I remember you, from the gym.” She chooses her words carefully, unsure how much she may know about the club itself.
The blonde nods her head and takes a few steps closer, eyes fixed on Sam’s grave as tears well in her eyes. “My name’s Amira… Sam and I were seeing each other when…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence, but Y/N gets it. Her lips part and her eyes fall downcast. Sammy never mentioned he was seeing anyone – but Y/N supposes there was a lot he didn’t mention in his lifetime.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I had no idea he was seeing anyone. He tended to keep that kind of stuff to himself.”
Amira smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She continues to clutch a fresh bouquet of flowers close to her chest and doesn’t say much more. Y/N begins to feel like maybe she’s the one intruding and quickly clears her throat, fixing the strap of her purse on her shoulder.
“Listen, my parents are going away for a few weeks. So if you’d like to stop by the house at all to go through some of Sam’s stuff, let me know. My number should be on the system at the gym anyway.”
There’s a look in Amira’s eyes as she takes in Y/N’s kind consideration. Maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s something else. But Y/N figures the least she could do is allow her a deeper look into Sam’s life and let her take whatever she may need to feel closer to him.
“Thank you, Y/N. That means so much to me. I’ll let you have time with him, I can come back later.”
She smiles at Amira, a genuine one this time and shakes her head. “No, don’t be silly. I’m heading out now anyway.” She brushes past Amira, hand reaching out to gently squeeze her arm. “Please don’t be a stranger. Sam might be gone, but our memories of him aren’t.”
//
The music is a bit deafening and Y/N’s ears are struggling to adjust to it. The Box isn’t all that busy this afternoon. A few on the weights and a couple sparring to the side of boxing bags.
What does catch her attention is Harry in the ring again. He’s not topless this time, instead wearing a simple red t-shirt and a pair of black gym shorts. His stance is firm as he holds his hands up (under those thick boxing pads) and allows Ricky to throw punches in timely combos.
Niall is the first to notice Y/N’s presence, and he’s soon by her side with a lopsided smile and ruffled hair. They share a bit of light chit-chat, nothing too deep or personal. Niall doesn’t want to tread in shallow water, not today.
And she’s far too focused on the way Harry’s biceps flex to focus on anything more than absentminded conversation. She’s not sure what’s gotten into her but she can’t get this man out of her head.
It’s been a long time since she’s had a crush, almost too long to remember what it even feels like. But the more she looks at him – admires him – she’s back to feeling those wanton butterflies and clammy hands.
Clearing her throat, she finally tears her gaze from the boxer and looks up at Niall. “I’ve got some invoices and stuff that I need to catch up on. Can you let Harry know I’m in the office when he’s done?”
Niall nods and just as quickly as their conversation starts, it ends.
Sitting in the office, she finds that there isn’t actually all that much to do. From what she can see, Harry has already made a start on this weeks memberships and was halfway through processing them on the system.
That tinge of guilt begins to nip at her gut again. She needs to talk to Harry about it, really. It’s not fair for him to do the majority of the work and only own a quarter of the company. She either needs to up her game or convince him to take another twenty-five percent.
But if Y/N has learnt anything about Harry by now, it’s that he will not take any more of this godforsaken company. So she finds herself making a mental note to put in more than just three evenings a week at this place.
She’s a few minutes into finishing the last of the memberships when Harry knocks on the door and enters. He’s hot and sweaty and his dishevelled hair only makes him look even more attractive than usual.
Lord have fucking mercy, she can’t handle this.
“Hey,” he greets her in a gruff voice.
She has to swallow down the lump in her throat before she can reply (a little too squeaky for her liking, and she’s wondering what the fuck is wrong with her).
“Have you seen Sammy today yet?”
Y/N nods with a sigh. “Yeah, just got back from there actually. Have you?”
Harry hums. “Yeah, I saw him this morning.”
He’s hunched over now, ruffling through his gym bag for his water bottle when he stands straight again and takes a sip of his drink.
“You’re probably spending the evening with your family, but a bunch of us are gonna go down to the pub for a few drinks for Sammy’s birthday. You’re more than welcome to join at some point if you’d like.”
The offer warms her heart to no end. It’s nice to hear how much people loved and respected him. Enough to celebrate his birthday even when he’s no longer here.
She also thinks it’s cute that he thinks she’ll be with her family. As if anything about her and her parents' relationship is healthy.
“I’ll be there,” she says a little too quickly. “My parents are busy packing for their spontaneous trip to Bora Bora. And my mother is insufferable so that’s just a big fat no to family time.”
Harry raises his eyebrows, a small quirk of a smile on his lips. Her words are nothing new to him. Despite being the favourite, Sam always had his moments to moan about their parents, too. Used to say the same thing about their mother being insufferable.
“You’re not going with them?”
“No!” She laughs and the sound makes Harry smile. “I can’t afford a spontaneous three-week vacation and I can’t get the time off work so short notice either.”
She watches Harry open the middle drawer of the silver filing cabinet and pull out an overly stuffed envelope. He hands it to her, brows raised expectantly for her to take it.
It’s heavy, and her name is written in his scribbled handwriting and she finds herself looking at it for a second too long.
“It’s your month's wages.”
She peers inside, eyes wide. Y/N looks back at him. “How much is this?”
“Ten grand.”
Her eyes widen even more. “I’m sorry…” she blinks, “Ten fucking grand? For a month?”
Harry shrugs, finally deciding to take a seat opposite her. “That’s what Sam used to pay himself monthly. You own the same amount that he did.”
Y/N stares at him for a moment. She wonders if this amount of cash is normal to Harry and by the way he doesn’t bat an eyelid, she supposes it is.
“Well I’m not Sam and you’re doing more work than me,” she blubbers. “You should be getting paid more.”
She tries to shove the envelope across the table and into his hands but he won’t have any of it. Harry laughs at her, shaking his head like she’s the ridiculous one.
“I get paid enough, believe me.” He pushes the envelope back over to her and she stares at it.
Y/N has never seen that much money in cash with her name on. She’s never even had that much money at once before. The possibilities are endless as she thinks of what she could do with it.
She could join her parents in Bora Bora and fuck work off completely if she’s getting paid that every month. But she won’t.
She could also redecorate her entire flat and do out her wardrobe twice over with just that single month's wage, but she knows she won’t.
Because Y/N will probably tuck it away under her bed later tonight and be too afraid to spend a single penny of it.
And Harry notices the way she falls into her mind. She hasn’t taken her eyes off the envelope but she’s still yet to touch it again. He figures it’ll take a while for her to become a bit more accustomed to this.
He taps his fingers on the desk, gaining her attention. “Penny, it’s your money. Do whatever you see fit with it. Save it, spend it, give it away. Do what you want.”
Her eyes soften a little, appreciating his encouragement. It still feels wrong, though. To accept that amount of money for doing virtually nothing when people out there who work forty-plus hours every week and still struggle to pay their bills on time.
She hangs onto the suggestion of giving it away. Maybe she’ll donate it to charity. Not all of it — she does need her oil changed and a new tyre — but most of it.
Then a thought occurs to her and her eyebrows raise. It’s like Harry already knows what she’s going to suggest and he’s shaking his head again with a raspy laugh that Y/N feels between her legs.
“No,” he tells her. “You can’t give it away to me.”
//
If someone had warned her what tonight would look like before she left The Box, Y/N would’ve laughed in their face and called them delusional.
The night had started like she’d expected. Y/N had driven to the pub with Harry, Niall and Ricky after they were showered and changed, and met up with everyone else where they started off with two shots each in honour of Sammy.
It continued like she’d expected. The group of them were spread across two booths and two tables — Y/N being one of the only women amongst the bunch of rowdy men — and drinks went down nicely as everyone took turns to reminisce on their favourite memories of her late brother.
But somewhere down the line of shots, jugs and a drinking game where you had to drink every time Ricky said ‘aye aye captain’ (which she learnt was his catchphrase), Harry had grown increasingly closer to Y/N.
And now, the two of them have somehow moved deeper into the booth. Harry sits right in the corner with Y/N tucked into his side. About twenty minutes ago, his arm had found its way across her shoulder and has been comfortably resting there ever since.
His fingers gently stroke the exposed skin of the middle of her bicep and she’s so close to him that half of her back is pressed against his chest.
They’ve both had a fair amount to drink, but Harry seems significantly more sober than she does. Maybe it’s because she’s the one feeling a little hot about their close proximity.
And it’s not that she minds it, because she absolutely fucking doesn’t. She’s revelling in it, if she’s completely honest. But she’s shocked and confused as to where this touchy side of Harry has come from and why.
And just when she thinks they couldn’t get any closer, Harry’s leaning his head just enough so his lips ghost her ear as he whispers something jokingly about whatever it is that Niall has said.
She can’t fucking focus. Out of nowhere this man has come into her life and flipped it 180. And in just a month of knowing one another, she's down bad and ready to say yes to anything he could ever want.
Y/N has to force a breathy laugh to whatever he’s just whispered. She can’t think straight, unable to hear a thing when all she can think about is the way his lips feel against the shell of her ear.
And Harry’s noticed.
After her third drink, he noticed how she looked at him a little longer than usual. At first, he thought nothing of it, then she did it again and again and her eyes grew shy whenever he looked at her.
It made his stomach flip. She’s attractive, incredibly so. And Harry’s no blind man. Even before Sam had passed, he knew what she looked like and he found her quite fit.
But this odd friendship they have, where he’s gotten to know her and came to the realisation that she’s the one to care for his Gran… it’s blown that initial attraction tenfold.
So maybe he did play up to it a little bit. Maybe he threw his arm around her shoulder to test the waters, to see if she’d pull away or ask him not to.
But she didn’t pull away and she didn’t say a word. So Harry finally let himself consider the fact that she may find him just as attractive as he finds her.
“Y’look really pretty, by the way.”
Oof. Way to fucking play it cool, Harry.
Her head snaps up in his direction and the mumbled tone of his voice. She heard him. Loud and clear. And she’s blinking up at him like he holds the stars in the sky.
“What?” she breathes.
Harry gulps, visibly. “I said you look really pretty today.”
She thought she heard him right. But it doesn’t hurt to hear it for a second time. Y/N’s skin grows warm as she looks at him, and his eyes are lingering on her lips.
Her heart skips a beat or two, breathing lodged in her throat. The way he looks at her has her stone-cold sober, no longer feeling the effects of alcohol. Instead, she feels the heat that radiates from Harry’s and the palpable tension between them.
He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from her mouth — the way her plump lips part and her eyes drop down to his. The thought of kissing her is at the front of his mind, but before he can decide if he’ll act on impulse or not, a glass shatters on the other table and the moment is gone.
Niall’s drunkenly mopping up a spilt beer with paper towels and an empty crisp packet, and Y/N is no longer tucked into his hold. She’s leaning forward to take a look at the damage and Harry’s left feeling a little disappointed.
He shifts in the booth, sitting upright and clearing his throat as he recomposes himself. Niall’s little accident has drawn a fair amount of attention toward the group, and when Harry eyes the other patrons of the pub, his heart sinks to his stomach at one possee in particular.
They’re already looking at him. At her. It takes every ounce of self-control to not approach and beat the shit out of them. Who the fuck do they think they are?
Showing up here, on Sammy’s birthday after what they did to him. Harry’s hands are balled into fists at his sides, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. His knee begins to bounce, the anger getting the better of him.
Ryce, George and Scott — the three men who drove Sam off the road and ended his life. They remain staring, vile smirks tugging at the corners of their lips.
Harry’s consistent knee jitters finally catches Y/N’s attention and when she looks at him, she’s alarmed by his sudden change in composure. She can read that look on any man’s face. He’s got itchy knuckles.
“Harry,” she says softly, palm resting on his thigh.
He forces himself to tear his gaze away from the men and look down at her. Her brows are pinched, confusion evident in her voice. Harry plasters a fake, unbelieving smile on his face.
“Nothing,” he says tightly.
His gaze averts to his pint on the table and Y/N takes the opportunity to follow his previous line of sight. The three men are still looking over, all a little jagged on the edges. Their presence doesn’t sit well with Y/N.
Perhaps that’s because of how she’s seen Harry react to them, or maybe it’s just the uncomfortable stares and creepy vibe they exude.
Either way, it has her shuffling back into the booth and closer to Harry again.
It’s a little while later and a few drinks more when Y/N tells Harry she’s going to go home. He’s been on edge the past forty-five minutes and while Y/N was quick to forget the trio of strangers, Harry wasn’t.
He watched them for the final thirty minutes of their stay before he finally began to calm down a little. Harry’s still on edge and Y/N can tell, maybe that’s why she asks if he’ll walk her to her car.
He looks at her, brows pinched. “I’m not letting you behind a wheel, Penny. You’ve been drinking. I’ll drive you home.”
She tilts her head, that nickname awakening butterflies in her stomach. “You’ve been drinking, too,” she points out.
Harry smiles toothily. “But I can handle my drink and I’m sobered up anyway. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
Y/N doesn’t argue with that. She lets him grab her purse and guide her out of the booth, follows him through the group as they both say their goodbyes.
When they get outside and reach Y/N’s car, Harry opens the passenger door for her as she hands him his keys. It takes him a moment to get comfortable in her seat, familiarising himself with her model before he starts the engine and pulls out of the parking space.
The drive to her flat is quiet, a little bit of chit-chat here and there. She feels hot, watching him drive around in her car with ease. There’s something about it — the way his arms flex as he grips the wheel, how his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth whenever he takes a tight turn.
She hates to admit that he drives better than her.
By the time they arrive back at her apartment building, Y/N’s feeling a lot more sober than when they first left the pub. She’s greeted with a hefty wave of arousal, however, when Harry reverses into her parking space with his arm on the back of her headrest.
It’s a struggle to walk up to her flat with her thighs clenched tightly together, but she makes it work and Harry doesn’t seem to notice. He walks her straight to her door, hands her the keys and watches as she unlocks it.
For some reason, Harry feels a little underwhelmed. He didn’t want the night to end so abruptly. He wanted to stay with her a little longer, maybe even get a little closer.
So when she turns around with a shy smile and presses onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss to his check, he’s a little taken aback.
It’s gentle, how her lips meet his skin, but she doesn’t cower back down after. Her face is still close, her lips just barely ghosting his as she slowly starts to pull away. Y/N’s eyes flicker up to meet Harry’s to find them already staring down at her.
She’s not sure if it’s the final effects of the alcohol or something else that possesses her to press her lips against his, but she lets the intrusive thoughts win. She kisses him and he kisses her back just as softly.
Her heart is racing, mind blank and she can’t think about anything other than the way his soft lips feel on hers and how his hands reach for her hips to hold her in place.
Harry’s the one that pulls away first, just enough for the tips of their noses to brush and he’s staring down at Y/N with blown pupils.
She swallows thickly, suddenly doubting the signs he suggested earlier this evening.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly says.
Harry shakes his head, his hold on her hips tightening. “Don’t be.”
His lips are back on hers, messier and needier than before. Y/N’s hands are quick to reach for his head — fingers tangling into his unruly hair.
Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip, parting her mouth until they taste one another. Amid the kiss, he guides her into the flat, kicking the door shut behind them with his foot.
Y/N’s hand leaves his hair and trails down his body in desperate search of something she can tug at. His find the backs of her thighs and with ease, lifts her in his hold. Legs wrapped around his waist, her arms circle his neck as he guides their bodies to the sofa, crawling on top of Y/N.
Harry kisses down her neck, nipping at the taut skin as she arches her back and her chest presses into his.
“Are you sure?” he mumbles against her collarbone.
Y/N nods, not an ounce of doubt in her mind. His fingers find the hem of her t-shirt and he rolls it up her body, tugging it off her arms and over her head.
She’s bare beneath it; with supple breasts and pearled nipples. Harry doesn’t think twice before leaning down and taking one into his mouth, swirling his tongue across the hardened nub.
Y/N’s back arches, chest pushing into his face as her fingertips continue to scratch at his scalp. Harry swirls his tongue around her, teeth biting down and a sharp gasp leaves her lips.
Trailing kisses up her clavicle, Harry meets her lips again, open mouths and hot tongues. He steadies his weight above her, slotted between her parted thighs.
“D’you have a condom?” he mutters into the kiss.
Y/N hums, sitting up as she chases his lips. “In the bedroom.”
He wraps her legs around his waist and lifts them both from the sofa, lips attached once again as he guides them to what he remembers to be her bedroom.
He’s allowed no time to take a look at her room, not that he’s interested anyway. Harry lays her flat in the middle of the bed, crawling on top to situate himself between her thighs again.
It’s dark, traces of moonlight barely seeping through the slits of her bedroom curtains. It offers an angelic hue over her soft body, a sight that Harry never wants to forget.
Her fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt, swooping underneath to feel the warm, toned skin of his abdomen. Harry leans back on his knees just enough to allow him space to remove his top, flinging it somewhere across the darkened room.
Y/N admires him for a moment, swallowing thickly. His pupils are blown, lips swollen and pink. She watches the way Harry’s chest rises and falls with each breath, takes a second to gawk at the divots of his abs and the dark tattoos that ink his golden skin.
She expects him to crawl back over her body, to kiss her like his life depends on it. But he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers loop into the waistband of her flared leggings and he slowly pulls them down the length of legs.
It leaves her almost bare, wearing just a simple black thong but the sight of it has Harry’s cock twitching in his pants. His gaze roams up her body until he finds her eyes, blown and hooded. He doesn’t break that contact as he stands from the bed and unbuckles his belt. He continues to stare into her soul as he tugs them down his toned thighs and kicks them off to the side.
Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat in anticipation of the big reveal. But he doesn’t offer it. He climbs back onto the bed, heavy palms hot on her inner thighs as he spreads her legs apart for him.
She breaks eye contact first, eyes fluttering closed when Harry slowly inches his face closer to her clothed cunt. She feels his hot breath fan over her lower tummy, feels him nip at the skin by her hip before his fingers loop into the top of her panties and he drags them down to her ankles.
She’s bare before him, core soaked and puffy from arousal. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so fucking sexy and delicious in his entire life, and it takes all self-restraint to not bury his face between her thighs for the foreseeable future.
He doesn’t know what she wants or what she likes, so to play it safely, Harry peppers kisses from her ankles to her tummy and noses at the underside of her breasts. Their lips meet soon after, Y/N’s fingers tangling in his hair.
She blindly reaches for her bedside table, fingers nimbly searching for a foil packet. Her mind feels dizzy – hazy – at the feeling of Harry’s mouth on hers. She’s seeping down onto the mattress, her arousal too much all at once as his body rests between her legs; his cock nudging against her inner thigh beneath the fabric of his boxers.
Harry reaches a hand down between their bodies, can practically feel the heat from her hot cunt as his fingers hover over her slit. He gently pushes his middle finger through her folds, his skin immediately immersed in wetness as he does so.
Y/N gasps softly into his mouth, hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. “Please,” she whimpers, voice quiet.
The sound of her begging has his cock leaping, desperate to be buried inside her. Harry bites back a groan and swirls his finger around her arousal, spreading it across her cunt. He teases at her puckering hole, watches how her body responds to his touch. Like she was fucking made for him.
“You’re so wet, Penny.”
She shakes her head, breaking her lips from his. “Don’t call me that,” she laughs breathily, “Not when we’re doing this.”
Harry grins against her mouth, pulling away just enough to get a better look at her face. God, she’s fucking stunning.
With his eyes on hers, he gently pushes his finger through her cunt, cock twitching at just how tight she clamps around him.
“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”
Her eyes roll to the back of her head, Harry’s smirk growing tenfold. He moves his wrist slowly, curling his finger against the spongy part of her g-spot as small, broken whimpers escape her lips.
He wants to kiss her, feel her plump lips on his again but the sight is too consuming. Watching her face contort in the pleasure that he’s inflicting her.
“Har, please.”
Her voice does something to him, something sinister and desperate. He coos down at her, enjoying the dynamic they seem to have a bit too much — how she submits to his touch and gives him all control.
“Be patient, baby. You’re so tight, I need to stretch you out a little for me first.”
He adds a second finger, struggles to tuck them into her cunt as he quickens the pace of his hand. She feels the burn of the intrusion but welcomes it regardless. His fingers are thick, stretching her better than hers do.
Y/N’s hips begin to roll against his palm, eagerly chasing more when he doesn’t offer it. He’s bulging in his boxers, desperate for relief with every sweet cry she mumbles out.
“Please, Har. I need you.”
He struggles to keep himself composed at how needy she sounds. Harry backs up onto his knees, continues fucking her with his fingers and uses his other hand to shimmy down his boxers.
Y/N watches with wide eyes. He’s huge – long and thick and so much fucking bigger than anything that she’s ever had before. The sight of him makes her stomach twitch in nerves, worried she won’t be able to take him.
Harry seems to notice her inner turmoil as he snatches the condom from the side of the bed and tears the foil open with his teeth. He removes his fingers from her cunt, brings them to his lips to get a taste.
She’s sweet on his tongue, and in that moment, Harry makes a promise to himself that this won’t be just a one-time thing.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he says, pinching the tip of the condom and rolling it down his thick length. “I’ll make it fit.”
She shudders when he lines himself with her dripping hole, swirling his tip around her arousal and gently nudging his way through. The burn is unlike before – much more prominent and harsh. And it doesn’t ease the further he fills her. She struggles to take him, to stretch around his cock. But Harry will fuck into her all night to get her accustomed to his size. To break her in.
Harry thinks he could explode at any minute. It’s been a long time since he’d had a cunt grip him the way hers does. And he knows full well just how good she’ll milk him dry of everything he has to offer.
He grits his teeth in an attempt to control his desire of fucking her silly. Not yet, he has to tell himself. She’s not ready for that.
“Doin’ so well, baby. So fuckin’ tight.”
Her head rolls back and his words offer a sweet relief to the initial sting. With every gentle whisper he breathes, she takes more and more of him. He’s close to nudging at her cervix, close to bottoming out.
“More,” she chokes. “Fuck me, Har. I need more.”
His movements are on the slower side to begin with – a proven struggle to pull out and back in with how tight her pussy grips him. But with every thrust of Harry’s hips, the better she stretches and the deeper he goes.
Her tits begin to bounce on her chest with every harsh movement he offers. Y/N’s hands reach for them, fingers tweaking at her hardened nipples and her hips move in circles against his own.
Harry sits back on his knees to watch as he fucks her, to admire just how good he’s making her feel. She’s breathless, brows pinched and mouth parted. He wants to touch and taste every fucking inch of her body – to bury himself so deep inside she begs him to never leave.
It’s primal, how he looks at her, thinks of her. The idea of anyone else having her like this makes him sick, angry. The thought alone has his vision blurring red and he struggles to snap out of such a dominant and protective mindset.
His. She’s all his whether she knows it or not.
“Tight little cunt, baby. Jesus Christ… fucking made for me.”
It’s filthy, the way he spits at her is the most sexy thing. How he claims her, owns her. No one could ever fuck her the way he is, no one could have her withering and begging and crying in pleasure. No one but him.
“Yes, yes,” she pants out.
All she wants is to please him, give him everything he wants and take anything he’ll offer in return. Her body starts to melt, into his touch, his words, his presence. He’s taking her somewhere she’s never been before and there’s no better feeling.
Harry’s cock rubs deliciously against her her g-spot, pinching at her cervix the deeper he gets. She’s soaked him, fully – his cock and his pubic bone. And the squelching sound her pussy makes is music to his fucking ears.
He’s struggling to see straight, eyes glossy as sweat begins to dot his hairline. If she feels this good now, he can’t imagine how warm and wet she’d feel raw – without the flimsy rubber between them. He’ll dream of it, how soft her cunt would be wrapped around his cock.
Christ, the thought has him twitching between her walls, splutters of guttural moans falling from his lips. The sounds are fuel to Y/N’s fire, her eyes snapping open to finally take a look at him.
He’s fucked out, head thrown back and bottom lip tight between his teeth. His stomach is tensed, knuckles white as he grips her hips, and it’s all because of her. She’s got him feeling like this, so fucked out and feral.
Y/N grinds her hips against him, faster now as she meets his pace. She’s sitting up on her elbows to watch where his cock nuzzles into her, watching how her arousal soaks the base of his cock and his lower tummy.
She can feel him in her stomach, how he’s almost nudging at her organs to make room for himself. She’s never felt so excited before, bare and naked – fucking under the moonlight in her pitch-black bedroom.
Maybe it’s the excitement or maybe it’s Harry’s fingers rubbing at her clit that sends her spiralling – sobbing out his name and begging for mercy. He doesn’t relent, he won’t. He wants to feel her exploding around him, wants to feel her close in on him until he’s releasing deep in her cunt, albeit in the condom.
It hits her like a fist – straight in her face. She’s coming over his cock, legs trembling and cunt convulsing as she sobs.
“Fuckkk, Daddy, please!”
Harry’s orgasm creeps up on him as his eyes widen at the name. He comes with her, fast and hard and if he wasn’t wearing a condom, he’d already be dripping out of her. Y/N’s legs continue to tremble, cunt squeezing him so tight that Harry thinks he could pass out.
He’s desperate to catch his breath, and she’s no better. Gentle whimpers continue to rake through her body as she slowly settles down from her high. Harry stares down at her, fucked out and body limp. The reality of what they’ve just done sits heavy in his stomach and he worries she’ll ask him to leave, that she regrets it.
But she doesn’t. Instead, Y/N whimpers his name as he slowly pulls out and reaches her hands down for him. He coos her, taps her thigh gently before tugging off the condom and tying it up.
She lies there, alone as Harry leaves the room. Worry is quick to consume her, the anxiety that he’s about to leave without another word. But he doesn’t. He returns to her bedroom with a damp cloth and his boxers back on his lower half.
He’s gentle as he wipes her down, helps settle her tired and aching body beneath a blanket and she doesn’t want to be the type that cries after sex, but no one has ever given her this kind of aftercare before. It all feels a little too domestic.
Not to Harry. Not really, anyway – he’s not the type to fuck and leave, not usually. It doesn’t feel foreign to help her get clean or tuck her in, and he only surprises her further when he lays beside her under the blanket, too.
“You’re staying?” she peeps out.
Harry hums, face close to hers. “If you want me to.” Her eyes are heavy as she covers her mouth to stifle a yawn.
“At least wait until I’m asleep before you sneak out.”
So, he does.
//
Thank you for sticking it out lol, part two will be posted next week, so let me know if you want to be added to my general tag list to be notified <3
Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!!
Tags: @kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#imagine harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles fic#harry styles oneshot#the box#boxerry
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Y!Rita wants to fight.
#please Prez#please take off Rita's coat during the swap#If you decided to have the mask off in public during the swap#please have the coat off for a brief moment#im begging#Toei shouldn't have showed us what Rita's shirt looks like under that coat...#because I really wanna see them without that damn coat!#kingohger#king ohger#ohsama sentai kingohger#rita kaniska#rita kanisuka#yanma gast#yanma gust#team wings#doodle#kingoh doodles
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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ COME BACK TO BED — levi ackerman
summary . . . you crave levi, but he isn't there when you wake up.
contents . . . f!reader, nsfw mdni, cock warming, office (?) sex, creampie, piv, unprotected sex, fluff, honestly i haven't been in much of a mood to write smut but this has been in my drafts for a while so it gets really soft at the end— 2.2k
you walk into the room, frowning at the sight of your lover still behind his desk, bent over the parchment. light shadows his face, sparkling over him like a candle, illuminating him in a yellow hue. he’s so beautiful, and you ache for him. the desperation inside of you only grows, even though it is dually coated in worry.
“levi?” you say, lips drawn down as you approach, blinking away your sleepiness. “why are you still working?”
it’s nearly three in the morning; the bed was cold and empty when you left, and the middle of winter was unforgiving. though levi didn’t sleep often, he, at least, made an effort to when you were at his side. tonight, though, it seems he’s given up on the matter, scribbling notes on the paperwork instead.
“i have to finish this by tomorrow,” levi says, dismissive, not even bothering to glance up.
your frown deepens, and you repeat his name, softer as you come around the side of the desk. you’d woken up so desperate for him, and when he was not there to coax an orgasm out of you, you’d tried to take on the task yourself.
though, your fingers didn’t feel as nice as his did, hadn’t reached the places inside of you that his cock could. and, you craved it, craved him so much that you hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.
“come back to bed,” you mutter, but even then, you can hear the desperation in your voice, the subtle tone that it takes on whenever you want him badly.
his writing stops. he turns back to you, eyes hardening as you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. you run your soft fingertips along the juncture between his neck and jaw, batting your eyelashes at him so sweetly.
there’s a dark look in his irises that you pick up on easily, but you can’t tell if he’s irritated with you, or if it’s the lust that is spreading in the ocean of his eyes. his jaw sets, and his normally straight mouth draws tighter. “i have to finish this.”
“can i stay here, then?”
he sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek. “i’m—”
you can already hear his protest, how he’ll say your name so softly in an apology, kiss you on the lips before sending you back to your shared room. but you’re determined to get your way tonight, and you can feel the wetness gathering between your legs, the ache still thrumming through your body.
“want you inside me, levi,” you say softly, almost begging as you lean down to whisper into his ear. “please.”
levi stops, eyeing you with the intensity that he faces with everyone, an intensity that doesn’t always soften for you. still, by now, you’re used to it — find it endearing, really, how serious he can be.
“you going to be a distraction?” levi scans your face.
you jut your lower lip out just a bit, almost pouting, “no,” you promise. “just want to feel you.”
for a moment, he considers, before finally relenting. levi sighs, then pulls back the chair, his strong thighs on display as you maneuver yourself onto his lap. even the brief feeling of his knee against your clothed cunt sends a sharp whimper through you.
“you can’t move. i’ve put this off for long enough.”
“since when did you care about any of that?” you ask, yawning as you slip your pants off your hips. “i thought hange did the paperwork, anyway.”
“if only.” he gives you a pointed look, tracing your jaw with his thumb. “just sit still.”
levi focuses his attention back on the paperwork, and when you spare a brief glance at it, you notice that it’s reports from the past few missions. for the government in the interior, assigned specifically to captain levi.
you refrain from a sarcastic remark, and instead, slide levi’s zipper down, waiting for any reaction. he gives you none, signs his name on the bottom line, and flips the parchment over.
“levi,” you start, but he shushes you again, kissing your cheek dismissively.
“no talking.”
“you’re so rude.”
he raises his eyebrow, but you slide his cock out of his pants, warming it in your palm. a soft little sigh leaves him as you stroke him until he’s hard, but he schools his expression into a neutral position, leaning back in the chair.
you’re naked from the waist down, but he doesn’t seem to care. with something of a frown, you slip his cock inside you and sink your hips down. your fingers dig into his shoulders as you move, sliding right into him.
levi’s dark eyes dart towards you. “shit,” he gasps, his other hand holding onto your hips. “why are you so wet already?”
a small whimper leaves you as he fills you up, stretches your walls, as you settle onto his cock. though it feels so good, you squeeze his arms and try not to move. “you weren’t there when i woke up,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the space between his neck. “so i tried to take care of it myself.”
levi’s eyes flash. “dirty girl.” his voice is deeper, a rumble that you feel in his chest. “couldn’t help but touch yourself to the thought of me when i wasn’t there, hm? but i bet your fingers weren’t enough, were they?”
you exhale deeply, shaking with the need to move as your walls flutter around him. “levi.”
“needed my cock inside you instead, didn’t you, love? probably would’ve begged me to fuck you until you were tired enough to fall back asleep.”
“god, levi, please.” you start, and you shift your hips once. your clit rubs right against him, his long cock settling inside you as a heavy moan almost escapes. instead, you bite down hard on his neck; but levi forces you down even harder on his lap, his eyes relentless.
“i told you not to move, didn’t i?”
you blink back at him, but his face is serious, hardened lines stretching from each angle of his face. and though you want fuck yourself on his dick, and every atom in your being tells you to do so, you listen to him. somehow, you refrain from shifting your hips again.
sitting still, you bury your face into his neck and heave a great sigh, brushing the delicate skin beneath his jaw.
“good girl,” levi says flippantly, his long, slender finger grazing up your spine. the simple words alone send a pulse straight through your body, and you whimper against him, your cunt squeezing tighter, wet from the deep intonation of his voice.
levi says nothing else, but you can feel his smirk as he kisses your temple. he never fails to remind you how precious you are to him, even when he is a bit short with you. and even though he is never the best about telling you how much he loves you, his affections run deep.
he plays with the end of your hair, soothingly, and though you can’t ignore him deep inside you, it almost lulls you back into a peaceful sleep.
after what feels like hours of subtle torture, you speak again.
“levi,” you hum against his throat, when he flips another page, signing his name on the dotted line. “i love you so much.”
his hand stills on your back, fingers tapping once against your spine before resuming. it’s still difficult for him to repeat the words, but you know it’s only out of his fear that you will one day be taken away from him. levi squeezes your hip once more, huffs, and sets the pen down.
“i’m certain you know how much you mean to me,” levi returns, pulling you away from his neck so that you’re able to face him once again. “you’re supposed to be being quiet.”
his face is stern, but his eyes are anything but; soft and loving. levi’s cheeks are flushed red, and though he is strong — the strongest — that alone is not enough to combat how he feels when he’s inside you. it brings a small, knowing smile to your face.
“i was being sweet,” you say, sleepily, testing your luck by lifting your hips and settling them once more. the feeling is more intense than you’d expected, and a little moan escapes your mouth, lips parting softly. “i do love you.”
“i’m certain you’re just trying to butter me up,” levi’s mouth is against your own, the words leaving on a shaky breath, tickling your skin. “so you can get what you want.”
you laugh, fanning your fingertips against his cheeks. “is it working?”
levi spares you one more hardened expression, tightly drawing his mouth together, before he’s lifting you, shifting you onto the desk, your back pressed against the papers. “unfortunately,” he grunts, kissing all over your face before he threads his fingers with your own. “god. the things you do to me. can’t think straight.”
he thrusts up into you, hard, and you close your eyes, kissing him, much more slowly than the pace he sets with his hips. levi squeezes your palm tightly, the other roaming across your chest, your stomach, before settling at your hips. “you’re everything to me, you know? my beautiful girl. don’t know what i’d do without you.”
you smile against his mouth and tug at his hair with your free hand, feeling the soft tendrils between your fingers. it’s ironic, that he thinks you’re beautiful, when you’re certain he’s the most angelic creature you’ve ever seen. “i’m not going anywhere, levi. i promise.”
levi speeds up, involuntarily, eyes so intense as he watches every subtle change of your expression. but you are too sleepy to do much but breathe into his mouth, soft little moans that have levi thrusting into you twice as hard.
it doesn’t take long for him to coax the first orgasm out of you, and you’re barely able to whisper his name before you clench around him, squeezing the palm that’s still locked within your own.
levi smiles, but it’s snarky, a mix between satisfaction and annoyance. “looks like you got your way after all.”
you laugh, breathless, kissing across his cheeks as he grows sloppy, chest heaving with the weight of his exhales. though levi wants to pin this all on you, you can tell that he needs to relax too. the past few hours without a moment of sleep, doing nothing but paperwork, have taken a toll on him.
“must be so hard for you, huh?” you tease, eyelashes fluttering closed as you lean against him, letting your forehead drop to his shoulder. “getting to fuck me on a desk like this. what a chore.”
“you shouldn’t talk to your captain like that,” levi teases, but he groans out the last few words, cheeks flushed from how close he is. lazily, your fingers run across his chest, and though a second orgasm is steadily building, you want to watch him come apart first.
“perhaps,” you say, smiling as you kiss his chest, your hair tickling the bottom of his jaw. “but i’m not talking to my captain, i’m talking to you, levi.” you lean back up to kiss him, once, again, just the softest brush of your lips. “and i want you to cum inside me.”
levi’s eyes flash, and you can see the moment that he unravels, the next few seconds where his movements get erratic. then, his features change, plump bottom lip separating from the top one. the look in his eyes grows distant, and his stomach flexes, abs tightening, before the heat of his cum shoots inside of you.
levi topples onto you, his chest landing on yours as you fall back onto the desk. his cock finally slips out of you.
“shit,” levi says, running his hands along your thighs, sweaty skin sticking to each other. “we’re going to ruin the papers.”
“who cares,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes before encircling levi’s neck with your arms. “the military police can deal with the mess.”
“you’re disgusting.”
“they’d probably get off on it, don’t you think? the interior is full of hedonists anyway.”
levi snorts. “maybe. but i prefer not to think about how they spend their free time.”
you laugh again, just a breath of air, and settle against him. levi is warm, his arms are strong, and he smells clean; a mix of soap and the sweet fragrant of citrus. he holds you so gently, despite all of the hardness that lingers in his body. you’ve never known anyone to feel so much like home.
“will you come to bed now?” you ask sleepily. “i don’t want to go to sleep alone.”
levi softens, and he traces your cheekbone with his thumb, as best he can at the awkward angle. “sure, love. i should get some rest anyway.”
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x female reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi x you#levi ackerman x y/n smut#levi ackerman smut#levi ackerman x fem!reader#aot x reader#aot x you#aot smut#snk smut#snk x reader#snk x you#attack on titan x female reader#attack on titan fanfiction#levi headcanons#levi imagine#aot x female reader#xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
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orange soda.
a. donaldson , you | nsfw |
The quiet sprinkle of evening dew quiets your racing nerves with each pitter-patter splashing against the pavement. You lay rested comfortably on the mattress of your boy-best friend's dormitory. You can hear the quickening hum of his heartbeat as you lay against the headboard. You estimated a near 120 beats each minute. A soft smile tugs on your lips at this realization, gently adjusting your position so that your forearm rests recklessly close to the curve in his aqua tennis shorts. He faintly chokes back a cough, a pink hue tinting his cheeks and nose. You glance up at him warmly, "You need water?" a sarcastic laughs leaves your lips. His flushed-red lips widen into a teethy smile, "It's on my nightstand, if you want to hand it me." You snootily roll your eyes in 'way to brush me off' way, twisting your body to grab the aluminum water that rest on his wooden night stand. "Why don't you get a smaller water bottle- this thing weighs a shit ton Art." You complain, surveying the vividly scattered stickers casually placed on the bottle. He places the water bottle to his lips, taking a sip before leaving it to lay in between his thighs, "I need to stay hydrated." he promptly says. You notice the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows, his jaw flexing to a cast a gentle shadow, lining his chin and neck. You scrunch your eyebrows together in disagreement, "and there aren't smaller water bottle that can do the same thing?" you quiz. His coy gaze softens your facial expression, "No." he denotes. "Doesn't it get heavy carrying around every day?" You urge, grabbing the water bottle, swiftly grazing his inner thigh. The sudden movement causes him to flinch, wincing as the cool metal is subsisted by your thumb and pointer finger. You cock an eyebrow at him, a curious look coats your face, "You good?" His body shifts as he sits up from leaning on the headboard, the wooden bed frame creaking in retaliation. "Yeah, I'm fine." he opposes. His pink-hue is punctuality replaced by a cherry-red tinge. A vivid red tints his face, followed by his neck and hands. He almost looks like he'd be hot to the touch. "Never had a girl touch your leg before?" you sarcastically joked, positioning the water bottle back onto the nightstand. "Shut up." He palms his face in mortification, brining his knees to his chest. "Stop acting like a virgin Donaldson." you tease, gently shoving his shoulder to the side. "Fuck off." he groans in desperation. "Oh I bet you'd love me to do that to you." your index finger playfully tracing the length of his thigh. He can only whine in an effort to retaliate, his skin glowing a deep red. "You can do better than that." you mockingly place your hand on his upper thigh, tenderly messaging the muscle, your fingers working carefully near the leg-holes of his tiny shorts. He whimpers at the contact, jerking his leg to the left. A grin dances across your lips, the grip you have on his thigh loosens. Your fingers begin to sketch the lining of his waistband, gently tugging on the stretchy fabric. You pause, gazing attentively at him for a brief moment, his eyes struggling to meet yours. " Art?" you ask, his stare coming to acknowledge yours, a look of desperation masks his face. "Please." he mutters, voice low and soft. "Please what-" you are interrupted by the warmth of his lips against your nape, his hands trailing down the length of your waist, to your hips. A soft moan escapes your lips, fingers rushing to pull at his blonde locks. You can feel the sensation of a cocky grin tug at his lips while he bruises your neck with his mouth, his hands desperately gripping your hips. "Art-" your voice breaks, husky, and rough. "Shit-", you breathe. Art places gentle kisses from your neck to your jaw, finally meeting your lips with his own. They are soft, and have that generic chapstick flavor. He kisses you with a gentleness you're not used to, like as if he made one wrong move, he would hurt you. That thought brings a warmth to your stomach, its tickling and teasing you.
Art beckons you closer, pulling you to his chest with his bicep. You lean into his muscular body, palming his jaw with your hand. His hands restlessly travels your body, cupping your ass with one hand, and gripping the fat of for waist with the other. You shift your body so that your leg rests between his thighs, and you both are kneeling on the mattress. You groan in the kiss, your free hand trails his clothed abs. He whines at your touch, the veins in his hands pop as he shifts his attention to massage the fat of your ass with both hands. Your body jolts at the sudden gesture, causing friction between Art's thigh and your sensitive bud. You moan instinctively, lips parting from his. A quiet whine of absence leaves his lips, his eyes glare lewdly at you."Do that again." he presses, guiding your hips to move forward. You groan at his words, bucking your hips up to achieve that friction once again. Art remains silent, his grip on your hips tightening each time you move back and forth, the lining of your athletic shorts is the only barrier between skin. "Art-," you breathe, "Fuck." your head falls into his shoulder, your hands resting neatly on either side. He winces when your knee promptly grazes his cock. "Please Art-" you slur, the warm feeling in your stomach is replaced by a tightness, Art needily rocking your hips on his thigh, quiet whimpers of approval every time you moan at the slightest change in pace.
(not proofread + im cooked) 👩🏽🍳🥰
#𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐲𝐦𝐚#past ha bedtime ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁#challengers#art donaldson#tashi duncan#patrick zweig#tennis#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you
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He's My Man (Part 1)
Summary: The reader receives an anonymous text from a new client needing an off the books patch job. However he's annoyingly good looking and the last thing you need is some ex-special ops guy hanging around. Unfortunately for you, Russell Shaw isn't the kind of guy to walk away when he knows something's wrong...
Masterlist
Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader
Word Count: 2,000ish
Warnings: language, gun shot injury
A/N: Contains minor spoilers for Tracker 1x12. Please enjoy the start of this new series! I'm not sure how long it will go but thanks for coming on this ride with me!
__________
Your ears perked up on Saturday morning when your phone buzzed on the coffee table before you. Not your everyday one but your one for work. You swiped it open, pursing your lips when you saw it was from an unknown number.
Need a patch job on a quilt. Doug recommended you as a good seamstress in the area.
Alright, well at least this guy knew one of your clients. Doug wasn’t a regular but you’d seen him once or twice over the years which meant the person on the other end wasn’t a cop most likely.
I can fit you in. More complicated the patch, the more it’ll cost.
Not an issue.
You hummed and stood up, grabbing your coffee mug along the way.
129 Edwards Ave in twenty minutes. Use the red back door.
You took a long sip and went over to the kitchen, tossing the rest down the sink, leaving the mug to be cleaned later.
You just hoped this job wasn’t as bad as the last one.
Eighteen minutes later you heard the back door open and then silence, a moment’s hesitation as your new client entered what looked like a storage area. You flipped a light switch, illuminating the small enter sign over the doorway to the room you were prepping in. A few moments later there were heavy boots against the cement ground as he entered, turning to tile, your head lifting.
A man in his forties, a quite handsome one at that, gave the small operating room a cursory glance before settling on you, determining you were the only one there. Meanwhile your gaze shot to his injured left arm, a gunshot from the looks of it. You only spotted one bloody bullet hole and figured that was the worst of it from the way he cradled his forearm.
“You the seamstress?” he asked quietly, scanning the counter full of medical equipment and metal table in the center of the room.
“Take a seat,” you said, patting the table. You went to a sink and washed up, making sure to keep him in view at all times. He winced and struggled to get the coat off, finally managing and revealing a quick patch job had been done. After drying your hands, you snapped on some gloves, the man’s coat and overshirt now on the table behind him.
“Russell Shaw by the way,” he said.
“Y/N,” you said, carefully taking his forearm in one hand, the top of his muscular bicep in the other. You turned his arm slightly, Russell wincing again. “Looks like a through and through. We’ll do a quick x-ray to make sure there’s no shrapnel and then we’ll get you stitched up and I’ll send you home with some supplies and instructions to care for it. This your only injury?”
“Yeah. Doug said you were good.”
“I am,” you said, offering him a brief smile, he returned. “Do you have any PTSD? Going to come at me if I I need to use a scalpel?”
“No,” he chuckled. “I’m good with all that.”
You hummed, guiding him to lay back. Three minutes later you were pushing your x-ray machine aside and taking the lead vest away, Russell sitting upright.
“Can I ask a question?”
“You can ask, don’t mean I’ll answer, sweetie,” you said back, hanging up the vest and going to your laptop on the counter.
“How does one get into this line of work?” he asked.
“Asks the man that’s ex-special ops and does private contract gigs, not to mention killed probably three people minimum tonight.” You glanced over to him, Russell tilting his head. “I know who Doug is and what he does. Makes sense you do it too. You have blood under your fingernails and given the splatter patterns on your jeans, you had multiple different angled shots so multiple bodies you hit.”
“...And you don’t report that sort of thing?” he asked cautiously. You determined his x-ray looked good and washed up again, putting on more new gloves. By the time you were standing before him again, he looked nervous.
“On occasion. But only the monsters. You, you don’t strike me as a monster, Russell,” you said, wiping some antiseptic over his entry and exit wounds. He flinched but only slightly at the quick burn. A moment later you were giving him something to numb the area.
“Someone took Doug. Someone bad. They would have come back if I hadn’t done what needed to be done.” You wiped sterile gauze over his wound and then flushed it, Russell watching your graceful movements with interest.
“Like I said, not a monster.” You hummed as you worked, Russell fixated on you carefully cleaning and then pulling the skin back together, tying it up neatly. You wiped away the evidence of his blood and wrapped his bicep in thick gauze, taping it down so he could still get movement without worrying about it coming off.
You chucked your gloves in the trash and nodded back to the door behind you.
“There’s a shower in there and some brushes. Turn it on low, scrub yourself clean, under your nails too. Use the blue soap. When you’re done, throw everything away in the bin, including your bloody clothes. You leave your boots, anything you want to keep out here with me. There’s men’s sweats and some shirts on the shelf. By the time you’re done, your boots and other items will have no trace of wherever you’ve been. Got it?”
“I do like a woman that takes charge.” He smirked, sliding off the table and dropping slowly to kneel to unlace his shoes, still looking up at you. “Full service deal you got going here.”
“Yes it is and here’s a friendly reminder for my new client. You come anywhere near me with your dick out, I’ll make you regret being alive. Understand, sweetie?” you said, patting his cheek. “Off you go.”
“God damn, I love you,” he muttered under his breath. You rolled your eyes but smirked when your back was to him. Ten minutes later the room was clean and Russell exited the bathroom with damp, slicked back hair wearing a plain white t-shirt, black hanes sweat pants and white socks. You nodded to where his shoes sat on the end of the counter, Russell taking a seat in the chair nearby as he slipped them on.
After he checked he had his phone, keys and wallet, he raised himself to his feet, pulling out his wallet.
“What do I owe you?”
“A thousand.” To your surprise, he didn’t flinch at that number. But like most of your clients, he didn’t have the cash on him, at least not that much. Russell smirked as he glanced back in the bathroom.
“Smart woman. You keep the evidence as ransom until your clients pay up. You won’t destroy that until after I pay, will you.”
“Not until we get to know each other better do I do that sort of thing without payment. Seeing as you’re new and a friend of Doug’s, I’ll give you to the end of next week to pull it together. I offer payment plan options and other alternative forms of care if shit ever really hit the fan for you.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, putting down five hundred dollar bills. “I can bring the other half back here later today. Just need to run to an ATM.”
“Text me when you got the rest. I’ll send you a place to meet,” you said, nodding towards the door. He gave you a small salute and shook his head with a smile.
Forty minutes later you were sitting at a table in the cafe three blocks over, happily sipping on your coffee while working your way through a cheese danish. You spotted Russell when he came in. He gave you a quick, adorably awkward wave and ordered himself a drink. A few minutes later he was sitting down across from you, a small cup and what appeared to be a banana muffin in hand.
“You’re a coffee snob aren’t you. This place is pricey,” he teased, his brow furrowing when he had a drink from his styrofoam cup. “Shit. That’s fucking good.”
“Beats whatever motel crap I’m sure you’re used to,” you said, his gaze hardening for a split second. “Sorry. I always tail my first time clients to make sure they aren’t…you know who. You know the Elkwood Lodge on route 8 is cleaner and cheaper than what you’re paying for now.”
“How would you know that?” he asked. You shrugged and simply grinned, taking another bite of danish. He licked his lips, pointing at the yet to be touched danish beside you. “Was that one for me?”
“God no. I fucking love danishes and these are incredible,” you said, finishing off the first and biting into the other.
“You are something else,” he said, smirking when he slid a white envelope across the table. You tucked it into your jacket pocket, Russell picking at his own muffin. “You ain’t going to check it’s all there?”
“You’re a smart man, Russell. I think you know not to screw me over.” He looked you up and down, earning a pointed response. “Keep that gutter mind to yourself.”
“If I’m in the gutter, you’re right there with me,” he said, absently rubbing his injured arm. “And uh, if it gets infected or I think it is, I should reach out?”
“Absolutely. That ain’t a normal injury you’re used to. Don’t play tough guy, tough guy.” He nodded, his body twisting ever so slightly towards a standing position. “Nope. Stay for at least five minutes, then you can go.”
“You really like telling me what to do, don’t you,” he grinned.
“Russell.” Hss grin was wide before he took a long drag of coffee, humming as it went down.
“What if I want to stay more than five minutes?” You paused mid-chew of your danish. “Come on, one conversation won’t kill you.”
“I don’t get involved with clients.”
“Alright. I respect that but this ain’t my end goal. I’m going to have a normal life someday. I make a pretty mean homebrew. Going to get some land, open up a brewery, have some food, make it a little family place everybody can enjoy. So that’s my goal. I sure as hell know working as a seamstress ain’t your end goal either. So again, what’s the harm in one conversation?”
You bit your bottom lip, Russell’s expression changing, ever so slightly.
“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “What-“
“Shut up,” you mumbled. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Your fucking face did. You don’t want to be a seamstress, do you? Can you not get out of your line of work?” You glanced out the window, even the wonderful flavors of the pastry doing nothing to help the unease in your gut. “I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” you snapped. You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Sorry. I…I’m just crabby because I didn’t have my morning coffee until just now.”
“Nice try.” You glared at him, his green eyes remarkably gentle. “I don’t leave my friends behind. Now either you tell me what’s going on or I’m going to poke around myself and I guarantee that’s going to be a lot more dangerous and you’ll just have to patch me up even more. What do you say?”
You stared at him and stared at him and stared at him for what felt like forever. Then you took out the envelope and handed it back to him, along with the five hundred in your purse.
“Go buy me two more cheese danishes and a large caramel frappe to go. Then take me to your motel room. This is a long fucking story.”
__________
A/N: Read Part 2 here!
#Russell Shaw x reader#Russell Shaw#Russell Shaw Fanfiction#Tracker Fanfiction#Tracker#Russell Shaw x you#Russell Shaw series
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please hear me out for this one. subby!re2!leon who refuses to pull away from eating you out like his life depends on it because you just taste too good!
like you've gotten him sooooo deep into subspace you seriously expect him to stop now? you may have just squirted but he's already came 3 times in his briefs and is whining and begging for one more! and comeon. you just gotta let him because you asked for this and all he wants to do is make you feel good 🙁😵💫
MDNI/18+. NSFW.
Anon…I’m hearing you out babe. Matter of fact, I’m gonna give you the megaphone so you can scream this across the rooftops. Trust me, I’m part of the pathetic Leon munch brigade and I believe he would eat pussy because he can and because he wants to please you. Whatever makes you feel good, he provides because it makes him feel good knowing he’s the reason why you’re a damn mess.
One of your favorite pastimes involves breaking Leon down into that delicious subspace where he’s not thinking and acting based on instinct. You’d probably order him to get situated between your legs, and before you could tell him, he’s already down on his knees and taking your panties off happily. Depending on your mood and tone of voice, either you’re taking control, or he’s doing it on his own as a way to make you relax.
His nose would be rubbing against you, licking up the length of your body and moaning as your taste filled his mouth. Leon has an oral fixation of his own, and being able to have his tongue on you curbs it for him. You were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, you reminded him of ripe peaches or a sip of sweet tea on a summer day, things that brought him comfort and made him content. With his eyes closed, he holds one of your legs up to give him easier access to your cunt, sucking diligently in the way you liked, the way you taught him.
Your scent alone would be enough to make him slip into subspace, an added yank of his hair would grant you a whimper from him. The only thing on his mind would be to make you fall over the edge more times than you can count, to make sure he got every orgasm he could get from you.
The first time you cum from his mouth, it’s relatively easy, not needing much except flicks of your clit. Your second orgasm takes a bit longer than your first, but it’s stronger and prolonged when Leon uses his fingers to please you. He’s done this so often that he knows exactly what to do, knows when to add another finger and when to curve them into that spot tucked nicely at the roof of your entrance. The way you flex around his fingers and tighten around him is enough to make him cum untouched in his briefs, making a mess and staining the cotton material as he pathetically sought friction with the floor.
He gets more sloppy with his ministrations, sucking at your clit more harshly and finger fucking you until you give him exactly what he’s looking for. Your thighs shake from where they sat on his broad shoulders, crying out as you squirted right in his mouth. Leon is greedy in seeking out your arousal, replacing his fingers with his tongue and humming as he slurped up every drop you gave him.
Leon was lightheaded now, his cock aching as it twitched again in his briefs, threatening to cum another time until you reluctantly pulled his head away from you. He whines, actually whines in defiance and you almost think he’ll throw a tantrum at the mere thought of not being able to have your pussy for the rest of the night. You took in his appearance, plush pink lips wet and swollen from what he’d been doing for the past 30 minutes, his chin and jaw were coated in your slick. What you loved most about these moments was how his eyes were completely glossed over, he wasn’t entirely present anymore, which was what you wanted from the beginning.
“Baby you gotta give me a break”, you said to him exasperatingly, chuckling at the way Leon licked his lips, leaving kisses along your mound absentmindedly.
“Just one more, please. Let me give you one more…”, he looked like he was about to cry if he didn’t give you another orgasm, strong fingers digging into your thighs and pouting at you.
You couldn’t stop him, you didn’t want to, even if you knew one more was never just one more with Leon. So you leaned back and let him suck away at you again and again until your whole body went numb. Even if you were tired, he would offer to fuck you properly, to leave you satisfied and full of him. He’s been good after all, making you feel like you were on cloud nine after a stressful day. Your pussy was his reward after a long day of working, and you didn’t want him to go hungry.
#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#sub leon kennedy smut#sub leon kennedy#resident evil#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut#leon kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon s kennedy#ovaryacted asks
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All Work, No Play
Summary: After another mission, you returned back to Miguel. Yet, he paid little mind to you, focused solely on his work. Soon, your mind wandered to all your times together and you quickly craved him. Miguel, however, being stubborn and busy as per usual would not budge. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.
Word Count: ~3.9k
Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used/ reader described as beautiful)
Warnings: SMUT (thigh riding, oral (fem!receiving and male!receiving), cockwarming, dirty talk, edging, riding, unprotected sex, mainly dom!Miguel, creampie, begging, a little biting and blood), some fluff also sprinkled throughout, established relationship
Based of my post here
MINOR DNI/18+ ONLY
Another anomaly.
Another mission.
Another universe saved.
You should be thrilled, or at least pleased with the work you have accomplished. Yet, all you wished was to go back to Spider HQ and collapse.
Or more specifically, you wanted to collapse into someone’s arms.
Opening a portal, you stepped through with the tied up anomaly in tow. You almost relaxed hearing the cacophony of chatter from all the other spider people. It was strangely homely, if not comforting to see others similar to yourself. A few approached - the ones you called to tell of the anomaly you were bringing back - and swept up the anomaly to be sent back to their own universe. You thanked them and headed straight to the one person who ran this entire operation: Miguel O’Hara. His office was up ahead, and a place few willingly entered without explicit permission.
Walking down the hall and passing all the machines and discarded work, you glanced up to see the high platform in the air with a dozen or so monitors. You don’t announce yourself. You fired a web, swinging up. Your feet landed quietly, stealthy, onto the platform. But, you knew he sensed your presence. The man leaned forward in his chair, tapping away at the holographic monitors. News feeds, reports, surveillances of other universes, cases of anomalies, all of it zipped by.
“Good job today,” he muttered, still distracted by what was in front of him.
Pulling off your mask, you walked forward and leaned your hip against the edge of the massive desk. “Yeah, well after fighting so many Green Goblin variants you start to understand their patterns a bit.”
His dark crimson eyes peered over at you. He hummed, and nodded once. He glanced back to the screens, obviously more interested with his work than this basic conversation.
It stung, just a little. You quickly pushed down those bitter feelings, this was truly nothing new. However, this gave you an opportunity to drink him in. And most of all, to let your thoughts wander for a brief moment.
“Miguel,” you moaned, tugging on his dark locks.
He chuckled, lifting his head from in between your legs. His mouth coated in your juices. He rested his cheek on your bruised thighs, smirking up at you with such mischief and adoration in his glowing crimson eyes.
“Yes?” He murmured, and pressed endearing butterfly kisses on your thigh.
You groaned at his antics. You yanked on his hair, directing him towards where you needed him most. He laughed again.
“Oh?” His hot breath on your dripping core made you instinctively buck your hips towards his wondrous mouth. His hands curled around your hips and forced you back down into the bed. “Talk to me, cariño. Hmm? What do you want?
“Are you even listening to me?”
You snapped out of your thoughts. Blinking, you hummed confused, “What?”
Miguel sighed, heavily, “Never mind, we can discuss it later.”
He shook his head, and returned to his work. You, however, stood staring. Almost hungrily. When was the last time anyway? A month? Longer? You both have been so busy lately. You peered down at the hallway and entrance of the office. No one was coming, and no one could truly sneak up the two of you if -
“Is there something else you need?”
Your eyes snapped back over to him. He didn’t look at you, but his question lingered in the air.
There was.
There was indeed.
“Miguel,” you began, stepping towards him.
Internally, he groaned. He knew that tone. And now was certainly not the time.
“No,” he quickly answered.
“Come on, Miguel,” you complained. You wanted to collapse into someone’s arms, and why not make it more fun while you were at it. Why not find a wonderful way to distress? “A quickie before anyone notices.”
“Later,” he muttered, still typing away at screens and reviewing reports.
Later?
You huffed, crossing your arms. Your lips thinned, very obviously annoyed. Later, it was his new favorite word. But, you wouldn’t take ‘no’ or ‘later’ this time. No more excuses. And luckily, you didn’t have to dwell long before an idea struck. One to satisfy yourself, and to get underneath his skin.
Just as he has with you.
A win win.
In a flurry of movements, you quickly straddled his lap, completely unbothered by his minor protests. His chair rolled back as he glared up at you. He was ready to argue, ready to throw you off. But, your next words intrigued him enough to pause momentarily. You leaned in closely, and whispered sultry, “If you won’t, then I will.”
You positioned yourself over one of his massive thighs. He knew exactly what you were doing now. And oh, he would not cave so easily.
Or so he told himself.
Your hands rested on his shoulder. You blocked out the screens and forced him to look at you, forced him to acknowledge you and your needs after so long. You rolled your hips, and purposefully let out an outrageously pornographic moan. His hands balled up into fists at his sides.
Two could play at this game, he thought.
His jaw clenched. He would work, and work he did. He would not let you win. But, god he was starting to crave you. His thoughts were now being dragged through a lustful haze.
He ran this thumb over your bottom lips, pushing your mouth apart. “Just like that,” Miguel praised you as he slipped his cock inside your mouth.
He sighed deeply, dropping his shoulders.
On your knees, you slowly bobbed your head. Your hands wrapped around his thighs to steady yourself. One of his hands rested on top of your head, guiding you. It was a soft, easy pace.
A slow build up.
You glanced up at him. His head was tipped back, looking up at the ceiling. His mouth was agape as soft moans tumbled out. Sweat beaded across his forehead. A few of his dark curls clung to his sculpted face. Sensing your gaze, his head dropped forward as he smiled lovingly down at you. His hand moved from the top of your head to your cheek.
You, on the other hand, shared a darker look, a more devious one. Before Miguel could ask, you moaned loudly, sending waves of pleasant vibrations and instantly picking up your pace. He hissed out. Almost doubling over, he braced his forearm onto the nearby wall.
“Ah,” he groaned as a string of curses spilled out of his lips in Spanish.
You smiled to yourself, taking such pride in rendering Earth 2099’s Spiderman into a babbling mess.
“Oh my god, just like that,” he moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”
You grinded down, and moaned unabashedly.
A vein nearly popped in Miguel’s forehead.
You bunched up his suit, and quickened your pace. Your wall fluttered around nothing, begging to be filled. You needed him, but you wouldn’t say that.
Both of you were a bit too egotistical at times. This being one of them.
His teeth grinded together as he listened to you, to your growing heavy panting. He relented somewhat. One of his hands rested your hip - his talons poked at you - as he very gently followed your movements. Your forehead rested onto his shoulder as you whined desperately and so closely to his ear. All to just tease him further.
God, how could he focus? How could he work now?
Your soft moans and cries, your panting, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your obvious attempt to finish as you sped up but can’t quite reach it, it all riled him up. It all went straight through him. The bulge in his suit became more and more apparent with every agonizing second.
Fine, he thought.
He clenched his thigh.
You immediately gasped, “Miguel.”
You had finally won.
He finally caved.
He instantly turned his head, burying his face into your neck. His hot breath on your already flushed skin made you shiver. His lips teasingly brushed over your neck then began to place sloppy kisses up and down. Both of his hands now forcibly grabbed your hips as you continued to rock back and forth. He yanked you harshly forward, setting a new brutal pace.
“I know, I know,” he whispered. “Let me help.”
“Now?” You breathed out. It was a jab at him, even though you were unbelievably grateful right now. He grinded you down on his thigh, and you squirmed. “Now, you want to help?”
“Would you like me to stop?”
“God, no.”
He smirked to himself, “Good.”
Yes, you had finally enticed him. You had also awakened something else in him - that familiar sinister fiend.
“Take it off,” he whispered.
“What?” You barely registered his words. All your focus was on the overwhelming relief you were now feeling as well as the knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You hissed. His talons started to bury further and further into your hips and thighs. Such pain brought such sweet, undeniable pleasure.
“Your suit. Take it off.” He repeated a little more sternly in your ear. His lips skimmed over your neck again. “Or I could rip it off -“
“Don’t you dare,” you huffed. This was your only spare left.
“Then take it off.”
His grip loosened.
Fine.
Unzipping the suit, you quickly stood up, shucking off everything, and leaving nothing behind. Miguel, however, only removed the lower half of his suit. Whatever tech he wore allowed such privileges. You wanted to complain, you wanted to scoff. Yet, it was all silenced.
His cock sprung out, the swollen tip leaked with precum.
Your heart leapt up into your throat, and you shivered in delightful anticipation. Not to mention, how your eyes drank in the happy trail which followed up his abdomen.
After so many times, it still all excited you.
“Come here,” Miguel sweetly whispered, almost too sweetly. He had a plan for you. One you happily ignored. He reached out, grabbing your hips guiding you back to him. You clambered back into the chair, straddling him.
His thumbs soothingly rubbed at your hips. He stared up at you with a small smile on your lips. You had mistaken his smile for kindness, it was utterly devious. His eyes blazed with a certain sinful lust. The tip of his cock teased your entrance. You whined softly, then viciously dug your nails into his shoulders. “Miguel, I swear to -“
“Shhh,” he purred, and kissed your neck. “All will be better soon, cariño. But, let me have my fun … just for a little bit.”
Another mistake on your part.
You just nodded.
You needed this desperately. But, he possibly needed this more. He simply didn’t realize it until you were in his grasp again.
He groaned, slowly bringing you down. Inch by sweet delicious inch, he stretched you out. With your head still resting on his shoulder, you could look down and have the perfect view as he filled you completely.
Fuck.
Bottoming out, he slowly rolled his hips, sending a small wave of pleasure through you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed in delight. His fang now protruded, grazing over your neck. You lolled your head to the side. He smirked. He licked up your neck, and nibbled on your ear. “You are going to pay dearly for what you did.”
You opened your mouth, a retort was ready to leap off your tongue. His hands then wandered up. His talons softly scratched across your back. You shivered, and hummed instead. The faint touches over your needy skin sent dizzying spells through you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, flushing you to his broad chest.
His lips brushed by your ear, “So impatient.”
You let out an airy laugh. You lifted your head, staring directly into his intimidating crimson eyes. “You’re right.”
You bucked your hips. He groaned, burying his face back into your neck. Your fingers tangled into his dark hair. You tried to lift your hips, tried to get more friction. But, his hands flew down keeping you in place. He chuckled darkly. He slowly kissed your neck, a sweetness despite the words that soon followed. “Oh, no. You have to sit here.”
He scooted his chair forward with you still in his lap. Your back bumped into the desk. You squirmed, wishing for some relief. But, it would not come. At least not now. One of his arms locked around your waist, easily keeping you in place as the other began to tap on screens.
“I think it’s time for you to learn some patience,” he hummed into your neck with a wide, devilishly smirk.
“Miguel, you can’t be -“
He instantly clamped a hand over your mouth. Staring directly into your eyes, he leaned in closely, and almost snarled. “Patience and silence.”
You had to bite back a snide remark. You wanted to get under his skin again, you wanted to get more of a rise out of him. But, you also wanted relief.
As if knowing of your impending comeback, he dipped his head, whispering in your ear, “Maybe if you let me finish my work, there might be a reward.”
His hand fell from your mouth, your pouty lips, and rested on your hip again. His fingers dug into you: a final warning to stay perfectly still.
“So, can you behave for me?” He asked, clearly amused by all of this.
You gritted your teeth, and opened your mouth. He bucked his hips upwards. All the words died. A moan fell out of your lips instead. He chuckled, and lightly smacked your hip, “Good.”
Your silence was now taken as obedience.
He turned his attention back onto the multiple screens and went back to work.
Minutes crawled by. Maybe an hour? Maybe it was only seconds? You clung to his body fiercely like it was the only life preserver left in this sea of torment. Sweat broke out across your forehead. You buried your face into his shoulder, panting. The clicks, and beeps, of the screens couldn’t drown out your desperate noises. The hums, the whines, the moans, you were becoming so vocal. Any slight movement - whether intentional or not - sent jolts of pleasure through you.
Yet, it wasn’t enough.
Even if you tried to move, Miguel’s grip was ironclad. One twitch and you were met with a tsk of disappointment followed by a snarky remark along the lines of ‘the more you move, the more I work’ or ‘relax, patience is often the best reward’.
And if you had any comment at all, he silenced it before you could utter a single letter by giving you just a minor taste of relief. He would buck or roll his hips, or grind you down further on him.
By the end, however long it was, you were a complete mess and slumped heavily into him. Most of your fight had worn out.
Soon, his fingers sneakily moved across your stomach. You tensed. Dipping lower, they found your sensitive little bud. You gasped, and moaned. His fingers slowly circled around your clit, just teasing you more and more. You bit the inside of your cheek hoping to prevent all the insane pleas that were ready to crawl out. You were so sensitive and so needy. Your walls clamped down around him, aching for more.
He groaned at the sensation, “Oh, I want to fold you over this desk.”
You shuddered in excitement. “Then do it,” you taunted, despite your incredibly shaky voice.
“No.”
You whined, “God, you are so annoying sometimes.”
“And so are you.”
You swore under your breath. He was so infuriating, so annoying, and still somehow so unbelievably gorgeous. If you had any less of a spine, you would let him get away with so much more. But, just how he teased you, you equally loved to return the favor.
You thought today was your turn, but you underestimated him.
“God,” you mumbled. You started to kiss his jaw, trying to soften him up. “Just fuck me already.”
His fingers pulled away from your clit, and you almost wanted to cry. Chuckling, his lips brushed over your ear and teasingly asked in a low seductive voice, “Aw, qué pasa, cariño?”
“You are the worst,” you groaned, half heartedly.
He smirked. Your words and how your body reacted were always at odds. “I am? Says the one who strolled in here asking for it.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” you hissed.
He rolled your hips, and you instantly moaned. “Oh, but you love it,” he hummed. “Don’t you?”
No response.
“Aw, no witty comeback? No attempts to bruise my pride? Or to simply irritate me?” He looked into your eyes, seeing your obvious and desperate want. “Maybe you have finally learned some patience.”
Your heart soared. You didn’t dare say yes or nod your head in fear of more sinister tricks. You could be here for another hour if he so wished.
He slowly rocked your hips, giving you just a bit more friction. That small simple movement was downright hypnotic. “Just say please for me, okay? Dame uno por favor, sí?”
Your head tipped back as you sighed blissfully. You didn’t hear him. Or you willfully ignored him. He quickly grabbed your chin, yanking you forward.
“Ah, let me hear it.”
Normally, you would fight. Yet, you were at your wit’s ends. You instead melted into him, gazing longingly into his eyes. You conceded. “Please,” you whispered very softly.
“Más fuerte. Say it louder.”
“Please,” you begged. You cupped his face, bringing him closer. You peppered kisses all over his face and continuously said ‘please’ after each one. “Please, I need you.”
He hummed, “Perfect.”
Grabbing the back of your neck, he kissed you passionately. His tongue slipped inside without warning, swirling around and drawing out more desires. You moaned unapologetically into him. With inhuman strength, he easily picked you up, laying you across the desk. All the holographic screens disappeared. He attacked your lips with a ferociousness, one you had experienced time and time again. And yet it continued to leave you breathless. Pulling away, his sharp teeth tugged on your bottom lip, and drew out a small spot of blood.
He smirked down at you, at your droopy lust filled eyes. His thumb grazed over your now swollen lips and wiped away the dot of blood. “Qué hacer contigo? Hmm? Should I really give you what you want?”
Your hands curled around to the back of his neck, drawing him back down. You gently pecked his lips. A tiny plea, and almost a small apology for starting this. “Please,” you begged again quietly against his lips.
His hands traveled down your body, latching back onto your hips. “Why can’t you be this nice all the time?”
“You love it, though,” you smirked a little, tossing his same words back at him. “You like when I’m annoying you.”
“Perhaps.” He pulled out, before forcibly slamming once into you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan. “But, I do like when I’m able to silence that pretty mouth of yours.”
After so long, he pounded into you. Mercilessly. You arched your back, and wrapped your legs around his waist. You had driven him insane since your little stunt, he had his fun, and now he was going to take everything you gave him. He would have you crying, and whining on his cock. He would have you begging nonstop. He would have you cumming again and again if he so pleased.
You kissed him messily again. Tongue and teeth clashed. You bucked your hips, matching his mind numbing pace. You wouldn’t last long. You could feel the knot ready to burst, but you didn’t want this to end. Breaking apart, catching a fleeting breath, you moaned as his cock easily split you open.
He growled, rutting into you like a feral animal.
But, then something snapped in him.
This wasn’t enough for him.
He lifted you up off the desk, holding your waist. Bucking his hips upward, and lifting you up and down, while also using the help of gravity, you were being slammed tirelessly on his cock.
“Fuck, Miguel.” You clawed at his shoulders.
His cock kissed new places you didn’t think was possible. You nearly went limp in his grasp, like a rag doll. It was all so delicious, all so wonderful, and oh so sinful. The wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out, the slapping of his hips against you, his soft moans and hisses of pleasure, it all added to this building sensation - the impending euphoric crash.
Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t last long now in this new position.
“Miguel,” you moaned. “I’m about to -“
“I know, I know,” he murmured into your neck. He nipped and sucked at your tender neck. Your walls fluttered around him. God, it drove him nuts. You felt amazing, heavenly even. “Cum for me, carñio. Please, I want to see it.”
You tried to help, tried to grind on him or buck your hips. But, you were at his mercy. He was relentless. And god, you loved it. You were happily bouncing on his cock as he used and abused you.
“Fuck,” you moaned again.
You were so close.
“Come on,” he hissed. “Let me see it.”
You clashed your lips to his. It was sloppy. Your legs tightened around him, as if needing him closer. As if he wasn’t already buried deeply inside of you. Miguel moaned. He slammed you back down, and rolled your hips.
That was it.
The knot snapped.
You moaned loudly into him, and you came around him. Miguel peppered kisses all over your face. “Ah, just like that. Oh, you are so beautiful.”
“Fuck,” you hissed as you began to work yourself back down from your high. You pressed your forehead against his. Breathing heavily, you whined softly he still continued to use you to reach his own end. It was all so much, and somehow not enough. Fuck, he truly was amazing. Looking into his eyes, you gently stroked his cheek and murmured tiredly, “Come on, Miguel. Fill me up. I want you to.”
Miguel moaned.
“Just like that. God, you feel amazing.” You hummed, playing with the ends of his hair on the back of his neck.
His talons dug into your hips, cutting them and bruising them. After a few more thrusts, he stuttered. Tumbling forward, he quickly set you down on the desk, his arms on either side of you as he finished inside of you. He stared deeply into your eyes, his pupil blown wide with an animalistic haze still behind them. Your combined breathing filled the space between you.
With your legs still around his waist, you jerked him closer. He hissed, still very sensitive. “Still want to go back to work,” you smugly asked.
He chuckled, then smiled at you. “Still have that mouth on you I see.”
“Oh, but you love it.”
His thumb - and with his talons still out - ran across your lip. “I do, and how about we continue this elsewhere. Maybe I can have it put to other uses.”
“Maybe if you beg nicely.”
His eyes lit with such passion at your lightning fast remark. His eyes flickered to your lips, smirking, “Hmm, maybe.”
You truly knew how to push him. God, he did love it. No, actually he just loved you.
#across the spiderverse#spider man across the spider verse#atsv#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel O’Hara x afab!reader#afab!reader#miguel o’hara smut#smut
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Sharing Is Caring (she doesn’t care)
a scrapped work of mine
Sana x afab reader
suggestive
As you busily prepare dinner, approaching footsteps catch your attention.
"I didn't even hear you come in," you remark, spinning around to meet her gaze.
With a serene expression, she settles gracefully onto the marble counter, fixing her eyes on you. Her hair falls delicately around her face, framing it with effortless beauty. You observe her chest rising and falling at an impossibly slow pace, marveling at her calm demeanor despite her hectic day.
Dropping her purse to the floor, she tilts her head slightly, prompting a frown to crease your brow as you contemplate what might have caused her reaction.
“How did your fitting go?” you inquire, resuming the task of slicing tomatoes. She scoffs, sliding off the counter to remove her coat.
“How did your date go, y/n?” she asks nonchalantly, deftly finding the zipper of her dress to slip it down her legs.
You release a sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Sana, why does this bother you so much? I’ve reassured you countless times that my work with Wendy is purely professional. Can’t you trust me?” you question, pushing the tomatoes into the pan.
Sana steps out of the kitchen for a brief moment and then reappears, settling back onto her spot on the counter, now draped in a dressing gown.
"Y/n, I never said I didn't trust you. It's jus—"
"If you trust me, then why are you making such a big deal out of it!?" you interject, your tone escalating.
Her sigh is audible as she jumps off the counter. "It's just... I've seen the way she looks at you... And I dislike it."
You scoff and begin chopping the mushrooms with more force.
"Well, I've seen the way Miyeon looks at you, and I don't complain," you retort.
She lets out a hearty laugh and envelops you in a hug from behind, wrapping her arms around your waist.
"Miyeon is with her boyfriend, darling. She can't do anything, whereas Wendy... Well, she doesn't have someone to love and cherish like Miyeon and I do," she explains, nuzzling your hair and planting a small kiss behind your ear.
You relax slightly under her touch, but a lingering irritation remains over her jealousy regarding Wendy's attention and the time you spend with her.
"Still... You know she won't try anything with me, Sana. Wendy knows what's going to happen to her if she makes a move on me... She'll have to face the Sana Minatozaki. There's nothing to worry about, love," you reassure her.
She sighs, a soft hum escaping her lips as she pulls your body even closer to hers, clearly pleased at the mention of her name. She trails her hands up and down your sides while planting gentle kisses on the side of your neck. You release the knife, leaning into her touch.
"I just," she begins, slipping a hand under your shirt to grasp your breast through your bra, while the other one trails down your inner thigh.
"Don't want to share you..." She whispers, her hot breath caressing your ear. You sigh, tilting your head to the side to grant her more access to your neck. With a gentle push, she presses you further, ensnaring you against the counter with her embrace.
She leaves open-mouthed kisses trailing up your neck before nibbling on your earlobe. A small whimper escapes your lips, and you swiftly turn around, pressing your lips against hers. Sana moans softly into your mouth, her hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. You whine and gently brush your tongue against her lower lip, your desire for more evident. Sana responds eagerly, parting her lips to deepen the kiss, lost in the heat of the moment.
She pulls back slightly, and together, you both take a deep breath. You can't help but notice the effect the kiss had on Sana – her lips are swollen, and her cheeks are flushed with a rosy hue. A giggle escapes your lips as you reach for her robe, swiftly removing it.
"I think seeing Wendy more often could be fun," you suggest, pulling her closer to you by the waistband of her panties.
She chuckles and slides her hands under your buttocks, lifting you onto the counter.
"I don't think it would be a good idea, my angel" she murmurs, her breath warm against your lips.
Sana teasingly sticks the tip of her tongue out, delicately licking your lower lip, all the while maintaining eye contact with you.
"Because, you're mine."
#twice smut#twice imagines#twice x reader#sana x reader#twice scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#gg x reader#gg imagines
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PROMPTS FOR FAKE DATING & GOING UNDERCOVER
* assorted dialogue for muses going undercover as a couple and having to maintain the illusion that they're dating, and all the chaos, feelings, and whatnot that come with it, suggested by dollhidden, adjust as necessary, send "reverse" for the reversal of action prompts
DIALOGUE PROMPTS
come on. at least pretend that you like me.
if we hold hands, that'll sell the illusion even more.
what petnames do you think we'd use if we were actually dating?
please don't make this too difficult on me.
stop letting go of my hand.
you're going to pay for this later.
that was way too close of a call.
[petname]? that's what we're going with?
could you at least look like you like me for an hour? is that so hard?
admit it. i'm not half bad.
didn't think i would enjoy this as much as i am.
did you take acting classes growing up?
excuse me! i'm just trying to sell the illusion!
do you think they bought it?
you don't look like you love me. you look like you're constipated.
way to lay it on thick. i think you might have done too good of a job.
pretend to laugh at one of my jokes.
i guess i didn't expect you to dress up for this. i'm impressed.
you know, if you treated me like that on the regular, i might actually start falling in love with you.
they have to believe we're together. how hard can it be?
quick, pretend like you're about to kiss me.
you clearly care more about the tiny appetizers than you do me.
i'm just here for the free champagne.
you clean up nice.
that honestly wasn't as bad as i thought it would be.
they're looking over here. quick, say something funny.
that... was surprisingly smooth of you.
you don't date much, do you?
we should pretend to date more often.
hey! my eyes are up here!
shit, they're coming. kiss me.
ACTION PROMPTS
all of these are written as if both parties are fake dating and going undercover at some specified event, but feel free to add your own scenarios if you'd like!
[ hand ] sender quickly takes receiver's hand in public to avoid getting caught
[ waist ] sender quickly slides an arm around receiver's waist in public to avoid getting caught
[ propose ] sender stages a dramatic fake proposal to further sell their relationship to the crowd, catching receiver completely off guard
[ fake fight ] sender and receiver stage a coordinated fake fight/messy breakup in front of the crowd
[ kiss ] realizing they need to sell their relationship to an important person/people, sender and receiver kiss for the first time
[ coat ] noticing receiver is cold, sender gives them their coat
[ entrance ] sender and receiver approach the entrance of the secret event and discuss their plans for selling their fake relationship to the crowd
[ slip away ] sender slips away from receiver in order to take a break from pretending, and receiver goes to find them
[ off limits ] sender and receiver are exploring an off limit portion of the event space, get caught, and are forced to try to explain how they got lost
[ the big kiss ] to conceal the fact that they're exploring an off limit portion of the event space, sender kisses receiver dramatically once they're caught
[ introduce ] sender introduces receiver as their lover/date/partner to a very important (and potentially dangerous) person at this event
[ family ] sender introduces receiver as their lover/date/partner to their family, who just so happens to also be at the event
[ lost ] sender loses receiver in the crowd and rushes to relocate them before their cover is blown
[ flirt ] when someone else shows interest in receiver, sender steps in and makes it clear they're "taken"
[ exit ] sender and receiver have successfully accomplished their goal, and now must sneak out of the event as covertly as possible
[ spill ] sender accidentally spills their drink on receiver and rushes them to the restroom to clean them up
[ private ] in a brief moment of privacy between the two fake daters, sender admits to receiver that they don't think receiver is as bad as they thought
#mcflymemes#mine#dramatic prompts#action prompts#rp meme#rp memes#rp prompt#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#sentence starter prompt#sentence starter#sentence starters#fake dating prompts#fake dating scenarios#all credit and insp goes to dollhidden!#thank you for the request!!!!!!!
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ꜱᴄᴘ: ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴄʜ
ᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ/ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ
pairing: past lover/SCP! san x researcher! reader (fem) feat. resaercher friend! mingi
genre: SCP au, horror elements, angst (there’s a hopeful ending i promise ;;), smut
summary: having seen everything under the sun as a researcher at the SCP foundation, you didn’t think much of SCP-1117. it wasn’t until he started appearing as your late husband that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
w.c: 3.4k
warnings: past character death, ANGST (i’m telling you now…), hard dom! san, bratty sub! reader, brat taming, cnc, san’s a heartless monster here so yeahh, he also has monster features yk (sharp teeth, black eyes, monster cawk), dirty talk, degradation/name calling, brief tit play, brief spit play, restraints, choking, rough oral (giving), deep-throating, kissing, fingering, squirting, like…so much cum…, finger sucking, rough sex, mating press, dacryphilia, creampie
a/n: listen ik it’s filth fest okayy there’s def filth in this but i also used this one as an angst outlet so just know this one’s got a little kick to it,, im sorry my lovelies i just couldn’t help it </33
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ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʜ ʙʏ ᴋɪᴅ ꜱɪꜱᴛʀ
0:01 ❍─────── 4:28
Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%
ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ
SCP-1117 was a curious one. Neither you nor your coworkers knew what its true form looked like, due to its ability of morphing into whatever it pleased. You couldn’t quite figure out what it truly was either. It was simply an amalgamation of pure chaos. One that you found yourself being drawn to ever since it began to replicate your late husband’s image.
Was it to entice you? Punish you? You weren’t sure. What you were sure of was that you couldn’t bring yourself to escape from its clutches, remaining at work during the late night hours, always telling your coworkers that you were simply running tests on it, when in actuality, it was running tests on you. Testing how much pain and pleasure you could take. Testing how much it could take from you and give to you without completely swallowing you up.
Oh, how it would love to.
࿏࿏࿏
“Y/N, you shouldn’t be staying here so late…and you shouldn’t be around SCP-1117 so often. It’s too dangerous…” one of the researchers you were closest with told you in a hushed voice inside the hauntingly white, sterile hallway of the facility, placing a hand on your stiff shoulder, his fingers squeezing into your plain white lab coat, hints of coffee still on his breath.
“Thank you for worrying about me, Mingi,” you began softly, looking up at him past the smudged lenses of your glasses, taking a sip from your own cup of stale black coffee. “But I’m getting closer to a breakthrough. I need this…The foundation needs this.”
“We still don’t know what its intentions are though…What if you get hurt?” Mingi pushed, concern present within his hushed, though gravelly voice, studying you with his sad, deep-set eyes. He searched the pristine tile floor for something he couldn’t find, finding it even harder to look back up at you. “I feel like…ever since the passing…you’ve been…”
You offered him a gentle smile, reaching up to pat the side of his cheek, interrupting him, “Mingi, I’m fine, really. I just need something to focus on instead of the grief, and this is it.” Something inside you shifted, the edges of your facade fading for only a moment, causing you to push your glasses up past the slope of your nose. “Research is all I have left as of late.”
Mingi inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling like shit, causing him to bring you into a warm, tight hug, whispering into your shoulder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, do what helps you.” He squeezed you a little tighter, as if you would slip away from him at any second. “Just don’t forget, I’m here for you, Y/N. Night or day, I’m here.”
You stayed still inside his grasp, wanting to feel comfort from his gentle, loving touch, but instead feeling nothing at all. All you felt was the muddled memory of what love was to you. You heard it whispering into your mind and onto your skin, tormenting you with what you once had access to. “Thank you, Mingi,” you replied sincerely, slowly reaching your arms around him to hug him back, settling into his embrace. Before you even realized it, you had begun to hold him just as close, nuzzling his shoulder until your glasses fogged up.
Eventually, Mingi left you to your own devices, and you found yourself heading down to the basement floor, your high heels clacking loudly against the tile inside the large, empty hallway as you made your way to the entity’s room.
Once you pressed your keycard into the room’s security system, a small blue light flashed across your eyes, scanning your identity, before it let you into the vast, dark room.
Little by little, the plain room morphed into what used to be your late husband’s office, that in real life, was shut off from the rest of the world with a key, as you were never internally prepared to walk into a space that he had spent so much time inside. Here, it was perfectly clean and kept-up. Inviting. Warm, even. Not covered in thick layers of dust and shrouded in darkness, like in your reality. A reality you were relieved to have an escape from once again.
“You took so long to see me, honey. I’ve missed you dearly,” a deep, masculine voice called out to you, causing you to turn around and see your late husband sitting at his computer desk, wearing a coat similar to yours, his glasses slipping down his nose like they always did, a pout on his classically handsome, feline-like face.
“San, I’ve missed you too,” you called back, running over to him just as he got up from his computer chair, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Missed your touch.” It was then that you heard a slow, calculating chuckle ring out inside your ears. It sent a shiver right up your spine, your idyllic fantasy quickly falling apart at the seams like it always seemed to do.
“Oh, did you now? What did you miss, honey? My cock in your ass? Your throat? Or your wet little cunt?” he remarked filthily, the dark amusement inside his eyes reminding you that he was not your husband, and that this wasn’t the life you had. This was a cold, empty room, and you were in the arms of a nameless monster that wanted nothing more than to ruin you.
The feeling was mutual.
“I’ve missed it all. Need you,” you admitted hastily, opening San’s work shirt up to reveal his pretty, tan skin, simultaneously letting him push you back into the desk, watching him rip open your top, the buttons flying off and skidding across the floor.
“You’ll have me, slut. Relax.” San pulled your bra off, immediately encompassing your tits with his large, warm hands, squeezing them roughly and kneading them around, making you squeak. “Missed these tits of yours.”
“Yeah…? I bet you jerk off thinking about them when I’m gone. Pervert,” you tested him, hoping to provoke the beast, reaching down to grab his hardening cock through his tight work pants.
San sneered at you, showing off his sharpened teeth. “Why would I need to jerk off when you come here every night and willingly give me your holes to fuck as I please? Huh?” He lowered his mouth to your chest, spitting on one of your tits, before sucking on it sloppily, licking at your nipple with his forked tongue. “Or did you forget how fucking filthy you are?”
“Might need a reminder…”
“I forget just how truly mindless cock sluts are,” San mused to himself, flicking your other nipple roughly with his pointer finger, making you jolt from the sudden twinge of pleasurable pain. “I'll remind you, my dear.”
The entity suddenly swiped all the things off of his desk, from the large, ancient computer that your husband never wanted to get rid of because of the ‘lovely vintage aesthetic’ it apparently brought to his office, the various knickknacks he was never able to part with, from romantic poetry books he never got to read, to clay cats he made in the pottery class he begged you to join, knocking everything onto the floor so that he could place you onto it, with enough force that you felt a bit dizzy. With his hands pressed onto either side of the desk, San hovered over you, his now fully black eyes boring into your half closed ones, drool falling from his lips onto your flushed face. “Show me how wet you are, Y/N. Show me now.”
You obediently slid up your work skirt and lowered the lip of your panties, showing off your glistening, plump folds, your lips forming a playfully wicked smile. “Is that enough for you, 1117? Hm? Does it make your cock stiff?”
You both knew that you using his given name pissed him off more than anything, which led to him sending one of his fists straight through the desk near your shoulder, with so much ease, it was almost as if he was slicing through butter. You didn’t flinch, and he loved you for it. He loved his perfect little playtoy. You always knew how to press his buttons just right. Maybe that’s why he didn’t swallow you whole just yet. “You know, what does make my cock stiff is the thought of fucking that bratty mouth of yours until you’re dripping drool and my load all over yourself…”
“Well, what are you waiting for, huh? I don’t have all night, you know. The morning crew comes in early,” you deadpanned, your heart hammering away inside your chest, your mind and body vibrating with an excitement that you haven’t felt since, well, the night before.
“I’m going to be cumming early too, when my cock’s ramming down your throat…” San climbed off of you and moved your body around to his will, so that you were laying on your back with your head hanging off of the desk. He ripped off his belt and looped it around your wrists, tightening it up until you whimpered. It was then that he pulled out his long, veiny cock, the tip of it dripping obscene globs of pre-cum onto your face, some of the saltiness getting on your lips. “Y/N, tell me, did your husband ever fuck and claim your throat for himself? Or did he do something disgusting like eat you out for your own sole pleasure instead?”
Visions of your late husband worshiping your body like a temple, with love in his eyes and praise on his lips, flashed across your mind, filling your stomach with lead, just as San, the monster, the entity that you couldn’t understand, filled your mouth and throat with his large, pulsing length, not giving you a chance to answer, instead snapping his hips forward.
“Oh my god, that’s it, right fucking there,” San groaned gutturally, closing his talons around the sides of your throat, watching the way his cock made an obscene bulge inside it each time he thrusted roughly into it, amused by the dribbles of spit escaping past your stretched lips. “Hey, do your coworkers know that you’re a whore for SCP-1117? Do they know that you study the way my balls hit your fucking face every time I thrust into this tight throat of yours?”
You gurgled noisily around his rapidly moving length, his salty pre-cum leaking into your mouth, not even having the ability to gag anymore from the amount of times that you’ve taken him inside, your throat already used to the shape of San’s enormous cock. “Mmmmfff…”
“Uh-huh, I know, baby. I know how much you love it,” San mused knowingly, reaching past your throat to rest one of his hands on the opposite edge of the table to thrust more easily into your tight throat, one hand already on your messy cunt, his talons returning to normal hands, a wedding band present on his ring finger, eagerly rubbing from your clit to your slit just to hear your juices squelching through his fingers. “I know how much you love being a hole for me.”
You spread your trembling thighs open, bucking your hips against his fingers, your moans sending pleasant vibrations onto his cock. It was when he stuffed your cunt full of his fingers that your moans were near constant, your eyes rolling up into your head, drool sliding up your face from the upside down position you were in, drops of it landing onto the floor near San’s black work shoes.
“Your pussy’s leaking so much, baby, did you know that? You must be really desperate for my cock, huh? Even though I pound you into a coma every single night? Are you that much of a brainless cum dump for me now?”
“Mm-hmm...!” Your thighs suddenly clenched around his rapidly moving hand, encouraging him to force them back open, most likely leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin.
San let out a significantly more pleasured groan than the rest that he was letting out, his cock throbbing deep inside your open throat, sweat dripping down the side of his temples, his hair starting to stick to his forehead, his wire glasses threatening to fall from his face. “You’re such a pathetic slut, god, it’s gonna make me fucking cum…”
Clear liquid suddenly gushed past San’s thick fingers, your muffled moans crescendoing into an equally muffled scream, your thighs going limp against the now slippery desk. You closed your eyes, and for a second, you saw your real husband standing at his desk, proudly holding up one of his crudely painted clay cats for you to see, showing you his pretty dimpled smile and sparkling, affectionate gaze.
It was then that San tore you away from your brief blissful memory, bringing you back to reality with his wet hands closing back around your bruising neck, his throbbing cock rammed completely down your contracting throat. “Go on, do what you do best and drink it all for me, baby,” he purred, just as he unleashed load after load into your mouth, some of it spilling out and dripping along your sweaty face and into your hair.
You simply laid there, still trembling, your wrists straining against your leather restraints, doing your best to swallow the endless amount of cum down without choking on it. It was so much that you almost found yourself beginning to pass out from the lack of oxygen, too busy guzzling down cum to breathe, your brain and fingertips growing tingly. How nightmarish would it be for the morning crew to come to find you passed out in SCP-1117’s room, your body covered in squirt and semen. Though it couldn’t be much more of a nightmare than the one you were already living in.
Once San’s balls were sufficiently drained in that moment, he slowly pulled out of your throat and mouth with a lewd pop, lifting up your practically lifeless body and flipping you around so that you were on your back again and gazing up at him. His face had grown more monstrous, his curled, sharp teeth starting to grow into his cheeks like they were sewn into his flesh, his glasses now gone, his eyes, like portals to an abyss you couldn’t seem to look away from, unintelligible symbols carved into the skin of his neck and collarbone. “What’s wrong, honey? You look frightened. Is something the matter?” he asked with faux concern, a deep chuckle emanating from his tattooed throat.
“Shut up and fill me with cock, already, 1117,” you sighed, reaching up to rub the cum from your glasses the cloth of your shirt, simply smearing it around instead.
Growling animalistically, San grabbed onto your hips, sinking his sharpened nails into your skin enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips, positioning his hardened cock against your cunt, rubbing his cockhead along it, just teasing your slit, instead of actually giving you what you wanted. “You’re just asking for it, you goddamn brat. You’re lucky I love fucking your whore hole this much or else I would’ve eaten you up a long time ago…You’d be so…tasty…”
Just as San began to drool on you again, you reached your restrained hands up so that you could have your wrists resting behind the monster’s neck, his overheated body impossibly close to yours. “Eat me up, 1117,” you whispered near his lips, catching his mouth against yours when he lunged forward, his split tongue slipping over yours and down your throat.
San pushed himself inside the tight heat of your cunt, immediately getting to work, pistoning himself in and out of you like a well-oiled machine, having no plans of stopping until he was pumping monstrous amounts of cum into your womb.
You sucked and licked at his long, agile tongue the best you could, watching strings of saliva spread in between your panting, parted mouths when San pulled back. “Fuck me harder,” you demanded, choking on your spit when San rubbed his fingers roughly into your clit, watching him bring his fingers up to your lips, taking them inside to suck your arousal off of them.
“Relax, little slut. You already know I always fuck you within an inch of your life.” San suddenly brought his legs up onto the desk, using his obscene strength to easily position the both of your bodies so that he had you in a mating press, thrusting viciously into your hot, leaking cunt.
Your already loud moans began to grow even louder, threatening to somehow escape the soundproof room. You couldn’t do anything but take everything San gave you, his thick, impossibly large cock drilling so roughly into your squelching cunt, he punched a prolonged, breathy whine out of you each time. “S-aaaan, pleaseee…!”
“Please, what? Don’t tell me you forgot how to use your words. Is it because I’m in your guts, baby? Is that why?” San began to laugh evilly near your ear, his tongue slithering past his curled lips to lick the salty tears that began to drip down your cheeks. He thrusted once more, this time feeling your squirt dripping in between your sticky bodies, driving him to fuck you even harder than before, the desk slamming roughly into the side of the wall over and over. “Is that your squirt leaking all over my cock? Fuck, you always cum so hard when I use you like this…Makes me wanna cum too…Gonna fill your womb with my load, Y/N. It won’t stop dripping out of you until tomorrow night when I fill you up again, and again, and again.”
It was then that you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. You tossed your head back, getting lost in a bout of boundless ecstasy, finding yourself back in your husband’s office. This time, he brought you into his arms, enveloping you in his comforting warmth and scent, his kind eyes focused on your face. You couldn’t hear the words for yourself, but you saw his lips moving. ‘I love you.’ That was all you could ask for these days. Just a glimpse. Just a taste of what once was yours.
You were once again brought back to reality by the entity, his heavy, twitching body pressing fully against yours, filling your cunt up with an unending amount of cum, some of it having to spill out, drops of it hitting the ground.
San gazed down at you, his jaw appearing to be completely unhinged, long, jagged teeth curling downwards, easily able to crush you up until nothing remained, his large black eyes now multiplied like an arachnid, still staring deep into yours, seeing his own reflection in them. He stayed still, like he was debating on consuming your flesh and bones — though….if he did that, then his fun would be over. Without another word, San pulled your restraints off and climbed off of you, his horrific, vaguely familar form staying long enough for him to say, “Until tomorrow, Y/N.”
It was then that he disappeared, along with San’s office, leaving you cold and alone inside the seemingly empty room. Having been through this routine time and time again, you walked over to a locker in the corner, putting on a fresh set of clothes, fixing your hair and makeup in the small mirror that sat inside the locker, not looking at it long enough to realize that there were still tears escaping your bloodshot eyes.
You pressed your keycard to the door once more, the system repeatedly leaving a flash of red over your skin until you opened your blurry eyes wide enough so that the blue light could scan them and let you out of the room. Once you were back inside the empty, sterile hallway, you walked to the opposite hall, your heels clacking against the floor along the way, your hands inside your coat pockets.
It wasn’t until you made it to the elevator that you found yourself falling to your knees, not having enough strength to make it inside. Why you did this to yourself over and over was a mystery. Maybe it was the simple fact that you could still visit some version of your husband, even if he was a soulless monster. Maybe it was because you would rather punish yourself, than take the time to heal from what you lost. You weren’t very sure. What you were sure of was that you stayed in the dark long enough to see that there was always light on the other side. You were ready to crawl towards it.
It was then that the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal who was inside. Mingi stood there, his worried expression morphing into one of conflict, some sort of relief mixed with grief.
“Sorry, Min, I just…I couldn’t help it…I’m sorry…” you whispered softly, unable to speak more when he simply lifted you off of the ground into his arms. He held you tight, his warm body encompassing yours, reminding you of the person that was always with you, even if you couldn’t see him. He was there through the heartbreak, through the emptiness, through the fullness, the pain, the pleasure, the grief. He was there through it all, just a thought away. Even though he was gone in a way, he had never left you to begin with, and you knew that now.
You knew.
“Let me take you home, Y/N,” Mingi spoke up, gently carding his fingers through your hair.
“Okay,” you sighed softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, hearing your late husband’s soft voice whisper something into your mind. “Mingi?”
“Yeah?”
With your gentle eyes creasing at the corners, you gave your dear friend a smile filled with warmth, a smile that the love of your life offered you time and time again, your shoulders feeling just a little lighter in that moment. You thought about the clay cats, about how they should be cherished again. “When we get there, can you help me find the key for San’s home office? There’s something I want to show you.”
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© kitten4sannie, 2024.
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The Lucky One
Word count: 11510
A/N: My sweet friends! I hope you're still excited for this story, even after all the time I had you wait. Life was hectic and finding time to write has been difficult. It's fitting that I posted this a year ago, and now posting the update a year later. Happy reading!!!
Warning: smut, female pleasure, phone sex, (brief use of Daddy)
Gala After Gala
please come tell me your favorite part
+
Harry was banned from the bathroom because he was a distraction. Y/N had been stuck doing her mascara for over ten minutes because he made a silly face at her every time she looked in the mirror. Y/N banished him to wait in her bedroom. He decided to look in her closet, wanting to pick her outfit for the night, and noticed how empty it was beside her winter coats hanging in the back, taking up most of the space.
“Beauty?” He called for her.
Y/N answered with a soft “Yes, love?”
Harry asked her what was going on in his head. “Where’s your emerald dress?”
“It was Sapra’s. She let me borrow it.”
“And the black one with the long slit,” Harry asks while continuing to look between every piece of clothing she has.
Y/N comes out of the restroom, hair perfectly curled and lips glossed. He can’t wait to kiss it away. Harry already knows she’s wearing her new favorite gloss, with hints of strawberry. Harry knows because he tested it out for her, ensuring it was a long-lasting taste and not only a smell sold by companies to trick her.
“Dawn’s sister.”
Harry frowns. Y/N attends endless galas, and each dress she wears looks like they were made for her and her alone. Yet, he’s only discovering that most of them were never hers. “The yellow one?”
“Dry cleaners!”
He breathes out a sigh of relief. While Harry knows Y/N might not have much space here, they act as if they don’t spend most of their time at Harry’s, where many of her items have started accumulating. Harry has begun to buy her favorite milk (Oat) and her favorite shampoo (Coconut scent) to have stocked. It has become her place as much as it is his. He knew he could make a closet hers. He hates that he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
“Beauty, I thought they were all yours,” Harry stares at Y/N while she puts in her earrings for the night. “Are you telling me I’ll never see that baby pink dress?”
Y/N rolls her eyes at his dramatics, kissing his cheek as she exits the bedroom. “That’s only for special occasions.” Y/N wore it for her graduation. A midi pink dress with flowers embroidered up the sides and sleeves. Harry could not keep his hands to himself that night, not that she minded. It’d been tucked away for a few weeks until Harry whisked her away to Italy and Greece as a Graduation present, where they spent weeks exploring new cities and kissing on every cobblestone street.
He trails behind her like a lost puppy. “Personally, think every moment with you is special.”
Y/N steps into her heels by the door, but before she can reach down, Harry is kneeling on one knee, placing her foot on his thigh to tighten the strap for her. Harry makes her fall more in love with him each day. Those three words seem to hover around them, but neither of them ever says them because it is told with each action, each kiss. “Thank you, honey.”
He kisses her calf before placing it back on the floor. “All ready, Beauty?”
“Let’s go eat!”
It’s not every day that they get dressed up for dinner, but Harry is leaving on a three-week trip and wants to take her out on a date before they move to Facetime calls and late-night texts. Harry had tried to convince her to come, but work would not let her. Not when she was planning for two different galas to take place in three months.
+
Dinner was delicious. Y/N was so hungry she cleaned off her plate. She always saved a bit to have leftovers the day after for her lunch, but Harry was gracious and ordered a meal for tomorrow. It didn’t surprise her how well Harry was able to read her.
She was strolling behind Harry, eating the ice cream they stopped to get after she told him she was craving something sweet. Harry kissed her and promised they’d stop by the shop two streets from her apartment. He was leading the way into her flat, telling her to get ready for bed, and he’d turn on an episode of Derry Girls for them. It was one of her most-watched series, and Harry enjoyed the humor.
“Nooo, I want to watch an episode of Ghost Files,” she yells from her bathroom.
Harry sighs because he knows this means she’s not tired. She wouldn’t dare to sleep through it because she loves Shane’s dumb commentary. While Y/N promises she doesn’t believe in ghosts, she is also the type to never put herself in any scary or off-setting situation.
Y/N comes in, rubbing moisturizer down her neck, and smiles when she sees a familiar episode playing. “Perfect.” She steps close to Harry, kisses him, and makes him promise to be quick in the restroom because she is ready for cuddles. Harry tried his best to be fast but enjoyed his night routine. He also had to double-check that he had everything packed for his flight tomorrow, not wanting to make a stop at home tomorrow that would have him leave Y/N sooner than he needed to.
By the time he entered the bedroom, Derry Girls was playing, and Y/N was fighting off sleep.
“You took forever,” she mumbled against her silk pillow.
He gave her a dimpled grin and cuddled close to her side. “You love to remind me how important my nightly routine is. That I can’t skip around. Something about my wrinkles,” Harry teases.
Y/N rolls her eyes, laying her head on his chest. “No wrinkles. Maybe some white hairs are coming in, but I think you’d be a sexy silver fox.”
Harry breathes out a laugh, “think I’m that old?”
“You’re perfect,” she pecks his lips.
“Think you’re perfect, too. So perfect for me,” Harry tells her.
Y/N had never felt peace like this, to feel so at home with a partner. Harry showed her how much he cared for her every single day. The ease she felt around him allowed her to be herself the entire time, with no facade, no excuses on why she wasn’t getting ready. Harry had seen her at her best and worst and still chooses her every day.
There are three words on the tip of her tongue dying to come out, but instead, she slips off to sleep in her lover’s arms.
+
Morning came far too soon for Y/N’s liking; usually, she wakes up feeling rested, but this morning, she felt like she tossed and turned all night. Harry, at one point, had to hold her tight against his chest because she was squirming around too much. She apologized, and thankfully, his heartbeat lulled her back to sleep. Now she’s up at six am watching Harry get ready to drive himself to the airport. She had requested to drive him, but Harry didn’t want her to deal with all the traffic madness that went on there. He also knew walking away from her at the airport would be harder. He’d be too tempted to stay in the car and ask her to drive home. Harry loved spending time with Y/N, and since officially being together, they have only gone a few hours apart. Saying goodbye was hard, and he wasn’t looking forward to doing that today.
She got up with him, with sleep still in her eyes, and while Harry went to do a quick rundown of his skincare, Y/N made him a cup of coffee; he bought her some of his specially imported beans from Columbia once he learned she enjoyed it. Harry told her she made the best cups of coffee; while she didn’t know if that was true, she was happy to do something for him.
Y/N sat on her counter, watching him collect his belongings and line them up nicely at the door. He had an order for everything. She knew he kept a packing list because he always feared forgetting something. He knew he had overpacked for this trip because he would be stopping to visit Mum and sister. Y/N thought it was sweet. Y/N had spoken with them over Facetime, but there’s nothing like meeting in person, and if all things went well, she knew she’d be meeting them over the holidays.
She wasn’t used to the quiet of her apartment because Harry always had music playing. He saw she had a record player and bought a bunch of his favorites for her to listen to. She told him she hardly used it because it was a housewarming gift from her brother, Matias, who got it for cheap at an estate sale. When Harry was staying over, there was always a record from Joni Mitchell to Prince.
“You got to call me when you land,” she says, breaking the silence.
“It’ll only be two here, just in time for your break.”
Y/N doesn’t hide her grin, knowing he had already checked their time difference. “Five days in London, and then off to Scotland.”
Harry nods because they both know she has his schedule memorized. He left her a list of contacts she could reach in case of an emergency, and he wasn’t available (he always would be). “Correct, Beauty. Do you want me to bring you back something? Cookies, a bag, or pearls.”
“Only want you.”
“I’ll surprise you,” Harry promises, knowing he’ll stop at his favorite shops to get her something nice to make up for his time away.
Harry steps towards her, sitting on the counter. He places one hand on her waist and the other on her cheek and pulls her in for a kiss. His lips are soft and taste sweet, like his coffee. She sighs against him, not ready to separate, but he gives her one last kiss, telling her he has to put his bags away in the car.
She watches him take two trips while double-checking his carry-on, not wanting to forget his passport, something he’s expressed he’s done more than once. On his final trip, Harry is in the car packing it in. Y/N has moved to lean against the doorframe, watching him fit his luggage in a car too small for two suitcases. There’s a heaviness in her chest, knowing she won’t see him for 21 days. There will be no kisses, no hugs, and no lunch together. Not even a sweet morning wake-up call.
It’s going to be a lonely few days.
Y/N can admit she’s become a bit dependent on spending time with Harry, but she doesn’t think it’s terrible. She still goes to work, hangs out with her friends, and gets her nails done, where she catches up on her favorite podcast, The Happiness Lab, but ends her days in Harry’s arms. He truly has become one of her best friends. While no one could ever replace Sapra, Harry and Y/N shared another level of intimacy. She was thankful to have him in her life.
“What is it, beauty?” Harry asks, stepping toward her, looking beautiful. It’s unfair he wakes up looking this pretty with his messy hair and growing stubble. She knows it’s only three weeks, but she will miss him and wants him to know. Harry caresses her cheek, and she can’t help but lean into his warm touch.
“I’m going to miss you,” Y/N breathes out.
“Miss me or my king-sized bed,” he teases. He told her to stay at his house if she wanted but that she’d miss him less at her apartment. She knew that was a lie; she saw him in everything in her home. Harry had left a touch on everything she had ever owned. From having his favorite blanket thrown on the back of her couch to his extra pair of shoes waiting by
She shakes her head. “Seriously, H. Does Mitch really need you? Sarah’s going.”
“They’ve got a bub to look after,” Harry reminds her.
“But I’m your baby,” she pouts.
Harry laughs because he remembers her telling him “Baby” was too cheesy. Then, one night in bed, when she was close to reaching her peak, he called her “baby,” and it was over for her. She loved it, craved to hear it when he was pleasuring her.
“Well, my baby has to work, or she’d be coming with me.”
Y/N sighs because he’s right.
It’s true, he told her a few months back, but there was too much to be done that she couldn’t take a vacation, not when Harry had told her he had planned a summer vacation for them. It was the only thing keeping her going.
“Well, at least I can go to the farmer’s market.” It was popular, but the earlier she went, the less crowded. “Will need to go get some cash,” she talks aloud, already making a mental list of what to do once Harry takes off to distract herself.
Harry grabs his wallet and a few bills, slipping it into her coat’s pocket.
She reaches in after him, pulling out around what she assumed to be bills that added up to $200. “What’s this for?”
“For your fresh goods.”
“Honey,” she breathed out. “It’s too much.”
“I need to care for you, even while I’m gone.” Y/N goes to respond, but he cuts her off with a quick kiss. “Let me do this. I’m already sad I won’t be there to give you flowers.”
Y/N backs down. He bought her flowers every week. They went from daisies to daffodils. “Thank you,” is her only response.
“I’ll call you every night,” he promises, and Y/N takes him in, knowing she’s got minutes left with him. “Now, be a good girl and give me a kiss.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice.
Harry connects his lips to her in a sweet kiss. He has the power to make her forget everything. Y/N is wrapped up in his sweet taste. She’s aware that his hands trail her body before settling on his favorite spot (her ass). He slips his tongue in, giving him entrance to explore. Y/N knows she could kiss him all day, but they’ve run out of time.
Y/N pulls back breathlessly; she knows her lips are swollen. Y/N ran a finger over her lips as if she could still feel his mouth against hers.
“I’ll text you when I board,” he turns around, walking away from her, ready to drive away.
A strong feeling overwhelmed her, and she could no longer keep in those three words. “Harry!”
He turns around, sunglasses on and a pretty smile on his lips.
“I love you,” she breathes out.
Harry’s eyes widened. “Beauty, beauty!”
He hurries over with shaking hands. “What did you say?”
“I love you, Harry,” she repeats louder.
“Oh darling,” his eyes are glistening. “I want to take you back inside and show you how much I love you.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I love you. I love you so much.”
“You’ve got a long drive ahead,” she reminds him, knowing the airport is always chaotic. She couldn’t believe she had let these words drop now that he was leaving.
“Don’t make me go,” he pleads. “Why now, baby?”
Y/N shrugs, running a hand through his curls. “It was too much to hold in with you leaving me.”
“I’m coming back, Beauty,” he promises. “Always coming back to you. Wish you’d come with me,” he pleads one more time.
Her smile gives away the same answer she’s been giving him for weeks. He knows she can’t. “Drive safe. I love you.”
Harry feels a flutter flow through him. He can’t wait to spend the rest of their lives sharing these three beautiful words. “I love you, Beauty.”
He pulls away, shaking his head. Harry hugs her tight to his chest, and she can hear the pounding in her chest. He kisses her a few more times for good measure.
“I love you,” Harry tells her one last time as he drives away. She waves him goodbye from the porch and keeps smiling until he turns the corner, and that’s when she lets her tears slip.
Y/N’s really going to miss him.
When she’s back inside, Y/N hears her phone ring. She sees it’s Harry and answers quickly, worried something has happened. “You okay, honey?”
He’s silent for a few seconds.
“Honey?”
“Say it again.”
She giggles, “I love you. Call me when you’re there.”
“One last time,” he asks.
“I love you, Harry Styles.”
+
“Hello, you’ve reached Harry Styles. I’m unable to get on the phone right now. Leave your name and number, and I’ll return your call when I’m available. Thank you.” His voicemail filled the quiet of her room. Y/N huffed; it was the third time she had tried calling him, and there was no answer. He promised her a date and even sent her a photo of how he added it to his schedule.
Harry had been gone now for two weeks on business. He had begged her to come, and she almost caved, but there was too much going on at work for her to take a trip. Harry understood; of course, he did. He knew how much Y/N loved her job and would never try to take her from there unless he really needed her.
Y/N throws her phone to the end of her bed, deciding to give up for now. She had prepared a small meal to share with him. She knew it was cold now and couldn’t be bothered to eat it when her appetite was gone. Since her plans are gone, she phones Sapra, who quickly answers on the first ring.
“Babes!” Sapra greets her cheerfully. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Yeah, I got bad news at work. I had a cater cancel on me, and it’s like starting all over again with the hunt for the perfect person. “So,” Y/N dragged out. “I was thinking we can go drink my sorrows.”
Sapra laughs, “Oh my sweet, Y/N.” She takes a moment to respond, but Y/N knows she’s in. “Of course, I’m in. Let me call in the boys and Dawn.”
They settle on going to a bar they know that sells delicious nachos. Dawn’s place is the middle ground, so they agree to meet there.
Time with her favorite people is precisely what she needs. Her friends get along well with Harry, and she likes including him on their outings. It’s nice to go out, have a good laugh, and go home to cuddle with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend is still out of town, so she will return to an empty apartment and a cold bed.
Y/N sent Harry a text to check-in. She hoped nothing terrible had happened but knew in her gut that if something was wrong, she would have a call from Sarah. The only update from Sarah was of her bub swaddled in a blanket Y/N made for him.
While Y/N loves dressing up tonight, she settled on jeans, a white top, and her favorite yellow cardigan, Dawn knitted. It keeps her warm and cozy while elevating her outfit. Y/N finishes slipping on her rings as she walks out the door. Y/N takes the ringer off her phone, slipping it into her bag, promising herself to have a fun night.
Bars are not Y/N’s favorite place because it’s too loud, there is always a weird smell, and mostly because it’s hard to avoid creeps. She stands by the never-going-to-the-bathroom-alone code, and as she waits for Sapra to finish washing her hands, she has to politely move away from men stumbling down the hall. Once they’re settled back in their seats, Y/N relaxes. She has a drink in her hand, vodka cranberry (her favorite), and enjoys the evening. Her brother brought a new friend today, Brandon. He’s tall, a bit pale, and has a buzzcut. Y/N recognizes he’s attractive, but his brown eyes do nothing to her. Her MO when she was in Uni was chocolate brown eyes she could drown herself in, but now she knows the truth. It’s that emerald will always be captivating to her.
Matias shares a funny story about Y/N when she was a child, making the group awe while Brandon shoots her a smirk. Y/N knows he’s flirting, but before she can tell him, she’s not interested. Isaac reminds Brandon that Y/N is a taken woman.
“Y/N’s here alone,” Brandon tries.
“Man is on a business trip.” Matias slaps a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “Promise you, he will hear about this and be on the first flight back.”
Brandon backs up with his hands up.
Crisis Averted.
Y/N can easily defend herself, but she’s glad her brother had her back in this case. Brandon sets his eyes on Dawn, who is all too happy to give in to her flirting ways. She remembers when Dawn would barely speak a word unless spoken to, but after two vodka sodas, it’s like Dawn becomes a new person who suddenly loves to talk. It makes Y/N laugh, but always makes a point to look after her.
After two drinks, Y/N decides that’s all she wants. Everyone seems to agree. The bar gets more crowded, pushing them all together when Sapra gets a bright idea.
“You know I’ve been wanting a new tattoo,” Sapra throws out her bait.
Matias rolls his eyes, “like you weren’t posting about your last one two weeks ago.”
Sapra gasps, “So you do watch my story.”
“More like skip,” Isaac chirps in.
Y/N knows she has to intervene, or Sapra will bite their heads off. “Right, a tattoo sounds nice.”
Sapra clinks her drink with Y/N’s. “Anyways, Roxanne has become a good friend. I can call her to see if she can squeeze us all in for a tattoo.”
“I’m out,” Dawn calls out, who is four drinks in.
Brandon shrugs, “I’m game.”
Y/N looks at her brother and his husband. Isaac and Matias share a look. Y/N knows it’s going to be a no. They are never impulsive.
“We’ll supervise, you idiots,” Isaac shares.
Sapra cheers while Y/N thinks about the placement of her tattoo.
+
The shop was only a five-minute walk from the bar they were at. After Sapra phoned her friend who, yes, was available to tattoo three people at ten pm.
The shop is one Y/N has driven by many times. It’s small and intimate and entirely female-owned. The space is clean, and the receptionist counter has mints for customers to grab. The wall has beautiful paintings from a local artist, and Y/N knows she’d be happy to have one in her apartment (or Harry’s house).
Brandon goes first. He’s quick to explain his tattoo idea. He wants a teddy bear for his nephew, born two months ago. Theodore was his name, and he wanted to do something special as the godfather. Y/N found it sweet. She wouldn’t mind keeping Brandon in the friend group. Mainly because it seemed Dawn was smitten. Brandon had her go back with him, feigning he was feeling nervous and needed Dawn to hold his hand to make him brave; it worked like a charm.
As Brandon gets wrapped up, Sapra expresses her idea. Roxanne tells her it’s great but would prefer Sapra’s recent tattoo to heal a bit longer before going in for a new one. Sapra wants to fight it but knows when to back down.
“You got it, Roxie. But you will do it?”
Roxanne nods her head, making her lilac hair move around her. “Of course.” Roxanne looks back at the group. “That leaves one more.”
All eyes turn to Y/N. She feels like shrinking into herself but instead stands up straight and follows Roxanne to her office. Y/N hands her phone off to Dawn, who promises to keep it safe. Y/N knows there will be a lot of drunk selfies to filter through tomorrow.
Y/N has been thinking of getting a tattoo for some time now. She discussed it with Harry one time, but he always told her it was her body and would ultimately always be her choice. It wasn’t much help. That had been about two months ago, and now she knew she would be happy with it.
“I thought about this for a long time,” Y/N explains to Roxanne as she places the stencil on her ribcage.
Roxanne laughs, “midnight screams impulsive.” Y/N laughs. She’s not wrong. She’s glad to have the company with her alone; she might have walked out of the shop by now. “Ribcage is pretty brave.”
“So I’ve heard,” Y/N responds.
“Hurts a lot.”
“I can take it.” Y/N knows it will be worth it.
Sapra pops in, promising to hold Y/N’s hand if needed. Y/N wiggles her fingers, and Sapra hurries to her side. “This will be very sexy in the summer with a bikini.”
“Harry is going to die,” Dawn giggles. Y/N notices Dawn holding her phone up and knows she’s recording. Well, at least they’ll all be able to look back on this.
Y/N can admit the tattoo process wasn’t painless. It felt like constantly being strung by a bee in the same spot. The only good thing was that no bees died while she got inked. Sapra teared up as she released what Y/N got tattooed. It was a bouquet of Sapra and Y/N’s birth flower (Sapra shared the same month with Harry, but Y/N wasn’t reading into that right now). Roxanne brought Y/N’s vision to life, and it would forever be inked on her skin.
The entire thing took 45 minutes to an hour. Y/N was being told about the aftercare when Dawn felt Y/N’s phone ring. It showed a picture of Y/N and Harry sharing a kiss at sunset. She thought it was no problem picking it up and was soon greeted with Harry’s face, suddenly realizing it was a Facetime call.
“Mr. Styles!” Dawn greeted cheerfully.
“Just Harry,” he corrected with a slight laugh.
“Okay, Mr. Harry,” Dawn fell into a fit of giggles.
He didn’t bother correcting her; instead, he looked for Y/N. “Where’s Y/N?”
Dawn held up a finger, needing to pass the phone as she was still laughing. “Hold on a sec.”
The phone was then passed to Sapra. “Hi,” he waves.
Sapra gives him the cold shoulder. He has a small idea of why but knows she doesn’t need an answer. Y/N does.
“I can explain. But you don’t need to hear it,” Harry tells her.
“For once, I agree. I’ll find out either way,” she reminds him.
Harry spots Y/N in the back of the frame, slipping on her shirt. He catches a glimpse of something around her waist. He frowned but called out for her. “Beauty?”
“Hi, Harry,” Y/N answers confused. “Everything alright?”
“Mhm…do you have a moment to talk?”
Y/N is the only one in the frame, but by all the chatter Harry hears, it’s clear she’s not home. “I will be home in 30. The night was ending. Y/N scratches her neck; she sees the bags under his eyes and knows he hasn’t slept well. “Do you want to talk tomorrow? It can’t be a good time for you.”
Harry feels his heart soften because she’s always looking out for him. He knows he should sleep, but he had a shitty day(s), and he knows even a few minutes with Y/N will make him feel better. Selfishly, he wishes Y/N was home accepting his call, but he can wait for her. He’d wait a lifetime if he had to.
“I’ll call you when I’m home,” she promises.
“I love you,” Harry tells her. He never hangs up without saying it.
“I love you, Harry.”
“Is everything alright?” Sapra asks concerned.
Y/N kisses her cheek. “It will be. I got to get home.”
Matias shows her he’s ordered her an Uber. They’ll share because he would feel awful sending her home alone. Y/N knows she’s lucky to have so many people who love her.
Y/N is thankful her brother knows her well because he put Harry’s address as her drop-off location. She hadn’t stayed there a lot because it made her feel lonely. He asked her to house-sit, but he had no plants or pets to look after. Y/N’s hoping she can convince him he needs one in his life.
She waves goodnight to her brother and makes her way inside. Slipping off her shoes, she wants to call Harry once she’s ready for bed, but it’s been thirty-five minutes, and she hates making him wait. Y/N calls him, and on the second ring, he’s answering.
“Hi, beauty.”
Y/N can hear the relief in his voice. As if he was holding it together until he got her alone.
“Hi honey, I’ve got to get my makeup off, but I didn’t want to make you wait anymore.”
“Put me on video call.” He requests.
Y/N does as he asks. She sets him on the bathroom counter. He stares at her with his pretty eyes, and Y/N knows she’s grateful to have him. She knows she’s in love. The moony look in his eyes tells her everything.
Harry grins, being able to see her blushed cheeks and shimmering eyes. He knows Y/N always uses her Cosmos palette because she’s learned that the glitter makes her eyes shine in any kind of light.
“Fun night?”
Y/N rubs her cleansing balm over her face as she tells Harry about the night’s event. She told him she could hurry if he was tired, but he shook his head no. “Keep talking, Beauty. I’m with you.”
She continues to tell him about how well done her drink was, the perfect mix of alcohol and cranberry. Y/N promised to take him back another time. She spoke about Matias's friend and saw when Harry perked up at the mention of trying to chat her up.
“Will that new friend be a problem?”
She giggles, rubbing her moisturizer into her skin gently. “No. Matias gave him a talk. He got along wonderfully with Dawn, but she mentioned he’s fresh out of a breakup, so she won’t pursue anything.”
“For now.”
“We’ll see, honey.”
Y/N throws the phone on the bed as she begins to get changed. “Beauty, baby? Where’d you go?”
She crawls under the covers, picking up her phone after getting comfortable. “Had to get changed. All tucked in now.”
“No show?” Harry teases.
“Not unless you’re here to take it off me.”
Harry groans. He is aware of how little Y/N wears to bed. “I will get on a flight right now.”
“It’s only a few more days.”
They sit in silence for a few minutes. Y/N knows Harry has much to share, but she wonders what he will start with.
“Was that a tattoo?” Y/N feigned innocence. “When I first called you. Thought I saw something.”
Y/N explains the tattoo Sapra has been in her life for as long as she can remember. Tattooing something is permanent and something he reminded her of endlessly, but in that moment, she couldn’t think of a reason not to get it.
“Do you regret it now?” Harry is still looking at the photo she sent him, and he’s thinking about the pain she went through. He wished he was the one holding her hand.
“No, the pain was manageable. I love it.”
Harry grins, “I love it too.”
She knew he would.
“I love you, Harry.”
“Beauty, oh, Beauty. I’m so fucking lucky to love you. I’m sorry for today.”
“Do you want to share with me?
Harry runs a hand through his hair. Y/N notices she’s propped up against something, maybe a lamp on the nightstand, as she can see both his hands picking at the ends of a t-shirt in his hand. It’s a faded blue, and Y/N recognizes it as a shirt of hers from Uni. She had no idea he snuck that in.
He needed a piece of her with him as well.
“It was a shitty day,” he breathes out. “I was ready to pull out of this deal because they weren’t respecting our requests. They wanted to go for the cheaper cost, but how we run our business is important, and while I was ready to jump ship, Mitch talked me down. We were there all day until we came to a compromise. I felt drained when I got back to the hotel. I laid on the bed to sleep a bit, having set an alarm, but I slept through it. Called you as soon as I woke up.”
Y/N’s heart deflates, “you could have called me later. I would have understood.”
“I already disappointed you. It couldn’t wait,” Harry tells her.
“Thank you for apologizing.” Y/N watches Harry; he looks tired, but knowing him, he won’t hang up first. Y/N isn’t quite ready to let him go. He looks so good, his hair a mess, his swallow peeking under his shirt. Y/N misses the feel of his hands on her body. Misses the way he smells. Misses his hand in her hair. Y/N was lovesick. “It happens. Sure, I was disappointed, but I figured something happened. Long distance, I don’t know how people do it.”
“For love.”
“Then you’re lucky I love you.”
“The luckiest,” he agrees.
Harry tells her a story about Sarah, how she’s checked in on him, reminding him to finish all his work quickly because he’s got someone waiting at home now. He tells her a story about his sister and how she recently got a new dog. It was so small, and little Pixie fell asleep in his arms. It seemed convincing him he needed a pet would be easier than she had imagined.
As Harry tells her story after story, she feels overwhelmed with emotion. She misses him so much, but she also misses his touch. They’ve taken their relationship slowly. Y/N is not one to jump in right away because of past experiences, and Harry has taken that in stride. Y/N is waiting for him to come home so that he can love on her how they both deserve, but right now, Y/N knows just the thing to take the edge off for both of them.
“I’ve missed you. Missed how you’ve taken care of me,” Y/N breathes out.
Harry picks up on her change of tone. “Yeah, Beauty. Need me in between your legs to relax. Work keeps you busy. All you want is to be taken care of. Daddy can help with that.”
Y/N whimpers. Daddy is not something they ever discussed, but at this moment, it’s everything she needs. “I want Daddy to take care of me. Need it. Crave it.”
Harry sighs, his cock swelling when hearing his beautiful girlfriend call him Daddy. He makes a mental note to talk about it tomorrow after they both have a good night’s rest.
“Only a few more days, Baby.” Harry reminded her. “I promise to take care of you until you push me away until you can’t take it anymore.”
“What would you do to me?”
He had no idea this was where their phone call would lead, but fuck he’s ready.
Y/N bites her bottom lip as she waits to hear what he says.
“I’d lay you back on the bed, prop a pillow under your hips just how my Baby likes it. Spread your legs open, and I’ll see how wet you are waiting for me to touch you except, you know me, Beauty. I love to take my time,” he smirked when he saw her close her eyes, a deep sigh leaving her pouty lips. “I know you’re lying in my bed. Surrounded by my smell, I know you are soaked. I imagine you wearing pretty panties, maybe the yellow ones with bows on your hips.”
“What if I told you I don’t have any on?”
Harry bites back a groan. “I’d ask you to show me your pretty pussy.”
Y/N shakes her head, not one to easily give in.
“I’d kiss your pretty thighs. I love it when you smother me between them as I lick you clean. Fuck,” he looks away for a second, and Y/N can only imagine what he’s doing. “I’m fucking hard thinking about you. Thinking about tasting you. How sweet you taste, I swear I’ve never had anything sweeter, Baby.”
“D-d-daddy!” She pleads.
“I’d kiss right over your clit before licking you clean. You’re a messy girl. You can’t help it, baby, but that is why Daddy is here to help.”
“Need more.”
Harry smirked; he knew Y/N was touching herself. He swears he can see how she moves her fingers in and out of herself. She’s so slick, and he knows he’d slip right in if he was home. “Baby, I would lick you until I felt satisfied, then I’d slowly trace two fingers around you. Start by pumping one in and out until you’d beg me for another. I know you can take it. You’re always such a good girl.”
“It’s not enough,” she cries. Harry sees her hand moving, and fuck, he wants her to move the screen down, but he can’t seem to take his eyes away from her face. The desire coursing through her, and sees her trembling, uneasy breaths and knows she’s close to coming for him.
“Daddy would give you everything you asked for, anything and everything.” Harry pumps his hand over his cock. “I’d keep going, curl my fingers in deep, letting your legs trap me in between your thighs. I’d suck your clit over and over again until you scream my name.”
“Fuck!” Y/N shouts. “Harry,” she repeats as she takes herself over the edge.
“My sweet angel, you look so perfect coming for me. The sweetest sight. Wish I was there to lick your fingers clean. No need to waste something so yummy.” Y/N deflates a shy smile now on her face as what happened begins to set in.
Y/N laughs. “Did that just happen?”
“The come on my stomach is answer enough.” He teases.
Y/N groans, “fuck me, Harry.”
“Just say when.” He’s tempted to jump on a flight home, but a few more days is all he needs to wait.
The sweet look on Y/N’s face keeps him calm until he is back in her arms. Y/N is close to falling asleep; he can see how relaxed she is, and he hates having to hang up.
“I love you, honey,” she reminds him. “Hurry back, please.”
“Hold on tight, Beauty. I’ll be home soon.” He blows her a kiss. “I love you.”
Those three words lull her to sleep.
+
Harry was finally home. He had been gone for three weeks, but it had felt like months. He ensured all his bags were packed and drove to Y/N’s apartment.
He finds a parking space right in front. Harry excitedly makes his way upstairs. He knocks, knowing she has to be home, but after a few minutes of no answer, he realizes she’s not home. Heading outside, he checks if her car is parked but finds nothing. Instead, he calls her. She answers on the second ring.
“Hiya, honey,” she greets him cheerfully.
“Beauty, I love hearing your voice.”
“You sap.” He knows she’s flustered.
“Are you home?”
Y/N sighs on the line. “Hannah called out sick, and everyone needed me. Got a few more hours left. Are you all set to arrive tomorrow?”
Harry frowns; he had told her when he was coming in. She must have been too busy to even look at the date. Instead of correcting her, he promises to see her tomorrow. Harry tells her he loves her, waits for her to say it back, hangs up, and decides to prepare a special evening for her.
He drives to the store and picks up the essentials. Orange wine (Y/N’s favorite) decides on ingredients for a pesto pasta that Y/N and he made a few days before he left, and both loved it. Harry rushes home and is pleased to find Y/N’s slippers by the door, meaning she will return here later. It’s a sign she had told him early on that if they’re by the door, it’s the first thing she wants to slip on. If they’re in the entrance closet, then it means she’s tidied up her items for him.
Home.
He was home, and soon, Y/N would be too. While away, it was nice to reunite with his family. His mum and sister told him to visit more, which he would do in the summer with Y/N. Work was work, and while he loved it, this trip kept him away from his Beauty for too long. Harry spent the next few hours doing his laundry, quickly showering, and preparing everything for a bath. Y/N loved lying there soaking up the heat and the smell of her bath bombs.
As Harry stirred the pasta, the smell of pesto filled the room. He hums in delight as he hears the ring of the dryer where he had put Y/N’s blanket to warm to keep her nice and toasty after dinner.
The front door opens. Harry quickly turns off the stove and lets the pasta sit while he waits for Y/N to greet him. He leans the kitchen entrance, staring at Y/N as she slips off her Mary Jane’s and throws her coat on the couch.
Y/N walks by Harry, standing by the kitchen door. “Hi, honey,” she greets and walks by him. It seems she’s running on autopilot, not seeming to process he is back home. Y/N freezes in her tracks, turns around, and stares at Harry. He flashes her his dimpled smile, she had confessed it made her weak in the knees. “You’re home,” she whispers.
He nods. “I’m home.”
“You’re home,” she repeats.
Y/N runs into his waiting arms. He holds her tight, spinning her around as she presses kisses to the column of his neck. He sets her down, his heart close to beating out of his chest.
Harry squeezes her hips. Y/N is smiling up at him, and he feels like the luckiest man alive. Harry leans in, connecting their lips together. Her sweet lips welcomed him, and it was a feeling he never wanted to go without. The kiss has filled him up with so much love and longing. Harry promises to never go this long without Y/N by his side. He wasn’t made to miss her. He was made to stay by her side and love her. Y/N presses against him, making Harry stumble into the wall, but neither seems to mind being too lost in the kiss. Y/N knows she needs to breathe but finds it incredibly difficult to tear herself away. Harry does it for her but doesn’t go far. His lips brush against hers as they take in a deep breath. “I love you.”
He kisses her again.
“I love you too. So much. I love you. I’ll say it forever.”
Y/N wraps her hands around his neck, and Harry knows she wants another kiss. He happily obliges. “Missed you. Missed you so much,” he mutters against her lips.
“Don’t leave again.”
“Never again,” he promises. “Taking you wherever I go.”
They spent a few more minutes holding each other, whispering “I love you” every few seconds. Y/N’s heart is back home, and she couldn’t be happier. Harry gives her butt a few taps promising they could continue later, but he was going to set her up for a bath. Y/N pouts, “I’m supposed to take care of you. You just got home.”
He frowns in response, pinching her butt and making her jump into him. “You’re my baby. My sweet angel. I will always look after you.” Harry sees Y/N begin to melt, and he knows she’s giving in. “We’re starting with a bath, then having some pasta for dinner. Then we’ll go watch some telly in bed.”
“I love you” is her only response.
With a final kiss, Harry sends her off to get clothes in the bedroom while he prepares the bath. Y/N is happy to have Harry at home.
+
Y/N and Harry spent the night enjoying each other’s company. After dinner, they crawl into bed and hold each other tight. Y/N was independent, and she had been from a young age. She’d go to the movies alone, watching a new film. She’d go into the market alone for a quick snack while her brother always requested company. Y/N was comfortable with her own company. She liked who she was when she was with others but also when she was alone.
Her partnership with Harry is something that surprised her. Her family always joked that she was high maintenance and that no one could lock her down because she was a free bird. Yet, she knew he was different from the moment she met Harry. Y/N was ready to walk away from him, but there was something special in Harry that she knew giving him a second chance would not be something she regretted.
Y/N liked who she was when she was with Harry because he made her shine more than she did on her own. Harry always liked to tell her that all eyes turned to look at her when she walked into any room. Y/N didn’t believe it was accurate, but she was glad she captured his attention.
In the morning, Y/N wakes up against Harry. Not a single space between them. Y/N laughed to herself because they drifted away most of the time. Harry always ran hot and slowly pushed away the covers while Y/N hugged them closer. Although they would always be touching each other. A hand on his stomach, one wrapped in her hair, or their legs intertwined. Yet, they managed to hold each other through the entire night; clearly, they both needed it.
Y/N looked at the time and sighed. She had to prepare for work. She was tempted to call out but knew Hannah would still be out. She was careful to move away from Harry, wanting him to sleep in as much as he could when he gripped the end of her (his) shirt. “Stay,” he mumbled.
Y/N sighed and ran her hand through his messy hair. “I’ve got to go in. If I skip lunch today, I can be out by one. Hmmm, I’ll do a half day,” Y/N compromised. “How does that sound?”
“Like I’ll miss you.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll see you at one.”
“Love you, come give me a kiss goodbye.”
Y/N leans down, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I will.”
After a long kiss in bed, Y/N was on her way to work. Y/N thought of the man waiting for her at home, and she knew tonight would be special.
+
Y/N’s promise to be out early was a bust as they had a new contract, and Y/N knew it was the priority. With a quick call apologizing to Harry, she quickly returned to running around the office. She had to talk to planners and directions. Thankfully, her assistant Kacey, who was becoming a quick learner the more time she spent by Y/N’s side. It made Y/N’s job go a lot smoother.
“You can go home now, Kacey.” Y/N knew they should have left an hour ago, but she was swarmed with papers. She hoped Hannah was feeling better. Y/N could run this all on her own but did not want to.
“Ms. Y/N, we’ve got paperwork to send in,” the young girl responded.
Y/N waved her in. She looked over, and it was a few signatures and two emails to send off about what they could provide for the upcoming Gala at the start of Summer. “It’s a Friday night. Please go out and enjoy it.”
Kacey stares at Y/N with a pensive look, and Y/N knows the girl will not be leaving without her.
“Fine. You email Mr. Cameron, letting him know he’ll be contacted on Monday with all they have planned for him. Then, from there, they’ll decide on a meeting time. I’ll manage Mrs. Cash’s change of theme. Twenty minutes?”
“More than enough.”
In record time, Y/N signs away one contract and makes a note to have their lawyer team revise the second. The email quickly gets done, and Y/N shuts down her computer. She won’t be back in until Tuesday, having requested a long weekend, weeks back when Harry told her the date he would be returning home.
Kacey is slipping her coat on when Y/N turns to face her. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
Y/N and Kacey walk out of the office together, making small talk as they walk to their cars.
Kacey is telling Y/N about her weekend plans. “My girlfriend is taking me to see Hamilton.”
“How lovely,” Y/N loves the soundtrack. “I fear I know all the words yet have never seen the actual play,” Y/N confesses.
“I’ll let you know if it’s any good.”
They both know it will be.
Stopping in front of Y/N’s car, Kacey asks Y/N what she will do.
“Harry came back last night, simply spending time together. Opening up whatever gift he got me,” Y/N jokes but knows he has to have accumulated more than a few while away from her.
“Lovely, I’m surprised you came in,” Kacey shares honestly.
“Hannah being out was bad. We couldn’t make it two.”
“That’s true. I’ve heard stories about Mr. Styles and you,” Kacey shares timidly. “All good things,” she’s quick to add. “Everyone thinks you’re a lovely pair.”
Y/N feels her cheeks heat up. “Thank you. I’m fortunate.”
Kacey bids her goodbye. “Ms. Y/N,” Kacey calls out, making Y/N turn back to look at her assistant. “Think he’s the lucky one.”
For that alone, Y/N will make sure Kacey takes Monday off, too. No need for an assistant if the boss is out.
The drive to Harry’s house is calm for a late Friday night. The sun has set, and Y/N is ready to be in his arms again. She parks outside the garage and hurries inside. It’s a surprisingly lovely night for the end of Winter. She hangs her bag and slips on her brown teddy bear slippers, walking through the house trying to spot Harry. He knew she was coming home, the oven light on with what she assumed was their dinner. She can worry about food later. She wants a hug from her boyfriend.
Y/N spots the porch light on and approaches the French doors. She spots Harry lying on a large blanket, a few pillows thrown around him. He has a book on his chest and a mug by his head. She pictured doing this with him in the summer, but it's perfect on a nice night like tonight.
“Honey, I’m home.”
He sits up in a rush, the book falls to the grass, forgotten, and he reaches his hands out for her. “Beauty, hi.”
Y/N giggles as he pulls her to sit in his lap. His lips quick to meet hers, he kisses her as if she had been the one to be gone for three weeks and not a few hours. She moans against him as he slips his tongue in. Y/N, eager for more, pushes him back to lie on his back. Y/N breaks away to press kisses against his neck. Harry hisses as Y/N bites into his neck, but Y/N is quick to soothe it with a quick lick.
“Welcome home,” he pants.
Y/N shakes her head, giving him a final kiss before getting comfortable next to him. They look up at the sky together, and Y/N wonders if other lovers are looking up at the same sky at this very moment.
“Do you think aliens exist?” Y/N asks while she traces the constellations she sees on his chest.
“Probably. This world is too large to be just us.”
Y/N nods, “Do you think Gods exist?”
“Like Poseidon?”
“He’s one of them.”
Harry ponders this for a second, he kisses the top of her head. “I-I hmmm… I’m not sure how to answer. I don’t think I’ve ever thought much of it.”
“Eros is the son of Aphrodite, and his job is to help make love happen. Do you think he was a part of our story? Or was it simply fate?” Y/N isn’t sure what made her bring up this topic now, but she wants to know what Harry thinks. “We have all these ancient stories. We look up at constellations, and we know their stories. Many people will think of them simply as stories, but what if they were real people with real feelings, just like us.”
Y/N moves around until she’s sitting on his thighs, and he moves into a sitting position with his hands resting on her ass. “I think we all have the choice to believe. Believe that there is something beyond us looking out for us, but some believe they make their own future. I like to think all my roads led to you.”
“Cheesy,” Y/N rolls her eyes, but he can see she’s flustered.
“Whether Cupid struck me with an arrow or fate had set me on a course to you from the moment I was born, it led us here, loving each other wholeheartedly.”
“I love you, Harry Styles.” Y/N fists his shirt. “I hope to love you in every single lifetime.”
“Our love is beyond us. It’s bigger than us.”
Y/N is feeling overwhelmed. All her love was pouring out of her chest, and she could no longer express it. She did the next best thing and kissed him. Y/N feels time stop; her heart rate speeds up, but she only feels Harry. It’s as if they’re the only two people to exist. His hands tug her closer, Y/N sighs into his mouth, loving the closeness. She missed someone holding her while he was away, and now that he’s here, she no longer wants anything between them.
Y/N rocks on top of him. She moves in a steady rhythm, enjoying the feeling of having him so close.
“Beauty,” Harry moans.
“Mhm…”
“What are–”
She interrupts him. “Make love to me.” Y/N places a soft kiss on his lips.
Harry and Y/N had taken their relationship slow. They had to after the bad start because of Harry. He promised to be patient and understanding and had gone above and beyond. While they’ve given each other their fair share of orgasms, Harry is giving her much more. They never went beyond that. She could no longer wait, not when she loved and needed all of him. She felt like a part of her had gone missing with him gone for so long, but now she feels whole again.
“Make love to me,” she repeats, staring into his eyes.
“Anything you want, Beauty. I’ll give you.” Harry brushes her hair out of her face, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“Only want you.”
“You have me,” he promises.
Harry and Y/N walk into the house, kissing against every wall. Y/N laughs as he bumps her against the railing of the stairs. Harry gives her ass a nice smack. “Head on up, sweet girl.”
Y/N hurries to his bedroom while Harry gets water for both of them. When he gets to the bedroom, he finds Y/N sitting in the middle of the bed in her panties and bra. There is no mistaking what is happening tonight.
Harry stands at the edge of the bed and beckons Y/N to come closer. She does so quickly, sitting back on the heel of her feet.
“You sure about this, Y/N?” Harry checks in, needing to know where her head is at.
“Yes, Harry. I think I’ve made you wait long enough.”
Harry shakes his head. “Y/N, Beauty. Do not worry about me. I will wait forever for you. You have to know that,” he expresses. “You’re worth the wait. I would never dare push you, Beauty. Not for my own pleasure.”
Y/N wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in tight for a hug. “I love you so much. Thank you.”
Harry kisses her cheek. “I love you, baby.”
She leaned back to look at him, needing him to understand that she did want this. She wants everything with him. “Make love to me, Harry. Show me how good you can take care of me.”
Harry runs his hands up and down her arms. He sees goosebumps all over her body as he places light kisses up her neck. His hand caressed her shoulders while the kisses spread to her jaw, the anticipation eating her alive.
He kissed all the way up to her lips. As their lips met, she felt electricity shoot through her; his soft tongue parted her mouth and met hers. His hands now found home on her lower back, and he pulled her tight against his chest. The kiss deepened, and Harry began to lay her back. Y/N quickly accommodated, landing on the pillows and pulling Harry to land on top of her.
Harry’s hand reached her hip, caressing down her thigh. Y/N trembled, feeling his touch. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It’s beating fast, a nice reminder that she’s not the only one nervous. Their lips separated, and he looked into her eyes. Staring back at him, she nodded for him to continue.
Y/N had helped by removing most of her clothes, but she left her bra and panties for Harry. He traced a finger lightly over the top of her breast. Y/N pushed her chest out, begging for more, but he continued to take his time. Y/N pushed him to sit up, and she followed shortly after. She grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, and he lifted it over his arms and head. She peeled it from his body and threw it onto the bedroom floor. Harry reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Y/N let the straps fall from her shoulders, the bra falling onto the bed, long forgotten. Y/N felt her face flush as she bared herself to him. She grinned as he took her in.
“You’re beautiful, Y/N.”
“Stop it.”
Harry laughs, beckoning her over with a finger. “Come here.”
They’re both kneeling on the bed, his hands on her hips. She puts her arms around his neck, and their chests pressed against one another. Her hands found their way to his shorts, but she made no move to take them off; instead, she stared down at his bulge. She wanted a taste, as always, but he laid her down before she could move down. Her nipples were hard, calling for his attention. He took one in his mouth and sucked gently, then took a slight nibble. Y/N gasped, her hand falling on his shoulder, her nails putting pressure as he moved to do the same to the other one. Y/N’s moans filled the room as Harry focused on her breast; his hand moved down to rub her through her panties.
“Harry, please,” she begged.
He smirked, grabbing the elastic running around her waist. Y/N lifted her hips as he slid the panties off. He threw them on the floor and took in Y/N’s beautiful body. He wanted to kiss her everywhere, but one place was calling his name.
Harry gives Y/N a deep kiss on her lips and moves down her body. A kiss between her breasts, a trail of kisses down her stomach, a gentle kiss on her tattoo, down to her hips. He took a nip off her thighs before slowly beginning to lick Y/N’s pussy. He started slowly, letting Y/N get used to his tongue as he cleaned her up. Y/N’s moan got louder the more he kissed and sucked her juices.
“Fuck, Harry. Please,” she pleaded. “I need more.”
He knew exactly what she needed. Harry slipped a finger inside, moving it in and out as she got accustomed quickly, asking for a second. He was quick to comply, feeling her tense around him. To help her reach her orgasm, he sucked on her clit and curled his fingers, moving them in and out.
Y/N moaned, her thighs tensing around Harry as she came around his fingers. He places gentle kisses on her hips as Y/N comes down from her high. Y/N laughs, running a hand through his curls. “You’re amazing.”
He grins, slowly pulling his fingers out of her. He licks them clean while Y/N watches. Once he’s done, Y/N pulls him in for a kiss, not caring about the taste, simply needing him.
She reaches out for him, “your turn.”
Harry sighs, “Not tonight, baby.”
Y/N pouts. “Please?”
“Promise I’m more than ready. I need to feel you. I want to be close to you.”
Y/N couldn’t say no to that.
Harry discards his shorts and pumps himself spreading his precum over his cock. Y/N moans at the sight in front of her. Harry has always been beautiful, but he looked eternal right now. She can see how thick he is and can’t wait to make love to him. Y/N knows she’s ready for him. He rolled toward the nightstand and reached into the drawer. He pulled out a condom, but Y/N went to stop him before he could open it.
“I’m clean,” she breathed out.
“Y/N,” he starts, but she interrupts him.
“I want it. I’m on birth control. If you want the condom, we can, but this is what I want.” Y/N expressed. “What you want matters too.”
Harry was clean, he had his check-ups, and he was good. There was something so comforting about having the choice together, but his answer was clear: he wanted to feel all of her with nothing in between.
He tossed the condom away. “I’m clean, Beauty. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Y/N laid back down, and Harry positioned himself between her legs. After a silent conversation to check she was okay, he slowly slid inside. He pushed through, and Y/N let out a deep moan. He lowered his body onto hers and held her. He slowly pushed in until the rest of his cock was inside. He stilled, letting Y/N get used to the fullness. Y/N was wet, making it easy for him to pull out and slide back in, but he went in small steps to not overwhelm Y/N.
“I’m ready. Give me more.”
With the okay, he began to thrust in and out, her moans getting louder and longer. It felt so good being this close. Y/N was overwhelmed, but this was everything she wanted. She began to lift her hips into his thrusts, ramming her clit into the hilt of his cock. They rocked together, on and, for what felt like hours.
“Fuck, baby. You were made for me,” he groaned. “My perfect angel.”
Rocking against his every thrust, she ran her nails down his back as he moved faster. She was close to coming. Y/N told him she needed more, just a bit more; he knew exactly what to do as he rubbed his thumb over her clit. She could not contain the shouts and moans as her orgasm rushed through her.
Y/N screamed his name over and over as the feeling of pleasure rushed through her. As Y/N was coming down from the high, she could feel how hard Harry was still and knew they weren’t done. Not that she wanted to be.
She sat up with his help, grabbed his shoulders, and guided him down onto his back. Y/N climbed onto him and straddled his cock. She reached down and guided his cock into her pussy. He slipped in slowly as Y/N took him all in again. She rocked her hips back and forth once she settled on top of him. His hands reached up to rest on her hips. Y/N’s moans urged him to keep going.
“So pretty, rocking on my fucking cock.”
“Harry,” she cried.
Her moans were perfect. Everything he wished for and more.
“Fucking perfect. This cock is all yours. Yours to fuck.”
Harry was filthy in bed, everything she fucking wanted. Yes, it started sweet and romantic, his touches were still gentle and filled with love, but he was fucking her and loving her. Y/N let Harry rock her up and down, allowing him to use her body for his release. Y/N knew no matter what he did, she was going to come with him. Harry helped Y/N lift herself up and down on his cock. Y/N’s eyes were closed, and she moaned softly each time she rocked all the way back.
“So close, baby. So fucking close to coming in you.”
“Fill me up,” she breathed.
Harry felt himself tightening. He couldn’t hold on much longer. He was going to come in Y/N; he was going to fill her up. Y/N kissed him. It was hot, their tongues fighting for dominance, he easily let her win as his hands tangled in her hair, and he fucked into her pushing her to her final orgasm of the night. Harry groaned against her mouth as he let himself go against her walls. Y/N sighed against him as her orgasm ran through her like a wave. She felt light and in love. Y/N had made him wait to be ready, but she knew it was worth it.
He valued her as a person. Her opinions meant something to him. Y/N knew he loved her for who she was as a person, not only her looks.
Y/N parted their lips but didn’t move away. “I love you, Harry. You’re fucking beautiful.”
Harry laughed against her, his cheeks flushed at her gentle words. He squeezed her tight to his chest, kissing her wherever he could: her cheek, neck, shoulder, and lips. “I love love you.”
They held each other, letting warmth wash over them, whispering “I love you” and sweet promises of the future together. It’s everything they wanted and more.
After Harry helped her clean up and took a steaming hot shower together, they settled under the covers, ready to call it a night. Harry had put the TV on, knowing Y/N liked having background noise to fall asleep to, but she wasn’t sleeping. She was content to watch time go by. Harry traced shapes on her bare stomach while she tried to bite back a giggle, though one escaped every few minutes. Her nipples were hard, and if Harry kept going, he would be getting her ready for another round.
“Are you ready for the Gala season?” Y/N asked. “We’ve got the last weeks of winter before you have to share my time.”
“Not going to happen,” he kissed her bare shoulder. “Speaking off, you’ve got dresses arriving from Paris in a few weeks. Called in a few favors, your favorite designers only. A special piece from Daniel Roseberry. I know Schiaparelli is your favorite.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Y/N teased, knowing it was no use fighting against him. It was one of the ways he showed he loved her. There was no stopping him. Plus, this would be something she treasured. She’d look after these dresses, hoping one day to pass them down to the generations in her family.
“Love me?” Harry smiled.
Loving him is the easiest thing she will ever do in life.
+ + +
thank you for reading, sweet angel 🫶
#harry styles#harry x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles writing#harry styles angst#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one shot#harry styles x reader#harry styles fic rec#harry imagine#angst#styles#harry styles fluff#harry fluff#harry smut#fic rec#ENJOY!
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I s2g if you give me anything Caesar I will love you forever 🙏🏻
*Stumbles as thousands of Caesar pics fall out of my trench coat* Listen - Shit - I can explain,
This is just a small little blurb. I have another Caesar request I'm working on that'll be longer!
Title: Phoenix.
Fandom: Planet of the Apes.
Pairing: Heavily Implied! Caesar x Human ! Reader.
Words: 1.8K+
Rating: K. ( Tiny mention of blood, but other than that, fluffy introspective. )
Summary: **Below is set in an AU - Cornelia passed away due to complications from childbirth after Blue Eyes was born. This is happening during the events of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.**
You were chosen to help Caesar put his war paint on.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻
It was very apparent that you didn't know how to hold your body when you were with him, Caesar huffed out a small laugh at that. After all this time, he still made you sweat to the point where he could smell the nerves radiating off you in fragrant waves. Caesar had watched with deathly silent observance the shift of your weight from one side to the other in front of him, perched on a rock to give you enough of a boost to be face to face with him as he propped himself to sit straight. Almost straight as a pin, you thought to yourself and wondered vaguely if it was really comfortable for him. If he had evolved for it to be comfortable. Before the Rise, Chimpanzees were able to walk upright, but never did for extended periods of time, their spines more curved and adapted to move quickly on all fours.
But Caesar--- You have a small pause as your fingers dipped into a crudely sculpted bowl to your right, coating your fingertips with a white, chalky like substance. He held himself with such confidence, an air of arrogance but you doubted that that’s how he intended it to be interpreted. He had to have known how he looked to his fellow Apes, it was obvious in how they talked to him, how he interacted with them, even his own son. But, you asked in your mind if he knew that humans, at least the handful that had seen him in such close proximity, thought similarly.
You scoffed to yourself, raising your hand and taking a deep breath in as your hand was quick to draw a line of white against the side of the Chimps face. He reacted only slightly. If he was pleased being touched, he never showed it in moments like this as you began to intricately trace his war paint. You started with his cheeks, figuring it was the largest bit of the canvas. Or maybe you were being biased in this entire situation. It would be impossible not to, having the intimate bond with Caesar that you did. Not mates, you were convinced of that. Caesar never brought it up, never asked if you cared to be, if you liked to be. That was a mixed bag in itself, the reaction from his Colony might not be so accepting of Caesar’s bond with a human, especially when compared to the previously loved and adored Cornelia, You were just an outlet for Caesar who craved here and there the intricacy of human interaction as opposed to Ape.
Your hand swept upwards after re-applying a dabble of the white makeshift paint to your fingertips. Caesar was silent as his green eyes dug holes into your own, so human-like, so entrancing that you felt he could grab your hips and pull you into him, just consume your entire being and you would allow it to happen with such gratefulness. There was a brief second where the corner of Caesar’s lip jolted, like a fleeting thought of something good passed through him before he slid his eyelids shut, allowing your gentle touch around the bridge of his brows and eye sockets. He wasn’t going to smile, you told yourself over and over, it was most likely a reaction to you touching his face. An involuntary twitch.
You swished your hand upwards into the line of his fur, tapering the white paint off in a flutter. His fur was thicker at this time of year than during the spring and summer months, you noticed. You didn't dwindle there too long despite the growing urge to just grasp a handful of his fur to gloat to others that you had taken initiative for your own selfish fantasies. Uncomfortable again at the fastened sensation resting in the tail of your spine from the intimate nature of the situation, your eyes peered at his broad chest.
With three fingers now splattered with white, you draped coordinating lines along his collar bones, the first set of mirror lines reaching from the middle of his sternum all the way to the end of the shoulder. His fur wasn't rough like you had anticipated, in fact, it was… Hot. Smooth under the paint as it bunched together here and there as you traced what looked like bones down his chest. You only fleetingly placed a touch on his scar, feeling the dip of your touch when you went from fur to bare skin and then back to fur again. How easy it would be to just… Dig your fingers in… Swallowing hard, you admired your work pensively to keep your train of thought from derailing further and nodded in meager self-satisfaction. Caesar was still unmoving in front of you, almost getting a full face of hair as you had moved to give him the last set to complete his ceremonial rib cage. He wasn’t breathing; he couldn’t allow himself that pleasure, feeling that your smell so near to him could cause a snap. He did exhale though, feeling the thrust of your fingers against his diaphragm.
Wiping your fingers on a damp cloth, you drew a deep breath into your lungs. Caesar watched that, how expanded your ribs got when you breathed in and how they deflated, almost in haste as you shifted attention to the bowl with red in it. Green and golden orbs found yours again and your heart jolted in your chest. The deep intensity of his stare always left you feeling weak in the knees and you were incredibly grateful to be sitting. You knew what was next. Caesar knew what was next. You had studied the last few times, Lake working the paint to Caesar’s face. How she applied, how Caesar preferred it to look. Finally, it was your turn. And while you thought Lake would assist, giving you advice as she watched you do it, you found yourself alone with the Ape King. Better to just rip the metaphorical band-aid off.
The red was thicker than the white. Where the white was chalky in nature and would surely only stick to the places on Caesar’s face with deep wrinkles, the red felt goopy. Almost like actual blood, you thought to yourself and felt it trickling down your fingers, tracing the lines on your palm. Caesar closed his eyes again. Two fingers, pointer and middle, pressed to his fur line on his head and trailed down, splattering color onto the otherwise monotone Chimp. You stopped before hitting his nose, taking a few seconds to stab two adjacent lines right at his nose. One shooting off to the left and one to the right, looking like an upside down arrow. Your fingers cupped more red, more than you probably needed. Scarlet droplets hit the ground between you as your fingers finally landed on his sternum itself. The bone was hard under a layer of muscle. It often slipped your mind just how muscular Caesar was. He wasn’t bulky, but dear lord, he surely had lean muscles that served him well. Stopping a few inches downwards, your fingers shook.
‘Cold.’ Caesar must have seen your hand shivering. He didn't speak and you wished deep down that he had. Something about the coarse nature of his voice, laxed from years of not verbalizing, made you feel that guilt-ridden bile in your stomach.
“No,” You said with a forced smile, hating to hear the reverb of your voice. “Nervous. Want to make sure you look good.”
Caesar chortled at that. It was a laugh, sarcastic. ‘Always look good.’
Rolling your eyes at that, you realized that he was trying to calm you down. He had a strange way around it, often relying on his knowledge of human emotions to do just that. It varied, but in experience, joking and being sarcastic was a good way to get them to trust him. If they could see themselves in Caesar, they were more likely to be accommodating and listen to what he had to say. It was a funny way of analysation and when you first met him, it impressed you that he possessed such a quality.
“I need to finish your face,” You whispered this time, Caesar watching your mouth form words so delicately. “Don’t move.”
He wouldn’t think of it. A tinge of pink still lingered on your fingers as you raised them, now four of them pressing to his mouth. Actually, a centimeter or so above his top lip. He pressed them together, silently eager to know what it was going to feel like. If your touches in other ways would feel similar. He’d think about it alone, perhaps when he returned. Tickling your fingers down, You were slow, obsessing over how your fingers felt against him, knowing he could bite all your fingers off here if he chose. You were so focused on getting the paint right that you were oblivious how he looked at you. Tracing his gaze along your face, admiring the tiny freckles that speckled around, only noticeable once close to you, the flick of your lips as you muttered to yourself.
It was a dragging movement you set forward, catching his bottom lip and pulling it enough for you to see his teeth for a split second before his lip bounced back to normalcy and Caesar went back to his regular gruff and flat expression. You pressed pink and took away some white to give Caesar the appearance of a skull mask. Holding his face for a brief moment, grasp on his chin, Caesar furrowed his brow at your action. Fur tickled your fingertips, you wanted nothing more than to continue moving your hand downwards. To scape it across his chest, destroy the paint you just put on him. Smearing over your own body.
“You better not ruin my piece of art.” You shook yourself out of your own thoughts, snapping your hand back just as quickly as you decided to actually hold him. Clearing your throat, you hoped he didn't mention you lingering. You knew he noticed and now, all Caesar got was another awkward smile from you, Knees rubbed together for a second before you decided to occupy yourself with cleaning up.
“Hm…” He muttered, perking up at the sound of clay clanking against each other as you stacked the paint bowls. Eyes were burning into your back, you felt them as you shuffled across the cave to put your things away. “Cannot help it… if it rains.”
A small laugh left your lips at that as you looked over your shoulder at him. The vibration of his voice rocketed through you and it felt strange that your legs were unable to move. He picked his body up, now shifting to his assortment of weapons. So broadening in nature, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that he was the King.
“Course not.” You laughed again, drawing your bottom lip in, hoping to yourself in secrecy that he’d ask you to help clean himself up when he returned. “Can’t help that at all…”
#caesar x reader#caesar x human reader#planet of the apes x reader#planet of the apes#pota#emmy writes#fanfiction#fanfic#kingdom of the planet of the apes#kotpota
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fill you up
ellie williams x reader
summary: no plot just smut. ellie wishing she could cum inside you when using her strap
minors do not interact, 18+ content
cw: dom!ellie, use of strap, little bit of spitting and choking, slight degrading, praise, mentions of ellie wanting to cum inside reader, rough ellie turns to soft at the end
your legs were on ellie’s shoulders as she was practically snapping you in half as she drilled into you with her strap. the sloppy wet sounds combined with your high pitched moans and her breathless curse words was pure fucking filth.
“fuck,” she groaned, loving how your face scrunched up as you struggled to keep your eyes open.
“fucking take it baby, look at me.”
you tried so hard to obey her demand but when your eyelids faltered she gripped your face between her fingers, squishing your cheeks to force you to look at her.
“i said look at me you pretty fucking slut.”
she was hitting it so deep it felt like the tip of the strap was going to hit your lungs. your legs were shaking and if it wasn’t for her holding them up, you’d be collapsing in a heap.
still holding your face she said “stick your tongue out” and you obviously did, letting her spit on it. as you swallowed, looking up at her with teary eyes, she brushed her thumb over your bottom lip muttering “so fucking pretty, baby.”
she then traced her hand down to your neck, lightly pinching either side. her pace didn’t let up and at this point you were seeing stars, the moon, the entire fucking galaxy. your moans became whiny and pathetic causing her to smirk and laugh to herself, knowing you were putty in her hands.
“you’re taking it so well for me, babe, god wish i could cum in you.” your face must have automatically given her such a pleading look because she carried on.
“wanna fill you up with cum and fuck it back into you.” the thought of it turned your insides to mush and you moaned out a little “please.”
“yeah? you want that?”
you let out another string of whiny “pleases” which made ellie feel fucking feral. she took her hand off your throat and leaned more of her weight down onto you so she could kiss you. it was messy and the slight adjustment in the angle of the strap made it hard to kiss her back but she didn’t care. she loved having you like this. a whiny, shaky mess just for her.
you couldn’t see it obviously but you could tell there would be a creamy white ring around the strap as it pounded in and out of you. your stomach tightened and your toes curled so hard it nearly gave you cramp. your hands gripped and scratched at her back as you tried to utter out that you were going to come.
“come with me, baby, let me fill you up,” she groaned. imagining her cum coating the walls inside you as she kept fucking you through your orgasm send you over the edge. your head fell forward, bumping into your leg and your hands held onto anything they could as you basically saw white.
as soon as she knew you’d come, she slowed her pace but didn’t stop, wanting to keep you feeling sensitive. you looked at her, your mouth agape, and she was looking at you like you were the most breathtaking thing she’d ever seen.
she let your legs come off her shoulders and relax a bit, still being spread wide apart though and she stopped moving the strap but kept it deep inside you. she brushed a sweaty piece of hair off of your forehead before kissing it.
“you are fucking amazing, you know that?”
all you could manage was a nod as your arms pulled her down into another kiss.
“you’re fucking amazing,” you breathed out against her lips. she peeled one of your arms off from around her so she could intertwine your hands next to your head as you continued the lazy, slow kisses.
“i’m gonna pull out now,” she mumbled and gave you a second before she slowly pulled the strap out, leaving you feeling empty. she took a moment to take the strap off and reach for a nearby towel to clean you up a bit. the brief absence of her body against yours made you let out a little sigh.
once the strap and towel were tossed to the side she was quick to snuggle back into you, laying between your legs, head buried in your neck and an arm wrapped underneath you. you hugged her close and kissed her temple, she let out a little hmm in approval. it was so comfortable and warm the way your bodies melted into one another that it didn’t take long for you both to fall asleep, completely fucked out.
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie tlou#ellie williams smut#ellie smut#ellie imagine#ellie x y/n#the last of us#tlou part 2#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#ellie williams x female reader#lesbian
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dummy, dummy, I love your tummy
„Binnie, let me go. I need to get ready!“, you whined for the tenth time in a row. Changbin had to attend his company’s Christmas dinner and had asked you to accompany him. This was actually a great deal to you, since the two of you hadn’t been dating for long.
His hands roamed your backside and hugged you tighter, pressing you onto him.
„But I wanna stay like this, with my baby girl on top of me.“ God, he was stubborn sometimes. Luckily, you knew how to play him.
„Binnie, listen. If you let me go now I’ll wear that red dress that you bought me.“
His eyes perked up, he was all ears now. „The red one that exposes your whole back or the other red one that accentuates your tits perfectly?“
Changbin loved gifting you presents, he was obsessed with spoiling you.
You chuckled and placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting up.
„The second one.“
You took your time and placed special effort into your look. You wanted him to be proud of you, you needed him to show you off.
„Baby girl, we’re going to be late. Hurry up please?“
He was shouting from the corridor, already waiting for you. You took a last glance in the mirror and evaluated your look. „Hmmm, something is missing.“ Quickly, you put on the last piece and went out.
The moment Changbin saw you, he was starstruck. Eyes wide open, jaw on the floor, drool coming out of his mouth - he was whipped.
„Fuck, you look gorgeous baby girl“, he stuttered. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. „You kinda look like Jessica Rabbit.“
Laughter filled the apartment as you grabbed your coat.
„Wait“, you felt his hands on your body. He was looking at you intensely as his fingers explored every inch of your clothed corpse.
„Something’s not right“, he mumbled to himself.
„What do you mean?“, you asked in confusion.
Changbin grabbed the hem of the shapewear you were wearing. He eyed you cautiously. „Baby, are you wearing spanx?“
Your cheeks reddened and you looked down immediately. Your stomach had always been your insecurity, so naturally you hid it as best as you could. You grabbed his hands and pushed them off you, smiling sadly.
„Yeah, the dress looks better that way. Come on, we‘re already late.“
You proceeded to the door but your boyfriend grabbed your wrist and yanked you right back to him.
„We’re not going anywhere as long as you haven’t explained yourself. Why are you wearing this? Isn’t this uncomfortable? Can you even breathe properly?“
He was seriously concerned for you.
„It is tight yes and breathing is a bit harder now, yeah. But I have to wear it, Bin. Otherwise I look like a fat whale.“
Your words stung, you saw it in his flinch. „You think you look like a fat whale?“
Shit, how did this turn into a story about your insecurities? You couldn’t talk about it so you just nodded your head. Changbin let out a deep sigh and got on his knees.
„What are you doing?“
He pushed your dress up and stripped you out of your spanx. „I am taking this off.“
„What? No!“ Panic shot through you as you pushed his hands away. „I need them. My stomach is fat as fuck and everybody will see. I really need it.“
Tears streamed down your face. Changbin looked up at you, defeated and heartbroken.
„Why do you hate yourself so much?“
His question caught you off guard.
„I don’t hate myself“, you sniffed in response. „Yeah right“, he snarked. Now, you got angry. Who was he to judge you like that? You turned around and walked into the bedroom. „You know what? I think it’s better if you go on your own.“
For a brief moment you had hope that he would come in and get you but he didn’t. You heard the door lock and broke down on the bed.
Changbin was right - you hated yourself. And now you despised yourself even more for ruining this special night. You cried mercilessly as you sat on the bed thinking about your misery. If only your stupid pouch wasn’t there, if only you had a flat stomach like all the other girls - then you‘d be good. Then you’d be happy.
About an hour later you heard the door open again. Changbin barged in holding another pair of spanx in his hands.
„Let’s go“, he ushered you.
You looked at him confused. „What?“
„I said let’s go. I went out and got myself a pair of spanx, too. If you wanna hate yourself then fine, I’m with you on this one. Let’s wear this shit together.“
Was he kidding?
Changbin stripped down his pants and got into the shapewear, trying his best to hide the discomfort he felt. He grabbed your hand, wiped away the remaining tears and kissed you on your lips. „Let’s go, y/n.“
The Christmas party was lovely but you could hardly concentrate on anything. Your eyes wandered back to your boyfriend, especially to his waist to be precise. He looked uncomfortable and had trouble breathing but he still flashed you his brightest smile. He barely ate anything, he was feeling too nauseous for that. He didn’t say a word and suffered through it but you knew how it felt to wear the spanx.
He was a real soldier, that one. You chatted with his colleagues and his boss, received a lot of compliments for your dress and played some games before you called it a night. Changbin was too busy to properly talk to you, yet his eyes never left you.
As the two of you made it back home he sighed in relief, ripping the spanx off him. „Fuck, let me get rid of this shit. I feel like my organs shrank.“
His actions really made you think. You undressed yourself and looked at your body in the mirror, freeing yourself of everything, too. The spanx left red marks on your body, further proof of your self hatred.
Changbin hugged you from behind, his sad eyes had returned. You grabbed his arms and squeezed his biceps, a ritual you had invented for when you felt overwhelmed.
„Why do you hate your stomach so much?“ He calmly spoke to you through the mirror.
„Because it’s fat. It’s too thick. I want to be skinny like other girls. I want to have abs. But it stays like this no matter what I do.“
It took courage to confess but you were glad you did.
„Do you like my body, baby?“
You laughed. „Of course I do, look at you. You’re like a sexy beast.“
Changbin chuckled. „Well, I hated my body for a long time, baby. All the other guys were slender and skinny but I couldn’t be. I starved myself and tried to lose weight but my body refused. Until one day I finally understood that I don’t have to look like that. I don’t have to look like someone else. I have to look like me baby, and that’s more than enough.“
Tears started flowing again as you felt for him, too.
„You don’t have to look like other girls. And you don’t have to have their abs. Baby girl, all you gotta do is look like you. And you are so beautiful, can’t you really not see?“
Changbin placed his big hands on your stomach, softly, and held you for a while.
„I love your curves. I love your tummy the way it is. I think you are the most beautiful girl on the planet. I don’t want you to change. At all. I wanna buy you sexy clothes and dress you in them. I wanna parade you around and show everybody how fucking gorgeous you are.“
He got on his knees again and turned you around. Changbin left sweet kisses all over your stomach, each one accentuating his honest words. „You may not believe me now but someday you wil, y/n.“
#mykoreanlove#skz scenarios#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#skz x reader#stray kids x you#changbin smut#skz changbin#changbin x y/n#changbin x you#changbin x reader#stray kids changbin#changbin fluff#changbin fanfic#changbin fic#changbin scenarios#skz fluff#seo changbin#skz fanfic#stray kids fluff#changbin stray kids#changbin skz#changbin soft thoughts#changbin soft hours#skz soft thoughts#skz soft hours#skz oneshots#binnie#skz binnie#skz fic
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Please more poly vampires please😭🙏! I can hardly ever find x male/masc reader stuff especially about monsters😭. What happens when they take us back to their home. What's gonna happen to us? What will the townsfolk react?
Poly!Vampires x Reader Pt. 2
CW: kidnapping, silas is a freak for a brief moment
waaaaa !! so sorry this took so long !! thank you all for being so patient with me ! >w< <3
update: i mixed up garrick and silas' names im sorry im sorry its fixed now guys im so-
🌙 Its been a week since the townspeople found your house empty, your bedroom looking like something out of a mystery novel.
🌙 The bed was stained with blood and claw marks were dug deep into your bedframe with the moonlight illuminating your room through your broken window.
🌙 It looked as if you've been taken by a creature of the night, but weirdly enough, your luggage was nowhere to be found. Your closet and drawers had clothes missing and the painting you had just finished was gone.
🌙 Who could have done this?
🌙 "Garrick, it's your turn to drive!"
🌙 "Already?! Just one more minute Viktor~?"
🌙 You're being held hostage, no, hostage wasn't the right word..kidnapped? Enslaved maybe? who knows..All you know was that these..creatures..will never let you out of their sight.
🌙 You remember that night when you bore witness to their inhuman ways, they were at the foot of your bed when you took out the crucifix under your pillow and held it to Viktor, his eyes turning all red and he hissed at the holy figure.
🌙 "Ohoho! Our little mortal's smart!" Garrick grins, showing off his sharp fangs.
🌙 Silas tries to grab you but you dodge, but his long claws managed to cut your cheek, you couldn't say the same for your bedframe..
🌙 Viktor gets a hold of you and chuckles darkly at your cut, the red liquid bleeding out of it made his mouth water.
🌙 "My my~ What a fierce little minx you are my darling~" he coos with a raspy cold breath as he licks your wound. The feeling made your stomach churn and your spine shiver.
🌙 Garrick was busy making a mess of your room and stuffing your clothes in bags. Also stuffing a pair of your underwear in his shirt for himself.. "Come on you idiots! It's almost dawn!" He whisper-yells as he fiddles with the window's lock.
🌙 Silas rolls his eyes and kicks the window, breaking it and jumping through, with Garrick holding his hand.
🌙 You were confused beyond compare. Were they really gonna kidnap you?! What's gonna happen to you?! Should you scream for help?!
🌙 "I'm sorry for this Darling.." Viktor says softly before knocking you out.
🌙 Now back to the present, the 3 rode around in a caravan, a charming little wagon that doubled as a moving home of sorts. One went in front and drove while the other two looked after you or did other things.
🌙 Every escape attempt you had would end up in failure, their superhuman senses were no match for you.
🌙 "Garrick you said that 10 minutes ago!" Viktor growls at the younger vampire.
🌙 Garrick groans "Fiiiiiine!" He says before giving you one last hug and kiss and going out with a coat to shield him from the sun.
🌙 You had about 10 seconds to yourself before Viktor sits down next to you and pulls you onto his lap.
🌙 "Oh how I missed your warmth little mortal~" He purrs, kissing your neck which made you tense up in fear of his fangs. He feels your heart beat faster and smirks. "Am I making you nervous~?" He teases.
🌙 Silas comes over and smacks the dark-haired man on the head "Enough Viktor! Don't you think our precious little darling is frightened already?" he scolds before smiling down at you warmly. Viktor just rolls his eyes and buries his face into your neck.
🌙 He hands you a cup of tea and sits down across from you and Viktor "Drink up dear, mortals like you need to stay warm in the winter~"
🌙 Silas was the most respectful one out of the 3, he was always taking care of you and making sure the others didn't make you feel uncomfortable, but of course he was just as obsessive of you as they were.
🌙 Viktor is such a cuddle bug, always hugging you close every chance he gets. He'd even have the luxury to sleep with you, an activity he hasn't done in a while. He might not need to sleep, but just lying in bed with your adorable sleeping form was like being in heaven for him.
🌙 Garrick love love loves chatting with you. Rambling to you about people he's killed or jewelry he's looted off of his food weren't the best topics to talk about, but he's got no one else to talk to! And you are his darling after all!
🌙 And you could do nothing about any of it. You were treated like a glorified pet and there was no way to leave or escape of have any time for yourself..
🌙 It continued on like this until the caravan came to a stop by a small town. The weather was much colder now than it was in your hometown with rain softly pouring down from the sky.
🌙 Your heart drops, knowing what they're going to do here.
🌙 They all come off the caravan, Silas going to give the horses some food. You refused to leave the caravan in your anxiety-stricken state.
🌙 Garrick notices your nervousness and smiles, sitting next to you and putting his forehead to yours "Darling, you miss home don't you~?" he coos softly.
🌙 You nod slightly as you refuse to look at him or even move.
🌙 The vampire sighs and rests his head on your shoulder and holds your hand. "I know honey...but we won't hurt you! And besides, you don't know these people anyway! You scared we'll kill them and stuff? It's fine! We do it all the time!" He laughs. He wasn't making anything better..
🌙 "You're shit at comforting people Silas." Viktor looks at the red head with a deadpanned expression. "Oh up yours Vik!" Garrick rolls his eyes at him.
🌙 At least that made you lighten up a bit..
🌙 Garrick pulls you up from your seat and you get out of the caravan, rain hitting your face before the vampire opens up an umbrella and holds you close to him so you don't get wet.
🌙 "Its fine dear, this is the last stop before we head back to our new home~" Silas walks over and places a kiss on your cheek.
🌙 Wait..home?..
🌙 "Now gentleman! Who's hungry~?"
sorry this is a bit short ! but feel free to request or ask anything about these blorbos! i love em a lot !
#yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere x reader#male yandere#yandere oc#yandere male#oc yandere#yandere x male reader#tw yandere#monster#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#monster lover#monster x you#monster x human#monster x reader#vampire#vampire x reader#vampire x you#female reader#x reader#yandere x female reader#fem reader#female#trans male#x male reader#male reader
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You Said To Go All Out
Summary: afab!reader x Gojo // What happens when Satoru pretends to be your boyfriend for Christmas Eve and meets your family? Need any more be said?
Warning: 18+, suggestive, fluff, crack fic?, Gojo being insufferable, Gojo being a daddy, Gojo fighting toxic masculinity, slight mention of sex and pregnancy, second-hand embarrassment
Note: I'm such a ho ho ho for Satoru.
✦ Word count is 4.5k. ✦
"So tell me what's off the table."
"Nothing. I want you to go all out."
You reached forward to push the doorbell. The muted chime let you know it indeed worked. Seemed like your father fixed it since the last time you visited. You cleared your throat and shuffled under your coat to appear more presentable. There was a brief period of silence as you and Satoru Gojo stood still, your hot breaths omitting little clouds into the cold winter air. A second more and Gojo let out a snicker.
"Are you serious?"
"I am. Go crazy! Give 'em that Gojo charm."
The tall man next to you tipped his head back and let out a laugh. He seemed very amused. Did you realize the effect of your words though? Maybe you were just too hyper focused to think rationally, but you did just basically give Satoru Gojo permission to be unhinged.
Something he was quite good at.
So what was the permission for? Simply put, you were sick of visiting your parents for the holidays because every damn time they asked if you had a special someone in your life yet. Of course, as the eldest of the siblings, the extra added pressure was on. Pressure that was unwarranted and unneeded. You were not sure if you could go through it again without screaming. So when Gojo saw you deep in thought instead of paying attention to your students at Jujutsu High, he asked what the matter was. As soon as your eyes laid upon him, you broke out into a smile. Eagerly, you asked if he could pretend to be your boyfriend for dinner on Christmas Eve.
Honestly, you weren't sure what he would say. Thoughts of being humiliated had not even crossed your mind - that is until he just stared at you in thought with a wicked smirk pulling the corners of his mouth upward. That look made you second guess everything.
"Why should I help you out anyway?"
"Satoru, please! I'll do anything you want!"
Your breath caught in your lungs as soon as those words left your mouth. Why did you say that? Ugh, so desperate. His teasing tone made your face flush with heat. He hummed as he leaned in, peering at you somehow through that blindfold of his.
"Aaaanything I want?"
With a nervous smile, you stared at his gorgeous pink lips and then his eyes (or at least you thought you were making eye contact). No time to rethink this. Especially with Satoru tyring to outdo your confidence right then and there. You would not let him break you. Besides, couldn't he just agree? He was an old friend anyway! This was not even the craziest thing you two had done before.
"Yes!"
"Okay. I'll pick you up at three."
He pulled back with a smile, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling a tune. Before he closed the classroom door, he chuckled and gave you one more glance.
"Oh, this will be so good."
Fast forward to Christmas Eve. There you two were, dressed to impress and standing at your parents' door. It had been a moment, and still no one answered, so you pushed the doorbell again.
Gojo continued to press you.
"So hand holding?"
"Yup."
"Kisses?"
"Only on the cheek!"
"Can I propose?"
"Yeah, sure. I don't care - wait. You have a ring on you?"
When you whipped your head to face him, he just grinned and started cackling.
"I might." he purred, then explained the one he had was a family heirloom passed down in the Gojo clan. Naturally, you grabbed his arm and shook your head - telling him he could not just use such an important and sentimental item for this little, white lie. However, maybe your parents would actually believe a marriage proposal. You had known Gojo since you were kids, but you weren't sure if your parents would remember him that well. Would it look crazy?
"How about no proposal? That might be too much. Otherwise, just throw everything you've got into this, okay? You can talk about getting married, job stuff, buying a house, whatever."
"Can I talk about sex?"
"Absolutely not!"
Your eyebrows furrowed as you pouted at him. He gave an innocent smile in turn.
"Alright, I'll behave… for now."
He turned toward you, letting his dark sunglasses slip from his nose as he gave a little eyebrow waggle. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling because you needed to be firm with him. Not laugh and indulge him. It was no good as you pulled your scarf up to cover your smirk - something he did notice.
"You dog."
"That the best you got? I've been called worse."
A small squeak escaped your throat when Gojo's hand lightly tapped your ass.
"Satoru!"
"You said to go all out."
He smirked again. You opened your mouth, about to scold him, when all of a sudden the door flung open. Your mother squealed in delight and clasped her hands together upon seeing her beloved eldest child with their boyfriend. She profusely apologized for the wait, babbling on and on about how excited she was to see everyone, how she never saw you ever because you were always off doing jujutsu work, and oh - to see Gojo-san again after so many long years was a nice treat.
"Oh, my! Look at how tall you are! You are just a gorgeous creature!"
"Mooooom! Don't!" you stomped your foot on the ground, but you were clearly ignored as your mother reached out to grab Gojo by the arm. He snickered at how embarrassed you were and turned back to your mother.
"Oh, stop, please! I can't take this!" he smirked with a facetious tone which only made your mother howl in laughter.
"And look at this! Such a gentleman! He even brought my baby flowers!"
"Oh no, the bouquet is for you, ma'am." he handed over the stunning arrangement of red and white roses, adorned with a few pinecones and some candy canes mixed inbetween them all, tied together with a golden ribbon.
"Thank you for inviting me into your home. And, oh - I didn't know good looks ran in the family."
In the middle of hanging your coat and then Gojo's, your eyes widened at that comment. Gojo was definitely overdoing it and then some! After dear old Mom grabbed the flowers, she just started laughing and muttering oh my, oh my over and over. Well, at least Gojo had stolen her heart. This could all actually be believable. She turned her back for one second to let you two finish settling in, and you slapped Gojo on the arm as he was about to walk off. Stop it, you mouthed. He froze. Then, after eyeing you up, he gave you a push in turn as you nearly toppled over since you were removing your shoes and were a bit off balance. A cheap shot. Surely, he forgot how much stronger he was because you landed into the wall silently, nearly sliding down it (you didn't want your mother to see, so you tried so hard to be mute). Gojo twitched at you form clutching at the wall and swiftly hooked his arm beneath yours to steady you as he uttered a bunch of apologies.
Your eyes met, and you growled at him. The only thing you got in turn was another smirk and a stifled laugh. So you slapped him again, this time on the chest. He squinted his eyes. And he lightly slapped your arm in turn. Then you did it again. Then he did it again. Then arms started flailing everywhere. Then it turned into some stupid little slap fight straight out of a sitcom. When your mother called, you both immediately froze. She ushered you two into the dining room and in synch, you and Gojo merrily chased after her amidst the fluster.
When finally in the dining room, you gave hugs to your two sisters - one home from college and the other home from the Kyoto Jujutsu school (a teacher like yourself) - and greeted your dad sitting grumpily at the head of the table. You introduced Satoru as your boyfriend, and of course your sisters were immediately won over at how cute and tall he was. After that settled down, you placed presents under the Christmas tree and sat next to your beloved Satoru at the opposite head of the table. Among all the small chat, your mother came bustling in with an apron tied around her waist.
She frowned at Satoru, "Oh, honey, we're indoors. Take off your glasses!"
"No!" you slammed your hands on the table, and everyone turned to you with perplexed expressions. Realizing you were making an idiot of yourself, you stuttered. Your family was not super versed in jujustu, save for you and one sister, but you didn't want to explain how Satoru… um, functioned.
"Uh… um, he has… sensitive eyes!"
Satoru chuckled, extending out a hand to lay atop yours. He hummed in amusement as he intertwined his fingers with yours.
"I have excellent eyes." he drawled out, giving a small wink as you pouted.
"Don't be so modest, sweetheart." he purred, gripping the edge of his glasses between his thumb and index finger, "Besides, I don't want to be rude."
With a charming smile, Satoru removed his glasses. They brushed ever so lightly against his bangs, the white hair perfectly rolling off them. He opened his blue eyes, batting his snowy-white lashes before his gaze turned lidded. Okay, damn - but why did he have to make it so attractive? Your sisters sat at the edge of their seats, gasping as their faces broke out into wide smiles and for some reason, they grabbed onto each other and screamed. You slapped a hand over your forehead, groaning into the sky.
"Oh, my!" your mother exclaimed, placing a hand against her flushed cheek, "Gorgeous! Just gorgeous!"
Oh, god, why?
What an attention whore. Satoru knew he was good-looking, and he could absolutely back it up. If you thought about it, well… yeah, Satoru was fine as hell! Wait, that was beside the point! He was completely milking everyone there. Through all the cries, you all turned your heads at the sound of your father scoffing loudly and slamming a hand on the dinner table.
"Ain't no way my kid's marrying some sissy pretty boy!"
"Dad!"
You shrieked, face on fire from absolute embarrassment. Your sisters followed suit. He was the one bringing up marriage first? In a panic, you turned toward Satoru - babbling out apology after apology as you gripped his arm protectively. Oh, gosh you were not prepared for this rudeness, and you had not anticipated that your family might mouth off to Satoru. Dear old Dad was kind of rough around the edges, but no one could have predicted this. Satoru just blinked and calmly cocked his head to the side, seeming unphased.
As ironic as it sounded, thank goodness Satoru Gojo had an ego.
"Sir, I can assure you - "
"Alright, pretty boy. Get over here."
You all blinked as your dad firmly slapped his napkin on the table and rose from his seat. He walked over to the living room and pushed the coffee table out of the way.
"Let's have a little wrestle! Come on, let's see what you got!"
No.
No no no no no.
Except for Satoru who was amused, you all looked upon your father in dismay. Your mother ran into the room when she heard this crazy idea, and your sisters jumped up from their seats to urge everybody to sit down. This was the epitome of the embarrassing dad trope, but to actually ask Satoru Gojo to a spar on Christmas Eve? No, this had to be stopped!
"Bet he's never been in a real scuffle! Look at the car he rolled up in. I bet he's had everything handed to him his entire life!"
It surely went without saying that Satoru had definitely been in some fights and had definitely been through some things, but now was not the time to get into those details. It appeared the situation was only getting worse.
"This is ridiculous! We want Gojo-san to come back next year! Not scare him away!"
"Oh no, Dad, please stop this!"
"Not now, honey! Daddy's about to get to work!"
He took a fighting stance. It was insanely ridiculous. This could not get any worse, but you were wrong. So so so very wrong. Satoru chuckled as he fluidly rose from his chair, a smirk playing at his lips.
"Satoru, I - I'm so sorry! Please don't do this!"
A reassuring pat on your head silenced you.
"Now, now. It's fine. Daddy's about to get to work… and your old man is joining too."
Satoru winked. For a split second, you froze under his heated touch when his hand slid down your cheek and tucked underneath your chin, giving your head a gentle shake before he pulled away. A few seconds passed to register what Satoru had just said. Your face erupted into what felt like fire at the notion that Satoru just called himself daddy. At least he whispered it so only you could hear.
"Don't hold back on me just because I'm no spring chicken, pretty boy!"
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." Satoru chided, giving a crack of his knuckles.
He paused.
"But I do need my good luck kiss from my sweetheart first."
Instantly, your eyes widened in shock, and your face went aflush with heat.
"No, I don't think that's necessary… sweetheart!"
With crossed arms, you emphasized the cute petname as a warning. Poor you. That would never actually be enough to stop Satoru.
"You don't have to be shy, my love!" he stepped over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
You were beyond frazzled. Now he was saying my love? Oh, he was really too much. His arms only tightened when you squirmed, and he pulled you closer. His lips puckered, and your eyes darted from them to his closed eyes to your family members staring at you weirdly for reluctantly not kissing him back. This display went on for a bit longer until you uttered under your breath.
"I said on the cheek!"
"Come on, they're watching. It's just a little peck!"
His arms gave a light squeeze.
"I could end this here and now and go home."
Right. Satoru really had no obligation to keep doing this favor, but did it have to be on his terms? Since the moment you stepped foot at the door, it was obvious he was going to torment you and behave in the most outlandish of ways. When you sharply took in a breath, you knew you had lost. He smirked. Nervously, your arms trembled as you struggled to lift your hands to his face. Quickly, you grabbed his cheeks and just pressed your mouth to his for not even a milisecond and pulled away. Satoru's arms let go of you, his eyelids drooping in a lusty manner. He smirked at the cute pout you gave him, eyebrows pulled together and everything. It was so embarrassing.
"Aw, thank you, my little good luck charm!"
Never had you wanted to run away from a family gathering so badly before. Your mom shook her head and giggled like a schoolgirl. Your sisters seethed with jealousy. Dad just squinted his eyes and grumbled in disgust.
"Oh, no you don't, pretty boy! Not in my house! Not without mistletoe!"
"Bring it on, old man."
The victor was long decided before the fight even started. You and your family watched in utter horror at Satoru and your father. You all jolted, clutching each other for support, covering your eyes, gasping, cringing, making faces as a few thwacks filled the air followed by your father's grunts and what sounded like bones cracking. Maybe Dad's spine perhaps? And before you knew it, Satoru had thrown him over his shoulder, and now Dad was on the floor.
And… Satoru was sitting on top of him.
Dad never stood a chance.
Satoru grinned, "I should have mentioned before that I'm an expert at martial arts!"
No no no no no, this could not be happening. You clapped your hands over your mouth. Dinner was over. Christmas Eve was over. Time to go home. You were prepared to high tail it out of there.
"O - Okay! I give!" your father screeched, "I'm sorry for calling you sissy! I misjudged you!"
Satoru got off him and extended out a hand to help your father up. At least he took those stupid insults with utmost grace. Mom ran forward with an ice pack in preparation as Dad cracked his back to loosen up once more. Instead of being livid… he just gripped Satoru's hand firmly in a handshake.
"Martial arts, huh? Very impressive, son!"
Oh, it was son now?
It was unbelievable that any of this was happening! Blinking off your initial shock, you ran right up to Satoru and curled your arms around his. With the fakest of smiles, you nuzzled your head into your boyfriend's arm.
"Oh, what a good fight! You're so strong, sweetheart! Now come sit down… and don't do anything!"
"Dinner's ready!"
Your father groaned as he sat in his chair, "G - great…"
Dinner went pretty normal. Satoru toned it down a notch for the time being. He laughed and placed his hand on your thigh when talking. He talked about his fancy car that all of a sudden your dad loved. They talked about Satoru's natural talent for martial arts again. He passed the potatoes when asked. He refused a glass of wine. There was some light conversation between the delicious food, and Satoru cracked a couple jokes here and there. Of course your tipsy parents laughed at everything he said and pried into your romantic life a bit more. They asked everything you could imagine, including why they hadn't heard you were dating Satoru Gojo sooner - however, Satoru was quick to explain it was all meant to be a fun surprise. At least he helped out there. It seemed he was bonefied boyfriend material.
But then, things started to go awry again.
When it was time to get up and move to the other room for opening gifts, Satoru promptly grabbed your hand and cleared his throat. As you stopped in place, you looked at him in a puzzled manner. He smirked at you, before placing a hand over his heart and sighing dramatically.
"Everyone, I have an announcement to make!"
"I knew it! My baby is pregnant!"
"NO, MOM!"
Through it all, you whipped your head to angrily meet Satoru's gaze. He held onto your hand tightly. With pleading eyes, you just silently begged him to get on with whatever this was. Because, to be honest, you were so sick of all these surprises from your fake boyfriend. Slowly, he got down on one knee. You felt your eyes widen as your jaw slowly dropped open.
You specifically said no proposal!
"I know we haven't been together for very long, but everything just feels… so right with you. Sweetheart, I love you."
SATORU, WHYYYYYY?
He pulled out a small navy velvet box. He opened it up to reveal the family ring inside he told you about only hours earlier. Now that you had gotten a better look, it was very pretty. It matched Satoru's eyes. In fact, it was a perfect copy of all the shine, all the sparkles, and all the clarity reflected in his own six eyes.
"Will you marry me?"
Although it was a fake proposal, you couldn't help the fact that your face heated up. For a moment, you clutched your free hand to your chest and your eyebrows pulled together. Your head tilted to the side as you gave him a dreamy look and such an adoring smile. When Satoru gave you a wink and whispered nice under his breath - you snapped out of it. Oh, yes! Remember this was all fake! With a slight gasp, you turned to see your family with wide smiles painted across their faces.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. For some reason, your throat was tightening as your breath quickened. Your eyebrows twitched in nervousness, and you blinked when tears started pooling at the corners of your eyes. Satoru blinked, nearly losing his happy expression upon seeing yours waver. Seeing your family like that… so happy, and all for nothing. This charade had gone on for too long now.
"No!"
Satoru's smile faded. And although all fake, you couldn't help but feel your heart rip in two at that hurt face Satoru gave. The way your heart dropped deep into the pit of your stomach upon meeting his azure eyes. You had put him through enough too. The feeling of being so sick welled deep inside your stomach.
Your family was just stunned to silence. Immediately, you turned to them.
"I'm sorry! This is all fake! Satoru and I aren't really dating! I just asked him to pretend being my boyfriend because I couldn't take another minute of you all pressuring me to find someone!"
With a deep breath and a sniffle, you looked down at the man on one knee.
"And I'm so sorry for asking you to do this! I've made fools out of us!"
With that, you ran off crying. Everyone stood in silence. The only noise made was the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut. A few more moments passed, and your mother gripped at your father's arm. There were slight tears in her eyes as well.
"Oh, I didn't mean to… we just want our baby to be happy, and… oh no, I've been terrible."
Your father rested his hand atop your mother's, "Dammit, we screwed up. I'll go talk to - "
"I'll go."
Satoru got up off his knee as he closed the box, returning it to his pocket.
"Oh, honey - "
Your mother began, but Satoru closed his eyes and gave a light smile,
"It's okay. I want to. We talk about everything."
With a blink, your father motioned his arm down the hall to point out the bathroom where you were currently sobbing in. Satoru glided down the hall smoothly, and his knuckles tapped at the door.
"Open up."
"No!" you managed to croak out between hiccups.
There was a brief pause.
"I will break down this door if I have to."
No response except for a sniff.
"I'm gonna do it!"
When you heard the doorknob jiggle, you gasped and immediately flung the door open. Satoru could most definitely break down the door, and easily too. So to save yourself more trouble for the evening, you opened it. Immediately, Satoru pushed you back inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it. You both just stared at each other for a while, until between all the sniffs, Satoru wiped a tear from your eye with his finger.
"Hey." he greeted softly with a small smile.
"Satoru, why don't you just go home?"
"I don't want to."
If you weren't so upset, you would have asked why. There was no energy for that as you were still drying the last of your tears and composing yourself. In attempts to ease the situation at hand, Satoru smiled and spoke his next words so casually. As if nothing had just happened.
"I gotta ask you a very important question."
"Right now? I don't think this is a good time."
He smiled again, seeming to ignore you.
"Will you go out with me?"
A beat.
"Oh, that's real funny, you jerk!"
"I'm serious."
He grabbed your hands in his own, looking at you with a calm and collected face. His blue eyes were slightly lidded again. Even in the crappy lighting of your parents' bathroom, they still shined. They still looked good. And Satoru looked damn good too.
"You said you'd do anything in return, and I want a date."
"Are… are you for real right now?"
"I've been wanting to ask you for a while actually."
You licked your lips at him. You titled your head to the side at the soft look in his eyes. He wasn't laughing, nor was he smiling, and he still held your hands in his own. He continued.
"So let's go on one date. And then you can decide from there if I'm being real or not."
Remember, he touched your butt. He got a kiss. Plus, he proposed to you. All that and you weren't even together. All that, even when you told him not to. If all of that happened, and you weren't even dating yet, then what would the real deal be like?
Satoru was so insufferable.
Maybe… it was all a little fun. And maybe, it did feel natural. Throughout the night, maybe you did think about actually having a relationship with Satoru Gojo. He was everything you needed and more. He was always there, and he made you laugh. There were countless memories with him. On top of that, maybe he'd let you touch his butt once in a while too. He was kind of hot, after all. Just kind of. And the butt. So with a smile, you let out a giggle.
"Yes, I'll go out with you."
A grin broke out on his face as he pulled you in for a hug. You buried your face in his chest and smiled when you reached your arms around to clutch the fabric of his shirt at his back. With a deep breath, you never realized how truly nice it was to hold him. Promptly, Satoru pulled back for a minute.
"Oh, by the way I am totally not kissing you in your parents' bathroom. Not hot at all."
He grinned again, and you broke out into laughter. You threw your head back as tears collected in your eyes from how hard you were laughing this time. Once you were able to calm down, Satoru shuffled and stuck his hands in his pocket again to pull out the sapphire ring from earlier.
"Oh yeah, will you at least keep this dumb ring?"
"I could never! That's a family heirloom!"
"Aw, please? It's old and dusty. I don't even want it." he scoffed, basically shoving it into your hands. You took a moment to study his face. He wasn't even looking you in the eye, and a pink hue was at his cheeks. A smirk appeared on your lips.
"You might need it someday."
With a wink, you placed it back in Satoru's hand, slowly closing his fingers around it. You didn't think it were possible, but Satoru's cheeks went even darker and redder in color. Unlike him, you actually knew when to stop tormenting the person you had a crush on. So you quickly changed the subject.
"So when do you want to go on a date?"
"You free tomorrow?"
"I'm all yours."
"All mine?" he purred, "I like the sound of that."
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