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jarofstyles · 1 month

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Stacy’s Mom

Stacy’s mom has got it goin’ on… and Harry’s definitely been noticing for a while.

We haven’t seen a lot of reverse age gap fics and figured it was our time to contribute to the cause. We hope you enjoy!

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Warnings- age gap, unprotected sex, teasing, creampie, soft dom!H

———————

His lip was bitten as he watched her walk across the backyard, sunglasses hiding his gaze. The back of her sundress brushed the softness of her thighs, her hair pulled up in a claw clip as she placed snacks down on the glass table for the group of friends that often frequented the pool at her house. The very house she had won in the divorce just three years ago.

Stacy’s parents had always been generous when it came to letting their home be the epicenter of their friend groups’ hang out. It didn’t stop when they all came home from uni for the summer, everyone falling back into their routine with the hometown group, or after they’d graduated and some had stayed in town. Drunken food at the diner, pub crawls- legally this time-, the mall, the summer carnival, and movie nights and pool days at Stacy’s house. It was spacious and clean and it had only changed a little bit since the divorce. Her hotshot lawyer father paid a nice big chunk of change in alimony keeping the comfortable lifestyle afloat, one Harry was aiming to get for himself. Hopefully after he opened up a garage or two, he’d be able to grab a house like this. Make someone happy.

The problem is, the last three summers all he could think about was someone he definitely shouldn’t be.

It was no secret that she was incredible. Everyone loved Y/N from the start and not just because she was the ‘cool, young mom’ who didn’t make them call her by her last name. She was genuinely kind, loved to make them snacks, would pick up anyone who needed it, let them nurse their hangovers at their house and made them the greasy breakfasts they needed to get through the mornings. The woman was an angel- and she had an exterior to match.

It seemed like in the last few years though, she had been rediscovering herself and her body. Dressing in ways she hadn’t before, ways he knew Stacy’s father wouldn’t like. Denim shorts and tank tops, sundresses, the like. Things that made Harry’s crush morph from minor to major. Y/N had become the centerfold to his wet dreams, the woman he compared other girls to, the one he closed his eyes and imagined in the shower when he was stroking off. He watched her in her kitchen while she chopped up fruit for them, her back turned and imagined approaching her from behind and placing kisses on her neck, hiking the dress up and offering her all the fun she could want.

There was something so tempting about the older woman. Harry’d always sort of had that preference, but it had intensified as he grew up. His friends liked to prod at him about being into MILFs and he couldn’t deny it. He was. There was certainly one mother he’d love to fuck, and it was Stacy’s. In all honesty, it was half the reason he kept showing up here.

“I hate to say it, Stace- your mom is banging.” Jeremy said what Harry was thinking but got a smack upside the head with a waterlogged pool noodle, making him yelp.

“Do not talk about my mom like that you freak!” She hissed. “She’s a beautiful woman but none of you are going to even think about her in any way but my mother.” Her warning glare did little to deter Harry, though he merely shrugged at her to get her to think he agreed. There was no way in the world that he would ever turn away a chance to be alone with Y/N. He would beg on his knees for a chance to touch her.

“Don’t look at me! I’m just saying it. Harry’s the one who’s the MILF Hunter.” Jacob snickered, making him raise an eyebrow. It was true and he wanted to smirk- because yes, he’d fucked a few older women before. Being a mechanic during the week and a bartender during the weekend had their perks, including women who found him to be more than a bit interesting. There had been a few instances he’d taken them up on their offers, quelling their loneliness and lack of orgasm with his own brand of fun. But none of them had ever appealed to him quite like Y/N.

The forbidden fruit theory, maybe. He really, really shouldn’t even entertain it. A crush turned into an obsession though, he was fucked. The moment he thought he had a chance, he would be taking it. As cocky as he could be, he knew he would be able to handle her.

“Yeah, but Harry’s not going to say stupid shit to my mom.” She huffed.

With a smirk on his face, Harry gave a half ass nod before watching the woman of discussion shoot them a beaming smile across the yard before she turned to go back inside. Harry’s eyes ate up every curve, every drop, every inch of skin he could see before she closed the sliding glass door to the deck.

If only she knew.

——

Harry was sitting at home when he got a call from a number he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. People usually gave his number out to people who had car trouble, knowing he was reliable and could always use a bit of cash. It wasn’t something he minded, but he was exhausted tonight. Sitting down in his apartment, he exhaled slowly before clicking the green button to answer the phone.

“Hello, who’s this?” He asked gruffly, his slight agitation bleeding into his tone.

“H-Hi! I’m so sorry to call you so late, but it’s Y/N. Stacy’s mum.” She said shyly. “I’m sorry to bother you Harry, but my car… it’s not starting. I was meant to go to the grocery but it’s just making this noise and-“

His whole body shot up straight as he got confirmation as to who it was. Was it some sort of joke? Or were the angels smiling down on him for once? Any ache in his body and heaviness in his eye disappeared as he stood up from the sofa, making his way towards the door.

“M’on my way. It’s no trouble.” He said in a softer tone, thankful he had already showered. Maybe he’d need to do it again, but he wanted to look halfway decent for Y/N. “It’ll be about 15 for me to get over there.”

“Oh-are you sure?” Her voice was slightly hesitant. “You sound tired and I can order groceries if I need to, I really don’t want to put you out.”

“Promise, it’s not a big deal.” He assured her, tucking his wallet into his jeans before opening his front door. “I’d always help you with whatever you need. Didn’t mean t’’sound so grumpy, I didn’t know it was you calling.” He’d have been halfway to her house if he had known. “Give me 15 and I’ll be there.”

“As long as you’re sure.” He could tell she was doing the worried thing she usually did with her fingers touching her bottom lip. There had been a lot of silent observing on his end towards the woman and he could almost see her in his head. “I’ll make sure to make it up to you.”

Even though there was nothing suggestive in her tone, Harry could feel his prick stiffen up at the mere thought of it meaning something more. It took the whole drive there to will it down.

—-

Harry arrived to the house to see the garage doors open- and Stacy’s car gone.

Was this his divine intervention? He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he knew she had to be gone. Harry was the one who did all the work on their cars, so it wasn’t in the shop. More than likely they’d be all alone.

The summer night was cooling off a bit but there was still a decent amount of daylight left. The stickiness had subsided and it was far more comfortable than he had been at work all day in his damn coveralls. He’d sweat up a storm and cringed the moment he’d had a moment to himself, hating how hot the garage got in the summer months. His own garages would have proper AC one day.

He was thankful for the heat though when he saw Y/N come out from the garage, her lavender dress obviously a swimsuit cover up. The straps of a bikini were underneath it, the halter top of the dress tied behind her neck. It was shorter than her normal dresses making Harry peer up at the sky and ask anyone who was up there to lend him some strength in order to not pop a stiffy in front of her- at least not yet.

“You really didn’t have to come out so quickly. I didn’t think before calling you.” Y/N crossed her arms as she walked towards the younger man who was fishing his toolbox out of the back of his pickup truck. She couldn’t help but admire how much of a man he’d truly become. Tattooed now, shown off by his black tank top. Hair a bit unruly and curled. Stubble on his upper lip and jaw. He was a man now, not a hint of boy in the slightest, and it was a little intimidating. She remembered him when he was far more lanky, 19 and shy. Now he was 23, with larger arms and broadened shoulders, a pretty set of lips and a husky voice. Things she shouldn’t have been paying attention to.

There had been a bit of tension between them somehow, tension she hadn’t been able to pinpoint where it had begun. The one thing she did know is that he was an observer. His eyes were watching her when she came out and he kept eye contact as they spoke, like he was giving her every bit of attention he had when she was talking. Maybe it was the heart sickness she felt but it was so nice to feel listened to, appreciated. Harry always helped clean up, always told her daughter to be respectful to her mum, always asked her how her day was. He was a complete gentleman every time he came over and she had to wonder how much of a problem it was for her to sort of wish for that attention all the time.

Ever since she had found out Patrick had been cheating on her, she’d felt a bit used. Dirty. Of course marrying a man 10 years her senior who was a hotshot lawyer had probably been her first sign something would go wrong, but he used to dote on her. That was until she began to age. It wasn’t like she was old- she could probably still have a kid if she wanted! But she’d gotten pregnant at 17 and Patrick had been quick to marry her on her 18th birthday. A problematic union at best, but she’d tried to be happy. She was provided for and had a beautiful home and daughter, one so smart she was able to skip around in school! But… she’d never felt truly loved. Not that toe curling, soft eyed, tummy turning love that she’d always imagined.

Not even the passion she wanted. All she wanted at this point was for someone to want her. To make a move, to show her she was sexy and prove that her newfound revelations were true.

The last three years had been tearing herself down to build back up. There was some part of her that felt 22 again, wanting to live the life she hadn’t been able to as a young mum. But that didn’t mean she had to look at Harry the way her brain was trying to.

“Stacy is at a concert a few hours away otherwise I would have just asked her to borrow her car.” Having him here now made her feel all the more ridiculous for calling him over for such a stupid reason. Tomorrow would have at least been during normal work hours.

“Y/N.” Harry’s hand rested on her shoulder, making her breath catch quietly. “S’fine. I’m more than happy to help you. Alright?” His thumb rubbed over the cuff of her shoulder before he gently lifted his hand away, carrying his toolbox further into the garage.

She felt a bit buzzed, as pathetic as it was. It had been so long since a man had touched her, let alone a younger, attractive one. It made her feel like her brain had fogged up.

“Keys in the ignition?” He murmured. “Want t’see what we’re working with.”

It was enough to shake her out of her fog, nodding a bit too eagerly as he gave her a soft smile, sitting himself in the driver’s seat. She leaned against the garage door as she watched him turn it over a few times to no avail, making her worry her bottom lip between her teeth. She had no idea about anything car related and luckily it had all been minor stuff until now. Her ex had the cars serviced every few months and she had been dropping the ball. What if it was bad? What if she needed a new engine and Harry thought she was an awful car owner? What if-

Her train of thought was snapped out of it as he let out a chuckle, standing up from the seat. “I know what it is. Isn’t a big problem at all.” He walked over to his toolbox. “Battery is dead. You may have accidentally left the key in, or a door open, maybe a light on. Not a big deal. I’ll just give it a jump.”

While he didn’t seem annoyed about it at all, Y/N felt very, very dumb. How could she have not known that’s what it was? Something so easy to fix. Her cheeks burned as she cringed, feeling the guilt well up in her body for making him come out when she could have just asked a neighbor for a jump.

It took him just a few tries with her following his instruction to turn the car on when she said so in order for her car to turn on as if nothing had happened. It was slightly humiliating.

“Oh, god… Harry, I’m so sorry.” She groaned. “I’m not… I’m not good with cars and I thought the engine was dead or something big happened to it. I made you leave your house for no reason. I can’t begin to say how awful I feel.” It felt even more embarrassing because it was such a quick fix and he was an expert in cars. She probably seemed like a bobble head.

“Woah- S’okay.” He closed the hood of her car and detached the jumper cables. “It’s actually a good thing. I’d rather it be a quick fix than something that would cost you thousands. That’s the ideal. No one is an expert in cars right away and m’sure that the whole thing was probably be a bit troubling if it’s the first time it’s happened to you.” His voice tried to soothe her worries away. The man truly looked unbothered by it all, happy to help- but still.

“Well… if you’re sure.” It still felt hot around her cheeks as she made her way towards the door leading to the kitchen. “Come inside, I’ll get you something for helping me.”

Harry let out a sigh as she waited at the door for him, tucking his toolbox and cables back into his car before following her inside. A mixture of giddiness and nerves rocked through his system as she led him towards the kitchen where her handbag was. Alone with her at last- and with a good excuse. No one would question him coming over to help with the car. Surely, Stacy had given her his number. He had every right to be here.

So why couldn’t he extend his stay?

“How much do I owe you?” Her hair fell in her face as she looked down into her bag, fishing around for her wallet. It was always a bit of a mess with receipts she needed to toss, makeup she needed to put away, a first aid kit she’d only really ever needed once- all the things making it more difficult to find her wallet. So difficult that she didn’t notice how close he got until his warm, slightly calloused hand closed over hers, gently pulling it out of the bag.

Her heart stuttered as she raised her head to look at him. Tanned skin from being out in the sun, a few freckles here and there. A birthmark near his mouth she’d never noticed. He had more scruff than the last time she had seen him too, making her mouth dry a bit as she blinked up at the man, her hand suddenly feeling much smaller in his own. He was a bit too close but there was no desire in the slightest to pull back.

“You know me a bit better than t’think that I’d charge you for a jump.” His voice was low, soft. A volume it didn’t need to be for it being just the two of them. He also didn’t need to be this close to her, close enough to smell a warm, woodsy soap on him and mint from the gum he was usually chewing. Her body felt hot under where he touched her, heartbeat quickening at his unforgiving eye contact.

“B-but you came all the way out here.” She whispered back. It wasn’t necessary to talk that low but it was following his tone, the tension palpable in the room. “I’d feel awful for making you come for nothing. I really should pay you.” His stare was intimidating but also… a bit addicting. He didn’t look away from her- no, his eyes looked over her face. Maybe she had imagined the lingering at her lips, but part of her hoped she didn’t.

“Have you had dinner yet?” His question made her slightly confused, not the response she had been expecting.

“No, why? Did you want me to cook for you?” That made her perk up a bit. She had to do something to repay him. It wouldn’t be right not to.

“No. I want t’cook for you.” His words were matter of fact. There was no way she didn’t believe his desire to do so, considering he looked so sure of himself. It just was a bit confusing. Her brows furrowed, head tilting a little as she turned more towards him- all too aware he hadn’t dropped her hand from his grip yet- giving him that questioning look. “You have the ingredients for chicken teriyaki? Rice?” When she nodded, his eyes glanced over to the pineapple in her fruit bowl. “Saw a recipe on how t’make it in a pineapple bowl. Was going to do it this weekend but I’d like to make it here. A bit more room in this kitchen and… it’d be nice to eat with someone.” He wasn’t shy about letting her know he’d like to eat with her. “May I?”

“I- I mean of course you can, but it doesn’t… how is it payment for you? For you to be the one to cook me dinner?” It was a bit hard for her to understand. She was the one who did the cooking for everyone else and it sounded like he was doing her yet another favor.

“Because you’re fun to be around, nice to talk to, I won’t have t’shop for the ingredients, and m’starving.” It was self explanatory to him. He wanted to get away with spending as much time with her as possible. Especially when she seemed to be so shocked at the idea of someone being nice to her without the thought of repayment. It sort of pissed him off. “Just sit and talk to me while I cook. It’ll be nice to hear you without people interjecting.”

Y/N hadn’t realized he had noticed that. His back was already turned, going through her fridge to get the chicken out along with some of the ingredients for the sauce but her brain was still on that. Had his shoulders always been that broad? Harry had always been quiet and observant. The nice guy, sweet and thoughtful but he didn’t seem to take any of the friend groups shit. Stacy was the youngest out of them all and he’d always been thoughtful about her. Protective over her feelings- to the point Y/N had assumed Harry had a bit of a crush on her at first. That proved to be false when she’d heard about Harry being set up with one of the mothers of the kid’s Stacy taught swim lessons to.

One of her faults was indeed being nosy, and she’d listened in on her daughter when she dropped off lunch to the pool talking to said mother. She was definitely younger than herself with a much younger child but she apparently had one good night with Harry before he politely decided not to see her again.

She wasn’t dumb. Y/N heard their teasing of Harry liking older women… and perhaps that’s why he made her a tad bit nervous. It wasn’t like he’d ever made a move, but he had a sensual air around him. He’d been gentle with her today, but never inappropriate. Was it bad to wish he would?

The answer was a resounding yes, it was not at all something she should ever want- but that didn’t mean that’s what her brain was thinking.

She pulled out a pineapple wine she’d gotten as a gift, never a more appropriate time. A glass was poured for each of them as Harry went about the motions, preparing and chopping and starting the rice. Maybe adding alcohol into the mix wasn’t the smartest idea, but she needed something to take the nervous edge off.

“Is it lonely in a big house like this?” Harry asked as he dropped the chicken into the pan. “When Stace is gone, does it feel a little daunting?”

“Sometimes.” She pursed her lips. “It’s been my house for a while now so I’m used to all the noises and I know all the neighbors. You can hear the kids playing outside, lawnmowers, or people getting home from work.‘At night it can be… it can be a bit unnerving. Cold. But Patrick was gone a lot of nights at the office, so it’s nothing I’m not used to.” A bitter scoff left her as she took a sip of wine before shaking her head, face falling. “Sorry. I know that’s the last thing you want to hear about.”

“No.” He said simply. “I’d like to. I don’t mind.” His tongue ran over his bottom lip before he met her eyes, placing his wine glass on the counter. “Everyone needs someone to vent to sometimes, Y/N. Know m’younger than you and all but I’m not clueless when it comes to relationships.” A gentle smile softened the blow of the words. “Tell me about it if you want. You don’t have to censor yourself. Not around me. It’s just us.”

There was a burn in her belly at the last few words. It felt… really fucking nice to be told that. That he wanted to earnestly hear her talk. He was an incredible listener, she found. It made her wonder how much of what she said in the past he had really heard.

“Uh… well…” twirling the glass in her hand, her fingers tightened around the stem as she had to break eye contact with him. It was making her feel a little light headed. “He was cheating, as I’m sure you know. Stacy didn’t take it well. She’d cut up all his ties by the time I found her.” Her smile quirked on her lips. Her daughter had a thirst for revenge. “It was worse when I found out it wasn’t just one person but multiple women. All at his job. It’s why he moved firms.” Her lips tightened as she looked towards the sliding glass door that was open to let the air in, the sun having started to set just a bit ago. A golden glow ran over the kitchen and she had a hard time not staring at the man in front of her.

“I… I’m not sure how much you know of myself and Patrick, but we were in a relationship when I turned 17. He was 27. I thought it was very impressive and I was so mature for my age that he chose me, but it wasn’t. It was wrong. And when I got pregnant, we had to hide it until I turned 18 and he could marry me. His parents were lovely grandparents to Stacy but awful parents to him in the way they enabled his behavior. So for a long time I just thought it was a big star crossed love story when in reality, he stole my youth from me. I don’t ever regret my daughter- don’t get me wrong.” Her look was desperate for him to believe her, but he didn’t seem to have any judgment on his face. It was a breath of fresh air considering people usually gave her pitying looks this far along.

“I love her and I wouldn’t change it. Everything happens for a reason but… I’m just a bit bitter now. My best years spent on him and he’s fucking other women because I’m ’showing my age’ and I’m essentially aged out.” Her face curled in disgust. “I work hard on my body! I keep up with my appearance! You know? I’m not lazy. I didn’t let myself go which- even if I did, that’s no fucking excuse for cheating. Marriage was supposed to be for love, for better or for worse. At least that's what I naively thought.” It had been so long since she had someone to talk to, someone who didn’t seem to fucking judge her or try and tell her it was okay. Harry merely nodded, keeping his eyes trained on her face as she got it out.

“It should be what marriage is for.” He replied in a bit of a lull. “I mean, I’ve never been married but… S’a simple enough concept to understand. I don’t think you were naive in thinking that. He was just a dick for taking advantage of you.” Harry didn’t like Patrick much from the start. He’d been a show off, obviously trying to compensate for something. He’d sort of steamrolled over things Y/N used to say, and even though he’d only seen them married for a few times he came over. It was a good thing they divorced in his humble opinion, and not just because he was a bit obsessed with the woman standing in front of him. She seemed to grow from it, her confidence rising tenfold. He’d been holding her back. “I don’t think there’s much wrong with an age gap… as long as the parties are both of legal age.” He chopped the pineapple in half, making sure to make it even. “So, m’sorry you had to go through that. Stacy is great, but I wish you didn’t have to feel that way. It’s shit.”

Y/N felt a bit validated with his words. Maybe it was the wine, but she had a feeling it was just his presence that had her relaxing. He was right on all counts, but it was a little hard to accept at times after being manipulated her whole adult life. Someone was agreeing with her that weren’t her own parents. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I’m glad at least you think so. People kept telling me that marriages have bumps in the road and I was being a bit rash, filing for divorce so quickly after I found out but… Cheating is just not something I can stomach. I think they were thinking about his money, his reputation. Cared more about how he would be seen than if I was happy. I had to do a lot of cleaning up after the divorce. Friends I had for years chose his side and… yeah. I’ve been a little lonely.” A sad laugh left her before she cleared her throat. The man probably didn’t want to hear about that. “But luckily I’ve found more fulfilling things. It’s nice when you guys come around.” Her smile grew genuinely. “I’ve always liked taking care of people. That was one perk of being in the situation I was. Being a mum was great. It’s a bit jarring now though, with her out of the house the majority of the time. So, in the long roundabout answer to your first question- yes, the big house is a bit daunting sometimes.”

Y/N had rambled and babbled. Harry had been happy to listen, attentive even while cooking. She knew she may be embarrassed later about spilling her fucking guts out to him when he had only come over to fix her not so broken car and decided he wanted to make her dinner, but it was so fucking refreshing to have someone in her kitchen with her.

It was embarrassing how much she missed male attention. She’d wanted to clench her thighs together when he grabbed her shoulder earlier and it was pathetic, but it was hard not to notice how wonderful Harry was. He was hardworking, intelligent, sweet, charitable, understanding and stupidly fucking handsome. He could cook too, apparently. Something her ex husband could never even attempt.

“Thank you for sharin’ all that with me.” His voice was even and smooth as he gave her a gentle smile. “I, for one, am glad you divorced him. I think you’re incredible. You don’t deserve someone who’ll step out on you. Let out multiple times.” It truly did piss him off. The man had a woman who was willing to give the world and still managed to be greedy for other women and fucked it up. “I’ve never really understood that sort of thing but, I think you’re too good for him anyways. Know you said you feel like you wasted your youth and by the risk of sounding a bit cliche, age is just a number in this instance. You can do anything you want now that you think you would have wanted to do back then. And..” He smirked slightly. “You look like you could still be in your twenties. So I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Him acting like aging is a sin in any situation is fucking dumb considering it’s something unavoidable and sorta beautiful if you ask me. Older, wiser, more experience. It’s a good thing. To me, at least.”

Y/N did know of his taste for older women and though she had no intention of bringing it up, she seemingly couldn’t keep her mouth shut tonight. Without permission from her mouth, the words fell out like a tumble. “Is that why you go for older women?”

The room fell silent for a minute and she could feel the return of the heat under her cheeks, eyes widening as she snapped her hand over her mouth. It wasn’t something she wanted him to know that she knew, but too fucking late now. His head tilted back up, eyes falling on her own wide ones before he let out a laugh. A reaction she hadn’t expected in the slightest. Her hand fell in a motion to try and apologize but he lifted his own to stop her, calming from the laughter as he shook his head.

“Fuck, M’sorry. I didn’t mean t’laugh, but you looked like you scared the shit out of yourself.” He giggled, running his fingers over the corners of his mouth as they curled into a smirk. “It’s fine. You don’t need to apologize. We’re both adults here.” A clear definition that he was definitely seeing himself on her level. “It’s okay t’ask me about, love. I’m fine talking about it. You just told me details about your divorce so this seems a little tame in comparison.”

As much as she hated herself for it, her stomach flipped at the term of endearment. Harry and her hadn’t spent much time alone before but he had never called her that before. Maybe it was a bit of a bond forming being alone with him. He’d always been a bit ahead of the others in terms of maturity. Not in a creepy way like Patrick used to say about her, but in a genuine hard working way. He’d taken his jobs, career, and promises seriously. It was hard not to know how reliable he was when people constantly used that word to describe him. Seeing him as more of an equal instead of his daughter’s friend was easy when they weren’t around. There was that old soul type of thing she liked.

“I obviously did not mean for that to come out of my mouth. But uh-” She ran a hand over her dress to self-soothe. “I heard them teasing about you and one of the mum’s of the kids Stacy teaches had been bragging about…” The woman didn’t need to finish her stance before Harry laughed through his nose, trying to hide his smirk.

“Ah.” He nodded, turning the heat off on the stove and pouring the sauce onto the chicken. “Yeah. I do, I’ve always preferred older women. I get teased for it but it’s just what I’m attracted to.” There was that thought in his mind though, wondering what the woman had been bragging about. He’d sure as hell fucked her well and thoroughly, but at the end of it he had opened his eyes and it wasn’t Y/N. It’s his common problem these days. Falling out of interest when he realized he was chasing a feeling from people that weren’t the object of his affections. “I went out with her once… went back to her place.” He shrugged. “It was alright. I was pretty up front about not being sure we clicked but she wanted me to come in, so…” He shrugged. The girl didn’t seem to have hard feelings when she texted him a few days later asking for a repeat and he declined because he was going to be here for a get together.

“Can I ask why?” Morbid curiosity, that’s what she would call it. It was killing her since she had found out though. Why does a young man, almost in his prime, go for older women specifically? Not that she didn’t think they weren’t worth that, but it wasn’t the norm. “If it’s not too personal.”

“You can get personal with me, Y/N. I don’t mind.” He clarified, dishing some rice into the pineapple bowls he’d carved out. “I think there’s a few aspects to it but I appreciate maturity. One of my first experiences was with someone a few years older than me and it kept going from there. I enjoy intelligent conversation. Someone who can keep up and not just talk about the things girls my age talk about. Nothing wrong with them at all, but every time I’ve tried dating someone my age it’s fallen flat. I enjoy dates at nice restaurants or at home. Cooking for them, listening to music. I work a lot, I’m not much for clubs. Even pub crawls have been a lot for me at times considering I work at a bar on the weekends, work all day in a garage. People my age don’t usually seem to understand or appreciate my work ethic but.. I want a house like this one day.” He motioned around the kitchen. “I’ve been saving loads of money, staying in my apartment and making sure I don’t spend crazily. I’ve always been a bit of a romantic, so I want t’provide for someone one day. Maybe that’s a little old fashioned but It’s fulfilling to me. Want to open my own garage, maybe multiple and… I dunno, older women have always been more receptive to my plans, to the way I am. And I’m not a huge texter. I like phone calls, seeing someone in person. Dating my age is a lot of that.”

It wasn’t a shock to her that his ethics would be a turn off for younger women who sometimes got a bit in their head about the attention they needed. It wasn’t a drag or anything of that nature, but a lot of younger women relied on that sort of thing. Texting all day that he obviously wouldn’t be able to do. They deserved the relationships they wanted but so did Harry. It was a surprisingly nice answer from him. He had lots of decent reasons that made her feel a little more intrigued than she should be, but she couldn’t help it. The man was alluring.

“And… permission to overshare a little bit?” He asked, wanting to test the waters. Y/N looked intrigued, nodding as she leaned on the counter. “Older women tend to be a bit more.. Compatible with me sexually. A bit more eager. Some are experienced but it isn’t really about that, it’s about knowing what you want. Being a little less shy in asking for what they want. Everyone’s different of course, but I find that a disappointing amount of men aren’t giving women what they want, and I’ve been happy to provide that. I’m a giver, it’s what I like. So…” His pink tongue ran over his bottom lip as he kept eye contact with her. “There’s that aspect of it too.”

Y/N could feel the slight throb between her legs as he spoke. There was no hint of shyness in his face as he spoke to her, just matter of fact. He had no shame, if anything he seemed.. A little smug. Something that oddly made her stomach flip and flutter as he pushed her plate towards her and settled on the opposite side of the island, sitting on the stool.

“I.. I can see that.” She murmured, knowing she must look a little flustered. Considering it had been years since she’d had sex, just the way he was looking at her was working her up a bit further than she would ever want to admit. “I think..” If he was oversharing, maybe she should too. Or maybe that was the slight buzz the wine had provided. “I’m still trying to learn what it is I want. I was only with one person my whole life and then… After the divorce I had a one night stand and it was not at all satisfying. I’ve meant to try and go on dates more often but the few I’ve been on just didn’t feel right.” It wasn’t something she talked about often at all. She had her two girlfriends she talked to about sex- or lack thereof- and the toys they got in order to satisfy what their dates couldn’t.

This little tidbit had Harry leaning in a bit closer, chewing the first bite of his food. It was surprisingly good for a recipe he’d found on a social media site, but he was far more interested in what Y/N had to say. “I mean it’s only natural, isn’t it? To be curious?” He waved his fork in the air. “Was he satisfying you in your marriage?” The look on her face was all he needed to see for an answer. Her lips pulled in and her gaze averted, he did feel a seedling of pity for the woman- but hope for himself. One man’s loss was another’s gain, wasn’t it? He would be able to actually pleasure her. He knew he could. He hadn’t failed yet, and there were genuine feelings there for her so… he had a lot of faith he’d be willing and able to please her. Half of the battle was just listening to her. Knowing what she wanted. “It’s okay, I can tell what your answer is. But m’sorry to hear that.” He frowned. “You deserved better than all of that. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, but you deserved a hell of a lot more for what he put you through.” Personally, Harry would never drop the ball like that.

Realistically, Y/N was his dream woman and this was without knowing what she liked in bed. Everything about her was perfect to him, all except the pesky fact that she was the mother of one of his friends- but honestly? He was willing to risk it. She was worth that sort of risk. She had the demeanor, the charm, the intelligence, and so far, the sort of lifepath that aligned with him. He had to talk his way into it a little bit more than likely, but he was ready to try.

“Thank you, Harry.” Y/N knew she probably looked a little flustered. She was. He was saying all the right things and she felt a weird level of comfort with him that she hadn’t experienced before. He was a man. Maybe he was younger than her, but he had a level head. He could cook. He worked multiple job, had ambitions, he knew what he wanted and he wanted to be a provider. Something that she found to be overwhelmingly sexy. She was noticing him in less than appropriate ways more and more. Like how cut his jaw was as he chewed his food, the scruff on his face, his strong, big hands. So fucking big, making the fork he held look small. His arms were built, flexing as he leaned against the countertop. The memory of his broad shoulders wasn’t too far from her brain either. “You’re… I haven’t spoken to a lot of people about that stuff. I don’t mean to take up too much of your time tonight, I know you must be tired after work but… I really appreciate you coming here, fixing my car, cooking. Talking to me. You’re great company.”

“Like I said earlier, I like being around you.” It felt like he could see into her soul. Green peering inside of her, spreading her open. “If m’being honest, there aren’t many other places I’d rather be. M’happy to help you with whatever you need.”

If Y/N was crazy, she’d think it was a double meaning. She’d overthink and imagine that he was implying something not so appropriate. Things that had her tummy flipping and cunt weeping. Pathetic, she knew that. Here she was, lusting after the younger man as he stared at her from across her kitchen. The sun had now set and the darkness was beginning to set in, and she wanted more than anything to take his hand and drag him upstairs to her bedroom but she had to clear her brain before she did something rash. “I enjoy spending time with you too.” Her smile was soft as she took her plate and brought it to the sink. “Just let me clean these dishes and then I’ll walk you to your car. You’ve been such a help tonight.”

Y/N felt a little shaky as she turned the water on and let it run over the dirty pan and the other dishes she hadn’t quite gotten to. As much as washing dishes was something people usually hated, the girl found it a little therapeutic. She’d just gotten into it, relaxing just a bit when she felt a hand curl around her hip, a cleared plate set into the sink and the other hand shutting the water off on her. “What-”

“I think we’re dancing around it now, Sweetheart.” He said lowly, cuffing his other hand on her waist. Her body stilled as he pressed himself into her, his confidence high as he watched her shaky hand drop the sponge. “I think there’s something we both want and you don’t know how to ask for. And that’s okay.” His nose brushed the shell of her ear as she closed her eyes, swallowing thickly. “I know that you haven't been taken care of. I know you weren’t satisfied in the ways you deserved. I meant it when I said that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Y’know that, right?”

“Harry, what are you doing?” Her voice was breathy as she clenched her over the counter but making no move to leave his grip.

“I’ve been after you for a while, Y/N. I think you pretend to not notice how I look at you. I think… you were a little jealous when you found out I took that mum from the swim group out and fucked her, because you wanted it to be you. But let me assure you… I wanted it to be you, too.” His heat spread along her back as his fingers moved to splay over her tummy, the same tummy that was a mess of butterflies just under his fingertips.

“You did?” While she should have been shutting this down considering this man was friends with her daughter… she couldn’t. Not when he was making her feel more listened to, more desired, more aroused than she had been since… well, possibly her whole life.

“Of course, love. To be honest, I was tryin’ to give you time to adjust. To be single, to find more of yourself. You’ve blossomed so much since I’ve known you. I knew you’d probably want t’reject me because of how you know me, but I just need a chance to prove to you that I can be what you need.” The chills on her skin were unavoidable as his lips smeared over her neck, groaning quietly as he inhaled. “You smell so fucking good, y’know that? Makes me crazy. No one else smells like you… I knew touching you would ruin me.” He pulled her further into him, laying the first kiss on the hinge of her jaw. “I’d be fucked. But I’ve been fucked for a while now. No distraction took away from the fact that any body under mine wasn’t you. Wasn’t the voice I wanted saying my name. I just want to show you that m’worth the risk.”

The low baritone of his voice was making her want to whimper. Soft, hot lips pressed a trail of gentle kisses down her throat that got progressively more wet, making her cunt follow. Leaning back into him, it was hard to fight when her body felt like it needed him. His hand pressing on her stomach, pushing her all the way back until she felt him. Her gasp was wet, a chuckle vibrated against her throat as he ground himself against her ass.

“I’d fill you up. Make you feel it all the way in here.” The pressure on her stomach suddenly made a flash of heat boil in her belly, imagining it. Craving it. It always felt like something was missing during sex anyways. “I know you need it. You need someone to worship you, to make you understand just how irresistible you are. I’ve been dying to do that for you. Makes me so fucking angry t’know the people who’ve had you haven’t pleasured you, made you unsatisfied while I was dreaming about just a fucking lick of you. Just a squeeze.” Her hand fell on top of his own, breathing a bit more labored as the length of him against her ass taunted her further.

“You were?” The woman knew she probably sounded a bit wrecked but she was. Harry was making her needy, desperation filling her chest in a way that almost overwhelmed her. She was hungry for more, more of his touch, his lips, his confessions.

“Mhm. Had t’get my fill in those little touches you’d give me. Running you hand over my back, brushing past me in the kitchen, grabbing my hand. I’ve been wanting to hold you like this. Kiss you until you can't breathe. Make you cum on my fingers, my tongue, my cock, make you melt just for me. S’that something you’d want, baby?” His teeth grazed her jaw getting a little whimper from her throat. “Hm? I’d like some words from you. I don’t mind doin’ most of the talking, but don’t leave me hanging.”

“I would- yeah. I would like that.” She was indeed panting. If she was a different woman she’d probably be ashamed over how much she was actually gagging for it, but there was something that made her truly believe that Harry could back up every single claim he said. “I haven’t been touched in so long but… you’ve made me feel so good already.” The admission made him smile against her skin, she could feel it. “Is this- do you just want sex?”

“No.” Her neck felt cold as he pulled away, manhandling her a bit and making her enjoy it far too much as she was turned and reversed in position to be facing him now. Her chin was grabbed between his fingers and his now dark eyes pinned her own. “S’not just a fuck to me. I like you, Y/N. Know it’ll be a little complicated considering the situation but to put it bluntly, I don’t give a fuck.” There was no room left for doubt with his words. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for fucking years, and unless you don’t want me, there’s nothing and no one else that’s gonna keep me from getting what I want.” When she failed to reply, he coaxed it from her. “C’mon, baby. Words.”

“I-I want that. I just didn’t know it was so serious for you.” She felt her cheeks flush at the intensity of it all. “It’s a good thing though… You’re making me a little dizzy.”

“Yeah?” He crooned. “A little dizzy? So fucking cute. I intend to do more than that, though.” Without another word, he took her mouth. Took it like he owned it, kissed her like it was already his.

Y/N melted into it immediately. Fell into the kiss and clutched his shirt to pull him closer as he made her brain empty of any thoughts but ones pertaining to him. How big his hands were, how easily he moved her around, how soft his lips were, how he tasted, the slight smell of motor oil underlying the fresh, clean smell that followed him over here. It was pathetic, maybe, to completely resign herself, to hand herself over to the younger man but… could anyone blame her?

Yes, he was younger. But he kissed like he had been hand plucked to be attached to her lips. His tongue brushed into her mouth and she moaned out loud, allowing him to kiss her any way he wanted. Y/N was touch starved and she knew it, but there was something electric about the way he held her. The way he kissed like he was starving, like he couldn’t get enough of her. His hand slipped down her back and greedily palmed her ass, squeezing it tight enough to make her whimper. It had been so fucking long since someone touched her like they knew what they were doing, like they knew what to do to make her feel good. Harry acted like she belonged to him already, pulling her leg up over his waist as he pressed her into the counter. “Hop up.” he whispered against her lips, using his hands to cuff her waist and tug her right up on the countertop.

Immediately her legs were spread and his body was between them. While he was somewhat lean, he was broad. His arms were big, his hands were too. She had to spread a bit and let her dress ride up as he manhandled her, yanking her back so she was right up against him. The sweetest whimper left her lips and translated to his, making him pull back to look down at her. Her smeared lip gloss and wide, glossy eyes looking up at him. Hair a little messy when it was usually styled, she looked… alive. The way he wanted her to feel with him. “M’gonna spread you open and get a taste, because I’ve been fucking dying for it for years.” He told her bluntly. “But just a taste. I’ll spend hours between these perfect damn thighs tonight… but I need to be inside of you.” He felt like he toed the line between unhinged and the most control he ever had. The man knew what he wanted, he told her what she was going to get, and yet he felt like he had never been more passionate about something in his life. Finally getting the chance to be with the woman he wanted was something that he had been counting down the days for. Nothing could stop him from doing this.

“Yes, please. I want you… I want you to take over.” She swallowed. It wasn’t always this way. Sometimes Y/N enjoyed the idea of being on top, enjoyed teasing, enjoyed the thought of being in charge for a little bit- but never in her life had she wanted a man to just do whatever the fuck he wanted. It was because she knew he would know how to please her.

That assumption wasn’t wrong.

Seeing the man get on his knees in front of the counter, ordering her to take the dress off and toss it to the side to expose her plain cotton bra and underwear, maybe she should feel a little apprehensive- but the only thing she felt was needy. Desperate. Wanted. The look in his eye told her that he wanted her and he wanted her more desperately than she even knew. His lips kissed over her knees and upper thighs, obviously pacing himself as his fingers tugged the waistband of her panties and slowly peeled them off her body.

Harry wished he spent a bit more time admiring her. He wished he had the self control at this point to not just pull her to the edge of the counter and take a thick lick over her glistening cunt and nuzzle his face into it regardless of the fact he was getting wet- but he didn’t. He pulled her up and onto his tongue, getting the delicious little gasp he had been dying to hear. Manicured nails gripped the countertop behind her and buried in his hair, wet gasps leaving her mouth. Garbles of his name and calling to god, but he was busy. Getting her flavor on every inch of his taste buds and committing it to memory, dipping his tongue into her entrance and lapping up to her clit where he sucked lightly, he was self serving. This was for him and she was reaping the benefits.

“Oh my f-fucking god.” Y/N said in disbelief, watching green meet her eyes as his nose nudged her clit. “Oh, you’re so fucking good, Harry. Holy fuck.” It was hard to comprehend that this man was on his knees for her when just a few nights ago he had been helping her set out snacks for their friend group as they had a hang out at the pool. Seeing him as the man he was, she couldn’t believe she’d never seen him in this light- not seriously. He had completely blown her expectations out of the water as his tongue flicked over her entrance, pressing against it and making her curse repeatedly.

The sound of a belt clanking on the floor was mostly ignored- but his fingers inside of her weren’t. In fact, she teared up slightly at the feeling. “Yes, fucking… finger me, feel me.” She growled, her thighs pressing him closer. He had no problems, humming against her as he played with her clit and opened her up with his fingers- surely for her benefit considering he had felt quite impressive against her ass. “Shit, I can’t believe this.” The laugh was quickly melded into a moan as he pulled her clit back into his mouth and added a second finger.

Harry shook his head into her cunt. He felt her clench around his fingers and the sounds of pleasure above him, and he didn't want to stop but if he didn’t, he was positive he was going to blow his load all over the kitchen floor. There was no bothering to wipe his chin as he stood back up, gripping her face for another deep kiss. “M’obsessed. Tastes even better than I expected… You’re never going to get me away from it.” He wasn’t even joking. He would gladly call off his shift from the bar tomorrow if it meant getting to spend that time tasting her. “But I need to get inside of you. I need to make you cum around my cock.” He went to get his wallet from his pocket but was surprised when she stopped him.

“I’m clean. I’ve- I’ve been tested and I’m on birth control-” Harr interrupted her with a loud groan, fisting his cock in his hand as his pants fell to his ankles.

“Thank fuck.” He laughed. “This may be over quickly, but this isn’t the last time I’m in you. I want to make you cum over and fucking over- but I don’t want to waste my load on the floor when it’s better suited inside of you.” He watched her to answer, but he was pushing in before she got a word in.

“Oh- shit.” Y/N clutched him, looking at him with wide eyes as he sunk into her. Mouth hanging open, she adjusted to the stretch as his head dropped against hers and he kept her eye contact as he sunk in inch by inch. Their breathing mingling as the feeling encompassed both of them. “Oh my god- you’re so fucking big.” Her voice was unfamiliar to herself, sulky and whiny with the pleasure she felt from being stretched.

“I know, baby.” He grinned, holding on to the nape of her neck. “You’ll get used to it.” Without another word, he pulled out to thrust back in. The process was repeated as her hot, slippery cunt clenched around his cock and tried desperately not to give it up each and every time.

It was, again, better than he imagined. Nothing could have prepared him for how good it would be to sink into the perfect hole, how she would grip him and suck in deeper. How she’d soak him and how her fingers would dig into his arm, how all he’d be able to see and smell and taste was her. It completely engulfed him and he had no urge to do anything but stay right here. “Okay?” He checked on her as he ground himself into her, her clit brushing over the hair right above his cock and getting it wet.

“I’m so good.” She slurred, lost in how good it felt to have him inside of her. “I’m so full.” It was insane to her, knowing how she had been treated last time. Even with his direct approach, she’d never felt more cared for, more appreciated. He was working with her, checking in, all while making the first moves that made her feel like he had been hand made for her. “Go harder. I can take it.”

Y/N had never been fucked the way she wanted and that had been apparent to Harry. He just had a feeling and he knew that she was going to need him in ways she hadn’t experienced. Ways he was more than happy to deliver. “I’ll give you anything you want, Baby.” His nose brushed against hers. “Just make sure to scream my name nice n’loud when you cum for me.”

It was unlike sex that she thought was real. Y/N held on to Harry as he plowed into her, his grip on her tight as his eyes looked down at where they were connected. It was wet, so fucking wet and creamy all over the base of his cock that she hadn’t known she could do. Her thighs were spread out and over his forearms as he fucked into her like it was his one and only job, whimpering out his name as he gave it to her the way she’d needed. “I knew you’d b-be able to give me what I wanted.” Her words were jostled as her body was, but he replied with another hot kiss.

Messy, full of tongue and wet, she relished in his desperate need to taste her again. It didn’t matter that her chin was wet or she was getting bruised on her hips, she’d finally felt fulfilled in sex. “Yeah? Y’knew I’d be able to give it to you?” He crooned. “M’glad you knew, because I plan on being the only one doing it.” The words were completely serious and possessive and Y/N loved it. Feeling this level of desire was brand new to her and she didn’t want to give it up.

“Uh-huh, I- I want you to be the one to give it to me.” As wrong as some people may see it, this was the epitome of a man. Even if he was younger- he had a plan, he had two jobs he’d held for years, a place of his own… He had more than some people her own age. Dedication and loyalty like his were irreplaceable. Maybe she was crazy in indulging in this, in allowing him to have her, but after wasting years with a man who didn’t want her- she wasn’t going to turn away someone who obviously desired her, wanted to worship her- and made her feel like she wanted to do the same back.

“Good. I wasn’t planning on letting anyone else get a taste. You’re going to be my woman, this is going to be my pussy, M’gonna keep making you feel good. I don’t care who has shit to say about it.” He grunted, pressing theirs mouths together again as he felt her get close. The rippling around his cock and her soft whimpers against his mouth, her hand gripping him hard, he was close to finally fulfilling his fantasy. His dream girl letting go around him and making a mess. “I can feel it, y’know. Feel how you’re gonna cum for me.” He panted against her mouth.

Y/N felt lightheaded in the best way, her body tingling and the pressure in her stomach building with each scrape of his tip against the spot no one else had reached- or even bothered to look for. Harry was perceptive and keen on her, about to make her orgasm from penetration for the very first time. In all her years she had thought something was wrong, but it turned out that she’d just been with shit people. Her ex husband, the attempts at hook ups, they had no idea how to work her body… But Harry? It seemed like he’d written the manual from the first time he touched her. The only thing she could think about was the pleasure and how good he looked giving it to her.

Lips swollen and teeth grit, vein on his neck visible, his arms flexed as he railed her. It was like fucking her was his purpose, and fuck- he was fulfilling it. “I am.” She breathed, the tension getting tighter in her stomach. Again, those tears rose in her eyes as each thrust jolted the pleasure inside of her. “I am, I’m gonna cum for you Harry.” Remembering at the last minute that he wanted her to say his name, she sure as hell gave it to him. “Please, Harry…. Just keep fucking me, give it to me, you’re right where I n-need.” It was right there, she could fucking taste it. “Harry, Harry-”

“Cum for me.” He coaxed. “C’mon, baby. First of many, show me how you cum on my cock. Get me nice and wet- fuck, you’re gorgeous.” The man was in awe of how beautiful she was, but even more about how good it felt as she began to finish on his prick. Her mouth dropping and her eyes watering as she let out a slew of cusses, the quivering of her cunt making it hard to hold on. “Fucking beautiful, that’s my girl. F-Fuck.”

Y/N felt like she was floating. Pleasure hit every nerve, white hot and tingling. She had no idea what was coming out of her mouth but she felt the burn in her eyes as a tear fell down her cheek, clinging to him as each thrust got that sweet spot and made her tremble in his arms. He didn’t stop, the dark noises he made only spurring her on further. She was wet and she knew she must have completely soaked him. The wet sounds had gotten louder and the way he had groaned let her know she had to have gushed around his cock. “Harry, Harry- H, oh my god.” She bleated, nails digging into his arm. The constant stimulation was only making her more wet and he seemed to be loving it.

Harry was drunk on the feeling, his own orgasm trailing right behind hers as he worked her through it. She’d made a mess, one he was happy to have all over his skin. The scent of her on him would be his reward, her marks even more so. “M’gonna cum.” He growled. “Where? Where do y’want my cum, baby? Tell me where you want it.”

“Inside. Inside me, please, give it to me there.” Her legs wrapped around him tighter, making it nearly impossible for him to pull out- like he’d ever want to. His balls tightened at the words, eyes blazing as he looked down at her face. She seemed just as far gone as him, the suction of her soaked channel making him feel borderline insane.

“You- Fuck, Yeah? You want me to give you my load in that perfect cunt?” His grip on her tightened, sure to leave bruises but that was a problem for a later time. It had been a fantasy of his forever, his spunk dripping from her swollen pussy and now she wanted it- was begging for it. There was no mistaking her rapid nod, head tipped up at him as she whispered ‘please, please, please, give it to me’ and fuck, Harry was only so strong.

He did exactly as asked, his sloppy thrusts hard as he grunted while coming to his end. It flashed over his vision as the loudest groan left his swollen lips, hips stuttering as he buried deep and let loose. Spurts of cum leaving his tip as he unloaded inside of her, the pulsing of his prick felt by both of them as he emptied his balls of every drop of cum. Claiming her, marking her in a symbolic way and the way he’d always been desperate to do.

There was little hesitation as he took her mouth again, giving her a deep kiss. Tongue running over the roof of her mouth before sucking on her tongue, the most unhinged kiss he’d felt in his life as she clung to him and her cunt continued to milk him of every little bit. “Fuck.” He laughed in disbelief against her mouth. He was coated in a light sheen of sweat, Y/N’s hair was a mess and he was still snugly wrapped up in her as he gently moved her back so she was more comfortable on the counter. His hand came up to stroke her cheek, watching her hazy eyes look back into his own. This was his wet dream come true, but Y/N had no idea the man she had just unleashed. He was just… happy. Satisfied, motivated and fucking happy. This wasn’t just a fuck for him. “Meant what I said.” His voice was hoarse as he fawned over her, adjusting her hair so it didn’t stick to her forehead. “M’gonna keep you. This isn’t a one and done and I plan on treating you the way you’ve always fuckin’ deserved.” His lips sampled hers again, feeling her arms come up over his shoulders as she reciprocated. “You’re my dream woman, Y/N. M’gonna make sure m’your dream man.”

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lincolndjarin · 5 months

Text

Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.

“My entire Christmas bonus.”

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.

“Please, Steve.”

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.

Javier P.

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.

Every single woman, except you.

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.

Red chipped paint.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.

Stupid fucking Peña.

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.

Jesus.

You know way too much about him.

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected.

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.

Javier traded for your name?

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.

Javier’s office.

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.

What a foolish question.

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.

“So this is about the secret Santa.”

Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.

Jesus you’re soaked.

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

#pedrostoriesgift23 #lincolndjarin #taro-666 <3 #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

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aphroditessaturn · 9 months

Text

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐓 || 𝐇.

pairing || homelander × fem!reader

summary || Homelander constantly destroys your underwear to the point where you have none left. In conclusion you force him to buy you new ones and have the whole media see it.

warnings || SMUT; we've got tittie sucking, fingering, sublander (I love that word) but also domlander? p in v, unprotected sex, big load (he's a supe so ofc), rough sex, did I forget something?

note || this is my first homelander you guys and sure ain't the last... idk what my problem is with these difficult men and making them soft, please reblog/comment and give feedback!

BLOGS | WEBSITE | AO3 | WATTPAD | TAGLIST

“Yes, and tomorrow you have an interview with Fox,” Ashley told Homelander as she trailed after him, clipboard clutched in her hands. The blonde nodded, not even listening completely because his mind was already on you.

He was only meters away from you and could already hear your light humming over the music that played in the background. Ashley kept talking to Homelander’s dismay, not that he wasn’t interested, especially if she was talking about his ratings.

However, you took over his thoughts and body, god, his body longed for you. With his heavy footsteps he walked towards his penthouse and thinking about every position he would put you in.

Homelander opened the doors, and Ashley was still there. He was close to cursing her out, but stopped in his tracks once he laid eyes on you.

You stood in front of the trashcan, throwing away your lingerie. Completely naked. His eyes went wide, as naked as the day you were born you stood there.

Ashley squeaked, holding her clipboard in front of her eyes, “I’m sorry, god, I’m so, so, sorry,” she apologized profusely. Quickly she run out of the room, shocked as to what she just saw and hoped that Homelander wouldn’t punish her.

“What the fuck are you doing,” he questioned you with a glare, slowly making his way over to you.

In response you pouted at him, pushing all your destroyed lingerie into the trash, “well, you see all my pretty lingerie is destroyed and now I have to throw them all away,” you looked up at him with innocent doe eyes.

“Doesn’t explain why you’re naked,” he pressed, although Homelander didn’t mind but he hated anyone else seeing what’s his.

“I have no underwear, dummy,” you teased him with a smile, one that turned his mind around. He had known for years by now and knew exactly that you acted dumber than you actually were.

His patience was waning and he fought himself to not look at your perfectly hard nipples touching his suit coveted chest.

“I can’t even wear my plain once because my handsome boyfriend ripped them when I was on my period,” you added, acting as if you didn’t know what else to do. Your arms snaking around Homelander’s neck.

“Then buy fucking new ones and don’t let anyone see you naked,” he growled as his hands found a vice grip on your hips. “Mhm, but you know the rule. If you break it, you have to replace it,” scolded him, rubbing your breasts against his suit covered chest and pulling on his concentration.

“Fine, take my card,” Homelander hissed, he wanted to get over this topic and simply fuck you. He pushed you back against the wall, his leather gloved hand stroking along the back of your thigh.

“Don’t think so, you will come with me baby boy,” you grinned at him, hooking your leg around his torso.

Homelander didn’t like that, he couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized and how would it look if a superhero was buying lingerie?

As if you could read his thoughts – which by now you could – you pushed back, caressing his cheek while pushing him back onto the sofa. He laid back with you on top of him, still gripping your waist in a way that was sure to leave bruises.

“Imagine how good your ratings would be if you buy your pretty girlfriend all that lingerie. Men would love the control you have, and women will love seeing a devoted boyfriend,” you whispered, praising him as you moved your cunt over his clothed erection.

He released a strained groan, already painfully hard, “everyone will love you,” you whispered into his ear. You leaned down, your nipple hovering over his lips.

You knew how much he loved sucking your tits and you knew what to say to get everything you wanted.

“And don’t you wanna choose what I should wear? I’m too stup-,” “Fine, I’ll fucking go with you,” Homelander hissed and switched you around, now on top of you and his pearl white teeth bared.

Your thighs clenched, your cunt already soaking wet, but you had to suppress the smirk of triumph.

Homelander latched onto your nipple, sucking on it hungrily while his right hand kneaded your unattended breast. You threaded your hand through his gold-blonde hair, harshly tugging on his roots.

His tongue licked around your nipple before gently biting down causing you to arch your back, “John,” you moaned.

With a ‘plop’ sound he released your breast, looking up at you through his beautiful lashes.

Slowly his hand trailed down to your core, the cool leather of his glove causing goosebumps to dance along your skin. He rubbed his thumb over your clit as his attention directed towards you other breast.

You could feel his desperation, it wasn’t from the conversation just moments before, no. It was because of the other team members had gotten his last nerve, VOUGHT had gotten on his last nerve, everyone had gotten on his last nerve.

“Oh, baby,” you mused with a loving smile, taking a deep breath. The pressure on your clit increased, and your breath quickened.

John immediately picked up on your behavior, you were close to your high. He inserted his middle and ring finger inside you, “fuck,” you groaned at the new feeling of his thick fingers.

“They’re all brainless idiots, can’t do a thing right,” he gritted his teeth, curling his fingers against your g-spot. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tried to come up with words to response, John expected it from you.

“Mhm, yeah, they’re-,” your sentence was cute off by a loud moan slipping from your lips as he bit onto your nipple.

He sucked harder, a desperate call for praise, “you’re right, they’re all brainless, but you, you’re the best of them. John, you’re smart, pretty and the greatest supe,” it rolled off your tongue naturally.

To you he was perfect, he could do no wrong and maybe you were sick in the head for thinking that.

“Make me come, please make mommy come,” you pleaded, grip still tight in his hair. Without hesitation John brought you to your orgasm, a pornographic moan fell from your mouth as you bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.

“You did so good, you’re perfect John,” you praised as your high rushed through your blood, god you felt amazing.

Homelander reeled in your praise, he needed it to function properly. While he enjoyed, loved, controlling you, telling you what to do and not to do, John worshipped the ground you walked on.

-----

Ahley organized the press along with fans to stand in front of your favourite lingerie shop, Homelander was for once wearing something casual – you forced him to.

“It looks better, trust me,” you told him with a pointed look, “you want them to love you, don’t you?” you added, knowing this would push him over the edge.

Now he wore dark jeans, sneakers and a matching polo shirt. He had a charming smile on his face as he escorted you into the store which was empty – expect for a cashier. Never before did you have the chance of shopping private like this, online shops were your best friend.

Your man looked around, already picturing you in some of the lingerie that catched his eye. “What do you think of this one?” you asked, showing him a blue piece, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just a baby blue lace set.

“It’s uhm, pretty,” boring, fucking boring, was what he wanted to say. You rolled your eyes playfully and continued looking around, until something unique came into your sight.

Quickly you took your size and vanished into the changing room, of course Homelander heard you and followed you curiously.

You put on the hot pink bra, the underside was see-through, and the top was decorated with flowers. The slip was the same, meaning most of your vagina was visible add to that it was connected with two strings on each side.

The accessory that made you pick it was the choker, it came with a chain that went down between your breasts and was attached to flower shaped belt which fitted your waist perfectly.

Homelander waited outside, impatiently looking around the room until you were ready. Then you opened the curtain, revealing yourself.

You smiled at him innocently, “how does this look?” you asked. He took a step towards you, hand tracing along the fabric and causing a shiver to run down your spine. Suddenly he hooked his point finger around the chain, slowly dragging you to him.

He leaned down, lips hovering over yours, “you’re playing a dangerous game little lady,” he whispered. You pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly close.

“I’m not playing any game,” you told him honestly, playing with the tiny hairs on his nape. “Don’t think just because they’re many, many people out there I won’t fuck you till you can’t walk anymore,” Homelander threatened, but was it really a threat if you would enjoy every second of it?

“Promise?” you smirked and within a second you were pressed against a wall. Homelander slid his hand down to your core, in your mind you already knew what was about to happen.

With that he snapped the pink panties in half, pushing his two fingers inside you, “look at that, little slut is already wet,” he taunted you.

Your head fell back as he curled his fingertips against your cervix, his unoccupied hand came up to lift your leg around his torso.

“Does that feel good mhm? Come on let me hear you, let them hear you,” he rubbed his thumb over your clit, finally drawing a moan from you. Homelander kissed you, hard, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

He showed his dominate side, hand leaving your side to undo your hand around his neck. Slowly moving it towards his belt, a silent order to open it which you follow without hesitation.

The trousers of his suit fell to the ground, Homelander hosted you up into his arms and entering you in one stroke, giving you no time to adjust to his size – as if he ever did.

You moaned, biting your lip in pleasure. For a moment he stilled inside you, his heavy breathing hitting your skin. Slowly he moved his hips upwards, you could feel him stretching your cunt, feel him hit that spongy spot inside you.

“Fuck, you’re fucking me so good, so good,” you groaned, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Homelander grinned at you, “yes, yes, tell me how good I’m. Fucking tell me and I will let you cream all over my fat cock.”

“You’re good, fucking amazing, baby. No one compares to you, you’re so good,” you chanted as he pounded into you at a ruthless pace.

Sometimes you wondered if your cervix could form bruises, but what you knew was that it could become difficult to walk out of this store.

A tight knot formed in your stomach, pleasure building up and you gripped Homelander’s hand, guiding it towards your clit.

“That’s right, I’m fucking you and you love it, you love me. Say it, come on,” he growled, letting go of your thigh and you closed your legs around his waist, sucking his cock deeper in. You need to feel more of him.

His hand came up to your throat as you didn’t answer, stilling inside of you, “I said, tell me you love me, or I will fill you until my seed is dripping down your legs and you can’t take it anymore, but you little lady, little slut won’t get to come.”

Tears welled in your eyes, you wouldn’t even mind it and he fucking knew it, but for your own sanity you had to answer him. Play into his game, because in your sick twisted mind you enjoyed it.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much,” you whimpered, clutching your hands on his shoulders, begging him to move.

“You do, don’t you? Want me to make you come, want me to fill you up?” he asked, though he knew the answer he, wanted to hear it from you.

“Mhm, yes, want you to make me come, please, please and fill me up, I want it so bad,” you begged, and he finally moved again, rocking his hips up. They you begged him brought him closer to his high, he loved having you at his mercy, doing everything he wanted.

A pornographic moan slipped from your lips as he rubbed over your clit and hit your g-spot. You reached your high, the knot exploding and smashed your lips onto Homelander’s to muffle another moan.

He barred his teeth, releasing his cum into your cunt and his pace slowed down. “Come, paint me baby,” you whispered into his ear.

----

“These please,” you grinned at the woman working the register, letting a pile of lingerie fall onto the counter. Every sort of color and shape, nervously the woman cashed you up, “a bag?” she asked to which you nodded.

“That will be 300,36 please,” she said, “cash or card?” she added, looking at you and not daring to spare Homelander a glance.

You held out your palm to your boyfriend who huffed before putting his card into your hand, “thank you,” you said and laid the card down, then stepping aside once it signaled, “pin, “ you told him and gestured to the machine.

Homelander put in the pin while the cashier packed everything up, handing it to you, “thank you very much,” you smiled.

Finally, she found the voice to ask Homelander for an autograph, “oh, sure everything for my fans! You guys are the real hero’s,” he showed her his pearly white teeth and signed her card.

“We could do this a lot more often, go shopping together, maybe have a little lunch date,” you trailed off, teasing him.

Outside there was a lightening of reporters and fans, all wanted pictures and asked questions. In Homelander style and because of Vought, he answered some of them, but he had to keep himself together.

"What is it like to have such a devoting boyfriend?"

"Anything else you do for your girlfriend?"

"How is you future looking? The two of you are a beautiful couple!"

"Thank you, thank you! The future is bright and what my girl wants she gets, there is truly nothing I won't give her," he smiled at them brightly. You posed for pictures, getting bolder with every flash.

Homelander wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side to whisper in your ear. "You better behave little lady, I will punish you until you can't walk a fuckinf millimetre."

"Promise?"

please reblog/comment and give feedback! I would love to know if you like my Homelander fics, I have so many ideas

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#homelander fic #homelander fanfiction #homelander x reader #homelander smut #homelander #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander fluff #homelander the boys

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cordeliawhohung · 7 days

Text

take this pornstar!gaz idea. it sounded better in my head, but oh well.

cw: alcohol, mostly fluff, a little angst, two idiots in love.

Kyle’s never seen you in public before.

Really, he hasn’t seen you anywhere that wasn’t either in your dressing room, or in the studio, so it feels like a dream when he catches you in the corner of his eye. Glitter captures the dim glow of the streetlamp like starlight on your eyelids as you giggle and sway on your feet. He’s never seen you dressed up, either; at least, not of your own accord instead of some stylists choosing. You’re absolutely radiant as you try to fight off the two girls on either side of you, both of who huff and puff at you as they try to drag you towards a running car parked just off the pavement.

“You’re fucking pissed,” one of them says. “No damn way you’re taking the bus home.”

Your response to her is muffled behind a whine and then another giggle as you paw at your eyes. Glitter stains your fingertips like dried blood, and you quickly wipe it off on the front of your shirt, spreading it along your body like a curse.

The night air grows heavy as Kyle adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Sweat still clings to his skin from a late night workout, but he ignores it as he allows his attention to wander. There’s a dewy glow to your skin — and not just from the glitter — that snitches to him that you’ve had more than enough to drink that night, as if the stumbling wasn’t enough. Despite your disheveled look, you’re still the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on.

Except he’s seemed to have kept his eyes on you for a bit too long, because one of the women you’re with glares at him as if he’s human filth. It’s a sharp glare, one that warns him she’s not really one to mess with. It has his teeth digging into his cheek, and his feet stumble under the heat of her gaze.

“The fuck’re you looking at?” she asks, voice dropping low.

Her biting tone has you looking at her with narrowed eyes before your head whips to the side with such force the rest of you nearly follows. Your eyes don’t quite reach his face, and you end up staring at his chest with squinted eyes for a solid few seconds. He’s sure the distance between you two — a good and safe couple of feet — doesn’t help either, but he stops in his tracks the moment you finally find his eyes.

“Kyle!” you coo.

His name sounds like a holy hymn on your tongue, and you slip out of the grasp of your friends in order to throw yourself at him. Catching you is easy. All it takes is his hands on your waist and your palms on his chest to steady you. Sour booze fills his nose, but he doesn’t even flinch at the burn. Your grin captivates him too much for him to do anything but smile.

“Hey, doll,” he greets, his suave aura hiding the fact his heart pounds in his chest so violently it almost hurts. “Havin’ a good night?”

“Well I was,” you groan. Your forehead presses against his chest, and Kyle is suddenly aware of the heat radiating off of his body. However, if you do smell the slight musk clinging to him after hitting the gym, you don’t mention anything. “They’re trying to get me into that stupid fucking uber and I just wanna walk home.”

“You are not walking home,” one of the girls — the one who had glared at him before — interrupts. “And I’m not walking halfway across the city with your drunk ass, either.”

“It’s not a great idea,” he concurs.

That only makes you groan again before leaning your entire body weight on him. You’re throwing a childish fit, yet he can’t help but chuckle as he wraps his arms around you in a light embrace to help keep you from falling face first into the pavement. Settling down, the two girls you’re with stop looking at Kyle as if he’s the devil himself, and more so just have an overall appearance of embarrassment for you.

“I hate it here,” you whine.

“How about this,” Kyle proposes, “you let your friends take the uber home, and I’ll walk you back to your place?”

“You’d do that for me?” you mumble into his chest.

“Anythin’ for you.”

Although you’re on board right away, it takes a little convincing to get your friends comfortable enough to have you walking home with an unfamiliar, sweaty man. They refuse to let you out of their sight until you admit to them that he’s technically your coworker (while also not so tactfully admitting he’s seen you naked and fucked you countless times and that you’d trust him with your life). After you promise to text them the moment you arrive home, your friends give you an awkward farewell before allowing Kyle to whisk you off into the night to lay down for a well deserved nap.

It’s about a block and a half in that Kyle realizes why your friends fought so hard to take an uber. Not only is your flat truly on the other side of the damn city, but keeping you upright on your feet should be a sport. He keeps an arm around your waist for the entire walk just to keep you steady, but it also has the added benefit of warding off any shady eyes. And there are a lot of shady eyes. Enough to be grateful that he was the one who ran into you tonight rather than anyone else.

By the time the two of you reach your apartment, you’ve hardly sobered up. Not that Kyle minds, of course. You’ve obviously had a fun night, and he rather enjoys your aimless rambling. It’s the most he’s heard you talk. Not even your fucked-out babbling on set gets you to talk that much.

“Alright,” Kyle says as you unlock the door, “you gonna be alright for the night?”

You throw him an odd side-eye as the door swings open. “Of course.”

That was supposed to be where he said farewell, and yet you grab his hand and yank him into your apartment like you’re dragging around a dog on a leash. He figures sticking around for a little longer to at least help you into bed might not be a bad idea, certainly not with how inebriated you are, and somehow he ends up in the bathroom with you.

Your legs swing carelessly as you sit on the counter, facing away from the mirror. You’ve roped Kyle into helping you take your makeup off, which so far has consisted of nothing but him holding your chin still and tilting your head as he fruitlessly wipes at the glitter on your face with a makeup wipe. There’s easier ways to get body glitter off of skin, but you rather enjoy the serious face of concentration that sets deep in his features as he gently scrubs at you.

“You’re cute,” you giggle.

“I’m cute?” he repeats.

You nod, which makes him huff and readjust his grip on your chin. “You’re concentrating so hard.”

“‘Course I am, gotta get this damn superglue off your face.”

Kyle continues to wipe at your face for only a few more minutes before he decides that’s as good as it’s going to get. With his hand in yours, you lead him into your bedroom where the remaining evidence of your preparation for the night litters the foot of your bed in rejected clothing and accessories. You gather them up into a big pile in your arms where you toss it on top of your dresser before raiding the drawers for pajamas to wear.

You don’t warn Kyle before you slip your shirt over your head. For some reason, it catches him off guard. He’s seen you naked countless times before; hell, he’s quite literally ripped clothes off of your body, yet this feels like a breach of privacy. You’re not in your right mind, still in a drunken stupor after a night out with the girls. It feels wrong, like he’s taking advantage of you, and instead of gawking at you like he normally does, he turns away.

It isn’t until you stand there in only your panties that you realize Kyle’s averted his gaze. A smirk pulls at your lips as you forget about changing and trot up to him, forcing his attention back on you. His eyes quickly wander, yet refuse to go any further than past your chest before they flicker back up to your face. Your small smirk quickly turns into a grin.

“What’re you acting shy for, Kyle?” you tease.

“Just givin’ you privacy, doll,” he defends.

“Privacy?” you repeat. A small laugh leaves you as your hands press against his chest, forcing him to stumble backwards towards your bed. “You look nervous.”

When the back of his legs hit the mattress, Kyle has no choice but to fall back. He sits on the edge of the bed with his hands propping his torso up, but you don’t allow him any breathing room before you’re straddling his hips. Perfume and alcohol fills his nose as you make yourself comfortable, and your eyes drink in his expression. You’ve never seen his eyes so dilated before, and you bask in the way they reflect the dim lighting of your bedroom.

“Do I make you nervous, Kyle?” you ask, voice soft and low.

The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he swallows, still unable to take his eyes off of you. Warm hands rest on your hips to keep you steady as you lean closer to him, lips ghosting against his earlobe as you continue to tease him.

“Don’t tell me you’re all bark and no bite. You always said you wanted to get me without the cameras, didn’t you? Fuck me properly? Well, now’s your chance.”

God, he wants to. It’s almost as if it’s part of his nature at this point; to please you. Your body has become his bread, the only sustenance he needs to keep himself going. As he stares up at you, he thinks of all the ways he could have you right there in that room that he can’t on set. The things he can say, admit; the sounds he could pull out of you for his ears and his ears only. He yearns for it so bad he feels it tearing him apart.

But as he notices the glazed look in your eyes, he knows he can’t do it. You can hardly sit in his lip without him holding you steady, lest you fall backwards onto the floor. Images of fucking you when you’re like that, far from sober, flood his mind, and he feels ill.

In order to get control of himself and his wandering mind, he quite literally turns the tables on you. Your vision blurs as you’re suddenly on your back, body resting on the comforter of your bed as Kyle sits back on his haunches between your legs. He taps your thigh before sliding away from you, and much to his surprise, you don’t even pout.

“I’m gettin’ you water, and then you’re going to bed, yeah?” he says, gaining control of the situation.

You stare up at him incredulously, hardly believing a word he says. Still, you agree with him as you shimmy up the bed where you rest your head on your pillows. The way you position your body, with your tits on display and a small smile on your lips, reminds him of the way you pose on set for the cameras. He wonders if you even know what it’s like to be fucked without having to perform anymore.

“Whatever you say, Kyle.”

When Kyle leaves your room, he wipes at his face with both of his hands and does his best to stifle a groan. It’s late, significantly later than he’s used to staying up, and his muscles ache from that evening’s workout. The mental jump rope he’s playing doesn’t help the fatigue in his body either. This is the most emotionally confused he’s been in quite a while, and he’s hoping he can just go home, take a cold shower, and forget about all of it come morning.

It takes him longer than normal to get you a glass of water. Adrenaline courses through his veins like boiling water, and he can hardly hear anything over the thumping of his heart in his ears, so he tries to take a moment to panic by himself in your kitchen. By the time he returns to you, you’re passed out. Eyes fluttered shut, chest lazily rising and falling with your breaths, Kyle finds himself stopping at the foot of your bed in awe.

He’s glad he stopped you.

After placing the glass on your nightstand, he folds your comforter over you as best as he can, covering your bare body. The light fabric moving across your skin stirs you awake, and your eyes flutter open just long enough to grab his hand. His heart stops as you attempt to pull him closer, and he finds himself kneeling next to your bed, utterly lured.

“Are you staying?” you ask, not even bothering to open your eyes.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles as he shakes his head. “Sorry, doll. Not tonight.”

“Oh,” is all you can say.

You fall silent again, and he stays kneeling next to you for a moment as he enjoys the feeling of your hand in his. Once he thinks you’ve fallen asleep again, he presses his lips against the back of your hand before returning it onto the mattress. Your lips curl at the sensation.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Those words have been in the back of your throat ever since the two of you filmed the honeymoon shoot together, and it has Kyle stopping in his tracks. He wants to stay. Everything in him screams at him to. To crawl into bed with you, to wrap you in his arms and comfort you in the morning when your hangover gets the best of you. But he can’t. He can’t even tell if this is what you truly want, or if it’s the alcohol talking.

He swallows.

“Love you too, doll.”

When Kyle turns to leave, he tries not to look back. He knows it’ll destroy him if he does. Instead, he keeps a steady pace as he exits your apartment, leaving you to wake up in the morning with nothing but cold sheets and a migraine.

#gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #pornstar!gaz #f!reader

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purple-babygirl · 3 months

Text

don't call me daddy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 4,826

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: Bucky is mean, a couple of insults, mistreatment of age regressed reader, crying, mentions of hot liquid getting on skin, crying, mentions of the r-word and the s-word, Bucky's PTSD & nightmares

A/N: so this is an idea I've had for forever and I finally mustered up enough courage to share it with you guys. Please enjoy and let me know what you think and if you have anything you'd like to suggest for the upcoming parts. I love you 💜

“This sounds stupid,” Bucky grumbled when Sam suggested the program.

“It's not stupid, Buck and it works!”

“If it worked for you doesn't mean it's gonna work for me, Sam. You have patience and it's in your nature to want to take care of people.”

“Says the one who looked out for Steve all his life!”

“Steve was one person and he was actually dumb, he wasn’t acting like he can't fucking feed himself!”

“They're not acting. They're age regressed.” Sam tried to remain calm.

“What does that even mean!”

“It means—”

“You know what? I don't care because I'm not doing it.” Bucky smiled before leaving Sam's house and going back to hide in his own.

But Sam was persistent. He was determined to get Bucky help that would actually help. So he suggested the program to Bucky's therapist and before Bucky could punch him, she was having him sign the contract.

“Sam, I don't wanna meet anyone. It's not gonna work anyway so let's just pick any of them.”

“They're not service dogs, Bucky!”

“Really? Because that's exactly what it sounds like they are to me.”

Sam glared at him, elbowing his side as a short lady with a kind smile approached them.

Bucky didn't pay her much attention. He didn't want to be here and he didn't care what she was reciting.

Only thing that caught his attention was when she asked him what age he would prefer so she could introduce him to a group of littles.

He was dreading this. It was stupid.

“…what are you looking for?” Bucky caught the end of her talk with Sam.

“I don't know, someone who can talk like they're not retarded,” he answered the lady rudely and she smiled in understanding when Sam apologized.

“They're not retarded. All of them are perfectly healthy and okay. They're age regressed,” she told Bucky and he rolled his eyes so hard he felt they might never return from the back of his head.

He hated those two words. Age regressed, what the fuck did that even mean?

“Maybe we can meet some of the littles who are not so young, like 6 year olds?” Sam suggested and she nodded, leading them to a building with long corridors and lots of doors.

Bucky could see adult women and men playing with dolls, sleeping with pacifiers and some of them even had other people feeding them.

What the hell was this place? Did they expect him to do that? With a person perfectly capable of handling his or her own self but chooses not to?! Was this the 21st century? Because he didn’t like it very much.

The lady led them inside her office and got a group of files out of some organized drawer. She'd barely laid them out on the table before Bucky was slamming his finger on one.

“We'll take this one,” he said, staring at the lady in disinterest.

“But you haven't even seen them,” Sam said between his teeth, kicking his leg under the table. He wished Bucky cared enough to do this right.

“I've seen enough. I pick this file and I wanna leave,” Bucky seethed back.

“This is Doll. She's one of the softest littles I've ever met and I think you've made a great choice, Mr. Barnes.”

“You call her Doll?”

“Yes, real names aren't revealed for the privacy of our littles unless they decide otherwise and she chose the name herself when she joined us.” The lady smiled kindly, making Bucky even madder.

“Whatever, let's get this over with. Tell her to come so we could leave.”

“Mr. Barnes, I have to admit your attitude towards this is very concerning and I fear I cannot risk the peace of our littles who confide in us to find them safe partners! Like I said she's one of the gentlest and I need to know you're going to treat her right before I even let you meet her!” The woman voiced her concerns and Bucky sighed.

He couldn't blow this now. He's come far enough with this whole process and if he went back to his therapist like that she was definitely going to get out her dreadful notebook.

He had to take this girl home tonight or else they would make him go through this same process over and over again.

“I'm sorry. I'm just a little confused, I guess.” Bucky scratched his beard.

“That's okay.” She smiled again, “most of our visitors are, but you can always ask.”

“Well— what is wrong with them?!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands in the air.

Sam kicked him again and glared.

“What? She said I could ask!”

“It's okay,” she told Sam with a chuckle.

“Nothing is wrong with them. Them regressing in age is their way to cope and relieve anxiety or deal with other mental illnesses such as traumatic experiences, or even just stress. It's a freer, calmer state of mind for them to return to when it's no longer easy for them to be big.”

Her calm, kind manner while explaining this made Bucky even angrier inside. This wasn’t normal and they should all stop acting like it was.

“So they're supposed to be helping me with my issues but they're dealing with their own issues?”

Like he originally thought, this was stupid.

“Yes, it's a mutual helping program.” The lady confirmed.

“Oh. And what's this Doll's issue?”

“Doll reverts to age regression as a coping mechanism for her depression and PTSD. She's been doing great lately actually!”

“Is she suddenly gonna go grownup or?” Bucky continued, involuntarily asking every question on his mind.

“No, like I said, Doll reverts to little space for the comfort and safety of it and while she can coax herself out of her headspace, she rarely ever chooses to.”

“But she can?”

“Yes. But I need to tell you, Mr. Barnes, that this is not why you're here.” She reminded, wanting to ensure the safety of self expression for the little one.

“I know.”

“I also need you to promise me to be a good caregiver for her. She's a sweet girl and I can guarantee she will be good for you.”

“I promise.” Bucky knew he was lying but he couldn’t care less about his honesty at the moment.

“And it’s never acceptable to make fun of her or try to force her into a more grownup headspace. That only makes it worse and her mind regresses further.”

“So what she becomes younger?!” He was trying so hard not to get frustrated, why make him!

“That's correct.” She nodded.

“How young?” Sam asked.

“The youngest she's ever been is 4.”

“Oh.” Great. Just great.

“She can still talk just fine,” she reassured them, knowing Bucky didn't want anyone who couldn't talk or seemed 'retarded'.

“Okay, good.” Bucky nodded, wanting to get out of the place as soon as possible.

“Would you like to meet Doll now or do you wanna take a look at the rest of the files?”

“I'll meet her.” Bucky stood up, hand already at the doorknob.

The meeting thing went relatively well and Bucky was surprised the girl wasn't intimidated by his frown or intense stare. She was mesmerized by the metal arm even.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he still thought this whole thing was dumb but he needed to convince his therapist and everyone that he was okay again so they'd leave him alone.

She didn’t ask him any questions or have any conditions. She just stared at him with wide, sparkly eyes.

A minute later he heard the girl whisper her agreement to the short lady.

Apparently, she was big enough to make the decision to leave with a strange man she didn't know but not enough to properly dress herself or sleep without a damn toy.

Bucky was relieved anyway; glad she was idiotic enough to choose him so he wouldn't have to meet with any other 'littles'. And she wasn't ugly to look at either.

The old lady had a word with her privately before she was packing a bag and they were on their way to Bucky’s place.

“Where do I stay, daddy?”

Bucky hasn’t said a word to her since they’d left the institution. He made her carry her bag from the car to the elevator and from the elevator inside the apartment. He wasn’t going to be nobody’s maid.

She was physically capable and that didn’t need a professional to see it.

“I don’t know, figure it out.” Bucky shrugged, kicking his shoes off by the door and stepping inside.

She followed his lead and neatly placed her shoes at the corner by the door as well.

“Where do you want me to stay, daddy?” she asked politely, wanting to make him comfortable, seeing he was the owner of the house.

He was making her a little nervous.

This wasn’t his energy back at the institution and she tried her best not to get scared.

“I don't want you. I never did,” Bucky told her the minute she sat on his couch, throwing his keys on the wooden coffee table, “We're just gonna pretend your presence here is changing something and then I'm gonna return you.”

I don't want you.

She's definitely heard that before.

Return her. Like she was some sort of item. She wasn't what he wanted and it cracked her trained-to-love heart.

“Yes, daddy,” she replied brokenly, tears threatening to spill over the rims of her eyes.

Nothing was worse than feeling unwanted.

“Don't call me that.” Bucky snapped.

“B— But you're my daddy.” She was seriously confused now. Why would he pick her if he didn’t want this?

“I'm not your anything and stop acting so small, you look grown up enough to me.”

Why did he take her home if he didn’t like her and didn’t want to be her Daddy?

“I'm not acting.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she felt more insecure than ever.

“Yeah, yeah, you're age regressed. Whatever, just don't call me that. I'm no one's daddy.” Bucky took his shirt off throwing it on the couch beside her, making her flinch.

“But what should I call you if not—”

“Call me Mr. Barnes, if you're so keen on being polite.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She sniffled.

“And stop crying.” He huffed.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She quickly wiped at her face, holding the rest of her tears inside and forcing the lump in her throat further down.

Bucky muttered something under his breath before snatching his shirt and leaving to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as she flinched again.

He didn't say she was a good girl for calling him what he wanted, or for stopping her crying when she was told to. He didn't like her and he wanted to return her.

What was she supposed to do until he sent her back? He didn't want her help even if they said he needed it.

Was it going to be like this for the next 3 months? How was she going to do all of the grown up stuff if Daddy Mr. Barnes didn't help her? How was she going to live? And why did she still care to try her best to be good for the harsh, blue-eyed man?

She didn’t know what to do so she sloppily changed her clothes by herself, putting her socks in the hamper to be washed like a good girl.

She washed her hands and feet by herself, unknowingly making Bucky think he was right all along about letting her do things on her own as she should.

That was until he put a hot cup of instant noodles before her for dinner though. He refused to help her eat and she accidentally spilled hot soup over her hand and the wooden table. It was chaos.

Bucky cursed out loud and she started crying in pain.

He had enough pity on her to drag her to the bathroom and put her hand under the cold water. If his hold on her arm hurt, she didn’t say anything.

“Keep it there, don’t you dare move.”

“Mr. Barnes, don’t leave,” she sniffled, eyes red and in pain.

“I’m not leaving you in the Sahara desert.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “I gotta go clean the mess you made.” He left her in the bathroom and she kept her hand under the water, not daring to move like she was told.

“How hard is it to eat fucking noodles! It’s not quantum physics!” Bucky muttered angrily as he wiped the soup off the table with a cloth.

“Fuck that age regression shit I am done!” He took their noodle cups to the kitchen and dumped both in the bin.

“What are you still doing in there! It’s not like you got burnt by lava!” Bucky shouted to her, walking to the bathroom.

“I— I— Mr. Barnes, you told me not to move.” She began crying again at his angry demeanor.

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky groaned, “do you ever stop crying?!”

“I’m s-sorry.” She hiccupped. She didn’t know what to say or how to please him she just wanted him to stop glaring at her. She was scared.

“Get out of there and dry your hands,” Bucky told her, sitting on the couch with a sigh.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Came her chocked whisper.

“Does it hurt?” Bucky asked when she came out of the bathroom, tears drying on her cheeks.

The question surprised her. Maybe he did care after all.

“Burns a little,” she told him, pointing to the back of her hand where the skin got burnt.

“I might have a cream here somewhere,” he said, trying his best to keep an unconcerned expression on.

She took a look around when Bucky stood up to look in the kitchen. It was a cozy place and she wasn’t too needy but she couldn’t help but wonder about where she was going to sleep.

There didn’t seem to be enough furniture in here.

“Try not to touch it and you should be fine in the morning,” Bucky instructed after applying the burns cream to the sensitive area of skin.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She whispered before absentmindedly pecking Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky’s eyes widened at her guts. He certainly didn’t see that coming. It was her first night here how was she so bold!

His breath stuttered out of his lungs but he quickly recomposed himself.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he gave her a dark stare.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“N— No.” She quickly shook her head.

“Did I give you permission to do that?”

“No.” She shook her head again, sort of knowing where this was going. She was going to get punished.

“Then why’d you do it?” Bucky sneered through his teeth.

“To th— thank Mr. Barnes.” He made her so nervous she could barely hear herself answer him.

Bucky hated her. She had no sense of boundaries. He hated the way she cried all the time. He hated the way she referred to him in third person.

He hated her.

“You already said that, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Don’t do it again.” Was all Bucky said and she was relieved.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky scoffed and stood up to put the cream back where he found it.

Turned out, Bucky had no bed. He slept on the floor and he didn’t need one.

“But where do I sleep, Mr. Barnes?” She asked in a small voice.

“Anywhere that is not next to me,” Bucky replied, not even sparing her a glance.

“Can I sleep here?” she asked, patting the couch.

“Suit yourself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She gave a shy smile.

“I didn’t make the damn couch. Just go to sleep.”

“Bad word again,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” She slammed a hand on her mouth.

“Repeat what you just said if you know what’s good for you.” Bucky glared.

“I— Mr. Barnes said a bad word,” she whispered shakily.

“Yeah, well, it’s my house! I’ll talk however I want!” Bucky raised his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She nodded, not even thinking about arguing that he shouldn’t curse in front of a little.

“Go to sleep.”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She quickly plopped on the couch, covering herself with a blanket, and burying her face in a cushion.

Bucky almost chuckled; almost thought it was cute but he shook the smile off his face quickly and sighed, taking his shirt off and getting himself on the hard floor, easily falling asleep.

He always falls asleep so fast because nightmares usually wake him up few hours after; he be waiting for bed time all day.

She peeked from under the blanket when she heard Bucky snore, carefully tiptoeing to her bag to get her stuffie. She took one look at shirtless Bucky, her cheeks heating up, before sliding back under the covers on the couch.

Her Daddy that didn’t like to be called Daddy was beautiful.

It has started again. He’s chasing a person, he corners them to where they could not run anymore, his left hand wraps around their throat, they struggle and beg and then snap. He kills them.

Bucky startled awake, having a hard time taking his breath only to find her on the floor next to him.

Her eyes were full of worry and maybe even sympathy as she clutched a stuffed animal. Bucky didn’t like it.

“It’s okay, Daddy— Mr. Barnes. ‘T was just a bad dream.” She whispered, dropping her stuffie to wrap her short arms around Bucky.

He wouldn’t admit it but it felt nice to be held. Something inside him wanted to succumb to the gentleness of her gesture. But Bucky shut that down at once.

“Get off,” Bucky huffed tiredly as the girl clung to him and rubbed his sweaty back.

“But—”

“Get. Off.” He repeated, grinding his teeth and she reluctantly slipped off his lap and went back to her spot on the floor.

She stared at him as he panted and frowned for a second before leaving the room.

Bucky scoffed, rubbing a hand down his hot face. She probably went to cry in the bathroom again; such a crybaby.

Except she didn’t.

She returned with a relatively cool glass of water, only half full. She didn't want to be bad and spill.

“I got you water, Mr. Barnes.” She carefully got on her knees and offered him the cup.

“Stop saying my name so much.” Bucky snatched the cup out of her hand, gulping down the water without showing an ounce of gratitude.

She pouted, crawling to her bag to get him tissues because she didn’t see any around.

“So you do know how to act around liquids after all.” Bucky taunted, still not over the fact that she spilled soup over his table before taking the tissues from her to wipe his forehead.

“Do you want me to sing you a lullaby, Mr. Barnes? It helps me after bad dreams.” She suggested, desperately hoping he would let her help.

“Not all of us act like kids to flee our nightmares.”

“Mr. Barnes.” Her eyes filled with tears and it was the last thing Bucky wanted to deal with, “I’m not acting.”

She was hurt but he didn’t care. He said what he said.

“Get back on the couch, I wanna go to sleep.” Bucky dismissed, pushing the empty glass against the wall.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” She whispered dejectedly, taking her friend and crawling back to the couch.

The same thing happened every night for another four nights. At this point she was really worried about the man she started singing lullabies anyway, not waiting for his permission.

“Hey, you!”

“Doll,” she corrected.

“Whatever! Shut up already. I told you I don’t need your stupid singing.” Bucky growled into his pillow.

He was lying. He hated admitting it but he was. Her voice was actually angelic. He never went back to sleep again after a nightmare but that changed when she ignored his wishes and started singing. Bucky could drift off again to her soft voice.

He could get more hours of nightmareless sleep because of her lullabies. But he was too stubborn to admit anything that came from her was working for him.

It must be a coincidence. He probably fell asleep again because he was exhausted from being mad at her all day.

“I know Mr. Barnes doesn’t need it. It’s for me.” She lied as well. She knew lying wasn’t good girl like but she was helping Mr. Barnes; it was for good reason.

“Mr. Barnes,” her small voice called to him but Bucky was ignoring her.

He was pretending he couldn’t hear her and continued staring at the TV because she talked too much for his liking.

“Mr. Barnes.” She ever so lightly touched Bucky’s arm.

“What!” he spit suddenly, making her jump.

“We— We need to go shopping. Mrs. Morrison will visit tomorrow.”

She knew the process and for some reason didn’t want to be taken away from Bucky.

If Mrs. Morrison came and saw the way the apartment was or the way Bucky treated Doll, she was definitely going to make her leave with her.

“What?!”

“It’s day five.” She reminded, tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah, so?” Bucky’s body fully turned to face her.

“Tomorrow’s visit day. We have to go shopping.”

“How do I know you’re not lying just to get me to buy you things?”

“I don’t lie, Mr. Barnes.” She assured him, looking hurt at even the suggestion.

“It’s in the papers,” she told him, referring to the contract he’s signed as well as the guide he was provided with her file before leaving the institution.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, but stood up to look at the papers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer in the kitchen a few days ago.

“Shit,” he muttered when he saw she wasn’t lying. He heard her whisper bad word but chose to ignore it.

There were scheduled visits listed with different time intervals between each visit for the next three months.

Bucky groaned, throwing the paper sheet back in the drawer and slamming it shut.

“Put your clothes on, we’re going fucking shopping.”

“Bad word.”

“Don’t even—” she ran to the bathroom to change before Bucky could get angrier.

What has Sam gotten him into?

“Why’s your hair so messy!” Bucky asked, shoving her out of his way to grab a jar of peanut butter and put in the cart.

“I don’t know how to do it on my own an’ Mr. Barnes kept telling me to hurry up.”

Her voice was so small and if Bucky wasn’t so infuriated by the situation he would’ve felt bad for how he spoke to her.

“You’d think you’d actually look decent enough after taking forever to get ready.” Bucky huffed.

She remained silent, looking down and closing in on herself.

“Do you eat this?” Bucky asked, waving a box of corn flakes in front of her.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky nodded, throwing the box in the cart.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop saying my name so much?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barn—” Bucky’s cold stare stopped the word on her tongue.

“Call me Bucky.”

He didn’t want her to call him Bucky. But if that Mrs. Morrison was visiting tomorrow she couldn’t know he made her speak to him formally.

“Bucky?”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, Bucky.” She smiled shyly, feeling one step closer to the man.

Bucky didn’t know his life would turn upside down so fast.

He never cared about grocery shopping because he didn’t need that much stuff and he mostly ate at restaurants or diners or bought take out. He mainly just had beer filling his fridge.

But with her tied to him now he was buying all kinds of food: fresh vegetables and fruits, juice boxes, snack bars and way too many Oreos. Not to mention the toiletries he had to pay for because aside from her tooth and hair brushes, she came with nothing.

“Bucky, can we please get this?” she asked, pointing to a stuffed white wolf.

“No, you already have one at home. I see it every night.”

“Please, Bucky, please. Pretty please,” she begged, giving puppy eyes and pressing her palms together even.

“Okay, fine, shut up. God!” Bucky grumpily put the toy in the cart and got them to the nearest cashier before she could pick anything else.

She was so happy and was going to cherish her new stuffie more than ever.

Bucky was pacing back and forth in the living room. He needed to find a way to convince her not to tell Mrs. Morrison or whatever her name was how he treated her.

He didn’t want her to know she had any type of power over him because of the situation.

Bucky definitely wasn’t going to say please, but he also knew he couldn’t scare her into saying what he wanted.

“Bucky, please go to bed. Wolfie can’t sleep.” She whined, hugging her newest stuffie to her heart.

Bucky gave her yet another hard glare. She made him so angry that sometimes he forgot how to function. She was so spoiled and oblivious.

“I won’t say anything to Mrs. Morrison,” she whispered.

“You think I care what you have to say?! They could take you right now for all I care!” Bucky replied angrily.

“I know…” she mumbled, “I don’t want them to.”

Her words left Bucky without a reply. He was confused. She didn’t want to leave? Why not? Bucky hasn’t said one kind word to her since she’s been entrusted to him.

Was she some type of masochist?

“I wanna stay with Bucky. Sing him lullabies and eat noodles with him,” she said, her voice soft and heavy with sleep, before her eyes shut as she drifted off.

Her words put Bucky at ease for now and he got on the floor to finally try to get some sleep. He tried to ignore the way they affected him though.

“Bucky,” she called gently.

“Hmm.”

“I need to shower,” came her timid whisper.

“Do you see me using the bathroom?! Help yourself.” Bucky huffed, stirring the sugar in his mug.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?!” he snapped, throwing the spoon in the sink.

“I need Bucky’s help.” Her face was on fire with embarrassment of having to say this out loud.

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky rolled his eyes, pushing his mug aside before grabbing her arm and pushing her to the bathroom.

She whimpered as they stood before the glass door of the shower.

“This, because you’re not stupid you’re just age regressed, opens the hot water.” Bucky pointed to the tap handle on the right. “This opens the cold water. And this—”

“Bucky, that’s not what I need help with.” She shook her head, biting down on her lip.

“What do you want from me then?!” Bucky had no patience and her bashfulness wasn’t helping.

She raised her arms up before whispering, “I need Bucky to gimme a shower.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Bad word.”

“Don’t start now! You don’t know how to shower?!”

She shook her head, pouting as her eyes got teary again, “not when little.”

“This is bullshit. I didn’t even wanna do this. Damn you, Sam Wilson!” Bucky said, walking out of the bathroom angrily as she trailed behind him like the lost puppy she was.

“Bad word.”

“Stop!” Bucky boomed and she put her hands behind her back timidly.

“Please, Bucky,” she begged, getting hold of his hand.

“No! On my dead body!”

“Stand straight or I swear I’m gonna leave you here and go!”

“Yes, Bucky,” she giggled, the water trickling down her spine tickling her.

“Now what?” He huffed, trying not to stare at her naked chest.

“Now, this.” She held up the bottle of conditioner for him and Bucky sighed before taking it and squeezing some on his hand.

He was about to smooth it down her scalp when she moved away.

“No, no! This goes on the ends or else it gives you dandruff,” She said and Bucky would’ve facepalmed so hard if it wasn’t for the slippery matter covering his palms.

This was going to be long.

She was fast asleep on Bucky’s couch after her shower, so peaceful and without a care in the world.

Bucky envied her as he got in place on the floor. He really wished he had enough flexibility in him to accept help and care from someone.

But no, he didn't need her. He didn't need any of this. He just had to go through tomorrow and the rest will figure itself out.

Yeah, yeah just tomorrow for now, Bucky thought as he drifted off.

part II

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heyhihellosworld · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 "𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭"

Lewis Hamilton x reader

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: Working on opposite teams but you have certain things in common

Warnings: Red bull, mentions of rb being sexist (made up things + some real things because let’s not sweep the reality under the rug), smut (very soft), fluff, angst. !Remember this is all fiction, I can’t speak on the whole team, this is a story!

Notes: I don’t really know what this is to be honest because it’s really random

Working in formula 1 was your dream since you were a kid. Your whole family was really into the sport and you had always been extremely interested in both motorsports and cars so naturally you had studied mechanics and engineering. The dream was to work in formula 1 so when you got accepted into the Red bull team the whole family had been ecstatic, you had reached the goal.

But things weren't as amazing as you'd wish. Red bull had never been your favorite team but you didn't think it would be like it was behind the scenes. You were well aware of the gender discrimination in the sport, the amount of women in the teams were scarse and the ones who were there was met with a strong sexism. You were ready for that to come from the outside but you weren't expecting it to come from your own team.

It was not something that was usually shouted in your face but it was these subtle things, things they did that you weren't even sure they recognized but it drove you crazy. You didn't feel trusted and the comments that were dropped were just hindsight sexist. You tried your absolute best because the work in itself was what you loved, what you wanted to do but it was hard when it felt like everybody looked down on you because of something so simple as your gender. You had enough education, even more than most of the men that worked close to you but that didn't seem to matter, you were still looked down at.

It didn't make it better that you were good friends with most of the drivers, the rumors only speeding on the sexism both from your team but also from the outside.

"What got you in such a mood?" Lewis chuckled at you, swinging his arm over your shoulder comfortingly as you stalked down the road.

"Take a guess" you muttered, still fuming from the previous interaction with your closest co-workers. Lewis sighed, nodding his head in understanding as his look transformed to one of consideration and sympathy.

"What was it this time?"

You stomped your feet to the ground, feeling extremely annoyed as you huffed. "I was doing my job, like always and then these fuckheads just took over, finishing MY WORK and guess what, they got all the credit for the amazing work I did, I DID!" you exclaimed in frustration feeling like putting your fist through a wall.

"I can't stand it anymore, it's all the fucking time and I never get to do my work!"

Lewis hummed, pulling you into his chest to try to calm your shaking anger. "I get it, I do" he tried but it didn't calm your anger at all. "You are really good at what you do y/n, don't let these jackasses tell you otherwise"

"I know I am good at my work! It just pisses me off that they see me as less talented or less trust-able when I am darn much better than them"

Lewis chuckled, pulling you into his side as he started to lead you along the paddock, one arm resting over your shoulders. "Always so humble"

Your eyelids hooded as you grumbled at him "I am, I just know that I know best at my tasks" Lewis nodded, not saying anything as he saw a certain Frenchman approaching you.

"Ah how are you doing miss 'I know right'" Pierre joked, his smile immediately dropping as he received your murderer glare, Lewis having to bite his lip to not burst out laughing. "Not the right time mate"

"I hate that name and fuck you" you spat at the Frenchman, his smile slowly returning at your annoyed demeanor. "What, I love that name, It suits you so well you know, you always tell us we're stupid and that you know better"

He didn't budge, laughing as he gave you a kiss on the cheek "I'm only messing with you, why are you so tense? Hasn't Lewis helped you get rid of the tension today?"

"Pierre fuck off!"

You had to stop yourself from punching him in the face as he laughed at his own joke "That was one time and if you don't let it go I will kill you, mark my words" you threatened but he didn't seem very offended or scared.

"I will never let that go y/n, you can't expect me to ever do that, not when I walk into my high regarded friend fucking the seventh time world-champion"

You groaned out lod, chuckling out your annoyance in a whine "Lewis please get rid of him"

The seventh time world-champion didn't follow your request, instead he laughed and prompted you to sit down on one of the benches along the paddock "Just sit here and I will get you something to eat" he chuckled, kissing your temple before leaving you with Pierre.

"Okay okay, don't kill me now I was only joking with you but seriously, what's up?"

You sighed, meeting his soft look "I'm sorry for being mean I just had a horrible day at work"

"Ah, how unusual" he spoke sarcastically, shaking his head at you. "I don't understad why you are still at that place y/n, it's shitty"

You sighed with a groan "I knooow! But it is still my dream work just at the worst possible place"

"Then switch, I'm sure any team would want your talent!"

"I've tried Pierre but Horner dosen't approve of it"

His face was one of confusion as he opened his mouth but he didn't have time to speak until Charles interrupted him, sitting down on the bench with a wide smile "Ah y/n, how are you?"

"All fine" you sighed, Pierre looking at you with a chuckle "Bad day at work" he explained to Charles who hummed in understanding "Aha, of course"

"Explain to me what you said before" Pierre asked, your head face-planting into the wood with a whine

"He wants to keep me because of my education and references who tells me that I am the best qualified for the work and if he fired me or whatever he would get called out for being sexist, plus he loves the praise he gets because he has diversity but still I cant do my fucking job!"

Lewis came back with a tray of food looking scoldingly at Pierre for not having changed the subject yet.

"Apply to other jobs y/n, even if it is less salary it'd be worth it and you have the right to quit, regardless of what Horner says."

"I will I will" you sighed, pouting at Lewis who put the food down in front of you smiling as you looked up at him "thank you"

He chuckled, kissing your temple as he sat down next to you as you offered some of your food to Charles as Pierre was already taking parts of your fries.

Lewis looked at you as you devoured your food with a soft smile. You had known the Brit for years now having met him in your study years when you had been at the Mercedes hq for a tour with your class. He had already then admired your determination to punch your way to the top and he hadn’t been surprised when red bull had hired you. In his eyes you were a rare breed and he loved your confidence and fire that made it so clear and obvious for you to be where you wanted to be. He loved you in every way and he didn’t even try to hide it.

It was already late, the day moved in faster than it should concidering all the paperwork you had left. Apparently that was the only thing you could do without any help. You were sat in one of the offices in the motor-home, finishing up for the evening.

"Why are you still here?"

You recognised the voice before looking at him, the big boss. You did your best to keep cool, shrugging your shoulders as you stood up. "I'm just finishing up"

Christian nodded, giving you a tight lipped smile as he watched you gather your stuff. "Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you shortly"

You huffed but answered politely "yeah sure”

"What have I done this time?" you sarcastically voiced as you took the seat he pointed you to.

"What is this y/n?" Horner asked with a pointed tone, one that made you annoyed without even knowing what it meant

"What?"

"This" he sighed, showing you his phone where a clear picture from a magazine showed you and Lewis on the bench, it was taken in the moment he kissed your temple after he'd gotten you food. It was a cute photo, both of you smiling at eachother.

"Uh, it's me?"

Horner sighed, annoyed over your bratty tone as you talked back. "Drop the tone y/n, i mean why are you hanging out with Lewis and more importantly why is he kissing you? It looks very bad on us if you are fraternizing with the drivers and especially with our enemy"

You sighed, looking at him monotony "He is my friend, what is wrong with that?"

"The wrong with that is that it looks like you are sleeping with him!"

His words took you aback "What? Just because I am with him you think that I'm sleeping with him?"

"It's what everybody thinks y/n! Stop hanging out with him or we will have a problem"

You shook your head "I won't say up our friendship just because your sexist brain"

"Y/n, watch your language"

"No you know what fuck you Horner, literally. I have come into this work with a better degree and better experience than any other of the people in my team, yet I can't do a single thing because nobody believes a woman can do shit in this team! Don't think I don't hear all the comments, and what about all the shit you say huh? Does those things include me, yeah of course they do because i'm only here because I want to fuck the drivers, sorry I forgot" you voiced sarcastically, letting all the pent up annoyance and frustration boil over as you stood up at the table, hating how he loomed over you when you sat down.

Christian didn't say anything as you took the few steps to the door. When your hand touched the handle you turned around with an sarcastic smile "Oh, I quit"

With that you left, slamming his door behind you as you stormed out of the motor-home with your computer under your arm.

Lewis furrowed his eyebrows as you walked along the dark streets in the paddock. Most of the people had already gone home, the clock ticking long over nine so to see you there surprised him.

"Hey y/n!" he shouted after you making you stop and turn around to locate the one searching for you. Your stressed face relaxed as you saw the Brit, jogging to catch up with you. "Hey Lew" you smiled, kissing his cheek as he smiled brightly, walking with you towards the parking lot.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked curiously, watching your shoulders shrug and face twist. "Well, Christian called me in for a one to one meeting"

"Ah and how did that go?" he chuckled sensing your body language

"Shit" you grunted, his smile warming your body. "What did he want?"

"Well he called me out for hanging out with the drivers and dug up some picture of us, telling me it looked bad for him and the team if I was around a lot of drivers and especially if I was fraternizing with the enemy" you sarcastically tilled, faking his impression to Lewis amusement.

"So, I quit" you added not daring to look at his face, scared to be met with the expression that you had been wrong.

"You did!?" Lewis asked, looking at you with a bright smile "Yeah" you tilled timidly, finally daring to look him in the eyes.

"Why do you look so scared?" he chuckled, giving you a hug from the side. “Because I don’t know if what I did was stupid”

Lewis shook his head confidently “no it’s not stupid at all”

You shook your head, feeling anxiety rippling through your body “Lewis, I just quit my job, I don’t have anything else available right now and I just quit what may have been my only chance to the job I want and dreamt of my whole life”

Lewis sighed, stopping you from walking any further “y/n, you’re gonna have more chances to this kind of job and don’t worry about quitting. I know you have enough savings for months and if that has changed I will help you. All I know is that it’s the best thing you could've possibly done”

You blinked up at him timidly “you really think so?”

His smile warmed your body as he nodded “you always say you know best but I think this is the only time I can completely agree with you”

You let the smile crawl over your face as you giggled “I don’t always say that!”

Lewis laughed with you “you kinda do”

You smiled at him as you stopped in front of your car, unsure of what to do or say. Nobody could make you so nervous and insecure as Lewis could. Not because he said anything mean or did anything but because you wanted to impress him all the time. You didn’t want to show any insecurities but therefore you became a mess every time he looked at you with his angelic eyes. He could make you squirm with one look but that was also what you liked about him.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Your words were quite and didn’t sound as good as you wished but Lewis didn’t seem to mind as he smiles “sure”

Lewis made sure you didn’t dwell on the work situation for the night. Helping you pack up the groceries you bought and making you loose your facade to order take-away. He talked you up and pulled some jokes, all to keep you away from the thoughts he knew you would drown in if you were alone

Your relationship with the man was very unclear. None of you really talked about it nor thought about it to much. It was what it was and it worked for the moment. Lewis loved you and everybody knew that. The seven time world-champion making it pretty obvious with the hearts eyes he always seemed to have whenever he looked at you. You loved Lewis too but you didn’t wanna label it. At least not for now. You had worked so hard to come into the business and you wanted to be secure and confident there before moving forward with him.

But you still spent more time with him than without him, spent almost every night wrapped up in his sheets but nothing was yet official and it didn’t have to be. Both of you content for the moment but you knew that soon enough you wanted some type of commitment and you knew he wanted it too, soon

“What do you think I should do?”

You popped the question that was etched in your mind. Having to air it for some kind of peace.

Lewis hummed in your ear. Your body laid on his. Head on his chest as you watched some lazy tv.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

You groaned, tilting your head to look at him “no, what do you think I should do?”

“I think you should announce interest in other jobs and if you want to pursue your dreams and work in f1 you should go around and talk to the other stables. Look around and just announce your interest and soon enough you will get something and if not immediately you either take a break or you find something in between” he resonated lowly with a calm tone. Making you feel like there was no problem or drama.

“What if I never get another job like this” you mumbled in his neck. His hand caressing your back comfortingly.

“Then it was never meant to be. Would you rather stay there and never feel valued than find a job that makes you happy and make you feel valued?"

“I guess you’re right” you sighed into his soft skin.

He gazed down at you, softly tilting your face so you looked him in the eyes. “It’ll be okay, you will find a nice job that you love and I’m sure that you will find a work on the grid if that is what you want. You don’t have to worry, it will all sort itself out. Maybe not tomorrow but overtime and this truly was the best decision you could make. You deserve to go to work and enjoy it and be treated good”

“Thank you Lew” you smiled, softly pecking his lips. “No need to say thank you” he mumbled, slowly kissing you again. The kiss was slow but sweet and loving. His hand rubbed circles on your back and the other one still held your chin, keeping you in place as he kissed down your chin and over your neck.

His brown eyes asked the question he needed an answer to.

Your whole body felt electric, needing his touch needing to relax and get other thoughts in your head “Please” you whispered, leaning your head back on the couch to give him more space.

The pace was slow and soft. His kisses moving down your body before his determined tongue worked on your most sensitive spot. He did everything so annoyingly slowly but you still didn’t want to take control so you let him be. Let him tease you until you came over his amazing tongue.

His dick made you feel like you were outside of your own skin as he moved slowly inside of you, the position he had you in making your head spin.

It was all soft and slow. Not with the aim to fuck you fast and hard but with the aim to savour the moment and pamper you with love

And it made you fall even harder for the Brit.

You felt like you were laying on a cloud. Your body relaxing and head slowly working down until you felt completely content.

Lewis had thrown you some clothes before climbing in bed with you, his arms cradling you to his chest as you talked with soft voices.

“How do you feel for the race?” You hummed into the skin of his chest. “Uh I don’t know” he admitted your head nodding in understanding. “Last weekend was really good but the question marks still stand and I don’t know what this season will turn out like and it makes me… I don’t know, fidgety, angsty? I want control but I don’t have that”

“Well. I think it’s gonna turn out fine. You did such good improvements last season and you are already ahead of that, I mean you got your first podium like last race and now it was the third or whatever so it’s not done yet”

Lewis hummed, pulling you into him more, nestling his face into your neck. “It will be easier if I have you”

You giggled at his cheesy comment, trading your fingers through his curls softly. “Why are you laughing at that?” He asked feigning hurt which made you laugh out loud. “Because it was so cheesy!”

“Can’t say a single thing can I?”

“You can!” You giggled “just not something so cheesy”

Lewis chuckled, kissing your temple “that’s just how I am”

You smiled at him, feeling completely overwhelmed with him and how the fuck you had met someone like him. But just like that the moment was over and interrupted with your schrill ringtone. Lewis groaned reaching for it and handed it to you with an unimpressed look.

“Y/n! I didn’t think you would answer”

You groaned out a chuckle at Pierre’s voice rolling around to look at the ceiling. “Hey! For what do I deserve that tone?” Pierre exclaimed, he was clearly not at home. The sounds in the background loud enough to drown out his voice if it wasn’t for his yelling

“Where are you?” You asked, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet up your chin. “I’m out with Lando and Charles, come here!”

“Nah not today Pierre” you chuckled, meeting Lewis curios look and flashing him a smile.

“Whaaat why not, you love partying with me don’t you”

“Of course I do but not today”

Pierre was quite for a second “hey why did you call?” You tried to nudge him “ah well I heard you quit!”

“Yeah I did” you hummed, laughing at his excited scream “yeeeaa finally! Hey Charles said they may be looking for someone at Ferrari so go ask tomorrow!”

“I will, thank you P, but hey if that was it can we talk tomorrow?”

“Ye yeah of course, where are you by the way?”

“Uh” you started but he catched up immediately “your at Lewis’s aren’t you!”

You grunted in annoyance “Hey Charles! Y/n is at Lewis’s!”

You groaned, throwing your head back “Pierre!”

“What! Y/n!” You heard Charles yell from beside his friend, your eyes rolling at their childish behaviour. They all knew about the ordeal after all.

“Okay okay we talk tomorrow bye idiots, call me if you need anything and be careful” you scolded

“Yeah yeah mom bye byeee”

You shook your head with a smile on your face as you looked at Lewis. “Well they just wanted to ruin the moment” you smiled, slowly sinking down next to him in the bed again. “Well they know how to do that very well”

You laughed, pecking his lips with a hum of agreement. “At least they are good at something”

Nerves tickled through your body as you waited for the e-mail. It had been a week since you’d been at an interview for Ferrari. It was the exact same job as at red bull but hopefully a better team. You loved the vibe you got when you’d been in the interview. They had showed you around and introduced you to multiply people who worked there and to your happiness there were multiply women who would work close to you if they would give you the job.

“What time was it they said?”

Lewis voice broke the silence in the kitchen. He was cooking you dinner as you sat at the bar stools with your computer. Reloading the page over and over to see if any new mail had dropped in.

“They said the results would be out thirty, everybody who applied should get a email with either an invitation to the job or a no thank you” you explained for what felt like the hundredth time.

Lewis scoffed at your tone but the smile he held told you he wasn’t angry or upset with it. Knowing you were just so stressed to know.

“It’s gonna be fine, relax” he tried but you scoffed this time “no it will not”

“Even if this isn’t your job you will find another one, take a deep breath and relax”

It didn’t matter what he told you. This meant to much for you to be able to relax and he knew that as well he just didn’t want you to stress yourself up

“I’ve got an mail” you whispered as you saw the mail pop into your mailbox after you’d reloaded it yet again.

The man immediately dropped the spatula and hurried over to you. “We’ll open it” he chuckled at your grimace.

“What if-“

“No, open it and then we will take it step by step” he told you sternly, not wanting you to stress.

You did as he said with a sigh. Your heart beating fast as you read the message.

“I got it” you whispered out loud, not really believing it yourself yet. You read it again and again until Lewis scooped you up from the chair “see told you it would work out! I’m so happy for you”

The beam you held never faltered as you ate your delicious dinner and watched a movie with the man you more and more started to fall in love with.

“I will never get tired of seeing you in red” Charles grinned as you walked through the paddock, your smile mirroring his

“I will”

The bitter mutter from your boyfriend made you chuckle, kissing his cheek to turn his frown upside down.

“Oh come on, what happened to always support and love”

“I do support you” he defended “but that doesn’t mean I have to love it”

“I think you do love u it” Pierre cut in, Lewis shaking his head at his words “it’s always hot with that type of rivalry”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Pierre’s words nodding along with his reasoning

“Not all wrong”

Lewis didn’t answer he just pulled you closer with an protective arm around your waist

“Don’t like it” he muttered in your ear

#f1 #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #Lewis Hamilton #Lewis Hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfiction #Lewis Hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton angst #red bull #mercedes

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seireitonin · 30 days

Note

hi :) do u have any e.j x toby headcannons?

Toby x EJ hcs!!!

@bimbvx Ik you’ll like this post too💋 anyway here’s some hcs I have!

Toby struggled with internalized homophobia, him being a closeted bi man

It didn’t matter, no one would know anyway everyone knows he had girlfriends before

But since he currently had no girlfriend, he had no one to help check his injuries after missions, no one to keep him grounded, no one to turn to

Then Jack came into his life

Jack not only wanted to check on him because they were friends, but he also wanted to study CIPA up close

It’s a win win for both of them

So almost every night Toby would be with Jack, talking

The conversations got deeper and deeper

And they because really close friends

As Jack would check for injuries and talk to Toby

Toby noticed that he wanted Jacks touch more and more

Going to Jack after missions became his favorite part of the day

He liked the way Jack gently touched him, checking for injuries, running his hands over him, as he spoke to him softly

“Did you get hit here while you were out? I’m noticing a bruise.”

Toby started to notice he got the same feeling he did when he looked at the women he loved romantically

And so he stayed far away from Jack very far away

Not caring about his injuries. He couldn’t feel them anyway

Jack was honestly really sad. Did he do something wrong? He thought they were friends. He loved talk ing to Toby, even if he was obnoxious and cocky

So why hasn’t Toby come by in months?

They ran across each other one day in the forest, Toby coming back from a mission and Jack coming back from hunting

Toby didn’t even look at Jack

“Want me to check for injuries?”

Toby wanted to say no. He didn’t want to crave Jacks touch anymore. He wanted to stop thinking of Jack completely

But he couldn’t

He wanted this.

“Yeah. I do”

So back to Jacks home they went

And Toby felt his hand on him again

God how he missed it and hated that he did

“Toby. Why didn’t you come for months?”

Jack bluntly asked him

“Doesn’t matter. Mind your business”

“You agreed to help with my CIPA research. You are my business”

Toby glared

“Tell me. Now. “

Both of them were blunt and didn’t know how to properly tell each other how they were feeling

“Because I like you touching me too much.”

“What?”

“I didn’t stutter”

They both look at each other silently

“Tell me what you mean by that.”

“It means exactly what I said. I like when you touch me. Way too much”

Jack didn’t know how to handle this.

So he grabs Toby’s face

“Like this?”

Jack decides to mess with him, taking off his mask

“Knock that shit off!”

“You’re the one who likes it. But it’s fine. Because I like touching you”

Toby, being impulsive and reckless, kisses him

Jack kisses back

Since that day they’ve been secretly dating each other

Toby still isn’t ready to come out but he feels so comfortable around Jack

Jack helps him eat properly, check for injuries, lets Toby ramble while he works in silence

But Toby knows he’s listening

Toby brings back bags of organs for Jack

They hold hands in the woods where they know no one will see them

They’re best friends as well so they tease each other

But this is Toby we’re talking about, you’re gonna get teased no matter who you are

“Jack, lemme put candles in your eye sockets so you look like a Jack o lantern”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

Of course their relationship isn’t perfect

Toby has episodes sometimes as does Jack

And sometimes they clash really bad

Jack getting extremely angry and Toby getting really angry too

And Toby is so cocky he’ll never think he’s wrong until he really sits down and thinks about it (if he feels like it)

Since they’re both men and killers they don’t know how to properly express emotions a lot of the time

So they end up saying stuff they don’t mean

But they still care about each other at the end of the day

“You know, for a monster, you have a really gentle touch”

“So do you for the puppet slave of a evil being”

They smile softly at each other

They both relate to being slaves to demons

Jack having to be a host at all time and Toby having to be at slendermans call and also allow him into his body if he wanted to turn Toby into a puppet for however long he wanted

They both had their lives stolen and controlled by powers above them and there was almost nothing they could do

Not many people could relate to that

So they’re grateful for each other

“Hey Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being my patient”

“You’re welcome”

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta characters #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby #ticci toby hc #ticci toby hcs #crp #eyeless jack hcs #eyelessjack hcs #eyeless jack hc #ticcijack #ticci toby x eyeless jack #seiretonin

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

Text

My first choice (part 1/2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eye prince to fall in love with.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~ 5500

warnings: friends to lovers, slow burn (with very obvious mutual pining), angst, Aegon is a sad boy (but ends up being a pretty good wingman!)

author's note: this is inspired by “Little women” and Amy March in particular. I took the liberty to rewrite some plot lines because to me Aemond is nothing like Laurie (Aegon is ;) and I hate love triangles so we are not having any of that sorry. it's a bit of a roller coaster so I divided it into 2 parts in hopes that it will be easier to read: the first part explains Aemond's feelings, the second one is about hers. ✨ part 2

part 1. How could you be so blind

Aegon knows he's supposed to be relieved — he never wanted the crown and now that Rhaenyra is the Queen and a feast is arranged in her honor, he should be celebrating. And he may have been hitting the wine way too hard for the past couple of hours, but he can’t pretend to be happy, and he gave up trying to force a smile. It’s ridiculous that he is upset over this, and yet he can’t help but feel horribly useless. The prince drinks one cup after another until the room starts spinning and he can’t even sit straight — and then he suddenly finds himself propped against the wall, sliding under the table instead of sitting at it. Aegon catches a few judgemental glances but at this point, he couldn’t care less. There is only one person whose judgment he is afraid of — and it’s not long before he’s greeted with a displeased remark:

“When I asked you not to swoop too low, I couldn’t imagine you would literally lay on the floor.”

He looks up — and here you are, staring down at him, not even trying to cover up your disappointment. At any other time, Aegon would’ve at least tried to sober up, but today he’s disappointed in himself, too, so he doesn’t make an effort. Instead, he reaches out an arm to you with a lax smile:

“Would you like to join me?”

“I didn’t get the invitation to this pity party so I will pass,” your tone suggests you are not in the mood for jesting. “Now that you’ve succeeded in making a fool out of yourself, would you mind getting upright?”

“I think I like it here,” he retorts, shamelessly staring at the legs of the maids passing by.

“You like wallowing in misery for all to see?” you huff. “Aegon, get up.”

He fakes a whine:

“My legs gave out, I’m afraid!”

“You would need to drink all the wine in the castle for that to happen, and I doubt you managed to do that,” you roll your eyes, taking a step toward him — but pause upon hearing a voice behind your back:

“You underestimate my brother.”

Aemond has a habit of sneaking up on people which often startles you yet right now you are too angry at Aegon to be bothered. You throw Aemond a glare over your shoulder but your eyes soften when you see the apologetic look on his face. It’s not the first time that the two of you find yourself in this situation — throughout the years you learned to work as a team: you bring Aegon back to his senses while Aemond helps to physically bring him to the nearest flat surface. You have never asked him for help — and yet he’s always there.

Aemond is about to lean down to help his brother up — you stop the one-eye prince with your hand, your palm inches away from his chest. Anyone else would’ve thought twice before standing in his way but you don’t hesitate.

“He is perfectly capable to get up on his own,” you reject Aemond’s attempt, your eyes fixed on Aegon. “He can hold onto the wall shall he feel unable to stay on his two feet.”

There is something in your gaze that makes Aegon uncomfortable, piercing him to the bone. You are never downright mean or rude but with just a few words you can easily unmask his feigned recklessness. The prince stands up, tottering and feeling a little light-headed.

“Are you happy, now when I'm in the standing position?”

“If you cared about anyone else's feelings but your own, you wouldn't be in this position,” you scold him while Aemond takes his brother under the arm to guide him out. Aegon tries to grab another cup of wine but you slap his hand.

“Do you ever get ashamed of yourself?” you hiss at him.

“Let me think... No, why would I?” he sounds sarcastic.

“You should be,” you whisper scream at him. “You can find nothing to do but dawdle and make a mockery of yourself!”

Aemond feels his brother shuddering at your words, and he tightens his hold on Aegon.

“Well, what else am I to do,” his voice is bitter. “Since I am not an heir and serve no purpose to the realm nor do I have any taste for duty.”

You slow your pace, and a sigh leaves your mouth.

“I feel sorry for you, Aegon, I do. I only wish you'd bear it better,” you reach out to stroke his arm but the prince bristles.

“You don't have to feel sorry for me. Your duty is to marry, and we will see how that goes,” he mutters before he can stop himself — and regrets it the very next second when you swiftly turn to him.

“At least I would be respected if I couldn't be loved,” your tone hushed but sharp.

Aegon stops dead in his tracks, his wide eyes meeting yours. You moved away from the crowd into the hall, and it becomes silent. And then his lower lip quivers.

“But I thought that you loved me,” Aegon whimpers, his assumed nonchalance instantly gone.

“Oh, Aegon, how much did you have to drink?” you come to his side, lending him a shoulder to cry on. While he’s aggressively sniffling, you look at Aemond and quietly mouth “How many cups?”

“Way more than usual,” he gives you a wan smile, and you groan at his answer, taking Aegon by the arm.

“Alright, you can lean on me. But don’t get handsy or I will push you down the stairs,” your remark earns a weak laugh from the older prince, and the three of you head toward his chambers.

Aegon doesn’t talk much but his mood softens and you exchange a few jokes before finally reaching his room.

“I can take it from here,” Aemond suggests but his brother eagerly protests.

“No, I want to be tucked into bed! And definitely not by you,” he sticks out his tongue, and you chuckle at his whim.

“Aemond, I can handle him.”

The one-eyed prince shoots you a knowing glance and holds the door open for you and Aegon to walk in. You slowly move to his bed, making sure he doesn’t stumble on his way — and then, with a sudden boost of energy, the prince flops down on the fluffy blankets, letting out a satisfied moan. You hold back a giggle and wait for him to crawl under the covers.

“Should I call for the maid to help you undress?”

“No, I am way too comfortable like this,” he pulls the blanket up to his chin, and you sit on the edge of the bed.

“I am sorry for the way I behaved,” he reveals, frowning. “I did not mean to, truly.”

“Aegon, you know I’m not the one you should apologize to,” you take his hand in yours, and he squeezes it with childish eagerness. “You left Helaena all alone. And you promised me you would make an effort.”

“I know, I know,” he yawns. “I was doing better until today, I swear, you should ask her,” his speech becomes incoherent as he is already too drowsy to talk, his cheeks flushed from the wine and the heat of the blankets. As you stand up to leave, Aegon mumbles:

“I fetched you a book... the one you were looking for,” he sloppily points to his table by the window before dozing off.

There is only one book so it’s easy to find — and when you do, you can barely contain a sound of surprise: it's the complete history of Westeros, heavy and hardcover, decorated with gilding. You glance at Aegon but he looks fast asleep so you cautiously get out of his chambers.

If you were to turn around, you would’ve noticed that he kept an eye on you with a grin on his face.

When you walk out, you see Aemond still standing there, his gaze landing on the book and then immediately on you. It takes you a minute to figure it out and then you smile at him:

“Even though I appreciate the gesture, it is hard to imagine Aegon in the library.”

“He asked me to help him find the book you wanted. I did,” the prince explains as if it isn’t that big of a deal. But to you, it is — although you think he only did it out of politeness.

“Thank you, Aemond,” you enthusiastically turn your attention to the book, flipping through the pages in awe. He watches you, feeling the warmth in his chest at the sight of your joy.

“You know that you bring out the best in him?” Aemond says in a low voice, and your heart skips a beat at his comment. You are thankful for the dim lighting that makes your heated cheeks less obvious.

“You overestimate my influence,” you say, then dither before admitting, “I’m afraid I was too hard on him today.”

“Someone has to do it,” Aemond objects, and there’s something in his tone — sincere and soft, that makes you look at him again. At this moment, away from the prying eyes and the pressure of everyone’s expectations, you can see the side of him that people rarely get acquainted with.

“I think you are doing a pretty good job, too,” you tell the prince, finding his presence ever so calming. You could never understand why would anyone call Aemond intimidating when he’s been nothing but kind to you ever since you two met. Whenever you have a chance to be alone with him, his company always brings you comfort, and that feeling is so rare, you want to chase it.

But then you remind yourself of the harsh reality, and your smile falters.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” you look down at the book. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“You need to elaborate on that,” Aemond says uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve heard that you were courting lady Baratheon,” you explain casually, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitates before answering.

“Well, I only plan to,” the prince clarifies. “If she accepts my advances.”

“It would be silly of her not to,” you blurt out and, while you can’t see it, Aemond gives you a quizzical look.

“She may have her reasons —”

“I can’t come up with a single one,” you tell him with so much confidence, Aemond’s heart flutters at your words but you continue without a second thought. “You are intelligent, good-hearted, handsome — and a really skilled swordsman. Not to mention you have the biggest dragon in the realm, which does sound like a reasonable perk.”

The prince is glad that you’re too preoccupied with the book to see his stunned expression. It’s not just the fact that you compliment him so easily — but also the way you do it. When other people try to, they usually start with Vhagar as if the old grumpy creature is the main good thing about Aemond. But you only bring up the dragon at the very end and in passing, instead keeping the focus on the prince. He is silent for a moment, letting your words sink into his memory.

And then Aemond persuades himself that you only said it out of politeness.

You notice his lack of response — and you are about to question it when a maid comes to you in haste:

“Lady Y/N, your presence is needed. Your father is looking for you.”

“Better not keep him waiting,” the prince encourages you with a grin. “If he finds Aegon, he might hug him to death.”

You playfully elbow him and turn to follow the maid but then stop to say:

“Please make sure your brother stays in bed.”

“Will do,” Aemond looks at you walking away, clutching the book to your chest as if it's the most precious thing in the world.

To this day, it is truly a mystery to him how Aegon managed to befriend someone like you. You met the Targaryen brothers when your family was invited to one of the royal feasts. You were ten and three, the middle one of three sisters. Your oldest — Elaesa — has been the center of attention, beautiful and graceful, but while everyone’s eyes were on her, you looked a little bit disoriented. It was the first feast that you’ve attended, and maybe you got too agitated or overwhelmed — or both — but soon you ended up lost in the castle, and somehow ripped the hem of your dress in the process.

Aemond was the one to find you. The prince has never been keen on taking part in celebrations, often sneaking away from all the noise. That’s when he saw you — fussing with the dress, your sobs echoing through the hall.

“Are you hurt?” he rushed to your side, and you looked up at him with blubbered eyes.

“Why do you have so many halls? You should hand out maps so people can find their way back,” despite being clearly upset, you sounded unusually serious, and Aemond fought back a smile.

“I can help you find your parents without a map,” he suggested, and for a second it seemed to lighten your mood but then your pout worsened.

“I cannot go back,” you gestured at the dress. “I am in such trouble!” you whined, the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

Truth be told, Aemond didn’t have much experience with ladies back then nor did he know a thing about dresses but your distress seemed so genuine he couldn’t leave you be.

“It is not that bad,” he pointed at the ripped material. “I can ask our seamstress to take a look.”

You studied his face for a second, then glanced back at the dress — surprisingly, that was all it took for you to stop crying, and no other coaxing was needed. You wiped your nose and fixed your hairdo, smoothing the damaged hem the best you could.

“I'd appreciate it if you help me find my way back,” you said, your face seemingly more relaxed.

Getting you to talk was pretty easy, and Aemond shortly discovered how open-minded and outspoken you were, using your quick thinking to compensate for your timid personality. When you returned to the hall of the Iron Throne, he was reluctant to let you go but promised to come back with the seamstress. The task only took him about ten minutes, but when he did reappear, you were not alone — Aegon was standing next to you, making you laugh so hard, it looked like you forgot about the dress already. Aemond didn’t mean to interrupt as he suddenly felt very out of place, uninvited in his own home, so he abandoned the idea of helping you and just left.

At first, he thought you fell for Aegon’s flirtatious charms but soon learned that, as much as you did like his brother’s humor, his charms had no effect on you. On the contrary, you often chided him for hitting on young girls and openly condemned his affection for wine. Your honesty set you apart from all the ladies Aegon was surrounded with — and that was the reason he came to enjoy your company as much as he did. Despite the three years age gap, you were the one who told him the truth, no matter how ugly it might’ve been, but you did so without prejudice or any ill intentions. You would usually follow your critique with advice or a solution of some sort to keep the prince away from unnecessary trouble. That is why you were on friendly terms with Helaena, too, and your influence was also welcomed by Alicent, the then Queen. She liked that you were straightforward with your remarks and often said that you were wise beyond your years. Although, as much as Aemond agreed with it, he suspected there was a reason you had to grow up early.

It happened the same year you met — your older sister, with all her grace and beauty, ran away from home to elope with some unworthy beggar. Your mother was inconsolable for at least a week, saying that Elaesa brought shame upon her family. Your father, the kind man that he is, forgave his daughter fairly quickly and tried his best to restore peace. And yet, you came to realize that Elaesa's vagary did cast a shadow over your House. Your youngest sister, Alyna, was a fragile little thing, frequently sick and tacit — which left you to be the one representing your family in the eyes of society.

Within a few years, there wasn't a thing you weren't good at: lords lined up to have a dance with you, ladies admired how well-spoken you were and shared a laugh at your florid sarcasm, and you learned to embroider, to ride a horse, to walk exquisitely dressed and with impeccable posture. But while for everyone else it was a reason to compliment you, Aemond saw the underlying cause of your diligence — the corrosive desire to prove one's worth which was something he learned to live with as well. And which led him to think he understood you better than anyone.

More often than not he found himself watching you as if he had the need to make sure you weren't in harm's way. Helping you with Aegon was a part of that routine but it also gave him a chance to be alone with you. You talked about everything and nothing in particular, and he would catch glimpses of you — the real you, shy and emotional at times, but still understanding and perceptive. He cherished every opportunity to steal you away from the never-ending chattering, from lords ogling at you, from Jason Lannister whose interest in your company should've been concerning. Aemond has gotten so used to observing you, so enthralled with your covert conversations, he didn't realize that a particular feeling was creeping up on him. But there was one person who turned out to be more observant than Aemond has been. Aegon was the mere reason why his brother ended up at your door a few days later. Aemond’s been to your place a couple of times and he promptly memorized the way to the farthest room of the house — the one you used to paint in. It was the only thing you truly allowed yourself to enjoy, an unexpected talent of yours which you soon perfected, too, except it wasn't meant for the others to marvel at but plainly for you to keep your head occupied, to have some quiet time.

He walks in when you are already painting the finishing touches. When you turn to greet him, you stop mid-sentence, seeing that it’s Aemond instead of his brother who you were waiting for.

“He overslept,” the younger prince shrugs. “It isn't a bothersome task to come pick up the portrait of my nephews.”

You point in the direction of the painting with the brush in your hand. Aemond admires your work — as he always does — while you try to shake off your confusion. There is another reason you did not expect to see Aemond today. You tarry with voicing your concern but eventually glance at him with empathy:

“I was sorry to hear about lady Baratheon’s decision.”

“I was not,” he’s quick to retort.

“I cannot imagine agreeing to marry a Stark,” you say, dipping a brush in a jar of water.

“Is it the cold weather?” Aemond grins knowingly.

“Yes! Gods, just thinking about it makes me feel uneasy. All the layers you have to wear to keep yourself warm, barely being able to move, getting no sunlight...,” you ramble, making sure to wet all the brushes before lining them up on the table.

“Some say they've got quite a beautiful scenery,” Aemond tries to object although he knows his argument doesn't stand a chance.

“I wouldn't be able to enjoy that,” you huff. “How am I to capture the beauty if my paint freezes?”

He only hums in agreement, watching you busy yourself with your supplies. You go through the brushes, delicately cleaning the bristles with a cloth. Your fingers carefully take one brush after the other, and Aemond silently admires your love for neatness and order.

“You are staring,” you say without turning to him.

“Where do you want me to look at?”

“Aemond, you are in a room full of art!” you chuckle lightly. “Surely, enough options to land your eye on.”

The prince lets his gaze go around the place, and it takes him about a minute to quickly examine all the paintings. And then he inevitably looks at you again. Aemond thinks he likes this view the most.

“When do you begin your next great work of art?” he asks, hoping to distract you.

You halt movement, then force out glumly:

“Never.”

“What do you mean?” he’s taken by surprise.

“I’ve come to realize that I’d never be a genius,” you reluctantly explain. “So I’m giving up all my foolish artistic hopes.”

“Y/N, you cannot be serious. You have so much talent and — ”

“Talent isn’t genius!” you throw up your hands in defeat, and he can sense your frustration from a distance. “I may be talented in other things, but when it comes to painting, I want to be great or nothing. And I am only of middling talent,” you scoop up the brushes, give them a quick look and place in another jar to dry.

Aemond wants to argue, he really does — but he also knows better than to try and persuade you when you are like this: firmly standing your ground, exuding nothing but stubbornness. In any other situation, he would’ve found it endearing but it’s upsetting to see you downplaying your brilliance.

“Hm, may I at least ask your last portrait to be of me?”

You instantly turn to him, taken aback. Throughout the years you’ve known him, he clearly expressed that he did not like being painted, and you only could make a quick sketch or two, at best, when he wasn't paying attention.

“Alright,” the long-awaited opportunity makes you smile. “Next time I come for breakfast, I will drag you into the garden to pose for me,” you give him a pointed look, and Aemond humbly nods.

Your smile grows wider but you try to tone it down, afraid to spook him, and focus on wiping the nearest table.

“What are you going to do with your life in the meantime?” he changes the subject.

“Polish up my other skills and become an ornament to society,” you sigh, putting the cloth away.

There’s a brief pause before he says, his voice a bit strained:

“Here is where Jason Lannister comes in, I suppose?”

You say yes but the answer comes a little bit too fast, and Aemond notices that the topic makes you uncomfortable.

“But you are yet to be betrothed to him,” he clarifies, gaze fixed on you.

“I will be if he proposes,” your eyes meet his, and you are sure that there’s a shadow of disapproval on his face that only spurs your stubbornness. You fully turn to the prince to say: “I always knew I had to marry well, I do not feel ashamed of that.”

But Aemond isn’t looking for a fight — he swiftly corrects himself:

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. As long as...” — he can barely bring himself to say it — “As long as you love him.”

For the reason unknown to Aemond, his statement brings a bleak smile to your face.

“I believe we can have some power over who we love,” you object, lowering your gaze for a second as you start absentmindedly twisting the ring on your finger.

“I think the poets would disagree,” he chuckles, trying to defuse the unexpected tension.

But when you look up at him, your glare is as obdurate as ever.

“Well, I am not a poet, I am just a woman,” you rebut crisply. “And as a woman, I have no illusions about my prospects which do not include me earning a living to support my family. And my parent’s fortune has its limits as I've come to learn. Hence why, if I want to have children — I do — and be able to provide them with everything they wish for, I must rely on my husband,” that last word is pronounced with disappointment. “So don't stand here and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me.”

Had he not known you, Aemond would’ve been very impressed — with how blunt and witty you are, you are very good at delivering speeches. But as he’s standing in front of you, watching your face, he senses that your determination is akin to despair. Aemond thinks he might take a chance at arguing with you, after all — but you’re both startled by a knock on the door:

“Lady Y/N, Ser Lannister just arrived.”

You look baffled for a second, your confidence crumbling.

“Why would he — I, I didn’t expect him today,” you mumble, almost ashamed of his arrival.

Yet you pull yourself together faster than Aemond can come up with a reason for you to stay. You remove your apron and quickly examine your dress, then move to put on a cape.

“Did I miss any paint stains?” you ask Aemond in a haste.

“No,” he looks over the flowing material of your neat dress, your hair knotted up high — and then: “...Wait!”

You stop abruptly while he grabs a clean cloth.

“There is something on your cheek,” he says as you both step toward each other — and in the next second you’re suddenly standing too close.

You turn to him and shyly shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. Aemond is frozen for a moment but then carefully wipes away a slight smudge of green from under your cheekbone. His hand unwillingly lingers as he examines the delicate features of your face. You open your eyes, looking at the prince questingly. His facial expression is unreadable but it makes you wish you didn’t have to go.

You brush away that silly thought and stand back, fixing your cape.

“How do I look? Do I look alright?”

“You look beautiful,” Aemond says with no hesitation, taking you in — with your cheeks a bit flushed, lip parted and eyes shining. “You are beautiful.”

You seem bewildered at his words but then a smile grows on your face — and in a blink of an eye, you’re gone. The prince is left standing there, staring at the spot where you were just now. The room suddenly feels so empty without you — and so does his heart.

The realization strikes Aemond like lightning: he wants to be the one you come to, at all times. The one holding your hand, watching you paint, or read, or dance — watching you do whatever your heart desires. Because his only desire is to be with you. That thought puts down roots deep into his chest, and he doesn’t know how to pluck it out.

Nor does he want to. It’s all he can think about for the duration of the week, until you come to the castle — with canvas and supplies, not hiding your excitement. He almost forgot about his promise but follows you into the garden without objection. You sense a slight change in Aemond’s behavior, him being more quiet than usual, but decide not to push the prince so he won’t reconsider.

“I will start with a sketch and then we will go from there. Alright?”

He just hums in response while looking at you but you are unaware of the meaning behind his gaze.

“Take any pose you like, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable,” you suggest with a half-smile, knowing full well he will probably remain standing.

And he does, arms clasped behind his back, his eye never leaving your face. You immerse in the process too quickly to be bothered, the piece of charcoal in your hand sliding over the paper, leaving lines and shadows. Drawing Aemond is an effortless task, and you can only enjoy how easy it is to sketch the sharp contours of his face and his lean body. The simplicity can also be explained by the fact that you've already memorized all the details by heart: the curves of his cheekbones and his lips, the flow of his silver hair, the shape and cut of his eye.

When you are finally satisfied, you can’t tell if it’s been an hour or three, and the prince, as it seems, hasn’t moved a muscle. At this point, Aemond’s demeanor does worry you yet you blame it on his nervousness.

“Want to take a look?” you hand him a few sketches. “Mind you, I’m not finished so please don’t judge too harshly —”

“I could never,” his hand brushes yours when he takes the drawings.

Aemond has seen your works before but it's a whole new experience when he's the one being portrayed. He almost doesn't recognize himself — you didn't miss a single feature of his yet somehow this version of him looks too beautiful to be real. He's at a loss for words until he spots that there's another drawing hidden underneath. It's a sketch of him sitting, both arms on the table, his face looks like he's deep in his thoughts.

“When did you do this one?”

“After the coronation,” the memory makes you smile. “Made my poor father lug around with charcoal in his pockets while he was trying to keep up the conversation with Ser Lannister.”

It was the day you got introduced to Jason. You were supposed to be by his side, with your charming smile and polite talks, yet you spend your time drawing Aemond. He can imagine your gaze focused on the piece of paper, the way you must've been looking at him to capture every detail and movement — all of that without him asking to, without him even noticing. There's so much care in that act, he is unexpectedly moved by it.

The words leave his mouth before he can think them over:

“Don't marry him.”

His request makes your hands tremble, and you drop the piece of charcoal, slowly looking up at Aemond, the smile disappearing from your face. He did not mean that, you must've misunderstood.

“...What?”

Aemond turns to you, looking you straight in the eyes:

“Don't marry him,” he repeats, helplessly and desperately.

“Why?” you ask in disbelief, suddenly having trouble breathing. The only reason you can think of sounds delusional, close to impossible. You wait for him to come up with some clever explanation — instead, he comes closer to you, his gaze so warm it makes your cheeks burn.

“You know why,” Aemond says and his hand gently lands on yours. You look down at it, perplexed, your mouth opening and closing, heart rate speeding up.

He keeps his eye on your face as he waits for your reply. You are not repulsed nor angry — which is supposed to be a good sign — but the reaction he gets is actually worse than that. Because when you finally glance at him, you look hurt.

“No,” you yank away your hand as if his touch stung. “No, Aemond, you are being mean, stop it,” you take a step back, your eyes glossy and lips tight. The look you give causes him physical pain — while you are trying your best to fight back the tears.

His intelligence clearly fails him because Aemond has no clue what’s going on. He feels like there is a deeper meaning to your words but he does not get it.

“Why am I being mean?” he asks incredulously as you slowly continue putting more distance between you two.

You don’t even realize you are doing it — it’s almost an urge to not be in his presence, for the first time ever. The weight of his words feels suffocating and merciless. How easy it is for him to toy with your emotions, you think, and that cruelty of his — as you see it — wounds you so deeply, he might as well put a torch to your heart.

“I have felt like everyone’s second choice my entire life,” you bemoan, not being able to keep your agony bottled up any longer. “In everything, no matter how hard I’ve worked to be better. I thought you out of all people would understand that,” you sound raspy, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“So I will not be the person you settle for just because your first marriage proposal was turned down,” only when your voice shudders, Aemond finally understands how wrongfully you interpreted his intentions.

But you are out of his reach already — at least ten feet away from him, and the distance separates you like a giant chasm.

“No, I won’t. I can’t,” you are hurting so much, your feelings spill out like blood from a wound. “I can’t do it. Not when I have spent years loving you.”

His breathing hitches as your confession pierces through his chest — and he is left speechless, deafened by it. The moment slips through his fingers with unforgiving pace: you were standing so close only a minute ago — and now you are turning your back to him, rushing away. The last thing he sees is how broken you look, your shoulders slumped and eyes brimming with tears.

Aemond stands, shocked and paralyzed until it’s too late — the garden is silent with your absence and the only evidence of you being there is your supplies scattered on the ground. Your words are ringing in his head, his heart heavy with a dreadful feeling.

He was afraid he would never have you — but he actually could have.

If only he wasn't so blind.

➡ Part 2

yes, this is me blabbing again: I’ve watched this movie an embarrassing amount of times, and I’ve wanted to write a fic based on it for a few months. I did rephrase a couple of quotes but still tried my best to do the story justice. my apologies for the angst — just so you know, it was painful to write. also, will I ever stop using friends to lovers trope? only time will tell! (I probably won't, though) I know there is a very heartwarming fic by aemonds-war-crime that was also based on “Little women” and it's only fair that I link it as well!

tagging @greenowlfactif because you asked 💙 comments and opinions are VERY welcomed! 🥺 🎨 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

#aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #<<< PLS don’t be mad! I know Aegon isn’t the main character but he has a meaningful role #so I thought maybe I should add his tag too... (PLS DON’T BE MAD)#on a completely unrelated note I decided to start with dialogue(s) and then bring the backstory #I think it’s more engaging??? but we’ll see how that goes #also it was a conscious decision to start with Aemond’s side of the story — just so it comes as a surprise when she says ‘hey I loved you f #(I mean it obviously won’t be surprising if you saw the movie...)#ALSO I really hope you guys will want the second part (’cause I already wrote it lmao)#my stuff #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond one eye x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst

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fatecantstopme · 7 months

Text

Better Together

Pairing: Rafael Barba x reader

Summary: Barba acts like he hates you because it's the only way he can keep his cool in your presence. Things come to a head and you call him out on it...

Warnings: cursing, Rafael is a bit of a dick at first. Use of nicknames (baby, cariño, querida, etc.). SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V)

A/N: Spanish translations in brackets/italics after each sentence.

cariño/querida: sweetheart/dear/darling/baby/etc.

por favor: please

qué: what

hermosa: beautiful/gorgeous

"Right...and what makes you qualified to make that determination?"

You glared at him. "Eight years of education and ten years of practice."

"Fine, but how long did you actually talk to him?" he countered.

"Four hours."

"So now you're an expert in his mental health?"

You groaned. "He belongs in a psychiatric facility, Barba. Not a prison."

"I disagree. He raped and murdered five women."

"I'm not defending his actions, but I'm telling you he's incapable of understanding the consequences of his actions."

"She's right, counselor," Olivia Benson cut in. "I got the same feeling she did when I first talked to him."

Rafael Barba let out an annoyed huff. "Fine. What do you propose?"

"Offer him a deal," she suggested. "Send him where he can get the help he needs."

Barba nodded, expression still slightly annoyed. "Fine." With that, he walked out of the precinct, presumably to go write up a deal.

As soon as he was out of ear shot, you turned to your friend and colleague. "He argues with me for ten minutes straight, but you tell him the same damn thing and he immediately agrees?"

Olivia shrugged. "You know how he is."

"Pompous, arrogant, rude, and downright insulting?"

She laughed. "All of the above, but he's also a pretty damn good ADA."

You sighed. "I would absolutely love to disagree with you, but you're not wrong. Part of me hates that he's so good at his job. And I hate his smug face and his attitude and those damn three piece suits he looks so goddamn good in," you finished your ramble with a groan.

"Maybe if you told him you thought he was hot, he'd be nicer to you," Olivia said with a wink.

"I hate you."

She laughed. "No you don't."

"Fine, I don't, but I will do no such thing. He quite clearly despises me."

"Does he?"

"Does who what?" Nick Amaro asked as he entered the squad room.

"Does Barba hate (Y/N)?" Olivia asked.

Nick chuckled. "Without a doubt."

"See?!" you said smugly.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "One of these days you're going to have to talk to him. Tell him off for being such an ass to you all the time."

"Now that I agree with," Nick cut in.

"If he pushes the right buttons, I will."

**********

Little did you know that two days later, Barba would push the exact right button.

Olivia, Nick, Amanda, Fin, and yourself were gathered in the squad room discussing your latest case. You had two dead girls in two days and 1PP was already breathing down your necks.

You were going over the profile with the team when Barba walked in. "I know it sounds crazy, guys, but I believe the perp is a girl...probably the same age as the victims."

"Why?" Fin asked.

As you started to explain your reasoning, to include the lack of sexual assault, the relationship between the two girls, and the anger clearly present in the attacks, Barba cut you off with a harsh laugh.

"You think a 10 year old girl is capable of inflicting that kind of trauma?" he interjected. "There's no way."

You took a deep breath in through your nose and exhaled from your mouth before responding. You needed those ten seconds to calm yourself so you didn't murder him. "Were you ever a 10 year old girl?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Obviously not."

"Are you a forensic psychologist?"

"Again, no."

"Have you been working violent sex crimes for 10 years?"

"No..."

"Then be quiet and listen," you finished harshly.

You'd never snapped at him quite so intensely before and he was taken aback. He was also very aware that he may have taken it a little too far this time. He'd made it a point to keep you at arm's length (or farther) for the past 6 months, and he was belatedly realizing he may have been too cruel.

You finished your profile, answering the questions posed by the rest of the squad, before everyone went about their assigned duties.

Barba announced he was going back to his office to update the DA and you were thankful to be rid of him.

"Maybe you were right, (Y/N)," Olivia said softly. "He either hates you or he hates shrinks."

"Likely both."

"I'm proud of you for clapping back," Amanda said warmly. "Someone's gotta put that guy in his place every once in a while."

You smiled mirthlessly. "Once this case is over, I may have more to say to him, but for now, let's focus on finding the person who killed those girls."

**********

Three days later and you had your suspect in custody. You'd been right in your assessment of the perp...it turned out to be a 10 year old girl who had been relentlessly teased and bullied by the two victims for an entire year. The girl finally snapped and killed them both in a blind rage.

After hearing all of the terrible things that had been done to her, you felt sorry for the girl. You understood why she'd killed those girls, even if you didn't condone it.

"Hey, (Y/N/N)," Fin called. "We're going out for drinks. My treat."

"I think I'll take a rain check guys...I've got something I need to do."

"Awww no fun," Amanda teased.

Olivia gave you a look, but you smiled at her reassuringly. She took it to mean you were okay, so she followed the others out.

You'd decided to pay a very special visit to a certain ADA...

You arrived at his office 20 minutes later, and you belatedly realized you probably should have checked to see if he was even there still. It was already after 6pm, but you hoped since he was a workaholic, he would be unaware of the late hour.

When you reached his office door, you found yourself taking a deep breath. You started to question yourself and whether this was a good idea, but then you thought about the way he'd been treating you and you got a burst of courage.

You knocked on his door and waited. You heard a slightly annoyed "Come in", so you opened the door and stepped into his office.

Barba looked up from the paperwork he was buried in, a look of surprise ghosting over his face. "Dr. (Y/L/N)...to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You shut the door behind you and took a step towards his desk. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"Excuse me?" he asked in surprise.

"Do you have a problem with me, specifically, or is it psychologists in general?"

"I don't have a problem with psychologists."

"So it's me, got it. Do you mind telling me what the hell I did to you?"

He had the grace to look sheepish. "You didn't do anything to me."

"Then why do you treat me like I'm some sort of imbecile?"

"I...I never intended to make you feel that way," he said honestly.

"Really? How did you intend to make me feel? You belittle me, insult my abilities and my intelligence, you're unnecessarily rude to me in front of my colleagues..." you trailed off.

He rose from his seat and came around the front of his desk. His expression was unreadable, but his shoulders had slumped slightly. If you didn't know better, you'd think he actually felt bad for the way he'd been treating you.

"You're right," he admitted. "I have treated you entirely unfairly."

It was your turn to look surprised. Out of all the things you'd expected him to say, an admission of guilt was certainly not one of them.

"I don't want you to think, for even a moment, that I don't think you're brilliant. You are the sharpest woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and you're downright phenomenal at your job."

You opened your mouth and closed it a few times before you could formulate a coherent response. "How in the hell was I supposed to know that?"

He blushed and cast his gaze to the floor. "I suppose there was no way for you to know, given the way I've treated you."

"Why, then?" you asked softly.

He sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face. "It's--complicated."

"Enlighten me, Barba. I've got time."

His green eyes raised back up to meet yours and you found yourself nearly breathless--and not for the first time. His eyes were beautiful, typically sparkling with whit and mischief; but in this moment, they shone with emotions so complex you couldn't begin to comprehend them.

"I never intended to be cruel to you, only distant. But I found that being aloof wasn't enough to keep you at bay--I needed something stronger. So...I started treating you as if I hated you. It was just easier, and perhaps safer."

"Safer?"

He nodded, but neglected to clarify. "Keeping you out of my life has become a necessity, Dr. (Y/L/N)."

His formality annoyed you, but you didn't comment on it. "Then why didn't you just tell me you didn't like me?"

He groaned and turned back to his desk to pour himself a glass of scotch. "Because it's not true, and I'm many things, but a liar isn't one of them."

"Okay, but you want nothing to do with me?"

"Exactly."

"You do understand how contradictory that sounds, correct?"

He took a long drink from his glass and leaned back against his desk. "It sounds moronic, yes, I am aware."

You debated your next words with care. You knew if you said what was on your mind, you might regret it, but you also knew if you didn't say it, you would regret it.

"When I met you, I was instantly intrigued by you," you began. "It was obvious you were highly intelligent, but you were also funny, charming, and impeccably well-dressed. It's a rare combination."

You crossed your arms and sighed. "At first, you were friendly and I quite liked you, but things between us turned icy in an instant. I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now, but what I can tell you is it hurt me. It hurt me deeply, Barba, and it still does."

If he'd felt like an ass before, he felt 1,000 times worse now. "I never intended to hurt you," he said quietly. "You're a kind and loving soul...and you don't deserve to be treated the way I've been treating you."

"You're right," you whispered. "I don't."

He winced slightly and downed the rest of his scotch. "I am truly sorry, (Y/N). More than you'll ever know."

His use of your first name was not lost on you. You could count on one hand the number of times he'd said it and you'd reacted the same way each time. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your breath caught, and your heart began to speed up.

Rafael had never noticed before...had never really paid attention to you the very few times he'd said your name, but he saw your reaction this time. For the first time since he'd met you, he began to wonder if you shared his feelings...

You quickly recovered yourself--praying he hadn't noticed. "I appreciate your apology." Your voice was slightly off pitch and you wanted to kick yourself for letting any emotion show.

"May I ask you something?" he said suddenly.

You nodded, not trusting your voice in the moment.

"You said what you thought of me when we first met--what do you think of me now?"

"Do you really want to know?"

He nodded.

You swallowed thickly. "Everything I said is true. You're a brilliant man and an even better lawyer...and you can be funny and charming, when you want to be. But that's not the Rafael Barba I get. I get the one reserved for the criminals and defense attorneys you dislike. The ones that make your skin crawl. You're pompous, arrogant, and cruel."

He closed his eyes tightly. Hearing you say what you really thought of him was much more painful than he'd anticipated.

"But I don't believe that's who you really are," you said so softly he almost didn't hear.

He looked back up at you in surprise.

"I think it's a facade you put up--a mask you wear to hide behind."

"What makes you think that?"

"Call it intuition, or perhaps training," you said with a shrug. "Either way, I am certain you really are the man I met in the beginning--not the man you've been the past several months."

"How could you have that much faith in me? After the way I've treated you..."

"Perhaps it's foolish...or maybe I just want it to be true."

He stared at you with a strange look on his face. It was as if he was trying to decide if you were playing him or being sincere. His expression slowly morphed as he realized you'd meant every word you'd said.

"May I be honest with you?" he asked.

"I want nothing less."

"Truthfully, I'm terrified of you. Absolutely, 100%, completely terrified."

Your jaw dropped slightly. Once again, he’d caught you off guard.

"You got under my skin the moment I met you and I haven't been able to get rid of you since. I've never felt like this--like I can't control my own actions or my emotions--and it's petrifying. I thought pushing you away would change how I felt, but it only intensified it. I think that's why I became crueler over time--I was angry at myself and angry with you for making me feel this way. It's not fair to you, I know, but it's the truth."

You were once again shocked to the core. You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing...if you weren't so good at reading people, you'd be convinced he was lying, but as it stood, you knew it was the raw, painful truth.

"You can't control everything, you know," you said quietly.

He laughed harshly. "God, how I wish I could."

"What are you so afraid of?"

He took a moment to answer, but once he did, the words poured out of him. "I'm afraid the way I feel about you will ruin both of our careers. I'm afraid that once you see the man behind the mask, you'll run and leave me broken. I'm afraid that we'll fall apart...that we won't stand the test of time. I'm afraid of falling so deeply in love with you that I lose myself completely. But most of all, I'm afraid that I've already screwed this up beyond repair."

For all your education and all the eloquent words you've learned in your lifetime, you found yourself stunned into complete and utter silence. No words came to mind, no coherent thoughts emerged. You stared at him and he stared at you, as the silence dragged on.

After what had to be an eternity, Rafael spoke again. "Please say something. Anything. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you never want to see my face again. Tell me you'd rather jump off a building than be with me--"

"Stop!" The intensity of your demand silenced him. "Just stop talking…I…I can't find the words I want to say, but I do know one thing: I'm not afraid."

Out of all the things you could have said, all the beautiful sentences you could have strung together, those three words were the perfect response. Fueled with sudden courage, Rafael crossed the space between the two of you in three long strides, coming to a stop a few inches from you.

With a shaking hand, he gently stroked your cheek. "May I?" he asked quietly.

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his and you softly begged, "Please."

He leaned into you, lips pressing against yours with soft insistence. The kiss ignited something within you--a desire so deep and powerful it almost frightened you. You grabbed ahold of his suspenders and tugged his body closer to yours as you deepened the kiss.

Rafael moaned softly against your lips, tongue pressing forward, requesting access. You obliged, lips parting to allow him entry. His hands traveled down your soft curves until they landed on your hips. He used his gentle strength to pull you flush against him, his own body backed up against his desk to support him.

You could feel his need for you in his kiss, in his touch...and in his pants. His growing erection was pressed against you, so close to where you wanted him, yet so far away.

Rafael broke the kiss for a moment. "Carmen left for the day."

"Mhmm," you hummed in response.

"But I don't want our first time together to be on the couch in my office."

"How 'bout the desk?" you teased lightly.

He groaned. "Don't think I haven't imagined it, but I'd like to take you home...do this properly--in a bed."

You stared at him for a moment. "If we stay here, it can be casual, unassuming. If I go home with you...that changes everything."

"I don't want casual. I don't want a fling. I want you--and everything that comes along with that."

You studied him closely before responding. You noted the sincerity in his voice and his expression and decided to--for once--allow your heart to lead your decision. "Take me home, Rafael," you whispered.

He breathed deeply, as if trying to control himself. It appeared that you had the same effect on him as he did on you when you called him by his first name.

He didn't say a word--you weren't even sure he could have if he'd wanted to. He simply grabbed his jacket, took your hand, and practically dragged you to the elevator. Once outside, he hailed a cab and helped you into the backseat before sliding in beside you.

As the cab began to move, you rested your hand on Rafael's thigh. He glanced at you, but didn't say anything. You were feeling bold, so you slid your hand slowly up his thigh, inching closer to his evident arousal.

When your fingertips brushed against his clothed cock, he hissed slightly. He leaned over to whisper into your ear so the cab driver wouldn't hear. "Careful, querida. O puedo perder el control [Or I may lose control]."

You inhaled sharply--something about his tone mixed with the hushed Spanish words, sent a jolt of pure arousal straight to your core.

Your reaction didn't go unnoticed by Rafael. He smirked as he discovered one of your kinks. He tucked the knowledge away for later use.

You managed to behave yourself for the rest of the short ride to his apartment, but once inside the building, all bets were off.

His lips were on yours the moment the elevator doors slid closed, pressing your body firmly against the wall. Your fingers tangled in his hair, messing up the perfect locks.

As the elevator dinged and the doors began to open, you reluctantly pulled away from each other. You saw the desperation in his beautiful green eyes and you knew the same look reflected in yours.

He wasted no time guiding you to his apartment and the moment you were both inside, he had you spun around and pressed up against the door.

“Querida,” he whispered hungrily against your lips, fingertips dancing under your shirt.

You moaned softly as you tugged harshly on his suspenders, pushing them out of the way so you could remove his shirt.

Within moments, your clothes and his were strewn across the house as he carried you to his bedroom, nothing left between you but underwear.

Rafael tossed you gently onto the bed before climbing on top of you. He eyed you hungrily—sprawled out beneath him, desire evident on your face.

“You are perfect, hermosa.”

You blushed. “Rafa…”

He groaned. “Fuck. Don’t do that.”

Confusion clouded your expression. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong…

He’d closed his eyes and his face gave away the internal struggle he was experiencing.

Realization suddenly crossed your features and you grinned. You gently raked your nails down his chest as you murmured the nickname again, “Rafa.”

His eyes shot open and he rutted his hips against yours, mouth pressing wet kisses to your heated skin. His teeth nipped at your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his wake.

He was taking his time with you. Wanting to explore every part of you, taste every inch of your skin, catalogue every detail in his mind.

You whimpered softly, not used to such attention, nor such deliberate slowness. “Rafael, please.”

He looked up at you with his trademark smirk. “You ever been with a Hispanic man before, Cariño?”

You blushed and shook your head.

His smirk widened. “We like to take our time, make sure our lady is properly loved and appreciated. This is about your enjoyment, (Y/N/N), not mine.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself too…”

He kissed you gently. “You keep making those pretty sounds for me, querida, and I promise you, I’ll enjoy myself.”

You found yourself unable to respond as he continued his slow descent towards your core. Each gentle caress of his lips against your skin seemed to set your nerve endings on fire--the need within you growing exponentially.

You whined prettily, hips shifting upwards, desperately seeking his lips where you needed them most. "Please," you begged.

You didn't know it yet, but Rafael would never deny you--not in the real world, nor the bedroom. The moment he heard your soft voice begging, he glanced up at your face. You already looked so far gone--your hair was a mess, your lips swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your breathing was ragged. He smiled to himself as he lowered his head, giving you no time to adjust as he dove into you with abandon.

You gasped as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. As skilled as the man between your legs was in the courtroom, he was even better suited with his mouth hungrily devouring you.

In the span of mere minutes, he'd turned you into a gasping, moaning mess--every one of your senses overwhelmed with feeling.

"Rafa--I--I'm close," you gasped.

He hummed against you, lips wrapping around your clit to increase his assault. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place as he sped up his ministrations.

Your jaw dropped as a flurry of sounds--some of which were intended to be his name--slipped from your lips. Your orgasm sent wave after wave of intense pleasure through your body, but that pleasure soon turned to sensitivity.

"Rafa, too much--" you whispered as you tried to pull away from him.

He laid his arm across your lower belly, effectively holding you in place as his mouth continued to work you. His eyes flicked up to yours to check if you really did want him to stop, but your head was already thrown back, chest rising and falling rapidly as the familiar knot tightened in your stomach.

The moment your cries turned to moans and pleas to continue, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. "Did you want me to stop, querida?"

"No!" you cried loudly, fingers grasping his hair in an attempt to guide him back where you wanted him.

He smirked as he complied with your direction, lips and tongue once again sending you into a spiral of pleasure you'd never experienced before.

As you came down from your second high, Rafael finally slowed his assault and allowed you to pull his head up when it became too much.

He placed soft kisses against your heated skin, gently soothing you as the aftershocks shuddered through your body. His lips traced the curves of your face with gentle affection until your breathing had begun to normalize.

Rafael kissed you deeply, desire evident in the action. In response, your hand slowly descended down his chest and abdomen, until you reached his throbbing cock. You lightly ran your nails across the still clothed member, enticing a groan from the man above you.

You teased him for a few more seconds before sliding your hand beneath his boxer briefs and palming his cock in your warm hand. He groaned loudly--hips rutting against your hand instantly.

"I wanna taste you," you murmured against the shell of his ear.

"You don't have to..." he said softly.

There was something in his voice that caused you to pull away so you could see his face properly. He looked worried and perhaps a little apprehensive.

"But I want to," you reassured him.

"You do?"

You nodded. "It's something I enjoy very much, Rafa, so if you're okay with it, I would really like to suck your cock."

His eyes closed briefly and he moaned softly, forehead dropping against yours. "Por favor," he begged in a broken voice.

You grinned ear to ear. "Stand up."

"Qué?" he asked in confusion.

You nudged him gently and tilted your head towards the edge of the bed. "Stand up, handsome."

He did as you asked and watched in surprise as you lowered yourself to your knees on the floor in front of him. He felt like he needed to remind you again that you didn't need to do this for him, but when he saw the hunger in your eyes, he fell silent.

You slowly dragged his underwear down, freeing his cock from its constraints. You were a little surprised by his size--he was longer than average and quite thick--but surprise quickly turned to hunger.

You looked up at him, a playful smirk dancing on your lips, and all his worries faded away. It was obvious you wanted this...perhaps just as much as he did.

You wasted no time in wrapping your mouth around his cock, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could, eyes never leaving his face.

You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but you pushed past it, determined to provide him with as much pleasure as you could muster.

As you began to move, his fingers intertwined in your hair and his hips stuttered forwards occasionally. You knew what he needed, but it was clear he wasn't going to do it without some prodding.

You pulled off of him with a *pop* and waited until his heavily lidded eyes met yours. "Rafael, I want you to enjoy this."

"I am, cariño," he said in confusion.

"Not as much as you could be." You licked the tip of his cock for emphasis and his hips jumped slightly. "I want you to use my mouth for your own pleasure, Rafa. That's what it's there for."

He shook his head rapidly. He'd been expressly told not to do that by several women before you.

You rubbed his thighs reassuringly. "I want this, baby. Please," you begged. "Please fuck my mouth."

The moment the words were out of your mouth, you sucked his cock back into the warmth of your lips, hoping he would take you seriously. You pressed yourself forward, pushing past the gag reflex to take his entire member into your mouth.

Without hesitation, you began to guide his hips, urging him to give in and take what he wanted--what he needed.

You flicked your gaze up to meet his and nodded your head as best you could, hands still encouraging him to move. He very tentatively began to move his hips and you smiled, fingers digging into his thighs.

When you didn't pull away, he started to put a little more force into the movements. When you still didn't pull away, he sped up, fingers wrapping in your hair to keep you still.

You let him take control, eyes still trained on his face. He slowly began to thrust in earnest, fucking your mouth like it was his favorite place to be. You watched his head fall back, moans of intense pleasure leaving his lips.

You held onto him and focused on breathing as you let him use you. A few minutes passed before his hips began to stutter and you knew he was close.

You prepared to swallow everything he had to give you, but he surprised you by pulling away, your mouth coming off of him with a *pop*.

His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wild--pupils blocking out the brilliant green. "I need you," he said, voice raw and husky.

You understood his meaning and quickly crawled back onto the bed. He was on top of you almost immediately, lips latching onto your neck, teeth nipping at your flesh.

His cock rubbed against the outside of your pussy and you both groaned.

"Fuck," he mumbled. "Do I need a condom?"

"Pill," you gasped as you shook your head. "Wanna feel you fill me up, Rafa."

He let out a low growl and his eyes turned even more feral. He gave you no warning as he plunged his cock deep inside of you, stretching you in ways you'd never been stretched before.

"Rafael!" you cried out at the sensation.

Normally he would have forced himself to give you time to adjust, but his mind was too far gone. He set a brutal pace almost instantly and you were simply along for the ride.

There were so many new sensations that you were having a hard time staying focused. Everything just felt so incredible.

Your pussy throbbed around him, pulling him in even deeper. "Te sienetes muy bien, querida." [You feel so good, sweetheart.]

You moaned loudly, nails digging into his back as you arched against him.

"Te gusta cuando te hablo español, ¿no?" he growled into your ear. [You like it when I speak Spanish to you, don't you?"]

"Yes!" you gasped.

"Chica sucia," he chuckled darkly. [Dirty girl.]

"Rafa, please--I'm so close."

He groaned. "Quiero que vengas conmigo, cariño," he mumbled. [I want you to cum with me, sweetheart.] "Can you do that for me?" he asked in English.

You nodded your head rapidly.

"Esa es mi buena chica," he praised. [That's my good girl.]

You moaned lowly, preening at his praise. He smiled and picked up his pace, not wanting to stop until he felt you fall apart. "So close," he mumbled.

"Don't--stop!"

He knew you were close--could tell by the way your pussy fluttered around him--so he whispered, "Cum for me, baby."

You cried out as your orgasm hit you with more force than either of the two you'd had earlier. Rafael groaned your name as he spilled his seed within you, filling you up as your walls milked him dry.

You both began to come down from your highs, the intensity of your orgasms taking the wind out of both of you. Rafael pulled out and collapsed beside you, completely spent and satiated.

"That was pretty decent," you said between breaths.

He snapped his head in your direction and started to laugh when he saw the mischief in your eyes.

You grinned and joined in on his laughter, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him.

"Very decent," he muttered against your hair.

You laughed again. "'Fucking incredible' would be a more accurate description."

"I couldn't agree more." He sighed softly. "I don't wanna move."

"Who says we have to?"

"We probably should...we do have work in the morning after all."

Your body tensed slightly and he felt it, realizing how his previous statement may have sounded. "I want you to stay, querida. I'm just saying we should probably get up and shower before we fall asleep."

You relaxed. "You may have to carry me."

He chuckled and dragged himself out of bed, pulling you along with him. He scooped you up despite your protests and carried you to the bathroom, placing you on the counter while he started the shower.

"I was kidding, Rafa!"

He smiled. "If my girl can walk immediately after sex, then I did something wrong. I'm always happy to carry you."

You smiled back at him, realizing he was completely serious. You watched him quietly, completely lost in thought.

"Where's your mind, querida?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. "I'm happy...that's all."

Rafael kissed you gently. "Me too, hermosa. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Once you were both clean and dry, he carried you back to his bed and laid you down gently before crawling into the bed beside you. He tugged you in closely against his chest and you sighed contentedly.

"Go to sleep, cariño. I'll be here in the morning when you wake up."

Somehow he seemed to know exactly what you needed to hear. Knowing he wasn't going anywhere and feeling his strong arms wrapped around you, allowed you to feel a calm peace you'd not felt in years.

Within minutes, you'd drifted off to sleep in his arms. Just before he fell asleep too, Rafael kissed the top of your head and whispered, "Te adoro con locura." [I adore you madly.]

#rafael barba x reader smut #rafael barba x reader #barba x reader #rafael barba smut #law and order svu #law and order svu smut

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biteofcherry · 3 months

Note

How would enforcer!Steve handle his girl that is a little weepy, emotional mess from her period? 🥺😭

No but the way I can burst into tears at the drop of a dime and at the most ridiculous thing when I’m on my blood fail lollll. 🫣

Okay, so I know you asked for enforcer!Steve reacting to sweet Cherry's period suffering. He would be the most doting, spoiling and caring. He probably at times would feel a little helpless, like when you cry from ice cream melting too fast, but overall he'd be quite amazing. However, my brain wanted to think more about a different Steve facing your emotional distress during period 🤷‍♀️

Which is why I bring you the dark mafia bastard versus your period tears, that no one asked for 😂 Sorry!

Touch The Darkness

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: Steve being a cocky bastard as usual; annoyingly perceptive too; some period emotional mess

The thing Steve's face does when you suddenly burst into tears over nothing is like a tiktok on acting.

He goes from shock (his eyes widening, nose scrunching slightly) to confusion (frown marring his forehead, corners of his mouth twitching), then through a process of putting together smallest pieces of information and observation.

Finally, he sighs as his face relaxes into this neutral, ridiculously handsome state.

You almost cry from it all over again, because you really like how handsome Steve is, all the while you're still convinced that you should be hating every fiber of his being for eternity.

But since he went after you to your little hiding place and demanded to know what's wrong, you tell him. You hiss the word period and give him a murderous look that suggests he is the one responsible for all women suffering monthly bleeding and pain.

A second later you almost cry again, because Steve doesn't look shocked anymore.

Steve doesn't even cringe when he says the word period. He doesn't look bothered or disgusted by it, which you find quite annoying.

It would be so much easier if the bastard was one of those idiot males, who can't even say the word and they run away at the thought of it.

Instead, Steve tilts his head slightly to the side, scans you from head to toe and back again.

"Then why the fuck are you curled up here and not in bed?" He nods at the old armchair in the library nook, which you never before used, even when reading. It's more of a decoration than comfortable to actually sit in it.

You don't answer him, only glare and pull the two layers of blankets up to your nose.

You're not going to tell him that you love the comfort of the pristine, expensive covers on your marital bed and that while you never minded it at your previous home, you were kind off scared of bleeding on them.

Which is what started this whole thing of you storming into the library - wrapped in two blankets that trailed after you like a train. Because you were about to hide in bed, most excited to find comfort and relax in the lovely soft, clean sheets, when a flash of image of your blood staining it had you bolting out.

It's ridiculous. You never normally cared for such things. Sheets could be washed and changed.

But somehow, this time, you ended up crying and leaving the bedroom.

Steve seems to read your like an open book, despite your complete silence.

"Princess," he sighs, "I've seen plenty of blood. I've been covered in blood an brain matter of my enemies more times than you imagine. Doesn't bother me. Especially not my wife's natural reason for it."

You're about to snap at him that his sensitivities weren't your concern at all, when he continues:

"And the sheets can be changed as many times as needed. I've already ordered three more sets in that cream and gold shade you like the most."

"You know nothing," you glower, but you can feel the heat filling your face.

How the hell did he know that? It's not like you said to him anything on the topic of something so silly like finding the covers pretty and lovely. Which you do.

Steve's mouth curls into a smirk as he leans forward and braces hands on the backrest of the armchair, on both sides of your head.

"Don't think I didn't notice how you curl into a cozy burrito when the cream covers are on and that you stay a little longer in bed. And-" his face inches closer, warm breath fanning your cheek- "that you more often provoke me to have sex outside of bed, so the sheets stay clean longer."

"I do not provoke you to have sex!" You burst, but Steve only laughs as if you told the funniest joke.

Next thing you know, he's scooping you up into his arms - bundled in blankets and all. He carries you effortlessly, not caring for the few protests that you hiss at him.

He takes you to the bedroom and slowly puts you down on your feet on the floor. He rips the blankets away from you then lifts you up again, placing you in bed. On those soft, fresh smelling sheets.

"Now, you want ice cream or something salty? Or maybe an orgasm or two to help with the cramps?"

#Siri #stargazingfangirl18 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #dark mafia!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers x reader #touch the darkness

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eddiesghxst · 9 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 1/12)

yes i have eighty different rockstar!eddie's now, pls don't look at me, i rewatched almost famous and had a moment, k bye, enjoy!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you're a writer for rolling stone magazine and eddie hates the media so... he hates you

contains: enemies to lover trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, and eddie being an asshole <3

word count: 4.5k

| next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

You love your job more than anything.

You love that it allows you to travel, that it’s centered around music, and that you get to meet people and make friends and do extravagant things you would’ve never imagined you’d be doing. You love your job.

“I love my job.” It’s starting to taste like a lie when it reaches your tongue.

You mutter it to yourself again, looking around the bright hallway and searching for any fucking door with the words ‘CORRODED COFFIN’ written on it.

You glance at the watch on your wrist, teeth digging into the soft skin of your cheek as you keep walking down the corridor.

You feel as if you’ve been walking down this hall for years, miles of white stone wall and shiny gray cement floors, equipment littered here and there with staff walking through doors and yelling commands.

You follow the echo of chatter and soft giggles, the sound getting closer and closer until a group of girls meets you. A red-headed girl lazily chews gum and stands against the wall, glaring at you from behind her blood-red shades. You take the chance to ask them your pressing question, “Do you know where I could find the dressing room for Corroded Coffin?” You ask.

The girls glare at you and giggle, eyeing you and, without a doubt judging your lack of fishnets and leather clothing. Brown leather boots, flared jeans, and a white long sleeve— you don’t belong here. “You a reporter or something?”

You look at the redheaded girl, pursing your lips and taking a steady breath, reaching up to grasp the strap of your crossbody bag. “I’m a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine,” you explain, ignoring the snickering girls on the side. You clench the leather band of your bag in your palm, “I’m doing a piece on the band.”

The girl silently studies you; a ghost of a smile passes her lips, “Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You shift on your feet, eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah um… they’re big on music and—“ “I know what Rolling Stone Magazine is.”

You love your job.

You steadily breathe, clenching your bag once again. Your feet ache in these boots, and your jeans are teetering on the cusp of too tight after you ate a quick dinner— you want to go home. “The boys won’t speak with Rolling Stone.”

It falls silent between the two of you, and you glance at the other three girls, huddled together and passing a joint. “They don’t like watered-down shitty tabloids like yours. They won’t want to see you.” The redhead explains, silently reaching over to accept her turn with the joint.

You watch as she brings the burning paper to her lips, taking a long drag and smirking at you. She expects you to take her word and leave, but you’ve dealt with enough people like her to know she’s bullshitting you.

“Could you please point me toward their dressing room?” You ask, reconstructing your previous question because you now understand that, without a doubt, these women know where the dressing room is.

She laughs and points across the hall, some feet from where you’re all standing. You can see the first few letters of the band's name from your angle, and you internally rejoice. You thank her and walk over to the door, mentally reviewing your introduction a few times before laying a few knocks on the heavy black door.

There’s no response for a moment, and you try not to let the snickering sound of the girls tick you off. You lift your hand to knock again, but the door swings open before you can do it. A tall, muscular man glares down at you, dressed in black with a scowl. He must be security.

“Hi, I’m a writer for—“ “Groupies aren’t coming in yet; wait out in the back.”

Your face twists in offense, glaring at the man as you, yet again, clench your fist in annoyance, “I’m not a fucking group—“ The door slams shut before you can finish your sentence.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter to yourself.

You love your job.

The girls snicker behind you, and you feel your face heat in embarrassment and annoyance. Why is nearly everybody in this industry just a bunch of assholes? You figure you’ll just have to wait for the band members to come out, leaning back to press your back against the wall and patiently wait.

From outside, you can hear the chaotic noise of yelling and loud banter from inside the room— the clatter of furniture breaking and thuds against the wall. You remember when behavior like this used to shock you, but artists seem to have reckless behavior nowadays.

The group of girls chatter amongst themselves, and you busy yourself with following the cracks in the floor. You stand there with aching feet and a mental ticking clock for what feels like hours, and you almost give up until the door flies open and three boys stumble out, reeking of alcohol and weed and musk.

You watch as they all brush past you, ignoring you for the group of girls standing across the hallway, cheering their names and draping their arms across their shoulders.

“And who might you be?”

You turn around at the gravelly voice, locking eyes with a glazed pool of brown. The last of the group, the fourth member— and, by what you can piece together given the notorious long dark brown locks dusting his shoulders, Eddie Munson. You clear your throat, stepping forward and telling him your name. You extend a hand for him to shake and ignore how his gaze rolls over every inch of your body.

“I’m a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine,” you explain, retracting your hand when he only glances at the kind gesture. He stands before you, an uninterested smirk dancing against his lips. He’s dressed in black jeans and black leather boots that look worn to hell despite his bottomless pit of a wallet. A black sheer button-down top, fully open to expose his sweat-glistened chest, shiny chains hanging from his neck and kissing his collarbones. His ringed fingers are wrapped around the neck of a half-empty bottle of whiskey, tiny sticky streams of spilled alcohol coating the bottle.

“I’m here to interview your band.” You add.

He laughs, spit-slick lips forming a mocking smile as he speaks, “My band?”

You blink, “Yes, you’re all a band, right?” You motion to the boys, still chatting with the girls across from where you stand, ignoring the sight of one of the members groping a girl as she giggles. “Heavy metal band, Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah, toots, we’re a band,” he lifts the bottle to his lips, speaking over the rim, “But this isn’t my band.” He tips the drink back and gulps down the bitter drink.

You watch as he takes it down without a single twitch of displeasure. You take a deep breath, shifting on your feet as you ignore his smart response, “Okay, well, it won’t be long,” you try to reason, reaching for your bag to dig out your notepad.

“Just a few questions; I won’t take much of your time—” Eddie cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “Listen, princess,” he presses his hand against the wall beside you, using the hand wrapped around the whiskey to gesture as he speaks. “While I’d love to sit and chitchat like a couple of teenage girls, we’ve got two issues here, sweetheart.”

“One,” he raises his index finger, “We don’t do interviews before shows.” He explains as if it’s common knowledge. He lifts another finger, “And two,” he steps closer, a sickening grin spreading across his lips when you step back. “We want nothing to do with your shitty dick-sucking career-crushing poor excuse of a magazine.”

You stare at him, a million different responses churning in your head, and you so badly want to read him to filth, but you really fucking love your job.

“Mr. Munson, I promise you—” “Where are you from?”

What is it with these assholes and cutting you off mid-sentence?

You swallow your pride and answer, “Michigan.” Eddie hums, nodding his head, clicking his teeth as if tasting the state on his tongue. “I’ll tell you this, Michigan,” he bumps the bottle against your shoulder, and you grimace at the drop of liquor that seeps into your shirt. “We’re not doing your shitty piece of a story, but we’ll graciously give you a nice view of the show from the side stage.” He grins, patting your shoulder once and winking.

A staff member passes by you, alerting the band that they have less than a minute to be on stage. You open your mouth to object to his offer, but the boy is downing the rest of the bottle and shoving the bottle into your chest, “Enjoy the show, Michigan.”

You watch in disbelief as he walks off with his band members, the other members not even glancing your way as they holler and cheer down the corridor of the venue. For the 80th time tonight, you clutch the band of your bag and curse to yourself.

Fuckin’ dipshit rockstars.

Against your better judgment, you, again, swallow your pride and watch the show from the side of the stage. You decline any drinks offers, wanting to stay as sober as possible for the interview after the show (if you can weasel one out of them).

Corroded Coffin knows how to put on a show. Each band member works the crowd in ways you have rarely witnessed in this industry— it’s not difficult to see their appeal to the younger generation of music listeners.

None of the members outshine the other; they are all equally in the spotlight, playing their part to create a well-oiled machine of an act. Granted, most of the show is concerningly chaotic; Gareth kicked his foot into his drum set near the end, Jeff smashed the fret of his guitar over the side of an amp, Eddie made out with a fan and Gareth, and the other member you can’t seem to name for the life of you sprayed the front row with multiple bottles of liquor.

It’s chaotic, an endless list of violations without a doubt, but the fans eat it out of the palm of their hands.

You don’t even bother trying to get their attention when they run off the stage, quietly watching from afar as they’re cheered on by VIP fans, managers, and staff. Security rushes them to the green room, where a line of fans waits with various pieces of merchandise to be signed.

You follow, silently taking in the busy scene, saying nothing when you catch a few members stealthily swiping tiny bags of party favors from fans. It’s a movie of never-ending noise and movement, and you’re wondering how they put up with this every night.

You glance at your watch and grunt in annoyance, half past midnight, well past the time you’d hoped to be back in your hotel room.

You stand aside and watch the room as the squealing fans go to each boy, getting autographs and Polaroids to commemorate the moment. Gareth is a flirt, shakes every girl's hand and only lingers for the ones he fancies, gazes into their eyes like they’re the only girl in the room, and smirks when they giggle and lean into his touch. Tells them they’re pretty, compliments their dresses and tops, and gazes at their chest for too long until staff breaks the moment and tells the girls to ‘keep the line moving, ladies’.

Jeff is almost the same, except he’s less performative with it. He’s got a hint of a gentleman in him, thanks each fan for coming, and asks how they liked the show with a sneaky glint in his eyes and a sly smirk. Winks at one of the girls and leans in to whisper something in her ear, something you can’t read from his lips, but later on, you will see them step onto the tour bus together, snickering like sneaky teenagers.

The bass player, the one whose name always slips your mind, has gone off somewhere with a groupie; you watched them slip away from the madness the second he stepped off stage.

And Eddie— Eddie can’t stop glaring at you. Can’t stop looking at you and making you squirm because he wants you gone. He’s got an arm draped around a girl's shoulder, neck craned down to hear what she whispers, and through the chaos of the room and the pretty girl practically pawing at his chest and giggling in his ear, Eddie still manages to find the time to look at you. Curly bangs wet with sweat sticking to his forehead, cheeks rosy and flushed with adrenaline, wide eyes diminished beneath smudged black eyeliner. He looks like an animal, damp and matted, searing gaze dripping with malice.

You almost take the bait and cower.

A hand is placed on your shoulder, breaking your silent staring contest with Eddie as a man steps into your view. He is taller than you, older with lines of age sinking into his skin, glaring down at you over the end of his cigarette as he speaks, “Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You wonder how he was able to pick you out, but your itchy jeans and suffocating boots quickly remind you that you don’t exactly fit into the crowd. You nod, sticking a hand out and telling him your name. “You must be Richie, the manager?” You assume, kindly smiling when he takes your hand with a friendly grip in greeting.

“I’m here to interview your boys. We called this morning,” you remind him. He nods, puffs out a cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth as he speaks, “Yeah, uh… The thing with that is,” he tilts his head to scratch at the stubble on his chin, “I’m not so sure the boys’ll be up for that.”

You breathily laugh, glancing at the boys behind him, ignoring when Eddie glances your way, “Yeah, I gathered that already.”

The man hums, reaching up to pluck the burning paper from his lip, blowing the smoke away from your face before speaking, “Yeah, Eddie’s not too keen on big media. Bad run-in from the past.” He explains. You nod understandingly, “The Face?”

The man nods, taking another hit, “Tore ‘em to shreds.” You nod, crossing your arms over your chest with a breath, “I remember.” He offers you a hit, and you shake your head, kindly waving him off.

“Shitty, you came all this way, though. Where you from?”

You don’t look at him as you respond, too focused on the man across the room, his attention locked in on the fans now that he sees you’re being taken care of— like an unwanted intruder being exterminated. But you’re not an intruder. You’re a journalist, a writer, a listener— and you’re damn good at it.

Before you can thoroughly think about the repercussions, your mouth is running, gaze still locked on Eddie, “I can get them on the cover.”

Richie pauses his rambling at that, pauses the lift of his cigarette to his lips, and looks at you, waiting for you to say it was a joke or something— but it’s not. Your gaze flitters to him, your expression unwavering as you wait for him to respond. “The cover?”

You nod once, watching as he takes one long drag of his cigarette. “We can do one big interview with them all,” you begin, “I’ll tag along for a few shows to gather more on the experience, get a photoshoot booked and have them on the cover for the July issue.” You’re pulling strings, tugging at what sounds enticing and will get you where you need to be. You’re good at your job, you’ve done this before, and you know how to bend things to your will because the rockstars— the rockstars are always easy to break.

Richie glances over his shoulder and grunts, rubbing a hand over his face before turning back to you, “Okay, um,” he sighs and curses under his breath, “Let me see if I can talk them into it, yeah?” He sticks the cigarette between his lips and starts searching his pockets. “We’ve got a residency tour in New York next,” he announces, finally fishing out his wallet and sifting through cards until he finds what he needs. He offers the card to you, “Think you can meet us there?”

You take the card and glance over it before glancing at the boy once again. You nod, and he smiles, “Give me a call when you land; I’ll let you know if it’s a go.”

He leaves without another word, and you stay standing for a bit, rubbing the card between your fingers as you watch the boys meet the last of their fans tonight, Eddie no longer looks your way, and you hope he does for just a split second so he can know— so he can realize that he lost.

You give up when he seems too preoccupied with the girls, stuffing the card in your purse and making your way toward the exit. You’ll have to settle for rubbing it in when you see them in New York.

You spent the better part of your week convincing Anna, your manager, to give you the benefit of the doubt and allow you to pull through with a cover story. Anna wasn’t so excited when you told her you offered them a cover, but Anna is never excited by your ideas; she’s always worried until the final product comes out like a fine piece of gold. Treasure. You create treasure, and Anna knows this, so she finally relents and lets you go through with it— “You better get me the biggest story ever made. Bigger than Madonna.”

You can do bigger than Madonna— and seeing as your subject is four young men at the peak of worldwide fame, ‘bigger than Madonna’ will be a piece of cake.

You grab the hotel phone the second you get in, dialing the number on the creased business card you’d fished out from your bag. Your knee bounces in anticipation, teeth digging into your lip as you listen to each agonizing ring, almost thinking Richie gave you a fake card before finally, the phone picks up, “Hello?” It’s groggy, like he’d just woke up.

“Hi, it’s Rolling Stone Magazine,”

He groans on the other end, and you can hear the rustling of sheets, and you assume he’s sitting up in bed, “Rolling Stone Magazine… Oh— oh, uh… are you here?” He asks. You nod before answering with a short yes.

“Are we on for today?” You ask. He’s silent for a few moments, nothing but sleepy, distant grunts filtering through the speaker. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we’re on just uh,” you pick at the seam of your jeans as you wait for him to finish his thought, “Come to the garden at around three; they’ve got rehearsals, and you can try to squeeze in after.”

You thank him and end the call, placing the phone back on the stand and sighing as you glance around the room. This will be your home for the next month; Anna advised you to stay for the entire residency tour despite your reassurance that you can complete the story in a week— “A big story, birdie. A massive one. A good one. That doesn’t happen in a week.”

So, one month. Twelve shows and thirty days. One month.

Eddie doesn’t like rehearsals.

He thinks they’re stupid and useless and take up too much time of the day when he could spend it doing something else. Could be writing, could be out having fun with the boys and getting high as a kite, could be fucking that redheaded groupie, Lany. He could be doing so many things, but instead, he’s up on stage in an empty arena listening for feedback in the mic and testing the amps for the guitars.

“Let’s do that last track one more time; I think I’m picking up a bit of feedback on you, Gareth.”

Eddie sits down on the edge of the drum riser, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He tilts his head back and blows up toward the beaming lights, squinting at the bright rays and imagining them enveloping him. He closes his eyes and imagines it’s the sun, thinking about Hawkins and the last summers he spent with the gang. Thinks about Dustin and Lucas and Max and Mike. Steve, Nance, and Robin. Thinks about how he hasn’t called or visited in a while, even though he got their card on his birthday.

He feels shitty for not calling home; he itches to make the call now and let them know that he misses them and wishes they could fly out more often to watch the band play. They’re all busy, though; the kids are about to start college— dusted the shit out of high school, which Eddie obviously flew in to watch them walk the stage— and the older half of them are all getting jobs, looking for their next big step in life, and Eddie misses them.

His reminiscent thoughts are cut through with the sharp and loud slamming of the arena door, grasping his attention in seconds. He blinks a few times to get the light out of his eyes, squinting at where the noise came from— and Eddie’s mind is fresh off a joint, so he’s not a hundred percent sure if he’s just envisioning that journalist from the other day or she’s actually here.

He stands up from the drum riser, stepping further into the stage as he watches you walk down the rows of seats; barely acknowledges the stage manager when he asks him to play the riff from track four until Jeff walks into his line of sight, “Come on, man, I wanna get this over with.”

Eddie situates his fingers over the frets of his guitar, watching as you find a seat in the third row and settle in, settling your bag in your lap and holding it to you as you silently watch the crew work the stage. He plays the riff a few times, until they can fix that god-awful ringing noise behind the higher notes, and when they finally wrap up rehearsals, Eddie makes a beeline to the front row where Richie is standing, quietly chatting with a staff member about where he wants the road cases to go. Eddie doesn’t care much for their conversation, steps in, and promptly interrupts, “Why the fuck is that journalist here?”

Richard turns to him and raises his eyebrows, “Sir?”

The staff member leaves as Eddie leans in and points over Richard's shoulder to where you sit, still quietly watching the stage, bright lights illuminating your face like you’re some god-sent fucking angel— and you’re not. Eddie knows you’re not. He sees straight through your friendly act. “The journalist, Richie. Why is she here?” He slowly repeats.

Richie glances at you and looks back at Eddie, “She’s doing a story on the band—” “No, she’s fucking not.”

Richie stares at Eddie, blinks for a silent moment before speaking, “Son,” —and sometimes Richie reminds Eddie of Wayne, and it scares him, “She’s gonna put you on the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine.” Richie points your way. Eddie falters momentarily, mindlessly blinking and shaking his head, “Cover?”

Richie laughs and pats Eddie on the shoulder, “Yeah. The fucking cover,” he says, “so, whether you like it or not, you’re doing the interview. This is what the band needs.”

Eddie shakes his head, curly strands brushing the muscles of his shoulders, “We don’t need a goddamn cover, Richie. We’re not doing a fucking story—” “Yes, you are.” Richie doesn’t mean to make his voice boom through the arena, but it attracts attention either way, and he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose before clapping a hand onto the back of Eddie’s shoulder, turning both away from the stage.

“You’re putting out an album in a few months. You want it to sell, don’t you?”

Eddie clenches his jaw, teeth grinding against each other as he glances over his shoulder, annoyed when he catches you watching— almost smirks when you quickly look away as if you’d been caught red-handed. Despite Eddie’s strong will, he nods because fucking obviously he wants the album to sell— but at what cost?

Richie nods and squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, “Good. Then you’ll do the interview. She’ll be with us for all of New York, so play nice. We need a good piece.” and leaves Eddie with a pat on his shoulder.

Eddie stands there for a moment, gathering himself and trying to cope with the fact that some fucking narc will be on their back for the next month. He doesn’t see or hear you walk up to him until you say his name. The barricade separates you, your fingers gripping the black railing as you stand before him. Eddie’s hands are on his hips, not moving an inch as he looks at you.

“I know you don’t want me here, but I… I’m just doing my job, and if you can cooperate, this will be easier for the both of us.”

And Eddie— god, Eddie can’t fucking believe the audacity.

“Did you fuck Richie?”

He watches you pull back, blinking at him as you stare silently. Eddie tilts his head, eyebrows raising to push the answer from you, “No, I didn’t—” You shake your head and blink hard in confusion, “Why would I—” “Because you want a good story.” Eddie snaps, “Right?”

Because that’s all anybody ever wants from him. A good story. A tale to tell their friends about. Tell them the secrets they pulled from Eddie Munson, tell them about the famous rockstar that fucked them backstage, tell them they know what makes him crack. A good story.

You gape at him, lost and shocked by the sudden confrontation.

You straighten up and tilt your head, eyes growing harsh with anger as you respond, “No. I didn’t fuck Richie. I don’t fuck to get where I want, I pull strings, and I make it work,” you snap, “I treat people with the respect they deserve, and I get what I want. You could learn a few things from that.”

And with that, you’re gone. Leaving Eddie behind with a twisted face of annoyance. He watches you walk over to where Richie is and greet him, but he doesn’t stick around long enough to watch or tune in to the conversation, storming through the arena and grabbing his coat to get in the car and tell the driver to take him to his hotel.

One month. Twelve shows and thirty days. One month.

Eddie can play along, he thinks. How hard can it be?

————

part two

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ashwhowrites · 3 months

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Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x Rockstar! Reader, what if they have to do like a tour together, and they realize that they hate each other, like hate to share the stage, hate to spend time together, until the two of them end up hooking up after some drinks at some bar, then, they find each other being like all nervous with each other, because of what happened and bc they're catching feelings, but they hate each other, right? (You can write a tiny bit of angst for the "hate" part, smut and fluff!)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun with this 🫶🏻 thank you for requesting

We got angst, we got smut and we got fluff

Rockstar love

Y/N was excited as hell when her manager, Samantha, told her she had a summer tour lined up. Y/N was a small independent artist and she couldn't headline a tour on her own, she was grateful for the opportunity to be an opener for one of the biggest artists in the industry, Eddie Munson.

She loved his music and she loved his style. Their writing dynamic was very similar and their music blended well. Even Eddie's manager couldn't pick a better person to open for him.

So Y/N was all packed up and ready for the summer of her life, on tour with someone that she admired. She couldn't possibly think of one bad thing to change her mind.

Well, that was until she met Eddie.

"Hi! I'm Y/N, I'm so ex-" Her introduction was cut off when Eddie's painted nails waved in her face.

"I know, baby. You are so excited to finally meet me, and you're my biggest fan. But I'm in a rush, so why don't you just give me your number and I'll call you tonight?" His smirk was so confident and smug. She couldn't believe he was this conceited.

She scoffed and crossed her arms. "Is that how you talk to women?"

Eddie blinked at her aggressive tone but shook it off. "Women? Nah, that's how I talk to my girl of the night. So interested or not? Like I said I'm in a rush for a meeting." He checked his watch, knowing he was meant to meet whoever his opener was going to be for his tour.

"Not. Nice to meet you, asshole." She gagged and walked off.

This summer started a whole lot worse than she thought.

"Eddie! Glad you made it!" Samantha said with a big smile, no idea Y/N already had a run-in with the man of the hour.

"I'd like you to meet Y/N, she'll be your opener for the tour!" Eddie's eyes switched over to the girl that sat at the table. He choked a little on his spit when he realized it was the girl from outside the building.

"Oh shit, you're my opener?" Eddie asked. He did not make a good first impression.

"I know, baby. You are so excited to finally meet me, but I'm in a rush so can we sign the contract and get a move on?" Y/N said, his words leaving her tongue in a sassy way that Eddie couldn't help but like and hate.

Eddie sent a glare her way but signed the papers.

After the meeting, Y/N was quick to leave. Eddie ran out after her, an apology on his tongue.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry for how I talked to you. Can I make it up to you? Maybe dinner?" Eddie asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

Y/N debated for a while but figured making amends might be better for the summer ahead.

"Dinner is good."

Y/N applied the final touch of her lipstick before she walked out of the small hotel room. Eddie's room across from her. She knocked on the door, waited, and waited.

She huffed when she checked the time and realized she'd been outside his door for five minutes. She gave up and went back into her room, figuring she'd just wait there until he came to her.

But he never did. After two hours, she heard his voice slurring in the hallway as he tried to open his door. She looked out the peephole and saw his arm wrapped around another girl.

She gave up on him immediately.

~~~

Half the summer was sour, they hated to be in the same room with each other. She knew she had a right to be pissed, but Eddie didn't. He hated her because she hated him. He never bothered to apologize or admit he was a selfish asshole. And that's all she wanted.

"Can you stop moving off your X? It's there for a reason!" Y/N snapped, she groaned as they had to stop rehearsal, yet again.

"I'm a rockstar! I'm meant to move around!" Eddie argued. He wasn't used to sharing the stage and he hated it.

"I'm one too! And in case you haven't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine on my X!"

"You want a fucking gold star for being boring? Difference between an opener and the main show" Eddie snapped, Y/N didn't fight back. She just growled and began the song again.

"Y/N, THAT WAS SO GOOD!" Samantha cheered as Y/N walked off the stage. The first night of your was in the books and Y/N loved the way she felt on the stage. The crowd seemed to like her and she felt like she got them pumped for Eddie's set.

Even though she hated him, she looked his way for approval. After all, she was his opener and cared what he thought about his tour.

"Why the hell are you looking at me?" He asked, his guitar strapped to his body as he waited for his cue.

"I don't know. Just maybe thought you'd like to share your thoughts?" She said, a little shy that she had to admit she wanted to know.

Eddie was taken aback by the nervousness in her eyes, for once she looked vulnerable and not ready to shoot fire. But he couldn't give in, the hatred between them was too powerful and he refused to give in first when she chose to be a bitch towards him.

"I've seen better, you're nothing special." He shrugged and jumped on the stage as his cue was hit. The screams of the arena sounded muted as his words rang in her ears.

She marched off into her dressing room. She didn't bother to watch his set. Unlike him, she can admit when someone has talent and he doesn't deserve her compliments. Instead, she focused on the anger she felt and put it into a song. If he wanted special, she'd show him special.

Within a week, she finished the song and began performing it. It was full of anger and the crowd loved it. The music was loud and it shook the whole place.

Eddie knew the song was about him. She stood there, banging on her guitar as she swore about the big-headed men in her life. He was pissed, it was his tour and here she was bad-mouthing him to his fans. The fans didn't know it was about him, they just related it to a man in their life. But still, he didn't take the disrespect lightly.

And she didn't care. Ever since that first show on tour, she never asked for his thoughts again. She'd get off stage, place down her guitar, and walk straight to the dressing room.

It bothered Eddie that she never sat to watch his set, but he refused to let her know that he cared.

~~~

About a month and a half into the tour, they barely spoke. And if they did, it was to tear each other apart.

But when Y/N's new song was officially released and hit the radio, the crew wanted to go out to celebrate. And to her shock, Eddie showed up.

"I'd like to make a toast!" Y/N slurred, already a few shots in and the alcohol was taking over her body. The table raised a glass, and Eddie rolled his eyes. He might have been a little irritated by all the success she earned from a song that was about him.

"...and thanks to Eddie, the man who inspired the song. Thanks for being an asshole and treating me like shit. Cheers!"

Eddie bit his tongue as he took the shot in front of him, he didn't want to make a scene in a public place. He knew better than that. There would be cameras everywhere.

As the night went on, the more drunk she and Eddie became. The crew called it a night and left. Bad move to leave them alone.

"You know that I can't fucking stand you sometimes." Eddie hissed, trying to ignore the way her lips were wet and glossy from all the drinks she had.

"Yeah, I got the message." She laughed sarcastically. She hated how he got hot and had to throw his hair in a bun. With stupid curls hanging down to frame his perfect face.

"Why did you write the song? Just knew making money off me would be a career move?" He argued, the venom on his tongue was strong and she knew a fight was brewing.

"Oh fuck off. I'm going to the bathroom." She said as she rolled her eyes and walked off.

But Eddie was too mad to let it go. He followed her into the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

"Are you crazy!? This is a bathroom!"

"Answer my fucking question!"

"Yes, Eddie. It was a career move! You were a complete dick the second I met you and looked down on me all because I was an opener! I was grateful for the opportunity and now I realize, you are a selfish prick who only cares to get his dick wet." Her words were knives and perfectly sliced into Eddie's skin. Her eyes are dark as she gets in his face. Every word against his lips as he puffed and huffed.

The fire in his body with all the anger he felt. She stood tall and confident. Right in his face with no care in the world. Her lip snarled and her eyebrows scrunched.

"Jealous or something baby?" He smirked, he noticed the flicker of lust in her eyes before she remained unbothered.

"Of what?" She sneered

"The girl I took to my hotel room instead of you." His smirk was a target and she wanted to smack it off his face. He knew she was waiting and watching. And he had the nerve to never once apologize.

"Not. I like to end my nights with an orgasm." She said with a bitter smile, her hand reached behind him to grab the door but the growl that left his lips made her stop.

She looked up into his eyes and knew she struck a nerve. And she couldn't help but feel how wet her underwear became.

Before she could say another word, insult, or make a noise, his hot mouth was on hers. His hands dived into her hair as he took over her body. His tongue was in her mouth before she could blink. And she hated how easily she moaned.

Her body was against the sink as his hands scrammed to take off her jeans. He pulled away to unbuckle his belt and yank down his jeans, she took a second to catch her breath and remove her shirt. Her head against the mirror as his mouth attached to her chest, his teeth biting down on the flesh as she whined out.

She wasn't thinking, and she knew that. But his mouth felt so good and her cunt ached.

"Is that what this has always been about? Jealous I wasn't fucking your cute cunt?" Eddie teased, and he pulled away his mouth, which allowed her to understand his words.

"No, it's not. You were a dick the second I met you, and discredit me because I'm younger and newer to the industry. Don't flatter yourself." She scoffed. He was so big-headed and she couldn't believe he still didn't understand where he went wrong. "plus I wouldn't care about the girl if I wasn't waiting for you for dinner." She barked out. The hatred and anger filled her body again. Almost like it reminded her why she shouldn't be doing this. She pushed him back and reached for her shirt.

"Oh come on! Don't take it so personally. I forgot we had plans, okay?" He tried to defend but she was already throwing on her shirt.

"Forgot? Or decided that getting a quick fuck meant more?" Maybe in a way, she was hurt by the fact he completely shoved her off for someone else. She liked Eddie, and she always found him attractive and it sucked to meet him and see he was nothing like she thought.

"DO YOU WANT ME TO ADMIT THAT? Would that even make it better?" He laughed out, he couldn't believe it was even a big deal. "if I sat here and told you straight to your face that I wanted some wet pussy wrapped around me instead of sitting at a dinner with you, that make it BETTER? Huh?"

She shouldn't care, she really shouldn't. They weren't even friends and she had no reason to feel the burning jealousy in her stomach that someone got to spend the night with him when it was supposed to be her. She hated that no matter how much he made her hate him, she still felt something pulling her towards him.

She didn't have words, and she wasn't sure how to respond.

All she wanted was an apology

"Because that pussy was the best I've ever had and I don't regret it." He seethed out, and that struck a nerve in her. Apart from the jealousy and stupid high school games, he felt she wasn't worth apologizing to. She realized she'd never get that apology.

This time, she did go to smack the smirk off his face. Her right hand was high in the air as she aimed for his cheek, but his hand caught her. A deadly look in his eyes. They were breathing hard into each other's faces. She felt her cunt pulse, and he felt his cock pulse in his boxers, his jeans still on the floor.

She whimpered as he took control, again. He kept his grip on her arm, turning her around and pressing his cock against her ass. He held her arm behind her back, she was trapped between him and the sink.

No words were said, both relieving their aches as his free hand ripped off her underwear. The sound made her clench, then his fingers were inside of her. She moaned as he didn't care to be soft or gentle. Three fingers deep inside her cunt as his cock pressed against her ass. She moaned out and her head was thrown back into his shoulder.

His hand let her arm free, and she moved it to grip the sink, his fingers pumping inside of her. He was skilled, experienced, and knew exactly how to hit the right spots. Her head was fuzzy as she got lost in the feeling. With his free hand, he grabbed her chin and turned her head towards him. Her eyes closed in bliss as his lips touched hers.

His fingers moved faster inside of her as his lips tasted her. He felt the moan in the back of his throat as she clenched around him. His stomach flipped when her warm tongue worked inside of his mouth. He growled as her tongue dominated his.

The aching in his boxers became too much, he removed his fingers, smirking as she whined at the lost touch. But he was quick to fill her again, but this time with his pulsing cock. She moaned as she fucked into her. Nothing about it was romantic. It was heavy breaths, growls, moans, and the sound of their skin smacking. Her nails dug into the sink as he destroyed her. His mouth was on hers again as he moved his hips against her, loving the way she clenched around him. Her knees were weak when his fingers began to rub her clit.

She couldn't focus on anything except that burning feeling in her stomach and the build-up of her orgasm.

"Eddie." She squeaked, her hands moved up her body and reached behind her, feeling him underneath her fingertips.

"Shh, I know, baby. Let it go. I got you. Cum for me, gorgeous. Be right here." He said softly, she didn't think she'd ever heard him sound so sweet. She nodded as she gasped, letting herself go. She shook on his cock as she came. The relief she felt from every aching part of her body vanished.

She hissed as he slipped out of her, but she was fast to wrap her hand around him. Jerking him off as she looked in the mirror ahead. His forehead was against her shoulder as he breathed hard. His hands gripped her hips and he moved his hips to her rhythm.

"Watch yourself." She said, her tone demanding. He looked up, his blown-out lustful eyes took in their reflection. The sight of her hand wrapped around his red cock made his thighs shake.

He kept his eyes on her reflection as he painted the sink and her hand with his cum. He panted hard as she needed him off through it.

She washed off her hands and got dressed. Awkwardly handing Eddie his clothes.

He silently grabbed the jeans from her hands and put them on. He watched as she dressed herself.

"I'm, um, I'm sorry for the way I treated you and for ditching you," Eddie whispered, not to her but to the floor.

"Thanks, Eddie." She said, and she meant it. She knew that's all she would get. She gave him a small smile and walked out.

Where the hell do they stand now?

~~~

After that event, things between them got blurry. They found themselves feeling something different. Almost like they got out every bit of anger inside of them. Like the anger was just the first layer. And now other feelings were being revealed.

Y/N couldn't help but notice she was putting more work into her appearance. More makeup touches and asking for more sexier clothes for when she performs. She almost felt like she wanted Eddie's eyes on her all the time. Because she couldn't help but have her eyes on him.

Eddie couldn't help but stare whenever she was near. It was like his eyes automatically found her in the room and he couldn't get enough. He noticed things about her that he didn't see at first. He always found her attractive, but now it was deeper than that. He found a new favorite thing about her every day. He started watching more of her performances and found the compliments slipping off his tongue.

The air changed between them. Now they were nervous and didn't know what to say. They didn't talk about what happened but both wished that the other still thought about it.

They tried to ignore how nervous they were and how awkward it made things. Y/N felt like they both needed to talk about what happened to either go back to normal or discuss what was next for them because this situation was too weird.

It was nearly midnight when they made it back to the hotel after their show, Eddie went to head into his room when Y/N spoke up.

"Do you think we could talk?" She asked, the shakiness in her voice made it clear she was nervous.

"Uh sure," Eddie said, his nerves kicked in as he unlocked the door.

She followed behind and took a seat on the bed. He removed his shoes and then took the spot next to her. His shoulder against hers as he waited for her to speak.

"About the thing that happened," she started, already hating the conversation. Eddie coughed awkwardly as he stared at his hands. "I'm just going to be fully honest and I can leave right after. But, it hasn't left my head. I know it was full of hatred and anger. And it probably didn't mean anything and I didn't think it would. But it almost feels like I let out all that anger and now I'm left with other feelings." She admitted, slowly looking towards him to read his expression.

"What kind of other feelings?" He asked, he turned his head to look at her. He hoped she meant the same feelings he'd been feeling. The feeling of wanting each other again. And maybe wanting each other always.

"Feelings like that I like you and my stomach hurts when I think about all the girls in the crowd that want to go home with you." She admitted, looking down at her own hands as she blushed.

She was surprised when Eddie reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. He reached over and used his pointer finger to tilt up her chin. Her eyes looked into his as she anxiously waited for him to speak.

"I tend to be a dick so girls want anything to do with me after sex. But, I'm fucking grateful to hear you still like my dumbass." He joked, a smile on his face as she laughed. "Even though we had sex out of anger, there was something so real there and it hasn't left my mind. The way you pulled so much emotion out of me. I've never had someone do that. I like you too, and I'd like a chance to take you on a date and treat you the way you always should have been treated."

She felt her heart skip at his words, and a feeling of excitement bubbled in her stomach.

"I'd like that." She said as she tried to bite back her smile.

"Perfect, let's go right now." He said he stood up with their hands still laced.

"What? Right now! It's midnight!" She argued, her eyes looking to the clock.

"Don't care. I'm not wasting a second to take you out. The world is asleep, let's go have our fun before it wakes up ." He said with a wink, smiling as she stood up and together they ran out of his room like idiots.

Maybe the summer was finally looking up.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

248 notes · View notes

httpdollie · 8 months

Text

— ADDICTION

GETO SUGURU X FEM! READER

content warning: she/her pronouns, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink, established relationship, jealous! geto, insecure reader, geto is obsessed with his gf and wants to prove it to her, Geto is business man. this is my first time writing smut T^T

never thought my first post on a new account would be smut, this is so bad i’m sorry ToT

Geto knew you were mad at him, he was late two times in the past week to your dates due to being held back by his friends. Not just the typical 20 minute lateness, but the kind of late that had you questioning if he was even coming cause you’ve waited an hour already. The first time you forgave him and he promised to make it up to you, but the second time, you barely said anything which made it very obvious that you were hurt. You were the talker in your relationship and he couldn’t handle the silence from you.

He knew how you hated it when Gojo would suck him into hanging out for another hour, he already has an insane schedule with work and the fact he worked with Gojo made you even more bitter. There’s also the fact that Gojo loves drinking with women who love men like him and your boyfriend. Of course it irritated the hell out of Geto, but it didn’t help that his best friend also happened to be his boss. He spent most of his time thinking about rotting in bed all day with you in his arms (or his face on your tits).

Geto was desperate for you. When he met you two years ago, he was and still is completely enchanted by you. He was 3 years older than you, you had met at your job, at a cafe across the street from his job. He’d come everyday and became your regular who was unable to say anything outside of his order. It was you who made the first move.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You asked quietly while handing his coffee to him. At this point he had been coming to this cafe for three months and had never brought anyone with him. He smiled before telling you he was single. That day he thanked the universe for divine intervention cause he had foot in mouth syndrome because of how cute your smile was every time you told him to ‘have a good day’. Once you started dating he felt like he was walking on a cloud, your presence drowning him in a bliss he never knew he could feel before.

Then he got swamped with work over summer, and now you were mad at him.

Now he was on his way to pick you up from a girl night with your friends. He walked into the club with keys in hand to see you sitting near the bar with your friends on one side of you and some random guy on the other, talking up a storm with you, before he put his arm on your shoulder.

Geto felt his heartbeat pick up in an unsettling way. He watched as you push his hand off your shoulder and give him a disgusted look and flipping your attention back to your friends. He grinned to himself with pride. As he looked at you he bit his lip nervously before walking up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. He felt you jump up at first before sighing with relief upon realizing who it was.

“You ready to go baby?” He said, kissing your cheek softly, staring intensely at the guy next to you with dead eyes, watching him shift uncomfortably in his seat. You nod giving him a weak smile, grabbing your purse off your chair and standing up. “Do any of them need a ride?” He asks softly, letting go of you. Now noticing your friend are watching him, some glaring.

“Uh no, their cab is on the way, they live together.” Making him nod and allowing you to say your goodbyes before you head out to his car and head your way home. In silence.

As Geto drives he feels guilt eating away at him. Staring at you every red light he hits. Minutes upon minutes of tension filled air and his gawking.

“Stop staring at me and pay attention to the road.” You spoke suddenly, making lips curl into a grin

“I can’t help it when you look so pretty.” He replies back, watching to turn away from him, making him chuckle at your flustered self. He takes a deep breath and rests his hand on your thigh, softly rubbing your inner thigh with his thumb.

“Look Y/n, i’ve been an ass recently and i’m sorry, you’re my priority and I haven’t been treating you as well as I should’ve and I wanna make it up to you.” He said, his eyes focused on the road as the light was green but his hand remained gently rubbing you, assuring you that you have his attention. “I’m going cut my hours back at the office, hire some new people so i have more time with you princess.” He continued, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze

“I forgive you Geto… it’s just that I really liked you for a long time before we started dating and I just… I get scared sometimes that i’m not enough.” You said quietly, making Geto’s heart twist in his chest. He turns the corner into your neighbourhood, pulling into the driveway and immediately unbuckling once he’s parked.

“Y/n, I promise you are all I want, all that I need, baby I think about you basically every second so please don’t think you’re not enough for me.”

He rests his hand on your cheek before pulling you into a hug. “Y/n… I’m so in love with you, it drives me crazy, ’m so sorry I made you feel like that.” He pulls away and kisses your face, feeling the tears on your face, he gently wipes them away. “I love you so much.” He kisses your lips, this time moving his hand from your check to the back of your neck. He starts off kissing you slowly, feeding into the tenderness of the moment.

As you kiss, he entices a moan out of you, making him eager to kiss you with more passion. Feeling your hands gently tug at his hair tie, letting his soft locs loose, gently running your hands through it, he sighs softly into your mouth as you play with his hair. He bites gently on your lip, using the moment you gasp as a moment to deepen the already intense makeout. He slides his tongue in your mouth, tilting your head back, kissing you with fevour.

“Wanna go inside?” You smile, finally pulling apart.

The second you’re in the house, Geto pushes you against the door, his hands roam from your face, down your body, caressing, groping and toying with you as he kisses you. He slaps your ass, grabbing the fat of it, to make you gasp and giggle before he follows you into your bedroom. Immediately moaning excitedly as you kiss him feverishly. He smiles into the kiss, pulling away, chuckling as your lips try to follow his.

“Can I touch you princess?” Your dark hair lover asks as he hand with the bottom of your dress.

“Please.” He swears your voice alone could makes him hard.

“Please what baby?” He grins, watching your needy expression

He teased you pulling up the front of your dress, his hand quickly cupping your pussy, making you whimper. While one hands on your pussy, the other is on your neck, tilting it to give him access to your neck, biting and nipping at the soft skin. His hand slowly teases your clit through your panties. rubbing your clothed pussy slowly making a wet spot form as he toyed with you.

“You need to use your words princess.” He said into the kiss, smiling at your pouting reaction. “I’ll give you what you want baby, you just need to tell me what it is.”

“Please touch me daddy.” You beg, face down avoiding his gaze. He takes his hand off your pussy, smiling when he wears you whimper. He uses both hands for make you look at him.

“Good girl.” He praises you, kissing you before you can look away.

Geto unzipped the back of your dress, slipping the flimsy straps off your shoulders, letting it fall of you and pool onto the floor. He breaks the kiss, letting you step your dress and sadly your panties. Watching him frown before commenting on how he found them “cute,” watching you roll you eyes at him sarcastically before he pulled you by the waist before leveling himself to your body. His hands made their way to your boobs, leaning his head down to kiss your neck, moving down your soft skin, bringing his face to your tits before he gently pinched your nipple, making you squeak

“Geto, be nice,” you pouted, hands tugging at his hair in retaliation, causing him to smirk.

“Of course I‘ll be nice baby, gonna show you how much I love you.” He replied, continuing kissing your chest. Looking up at you seductively as he sucked on you nipple watching you start to breath heavier, his has travel to you ass, grabbing it roughly.

You feel his long fingers slide down your body, making you shiver as he backed you up onto the bed, making you sit on the edge. He settles between your legs, dragging his finger slowly up your thighs, making you bit your lip in anticipation. He places soft kisses on your thighs, using his hands to feel you up.

“Such a pretty pussy you have for me.” He cooed, finally kissing your pussy softly. Using his hands to pull your hips closer to his mouth. He gave light kisses before they turned into slowly licking up your pussy.

He pulled his shirt off, watching you practically drool over his body making him chuckle. He quickly laid back.

He smirked as he felt you roll your hips into his face, chasing your own high. He laid his tongue flat on your pussy, hands on your ass as he encourages you to ride his face. His nose rubbing your clit as you move your hips pathetically against him. He quickly holds your hips as you whimper loudly, moaning his name out louder and louder telling him how badly you want to cum. He latched his tongue around your clit, sucking intensely as you cum on his face, cover his mouth before he quickly laps it up.

“Oh my god! Ahh— fuck!” You squirmed in his face, hands gripping his hair as you try to pull his mouth off. He continues his assault on your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, feeling your legs lightly tremble around his head, . His grip on you tightens as he moves your hips, making you ride his mouth and nose again. He feels you nails scratch at his scalp, making him groan; the noise vibrating against your pussy as he toys with your wet little cunt.

Geto loved the look on your face as he held your thighs down, securing your spot on his face, viciously devouring you. Your whimpers and moans stir his cock as he detaches his mouth from you, making you cry out.

“Aww, you’re so sensitive princess,” he smiled as he mocked you taking two of his fingers, slowly rubbing ur on your puffy slit. “I’ve only been eating your cute little pussy and you’re all fucked out, how cute.” He purred, using his thumb to rub small but fast circles on your clit, watching you try fighting your upcoming orgasm. He slowly slips is tongue in and out of your hole, before switching with his fingers. He slips his thick middle finger slowly into your tight cunt, while he starts sucking on your clit, feeling you jerk your hips unwillingly every now and then while crying and moaning. He slides in a second finger, picking up the pace as he pumps his fingers in, curving them inside you, hitting your spongy spot. You feel you toes curl as repeatedly thrusts into you. Feeling a cool in your stomach slowly tighten.

One of your hands hit the wall, holding yourself up as your boyfriend continues to lick and suck on you til you cum undone on his face once again. Your legs trembling again, panting as you lean against the wall. “It’s too much daddy,” you breath out, legs shaking around him. He looks at your fucked out face and smiles at you. He taps your thigh, letting you move off his face before he repositions you, spreading your legs. He shifts in the bed, slipping out of his pants and boxers, joining his shirt in the floor before resting between your legs again. He doesn’t even bother opening the nightstand to get a condom. He lifts your legs over his shoulder and leans down, rubbing his long, thick cock along your sensitive hole.

“You wanna cum for me again princess?” He looks at you with his eyes half lidded eyes, his long dark hair framing his face, making him look all the more sexy. You give him a nod and he shakes his head, slowly moves his cock along your pussy, watching your face as you become needy for him to touch you again.

“I wanna hear you use your words baby, tell me what you want.” He teases as he picks up the pace, rubbing himself faster along your folds.

“Please daddy… I want your cock so bad.” You bite your lip trying to suppressing a moan, but failing miserably when your boyfriends hands trails up your body, caressing your boob as he teases your pussy. “Geto please fuck me! I want your cum in me so bad!” You whine, moving your hips trying to get more pressure.

He couldn’t handle his own teasing at this point, with the way your whine for his cock, makes him want to cum on the spot. His perfect little girl was begging for him, who was he to deny her?

He presses his lips into a her neck, kissing and sucking on her soft skin as he slowly presses his length into her. His eyes roll back at the feeling of her tight, wet, cunt making him bite his lip trying to stifle a moan.

“Fuck—you feel so perfect baby.” He breathes deeply, slowly rolling his hips into yours. “This pussy is all fucking mine.” He said as he peppered your neck with kisses, picking up the pace as he pleased you. “Say it princess.” He demanded, as his thrusts into you.

“I’m yours daddy! It feels ‘so good,” you pant out as he continues his assault on your pussy. “I love you so much! Fuck daddy please make me cum!” Geto pulls way from your neck, watching you close your eyes as he rolls in and out of you. He smiles before kissing your lips, increasing his speed as he plows into you. Your legs roll off his shoulders and you quickly wrap them around his hips, making pull away and grab your hips, lifting your lower back off the bed as he thrusts into you at this newfound angle, making your walls clench around him as the presses his head into your cunt.

“Feels so fucking good.” He groans, moving your hips along his thick cock. He thrusts into your hips, making you met as he uses you like a fucktoy. You unintentionally clench around him, making his grip on you tighten as you watch him groan loudly. Swearing and praising you as he plows into you roughly.

“I fucking love this pussy. Oh! Fuck— baby tell me you love me pretty girl.”

“I love you so much daddy! You feel so good inside me!” You scream out, feeling him pick up the pace while he tell you how good you make him feel.

He quickly pulls out, and sits beside you before helping you into his lap, holding the small of your back against himself. He rubs his cock along your clit, rubbing it with this pink head before looking up at you with a doped out smile.

“Lemme take care of you baby— oh fuck…” He sighs heavily, grabbing your ass as he slowly helps you ride his cock. Each thrust pulling almost all the way out before quickly thrusting in deep, pressing his hips hard into you, making you gasp and groan sharply as he abuses your puffy pussy. He snakes one hand in front, putting his thumb against your swollen bud. He smirks to himself as he feels your legs shake as he starts rubbing your clit again. “You look so pretty like this princess. Nice and pretty getting fucked stupid on daddy’s cock.” His mocking stirs something inside you, causing the tightened in you stomach to bundle up as he played with your pussy relentlessly.

“Daddy- ah fuck! I’m gonna cum!” You cry out, his pace with his thumb and hips quicken as you try to hold on from cumming so quickly; your boyfriend clearly thinking otherwise. “Oh god- ‘its too much!” You squeak out as you feel yourself losing breath coming up on your high. Geto thirsting deep inside you, holding you in place as you squirm on his dick, taking in your reaction as you cum all over him. Feeling your body slump against him as you try to catch your breath.

“You did so good pretty girl” He coos at you, gently placing both hands on your ass, gliding your over sensitive pussy on his cock, making you whine out.

“Too much daddy, ‘m so tired.”

“Thought you wanted daddy’s cum in you, princess?” He teases, slowly helping up and down on his cock. “I think I deserve to knock you up after all.” Feeling your pussy twitch at your words. he smiles up at you, his dark lust filled eyes staring into yours. “What do you think princess? You want daddy’s cum in you?”

“Yes daddy!”

“Good fucking girl, ‘gonna breed this tight little pussy! Oh- ffuck, gonna get this pussy pregnant!” He smiles lazily at you, practically limp on his body as his shoving his cock into you, getting faster and faster with each thrust. Sweat dripping down his face as he slams into your pussy like his life depends on it

“Please cum in me daddy! Need it so bad” You say into his ear, arms wrapped around his neck, hands tangling into his hair as he uses your pussy like a flashlight to get him off. Slapping your ass every and then to make you gasp and cry out. You feel his cocky twitch as his thrust get harder and harder, pushing deeper into your gummy walls. Room filled with nothing but your moans and the sound of slapping skin.

“This pussy is fucking— mine.” He groan out, kissing and biting your neck, as he bottomed out before thirsting harshly, making his cock press deeper than ever, make your vision go blurry and your toes to curl as you forcefully came on his cock as he pumped your pussy full of his cum.

“It all leaked out baby…” He said with a grin. “If we’re knocking you up we need to make sure it sticks.” He clicks his toungue on his teeth, showing fake disappointment. “I guess we’ll need to go again right princess?” He asks feign innocence with a dark look in his eye.

#geto suguru x reader #getou suguru #getou smut #geto suguru smut #getou suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #geto suguru #getou suguru smut #jjk fanfic #— dolly writes #— dolly’s dark thoughts 💭

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 9 months

Text

I was just thinking about how I apparently have the same taste in women as my dad. Can you imagine Steve finding out his parents have a lavender marriage? Also, imagine him flipping his lid when he realizes his dad's taste in men kind of looks like Eddie and his mom's taste in women kind of look like Nancy. Robin, who found out at the same time, was there too. He turns to her.

"Robin!" He squeaked. "I have the same taste in people as my parents!"

Meanwhile, Robin is on the floor laughing her ass off. She sat up for a moment, gasping for breath as tears came, and pointed at him. She collapsed back on the floor, still pointing.

"Robin! This isn't funny!" Steve squawked.

"It's a little funny," Eddie said, snickering.

Oh, yeah, Eddie was there too.

"Eddie, if my dad was younger, he would go for you!" He yelped.

"And I would be very flattered, but baby, you're the only Harrington I want," Eddie replied. "There's nothing to be jealous of."

"I'm not jealous! I'm freaking out!" Steve said. "We. Have. The. Same. Taste."

John Harrington came waltzing into the living room, whistling.

"You want a scotch, son?" John said. "A nice glass of scotch always calms me down."

"No, I do not want a scotch, dad," Steve bitched at him. "I hate scotch."

"See, now, there's something," John said. "Your mother and I both love scotch. We don't have exactly the same tastes. Now, if you want to, you can have the house to yourself. There's a nice bar in Indie your mother and I like to go to."

"Is it the one with all the goofy shit on the walls?" Eddie asked.

"Yes!"

"Robin and Steve like to go there too!" Eddie said, and Steve slapped a hand to his face.

"Well, we're just going to get out of your hair. Edward, don't get my son pregnant. His mother isn't ready to be a grandmother yet," John said and walked out of the room, waving at them.

"I LOVE your dad," Eddie cackled.

"I thought you said that I had nothing to worry about," Steve scowled and threw a pillow at him.

"You know, your mother kind of looks like Robin," Eddie said, scrunching up his nose.

"Does this mean that we're destined to have a lavender marriage of our own and have a turkey baster baby too?!" Robin exclaimed with a gasp. "Because I'm telling you right now I am not pushing your big headed baby out of my vagina!"

"Well, if you give me your gender, Buckley, I would gladly do it myself!" Eddie exclaimed. "It's really very selfish of you."

Robin glared mockingly at him before hitting him with a pillow, which resulted in a pillow fight. Steve rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington's parents #they're decent in this scenario #steve has good parents au #robin buckley #steve & robin #platonic with a capital p #platonic soulmates #stranger things ficlet

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liaarxse · 9 months

Note

tr boys when y/n has issues accepting that they actually do love her

Yesterday, today and tomorrow

Characters: Nahoya Kawata, Manjiro Sano, Kazutora Hanemiya

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of angst in Kazutoras part

A/n: Literally pulled out the biggest smile when I saw this request. Also, yes, Nahoya again. I just love writing for him. idk why (cuz he a crackhead)

P.s: Remember, it was said multiple times that Toman doesn't hurt women, sunshines. Don't think they'd break your precious hearts. They'd be just a bit hard to deal with <3

—NAHOYA KAWATA

Okay, we've all seen that one best/worst boyfriend chart our friend Ken Wakui made.

Personally, I threw a fit when I saw who were the worst.

Then I thought about Nahoya. He seemed a bit like a fuck boy, you get what I mean? Yeah, no.

Then I thought about it again

I examined the post a bit more after I found it in English and read what Takemichi said. If Mikey and Kazutora would be the top worst because they're reckless, Nahoya would obviously be even tamer

So personally, I believe Nahoya is in the top three just because he has a carefree type of living way. Like, he isn't scared of fighting, killing, and all. I mean, he probably IS scared to kill but doesn't show it.

How's he a red flag again? I don't believe them.

But for one, he'd never cheat on you. He'll be loyal as hell. Maybe if he wasn't in a relationship in one of the time skips where it showed the top members he'd fuck around with chicks (straight hair grown up Nahoya gives me fuckboy energy), but since the change and he's now working with his brother In their ramen shop? Get that thing out of your head.

Because for him to get in a relationship, he must dearly love and respect you.

Keep in mind that he also has to trust you since, in one way, if you're not to be trusted and/or are somewhat dangerous, he's putting his brother in danger as well.

But that's besides the point.

He loves you.

It's painfully obvious

He protects you, he trusts you, he spoils you in his own ways

He loves you

Maybe it's past relationship trauma that causes you to think it's all a facade

Which brings us to today's scenario

You're in Nahoya's room since his brother is out all day and you didn't bother to fix yours

You were looking around his room while he was testing the new straightener you got him since his broke

Examining the objects around you, your eyes land on a frame right above his toman uniform. It was of you two

You wondered why he would frame such a picture on the wall over his gang uniform. You mostly didn't like it because you hated the way you came out in the picture

Getting off his bed, you walked over to the opposite wall and stared at the picture for a good minute

Nahoya noticed that from the reflection on the mirror in front of him, but his smile just grew a tad bit more and returned to straightening his hair

You pursed your lips together in thought and reached to grab it

"Oi!" He exclaimed with a giggle. "Hands off."

You flinched when he suddenly spoke and turned to him with a raised brow

"What? Why?"

"Because," He turned around to face you. "I know you'll throw the pic away."

You weren't going to lie. If you stared at it for a bit more, you would've made the paper rip itself. You hated how you came out!

"But I look horrible!"

"I know." He laughed, but it quickly died down to a chuckle when he saw you glaring at him. "I'm kidding, babe. You look hella cute!"

You quickly turned around to hide the blush that appeared on your face. Crossing your arms, you were still staring at the picture

Being too caught in the act, you didn't realize when Nahoya finally finished straightening his hair and came up to you. He loosely wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, mockingly copying your slightly frustrated face

You noticed that and rolled your eyes with a soft groan, which earned you some snickering from him. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before nuzzling his own to yours

"Why did you frame this?"

"Because it's special."

"How is it special?" Your voice grew confused. It's just a picture, nothing much

"Reminds me of the main reason I never give up."

Your blood went cold. What?

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're my main priority, babe. You, your safety, your smile." He chuckled at how cheesy he sounded. "That's why I framed us right over my gang uniform. Every time I have to change for a brawl or even just a meeting, I'm reminded of the smile that will greet me in the end and will always be there."

That didn't sound like Nahoya. For a moment, you even thought if that wasn't just some doppelganger

Until he smacked your ass

Yeah that's him

He loves you, and without realizing it, he just made all your problems fade away

Looking at the picture now, maybe, just maybe, it isn't as bad as you thought it was.

+ Your little twin girls found the picture in some box while playing and made fun of how you both looked. It was never to be seen again. It was under your mattress

— KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

So. Second worst boyfriend on the list.

Let's be honest, if your love language is quality time this won't work

Not that he won't want to spend time with you, but Juvenile? Sorry baby, they stole him from you

Kazutora loves you so much. He'd kill for you, and he'll die for you. No questions asked. He once even tried to break out from Juvenile because he couldn't take being far away from you anymore.

You visit him every day for as long as you can, bringing him gifts, telling stories, saying how much you miss him

But sometimes you wondered, does he love you?

"Baby!" A happy Kazutora exclaimed when you finally entered the meeting room and waited for you with a happy smile to sit down, on the opposite side of him, thick glass keeping you both separate.

"Hey, baby." You chuckled, adjusting in your seat.

It wasn't a lie how excited he was every day to see you. Sometimes, like today, he'd make you small diy gifts and show them off to you, explaining every minor detail from the inspiration, materials, hidden message, time taken, everything

And you kept them all on a special separate shelf in your room

"So that's my gift for you today! Do you like it?"

"I love it, 'Tora."

It was a small origami rose, which was actually very well made, considering he had to use his imagination

You both talk for a few moments before the chattering died down. You knew what that meant and quickly wiped the already falling tears

You hated this

You hated how close yet how far he was from you

You just wanted to break the damn glass and embrace him, never letting go

And he damn well knows he wants it too

But he can't, and neither can you

He was recently taken in, 3 years ago

Which means he'll be out in 7 years

Which felt like a lifetime for both of you

His biggest fear was you'd find someone new and leave him

Which he wouldn't even be mad about, considering he just ruined both your lives

But you stay consistent, you visit every single day, and even if you don't manage to, you always send him gifts and make up for it when you see each other.

But people's patience runs out at some point, and that point is today

You never meant to say this

You never meant to question his love for you because you both knew it was there and growing every passing day

So why did you ask? Was it the loneliness you felt every time you stepped out of the room and he wasn't there by your side? Was it the thrust to just be able to hold his hand? Was it the pain you felt every night where, instead of saying goodnight to him, you turned to a frame with a photo of him and said it to it?

You didn't know. He didn't know

The only thing you remember after that was the sound of glass shattering, alarms going off, and Kazutora hugging onto you as if it was your last minute on Earth.

You just cling to him, never wanting to let go again

You felt the tears fall when he kissed you, feeling all his love attack you in that one moment before the guards arrived and took him away

Your little moment lasted around 10 seconds, probably even less, but it felt like eternity to both of you

Visits were banned for a week until they changed the glass into an even more thick and unbreakable one

You dashed to the building the second they opened visiting hours again

And to be fair, even if that cost him 4 more months in juvenile, it was worth it when you finally managed to continue with your lives after his sentence

+ Your younger son thought it was funny while your older daughter cried her eyes out. I think you have 3 kids instead of two.

— MANJIRO SANO

Ah, yes. Our favorite dark impulse.

Listen, Mikey has to have FULL trust in you to even think about dating you. We're talking about Draken type of trust, if possible even more.

If Mikey falls for you, he will hit like fucking bedrock

If you don't reciprocate his feelings, he'd be hurt, but if you do, you're stuck for life

Mikey loves hard, and it's been proven so many times

It's the same as Kazutora. He'd kill for you.

Don't make him prove it. Just don't. You know, he knows, and everybody knows Mikey will do anything for you

So why ever question it?

You loved Manjiro, and he loved you. It was way too obvious to the point Emma already planned your whole future together

You knew that, but you always had this 'what it' thought in the back of your head, messing with you and you hated it

It was a normal afternoon. You were out with Mikey, just roaming around the city, eating at restaurants where they don't have flags so you brought your home-made ones, and spending way too much money on things you don't need

It was fun and all, just spending time together until he got a message from Draken which quickly brought him to his senses

He didn't want to leave you, but he had, so with a quick kiss on the lips he was off

You waved him goodbye with a smile and called up Emma and the girl just magically teleported to you in 10 minutes

She just loves you too much

Probably fought with Mikey for your hand at some point

You were having a blast with her until you both finally settled down at a café and talked about, just, anything and everything

You decided to share your thought with Emma and she quickly jumped, reassuring you that Mikey loved you with all his hesrt

She started showing you messages he's sent her about how he felt, what to get you and all sorts of things

But our beautiful Emma had her own 'what if' thought and when Mikey got home she instantly jumped on him

It was like, 1am when you heard his bike's engine roaring from outside your window. You got up and were met with a smiling Mikey and no more sleep for tonight

"Wake up, sleepy head. We need to talk."

The moment you got down to him, you were already zooming through the streets of Tokyo, but not in a racer-fast manner, just enought so you aren't like slugs on the roads

"Emma told me that—"

"I'm sorry, Mikey... I didn't mean to—"

"Please let me finish."

He talked for like, a whole ass hour. About everything that includes you both.

He brought you to tears ngl

His words just hit so deep that the thought immediately disappeared

Maybe it was he words of affirmation he used, the quality time he spend riding all night with you to ease your worries, the gift he gave you when you watched the sunrise and the fact you woke up in your bed later on with a small letter from him and a chibi drawing of both of you at the corner that kept a smile on your face till the end of you days

And you damn well know you lived one long ass life with Manjiro

And I'm kinda surprised to be honest

Not because you could've died while he was in Toman or anything, but because your kid is 3 times worse than Mikey.

+ Your son found his old gang uniform and wore it to school. The next teacher-parent conference was one hell of a trip.

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