#a bowl a day keeps the stress away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queers-gambit · 8 months

Text

Neon Sticky Notes

prompt: ( requested ) reminding your boyfriend you love him one sticky note at a time.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.4k+

note: baby gets what baby wants! God, do i hope this is what you want, my baby...

warnings: probably cursing, Carmy needs a nap, men being simps, this is short and sweet! it's FINALLY edited!!!

You knew he was struggling. Worn-out, beaten down, exhausted, run ragged, amuck, and into the ground.

It was evident in the way he carried himself; the prominent bags under his eyes, the way he tossed and turned in bed before being found on the living room couch in the morning. His hair seemed greasier then usual, his skin turning gaunt and grey, and you knew he wasn't making time to eat.

By comparison, you had a simple job, something corporate and in an office. Something that made decent money; something you were good at, something you could find pride in doing.

However, Carmy's job as a chef was different; being more than stressful, and while coupled together for years now, it was still a work-in-progress each time Carmen started on a new venture. Owning, running, and converting The Beef into something "better" should've been no different, only it was - it was totally different. Carmy was frazzled, looking deranged some evenings, as if operating on adrenaline, and you were at a loss on how to help.

So, you resorted to a natural instinct - communicating.

Carmy needed reassurance, he needed support, he needed to be loved for who he is, exactly how he was, in order to keep his head on straight. You never did mind the challenge that was Carmen Berzatto, finding him akin to a puzzle. So, on your way home from work one evening, you stopped at a CVS to grab a pack of neon, multi-colored sticky notes and a brand new Sharpie marker.

You had an idea.

When you got back to your shared apartment, you unloaded the groceries you needed onto the counters before calling Carmy. "Hey, Peaches," he answered on the third ring, usual kitchen clatter in the background, "everything okay?"

"Yeah, all good."

"Sure? Sound outta breath."

"The elevator's broken, I got groceries," you groaned, "and have been skipping the gym for a couple weeks."

He chuckled, "Never skip leg day, baby, you know it's our house motto."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever - hush. I'm just wondering if you had an ETA for tonight? I have an early morning meeting, so I want to go to sleep early."

"Uh," he trailed, a muffled ruffling sounding over the line before a small clatter that made him sigh, "yeah, um, you know what? I really don't know, baby, I'm sorry. You do your thing and I'll be quiet when I get in, just leave my stuff on the couch."

"No, come to bed," you whined slightly, "I miss you."

"Awh, yeah, miss you, too, Peach. I'll be there," he promised.

You finished putting all groceries away; the dishes following, then you got started on prepping dinner. Look, you were no cook - that was all Carmy. But you weren't totally useless in a kitchen, so, you didn't mind taking over most meals now that Carmy was waist-deep in The Beef's bullshit. You played music as you cooked, poured a glass of wine, danced around, and tried to think of a list of encouraging things to remind Carmy. You ate dinner alone, and when done with clean-up, faced off with your sticky notes and Sharpie.

The first note was scribbled and stuck on the covered plate in the fridge: Bone Apple Teeth, Chef!

Then you wrote a note to leave at the door where Carm was sure to drop his keys: make sure you eat the plate I left you!

Humming, you pondered a moment before smirking and writing a third note to be left on the TV remote: I know you too well. come to bed.

Lastly, you wrote a fourth and final note to be left in the bathroom: great job today, Chef! you're killing it!

You were fast asleep when he got home. He found the note in the key bowl, smirking at your kindness and thoughtfulness. Carmy saw the messily-drawn heart and pocketed the note, toeing off his shoes and entering the kitchen. He reheated the plate you left, pocketed the second note after a silent grin of amusement, and when ready, took his hot food to the couch.

Carmy laughed when he found your third note. He left it on the table as he ate, half-watching the news segment he flipped on. When he was full and his plate clear, Carmy turned the TB off, pocketed your note, set everything in the dishwasher, started it, and then went into the bathroom. Another soft chuckle emitted as he pulled the final note in his hand - and you already know he saved it.

When he got in your shared room, he made sure to leave the notes in a random shoe box, stashing it in his closet, changed for the night, and crawled into bed with you.

This was a regular occurrence now: Carmy came home late to a barrage of sticky notes, saved them all, then crashed in bed with you. You missed each other, but understood scheduling just didn't line up right now. It wasn't like you two never saw one another, you still did - but it wasn't like it was. Time together now felt fleeting, as if you had to savor everything, so you made the most of your situation.

Was it overcompensation? Possibly. But Carmy adored your notes.

Sometimes, you'll be sat in the living room, reading a book, working on your laptop, or scrolling Instagram on your phone, while he cooks and he finds a note left on the milk carton that reads: I am UDDERLY in love with you!

Get it? 'Cause cows have udders? You were pretty proud of that pun.

Other times, he'll be up at an unGodly hour, getting a steamy hot shower, and you'll come in to pee. He doesn't think anything of anything until he gets out of the stall only to see a neon orange sticky note on the counter, saying: i love your butt! lemme pinch it!

Carmy feels himself looking forward to your little surprises. Some were funny and a little vulgar, like the note found on the eggs: fertilize MY eggs!

Some notes were more innocent, like the one he found in his shoe one morning, reading: I'm so proud of you. have a great day today!

Some just said: be home for dinner @ 8! making your fav!

Others were found, saying: you're so fucking handsome. I'm one lucky ducky! You even tried to draw a little duck.

Some notes were motivational: you're doing a GREAT job, baby!

Some notes reminded: you have a dentist appt @ 10!

Some notes were sweet: call me during your break, cutie, i miss your voice!

And others found on the bathroom mirror were playful: you look too good today, go change! A second note added: don't need anyone looking at your fine ass! A third: i'm the only one allowed to look #respectfully

Each and every note had a drawn heart, being saved to a hidden shoebox. He found notes in his usual coffee mug, reminding him you loved him. He found notes on his toothpaste tube, telling him he was doing a great job. Cereal boxes now promised Carmy they were proud of him, pastas told him to have a great day, and the light switches assured reminded him how special he was.

The microwave told him you felt blessed to be his and in his jacket pocket, he was told how lucky you are to love him. Some notes swore to him he was one of a kind, others explicitly detailed what parts of him you wanted in parts of you, and a few reminded him of important dates, appointments, deadlines, anniversaries, birthdays, etc..

Sometimes, he found little treats with these sticky notes. Like when you had to make brownies for your little sister's bake sale, you left him a Tupperware full with a hot pink note, labeled: for the love of my life!

And then... One morning, when you got up for work, Carmy was already gone for his day. You went through your normal routine, entering the kitchen with the intention of making a to-go cup of coffee, only to pause and grin when a neon green sticky note greeted you from the stovetop. Written in messy, fresh, black Sharpie was: got you on my mind. love you, be home @ 6 tonight!

Carmy drew own heart and you beamed at the reciprocation. You didn't mind the distance for now, knowing he was busy and it wouldn't last forever; but the fact that he could reassure you as much as you could him warmed your heart. You felt like the Grinch when his heart grew in size, just without the painful grunting. If anything, you felt euphoric from his little note - thinking it was reassuring to still communicate even when your schedules differed.

The day passed sluggishly - only because you were actually excited to go home. Ironically, your last client of the day didn't leave until a little later than scheduled, so, when you FINALLY got off work and made it home, Carmy had beaten you. When you got through the door, you were met with a heavenly aroma; using Gandalf's advice and following your nose to enter the kitchen.

You sighed dreamily when you came to a halt in the doorway, bottom lip trapped between your teeth to attempt and restrain your ecstatic grin. Carmy was shirtless at the stove, stirring a pasta dish to coat it in the sauce of his choice. "Hi, pretty peach," he beamed at you.

"Oh, I've missed this sight," you squealed, rushing to his side to throw your arms around his neck. "Hi, baby, hi, baby, hi, baby," you chanted between chaste kisses to his cheek.

"Someone missed me," he laughed, cheeks blooming a bright red - but not from the kitchen heat.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, and you know I don't do well alone, I need attention," you teased with a pout, his arm slithering around your waist - but a crinkle noise caught your attention. "Woah, hey. Did you get a new tattoo?" You pondered, looking down at his arm that was protectively bandaged.

He smirked and held his arm out, "Wanna take the plastic off for me?"

"What'd you get?"

"Find out," he whispered, staring at you with his intense baby blue eyes; waiting as you calculated your next move. Slowly, you reached out and unwrapped the protective cling wrap, getting to the gauze, then slowly peeling that from his skin.

"Ohhh, my fucking God," you whispered.

"Like it?"

"Are these... My hearts?"

He nodded, "I got 6 of them from your notes tattooed. 'Cause we've been together six years. Figured, each year, I could add one - but you gotta draw it."

"You're ridiculous," you laughed, in minor disbelief. "What made you do this?"

He eased, "You. I've never felt so confident in my life before, and I know you're a huge part of that. It feels right, being with you feels right and I wanted to show you that I see and appreciate all you do." His tone softened, "I wouldn't be me without you, Peach."

"You'd still be Carmy."

"A totally different Carmy, though," he chuckled. "I actually like who I am with you, baby. But look here, I know it's been real hectic lately, sweet girl, with the restaurant, but it's not gonna be like this forever. We're makin' progress, we're gonna get this settled."

"I know," you assured, "'cause if anyone's gonna get this done, it's you. Just don't forget to breathe every now and then - you're drowning in this stress and I need you to stay afloat, Carm."

"I'm good, Peaches, got you on my team so I can't lose," he eased, tucking you into his chest for an embrace. After a minute and a tight squeeze, he sighed, pecked the crown of your head, then mumbled, "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner's almost ready."

You agreed, stealing one last (prolonged) kiss before scampering off to the bedroom. When you got there, you almost tripped when you came to a halt; laughing loudly as the entire bed was covered in an array of neon colored sticky notes. Until you got closer and realized each note detailed a different reason Carmy loved you; from the way you search for him in your sleep to how you resembled a Gremlin if not fed within certain hours. From how you weren't afraid to dress up for the Renaissance Festival to how you throw blankets in the dryer for 15 minutes before movie nights. In fact, "movie night" was on a single note, being a fond yet routine date. You read each note carefully, tears wanting to build but you refused to let them, yet it was difficult when this was the sweetest gesture you've ever known.

Even things you were insecure about, like dimples or weight or hair color, was highlighted as a reason Carmy loved you. He listed your authenticity, generosity, thoughtfulness, charisma, incredible brain but even bigger heart. He praised your wit, your humor; adored your sneezes, and looked forward to coming home every night because he knew he was coming home to you.

You've never felt so loved before, wondering if this was what Carmy felt each time he found one of your notes.

Movement caught your peripheral, and when you looked up, Carmy was leaning in the doorway of the bedroom; arms crossed and lips pulled in a small smirk. He didn't speak, he just stared at you. You were at a loss for words, opening and closing your mouth twice; holding most of the sticky notes in your hands, but then, you settled on telling him simply, "I love you so fucking much, Carmy."

Dinner might've allegedly burned that night, but so did your love and passion for one another. Even the smallest of gestures can go farther than we anticipate, and showing someone you care could be as simple as leaving them notes around the apartment you cohabitate in, on neon colored Post It's.

Wanna know the cool thing about adult relationships? You get to love your partner out loud; being unapologetic in how you emote, and in return, you're loved by them. Each person deserves to be loved in the way they want to be loved - but you know how fucking great it is when two lovers respond to the same language? What I mean is, it could be considered rare that you, who liked to leave notes, would meet and fall in love with someone who liked to collect and read those notes. Your love language was the same as Carmy's, part of the reason you both worked so well together - but also why one day, he'd add plenty more hand drawn hearts to the collection on his forearm.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

2K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 8 months

Note

Speaking about Ghost/Soap/Darling omegaverse... May I bring the idea of Soap and Ghost being alpha and Darling an omega? But wait, let me sprinkle a little of angsty thoughts about it:

Johnny and Simon get to spend their ruts together. Hell, they share a room, and even on base they get to have privacy and go through them with the help of each other, not only fulfilling their physical needs, which are sated of course, but also emotional. Yeah sure, heats are emotional but ruts are too, and they spend so much time together that almost, if not all of their ruts together have been spent in the company of each other.

But Darling? Imagine Darling having a heat every time she's alone. Simon and Johnny gone on some mission, gone for weeks and sometimes even months. Trying to satisfy herself with whatever smell is left on Simon's hoodie or Johnny's shirt. She tries to brush away the thoughts of loneliness and being left out that arise every time she rests in her nest, every time she has to painfully get through her heats without her mates' company.

Hell, she tries to hide everything every time Johnny and Simon come home, smelling like each other and fresh bite marks on their necks. She really, really tries. But nothing escapes those two, no. They can smell that little, slightly rotten smell on Darling, sensing her discomfort and those bouts of anger flaring up, those hints of desperation hiding in a slightly-rotten fruit smell. It becomes stronger and stronger each time she sees how close they are after they tell her that another rut came while they were on base, and her? At this point she might lie and say she's on suppressants. Again, they at least suspect about it.

But hell, the fact that there are always fresh bite marks on them every time they come home, while hers is is non-existent (Johnny and Simon foolishly believe she doesn't wish to be bitten), is NOT helping at all.

And they realize how drastic, how deep the problem is once their leave coincides with Darling's heat.

Except she hides. She doesn't let them in, because they maybe have never seen her on her heats.

She doesn't trust them to know how to deal with it, how to deal with an omegas' most vulnerable moment when all they've known is how alphas deal with their ruts.

Darling doesn't trust them, not fully, at least.

Djsjjd jfc when you said omegaverse I was 👁️👁️. Peach I hope you're having such a good day and I must thank you once more for giving us such beautiful stories, I hope nothing but good things happen to you from now on:)

— 🫔 Anon

Oh… okay, I see you. This is so good! There’s so much to explore here… 🩵

18+ / dead disco omegaverse au (it needs a name but we’ll get there?) / mature themes

The door swings wide, and Johnny is nearly bowled over by the scent. It’s everywhere in the flat, wafting down the hall to where they both stand at the threshold, overcome with the smell of overripe fruit, something sour and tart hovering at the precipice.

It’s the smell of their omega in distress.

But what surprises them both, is along with the burnt tannins of distress, is another smell. A ripe smell, a bruised stone fruit smell.

The smell of an omega in heat.

But their omega doesn’t have heats. You’re on suppressants.

Still, it’s definitely your scent. There’s no mistaking it.

Simon tenses, hackles rising with a growl. Johnny’s hand finds his chest, placing his palm over the older, bigger alpha’s heart soothingly. They’ve just both come off a rut, poor timing all things considered. Both exhausted, they were looking forward to getting home and falling into bed with you, cuddling you close while they both slept off the stress from the op and the remaining… sensitivities.

“Darling?” Simon calls, keeping his voice soft and easy.

There’s no answer. The flat is silent.

“Love? Are you here?” Johnny tries, pushing through to the bedroom, where he’s half expecting to see you curled up in the bed.

Except, you’re not.

It looks like you may have been, at one point. It’s a pile of blankets and pillows, haphazardly arranged with various shirts and other soft things.

Johnny chokes on a breath. The scent is much, much stronger in here, and Simon’s eyes slide closed as he draws a deep inhale.

“Omega?” He murmurs, and to their relief, there’s a small whimper from the closet.

When he gets the door open, his heart breaks. Simon’s body goes preternaturally still, and they both stare down at you.

You’re drenched in sweat, burrowed in a pile of clothes, eyes wide. You reek, panic and fear, distress and pain burning in their nostrils, along with the overripe scent, the telltale smell of a heat. Worse, when you look up at them, there’s no recognition there. Nothing to show that you know who they are to you, or even where you are. Johnny shoves away his panic over your confusion, this state, to try to coax you forward into his arms.

“Hey, there ye are.” He reaches for you, slowly, and your body presses against the corner, head shaking back and forth. Johnny frowns. “Darling, it’s okay. It’s us, you’re alright.” His hand gets closer, nearly brushing you knee, and then to their absolute shock, you snarl.

Simon is conflicted. He’s confused.

Why did you tell them you’re on suppressants?

They would have done things a lot differently, if that wasn’t the case. They wouldn’t have left you alone, if they had known. His stomach clenches when he thinks about the possibility that this isn’t the first time you’ve been on your own during a heat.

“Darling.” Simon coos. He doesn’t want to reach for you. He doesn’t want to pull you from the closet, this safe spot you’ve built, your nest. He doesn’t want to force you out, like his father would have. Like he always did to his mother. His father would have gripped you so hard it would have hurt you, left bruises on you. He would have terrified you, taken joy from it. “Omegas are weak.” Simon was raised to believe. “The lesser. It’s our job to teach ‘em.”

You snort out a trembling breath from your nose, little groan slipping from your lips and you rub your wrist on your gland. Johnny makes a strangled sound in his throat as it happens, and Simon doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s thinking.

Only omegas who have been abandoned or lost their mates try to self soothe like that, scent themselves like that. It’s an instinct, something that happens to try to prevent them from becoming overheated or harmed by a heat unmanaged.

“No, no no. It’s alright, love, we’re here.” Johnny pleads, hand still tentatively outstretched while you stare at his fingers. Every time your wrist rubs over your gland, they both cringe, and Johnny’s body goes rigid.

“I- don’t-” You stutter. You blink at them slowly, and he can see it all on your face, plain as day. The pain. The confusion. The distress.

Simon crouches, just outside the closet. He starts up a soothing rumble, trying to lure you towards him. You lift your head slowly when you hear it, when you feel the subharmonics, the song that sings to you.

“Come here, baby.” Your brow creases, and you rub your face. You look exhausted, like you haven’t slept in days and he wonders how long you’ve been you like this, how long you’ve been suffering. You don’t smell like pre heat, so you must be on the curve upwards. Guilt burns in his stomach. “It’s alright now.” Johnny moves next to him, shifting into a kneel very slowly while you watch him, hazy gaze fixed on the bite marks on his neck, over his gland.

“You’re safe.” Johnny coaxes, and he keeps his hand towards you, but unmoving, trying to show you that neither of them are a threat.

They both work to emit soothing scents, trying to lull you into their arms. You watch them warily, curiously, eyes opening and closing in slow motion as your instincts battle whatever confusion is happening beneath the surface.

It works. You crawl slowly out from the corner, t shirt sticking to your skin, your arms trembling under your weight.

“Good girl.” Simon murmurs. Neither of them move, afraid to spook you, and then you’re curling up between their bodies, rubbing your wrist against your gland over and over.

You tuck yourself into them, head laying on Simon’s chest and his hand comes slowly to rub your back, getting you used to his touch, easing you into a more relaxed state while Johnny smooths a hand over your shoulder, coasting his wrist closer and closer to your gland, trying to scent you subtly and soothe you, gentle you. You whimper when he makes contact, and they both press a little closer.

“Shhh. You’re okay, darling. We’re here.” Simon bows his head, skimming his nose overtop your scalp, and you shift, hands grabbing for Johnny, trying to pull his body overtop yours, effectively sandwiching yourself as tight as you can between their mass. You whine, and Johnny hums in your ear, soothing you by scenting until you’re letting out little rumbles of your own, soft purrs puffing against Simon’s chest, Johnny’s lips ghosting across your sweat dotted forehead.

#🫔 anon #tamale anon you genius!#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au

2K notes · View notes

agi-ppangx · 10 months

Text

💭roommates to lovers (100 followers special)

“oh my god, are you okay?” you heard jisung exclaim as soon as he saw you in the kitchen. you were trying to make yourself some tea but your hands were shaking and you felt like you were going to faint.

you woke up with the worst headache you’d had in your entire life. the night before you decided to come back from work by foot, since you were waiting to get your paycheck and didn’t want to waste your last money on a taxi. since the evenings were getting colder now and you didn’t wear a coat or anything that would keep you warm, you were now suffering the aftermath of the walk.

“yeah, i’m just kind of tired,” you tried to sound convincing but your voice was so hoarse it startled both jisung and you. he obviously didn’t believe you, so he came closer to you and gently placed his hand on your forehead. “damn, you’re burning up,” he simply acknowledged and you looked at him. he was really close to you and for a split moment you wanted to just fall into his arms.

some may think that it’s so cliche to fall for your roommate, but how could you not? jisung was always kind to you, he always knew how to make you feel better after a long day and knew when to leave you alone because you were too stressed and worn out. he was just so thoughtful and caring that you wondered if he would be the same as a partner. not that you planned to confess anyway.

“go to your room,” he ordered suddenly and you breathed a faint “what?”. “you heard me yn, you look like a ghost. go to your room and lay down, i’ll go to the pharmacy for some medicine.” you were caught off guard by his firm tone, but since you really didn’t feel good and you weren’t in a mood to argue you just nodded and did as he said. you covered yourself with a ton of blankets and quickly fell asleep.

the noises outside your room woke you up. you heard some rustling from the kitchen as well as jisung talking to someone on the phone. after a while you heard a knock on your door and jisung entered the room with a tray in his hands. “how are you feeling? i made you some chicken noodle soup. i’m not sure if it’s good but i called my mom and she helped me cook it. she said it works wonders for the flu,” he said quietly and placed the tray on your bedside table. then he helped you to sit up and took the bowl with soup in his hands. you reached out to take it from him but he moved away a bit. you looked at him, confused and he just shook his head. “i’ll feed you,” he then stated and it left you dumbfounded. “ji, i may be weak but i think i’ll be able to hold a spoon,” you chuckled. “i know, i just… i mean, if you don’t want me to, it’s fine, here,” he responded nervously, his cheeks becoming pink, and he handed you the spoon. you took a glance at it and then it was your turn to shake your head. “it’s okay. go ahead,” you gave him a green light and after a while he started to feed you the soup. he was cautious, trying his best not to douse you with the soup. “okay, that’s enough, i can’t eat more,” you sighed after half of the bowl was empty. jisung raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. you saw his gaze and added “my throat feels like sandpaper, i physically can’t eat more”. he giggled at that and placed the bowl down. he then took some pills and a glass of water from the tray and handed them to you. “take this. according to the pharmacist, it also works wonders for the flu.” you laughed softly at his words. he was so caring towards you it made you delusional, you really wanted someone like him as your partner. you wanted him as your partner.

you obediently swallowed the medication and you grimaced when you accidentally tasted one. “oh god, that’s awful,” you coughed and gave jisung the now empty glass. you laid down and it seemed as if you were drowning in the amount of blankets you were under. “you know it’s actually bad for you to cover yourself that much when you’re sick?” “but i’m cold…” you whispered. jisung gave you a soft look, seeing you all weak and vulnerable made his heart melt. he didn’t vocalise his feelings towards you, too scared to ruin your little friendship that developed throughout the past year of living together.

“i know but it’s really not good for you,” he tried to convince you and you thought about it for a while. “fine, but maybe you could… um…” you started, but then shook your head and whispered a faint “nevermind” and simply took some of the blanket off of yourself. “hmm, what did you say?” jisung asked, too curious to let it slide. you thought for a moment and decided to ask him - the worst that could happen is him saying no. “could you, um, cuddle me? that way i won’t need all these blankets.” jisung stared at you, speechless. you started fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie, thinking it was a bad decision, but then he mumbled a simple “yeah, of course” and you felt as if a weight was taken from your chest. he soon laid by your side and took you into his arms. if your nose wasn’t so stuffed you would for sure inhale his cologne. he felt so soft and safe and it made you actually sob a little bit. jisung stroked your head, detangling some messy hair strands from time to time. it helped you relax and you closed your eyes, wishing you could stay like this forever.

after a while you suddenly heard jisung speak. “you know, sometimes i dream about holding you like this.” at first, you supposed he was talking to someone over the phone and you pretended to still be asleep, not wanting to interrupt, but then the meaning of his words hit you. was he speaking to you? “i’m glad i’m the one who’s taking care of you. i wish i could be with you and take care of you more and hold you in my arms more and just… i don’t know, just be with you yn,” he whispered and it made your heart ache. oh my god, did jisung also have a crush on you? “then be with me,” you simply said. it caught jisung off guard, when you opened your puffy eyes you noticed his frightened gaze and quivering lips. “are you serious?” he said, his words barely above the whisper. “i am.” “i’m gonna kiss you, okay?” “don’t, you’ll get sick” “i don’t care.” with that jisung captured your lips in a soft kiss, letting you set the pace. “i think i’m not cold anymore,” you giggled when you broke the kiss to catch a breath. and jisung laughed as well, caressing your now rosy cheeks.

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids imagines #skz comfort #stray kids scenarios #stray kids comfort #han jisung #han jisung skz #han jisung stray kids #han jisung fluff #han jisung soft hours #han jisung soft thoughts #han jisung headcanons #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you

2K notes · View notes

cherryjuiceblues · 3 months

Text

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟓.𝟐

➯ HARRY LETS HIS FRUSTRATION GET THE BETTER OF HIM AND SOME TIME AWAY FROM Y/N HAS HIM TURNING UP AT HER DOOR TO FINALLY TELL HER HOW HE FEELS. ✰ dom!harry resolved angst. shouting. sexual content. BDSM influenced punishment. dominant and submissive dynamics. slight anal play. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 10.7k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

The house doesn’t smell like curry.

And that’s the first thing he notices when he steps inside after a long day. Harry always makes a point to relish in the view of his home before he enters its threshold; warm and bathed in light—the clear signs of life pouring out of the windows and across the driveway. Y/N cradles his heart in more ways than she shall ever know but simply remembering that she is here, in his home, keeping it safe whilst he’s gone… It does irrevocable things to him.

But today, fretful from the stresses of the night before, perhaps he’ll admit that it does less to soothe his weary head as it does most days. When the only thing getting him through the workday was the promise of a beloved meal, prepared with love, steaming—waiting for him when he got home—and the scent doesn’t immediately hit him in the face… he worries. He worries for his sanity and for Y/N’s wellbeing. He worries for the words he might say on an impatient, empty stomach.

The tension between Harry’s brows radiates throughout his entire skull as he rolls out his shoulders and prepares himself for the conversation he’s going to have to have in approximately ten seconds. He can hear Y/N tottering around in the kitchen—and that almost makes it worse—that she’s in there and yet he can smell… he can smell something sweet. Something—

His feet lead him to the scent, hoping his nose is mistaken, forehead tightening at the sight he is greeted with.

“What’s this?” His cadence is concerning—unclad with his usual charming lilt—swathed in this new, murky tone of impatience. “Where’s m’dinner, sweetheart?”

Y/N twists around from her place at the sink, lips turned downwards unlike her usual welcome of a happy, relieved smile. And her reaction, Harry will later accept, is a valid one considering his complete lack of greeting—when he is usually so full of soft lilts and gentle caresses.

“Oh—hello to you too,” she scoffs, words tumbling out uncharacteristically, “‘m I your housewife, now?” And—regardless of whether Y/N had already been labelled as such by Harry’s own employees, she has a feeling his eyes would’ve darkened all the same. His immediate, deathly silence does more to terrorise her than any garish attempt at horror (although that successfully scares her too).

She’s wondered what it would take for him to have his moment. Harry’s patience has always been such a relief—the most gentle person in Y/N’s life—a trait previously severely lacking and one she now cherishes every day.

And she knows his reaction isn’t unjust. She should have made him dinner, ready to eat as soon as he stepped foot inside—just like she had promised earlier in the day. With a smile on her face. She can’t quite explain why she made a cake instead. She’d had every intention to do as she’d said, was on her way to the kitchen to get started, in fact. But then she’d opened her phone, scrolled through Pinterest for just long enough to become distracted, to forget her initial quest, and to become enamoured by a heart-shaped sponge cake instead.

Y/N understands Harry’s anger. But it’s still upsetting. She feels as though she has committed something worthy of jail time. Her stomach churns, previously dancing butterflies dispersing with a single brandishing glance over her way. They’re replaced by heavy, heavy bricks—weighing her down, immobilising her completely as she watches Harry inspect the kitchen with beady eyes.

“You made a cake?” He asks, already knowing of the answer; the evidence stares him straight in the face—accompanied by the debris—a crime scene of flour and icing sugar, bowls upon bowls filled with remnants of batter. She opens her mouth, abandoned by sound, swiftly closed when Harry continues on his own; unneeding of Y/N to have a conversation.

“Does it taste like fucking Korma, darlin’?” And she doesn’t like it—the way he weaponises the word she associates so closely to her own identity—the one he uses more than her own name. He’s upset. And it’s her fault.

“It—”

“—Don’t. Just—” he sighs, swiping his heavy palm over his forehead, “—be quiet.”

It slaps her across the face—his unwavering displeasure. She feels the heat rising, uncomfortable in her face, the stinging of her eyes uncontrollable. Harry walks around the island, sighing at the sight of his sink. She was going to clean it, she was. But that doesn’t matter now.

Y/N stands awkwardly near the doorway, stuck in place. He’s muttering, hands busying automatically, clattering indelicately—every bang and crash deafening in Y/N’s nervous state. “Cake,” he laughs flatly, “she makes fucking cake.”

She’d made it with good intentions, she swears. Everything she does is for Harry one way or another. But even Y/N can admit her timing had been astronomically off with this one. A tear trembles its way over her waterline, Harry chiding her; talking about her as if she isn’t there at all, wounding in a way that makes her feel small unlike every other time before. She swipes it away quickly but the evidence remains—a sad, salty trail.

“Leaves her mess—” a spoon is dropped unceremoniously, “everywhere,” throwing utensils into the top rack of the dishwasher with a lack of finesse. “Promises me dinner and then has the… the cheek to play the feminism card. Like it’s some… sort of punishment that I dole out.”

And then he spins around, wielding a whisk in a way that usually should diminish someone’s threat but only emphasises his anger. His eyes harden at the sight of her wet face, and he softens his words none. “You know I don’t think of you as some— some tool, some object for my own desires,” he puts the whisk into the dishwasher, before addressing her again, “but when you promise someone something, you fucking deliver, do you understand me?”

Y/N nods jerkily, more tears brimming. “I’m sorry,” she all but wails. The guilt fills her ears with a thickness—one that throws her off balance.

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” She’s rendered him resigned; her dominant usually so bright and uplifting, now expelling sigh upon sigh at the mere existence of her.

“I don’t want to look at your sad little face, turn around.” Y/N lags, feet glitching over the tiles. “Face the wall—yep,” he nods at her stunned expression, indicating that he is indeed serious, “go on.”

But surely not. “Let me—” her arms reach out in front of her, asking to help. Begging to help—to clean up her own mess and let Harry sit down.

Harry shuts her down, shaking his head tersely, coming forward to turn her himself. “—In the corner…just do something good. Wipe your face—” She lets herself be manhandled, shoulders quivering silently. He nudges her knees with his own, positioning her just right—in the corner like a naughty child. “—Don’t need to see you crying.”

He’s right; he doesn’t. She fucked up, Harry deserves to be the upset one. But instead Y/N’s weeping like some sort of inadvertent guilt trip.

Without her vision, everything he does is that much louder—his mutterings now comparable to full-blown rantings. “Who needs—three fucking bowls? This isn’t masterchef, darling. You don’t need three bowls to make a cake, you don’t.” Every sound makes her body tighten up.

Y/N sniffles, “I’m sorry,” forehead drooping to rest weakly against the wall.

Harry doesn’t seem to hear her sad whimper, grumbling away to himself. But as he turns and starts wiping the island counter, he scolds her again. “Stand up straight, we’re not relaxing,” as she forces her head back up sadly, twisting her neck to apologise once more. He’s moved back to the sink, knocking the tap with his knuckle to start soaking a large, ceramic bowl. “—And quit lookin’ at me over your shoulder.”

She slinks back around, shame heating her cheeks. Her posture wilts like a sorry flower. But she can’t help but worry as he’s soaking the bowls—a remembrance of the frosting she’d made, ready to spread on her heart-shaped creation after it had cooled. She checks back over her shoulder just as he’s standing on the pedal of the bin, lid swinging up.

“No!” she cries, scrambling over to rescue the bowl from Harry’s evil clutches. He sighs, eyes roving over her doleful, wet face, but he lets her hold it.

��Why—are you crying?” He asks with such indignation. “Do you need a reason, hm? Because we can find you one,” he swipes under her eyes carelessly, murmuring something about how he ought to never make her come again. “Ridiculous,” muttering to himself as Y/N stands woefully before him—frame so much smaller than it should be. “Go upstairs. Take your—” he turns her by her shoulders, “—bowl and go upstairs. Be useful and cry elsewhere… whilst I make us dinner.”

Y/N wonders, as she sadly shuffles her feet along the floor and up the stairs, if this is the Harry his previous partners were privy to. If this is how his dominance presented—cold, harsh, and unforgiving. She can’t deny the curiosity; that if the circumstances were different that she wouldn’t be aroused at the expense of her fear. Not that she’s scared of him—she’s not. He’s not that kind of angry. But this is unexpected, and it’s unsettling. She can’t decipher the true intentions behind his words; if they’re fuelled by frustration, hunger, exhaustion… or if they’re disguised by such factors in order to portray his true feelings. Was he… irreversibly upset with her? Was he disgusted by her? Repulsed? Turned off?

She sits on the edge of his bed—the bowl is cold against her palms, heavy and sorrowful, and surely much saltier than she’d originally intended—tears dripping off her chin and into the frosting below.

She cries because she’s embarrassed, she cries because she’s failed; she’s a disappointment and a right headache. It’s why she just sits there, doing as he’d told her—to cry elsewhere. Whether or not she’s waiting for Harry, Y/N doesn’t know. Her brain sits in thick sludge inside of her skull.

Time evades her in moments like these. Her eyes gloss over, focused on one blurring point, her thoughts form with immense struggle—like someone wading through mud, picking up one foot with force, weighed down by the imprisoning filth, allowed freedom for a fraction of a second before it is submerged once more.

She sits and she stares at nothing in particular, blinking only to displace the tears that obscure her already fuzzy vision. And when Harry appears in the doorframe, it takes a lagging second or two before recognition, before her face twists slightly and a wet garbling sound dribbles its way out of her downturned mouth.

He sighs, anger replaced with exhaustion now… or simply pushed aside until another time. Harry walks towards her, movements slow; cautious like that of a person desperate to keep a placated baby sweet.

“Don’t cry, come on,” he thumbs a tear from her dewy cheek, “don’t need to cry.” His voice is softer now, Y/N is grateful. Although his caressing cadence is enough to make her emotional on most days. So it does little to cease the rapid beating of her heart or the little diamond droplets in her waterline.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she sniffles, pushing her face into the pressure of Harry’s thumb despite feeling unworthy of it.

“Okay.” It’s a murmur, removed of emotion, as he’s smoothing his fingers around to the back of her neck, holding firmly—keeping her upright to allow her heavy head some respite—whilst he stands tall at the foot of the bed, gargantuan in size compared to Y/N’s sad form.

“Listen to me,” the digits curl slightly, angling her head up, up. She’s forced to ruminate over the tension in Harry’s brows and the evidence of his hands running through his hair with irritation, strands coiling wildly. But she nods against the strain, trying so hard to be better.

“You have two options.” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. Y/N almost wishes he did. The complete lack of inflection leaves her with nothing to lean on. “You can be a good girl for the rest of the night, just like I know you’re so capable of—” he pauses to let the words settle, and maybe to hear the echo of the slight spite in his accusation.

Y/N doesn’t think she needs to hear option two, and when Harry does say it, it makes her sad all over again.

“—or you can go to the spare room.”

Her lip twitches; she clenches her eyes shut to force the tears back down and shakes her head in silence.

Harry strokes his thumb against the back of her scalp. “We will talk about this. Tomorrow, we will. But for now, I want easy, okay? Will you be good?”

I am good! Is what she wants to say. She wants to say that she never meant to be bad, she never meant to upset him. She wants to take the last few hours of her life back completely and do it all over again.

The weight of the bowl in her hands is a reminder. She puts it down on the mattress beside her, curling her knees underneath her bum to push her height up. To reach Harry’s chest and clench her fingers into the material of his shirt, jacket long since removed in the heat of his frustration.

“I’llbegood,” Harry feels the vibration of her words and hears the muffled promise as Y/N smears sad kisses over his cotton covered heart. He lets her—eyes losing the fight against his lids as they fall shut, sighing as he worries about taking this all too far.

But the wheels are in motion, and the emotions are high. If Y/N can’t follow through on a promise, then Harry must follow through with a punishment. Or a scolding. Or whatever it is that they’re doing right now—which seems to be neither. He just wants to sleep, and hold her warm body, and forget about his day.

He brings his hand up to smooth over the top of her head, closed eyes allowing him one last moment of reprieve. Y/N’s tears soak through his shirt, wetting his skin underneath. No doubt he’ll find dampened patches littered across the material, soon to dry but the memory will never fade. Of having his love kiss through her tears, to beg in her sadness for forgiveness by applying her own homemade bandaids.

Harry needs a distraction.

His gaze lands on the forgotten bowl when he opens his eyes, gently pushing Y/N back onto her bum when he decides what to do.

“You didn’t eat your frosting, baby?”

And now he’s confusing her… because now he sounds almost playful—and Y/N doesn’t know the correct answer to give—the right words in the right order to be rewarded with the right reaction.

“I didn’t—know if you wanted me to, Sir,” she swallows around some of the words, snotty nose all stuffy and suffocating her vocal chords.

“I’d like you to now.” Harry sees his hands on her face as he says it, white frosting painting her like something else they’re familiar with—his fingers spanning the entirety of her features, smearing the mess around like she’s his own personal canvas.

He leans down, just enough to dip his fingers inside the bowl, coating his digits, and then he stretches back out to his full height with purpose, sinewy forearm veiny as it is pulled towards Y/N’s mouth by an eager hand.

She sits still—statuesque—with her eyes roving up Harry’s rolled sleeve and all the way to the straight line of his mouth. Y/N can’t help but wish she could know exactly what he was thinking as he daubs the pads of his middle and ring finger against the seal of her mouth, displacing the substance from his fingers to her lips, before teasing his way inside to hook her bottom teeth down and unlatch her jaw.

He just… stares for a moment, holding her mouth open and watching as saliva pools beneath her tongue and kisses his fingertips. And then he pats her cheek with his other hand, a soft tap as Y/N’s lashes barely flutter from the weight of his palm. She drools a little when Harry drops her jaw, shame lingering somewhere but not quite reaching the forefront of her mind. It occurs to her to close her mouth, but it seems her dominant isn’t quite finished—bringing a newly dipped hand back up to her face. He’s all but dipped it entirely into the bowl, cold against Y/N’s face when he smudges his handprint over the left side of her face with a quirk of his lips.

“Sweet and salty, huh?” his eyes darken, the pad of his thumb smearing the frosting so indelicately adorning her face. The sugary paste intersects with a drying tear trail streaking down her cheek and Harry can’t help the way his saliva pools under his tongue, blocky front teeth pushing two lines into his bottom lip.

She looks so pretty.

Y/N watches the way the flesh holds a slight indentation when her dominant closes his mouth once again. The quickstep of her heart dances with exhilaration now—body frozen in anticipation as Harry’s looming stature shrinks her. Her eyes are wide, and the only things she dares to move, flitting around Harry’s face as he manhandles hers.

He squeezes her cheeks together, shaking her head from side to side before dipping his thumb into her open mouth and spreading it across her tongue. Vanilla blossoms on her taste buds, and a quiet hum rumbles at the back of Y/N’s throat.

“S’that nice?” Harry all but coos. “All your hard work? Does it taste good?” He’s teasing, she knows—but that’s never mattered with Harry. Y/N will always answer him sincerely.

She hums around his thumb, “Mhm,” tongue flicking against his soft pad. If Y/N could eat everything off of Harry’s fingers, she would. Hand fed for life, lips cushioning his long digits as they stroke her tongue and caress the insides of her cheeks.

“Let me see,” Harry murmurs, keeping her head still as he bends down, tongue unfolding from behind his lips as he licks a stripe from the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone. Y/N makes a startled noise around his thumb, goosebumps littering her skin. Warmth and wet from his thick muscle as it lingers unnecessarily; he hums lewdly, over exaggerating the pleasure just to amplify Y/N’s—to watch her squeeze her thighs out of the corner of his eye as he leans back and swallows.

“Beautiful,” he concludes—about her frosting or about her, Y/N doesn’t know. Her eyes are wide and crystal clear, every emotion glittering over the surface of her corneas. And she just sits there, white smudges over her cheek, her lips, staring up at Harry as though he created the world in the palm of his hand—as though she sleeps soundly curled up in the nest of his dimple or the crevice of his navel.

Harry knuckles the rest of the mess off of her skin, suckling the joint into his mouth and gathering it all onto his tongue. She doesn’t expect the grip of his fingers on her jaw and for her automatic response being to present her own tongue, doesn’t realise that she registers the slight purse of his lips as he crowds her space and shamelessly lets the sweetness drip heavily into her mouth.

He doesn’t have to tell her to swallow as her throat bobs, eyes never wavering from Harry’s despite the electricity that jolts up her spine from the casual debauchery. So unwavering, his gaze, as if concentrating on the most important thing to ever happen in his life. Refusing to blink to avoid risking missing a single millisecond.

And then… then he steps back, the moment suddenly gone. Y/N misses the way his eyes droop regretfully.

Silent footfalls pad over to the en-suite, collecting cleanser and lotion, serum and soft wipes. Harry dabs at her face with such precision that Y/N wonders if it’s soothing for him—to take more care than necessary at cleaning her skin. She doesn’t quite understand the intent. Was he not going to continue what Y/N confidently assumes he had in mind?

He doesn’t as he changes out of his suit, he doesn’t as he passes his work shirt to Y/N, he doesn’t as she undresses—which would be the perfect time to do such a thing—he doesn’t as he pulls back the covers and settles in, patting the spot in front of him.

Y/N complies with a similar silence. No words shared but nonverbal communication can be just as effective. The wrap of Harry’s heavy forearm around her waist, pulling her in tight, so tight—almost too tight. That’s soothing enough to her, feeling his hard chest, his hard arms, his hard—

“Mm, Harry,” a whispered moan and a shift of her bum. She can feel him begging to nestle between her.

“No, baby, no,” he tickles her neck inadvertently, burrowing his nose into the delicate flesh. She yearns to crane her head back against his shoulder.

“Want you to feel good, sir. Just stay warm inside me, please?”

“I don’t deserve it, pet. Sleep now. We’ll eat in an hour.”

She can’t argue, not when her eyelids are so heavy. But the sleepiness of her brain and the tingling between her legs has her head all foggy, movements not her own as she guides Harry’s hand up to her mouth and coaxes his middle two fingers past her lips. He sighs into her neck, a gentle huff, but doesn’t resist—his other arm simply snakes under her body to wrap back around her waist and infuse her into his front.

Y/N has never slept so easily after an argument before.

When more of your possessions reside in your dominant’s house than your own, it’s probably time to reevaluate the situation. Y/N doesn’t do that as she juggles cans and bottles before dumping them into her suitcase—Harry’s suitcase because hers was old and battered—doesn’t even ponder it, which is something novel for her.

Harry passes a makeup bag silently from beside her. His case sits open on top of his mattress, slowly filling with clothes and toiletries. She’s not going for long, not even three full days, but Y/N has always been more at ease when she overpacks—instead of underpacking and feeling that swirling dread when she realises she’s forgotten something.

They’d travelled to her house to grab some things and then back to Harry’s—where he neatly folds whilst she fretfully panics—too manic to be overly helpful.

“Do you think I’ll need my sunglasses?” She gestures with them, spinning them around her finger before proceeding to juggle midair to stop them falling to the floor.

Harry smiles, humming whilst he picks a loose bit of fluff from the jeans he’s folding, “I’d take them, just in case.”

“Won’t you tell me where we’re going?” She tries to round her eyes but Harry sees right through her. “Please?”

“No, darlin’, sorry.” He’s not sorry.

“I can’t believe you’ve known the whole time— when did he tell you? Why won’t you tell me? This is ridiculous…” she scoffs, “trying to send me somewhere when I have no bloody clue where it is I’m going—!”

“Oh, watch out everybody, she’s gearing up.”

“—Yes, I am! Stay clear of me unless you want a…” she hesitates , “a…”

“A knuckle sandwich?” Harry offers.

“A knuckle sandwich, yeah!” holding two small fists out in front of her with misguided intent. “Watch out, mate,” hopping about him like a crazy person.

He lets her, hoping she’ll tire herself out with all the bouncing around. “Okay, pal. I’m not telling you! I’m not sending you off to war, don’t worry, okay?”

She almost snorts. Don’t worry… what a ridiculous notion. “When pigs fly, Harry,” she grumbles.

They’re in better spirits today, evidently—although the morning had been tense. When Y/N had peeled her eyes open and relished in the feeling of Harry wrapping her up, she’d melted even further into the mattress. But that was before consciousness had really hit her, before her brain woke up and went fuck.

Harry had gone through the same thing about three seconds later, the jolt of Y/N’s remembrance disturbing his slumber. He’d groaned out, rolling onto his back and slinging a forearm over his eyes. Y/N peeked behind her at his bare chest rising and falling slowly. His grumbling voice had made the hairs on her arms stand up.

“Want a coffee?”

“Oh—I’ll do it, Harry.”

“No you won’t, stay there,” slinging his legs over the side of the bed and stretching his arms above his head.

She still couldn’t help but admire the broadness of his back and the way it rippled despite the suspense in the air. “Could I have a tea, please? Actually, can I just come with you?”

He’d looked back at her, dimple carving its place with a small smile. “Alright, fusspot, come on then.”

“Here you go,” Harry passed her a mug, presenting her with the handled side as if he wasn’t casually holding scalding ceramic in his hand.

It toppled out, really, nearly undecipherable as she rushed, “Thankshandsome.”

Harry brought his mug up to his lips, not quite registering what she’s said, and then he paused, “What did you just say?”

Shit, nothing, nothing. “I said thanks, Harry."

“No you didn’t, did you just call me—?”

“—It sounded weird,” a sad frown pulled at her mouth. “I want to be sweet but it sounded so stupid.”

He shook his head, tongue running along his bottom lip to stop himself cheesing. “Say it again.”

She’s flustered. “I—” Harry raised his eyebrows. “...Thank you, handsome.”

“And again?” tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

Clammy hands dragged over her eyes to try and feel invisible. “Thanks, handsome.”

A broad grin stretched out across his face, and Y/N swore she saw the hint of a blush teasing the surface of his cheeks. “I like it,” he said. “You’re welcome, darlin’.” Y/N’s face burned, a nervous roll of her lip between her teeth before Harry reached out to kiss her cheek.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, baby. Really sorry.”

“Wh—?” She grabbed his hand that had found her face, thumb stroking her chin. “Why? It was my fault, I’m sorry. I promised you. I hate that I broke it.”

“You did promise me, yeah. But I didn’t even say hello to you, sweetheart. What kind of arsehole does that? Made you feel like shit. Can’t deny it, I made you cry.”

“But I just felt bad. Because— Because I promised, and you must’ve been so hungry.”

“It was just a curry, pet. No harm done. You made a very gorgeous cake instead. And yeah, I was hungry but no one died. I don’t hate you because you made a mistake. People make mistakes—I made one hundred mistakes last night.”

“Only a few,” she smiled coyly.

“I’m sorry. I was hungry, and I was tired, and I did all the wrong things. I upset you and it upset me and… I never w’na speak to you like that again. Will you forgive me?”

“I already had,” her voice wobbled, relief flooding her system. Harry wrapped his arms around her shoulders and buried his nose into her hair without a moment of hesitation. “I’m sorry too.”

He hummed. “You know I don’t expect you to cook and clean for me, don’t you? Don’t expect any of that.” She nodded against his chest, forehead rubbing against his bare skin. “Could roll around on the floor all day or pick pretty flowers, as long as you were happy.”

“Stop, you’re making me cry,” a wet sniffle rumbling into his chest.

“You really think I’m handsome?”

She barked out a laugh, pulling back to look into his smiling eyes. “No! I think you’re wretched!”

Now, they pratt about like two high teenagers—giggling about things that could only be funny in these very specific circumstances. Harry insists on pretending to grind on Y/N like he’s been cast in some sort of early two thousands music video, relishing in each fit of shrieky laughter he wins from her, nibbling into her neck and pulling her body into his.

“Harry! You’re supposed to be helping me pack!”

“I am helping.”

“No you’re not!” she laughs.

“Let’s finish it later,” he mumbles into the side of her face, arms squeezing around her middle promisingly. “I’m supposed to be working, you know?” Harry hasn’t set foot in his home office all day.

“You’re the boss,” she argues validly.

“Yeah, I am…” he agrees, keen to keep their bubble from popping. “Will you let me decorate your cake with you?”

Y/N spins around in his arms, face bright as she exclaims, “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”

Harry laughs. “G’na need to make some more frosting, most likely,” smiling like a menace when Y/N’s eyes widen and he can almost feel the heat rising up her face. She glances over to the bowl that is still sat on top of the dresser where Harry moved it the night before. If not for the fact that half of it was used like foundation, then it is most definitely not fresh anymore from its lack of cover.

“Come on, then,” she bites her lip, finding his hand and intertwining their fingers in a bold move of enthusiasm as she coaxes him out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

A beautifully heart shaped cake sits undisturbed on a vintage glass stand, the patterned dome warping the image underneath it. And despite the trouble that said cake caused, Y/N still bounds over to it all smiley, proud like she’s just received a first class distinction for a dissertation she’s slogged over for months.

Harry watches her fondly, noting the way her lips form around silent words as she lists off all the things she needs to get out of the cupboards. It’s a privilege to get to see someone so comfortably in their element; to pick up on things they don’t even notice about themselves.

She ushers him over, presenting a wooden spoon for him to take. “You can stir, muscle man,” the cheeky quip settling on Harry’s skin with a buzz as Y/N slowly pours each ingredient into a bowl. Harry does as he’s told, stirring and beating the mixture until the boss deems it good enough.

She wields the palette knife like it’s an extension of her hand, smoothing the frosting over the cake whilst Harry ‘helps’. Y/N did ask if he wanted to do it, but he couldn’t possibly do a subpar job of her favourite process. So he watches from beside her—not too close (“You make me nervous”) but close enough for moral support (“Not that far away!”)—making an effort to hold his breath in case it were to disturb her.

Cakes were never Harry’s dessert of choice but… but. Y/N’s unwavering glee is enough to make him want to request a change in the law that demands cake be granted to all. “Do you like it?” She grins, looking up at Harry to gauge his reaction. And he hardly has to over exaggerate; it is gorgeous.

“Too good to eat, that’s for sure,” he hums, holding her gaze with a twinkle in his eye.

“Wait! It’s not finished,” her face drops as she remembers, frantically hurrying to the fridge to retrieve a punnet of strawberries.

Harry should’ve known. “Nothing is ever finished without strawberries.” It’s a gentle tease, followed by a huff of laughter, shaking his head gently as she cuts them in half to place around the border of the heart, in between soft peaks of piping.

It’s simple, and it’s sweet, and it’s lovely. Much like Y/N as she habitually holds up a fruit to Harry’s mouth, shrieking and pulling back when he purposefully nips her fingertips. He grins through a chew, fresh, sweet juice shining on his lips.

Then he turns to get some water, presenting Y/N with a perfect opportunity. As he’s filling a glass, letting his mind wander to dinner plans, “Do you fancy spag—” he turns into Y/N’s attack as she strikes. Vanilla buttercream. Vanilla buttercream splattered across his cheek and kissing his eyelashes.

Y/N gasps, hands coming up to cover her mouth and hide her smile, so bad at pretending to be innocent. Harry says nothing, and then he trails his eyes from the floor to her face… “You little minx,” and he pounces.

The submissive yelps, reaching behind her for the counter—frantic for stabilisation as Harry’s body collides into hers. She’s drowning in giggles, out of breath from the incessance. The bottom of her spine digs into marble, hips swivelling as she desperately tries to reach the bowl. Harry’s laughing, pushing forward to rub his sugary face against hers whilst Y/N wiggles—and when he realises her intent, drops his hands to her hips and tugs her behind brutishly into his front—reaches over her back and elongates a sinewy arm to grasp what she can’t.

A clumsy hand bashes against the ceramic, his free arm wrapping around both of Y/N’s the best he can to incapacitate her as his fingers find frosting. He pulls them back, frenzied in his movements as he carelessly sullies her face, her big puffs of laughter tickling his palm. “Ah!” She squeals, head thrown back against his shoulder to try and escape Harry’s menacing paw. “Ha—ha—Harry! Sto-ho-op!”

“You love it,” he grumbles into her temple, far from irritated but his voice can’t help but dip into that velvety cadence with her body pressed so tight against his. He smushes his palm over her mouth, perfectly riled up when Y/N opens her mouth and slathers her tongue against the sticky skin.

She giggles something unattractive—though it makes Harry’s cock twitch in his sweats. “Fuckin’ love struggling like this, don’t you, doll?” And suddenly the mood shifts, Y/N’s laugh catches in her throat and she garbles out a whine instead, body relaxing in Harry’s hold.

He nudges her forward, encourages the stretch of her body over the countertop and the way her knuckles knock against the ceramic. An unconscious hum rumbles past his lips, tongue poking out to taste the sweetness Y/N left behind.

Deft fingertips tug impatiently at the denim hem of her jeans, forcing the button undone and then the zipper, shifting them down to stretch across her thighs. Y/N pants when she realises that’s all the wiggle room Harry is going to grant her.

He pauses, “What’s your colour,” uncharacteristically out of breath, hardly poised as a question.

“Green,” Y/N whines in return, trying to wiggle her hips but Harry wraps his fingers through the back of her underwear and pulls. The fabric cuts into the crease of Y/N’s thighs and a shiver wracks through her as the force of it bounces her ass against him—against his bulge.

His breath hits the shell of her ear as he leans over, taunting and teasing. “Gonna let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” Y/N nods, turning her cheek into the marble to feel the cold spread out across the searing flesh. Her hands form fists, nails digging into her palms—desperate to tug on something but her skin is the only option.

It’s rushed, and it’s frenetic—it’s not the way things usually go and it multiplies Y/N’s excitement tenfold. Her knees wobble without prompt and she’s not sure she’ll be able to hold this position for very long but she doesn’t think she’ll have to. Not when Harry pulls himself out of his sweatpants and slips himself under her panties and through her lips. He’s so hard already, Y/N feels herself wetten from the slightest touch; his weight and his grunt as their bodies meet completely and utterly.

But he’s teasing her, he’s… he’s—

“Harry,” it comes out all whiny and impatient—two things Y/N has never claimed not to be—but with every slant of his hips, every stroke through her arousal and bump of her clit, with her wretched knickers still on, it makes her angry. “Stop—stop teasing me!”

He jerks, unused to such commands toppling from her mouth. “Shh, be good, be quiet,” but complying regardless as he slips her panties down her thighs to stretch just like her jeans. Y/N can’t spread her legs very wide, but that doesn’t stop Harry from pushing at pulling as he pleases—one hand pressing down on her lower back, the other cupping her cunt and smearing her arousal like an artist with a paintbrush.

Neither of them can stand the idea of foreplay right now; Y/N can feel her sad, empty hole pulsing and clenching around nothing—Harry throbs just the same, slicking her wetness up and around his dick, twisting and tugging at the tip enough to make him leak down his knuckles.

They’re wet enough, shining under the harsh kitchen lights, and yet Harry still pulls at Y/N’s ass, spreading her wide to dribble a thick line of spit onto her puckered hole. She jolts, hips grinding unceremoniously against the counter as she feels his saliva drool down to her glistening cunt and Harry’s thumb chase it. He coos and hisses at the bang, smoothing over her hip with his other hand as he starts to rub circles over her.

“Oh—!” It’s impossible not to writhe under the foreign feeling, exposed and wet, trapped by her own jeans. Her forehead falls down, clashing against the marble but Y/N hardly feels it. All she can feel is the pad of Harry’s thumb and the heat it burns into her body—the seeping between her thighs the longer he plays, and the teasing bumps and brushes of his cock against her rounded flesh.

“Shh, that’s it. Good girl.”

And she withers. She disintegrates right in front of Harry’s eyes.

“Pretty girl with a pretty ass, hm? ‘s that feel good, darlin’?”

“Mm, please I—”

“I know, shh—shh,” thudding himself against her firmly, guiding the tip up and down her slick, pushing in to watch her stretch and swallow before leaning back again. Pushing in—pulling out. His thumb applies the slightest of pressure, not enough to send panic clattering up Y/N’s spine but enough to mollify her very being. The sensation—the teasing—of intrusion without the worry of it. The taboo nature of experiencing such pleasure in such places.

When Harry pushes in all the way, Y/N nearly collapses, whimpering into the counter. She can feel him in her fucking throat, she’s sure of it. Every ridge, every vein, the nudge of his head, his slit kissing her walls. And Harry spews all that he can without saying the words themselves.

“Love your fucking cunt, love this—fucking gorgeous body.” His voice thins out to a gravelly whisper, “Were you made just for me, sweetheart?” hips slapping against rippling flesh, palm smoothing up her back to weave into tendrils of hair as his thumb remains encircling. Y/N tries to reply; all that procures are pitiful cries of exertion, air punched out of her lungs with every thrust. “Waiting patiently for me to find you.”

It’s such a romantic sentiment that she finds herself welling up—perhaps easily understood by the overstimulation of her entire vessel but it feels deeper than that. It feels intimate irregardless of their current position. A limp hand flops against her lower back, tired elbow joints aching, searching for its partner—searching for its missing puzzle piece. And when Harry’s fingers slot into place… it forms the whole, pretty picture.

“Love, need you to—” a pause as though he’s forgotten the words as he says them. “Need you to relax. Gripping me so tight—not g’na last.”

But Harry’s sentiment calms her none, she clenches around him even tighter—suddenly tunnel visioned for one thing and one thing only. It’s an amalgamation of wet noises attempting to form syllables, “Pleasecome, pleasecome, please—” Inside, she wants it inside.

“God, baby, you’re so wet,” Harry’s hips stutter, digits squeezing hers even tighter, thumb slipping away to slink around her front and frame two fingers on either side of her cunt, pinching her clit ever so slightly. It makes her shudder, mouth far too numb to feel the drool that strings down onto the counter.

“Mhm, mhm,” pushing back with all the strength she can muster, bum lifting to meet Harry’s pelvis. “Daddy.”

“Okay, darlin’, it’s okay. Need you to come f’me,” framing fingers coming together to form the perfect swipes over her clit—the extra stimulation she needs to just push her over the edge and send her toppling. He feels the way she starts to throb, feels the way the muscles in her legs lock, keeps rubbing to carry her through as her weak whimpers trail into wet sobs.

Y/N practically loses consciousness as her orgasm hits her; squeezes Harry’s hand so tight he hisses for reasons other than his strangled cock. Her knees buckle and her limbs lose competence. Harry moves both hands to her waist, hauling her up and onto her toes as he quickens his pace, lewd slicking and the thud of their bodies the only sounds to ever exist.

And she keeps squeezing, the aftershocks strong enough to pull Harry with her, to force him to slip out frantically before painting stripe after stripe onto her ass, her back. She shakes her head against the hard countertop—never before has she felt such a jarring loss, such a painful transition. Inside, she wanted it inside.

Harry stands behind her, slowly tugging, squeezing out every last drop onto her skin. His legs don’t quite shake like Y/N’s but the exertion, the overwhelming orgasm has his head spinning a bit. But not when he registers his submissive’s wet face, drenched in sweat and tears alike, unable to be peeled from where it lays heavily on the counter. He wisens up entirely, cooing soft, easily digestible words as he cleans her skin with a soft tissue. Swipes in between her legs slowly, careful to avoid unwanted pressure, and straightens her back as thought he might have broken it.

Her eyes are glossy, not fully present but it doesn’t bother him. She looks tired, pupils tracking his face with a lag. But tired means he’s done his job well, tired means all other thoughts fail to penetrate.

They could do with a shower, a sleep, a good meal… but Harry can’t deny the desire to just sit with her for a moment. To untuck a less than comfortable stool and hold her on his lap, chin nestled against her neck. To kiss mindlessly along the slope of her shoulder and massage his fingers into her scalp, to have her doze off on top of him, completely void of tension.

And when she wakes up, he’ll let her eat cake for lunch.

Harry hopes he doesn’t appear too grumpy on the drive to Niall’s. He’s just… well he is grumpy, because he’s going to miss Y/N. And it dawns on him on that journey, just how much he’s going to fucking miss her.

It shouldn’t be so hard to tell her—not when he feels it so fervently. Maybe it makes Harry selfish for wanting her to say it first but he tells himself that’s why he’s waiting. Not because he’s worried but because he wants Y/N to be brave.

And it weighs on him, every goodbye being void of those three little words. It weighs on him but it still doesn’t mean he says it any sooner.

Y/N buzzes beside him, practically vibrating in her seat. She turns her seat warmer on, adjusts the aircon, switches the radio station, turns her seat warmer off, rummages around in Harry’s glove box for nothing in particular.

She’s nervous. She’s excited but she’s nervous—and even a blind man would be able to tell. Harry lovingly wishes he maybe could be blind, or better deaf, as she prattles on; terminally diagnosed with verbal diarrhoea as he ums and ahs to appease her. He stopped listening when she started rattling off facts about pigeons (pigeons, for Christ’s sake), focusing intently on the road alongside his own internal battles.

Harry doesn’t mean to suggest he doesn’t enjoy her borderline insanity—he does—he’s head over heels in love with her insanity. She entertains him thoroughly without even trying to and he thinks he could only list on one hand the times he hasn’t been completely endeared with her.

But he can forgive himself for zoning about when it comes to pigeon facts, no matter how interesting it may be that the species were entirely domesticated, and then abandoned by humans.

“I need a wee,” she complains, shifting her seat belt so it stops pressing into her bladder.

“‘s alright, only five minutes away.”

“I know,” she whinges, starting to tug at the hem of her sleeve. Harry sees her incessant fiddling out of the corner of his eye, placing his upturned hand on her thigh as a silent ask for her own. Y/N takes the bait, and a calm settles over them.

When they pull up outside Niall’s place, he’s leaning against the hood of his car, squinting at his phone. At the sound of tires over gravel he looks up and grins, elation taking over his face. And however desperate Y/N might have been to go to the bathroom, and no matter how excited her friend is, she doesn’t dare to rush getting out of the car.

She slings her arms around Harry’s neck, bidding farewell as if she’s going abroad and not just an hour away. But Harry doesn’t laugh, he hugs her back just as tight, inhaling the freshness of her skin—desperate to keep her scent with him until she gets back. He presses kisses into the side of her head, warm palm rubbing her lower back—usually he might be reassuring her with gentle words but right now he can’t find it within himself to do so.

He doesn’t want her to go.

And he’s a grown, adult man—not some lovesick teenager. She’s going for three days. THREE. But Harry still hasn’t said I love you and each departure feels more and more dangerous.

“You’re gonna have such a lovely time,” he pulls back to kiss her cheek and her lashes flutter like little butterfly wings. A knuckle down the bridge of her nose and teasingly flicking underneath to make her giggle. “Text me when you arrive, okay?”

“Yeah,” she hums, less than subtly leaning in, hoping he’ll kiss her like they do in the movies. An incapacitating kind of kiss. And Harry delivers like it’s his profession, devouring hands overwhelming in their cradle of her head, directing her movements as he teases the corner of her mouth with a gentle press of his lips. He wishes he could take more time. He wishes Niall weren’t right outside the fucking window probably simpering at the sight. He wishes he could give her more than just a chaste sponging of their mouths, followed by a flurry of departing pecks.

He wishes he could just say the fucking words.

A knock sounds from behind Harry’s head—knuckles on glass—and the muffled sound of Niall’s teasing, “Get a move on, you two! We’ve got to leave today,” and Harry meets Y/N’s gaze, rolling his eyes obnoxiously whilst she laughs. Their bubble has been popped, and she’s opening the car door, bounding over to her friend all foolishly as she playfully berates him. Harry’s mouth curls up into a small smile, sliding out of the car and silently getting Y/N’s suitcase whilst amusedly shaking his head.

He even gets a coy, “Thanks, handsome,” a twinkle in Y/N’s eye as she embarrasses herself in front of Niall to make Harry’s heart jump. The two men hug and pat one another on the back, exchanging pleasantries and agreeing that it’s been too long. But it’s unnecessary to hang around, and Niall makes some comment about how he needs to take care of something he’d nearly forgotten, so Harry pulls himself away and tries not to watch Y/N in the rearview mirror as he pulls back out onto the road.

It follows him around for the rest of the day, his lack of courage, of flexibility. The fact that a more than capable CEO—a dominant—couldn’t say I love you to his partner. He’s not embarrassed, no it runs deeper than insecurity, but he’s frustrated. And Harry has never been irrational but perhaps Y/N has been rubbing off on him because he finds himself starting to panic.

What if there’s an accident? There’s an accident and Harry never gets to tell her… He has to stop those thoughts before he finds himself calling her up to demand her life status, and then again thirty minutes later, and another thirty minutes. But it’s not so irrational, he can’t help but believe. Accidents happen all the time—and Harry can’t stand going any longer without telling her how bleak his life would be without her.

It doesn’t help to scroll through social media. A fucking philosophy. Not when life starts showing you godforsaken signs. A friend getting married here, a newborn baby there. Everyone coupled up and happy—basking in love without boundaries. Love without hesitation and fear. Harry wants to give that to Y/N. He has that love for Y/N, and he’s positive she has it for him too.

So he exits out of Instagram and starts to look through his own personal social media—his camera roll. Harry has more photos on his phone of Y/N than he does his parents, his sister, his friends. The folder he’s titled simply with her name holds a number of images that might indicate he harbours strong feelings for the girl.

In their short but staggering relationship, thus far, Harry has taken seventy two photographs of Y/N. More if he were to count the ones he deleted after a panicked spam to capture the moment before it passed. He swipes through them slowly—one of Y/N asleep in his bed, naked back pretty in the morning light. One of her sitting across from him at their favourite café, caught off guard in an authentic smile that he can never get out of her when he asks her to pose. He treasures that one. A photo of her laying on lucious grass, arms and legs spread out like she is trying to make some sort of snow angel without the snow. A photo of her wet from the pool, droplets littering her skin as she sunbathes unaware—and then a subsequent photo of when she spotted Harry with his phone directed at her, and scrunched her nose up in disgust. He’d looked at that one for ages.

He wonders what she’s doing now. Knows they arrived not long ago, from her bubbly text message adorned in exclamation marks and emojis. Wishes he could’ve seen her reaction when they pulled up outside the place—a luxury health spa. The perfect place for a neurotic who has an affinity for smelling and feeling nice. She had sent him screenshots; the reaction she’d had over text when Niall admitted to her how he’d booked their visit.

Y/N this room is incredible omg how did you get us in here with such short notice?

Niall right??? don’t need a spa just need this bedroom I BOOKED IT IN HARRY’S NAME LOL no I’m kidding, I’m kidding… okay, I’m not kidding but I phoned him straight afterwards I knew he’d be fine with it I paid him for my room and stuff don’t worry desperate times called for desperate measures and I knew his name would get us a stay

Y/N NIALL YOU ARE INSANE YOU CAN’T DO THAT how did you have his card details what the hell??? actually don’t tell me i don’t want to be liable by association when you get arrested or whatever

Niall aiding and abetting? is what it’s called, I think ANYWAY YOU WORRY TOO MUCH HARRY IS FINE WITH IT now HURRY UP!!!!! I want to go the in hot tub 😋 in the*

She’d followed the photos up with thank you, harry. wish you were here to enjoy it too x—and it had only made him miss her more.

Y/N and Niall's luxurious long weekend goes by too quickly. And despite her words being true—that she wished Harry could be with them—Niall, unsurprisingly keeps Y/N wonderfully distracted. It’s a relief that she hasn’t become insufferable since dating someone. That she hasn’t turned into one of those people who bring up their partner in every. single. conversation. That she’s not just moping around waiting to go home and ruining Niall’s enjoyment. Y/N actually finds herself to be… content.

Yes, she misses Harry. She misses sleeping in his bed, in his arms. She misses walking into a room and seeing him just existing. But it doesn’t stop her from lounging in the hot tub with Niall and giggling over gossip. It doesn’t stop her from going to a pilates class and instantly regretting it. It doesn’t stop her from getting a massage so good she nearly falls asleep—although she may admit to pretending the woman administering the massage is in fact her dominant, with suddenly much smaller hands—but that’s neither here nor there.

And when Monday morning rolls around, she’s loose-limbed and fresh-faced—and very much excited about seeing Harry again. What she doesn’t know is that he’s been excited about seeing her again since he dropped her off… and is having the closest thing to a mental breakdown over their lack of communication.

He wakes up disgruntled; a night of tossing and turning and bags slowly procuring under his eyes. He wakes up and showers. He eats and he glances over his emails. He’ll be ‘working’ from home today, without a doubt.

It feels as though the only thing that can capture his attention is the clock—each hand ticking slower than the last. Y/N won’t be home until midday at least, but Harry can’t find himself able to concentrate on anything else.

It seems the universe has it out for him, when he switches the television on and Y/N’s favourite rom com blares through the speakers. During her favourite scene, of course. He wants to switch it off—not through distaste but through yearing—through painful reminder. But he can’t; not only because he adores the movie too but because the scene in which Y/N loves so much is just that. The climax of the film, the moment everybody has been waiting for—the love confession.

“For fuck’s sake,” he curses to the empty room. Because it’s typical, isn’t it? That coincidence would strike at this moment in time. That out of all the channels and all the TV shows, the films that could’ve been on at eleven thirty on a Monday morning, it’s this one. He doesn’t really watch it. He’s seen it enough times to know what happens. But it helps him decide something. It helps him ignore any and all previous stances on the matter—fuck making her say it first.

Harry knows she loves him and he gets in his car to tell her so, leaving the television murmuring quietly—two besotted characters lost in an embrace to the sound of his front door clicking shut.

Niall drops Y/N home at approximately the same time Harry leaves his. Of course, Y/N doesn’t know this, and she would’ve appreciated a warning—maybe the chance to have a cup of tea and unpack her case first. But she’s feeling vibrantly recuperated—thoroughly pampered and sucked into the blissful dreamworld of a weekend at a spa, and it hardly crosses her mind to question why Harry turns up so chaotically.

Why he knocks on her door instead of just coming straight in, why he tugs her into him as though she’s just been rescued, why he pulls back just to ask a less than sensical question. "Why won't you say it to me?"

Perplexed silence. Y/N's fingertips linger on the door handle as she tumbles back from his embrace, her gait once relaxed and happy—now stiff and unsure. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks Harry’s just wasted all of his money paying for that long weekend.

"Harry?" It hasn't clicked yet, what he's talking about, but it still sits heavy in her gut—heavy and unanswered.

"Why won't you say it, darling?" He looks desperate... it doesn't compliment him well; it makes Y/N nervous. Harry is a suit without creases, shining shoes, perfect hair kind of man, but right now he vibrates on her doorstep in two day old sweats and hand combed locks. In fact, he can't seem to keep his fingers out of those runnels—creating new ones with each breath Y/N's voice fails to break the silence.

"Say what?" She practically begs it. Say what? Please, please, please. Tell me, let it be okay, let it be simple. "I'll say anything you want, Harry," it doesn't evade her that perhaps she should hear him out first. But it's as she whispers the commitment that she realises it. That she would say anything he wanted to hear… for Harry, Y/N would perform absurdities.

Usually shimmering jade now refuses to glisten in the light, green from a marsh or a bog. Y/N misses the viridescence. Harry releases a breath, lashes swatting heavily against his under eye. "You know, you— I need you to know."

And then… suddenly, she does. Suddenly, she’s kidding herself if she pretends she doesn’t know. It clicks—it clicks and Y/N’s heart stutters. This is cruel of Harry, so cruel. He sent her away to relax and now he’s setting up something fanciful just to make a mockery of her.

“That’s not fair,” she wobbles, in word and posture. Her knees start to feel weak, her chest tightens, the image of Harry before her—still hovering outside—starts to thicken. Y/N takes a step back, and Harry one forward. He shuts the door behind him, free from the chill of the wind, now trapped inside.

“Not fair? What do you mean?”

This—this isn’t how Harry talks, this exasperation, this urgency. He takes care of her, he tells her what she means when she speaks. Y/N doesn’t figure that out on her own. Harry always… he always knows. Why doesn’t he know?

Y/N turns her back on him when the corners of her eyes start to burn. A pathetic breakdown of emotion, she thinks. “You must know I’ve just been waiting… waiting for the day. Been so patient, my love. Please talk to me.”

“I can’t,” her words swallow one another, throat thick and wet.

Harry rushes round to see her, his eyebrows uncomfortably pulled towards the centre of his face. There’s a migraine brewing behind his eyes. “Yes, you can. You can, darling,” chilled palms hold her head up. Y/N wants to shake them off but the temptation is smothered the mere second it arrives. “What are you so afraid of? S’just me.”

“Can’t—can’t… can’t,” scalding tears tip over her waterline, streaming down and over the knuckles of Harry’s thumbs as they brush over her quivering cheeks. She inhales a shaky, shallow breath. “Need you. Need to keep it—this—safe.”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe, Y/N?”

“I’ll ruin it, I’ll—I’m not—” she closes her eyes, “You can’t possibly—”

“—Love you?”

The mere suggestion of it punches the air from her lungs. Despite the fact he’s not saying it to her, it might as well have the same effect. She shakes her head, dislodging a tear.

“I love you, Y/N.” She shakes her head harder. “I love you so much.”

“No,” it’s a thick, ugly cry. “You can’t, I’m— I’m no good, I’m annoying.”

And Harry… Harry does something borderline offensive. Harry laughs in her face. He laughs loudly and he laughs boldly, carving out a crease in between Y/N’s eyebrows.

“I love you,” he says again. And he feels so, so miraculously light, after fretting over it for so long. After hearing her only excuse be that she doesn’t feel deserving of it… well. Harry doesn’t think that’s so hard to help her with, after all. “I love you.”

“Stop,” she weeps, face begging to hide but Harry’s hands hold it up. He’s just a blur before her.

“Hey, hey,” the pads of his thumbs are soaked but that doesn’t stop him from trying to wipe her face. “Look at me—come on, pretty girl, that’s it.” Y/N can feel her bottom lip wobbling. “Do you remember… a few weeks ago, when you were upset—”

Y/N snorts—she can’t help herself—the self-loathe overrules.

“—Oi. Yes, I know, don’t say it. You were upset and you accidentally dropped that plate, yeah? You remember? And I bought you flowers and you felt bad the next day because you didn’t notice?”

Yes. Yes, she remembers that. She’d felt so bad. So embarrassed when she’d asked him where they’d come from, and he’d admitted he wanted to give them to her yesterday when he got home. Too wrapped up in her own despair to realise—too selfish, and dramatic, and ridiculous—

“Hey—don’t think about it, I’m not— I mean,” he stops and sighs, rakes his hand through the back of her hair. “I buy you flowers with meaning, yeah? Yellow tulips, white gardenias…” Y/N nods slowly, confused but fond of the memory of those yellow tulips indefinitely. “Those flowers I bought a few weeks ago… they were red roses, baby. They symbolise love—they mean I love you. And I was going to tell you if you’d asked but… well, it didn’t happen—And I’m not blaming you, I’m not, but I can’t not say it anymore. And I need you to want to say it back to me darling.”

Y/N starts crying again—she never exactly stopped but the tears had paused momentarily to allow Harry his room to speak. But now? Now they’re under no semblance of control. She paws at his t-shirt, words garbled but he knows what she’s saying, “I love you, Harry. I love you s-so much,” and it’s never sounded more beautiful. It’s a mess, and it’s far from romantic—snot and tears coalescing into one big disaster—but Harry still kisses her.

He kisses her and he smiles, laughing when she laughs through her sobs—saying it over, and over, and over again. “I love you,” he whispers, and she echoes it back through waves of emotion. “You’re it for me, you know that?” And Y/N can’t bear to hear it. She’ll still struggle to believe him, for many months to come, they’re both sure.

“But—” she pulls back, swipes furiously at her face with no impact, “—the roses— they died, Harry. Does that mean your love died with them?” It’s a ridiculous notion; of course Harry laughs. “Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything!” He’s grinning, and Y/N can��t help but mirror his expression. How could she stop her lips from twitching upwards at such a sight? Harry tugs her to his chest, squeezes her so tight she might just get stuck there, and holds her for as long as it takes for their heartbeats to return to normal.

And when they do, he tucks his lips against the top of her head and asks, “Does this mean you’ll quit your job now?”

Y/N takes a moment to ponder her reply… and then he… he feels her smile into his chest before she leans back and looks up with the prettiest, cheekiest, little grin, “Maybe,” ducking out of his embrace and starting to slowly waddle backwards, “if you can catch me.”

Harry doesn’t even do her the courtesy of a head start.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #domrry #writing #mutually beneficial #dom!harry

742 notes · View notes

mapiforpresident · 2 months

Note

Can you please do an Alexia x reader x child? Maybe its the child's first day of preschool or something? Thank you!!!

Off to Preschool

Alexia x reader x child

Summary: Its your sons first day of Preschool and your wife is not handling it very well.

~~~

You and Alexia had been married for six years now. You had met when you transferred to Barcelona, and she immediately fell in love with you. She had proposed to you on a vacation to Greece four years ago. You didn't think it was possible, especially when she is grumpy, but you continue to fall more in love with her with each passing day. Three years ago, you expanded your family when you welcomed your baby boy Leo. He is the best son you could ask for, and you love seeing Alexia be a mother. Leo is a mini Alexia in almost every way, and when you don't find it frustrating, it is incredibly adorable.

You had found out you were pregnant with your second child three months ago. Leo was very excited to be a big brother, and you and Ale were very excited to expand your family.

It was today, though, that Leo would officially start preschool. You wanted him fully in preschool when you get into your later months of pregnancy and when you first had the baby. Alexia agreed with the idea but was also a nervous wreck. Normally, you took Leo with you to practice, and one of you or a teammate would watch him, but with having another baby, you figured it was time to start him in a school with a regular environment. This would be Leo's first time not being with his parents, Alexia's mom and sister, or close friends. He had grown up constantly surrounded by friends and family, so Alexia was nervous for him to be away from them without anyone familiar for the first time.

You and Alexia had toured this preschool and decided it was the best one for your energetic son. It had a large outdoor playground and many hands-on learning activities. Leo was very excited after his visit and learning about all the things he was going to get to do.

You had to leave in an hour to drop him off. You decided today was going to be his first day because you and Alexia both had a rare day off in case anything came up, and you needed to go get him.

Leo was currently sitting on the couch eating a bowl of fruit and watching his favorite cartoon, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

You stood in Alexia's arms in the kitchen as she voiced all her concerns like the overprotective mom she is.

"What if he gets hurt, or sick, or needs another set of clothes? Oh god, what if another kid is mean to him? What if he has an accident? He has only been potty trained a couple of weeks. What if he can't nap, and it throws his schedule off? What if he..." Alexia looked very stressed as she ranted, her arms practically clinging to you. Your presence was the only thing keeping her from fully panicking at this point.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's ok, amor. Breathe for me, please." You told her as you tried to calm her down a little. You watched as she took a deep breath and then held her face in your hands, moving her so she was looking directly into your eyes.

"Everything will be ok, amor. Leo is a very smart kid; he knows how to advocate for himself, and if anything happens, they will call us immediately. It is only a ten-minute drive, and we can go pick him up." She nods, feeling a little more reassured, especially by how confident you sounded that he would be ok. Alexia looked over to her son and saw how excited he looked and remembered how for the past couple of days all he could talk about was how he wanted to go to preschool.

Feeling the gazes of his mamas, Leo turned around on the couch, kneeling and leaning over the back. "Mama, Leo go to school now," Leo asked in his adorable little voice.

"Soon, bebé. Why don't you run upstairs and get your Spiderman backpack so we can make sure you have everything you need," Ale replied as Leo jumped off the couch. He brought his now empty bowl and used the stool you had in the kitchen for him to put his bowl in the sink. You ruffled his hair as he raced passed the two of you upstairs after saying, "ok, I be wight back." You were still working on his pronunciation of the letter "r."

"See, amor, he is going to be just fine. Why don't we have a relaxing day while he is gone? We can go to that cafe that is a block over from the preschool that we have been wanting to try, and then we can go for a nice walk. There are a couple of stores I need to go to. Leo needs some new pants because he is getting so tall, and we still need to buy a double stroller for when the baby comes," you said to her as you pecked her lips.

"That sounds good, amor. We will be right by the preschool in case anything happens, and I can spend a whole day alone with my sexy baby mama. I don't think we have spent a whole day alone since before Leo was born." She leaned down to peck your lips again as you heard Leo race down the stairs with his backpack on.

"I want kiss too, mama."

"Of course, mi bebé," Alexia said to him as she picked him up and placed kisses all over his face. You loved watching them both as they giggled and Leo wriggled in his mother's grasp.

"Mommy, save me, mama attack me," He squealed out as you reached out and took him from Alexia's grasp, joining in the laughter.

"Do you want to wear your Batman or Superman shoes today?" You asked him as you set him down and checked that everything was in his backpack.

"Superman," He yelled as he raced off to put his Velcro shoes on.

"On the other feet, mi amor," Alexia called after him as she went to help him.

You grabbed his backpack off the counter and went to get him a sweatshirt, knowing it was a little chilly today, even though he most likely would refuse to put it on.

"Ready to go?" you asked him after you had put on your own shoes. He nodded his head enthusiastically as you opened the door heading towards the car.

Alexia lifted him into his car seat. "Leo try, mama." Leo told her, attempting to buckle himself in. Ale chuckled as he somehow got it twisted around his arm, helping him start over before he finally buckled himself with a triumphant grin as he said, "Leo big boy."

"You are, baby," You replied from the front seat.

~~~

About an hour later, you and Ale were sat in the cafe you had talked about earlier, you thoroughly enjoying your kid-free meal and coffee, relishing in the calm atmosphere and having one-on-one time with your wife. Ale, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck, biting her nails and checking her phone every two seconds to make sure she somehow didn't miss a call from the preschool.

"Amor... amor..... amorrrrrrrrrr," you said to her. She finally glanced up at you, seeing the small smile on your face.

"What?" she asked as she asked confused why you were smiling and staring at her.

"He is ok, mi vida. He is probably having the time of his life doing a science experiment or kicking a football on the playground."

"I know, I know, I just can't help but worry. He is my baby boy, and I can't stand the thought of something happening to him."

"How about after we pick him up, we take him for ice cream at the park? We can even invite Mapi and Ingrid. I haven't seen baby Hugo in a few days. Maybe he'll take his first steps today; Ingrid said he was really close."

"That's a good idea, amor. I will text Mapi right now. Leo will like that too; they have the chocolate ice cream that he likes."

The two of you finished your coffees and pastries, enjoying your time together and laughing at memories you have shared like your first date and your very awkward first kiss.

You were incredibly grateful for the love you and Alexia shared and how much you balanced each other out. You both couldn't believe how amazing your little family is. You loved Leo so much and were excited to see him become a big brother.

#woso #woso x reader #fcb femení #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

550 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

Can I request Spencer x anxious, overthinker reader ? Maybe, overwhelmed or stressed, like almost burnout, but not quite. Because this semester at uni had just been way too much in every way. Thank you 💕 🌸

Thanks for requeting love, hope you're able to get a break soon!

cw: academic stress, reader has symptoms of anxiety

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

When Spencer gets home in the middle of the night, you don’t hear him over the sound of sizzling and your own racing thoughts.

“Hi,” he announces himself as he comes in, meeting your little jolt with a bemused look. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”

“Hey, how was your flight?” You whirl from the stove for the half a second it takes to brush a kiss against his cheek before turning back to keep pushing things around the pan. The momentary distraction is worth it for the emergence of Spencer’s smile, soft and fatigued. “Sorry, I was hoping to have this done before you got home.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says automatically. “The flight was good. I’m happy to be back.” He sets his bag down and rounds the kitchen island to lean against the counter beside the stove, peering at your face. “I hope you’re not making dinner just for me.”

“I’m going to have some too,” you reassure him. “I’m starving.”

Spencer’s expression shifts. You get the sense you’ve confirmed something for him. “It’s pretty late. Why haven’t you eaten yet?”

You wish you could say that you’d wanted to wait and eat with your boyfriend, but there’s never any point in lying to Spencer.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it until now,” you say. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“I know,” he replies. You know he does. You’d started venting about your workload before he left for the case, and he’d been kind about letting you continue to do so during your nightly calls when he was away. “Still, it’s a lot to be up until…” He glances at the microwave clock, unsure of what time it actually is. You can’t say you know, either. “Nearly three-thirty. How long have you been working for?”

You push the vegetables around in the pan, olive oil spitting and burning the skin of your hand. You feel Spencer’s stare narrow on you. “Since I got home, so seven-ish.”

He frowns. “You’re not feeling tired, are you?”

You’re not, though you don’t ask how he can tell. You look tired, you know. Every time you look in the mirror lately, you think of the word unkempt. Messy hair, dull skin, purplish crescent moons stamped under both eyes. But you don’t feel like you could sleep if you tried. There’s an urgency in your blood that gets you up early every morning and propels you to work through the day, like there’s an engine inside of you that’s decided it doesn’t need gas to run. You’re always moving, humming, thinking, certain without reason that if you stop it’ll all fall apart.

You shake your head, and Spencer frowns towards the pan. “What do you have left to do with this?”

You’re surprised to find, upon looking down, that the vegetables look ready. “Um,” you switch the heat off, “I’m just waiting for the timer to finish on the pasta, and then I’m going to mix them together. It shouldn’t be long.”

“Okay.” He takes the spoon from you, moving you out of the way with a careful hand on your shoulder. “I can handle that. You should go sit down.”

“Spence,” you laugh, “I can do it.”

He doesn’t argue with you, necessarily, just utters a quiet, “It’s okay,” and nudges you in the direction of the couch.

You don’t have it in you to protest much, not when he’s just gotten home, so you do, curling up with your feet underneath you and pulling a blanket from over the side of the armrest. You think Spencer is going to want to talk, but he doesn’t, just stirring the pasta and pulling dishes out of the cabinet. Maybe he’s exhausted, too. It is late, and he’s been working on his case the same way you’ve been chipping away at your schoolwork, for days and days with little reprieve.

You thank him when he passes you a bowl, slurping up the noodles the way your mom would chide you if she were here for and comforted by the fact that Spencer’s doing the same. You’re convinced the pasta somehow tastes better than if you’d finished it yourself, your boyfriend’s poor culinary skills supplemented by the love he puts into taking care of you.

“You know,” he says after a minute, “there’s evidence to suggest that consistent sleep loss can lead to loss of brain cells.”

You suck a noodle into your mouth. “I sleep,” you tell him. “I’m just having a late night.”

Spencer gives you a sorry sort of smile. Like he almost wants to apologize for how smart he is, how it keeps you from getting away with anything. “I’ve only been gone for four days,” he says, “but you were texting me after I went to sleep and before I got up every morning.”

“Only psychopaths look at timestamps,” you joke, looking down into your pasta bowl.

He shrugs, quiet.

“What else can I do?” you ask, and you really are asking. “I have deadlines, Spence. Due dates. I can’t just say fuck it and go to sleep at nine every night like I don’t still have work left to do.”

“Which part is overwhelming you?” he asks curiously.

You huff. Not at him. “All of it? It’s like every one of my professors thinks they’re my only class. There’s a bunch of essays and projects all due this week, and no break from the regular stuff to give me time to get it done.” You blink into your pasta bowl, ashamed at the emotion bullying its way into your voice. Blame it on fatigue, you guess. “Every day when I get home from class, I have this impossible list of things to do, and it’s like, if I don’t finish, what’s going to happen? My grades will tank, and I won’t be able to get any of the good internships, and then I won’t get a job, and—”

“It’s okay.” Spencer’s voice is quiet, and you might keep going if not for the hand he sets on your wrist. His thumb strokes once over the delicate skin just below your palm. “It’s okay, just try to breathe for a second. Calm down.”

You do, only because it’s him. When other people tell you to calm down, it’s a demand, a criticism of your display of feeling. When Spencer does it, it's an assurance. That you can relax, because he’s going to make it all right.

“I failed three classes when I was in college,” he tells you.

You imagine your eyes bulging all the way out of your head on cartoon springs, lolling towards the ground. “What?”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I didn’t like them. I never showed up to class, and eventually I just failed. I didn’t really care.” His mouth slants sheepishly. “I probably should have, but I still don’t, actually. You can get a job either way.”

Your laugh is dry. “Spence, I think it’s a little different for genius prodigies.”

“Not really,” he says, thumb still pressing into your wrist, and you finally realize he’s been taking your pulse. It’s strangely touching, the way he cares for you so quietly. “Even if you did fail these classes because of the assignments this week, the odds are actually pretty good that you could get a job. And you won’t fail, because you’ll still finish and the work will be great. I know you.” His long fingers stretch up your forearm, a caress. “I know you get really nervous about these things, but you’ll do better work if you sleep more. You’ll be more efficient.”

“I can’t,” you admit quietly.

A tiny, sympathetic crease appears between Spencer’s brows. “You can,” he promises. “I’ll make you some nighttime tea and we’ll make sure all the curtains are closed. We should turn off your alarms, too.”

You bite your lip. “I have class in the morning.”

“You can miss one. You have to miss a lot for it to really affect your grade, trust me.” He gives the base of your hand a little squeeze. “I’d know.”

Your laugh is half breath, but Spencer smiles anyway. “Okay.” You’re giving in way too easily, but a morning spent in bed with your boyfriend sounds heavenly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says sincerely, releasing your hand to pick up his fork. “We’ll go to bed once we finish this, okay? And I’ll pick up breakfast tacos for breakfast tomorrow. Protein is good for brain function.”

466 notes · View notes

dreaming-medium · 7 months

Text

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 2

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Titfucking - Hyunjin

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Hyunjin was always staring— he wasn’t as conspicuous as he originally thought. It’s time to take matters into your own hands.

———————————————————

It was about six months into your relationship when you clocked Hyunjin’s slight obsession with your chest.

Well, slight is putting it gently.

In the beginning you chocked it up to him just being a man with wandering eyes and a libido to challenge that of a Roman emperor. After all, it’s not uncommon for one to stare, especially when you wear a lower collared shirt.

Then, the first time the two of you went to the club together as a couple, he could not keep his hands to himself the entire time. Even surrounded by all of your friends, when he danced behind you, his thumb would ‘accidentally’ brush the underside of your tits.

Most mornings when one of you stays over at the other’s apartment, you’ll wake up with his arms around you. His hips will be pressed against your ass and one hand up your shirt, cupping your naked breast.

His morning wood would harden the more he woke up and he would continuously fondle you even more until he eventually straddles you and fucks you like your life depends on it.

You catch Hyunjin staring all the time.

It doesn’t bother you, no, not in the slightest. In fact, quite the opposite. You absolutely love the extra attention he gives your chest.

As someone who’s had extreme sensitivity there for your entire life, it feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. Well, both of you did.

If the two of you are spooning on the couch watching a movie, all it takes is one lithe hand slithering underneath your shirt and you’re suddenly the horniest you’ve ever been.

And the bastard knows it, too. It’s a win-win situation for the both of you. Especially when you get to be on top. You get to ride Hwang Hyunjin and he gets to watch your tits bounce before his very eyes like a private show.

Still, even after all this time, he will not admit to your face how much he gets off thinking about your tits and your tits alone.

But, that was all going to change tonight if everything was going to follow your plan.

With a new comeback just a month away, the poor thing has been stressed out of his mind. Every morning, Hyunjin wakes up before you and goes to bed after you.

Lately, you’ve taken to sleeping and basically living out of his apartment just so he can hold you at night.

There’s a few texts throughout the day; he’ll send you selfies of his stage outfits, videos of choreography, voice notes of random stories about the boys. But you’d be lying if you said your thoughts were less than pure when consuming whatever he gives you.

In one video, he was showing you the new choreo to a song and the only thing you were able to focus on was the movement of his hips. How is he able to do that so fluidly?

That was your final straw.

It was Friday night, he didn’t have to be at the studio until early afternoon tomorrow. And you planned on using that to your advantage.

Hyunjin was going to walk through that door any minute now, and he had no idea what’s waiting for him.

It’s close to midnight when the apartment door opens.

“Hyunjin!” You call out from the bedroom, “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” he calls back to you. He kicks his shoes off by the door and throws his keys into the bowl on the table. “You will not believe the day I had.”

“Oh, yeah?” you answer. “Would you mind helping me with something? You can tell me all about your day while you do so.”

You cannot help the sing-songy mischievous timbre to your voice. It seems to go right over his head since he continues talking.

“Minho drilled us on choreography all day,” he whines. “Some of the others didn’t get the foot work right away so we kept doing it over and over again.”

His voice gets louder the closer he walks to the bedroom.

“Towards the end of it I just wanted to—“

Hyunjin immediately stops talking, a gasp catching in his throat.

There you stood in front of the full length mirror in one of the skimpiest bikinis he’s ever seen in his entire life. The fabric barely covered your most intimate areas, straps wound around your entire body.

A metal heart sat right underneath the valley of your breasts.

Every thought Hyunjin has ever had in his entire life has flown out the window. Gone with the wind.

“Do you like it?” you ask innocently, not turning to look at him fully. You’re playing a game with him and he doesn’t even know it. “The girls and I have that weekend spa trip coming up and I wanted to get some new suits. I tied a knot in the back and I can’t get it undone.”

Hyunjin stands in the door, his mouth opening and closing over and over again.

“Hyunjinnie?” a barely contained smirk graces your lips and you turn to look at him. Batting your eyelashes innocently, you twist your body around for him to see everything.

“It’s—“ his voice is hoarse when it comes out, so he clears his throat. “It looks gorgeous on you, Y/N. But, ah… are you sure you want to wear that to the spa? What if you get tan lines, you don’t want that, right? All those… strappy tan lines.”

You giggle at his rambling.

“I was thinking the same thing, baby. But, I still need help getting it off.”

Hyunjin clenches his jaw and walks over to you, his feet padding on the carpeted floor.

Instead of turning around when he gets close to you, you wrap your arms around his neck. Like second nature, he rests his own around your waist.

His bare hands on your skin feel so warm and soft, you shudder at the touch.

Standing up on your tiptoes, you press your barely clothed chest against his. His grip on your waist tightens.

“I’m so sorry you had such a rough day, Jinnie,” you murmur to him. Hyunjin stares down at you, a pink blush slowly dusting his cheeks.

You lean forward and press an extremely gentle kiss to his soft lips. His hands spread out on the sides of your rib cage and hold you closer to him.

It’s just a peck of your lips against his, so when you pull back, he chases after you.

You don’t let him continue, you turn around in his grasp and lift your hair off your shoulders.

“Do you mind?” you say, looking back over your shoulder at him. His eyes narrow for a split second before he looks down at the knot in the back of the bathing suit.

You made sure to tie it on the looser side for this very purpose.

Dexterous fingers grab at the strap and he works quickly to try and unknot it. Within seconds the top loosens around your chest.

His fingers slide down the curve of your back gracefully, mapping each inch of skin. The featherlight touch has you shivering.

Hyunjin exhales shakily through his mouth and the hotness of his breath fans over your exposed skin.

Slowly, his fingers come around to grab your waist again. But, you reach down and grab both of his wrists tightly. You pull at his wrists a bit so he steps closer to your body.

As soon as his front is flush with your back, you can feel just how much he loves the bathing suit you’re wearing.

Inch by inch, you bring his hands up your skin. Over your ribs and up to your chest.

Hyunjin gasps quietly behind you and you can practically feel his cock jump in his pants. Another shaky breath leaves his lips.

Immediately, his hands slid under the flimsy fabric that was loose and ready to come off. The softest groan comes out of the back of his throat as soon as he cups both of your tits.

After a few seconds, you release his wrists and reach your arms back to wrap around the back of his neck.

Your head tilts back to rest against his collarbone, whines quietly falling from your lips.

Hyunjin’s fingers pinch your perky, hard nipples and you roll your hips backwards into his painfully hard erection.

“Fuck.” he hisses and pinches even harder.

Dipping down to your neck, Hyunjin latches his mouth onto the soft skin and licks wherever he is able to reach.

“Jinnie,” you mewl, “been thinking about you all day.”

Hyunjin hums against your neck in response, leaving love bites down closer to your shoulder. His preoccupied hands bring you even closer to his chest.

He can’t get enough of you, his hands paw at your chest, pinching, pulling, and kneading the soft mounds. His head is in the louds, every thought is fuzzy. The only thing he knew was that he never wanted to stop touching your soft skin.

It’s a good thing that your bottoms are meant to absorb moisture.

Behind his head, your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, wrapping around the strands and pulling slightly.

You turn your head to whisper right in his ear. “I want you to play with me how you’ve always wanted to, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin practically whimpers in response, his hips buck forward and he sucks hard where his mouth was.

You cry out, pushing your ass against him.

“I know you want to, baby. Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at me. How much you like fucking me in the mirror so you can see my tits bounce with each thrust of your cock.”

Hyunjin moans against your skin again, it sounds like he’s almost in pain from how aroused he is.

Both of his hands grip as much of your breasts as he could hold before turning you around in his arms. His lips immediately dip down and capture yours in a heated, wet, hard kiss.

His eyebrows are furrowed together and his hands travel back up your body to fondle your tits even further. The feeling goes straight to your core and you clench your thighs together. Your cunt aching for attention.

But tonight was about him, not you. Plus, you know there’s no way you’re going to bed tonight without cumming, not if Hyunjin had anything to say about it.

While your tongues slide over each other, you reach down and make quick work unbuttoning his jeans.

You also “accidentally” palm over his cock a few times, each time he moans into your mouth and you swallow the noise greedily.

Hyunjin pulls back for a split second to rip his shirt over his head, throwing it onto the ground carelessly. The entire time his eyes don’t leave your chest, as soon as his shirt is off, his hands are back on your breasts.

He can’t stop staring at how they look in his hands.

A long, heavy breath leaves his lungs when you push his pants and boxers down.

His cock springs free and he hisses at the cold air.

You get up on your tiptoes and pull his swollen bottom lip between your teeth. “Go lay on the bed, baby.”

His eyes are glazed over with pure lust. Hyunjin nods dumbly over and over and practically sprints to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

One of his hands absentmindedly pulls at his dick, his eyes stay zeroed in on your chest. The fabric of the bathing suit is doing nothing to cover your breasts anymore.

“What do you think, baby boy. On or off?” You ask, pulling slightly at the strings of the top.

Hyunjin gulps, leaning back on his elbows while his bottom half hangs off the side of the bed.

“O… On.” He answers heavily, lips parting, chest rising and falling with deep intakes of air. Truly, he didn’t care, you could do whatever you want to him at this point and he would beg for more.

You wink in response and walk over to the bed, swaying your hips with each step. His eyes rake over your figure, his Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp.

When you get to the bed, you sink down onto your knees, eye level with his cock which is completely rock hard and weeping precum at this point.

Keeping direct eye contact, you put your arms behind your back and lean forward, licking a fat stripe up the underside of his cock.

An absolutely feral, sinful moan reverberates off the walls. Hyunjin throws his head back in pleasure and one of his hands fists into your hair, pulling tightly.

You only smirk once you get to the tip. “Gotta get you nice and wet first.” You pull as much spit into your mouth as you can.

“Fuck, Y/N!” You see his cock jump at your words.

Your tongue swirls over his tip once before you take his entire dick in your mouth. Hyunjin’s hips buck into your mouth and he lets out a long, deep moan.

It’s the wettest blowjob you’ve ever given. Spit is leaking out of your mouth and onto his pelvis and then dripping onto the sheets. But you need him soaking wet for what you want to do.

Saliva drips down your neck and onto your chest.

Hyunjin’s eyes follow each drop and when his eyes flicker to yours, you wink. His hand tightens in your hair and he whimpers.

“You’re gunna fucking kill me, Y/N.”

Whine after whine, whimper after whimper. It’s all music to your ears.

Just when he really starts to get vocal, you lift your mouth off his cock and he howls at the loss of your warm mouth pleasuring him.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea how good this is gunna feel.”

When Hyunjin opens his eyes again to look your way, you let your tongue drop out of your mouth. His lust-blown pupils follow the mouthful of spit and precum that leaks downwards; it drips down your neck and into the valley of your breasts.

The way his face twists in pleasure, you would think he was in physical pain. His ears and cheeks are bright red. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth to try and conceal the noises he’s making.

“Y/N-!” Everything about his demeanor screams desperate. He’s wriggling on the bed, hips moving uncontrollably. The hand that’s not in your hair is clenching the sheets so tight his knuckles are turning white.

From behind your back, you reach your hand up and spread everything over your chest, getting it nice and wet. During the process, you make sure to bring your other hand up and pinch and pull your nipples, putting on a show for Hyunjin.

“Please,” he’s borderline sobbing at this point. “Please, Y/N.”

“Yeah, Jinnie?” you tease and lean forward, spitting on his cock again, pumping him a few times. “You wanna fuck my tits, baby boy?”

“Fuck!” Hyunjin throws his head back with a broken wail.

“You wanna put that long cock between my wet tits? You wanna fuck them nice and slow?”

“Yes! Fucking please!” He squirms on the bed. “It’s all I want, Y/N! Please!”

Deciding to be nice, you finally grab your tits in two handfuls, wrapping them around his cock and pushing together.

Hyunjin’s eyes roll back in his head and his back arches off the sheets. More babbles leave his swollen lips.

Slowly, you move your tits up and down on his cock.

He’s going insane, he knows he is. He’s been balls deep in your soaking wet cunt before, he’s had you ride him two ways to Tuesday– but this? Fuck!

The skin on your chest is so soft and warm and it’s so fucking filthy.

With every pump, his dick leaks more and more.

“Jinnie,” you call out to him playfully.

He knows as soon as he looks down, he’s going to blow his load. But he cracks his eyes open anyway, his head lifting off the mattress to look you in the eye.

Right when he does, you stick your tongue out and lick the head of his cock as you pump downwards.

Every single one of his ab muscles clenches when he sees you, he cries out so loudly, his body curls inwards from the pleasure.

The more his cock leaks, the wetter it gets for both of you, and the easier it is to move up and down.

A long string of curses leave his lips as you pick up speed and squeeze your tits together even more.

Hyunjin’s hips begin to move in time with your pumps. Every wet dream he’s woken up from is finally coming true before his very eyes.

If the neighbors were sleeping, that was long over. Hyunjin has always been vocal in bed, but never like this.

Each lick is sending him closer and closer to the edge.

“So fucking good to me,” he blubbers, pulling at your hair and your sheets at the same time. His thighs begin to shake.

“Love this so much, baby. Love having your cock between my tits.”

He writhes around from your praise, “Close–! So close, Y/N!”

“Can’t wait for you to cum all over my skin, Jinnie. Might even let you take a picture, set it as your background.”

Picturing everything you’re saying does it for him. Hyunjin calls out your name loudly and his chin dips down to his chest. He yanks your hair in a vice grip.

Cum continuously shoots from his cock, and to put on a great show, you even stick your tongue out further.

To him, it feels like he’s cumming forever. Even after he’s completely empty, shots of pleasure shoot down his thighs every few seconds. It was definitely one of the fucking longest orgasms of his life.

Hyunjin’s mouth hangs open, he can’t seem to catch his breath. But that’s not at all what he’s paying attention to. He’s watching the cum dip from your tongue down onto your chest, the same way your spit had done minutes before.

His cock twitches and he winces from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, look at you.” he pants.

One of your hands moves and you use your finger to spread the cum all over your chest, over your hard nipples and eventually up to your mouth where you suck on the digit.

“So good for me, baby. How long until you can go again?”

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids kinktober #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz smut

971 notes · View notes

calmbeforethesunset · 6 months

Text

If you’ve seen my previous rolling tray it got a bit of an upgrade!

It’s always spooky season in my house and I turned my candy tray into my new rolling tray. Let me know what ya think 🥺🫶🏻🥰

25 notes · View notes

hellcatinnc · 3 months

Text

Guys Of Love & Deepspace Perfect Partner - SFW Edition

——————————————————————————————————

Warning This includes: SFW(Read Tags Before Continuing)

Tags: sfw, fluff, romantic, cuddles, snuggling, romance, poetry, kisses, french kissing, breakfast in bed, pet names, cuddles from nightmares, taking care of you when your sick, care, cooking together, food, movie watching

Feature: x Fem! Reader

——————————————————————————————————

Zayne

He challenges your mind and can talk to you about some of the most interesting things at times, however he can also bore you sometimes if he gets too lost in his medical advisories

if you ask nicely he will let you lay in his arms as he reads to you may not always be what you want to hear but its his way of comforting you

if you fall asleep on the couch he will carry you to bed and tuck you in, he doesn't want you getting chilly and catching cold

he will make you soup and make sure to have medicines on hand for you when your sick

he is the guy that when he kisses you he will always caress your cheek first before engulfing your lips into his

kissing is how he expresses his feelings sometimes when words escape him or he has a hard time expressing them. If he french kisses you while already kissing you then he is showing you the passion you bring out in him

he loves to take you to nice restaurants ones you been wanting to try and the money isn't a issue and he always pays even when you try he will take care of it before you even get a chance to try. He knows you don't have the money his job has and he wants to spend it on whatever your heart wants.

he loves taking you on vacations when his work allows its and tries to make as much time as he can to be on those vacations longer than just a day.

Even though he doesn't always show it due to lack there of knowing how to express how he feels sometimes, he is a doctor because he does care about people but he cares about you more than any of them and you should never forget that.

Most times he will use your name and not pet names but if your good and you beg him to show the endearments you might get him to call you honey or dear but in the bedroom you might just get called kitten if you ask nicely

he gives you the silent treatment when he is mad, but he can't stay mad with you long especially if you bug him and try to cuddle and kiss him he will forgive you in no time

he lectures you because he cares when it comes to your health and how you eat, granted you have to tune him out most times when you want that sweet piece of cake or that bowl of ice cream but he means well.

he is the guy that will put his coat around you when your cold

he carries candy with him all the time and in certain moments that may stress you out he will simply pull one out to make you smile again even if only for a little while

he has a sweet tooth but he tries to keep that from anyone knowing because well he is a heart doctor and telling people whats not healthy and to stay away from would just make him look like a hypocrite

he is very subtle when he does little things to impress you or let you know he cares, if you don't know him well enough you will miss these hints

he will carry an umbrella on rainy days and even when you forget yours, he may not say anything to you but when it starts pouring down he will just open his umbrella and put it over both of your heads

when he doesn't think your looking he will smile if nothing but for a moment because even though he spends so much time babbling about what you should do to change trust me he wants you just the way you are flaws and all even though he can't say it....yet!

he will call you after a late night at the hospital especially after a stressful day and although its a short call and you don't know why he is calling but its because after all the stress in his day your the only one that makes his heart a little lighter

he loves making little snow creatures for you to hold on to when he can't always be with you

he loves cats they fascinate him he loves to watch them as they bask in the sunlight or lay under a table. the first animal you two will probably get will be a cat

he likes sending you text messages some that are meaningless but they make him smile even if you can't always see him smile

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rafayel

He always spoons you every night before sleep

he is very romantic a bit of a hopeless romantic

loves to call you pet names like darling, baby, and honey

breakfast in bed when you worked so hard the day before

will run you bubble bath after a long day

never forgets birthdays, anniversaries, and especially not valentines' day this man lives for these holidays to shower you with gifts

he will stay by your side when your sick taking care of all your needs

he can be clingy but honestly in a good way its part of his charm

he does have abandonment issues but this means when he is loyal to you he will never ever leave you as long as you never leave him

he has lower self esteem than you think he does, he flirts and comes off that he has it all together but when he is vulnerable you can see the scared little boy under it all afraid to live without you and afraid he will mess it up and you leave

he will fall asleep with his head on your lap or lean against you so you can rub his hair

he may seem like a baby girl but down deep he really is just a genuine guy, yes a bit flirty but its all fluff to make you notice him because when you make those advances back you will leave him flustered.

he is very caring and will always be compassionate with your needs

he will always protect you and keep you safe. He is that guy that will pull you into his arms to shelter you from harm, or jump in front of a bullet if he feels its to save your life

he will fall asleep sitting on the couch, in a chair or against the wall because you had to work late and he refuses to go to bed without you.

he is the guy who likes matching shirts, or ones that say he is your is prince and your his princess

he will hold you hand any chance he gets but you can't just drop his hand whenever you want, when he slides his fingers between yours this isn't jsut regular pda he is telling you no matter where you are...you complete him!

he is the guy that will bring you an umbrella then pray you will put it aside and stand in the pouring rain with him. He will be that guy from romantic movie clique where he will pull you close while you are soaked to kiss your lips so tenderly you almost lose your breath.

he is very loyal and if he makes a promise its set in stone if he has to move heaven on earth or dive the lowest depths of the ocean he will make it happen

loves to recite poetry to you to show you his affection

he loves to give you compliments daily like your beautiful, stunning, a model or anything that makes you smile because that was his goal all along. He will do anything for that smile, that smile that you show to only him, its like no other smile that lights up your face and only he notices the difference.

He loves when you tell him about your day if you spend with friends or what not but he does get jealous if they made you smile because really he wants to be the only one that makes you smile. Then he might get pouty and ask if he can join next time.

he will take you to play the claw machine just so he can win every one of the plushies for you

he will take you to the arcade and he will play every game that gives him tickets so he can turn it in and surprise you with something you wanted from the prizes

he can be greedy when it comes to you, he is a introvert anyways so if he could keep you to himself and never share you well he would be in heaven

he likes to be playful in your banter with him he just enjoys this time together this is how he knows your the woman he wants to spend his life growing old with...yes he has been thinking about popping the question way before he should but he is waiting for the time to be the most romantic and when he doesn't think he will scare you away. Know this though he would have already married you if you would have let him.

he will carry your bags with no complaint

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Xavier

He likes to have a romantic night under the stars just you and him and a blanket with your favorite champagne or wine

he will keep the house clean and in order for you if your sick and can't do it because he knows it will be helpful for you

he will cook you a meal and alternate nights of when you cook and do the dishes however he isn't the best cook so be prepared to watch or help one

picnics are cute and sweet and he loves laying in the sunlight with you taking it all in and making memories

he is a good listener since he doesn't talk unless he needs to. He will lay with you for hours as you tell him the good and the bad in your day without every interrupting you or changing the subject.

he tries to be an optimist to keep you level when you feel like the world is caving in on you

when you cry he will be the first there to wipe those tears off your face and make sure you feel validated

he does have a mischievous/cheeky side to him that comes out when you least expect it

he will spend all day playing the claw machine even if he doesn't always understand the mechanics just so he can get the plushie you wanted most

he will turn on the shower and get your towel and stuff together just so you can have a nice hot shower...he might join you though ;)

he will go grocery shopping with you and carry those bags of groceries even though he complains a bit he really means nothing by it more of a banter than anything

he likes when you tug his shirt to let him know you don't want him to leave even if you didn't say it

he likes a good movie on the couch cuddled up next to you, after all the work he does everyday this is perfect way to relax with you in his arms.

he won't tell you but when you feed him things like strawberries by mouth you think he is focusing on the strawberries instead its the feel of your fingers touching his lips which make him want to kiss you, then when you put them in your mouth he can't take it any longer he will pull you in for a kiss by then.

he doesn't mind watching chic flicks with you and you talking about the lead actor being hot but he will sit there and tell you why all the reasons he is a better hunter and that this guy you find so hot to be the most horrible hunter he had ever seen...the green eyed devil bites him from time to time

when you fall asleep on him in a movie he will carry you to bed and tuck you in, he won't linger but thats because he respects you in that way

if you have a night mare he will run to your side comforting you. he will tuck your hair behind your ear, turn on the light by your bedside table and let you tell him about it, then he will tuck you back in bed and hold you the rest of the night to watch over you while you sleep

he likes to pick at you at times, like one night he woke you and you were calling his name, he reminded you that dreams are what you think about all day he will tell you with a joke that he knows now you were pining for him all day this is just some of his banter and fun ways he picks on you

when your hands are cold he will intertwine his fingers in your and rub them getting them nice and warm for you

if you find yourself in the hospital he will sit right there with you until your feeling better and can go home he will be very stern but thats cause he cares so if the doctor says lay down he will make sure you do if they say don't talk he will put his finger over your mouth to hush you. this is the serious side of him you never knew was there but he is worried cause you are in the hospital

he can be very over protective at times

when he has alone time with you he doesn't want to share it so he will mute your phone and his if it gets too annoying he will turn them off this is his time right now

he loves to snuggle into your lap and nuzzle into you this is the time you get to feel the closest to him, this is that bit of him thats vulnerable, that part that will admit that in his lifetime he has never met someone as special and as important to him as you are to him

he loves to sleep but has a hard time sleeping most places cause he always has his guard up but when he is in your arms he sleeps the best, soundly and feels safe with you even if he thinks he is the more skilled fighter

if you have something on your mouth he will lean into wipe it from your lips stealing a kiss while he is already there

he is very confident in himself even though he doesn't do well with others most times he is still comfortable in his own skin especially since your beside him touching that very skin as he loves when your caress his hands and arms when you are cuddled in a blanket on a cold day

718 notes · View notes

7ndipity · 4 months

Text

6:58pm/Moments Like This

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Just a soft lil blurb about cute, domestic intimacy with Yoongi and washing dishes together.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @ilys00ga for requesting this!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“Where do the measuring cups go?”

“Top left cupboard, just like the last time you asked.” He replied without looking up, a small grin slipping across his face as he washed your favorite mug.

“Why can I never remember that!” You groaned, following his directions. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s still new for you.” He said calmly, rinsing the cup and passing it to you to dry.

Dusk was just beginning to settle over the city outside, but you and Yoongi had already cooked and eaten dinner together, planning an early movie night since he had to be up early the next day.

Yoongi passed you another dish, his movements coming to a stop as he watched you, following the way you carefully dried the bowl with the dish towel and put it away, tripping slightly over your own feet as you turned, making him bite back another grin.

The simple routine had become the norm for the two of you since you had moved in with him, one of those things you did almost without thinking, but something about it made him feel…

Happy? Relaxed? Content? He wasn’t sure how to describe it exactly.

It was no secret that Yoongi loved subtle forms of intimacy; the tiny, little gestures that showed how you cared for each other, often so simple they could easily be overlooked.

The way you always brought him something to eat or drink when he was distracted or stressed with work, the hand he ghosted over your back to keep you close as you wove through a crowded space, or the way you helped make the bed together in the morning.

When you turned around again, you noticed his eyes on you.

“What?” You laughed, bemused by his sudden soft expression.

He shrugged. “I just love you.” He said simply.

“Yeah?” You moved closer, hooking your arms around his neck.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“I love you too.” You said quietly, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss.

Love, that was what he was feeling. The same thing he’d felt every time he’d looked at you since the day you’d met.

He felt love.

It was funny almost, how a feeling that was described as so big and all consuming was the most distinct and tangible to him in the quiet moments like this.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing his hands to your back to bring you closer.

“Your hands are wet.” You whined, squirming in his hold as the moisture seeped into the fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing.

“I don’t care, it’s my shirt.” He replied, reconnecting your lips.

He didn’t need some big gesture to know how you felt about each other, all he needed were moments like this.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi blurb #yoongi fluff #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi timestamp #bts blurbs #bts blurb #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts timestamps #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #7ndipity #7ndipity 2k celebration

550 notes · View notes

itsspiiit · 9 months

Text

Unexpected…

Parings: Hobie Brown x Reader

Summary:You’ve been staying up at ungodly hours due to the bountiful amount of work you had from school. Your good friend Hobie comes over one night to help you stop your stressing and sleep. But the night had different plans for you both.

Inspo: Wet by GRLWood

Warning(s): NSFW (mdni), mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, mentions of sex work, NOT proofread (cause I didn’t feel like it). If you see any errors… no you didn’t.

Thursday, 3AM

You sat at the desk in your room typing away on your laptop with a bowl of various fruits next to it. The flexi rod curls you put every ounce of arm strength you had into almost didn’t exist anymore. Your reading glasses slid from the bridge of your nose to the tip of it, making it easier to see the chanel bags slowly forming under your eyes. Unknowingly, your back hunched over the longer you sat down and tried to complete the third essay assigned to you this week.

You were exhausted. But you had a fuck ton of english work to do and insomnia kept you awake. Your regret for majoring in psychology grew with every indentation and word you typed on the keyboard.

Just as you were about to start typing the third to last paragraph, a soft rhythmic knock on the window startled you. Your body jolted at the unexpected sound causing your glasses to slide further down your nose. Using your middle finger to push them back to their proper position, you turned your head in the direction of the window and almost all of your stress left your body when you saw him.

Hobie, your best friend with the cool hair, stood outside with his contagious smile painted across his face as he waved at you with his long, slender, ring decorated fingers. His torso was covered halfway with a black crop top you ripped and designed for him and a spiked leather vest you spray painted the anarchy symbol on the back of. He wore black ripped jeans that were secured on his hips by a spiked belt and chains dangling from the belt loops.

Fuck, he looks so good.

Pushing your thoughts to the side, you pushed your chair back and stood up to open your window for for the 6’5 man. “Hey, Hobie.” You greeted him with a soft smile, watching him climb into your room and start to take his boots off before closing the window. He walked towards your bed and threw himself on it, placing his hands behind his head and crossed one leg over the other.

“Wagwaan.” He greeted back with a lopsided smile. His smooth, deep voice and british accent always sounded so sultry to you. Every time you guys talked it felt like a challenge to see how long you can keep your self respect before you up and pounced on him.

“Well,” you began to respond as you sat back in your desk chair and tossed a grape into your mouth, “it’s three in the morning and I’m trying to finish… what? Like… the third, fourth essay I was assigned? Been working on it since probably ten or eleven.”

His beautiful pierced face immediately fell into a shocked expression with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. “You haven’t taken a break, have you?” All you could is shake your head and let out a long stressful sigh as you looked at your computer screen with visibly tired eyes.

“Not only is it because I can’t sleep, but I wanna get everything done ASAP. My work is do on Sunday an-”

“It’s due Sunday?!” He cut you off, his tone bursting with disbelief. You felt a laugh bubbling up in your chest hearing his thick accent but held it in, reaching into the bowl and eating a pineapple chunk. “You know that’s in three days, right?” He continued as he pressed his elbows into your soft mattress and sat up giving you a look that read “are you serious?”

“Of course I know that, but-”

“But nothin’, mate. Close the computer.” He cut you off again, gesturing his head towards it.

“Hobie-”

“Close it.”

Not having the energy to go back and forth with him, your eyes rolled in annoyance and you shut your laptop. You turned your head in his direction and saw that a closed mouth smile was painted across his face. “Oh, you’re happy now?” You asked with a deadpanned expression.

A low chuckle escaped his throat watching you mug him as he nodded his head. The sound had you doing backflips mentally as your face began to heat up slightly. “Knowin’ that you aren’t nose deep into a screen goin’ mad about somethin’ that’s due in seventy two hours? Yeah, I’m quite happy.”

He swung his legs off your bed and sat up, reaching over to grab a mango chunk and tossed it into his mouth. As he chewed he saw your face drop into a “are you deadass?” look. He stopped chewing for a moment, awkwardly looked to the side and back to your face.

“Yeah, Hobs! You can take one!” You voiced with sarcasm as you threw your arms up and back down to your sides. He gave you an apologetic smile as he started to slowly chew the sweet and refreshing fruit again. “What made you come here at this time of night though? Can’t think of anywhere to steal from?” You asked playfully with a teasing smirk.

A light laugh came from him as he finished chewing before he responded. “I actually didn’t feel like stealin’ until you mentioned it.” You chuckled and shook your head at his antics. “But, nah. I couldn’t sleep and I knew you’d be up so I thought why not come over and bother you.”

“Ahhh… so what you do almost every day!” Both of you erupted into laughter at your comment. He knew that you were joking, and you knew you enjoyed his presence a little too much.

“Oh, come out of it. You know you love when I’m around.” He spoke as you guys’ laughter died down. Placing his hands on your bed, he leaned back bit and gave you a cocky smile.

Oh, he know he fine.

“Eh, sometimes.” You shrug playfully, reaching into the fruit bowl and munching on another grape. He reaches for the bowl again and takes a kiwi slice, but you don’t mind this time.

Once he done chewing he begins to speak. “Are you saying that because I always beat you in Uno?” You gave him a bored expression as you watched the smile on face grow.

“Hobie, please. You beat me that one time-”

“And I beat you three times in a row.”

You scoffed at his cocky behavior and crossed your arms. “I bet it won’t happen again.” You eyed him up and down with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He gave you the same look as one of his eyebrows lifted in feigned curiosity. “Is that a challenge?”

It was now four in the morning. You sat on your bed with your back against the headboard and the gorgeous punk sat in front of you with crisscrossed legs, his leather vest now off his shoulders and hung on the back of your desk chair. You guys were two intense Uno games in, Hobie being the winner of both of them.

“Uno.” He announced with a lopsided grin as he placed a yellow three card and red three card down at the same time. You were starting to lose hope. You held the two cards you had thinking hard about the multiple possibilities of how this game could end. Until…

“UNO OUT!” You exclaimed slightly with a proud grin as you slammed a red skip card and red eight card down. You finally won a game after what felt like hours of playing.

He also gave you a proud smile as he began to pick up all of the cards that were piled on your mattress. “You finally beat my streak. ‘M proud of you.”

The voice. The Smile. His Confidence. Now the praise. It was all slowly becoming too much. His comment made your heart beat a bit faster, waves of heat traveling from your head and down to your lower region. It caused your sensitive bud to throb gently, and you crossed one leg over the other to somehow bring it to a halt.

He’s gonna be the death of me, I swear.

“Wanna play another game?” He asked when he was done picking up all of the playing cards. You sighed softly as you crossed your arms and shook your head.

“Nah, I just wanted to beat you in at least one game of Uno. Got tired of you talking shit.” He chucked at your confession and wrapped the rubber band you used to keep the cards together back around them. “But we can play connect four if you’re down. I’ll definitely win the first game.”

“Oh, I’ve got to see this.” He spoke with a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll go get the game.”

He got off your bed and walked towards the closet, opening it and instantly scanning the top shelf for the box. You pulled your phone from underneath your pillows and scrolled through instagram as you waited for him to come back with the second challenge for the night. Your cluttered top shelf slipped your mind as you thought you wouldn’t even have company today.

When he found the game, he tried to pull it out of its position without knocking anything down. But it all happened so quickly. As he began to pull the Connect 4 box out, so did Candy Land which was right beneath it. He reached his unoccupied hand out to make sure that game didn’t fall in the process, but he didn’t know that these two board games were keeping a pink Shoe Dazzle box from falling as well.

He successfully got Connect 4 from your top shelf without another game falling, but he didn’t see the pink box making its way out of the closet as well. When it fell, it landed on the side which caused the top to fall off as it hit the floor. He looked down and watched what was inside of the box roll out in awe.

Various sex toys with different shapes, sizes and functions were now scattered across the floor in front of her closet. A pink massage wand, black seven inch dildo and a black silicone butt plug with a blue gemstone on the bottom of it were the main toys that caught his attention since they were so close to his feet. He wanted to speak. He tried to speak. But he was too stunned to try and even utter a word.

There’s no way she has all of this. Am I dreaming?

The sound of the box hitting the floor made you look up from your phone with a confused expression, but it was immediately taken over with disbelief and shock. Your eyes were so wide you’re surprised they didn’t fall out of your head. Your jaw hung so low it would probably hit the floor if you were standing. The gasp you let out was so sharp and loud it made Hobie turn his head in your direction. You can see the disbelief in his face as well and that alone made tears start to form into your eyes.

All you could do is grab a pillow and sit it on your lap, plop your head on it to hide your face and scream. Your face was so warm in embarrassment that it felt like it could melt off any second now. You can feel your friends stare on you, searching for answers in a way, but you couldn’t even look at the man.

There was a long, unbearable silence between the both of you. So much tension in the room that it could be cut with a knife. You sat with your face buried into your pillow, take deep breaths to calm yourself down before you finally built the courage to get off your bed and walk towards the “mess” that was created. Without looking at the handsome man next to you, you squatted down and placed the box down with the opening facing the ceiling and began putting everything back where it was before.

“Uhh… you need help with tha-” Hobie spoke awkwardly in attempt to break the loud silence. He put his hands up in surrender and backed up a bit when he saw you side eye him with a displeased expression.

(I had to use the picture this was the PERFECT opportunity to do so 😭)

You continued to pick up your toys, still without uttering a word or even looking at him. From your peripheral vision you saw his feet step away from his position next to you and heard his footsteps stop where your bed was located. You assumed he sat and your bed again, maybe to give you some space. You picked up the cardboard top and slammed it onto the box when you were done picking everything up, instantly getting up and putting it back on the top shelf in your closet.

You kept your head down as you closed the closet and walked to your previous spot before all of this: your desk chair. Still not being able to look at the company on your bed, your hand reached for your closed laptop until…

“Don’t even think about it, bruv.” Hobie stopped you with a playful scowl in his tone crossing his arms. All you could do is let out a dramatic sigh, cross your arms on the desk and place your head on them, hiding your face once again.

Hobie eyed your movements the entire time. He understood why you were embarrassed, wanting to curl yourself into ball and just hide. But he didn’t understand why you were acting this way towards him. Of course he was shocked that you out of all people had all of this… material. You’re the introverted, shy, kind of nerdy and laid back friend. Always at home with your head stuffed into a comic or manga, loved sleep more than anything, would rather write than talk. Just the opposite of him and he didn’t mind that.

But he didn’t understand why you thought he cared about your secret box so much. This wasn’t gonna make him think about you any different. If anything, he was more curious and a bit turned on after finding out such covert information.

He decided to try and break the silence again. “This isn’t as bad as you’re makin’ it seem, love.” You can hear the sincerity in his tone, his sultry voice and the pet name he used still had your sensitive bud aching for attention.

He couldn’t see it, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his statement. “What do you mean?” You questioned without lifting your head.

“It was a little unexpected, but it’s not botherin’ me in any way. Your personality isn’t in that box.” His honesty never faltered as he let out a light chuckle, gesturing his hand in the direction of your closet.

You scoffed at his statement in disbelief, finally sitting up and crossing your arms as you gazed at the wall in front of you. He was starting to get annoyed at the lack of eye contact and he sucked his teeth, glaring at the side of your face. “Look at me, mate.”

You heard the seriousness in his voice, and you closed your eyes taking a a deep breath before opening them and turning your head in his direction. Finally locking your eyes with his, you searched for any vacillation that could be hidden. But there was only sincerity. He meant every word he said.

“I’m sorry, Hobie. It’s just…” You trailed off looking to the side for a moment before looking back him. “You saw everything in that box. My childhood best friend doesn’t even know what’s in there. How am I supposed to believe that you don’t care about what you just saw?”

“Because I don’t.” He shrugged with a sarcastic laugh. “If I’m bein’ completely honest, the only thing I’m wonderin’ is how and why you have so many. I’ve never met someone with a box full of sex toys. Shit, I don’t even have that many.”

Your face fell into a curious expression as you listened to his words. “You have sex toys-”

“It’s not about me right now.” He spoke quickly shaking his head.

You chuckled at his quickness to dismiss your question. “Well, to stop your wondering…” You trailed off again with a sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously.

Am I really gonna tell him this?

You saw his eyebrows raise, eager to hear what you had to say.

Might as well just tell him. It doesn’t make sense to hide this now.

You blew a raspberry, preparing yourself to inform your friend of your biggest secret. “Long story short… I’m a sex worker. About a year and some change now. The financial aid package I receive from my college falls short on covering the cost of the tuition and other expenses. I don’t wanna put myself through five hours of class and then seven to eight hours of labor to make ends meet. So, I started looking into sex work. Seeing how much I could possibly make, the different types of content that people would pay for, the fact that I’d be working any time and anywhere I wanted was a plus as well. Now, here I am: I make about eight hundred dollars weekly, two to three thousand monthly. It’s enough to make sure I can pay for college and still do what I want.”

When you finished your confession, Hobie was left speechless with a slack jaw. He blinked a couple times to try and process the information he was given. His friend who couldn’t even socialize for more than two hours… Is a cam girl?

…Why is this kind of hot?

He picked up his jaw and cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts out of his head with a deep sigh. His behavior made all of the negative feelings you had before resurface. You looked down at the floor with shame as you shook your head.

“I knew I should’ve just kept my mouth shut-”

“No, no, no, no, no!” He quickly stopped you from finishing your sentence waving his hands. “I meant everythin’ I said before. None of this is gonna change my perspective of you. It’s just…”

He trailed off, the naughty thoughts he had slowly clouded his mind again. He felt his blood slowly rush to the head of his member thinking about the fact that he was sitting on the bed that you made some of your content on. You could’ve made yourself cum on the sheets you currently have on your mattress today, and thought of him sitting in the spot where you probably left a big, creamy mess was driving him mad.

“Hobie?” You spoke with a bit of worry as you noticed him zone out. You watched as he swallowed thickly and blinked twice, the leg that hung off your bed beginning to sway from side to side. You bit your lip to hide the smile that was threatening to paint your face at the scene.

Ahh, I see what’s up.

He felt his length throb softly, the feeling made him groan but he attempted to hide it with a deep, throaty chuckle. The sound not only made your entrance clench with need, but it gave you a bit of confidence to say your next words.

“Do you wanna see how I make my content?” The slight seduction in your voice caught him off guard, his head shot up to look at you with a shocked expression. You could see the desire in his eyes start to expand at your question.

“Wai- what?” He stammered breathlessly. He didn’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but he didn’t mind as it made it him throb again, his manhood slowly becoming erect.

“I know you heard me, Hobie.” You answered teasingly with a voluptuous grin and. “It’s a simple yes or no question.”

There goes that silence again. Sexual tension building as you eyed each other down. Once you both saw that y’all were on the same page, you smiled at each other with a knowing glint in your eyes. Y’all began to stand and walk towards each other with only one thought in mind:

“Finally.”

You were now laying on your bed with your torso completely exposed, showing off the nipple piercings that Hobie didn’t know you had. He swore it was as if he was finding treasure with every second he spent with you. Your legs were spread wide open to expose the red lace thong you’ve been sporting, revealing a small wet stain that your aching core left on it.

Hobie sat in your desk chair that he moved to the front of your bed, his torso also completely on display. The sight of his lanky yet toned and muscular physique only made you wetter. His boxer briefs were still attached to his lower half, his erection very prominent and aching to see what was next. Your tripod stood next him with your phone placed on it horizontally as it recorded.

“I’m so wet for you already. Dripping through my thong for you.” You spoke seductively, moving your body closer to the tripod and gorgeous man in front of you. Even though you looked into camera the whole time, he knew every word was meant for him.

“I only get this wet for you, baby. I’ve been waiting so fucking long to show you how I make myself cum when I think about you.” As if read each other’s minds, both of you placed a hand on your chest and slowly dragged it down to your most sensitive parts. Your hand slid inside your thong as his began to gently palm his shaft over his boxers, biting his lip to hold the groan that was ready to escape his throat.

The hand you slipped into your underwear made it’s way to your throbbing clit, your natural juices already coated all over your flower. You slowly and gently began to rub your sensitive button in circles, a low moan escaping your lips at the smooth feeling. The sound of your arousal squelching echoed off the walls in your room, drawing a low grunt from the half naked man at the foot of your bed as he continued to palm himself.

“I’ll show you how pretty she is, only if I get to see how hard the sound of my needy pussy made you first. Can you do that for me?” You continued to play with yourself, applying the tiniest amount of pressure. He immediately lifted his hips and slid his boxers off of his hips with ease.

His length was finally revealed to you, springing out effortlessly with him sighing blissfully at the feeling. Watching it slap his stomach gently, the tip going past his belly button, had you moaning at the sight. Your leaking entrance clenched with need as you thought of his member thrusting into you slow and hard, the prominent veins rubbing against your smooth, wet walls deliciously.

“Mmmm~ that dick is so pretty.” You admitted as you lifted your hips to remove your thong. You slid it off your legs and threw it in a random direction away from you. Your other set of lips spread slowly as you opened your legs again, showcasing your beautiful sensitive flower glistening with your wetness. “It’s so hard for me already, babe. I know you wish you stretching this tight, wet, warm pussy with every inch.” Your hand reached for your slit, spreading your labia to display your opening.

It was already starting to become too much for Hobie. The way you uttered such naughty words with ease, how you played with your beautiful pussy so delicately, the way you looked into the camera with such lust and longing desire. He bit his lip at the alluring sight before him, eyes rolling back as they closed for a moment when his shaft throb for attention.

You moved your hand so that you were touching your delicate bud again, letting out a pornographic moan as you started to rub it in circles again. “I wanna watch you make yourself feel good too, baby. Spit on your hand, get that aching cock nice and wet for me, and stroke it nice and slow. I don’t want you getting close too fast, okay?”

He instantly did what your smooth, gentle voice commanded him to do. The sensation of his moisturized hand slowly sliding down to the base of his length made a deep groan fall from his lips. He slid his hand up to his tip with the same pace, hissing at the feeling of himself softly pulsate in his grip. He found a rhythm rather quickly, a rhythm that already had his head lulling back in bliss as he imagined it was your pretty, dripping hole gripping him gently as you rode his erect member.

“Mmn~ fuck.” You whimpered as you felt your opening leak more of your sweet extract at the lustful view of his now glistening girth pulsate in his slender hands. The friction of his hand spreading his spit around him could be heard as he watched you play with yourself. “You’re throbbing so hard for me already. You like watching me play with my needy pussy for you, baby?” Your hand moved downward to tease your leaking hole, and you let out a short, low purr followed by a sharp gasp when you felt the tip of your middle finger almost enter.

The pretty boy in front of you analyzed your face and body with hooded eyes clouded with hunger and eagerness to cum with you, wishing it was the tip of his dick teasing your entrance. A deep, animalistic growl escaped his throat as he began to thrust his hips into hand at a steady pace. “Shit.” He moaned when he started to flick his wrist as he continued to caress his length, stroking at faster pace.

“Ooh~ my finger slides in so easily.” You moaned breathlessly when you felt your smooth, greedy walls suck your digit into yourself. You slowly thrusted your coated finger in and out twice before pulling it out, watching a string of your arousal stretch from your core attached to your digit. The strand of your extract broke when brought your hand to your face, sucking the juices off but making sure your finger was still moist enough so you can slip it into your hungry opening again.

Hobie grunted eagerly as he watched you. His release was building up slowly, but he held it in. “So fucking good.” He groaned lowly feeling his pleasure intensify, the pace he stroked his girth never faltering.

You eased your index finger in after penetrating yourself with your middle for a while, your mouth falling agape at the delightful feeling of being stretched out slightly. Curving your slick digits upwards, another sharp gasp escaped your mouth as you felt the tip of them gently press again a spongy spot inside your dripping core. “Oh, yes, right fucking there.” You whined desperately at the new feeling, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you continued motioning your fingers upward.

At this point you and Hobie forgot about the phone that was recording your sinful actions and naughty sounds. You were both in a state of euphoria— the sensual noises coming from guy’s mouth, your arousal squelching and leaking nonstop with every thrust of your fingers, the sight you both had as you watched each other masturbate intensely with the same amount of eagerness. It was enough to bring you both closer to that release y’all were so desperate to receive.

Your hips bucked into your hand as the pace you thrusted your dripping fingers became faster and sloppier, your free hand gripping the covers on your bed tightly as you felt the small pressure in your stomach start to expand. “Fuck, Hobie, I’m gonna cum so hard for you. I’m so close, baby~, i’m so close.” You babbled mindlessly as you brought the hand that was gripping your sheets to you aching clit, rubbing it in steady circles to quicken the arrival of your powerful orgasm.

“M’ right behind you, love. Get that nut, baby. Fuck… I’m right there with you.” He encouraged you with a growl. The pet names, his seductive voice, and seeing the pace of his thrusting hips increase as he watched you bring yourself to the most mind shattering orgasm was all you needed to make the pressure in stomach pop as you made a delicious mess on the bed and floor below you.

Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head and jaw fell open as you came with a long, loud, moan. Your juices flew out of your pulsating entrance when you quickly removed your fingers from inside of you, rubbing your clit in circles rapidly making your squirting essence fly in any and every direction.

Hobie watched the voluptuous scene in front of him with a slightly gaped mouth, breathing heavily and rapidly as it brought him to his climax. His eyebrows furrowed in bliss, his stomach and testicles tightening as he milked himself with his hand. A loud groan exited his throat as he angled his girth towards his stomach and released, ropes of his seed painting his beautiful melanated torso. The hand he used to jerk himself off reduced its speed as he slowly came down from his high.

You both sat in your current positions regulating your breathing after the intense mutual masturbation session. When your breathing began to balance out, you heard a quiet whimper come from the attractive man in front of you. Your eyes made their way to him, seeing him slowly stroke his still erect girth with his head thrown back.

You threw your legs off your bed and got off of it, walking towards the tripod and stopping the recording. You sent the video to Hobie before making your way in front him, kneeling down and gently placing your hand on his thighs as you looked up at his pretty fucked out face. He felt your hands run up his thighs and to his hand to remove it from his length.

He looked down at the beautiful woman in front of him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she planned on doing. All of his wonder went out the window when he watched her bring one of her hands to his thick, long member jerking him up and down once just to feel him throb. She then brought her head down a bit, slowly licking a wet line from his balls to the sensitive spot below his tip as she looked him in his eyes with hers feigning innocence.

“Fuck. Baby, don’t tease me like that.” He he groaned breathlessly at the sensation. She chuckled seductively at his words, kissing the head of his dick before spitting on it. She brought her hand back to his length to spread the moisture around him, feeling her lower region begin to ache for attention again when she heard him whine at the feeling of her warm fist starting to jerk him off at an agonizingly slow pace.

Hobie’s eyebrows creased in confusion when he felt her stop her movements, but his confused expression was immediately replaced with a slack jaw and his eyes rolling back when he felt her lips wrap around him gently. “Mmm~ so soft.” He moaned as she pushed her head lower onto him with her humming at the taste of him taking over her tastebuds.

“Oh- ooh, shit. What the fuck?” He moaned blissfully in bewilderment as she immediately slid his girth down her throat. She contracted the walls of her throat around his manhood as she started moving her head up and down.

The feeling of her warm lips and wet, tight throat wrapped around him has his eyes behind his head for the thousandth time tonight. One of his slender hands made their way to her soft, messy hair, gripping it gently as he held her head down and began to thrust his hips into her face. “Your throat feels so good, doll. Oh, my…” He trailed off with a needy whine.

He thrusted his hips faster, her eyes beginning to water as he slid further and further down her esophagus. She felt him gently throb in her mouth as she mentally thanked the man above for not having a gag reflex. She hummed around him once more to bring him closer to his second release.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, f-fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m-” His babbling stopped abruptly due to his climax crashing down on him. He groaned breathlessly as he throbbed repeatedly and came down her throat, still holding her head down and keeping his hips still.

Once she felt his member slowly start to become flaccid, she pulled her head up and removed her lips from him with a pop. She looked up at him with innocent eyes as she swallowed every drop of cum he fed her, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out to show him afterwards.

He smiled proudly at the sight, watching her come up from her position on the floor and straddle his laptop. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hers made their way around his neck and rested on the back of her chair. “I didn’t think you had that in you, love.” He spoke teasingly as he looked up at her with his bright, gorgeous smile.

She chuckled at his comments before responding. “You didn’t think I had a lot of things inside me. Now look at where we are.” You both laughed lightly at your statement, Hobie pushing you down towards him by your back and gently pressing his lips onto yours.

You instantly melted into the kiss as he gripped your thighs and stood up with your legs wrapped around his hips. He walked towards your bed and laid you down on it, him laying next to you as you guy’s lips separated. You faced each other, one of your hands making their way to the back his neck as you started to playing in his hair.

“So, about those sex toys you mentioned earlier…” You spoke with a playful grin.

“Oh, my days- no. Good night.” He responded with playful frustration, Shuffling his body closer to yours and stuffing his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You laughed at his tone and words, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back gently.

Both of you enjoyed the fact that after engaging in such sinful activities, you can still joke around like nothing happened. You also really appreciated how he didn’t judge you and made sure that you knew his intentions and perspective of you were still pure… kind of. He really enjoyed what went down tonight, and he hoped that you guys could do it again sometime.

And you felt the same exact way.

I know the ending seems rushed I apologize guys 😭 I said this was gonna be posted Thursday night and I MEANT IT okay. But I hope you guys enjoyed!! My first smut on tumblr and more to come 💕

#mdni #hobie my beloved #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv #spider punk #spider punk smut #hobie brown x black!reader #hobart brown #hobart brown x reader #hobart brown x black!reader #hobart brown smut #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x black!reader #atsv x reader #atsv smut #marvel

613 notes · View notes