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freedomfireflies · 1 month

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Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it.

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine.

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door.

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions.

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence.

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say.

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?”

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over.

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out.

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment.

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh.

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit.

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one.

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy.

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle.

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment.

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon.

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up.

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow.

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.”

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat.

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further.

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop.

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent.

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot.

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave.

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open.

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

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cordeliawhohung · 1 month

Text

here's that one ghoap x reader one shot i had posted the idea for a bit ago

johnny has an easy smile and an aura that tells you he wants something significantly more than just his pleasure alone. it isn't until he's got you face first in the mattress that you realize you've bitten off more than you can chew.

cw: alcohol, smut (oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v) consensual to dub-con, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight dumbification of johnny

2.4k

Usually, you never gave your name out so easily to any man who sauntered up to you at the bar, but something was different about this one. Maybe it was because of that odd glint in his eyes; a deep rooted lust poorly obscured by a pretty blue tint. Maybe it was because he looked terribly lost in a very cute way, like a puppy trying to find its owner. Whatever it was, it had your name rolling off your tongue faster than you could stop it, and it made the vodka in your drink taste as sweet as syrup.

His name was Johnny, and he had an easy smile that was too contagious for you to even attempt to keep up your stone cold expression. He nursed a simple pint, but didn’t seem nearly as interested in it as he was you. For all his smooth words and sharp wit, he didn’t seem to concern himself at all with attempting to hide the fact he had been undressing you with his eyes for the last half hour. The only reason you even allowed him to do so was because how warm it made you feel, rather than disgusting and violated. It was almost like a promise he was looking for something far greater than his own pleasure that night.

Eventually your drink went down as easy as water and everything else began to melt away. The dim glow of the ambient lighting made Johnny appear even more alluring as he entertained you with some outlandish story that you were certain was mostly made up, but you didn’t care. He was nice to look at, and as you smiled and nodded along with his words you couldn’t help but wonder if his hair was as soft as it looked.

“Wanna get out of here?” he suddenly suggested after you both were several drinks in.

His proposition nearly had you laughing, and had it been any other man on any other night you certainly would have. As cute as Johnny was, it was impossible to deny the sweet puppy charm he had about him, and you didn’t know why it lured you in as well as it did. Visions of what could possibly wait for you that night began to unfold in your mind, and you found your hips shifting on the stiff barstool as your eyes flickered to the stubble on his jaw. You wondered how that stubble would feel on the insides of your thighs.

“I don’t know…” you pondered, but your tone was far from sure. If anything, it was tempting; as if you wanted him to try and push more.

“You sure?” he questioned with a raised brow.

Before your reply could leave your lips, Johnny stole your breath away with a single brush of his fingers against your thighs. It all seemed a little juvenile, being touched in a bar as if you were two horny teens who couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves. Still, you would be lying if you said you didn’t want him to push just a little further as his hands grabbed the meat of your inner thigh like he claimed a prize.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

What exactly transpired after he said that phrase that had your lips crashing against his was something you couldn’t quite recall, but you quickly realized you didn’t really care. The sour taste of beer was hot on your tongue as your thumb rubbed against the stubble on his jaw. He was the most intoxicating thing you had on your lips that night, and when his teeth nipped at you, you knew there was no way you could ever say no to his proposition.

As Johnny pulled out of that sloppy, drunken kiss, you didn’t take notice of the way his eyes flickered away from you. You didn’t realize how his attention landed on a large, looming figure that sat tucked away at one of the tables in the far side of the room. While the man’s face was shrouded with a silly skull mask, his gaze spoke volumes; it screamed something that Johnny had been craving that entire night.

Approval.

As it would turn out, there were plenty of things you didn’t notice that night. You didn’t notice the two pairs of boots by Johnny’s front door, or how their sizes were so different. You didn’t notice how his bedsheets had the faint aroma of cigarettes woven in the fabric despite the fact you had not tasted a hint of tobacco on his lips when you kissed him. Or maybe you did notice and you just didn’t care. It was difficult to care about anything with Johnny’s face buried in your cunt.

The sound of his moans rivaled that of your own, and it was downright obscene when accompanied by the wet smacking of his lips on your clit. He ate you out with a fervor you had never experienced with any other man, like he attempted to unravel you with his tongue alone. When your fingers weaved through the thick strands of his hair, that only seemed to prod him to do more. He sunk two thick fingers into your cunt and relished with a guttural groan at how your muscles squeezed at him.

With his fingers and tongue working in tandem, it didn’t take you long to come. That blistering heat tore through your body with vicious revenge. Johnny’s chuckle got lost in the heat of your skin as he eventually weaned himself off of your cunt and planted a trail of kisses up your body until he reached your lips once more. You could tell by the way his tongue slipped into your mouth that he was far from finished with you, and so when you felt his hands on your hips gently prompting you to turn over, you didn’t fight him on it.

Your hands and knees sunk into the mattress as you did your best to put on a show for Johnny. Back arched, ass up in the air, hips swaying side to side as if he needed any further enticing. His hands palmed and squeezed at your ass while he pressed himself against you. The fabric of his jeans felt odd and rough against your cunt — as Johnny was too impatient to taste you in order to take them off — yet you grinded back against him anyway.

“Gorgeous,” he cooed. Rustling clothes sounded behind you as Johnny worked off his shirt, followed by the metallic zipping of his pants. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, aye? Wanna see if she feels as good as she tastes.”

Your fingers curled into the bed sheets as Johnny’s cock sunk into you. The thick, wide stretch of him had your mind running blank. Even still, your mindless state had your body rocking back against him where you swallowed the rest of his length whole with a wanton whine. Johnny’s fingers dug into your hips at the stimulation, and you could feel the aching want exude from his body; as if he had to hold himself back lest he rip you to shreds like a badly behaved dog.

“Bleeding Christ,” he hissed, hips grinding against yours. “She feels so good, bonnie. So fuckin’ good.”

When Johnny’s hips pulled back just to slam against yours again, you knew you weren’t going to last long. With your nerves already frayed from your previous orgasm, this upcoming one wasn’t buried deep at all. It was right there, lingering just underneath your skin with its tendrils snaking up towards your mind, smothering any coherent thought you attempted to conjure. There was no need for rational thinking, anyway. Why would you need to question the heavy approaching footsteps or the dark rumbling chuckle behind you?

“Bein’ good, Johnny?”

The voice that spoke was unfamiliar, and it certainly didn’t belong to Johnny. The deep baritone of it caused your breath to hitch in your throat, yet it was impossible to hold back your moans as Johnny continued to fuck you like it was no big deal.

“Of course I am,” Johnny panted in response, “just listen to her.”

“Not good enough to wait for me,” the man countered.

“Couldn’t wait. Not when she was sittin’ so pretty f’me.”

No, something was wrong. Someone else was there with you, watching as Johnny fucked you into the mattress like an animal. As a wave of panic settled in your chest, you pushed against the bed as you attempted to look over your shoulder, yet it was of no use. Johnny’s relentless pace made it impossible to do anything but slip and slide forward until your face was nearly being smothered into the pillows.

“Johnny?” you asked, voice pitchy and raw.

“Right here, bonnie,” he replied as his hands snaked around your front to paw at your chest. “Fuck, you sound so pretty sayin’ my name like that. Not gonna last much longer if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Even if your brain was capable of coming up with a response to his mindless ramblings, your words surely would have gotten caught in your throat as Johnny’s hips suddenly faltered. His body moved away from yours with a slight jerk, as if someone had yanked on his head, but you could still feel his pathetic attempts to pump his cock into you as he whimpered.

“Nuh uh,” the new man — whatever his name was — chastised. “You don’t get to come until she does, yeah?”

Johnny’s forehead suddenly crashed against your back as his thrusts picked up pace once again. The hands that were pawing at your chest quickly wandered down to your clit, and your body nearly convulsed at the violent stimulation. You gasped as you tried to rip his hand off of you while the tingling sensation of your impending demise started to crack your body to pieces.

“Wait, Johnny please,” you babbled. You didn’t even know what you were trying to ask of him. To stop? To explain who that strange voice belonged to? How were you supposed to get those words out when he fucked you like a wild animal?

“I know, I know,” Johnny shushed. “I just need one more out of ya. One more then Simon will be satisfied. Please, just one more bonnie, s’all I want.”

A part of you wanted to hold back, to deny him that satisfaction, but it was impossible. He had already built you up so high that it was all too easy to kick out the support beams and watch you tumble. Johnny ripped your orgasm from your body with deft hands sending tremors throughout your body that forced your eyes to squeeze shut tight. It was searing — all consuming — like you were now bound to the man who fucked you and the stranger who egged him on.

Johnny’s cock slid out of you once your whining had calmed down, but it wasn’t long before his grunts picked up again. Without his hands to hold your hips in place, you crashed forward onto the mattress with a wince before slowly turning on your back in an attempt to face him.

The view that consumed your vision was enough to stun you into submission. Perspiration coated Johnny’s body with a glistening sheen, and he looked like a god as he sat in front of you on his knees. But he wasn’t alone. A large and brutish man stood at the end of the bed where he held Johnny against his chest by his hair. A black skull-patterned mask obscured his face, but you could make out the darkness of his eyes clear as day as he muttered into the man’s ear. You couldn’t hear what he said over the sound of Johnny’s whining, as the man had his arm snaked around to his front where he tugged at Johnny’s cock using your wetness as lube.

Before you had the chance to muster a single thought, Johnny came undone. His cum spilled out of him in heavy bursts, falling along your thighs and stomach as the man continued to work him through his end. Had you not been so confused and scared, you would have made a face at the odd, sticky feeling that tainted your skin. Instead, you laid there in silence as the man shoved his cum-coated fingers into Johnny’s mouth.

“Such a messy pup,” he hummed while Johnny licked his fingers clean.

When the man turned his attention to you, you wanted to just melt into the bed. To vanish into thin air. To be anywhere else that wasn’t under his gaze. His eyes swept over you in a quick assessment before he pushed Johnny’s head toward you with a simple shove.

“Clean her up,” he ordered.

And he did. Johnny’s feverish tongue lapped along your legs and torso, cleaning up the remnants of his cum on your body. But you didn’t feel clean. You felt dirty and confused; used even.

“Did I do good? I made you come twice, didn’t I? Please tell me I did good, bonnie,” Johnny begged.

With your body cleaned with his tongue, his nose nuzzled against the inside of your neck as he covered your body with his. As an instinct, your arms wrapped around him as if he was the only support you had. If you couldn’t hide away in the bed, then you’d certainly try to hide away under Johnny, as useless as it was. You made the mistake of making eye contact with that stranger, and his eyes looked like a warning. Like you shouldn’t dare to tell Johnny he was anything less than great.

“Y-You did good, Johnny,” you said, voice meek and trembling.

“Did ya hear that, Simon? She said I did good,” Johnny repeated, relishing in your approval. “Thank you, bonnie, thank you…”

The man — Simon? — walked around the edge of the bed to get closer to you and Johnny, and you found your grip on him tightening. That night had seemed like a good idea back at the bar when you were a few drinks in, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart felt like it tried to tear itself to shreds. Simon reached his hand for the back of Johnny’s head where he gave his hair a good ruffle, yet when he spoke he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

“Good pup.”

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader smut #cod smut #f!reader

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harufluff · 7 months

Text

asking them to marry you on over the phone (unironically)

warnings - cursing, but that should be it.

genre - crack, fluff, bf!enhypen x fem!reader, established relationship au

wc - 1.1k

inspired by ‘you’re here that’s the thing’ by beabadoobee

yang jungwon

was stunned

actually thought he was having a heart attack for a second

he was doing something as simple as eating his gummies when you suddenly blurted out

"oh god- marry me."

man nearly choked on his gummy

more under the cut :))

"EXCUSE ME??"

if you were joking that was a bad idea cause he is fully prepared to marry you right that second >:(

either way, he's flattered

he thinks its honoring that you feel comfortable enough to say that

eventually you convince him to stop freaking out (it took way too long)

but even then, it still makes the heat rush to his face

thankfully it was just on facetime, so you couldn't see the red at the tips of his ears too much

he knows he's down bad fr 😋😋

lee heeseung

on the other hand mr i'm so confident on stage was like a little puddle

genuinely thought he heard you wrong at first

he was just sitting there zoning out for like two minutes and finally snapped out of it when he heard you say

"just marry me, you dork."

you thought it was funny lol 😎😎

probably should have thought that through cause you just messed up his heart with two words

"w-wait did you just- what did you say?!"

poor hee was so confused

"idk what did i say..."

"YOU SAID MARRY ME IDIOT"

"oh yea lol"

"FUCK YOU YOU CANT JUST SAY THAT"

he was a tad bit mad

just a little

literally walked over to your place so he could give you hugs and kisses 😤

park jay

he's been ready for this moment his entire life

literally got mad cause he wanted to say it

it ended with you having to beg him to stop talking

jay was cooking for the boys with you on facetime cause he was bored and everyone else would get in his way

so he gave you a call and you ended up staying on a call with him for over two hours

but the second he started tasting his food like the gourmet chef he is👌👌

suddenly he heard some of the best words he'll ever hear in his life

"ughhh- when we get married will you cook for me?"

poor baby whipped his head around so fast he almost broke it

"WHAT?? NOW?? BUT WERE ON THE PHONE AND- HEY YOU TOOK MY JOB I WAS SUPPOSED TO ASK YOU!!"

at this point you were staring at your phone with a blank stare

"what."

"you said marriage. you're stuck with me you can't leave me haha sucks for you."

"its ok i didnt want to anyway." 😊

whoops you just killed him with a smushy heart

sim jaehyun

he screamed

long story short, he almost fainted and quite literally did that "mrs rabbit has fainted" thing

the two of you were folding your own laundry together on facetime because, well, he gets lonely

obviously you said yes, because why wouldn't you??

"you look so cute and domestic, i love it. i could marry you this second if i could."

took him a couple of seconds

but eventually your words processed through his head and he SCREAMED

"THIS SECOND??"

"mhm!! you look cute." 😚

another puddle guess what you're the mop. come wipe up your jake puddle babe

he laid on the floor for a solid five minutes just processing.

anyway now hes at your house still a little jake puddle and he's making you watch movies with him on the couch.

park sunghoon

he was ready 🫡🫡

hoon got the phone and everything. he was ready to make the call to all the family

but obviously before that he took it a TINI TINY bit seriously

a tini tiny bit

basically it was morning and he was on tour so he was sad and alone (besides sunoo who was just offended that he even said that)

babe started drinking water until he heard

"i miss you a lot. when we get married, you're not aloud to do this to me."

spit water out of his mouth

it was kinda gross but did he care? no.

"MARRIED?? WHO SAID I WAS GETTING MARRIED TO YOU??"

he's a little mean when he's flustered ok?

"PARK SUNGHOON I'LL-"

"wait, you wanna get married to me? really??"

if you could slap him in the face you would, but truth is he was flattered.

he would marry you any day 💘💘

kim sunoo

also went along with it

you were going through all the snacks you found at the market with sunoo over facetime

to say the least he was just excited you were excited

"i got this thingy, and im not really sure what it is but it looks good."

the call went on with you eating the snacks and reviewing

"WAIT THIS IS SO GOOD SUN YOU HAVE TO TRY THIS SOMETIME."

"ill try it sometime then."

"we have to get it together and maybeeee you can buy it??"

"ill buy you any snacks you want, my love." 😋

"ugh marry me already."

SELF DESTRUCTION

"ANYTIME"

next time you go over to his place he had a little toilet paper boquet for you 😊😊

STOP I LOVE HIM

nishimura riki

my babe fr

another one who was a little too confident

you were on a ft with him late at night just for funsies

honestly the two of you were just messing around while eating snacks and making little crafts

anyway he was like quite literally about to fall asleep and he looked SO DAMN CUTE

like his eyes about to close and his lip is getting all pouty and UGH-

"night, ki"

"nooo i'm not asleep don't leave meeeee"

"lol you're so cute just marry me"

EYES ARE SHOT WIDE OPEN MAN HAS NEVER BEEN MORE AWAKE IN HIS LIFE

"married huh?? you're really that obsessed with me"

huh- OH WAIT THAT WAS A JOKE THO"

"NOT ANYMORE BABE IT'S REAL NOW"

aaaaaaand again you're stuck 😋😊

i literally love him sm

©harufluff 2023

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st4rfckerz · 2 months

Text

Farmboy | Farmhand!Anakin Skywalker x Farmers!daughter

word count: 4.1k

warnings: MDNI 18+, oral (male receiving), face fucking (if you squint), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, slow(ish) buildup, not proofread

summary: Anakin is your family's farmhand and after inviting him to dinner, you can't keep your hands to yourself

Your family owned a farm out West, not far from the outskirts of town. It was quiet, as farms often are. The land was hilly, rolling out as far as you could see. The sun was shining, and the blue sky was bright with few clouds in it. The sound of horses and the wind rustling through the trees was all you heard. The air was crisp, and there was a slight tang of wildflowers.

Anakin was one of the farmhands that your family had hired a few months ago, a man who was quiet but skilled. As one of their hired hands, he was responsible for helping with the maintenance of the farm's livestock and machinery. His primary role was to ensure everything ran smoothly, which meant keeping the animals fed and watered while fixing broken machinery when needed.

It was midday when you approached him in the garden shed with a worried expression on your face. "Ani, I need your help. The sheep pen collapsed, and I can't find any tools nearby." Panic was evident in your voice, hinting at the potential consequences of leaving the sheep unattended for too long. Anakin followed you back to the dimly lit barn and you found the sheep wandering around their stalls, bleeting softly.

"I see," he muttered looking at the pen, he glanced over where the sheep were grazing. "I hope nothing else broke." he says under his breath, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of damage. He walked forward, whistling for the sheep that were scattered, and they came to him. He began leading them towards their pen, some were very fussy about it and didn’t want to go, yet he remained calm and gentle.

"Don't worry, I'll fix it," Anakin assured you, stepping over the fence and rummaging through the debris left by the fallen wood.

"You need me to help with anything?" you stand near him awkwardly, not sure what to do.

“Nope. I got it under control,” He said calmly, continuing to lead the sheep. You admired his patience and his ability to stay so level headed. "You can just sit there and look pretty while I get this done." Anakin shoots you a slick smile that makes your insides turn a little.

"I won't be bothering you?" you ask as you sit down on a bale of hay.

"You won't be bothering me at all sweetheart," He says, his eyes traveled over your body and he smirked at you. "You can be my moral support." He leans against the aged wall of the barn. His stance was relaxed, very casual as he was being nonchalant, but with you he was a little different. Something about you made him like this.

Anakin couldn't help but notice how good you looked in their simple dress, its hemline brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough skin to drive him wild. The sunset cast a warm, golden light over your body, creating a delicate glowy outline around your figure. It was almost like the sun was wrapping itself around you.

"You know you could stay for supper if you'd like," you suggest, breaking the silence of the barn. "I'm sure my folks won't mind." He watched as you leaned back on the bale of hay, and he couldn't help but notice your dress riding up a little. It was a small thing to notice, but he saw it.

Your dress wasn't that short, by any means, but the way it rode up on your legs was enough to make Anakin notice you. His gaze drifted down to your legs, and back up to your face.

"Oh I don't know, I don't wanna intrude or anything-" You smiled and cut him off, stopping him in his tracks.

"Please Ani? Just this once?" You walked over to him, and with that sweet tone in your voice, you were playing him like a fiddle. It was clear that your invitation was genuine, you wanted him to stay so you could keep his company. He smiled at you and looked away from your eyes for a moment. When he looked back at you, he was slightly speechless. The words were caught in his throat, and he couldn't speak, he wasn't used to someone that could make him flustered.

"Well, alright I s'pose I could join you." Anakin smiles. "What's mama bear fixin' up tonight?"

he smirked at you, his expression was playful, but you could tell he was serious. You laughed lightly at the silly nickname he often uses for you mother.

“She’s making beef stew, with biscuits. All from scratch, too.” you explain. "And there's fresh apple pie for dessert." His smile showed he was interested, and he couldn't help but admire your beauty. You looked like a little doll, with sweet doe eyes that could disarm any man.

"Then I'll be there." His voice had a masculine yet flirty quality to it, and it sent shivers down your spine. It was like music to your ears.

"Good, I'll see you later farmboy." You tease, knocking his hip with your own as you walked past him. You felt his eyes devouring you whole, looking at your sweet face and the sway of your hips.

As he continues to fix the pen, he can't help but think about the upcoming dinner. He's never had dinner with you and your family before, so he wondered how it would go. He didn't know if he'd be welcome, but you said they wouldn't mind, and you're pretty much like a little princess in their eyes so it shouldn't go wrong at all.

The evening rolled around, you were sitting at the table waiting for him, ready for the dinner to begin. Your family was already seated around the table, discussing various things. They all seemed pretty jovial, and you could hear the occasional laughter, as well as bits of conversation.

You looked around and expected to see Anakin walking through the door at any second, yet he was a bit late which was out of character for him.

Just as you thought he might've bailed last minute, Anakin's voice draws your attention towards the door, where he was finally walking in. His expression had a hint of embarrassment, since he was later than he thought he'd be. He had a shy yet sheepish look on his face, as if he expected you or your family to reprimand him.

"Sorry," he said quietly, looking at you, "I'm a bit late."

"Ani! I was afraid you flaked out on us." you joke as you abruptly got up from your seat to greet him. When Anakin saw you get up and come closer to him, he was initially confused as to why. But then you envelope him in a tight hug, catching him completely off guard. He didn't know how to respond, as he was taken aback by your show of affection.

"No, I'd never do a thing like that." he responds.

He hugged you back, his hands squeezing you tightly as you felt his body pressing against yours. He was caught by surprise, and he didn't expect you to show any affection. His body stiffened up as you hugged him, as he remained still.

However, he felt a wave of warmth rush through him and it caused him to relax into the hug. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling a new feeling of closeness between you both.

"Come eat, there's plenty of food." You let go of the embrace, but you still keep your hands on him, dragging him to the seat right next to you. He didn't hesitate to follow you, nor did he show any opposition. You both sit down, with you being right next to Anakin. You pull yourself slightly close to him, close enough that he could feel it.

Anakin's eyes look up at your father, his expression showing a bit of anxiety. Your father smiles warmly at him, and welcomes him to the table. Anakin smiles back in response, looking down at the table a bit. Your father proceeds to sit down, as does the rest of your family. The dinner proceeds like normal, everyone engaging in conversation with one another.

"So Anakin, how's everything been?" your father asks, his aged, gravelly voice booming throughout the room.

"I've been quite fine sir, same old news." Anakin says, smiling a bit as he takes a bite from his biscuit.

"Anakin fixed the sheep pen today." The conversation shifts as you interject, causing Anakin's attention to look up. Your words get everyone's attention, as they all look at Anakin, who is sitting to the side.

"Oh, did he?" your father says, looking at him. Anakin's ears pick up, and he looks over towards you. Your father continues, "I'm sure the sheep are happy." He blushes slightly, nodding his head humbly as he looks at your dad.

Your mother pipes up with her own question, pointing the discussion in another direction.

"So Anakin, what do you do in your free time?"

Anakin answers, keeping his tone relaxed and level.

"Nothin' too special really," he says, taking a few moments to respond, "Just hang around, or fix things. Y'know how it is." He's cordial, polite, and has a soft attitude.

He treats you with respect, yet his attention keeps flicking back towards you again and again, as if he was drawn to your charms. You felt as if you were a magnet to him, as he always looked over at you after he said anything.

As you lean forward to grab the salt, your fingers brush against Anakin's thigh under the table, a subtle gesture that sends a thrill through both of you. He raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He knows exactly what you're doing. You quickly return to your seat, trying to hide your flushed cheeks under the low light.

"The food is really good mom." you smile sweetly at her. While you speak, your fingers graze along Anakin's growing bulge under the table, a subtle hint of your growing attraction.

Anakin's eyes meet yours for a brief moment, he swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure as he continues the conversation. The tension between you two is palpable, yet unnoticed by the rest of the family.

Dinner comes to an end, and your mother presents a homemade apple pie for dessert. The family cheers in appreciation, and you can't help but smile at the delicious aroma wafting through the room. The scent of apple pie creates a cozy atmosphere that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Anakin compliments your mother on the meal, his eyes never straying far from yours.

As everyone digs into the apple pie, you feel Anakin's hand gently slide in between your thighs under the table. You try your hardest to suppress the smile creeping onto your face, the connection between you two growing stronger with each passing moment. The dessert is sweet, but it's nothing compared to the warmth you feel inside.

When you finish eating your piece of pie, you stand up and gather your plate and utensils, turning to head towards the kitchen sink. Anakin follows closely behind. You work side by side, the clinking of dishes echoing through the kitchen.

Anakin's hands are large and rough from farm work, but they move gracefully as he washes the dishes. He looks at you, his expression calm but also full of appreciation.

"It was nice having dinner with your family." he tells you, "thanks for inviting me over."

You give him a smile and use a nearby towel to wipe your hands. "It was no problem, they enjoyed your company." He smiles back, his jaw firm but his eyes showing that he was genuinely pleased.

Just as your family enters the kitchen with their now empty plates, you lean in close to Anakin, your voice barely above a whisper. "Meet me in the barn in five minutes." you say, your eyes filled with anticipation. Anakin's gaze locks onto yours for a moment before he nods, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your father approaches, engaging Anakin in conversation about the farm and the upcoming town festival. You turn to your mother, your cheeks flushed but your voice steady. "I'll be right back, I just need to check on the chicken coop."

Your mother doesn't seem to suspect anything unusual since this was usually the time you'd check on the chickens anyway. "Take your time, dear. We'll be in here for a bit longer." She waves you off, her smile warm and understanding.

You wait for everyone to settle down before slipping out of the house, making sure to lock the door behind you. The moonlit night casts a pearlescent glow over the yard, illuminating the path leading to the barn. You hurry inside, your heart racing with exhilaration.

Anakin watches you leave, his eyes never leaving yours as you exit the house. He knows what's coming next, and he can't help but feel a whirlwind of trepidation. The anticipation killing him, but he forces himself to continue the conversation with your father, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

Finally, your father finishes his glass of sweet tea and stands up, nodding goodbye to Anakin after he explains that he should be heading home.

The sound of crickets and distant frogs filled the air as Anakin walks towards the barn, his boots rustling against the grass beneath him. He approaches the old barn slowly, his heart racing faster than a stallion at the starting gate. He takes a deep breath before opening the door, the creak of the hinges echoing through the night. He called out your name softly, his voice tinged with anticipation. The barn is dimly lit, with the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the wooden walls.

As he stepped inside, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. You were there, your eyes locked onto his.

"Hi." you say softly, your voice tinged with a hint of mischief. The barn feels smaller now, the air thick with tension. Your eyes lock onto each other, and the crickets chirping outside seem to grow louder. Anakin takes a step towards you, his confidence wavering only slightly.

"Hey," his tone is softer than normally, you could tell just from his voice he was nervous. His eyes are locked on you, scanning every inch of your body. "Your folks know you're in here?" he asks.

You shake your head, biting your lip to suppress your smile. "I told them I'm checking on the chickens." His eyebrow raises, a hint of amusement playing on his face.

Anakin clicks his tongue while shaking his head teasingly. "You shouldn't be lyin' to your parents sweetheart." He looks at you with a certain sparkle in his eyes, as if you made him feel special with a simple remark.

"Technically, I glanced over there when i was walking over here." you state matter-of-factly. Anakin steps closer to you, his fingers brushing the little strands of hair out of your face. His eyes never leaving yours. His touch is gentle, yet electric, making your heart race even faster. You step closer to him and you can't help but feel the pull between you two. The barn feels comforting and inviting, a secret haven away from the world.

"You look real pretty tonight." Anakin compliments sincerely, his hand still resting on your cheek. His thumb brushes against your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. You nuzzle your cheek against Anakin's big palm. "Thanks," you whisper, your voice barely audible in the silence of the barn.

Anakin's thumb traces a line along your lower lip, teasingly brushing against the corner of your mouth. His hand moves to your waist, his fingertips grazing the hem of your dress, sending electric currents through your body. Anakin leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle peck. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching for your reaction. Seeing your approval, he leans in again, this time with more intensity. His kiss is soft yet passionate, filled with a sense of longing.

The kiss intensifies, your lips pressing harder against each other, tongues dancing in a rhythm only you two understand. Anakin's hands slide into your hair, pulling you closer, his breath hitching in your mouth. You break the kiss, trailing your lips against the rough stubble along his jaw. He groans softly, his hand tightening on your hair.

"Been thinkin' about you all day," Anakin panted between breaths. He grips your waist to pull you impossibly closer as you continue to explore his neck with your lips. "You and that damn dress." His hands moved up to cup your breasts, massaging them roughly through the thin fabric of your dress.

You giggle softly, your teeth grazing lightly against his neck. "You're that worked up over a dress, Ani?" Anakin whines quietly in response, his hips desperately bucking in your direction. You pull back slightly, your eyes locked on Anakin's. His eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly dropped to your knees, your hands reaching for his belt buckle. He groaned, his hips rocking forward, his cock straining against his pants.

Your hands reach for the hem of his pants, slowly pulling them down, revealing his muscular thighs. You reach down further, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his underwear. With a quick tug, they fall to the ground revealing his thick cock, hard and ready just for you.

"You're killing me kid." He managed to croak out as you slowly wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it gently. You lean forward and kiss his angry red tip. It twitches in anticipation, leaking a small amount of precum onto your lip. Your tongue darts out, tentatively exploring the head of his cock, savoring the salty taste. You moan softly, your hands reaching down to cup his balls, massaging them gently.

Anakin's hands grip your hair tightly, his moans turning into groans of pleasure as you continue to tease him. "F-fuckin' hell," he growls, his hips rocking back and forth, pushing his cock further into your mouth. You stroke the part of him that doesn't fit into your mouth, your fingers gliding up and down his length. You can feel him twitching, his body trembling under your touch.

His cock pulses in your hand and his breaths come in ragged gasps. You gag slightly, your eyes watering, but you don't pull away. Instead, you take as much of him as you possibly can.

" 'M close- hold on, I'm- ah!" His cock twitches violently in your mouth, shooting a hot stream of cum down your throat. You swallow it unhesitatingly, eager to please him. Gazing up at Anakin, your eyes is fixed on his. He's panting heavily, his hands shaking slightly. His eyes are filled with admiration and desire. You can feel the heat of his gaze, and it makes you blush slightly.

"Come 'ere," he says, his voice hoarse. He pulls you to your feet, his lips crashing into yours. His tongue dances with yours, tasting himself on your tongue. His hands wandering over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. As you kiss Anakin, you can feel him growing hard again, his cock pressing against your thigh. He slowly walks forward, guiding you towards the small tractor in the back of the barn. His lips never leave yours, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch. He moans into the kiss, slapping his big hand against the fat of your ass. "Turn around for me baby." he commands.

Anakin bends you over the tractor, and flips your dress up, exposing your pink cotton panties to him. He strokes the growing wet spot gently, his fingers grazing your bare skin.

"Jesus, she's practically dripping for me." he whispers, his voice filled with lust. His hands move to your panties, tugging them to the side, revealing your swollen, hot flesh. He licks his lips, his eyes locked onto your slobbering cunt. His cock pulses, ready to be inside you.

Anakin lines up his cock with your entrance, gently pushing in. You gasp, your body adjusting to his girth. He holds onto your hips, guiding himself inside you. He thrusts deeper, his cock filling you completely. You moan softly, your body quickly getting used to his size. "Thaaat's it, angel." he praises, his voice low and alluring. "Let me in."

His hips move slowly at first, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your body responds, your cunt clenching around him, pulling him deeper. Anakin's breaths come in ragged gasps as he starts to move faster, his hips slamming into you, each thrust sending you further onto the tractor.

You cry out as he sweetly rolls his abdomen, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each movement. The tractor creaks under your weight, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the barn.

"Takin' me so good baby." he growls, you can feel his cock stretching you, filling you completely.

"M-more Ani," you beg, your voice hoarse. "Need more-"

"Yeah? You want more?" he rasps, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. Anakin pulls you up by your neck and your back is now pressed against his chest. He thrusts harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every movement. You yelp in surprise, your nails digging into the arm he has wrapped around your shoulders to keep your body flush against his. "There you go, you can take it, I know you can."

"Needy little girl," he teases, his voice thick with desire. "Just couldn't keep your hands off me at dinner, shit, could've bent you over that damn table and fucked you raw in front of your folks if I wanted to."

You moan, your head thrown back, your body moving with his. Your walls flutter around him when you hear his vulgar words.

He chuckles, his hands gripping your neck tighter. "You'd like that wouldn't you? Oh, you're dirty." He turns your head roughly, his lips crashing into yours, kissing you messily.

His tongue duels with yours, his hands gripping your neck tighter, holding you in place. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling. "Ani- cumming, c-cumming!" You can't form any coherent words, your breath coming in gasps as you neared your climax.

"Let go sweetheart, I got you," Anakin's breath tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks. You cry out as your orgasm quickly wracks over your body, your cunt contracting tightly around his cock. "That's my girl, c'mon." His breath comes in ragged gasps, and sweat trickles down his forehead, his chest heaving. It takes a few more powerful thrusts for him to fully unload inside you, his cum filling you up completely.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and carefully withdraws from you, his cock glistening with your wetness. He hastily pulls up his pants and adjusts himself.

"You did so good for me." he whispers, his voice filled with awe. He carefully fixes your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. "You look even prettier now," he says, his eyes filled with admiration.

He reaches up, fixing your hair, his fingers grazing your face. "You best get back to the house," he says, his voice filled with concern. "You know I'll be here tomorrow."

You nod, your cheeks flushed, your heart still racing from your encounter with him. "Mhm," you hum quietly. He smirks, his eyes filled with mischief.

You smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks when he leans in and brings his lips to yours one last time.

Anakin leads you towards the barn door, his hand still wrapped around yours. "I'll see you tomorrow sweetheart." he coos, his voice filled with promise.

You nod, your cheeks still flushed, your heart racing. "See you, farmboy." you say, your voice shaky. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and you step out of the barn, your body still buzzing from the encounter. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, watching you every step of the way. You glance back, catching him standing by his truck, his hands on his hips, watching you walk away.

You enter the house, trying to compose yourself. Your parents were still awake, sitting in the living room, sipping on their drinks. They didn't notice anything amiss about you, thankfully. You made your way upstairs to your room, still feeling the evidence of your encounter between your legs.

You feel a thrill of excitement, knowing that Anakin will be waiting for you at that old barn, ready to have you whenever he wants.

#nai writes ୨୧ #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen #st4rfckerz

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angelltheninth · 10 months

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shy reader with hobie nd miguel ? make it spicy pleasee

I'll make it mildly spicy for you Anon, not all the way.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown x Reader

Tags: fluff, very suggestive, flirting, grinding, mention of a boner, cuddles, making out, shy!Reader, clingy!Reader

A/N: Not sure how spicy I wanna go with Hobie yet cause of all the stupid age discourse surrounding him.

Miguel feels a little awkward around you because of your shyness at first. He doesn't want to come off as too demanding with you, especially when its his affections but he also doesn't want to feel you starved of it. Since you don't ask him for it he has to start things really slow with you, little kisses, hands carefully lowering you onto his lap and taking it from there.

"Gonna put you in my lap like this. You can touch me anywhere you know, no need to ask for it. Flustered so much from being in my lap. What would you do if I stopped holding back? What do I mean? Well, things like this, for example."

Finding yourself trapped under Miguel is a fantasy you've had for a long time now and never voiced. Thank god he knows exactly what you want, he can see, no, he can smell how your body reacts to it. Seeing his fangs peaking from his mouth has you clenching your thighs, shutting your eyes to avoid the embarrassment of getting hot and bothered from something so simple.

"Fuck. Little prey for me. You're making really hard for me to resist you. I feel like I should warn you, when you finally give me the signal, I will ruin you. That's a promise. You won't ever want or need anyone else when I show you what I can do."

Barely finding the courage, or maybe you were encouraged by the way Miguel looked at you, with raw lust, you placed a kiss on his lips and for the first time were the one to deepen it. The growl he let out sent heat between your legs and caused a hardness between his. If he was this big now you dreaded, and delighted, in the idea of taking it inside you some day.

"I'll make it fit. We can go step by step hm? You know I'll treat you right. I'm very lucky to have you, I'd never risk hurting you. Unless you ask me to. Oh, you have so much to learn about pleasure and pain."

Hobie is a huge, huge tease when he sees how shy you are around him. He's almost mean about it but he always makes sure to balance his teasing with a big amount of kisses and soft touches to let you know that he's just trying to get you to come out of your shell. He loves having fun and sharing it, and who better to share it with then you, the one who captured his heart.

"I'm gonna throw in the middle of a nightclub or nothing but maybe we can go out a bit more. I've got more down to earth people who I think you'd really like. They're not from here exactly but they're pretty cool. Not as cool as me of course."

When you lay on his chest and Hobie runs his hands down your back, stopping just above your ass you always hide your face against his shirt, grumbling how he's embarrassing you. There's no one here but the two of you, no one to be embaressed of, it's just him, that's what you wanted right? Some alone time.

"All the alone time you want baby. Know how much I love to have you on top. Get your mind out the gutter, how are you so shy but have such dirty thought around me. Hey, I don't mind, I just wish you'd be more honest with them."

The smallest circle down from you has Hobie grunting and rethinking if you're really shy or just like teasing him too. His test, pushing his hips up into yours and your little squeak confirms that yes, you are shy, but you're also not afraid of what you want. That's more like it, you'll have a lot of fun together.

"You gotta slow down or else I'm gonna ruin these. They're my favorite pants, you know that. Yes, I'm really asking you to hold still. I didn't say get off me, as long as you don't mind, you know, feeling me like that."

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sunshinescribes · 7 months

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Heyy sunny, i just read the story about Law with his head bury on s/o chest and i was like: damn, that's hot. And i kinda think Law need more pampering like pat in his head, caressing his knuckles or something. So, since your request is open, can we get Trafalgar Law get pampered by his s/o?

If you didn't wanna write it, you can skip this one :0

TENDER

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, comfort, Law is whipped but also bad at feelings

Sometimes Law thinks he dreamed you.

When you thread your fingers through his hair after a long day, massaging his scalp while whispering sweet praise, or absentmindedly caress his knuckles, leaving phantom kisses against his inked skin—he doesn’t think you’re real.

You come to him when he needs you most, as if you know he desires a comforting hand, a friendly word, and he melts into you every single time. His defenses shatter—the wall he’s constructed all this life comes tumbling down, and you hold him through the carnage.

You’re everything his heart secretly craves—so tender-hearted and caring, and wonderful—everything he feels he’s not.

And God, does he wonder what you see in him. Wonders how he manages to attract the kindest people when all he has to offer is practiced indifference. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, doesn’t voice the things he feels, but it doesn’t deter you, and despite how brilliant he is, Law can’t make sense of it. He could spend a lifetime trying to figure you out and would never even come close.

“What is going on in that pretty head of yours?” You inquire, your brow raised playfully as you stare down at him. “Can hear the gears in your head movin’.”

His head is in your lap, your soft fingers brush back mutinous strands of hair from his forehead, and he blinks up at you dumbly. It’s one of those rare peaceful evenings where the crew unwinds and breathes a sigh of relief as the Polar Tang slips through the sea, pushing you all towards your next destination with ease.

It takes a moment for your compliment to register—that pretty head of yours—and Law hates how his heart flutters. You say the most…outlandish things without considering their effect—flattery he never expected to like, but they always sound so lovely coming from you. The urge to look at anything but your pretty face almost overtakes him, but he fights his urges, keeps his dark eyes trained on you.

Instead, he arches a sharp brow at you and attempts to sound mildly offended, even though he’s certain you see right through him. “Pretty?”

You purse your lips, feigning thought.

“Would you prefer beautiful? Gorgeous?”

He rolls his eyes, but your soft teasing does little to calm the rapid beat of his unruly heart. When has anyone ever thought him pretty? Beautiful?

You say it as if it’s one of life’s simple truths, but he feels you’re much more deserving of such compliments, and he would shower you with them if he knew how to stop himself from biting his tongue.

Your free hand moves from its spot on his exposed chest, trailing upward until you’re softly cradling his jaw. You dip down, placing a tender kiss on his supple lips.

“Brains and beauty,” you murmur against his lips. “How lucky am I?”

I’m the lucky one, he thinks. To be cared for like this—to be treated like something worthy of being cherished and loved.

And maybe it’s the fear that makes the words catch in his throat, stops him from ripping out his bleeding heart and handing it to you.

He’s never had a good thing that lasted. Only fleeting moments of happiness, ripped right from under him just when he thinks tragedy can never reach him again. He’s lost so much already, and yet there’s always more to lose.

But you continue to smile at him, kiss years of self-loathing away, share your warmth and affection for as long as he accepts it, and Law allows himself to become a little hopeful—thinks maybe you’ll be the first good thing he gets to keep.

A/N: I feel like this kinda got away from me, but not in the "I wrote too much" way and more so the "I feel I deviated too far from the original prompt and am almost certain I was possessed while writing this" way. Despite that, I hope you enjoyed! I love love LOVE writing soft love for Law so this is a PSA to flood my requests with fluffy prompts!!!

Divider credit: @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #sunny.reqs #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #x reader #trafalgar law fluff #If Law listens to ONE Hoizer song he will feel so seen

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actuallysaiyan · 4 months

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BACONNNNNNN I HAVE A REQUESTTTTTTTTTTTT

can we get some choso and reader trying to fuck discreetly at a party? 🤭 them being caught or not is up to you 😘😉

warnings: alcohol, smoking weed, vaginal fingering, Choso is a little cocky but mostly cause he's scared to fuck shit up, college AU, unprotected sex, swearing word count: 1.8k pairings: Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader summary: you meet Choso at a party and something magical happens when the two of you decide to find a quiet room to hang out in.

The music is loud as you walk amongst the party-goers. You’ve been searching for someone in particular, but you haven’t seen him yet. He’s not much for parties, but he had assured you he’d be coming. Still, you were starting to have your doubts about this.

You grab a drink from the fridge, opening the can and sipping on its sweet contents. It’s one of those super popular mixed cocktails all the college kids are going crazy for lately. It’s a little too sweet for your taste, but it’s not bad right now. You’re a little buzzed and you know you need a bit more liquid courage if you were to see him.

You see a flash of dark brown hair and your heart skips a beat. There he is, Choso Kamo. The one you’ve been pining for all year long. The can shakes in your hands as you try to follow him, finding him heading out the backdoor to take in some fresh air. You know he doesn’t smoke, but enjoys the company of the smokers as they are all pretty decently chill.

You sink the contents of the can so fast, your stomach lurches as the alcohol splashes in your tummy. Then with shaky steps, you walk over to the backdoor. Without thinking twice, you exit the building and let the cool night air envelop you. It almost sobers you up as you feel yourself shivering. Choso smirks as he spots you, then he walks over to you to drape his sweater over your shoulders.

“It’s chilly out tonight,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

You giggle, “Yeah it is.”

You realize there’s hardly anyone else out here. Just a few stragglers trying to suck on their cancersticks in peace. Choso pulls something from his pocket and you smirk when you realize he’s brought a joint. Oh, so he does smoke…just not cigarettes.

“You smoke?” he asks, showing you the joint.

You nod your head, “A little.”

Your mouth goes dry as you watch him bring the joint to his lips. He looks hot even just doing something as simple as lighting a joint. He takes a few drags, his eyes drooping slightly as the weed takes its effect on him. Then he steps closer to you and passes the joint to you.

The conversation flows between you two comfortably. He asks about your classes and you complain about the amount of projects you have. Choso talks at great length about his own projects and the books he’s been reading. As you two chat and smoke the joint, you begin to realize just how much the two of you have in common.

It’s not long before he’s flicking the end of the cherry off the balcony. Then with a smirk on his face, he leans in a little closer. You feel his hot breath on your face and you feel need pooling in your lower tummy.

“Wanna find somewhere a little more private to continue this conversation?”

You should say no, and maybe tell him that you ought to go home for the night. But for the first time in so long, you were getting your chance with him. So in a low voice, you manage to agree to this. He takes your hand in his, leading you back into the party. Everyone is already so drunk and high, and the people dancing are almost pulsing to the beat of the catchy hip hop song.

Choso keeps a tight grip on you so as not to lose you. He manages to maneuver through the drunkards and ditzy girls. At the end of one of the hallways, Choso pulls you into one of the empty bedrooms. He closes the door behind you and then guides you to sit on the bed.

He takes a flask from his sweater pocket, the sweater you’re still wearing, and he opens it up and takes a swig. He passes it to you, a mischievous grin on his face. You take the flask from him and take a swig. It’s some very strong gin, which makes you cough and gag.

“Heh, yeah that’s some strong stuff.”

You shudder slightly when his big hand comes up to rub your back soothingly. Then his hand slides down your arm, only to go right back up so he can cup your cheek.

“You’re so pretty, ya know that?”

His words almost sound foreign to you. You have to think it over in your mind over and over again before his chuckle pulls you out of the funk. Then he just leans in and closes the gap between you two.

His lips are chapped but they feel so good against your own. You find some courage and you begin leaning into this kiss. His hands feel so good on your face as he cups your cheeks. You can’t help the moan that escapes you when his tongue slides into your mouth.

Just as you’re about to deepen the kiss, you hear some knocking on the door. Then a head pokes in, but the moment they see you and Choso, they close the door. There is some laughter, but you know it has to do more with them being embarrassed than you.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” Choso says as he helps you lay down on the bed. “Just focus on me.”

You don’t know what else to say, so you just nod your head and swallow your saliva. Choso smirks again before diving down to kiss you. This kiss is a bit hungrier and it’s paired with one of his hands caressing your body. He doesn’t linger on one spot for too long before moving onto the next.

You’re thinking he’s being coy about this when his hand shoves down your pants. You gasp into the kiss as his long fingers brush against your clothed cunt. Choso loves the sounds you make as he begins rubbing your swollen nub. Your panties begin clinging to your folds as he stimulates you even more.

“You like that, huh? I always thought you’d be into this sort of thing.”

His words do all kinds of things to you. Your mind is a mess as he continues playing with your panty-clad pussy. Then it gets even more intense as he pushes your panties aside. You moan his name when one of his fingers slides into you.

“Shhh…you gotta be a little more quiet than that, sweetheart.”

Choso isn’t quite sure where all this confidence is coming from, but he’s so glad he’s not completely fumbling. It must have something to do with the alcohol and weed he smoked. He’s thanking his lucky stars you’re into him just as much as he’s into you.

He pumps another one of his fingers into you to join the other, leaving you breathless and grasping the sheets below you. You throw your head back as his thumb comes up to rub your clit, making you drip all over his hand.

“How about we take this a little further, huh?”

His breath smells like gin and weed, and in that moment, it’s the most sexy thing you’ve ever experienced. You nod your head dumbly, your eyes rolling back with every pump of his fingers.

“Nah, you gotta say it. Say the words, baby.”

You swallow hard again, and try to think of the right words to say. It was becoming increasingly harder and harder as he continued to finger you. His long fingers curling to press against that spongy spot deep inside you that made you see stars.

“Fuck me, Cho. Please Cho…”

His cock throbs when you beg and you say his name so sweetly like that. It was going to be hard to resist you if you were going to be this cute every time he would fuck you. Choso knows not to push his luck, but he knows he’ll take the chance again if need be.

He’s quick to pull your pants and panties down. His mouth widens as he sees your cute little pussy on display. As much as he wants to taste you, he knows he’s got not enough time for this. He spreads your legs and then he’s pushing down his own pants past his ass.

“Ready for me?” Choso asks in a teasing tone, rubbing the head of his cock all over your soaked folds.

“Please, don’t tease me. I’m ready.”

With one long thrust, he’s balls deep inside of you. He thinks for a split second that he probably should have put on a condom, but you don’t seem to have any problems with him going in raw. His hips snap fast and hard from the get go, leaving you breathless. You cling to him as the pleasure builds so fast.

“Fuck, you’ve got the best little pussy, ya know that?”

His face is buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to quiet himself. You’re both moaning and whimpering, doing all you can to not draw too much attention to yourselves. The pleasure just feels so good. Choso can’t believe your little cunt is gripping him quite like this. It’s so tight and warm, he can’t help but pound you into the mattress.

“Fuuuuuccckkk,” Choso moans out as he presses himself even deeper into you. “Fuck fuck fuck—”

You feel him biting into the tender flesh of your neck to quiet himself even more. You cry out his name, nails coming up to dig into his shirt. You’re trying to keep yourself grounded, but it’s all too much.

“Tightest little pussy ever! Fuuuck you feel so good.”

Your walls begin pulsing around him as the fat tip of his cock keeps slamming into that sweet spot of yours. You’re not even sure how you’re keeping quiet right now, especially when he’s fucking you so good.

You watch as he leans back a little, pulling out just a bit and he spits on your cunt. You shudder as his fingers begin to rub the saliva on your clit, and his pace picks up again quicker than before. Flames lick in your lower tummy, and your mind begins to go blank from the sensations.

“Haaah, look at you. Fuckin’ you dumb, aren’t I? Damn, gonna have to make you my little princess.”

You nod eagerly, tears stinging your eyes as you feel the coil in your stomach tightening impossibly tight. Choso smirks as he watches you come undone. Your gummy walls begin to milk him, and Choso pulls out just in time to jerk himself off to completion. Ropes of hot cum cover your mound and lower belly. Choso then sits back on his knees, admiring his handiwork.

What surprises you is when he leans in and gives you such a tender kiss.

“I meant what I said,” he smirks. “Gonna have to make you my little princess.”

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trashywormeateroffics · 3 months

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hits different (natasha romanoff x female reader)

the gif is not mine!

summary: in all the time you'd known natasha romanoff, there is one thing you knew for sure. there was no one like her. and if she were to leave, you'd never move on. a song fic. hits different by taylor swift. (angst and then fluff!!!)

a/n: send me asks if you so wish to. im accepting taylor swift songs paired with natasha, bucky or loki. <3

masterlist

////

in all the time you had known natasha romanoff, the one and only thing you were sure of was that there was no one like her. and it wasn’t because of how beautiful she was, and she was goddamn breathtaking, it wasn’t because she was skilled in a way no person was, or because she seemed to always know everyone’s secrets; no, that wasn’t it, the public natasha, the one everyone knew, respected and feared. it could’ve been that version of her, because that natasha was amazing, but private nat, as you called her, was, simply, out of this world.

it all started as every problem does, with someone’s devilish smile. and lord, does she have the most tempting smile ever. it was simple after that, you became close, best friends, until the friendly hugs became more… intimate. until the friendly cheek kisses became full on make out sessions. it was easy with natasha, everything flowed perfectly. she knew you, and despite the last thing she said to you, you knew her.

i washed my hands of us at the club

you made a mess of me

i pictured you with other girls in love

then threw up on the street

it was a monday when natasha romanoff decided that she no longer wanted you. she had been acting strange and distant and it all seemed to click for her when that morning you decided to bake her some cupcakes. it might have seem silly to someone else, but that was your way of telling her that you loved her, given that your first kiss had been while baking some cupcakes for steve’s birthday last year. this time though, it was her birthday.

she had been training with bucky in the compound's gym and she entered the kitchen sweaty with a reddened face.

“nat!” you called her as you pulled the sweet goods out of the oven and glanced at her over your shoulder.

“hey…” she looked around, almost as if looking for an escape. but you were too naive, too stupid to realize it, so you kept going.

“happy birthday!” you turned around with the tray in your hands. her eyes fell on the cupcakes and for the first time since you knew her, you wished she wouldn't even direct her gaze at you. the look on her face made your stomach twist. the realization that crossed her features at your gesture, the furrow of her brows as she took it in, and, finally, the disgust at the thought of loving you too. in the two seconds all of this passed, you kept smiling like an idiot, hoping, hoping, hoping.

“y/n,” she simply said and your smile fell immediately.

“yeah…?”

“what is this?”

“cupcakes?” you said, more a question than a statement. almost as if you weren't sure. she took in a sharp breath through her nose, still looking at you. “i wanted to do something nice for you, and i know you don't particularly care about birthdays but i thought-”

“no.” she cut your rambling off, shaking her head. “this is- this is not just cupcakes. and you know that.” you frowned.

“then what is it?”

“its-”

“what?” you asked again, defensively. she was hurting you. she ignored you and distanced herself from you, and then she ruined your nice gesture with more distance. “what is it natasha?”

she looked taken aback by your use of her full name, being used to you calling her a soft nickname. then she composed herself, looking at you coldly.

“you can't do this.” she told you.

“do what?”

“don't play dumb.” she clenched her jaw. “you can't pretend that everything is fine. you know how i've been acting, you know i've been trying-”

“you wanna break up with me?” you asked her, unwavering, putting up a strong front. she swallowed.

“yes.” she admitted.

“why?” natasha sighed, frustration lacing her sigh, almost as if she couldn't tell she was breaking your heart in a million pieces right then and there.

“i can't- i never meant for it to get this far.”

“you didn't mean to what? to lead me on?” you asked her but her gaze was on the ground. “look at me and answer the question!” you raised your voice.

“yes!” she widened her eyes at her admission, surprised by her tone. natasha ran her hand over her reddened face. “yes.” she said softly. “yes… i didnt mean for it to get this far. i didn't mean for you to…”

you nodded rapidly, repeatedly, almost mockingly. then you let out an incredulous laugh.

“you didn't mean for me…?” you trailed off, waiting for her to finish her statement.

“for you to make me cupcakes! for you to… to…” she didn't finish her sentence. for you to fall in love with me.

“you didn't mean for that to happen? then why did you let it?” she didn't answer. “why?!”

“you are hard to push away.” she might as well have grabbed a knife and stabbed you with it, to proceed then to twist it, repeatedly. the air was knocked out of you. what could you say to that? all those months you thought you were living a real life love story, a story worth telling the world, she was trying to get out of it but couldn't find a way to do so. that broke your heart. and it made you feel so stupid, it was blinding how embarrassing it was. defeated, you frowned and took a good, long look at her, pretending that was the last time you were going to see her. and truthfully, it was. that was the last time you were going to see nat, your love. so that's why you did the next thing.

they say that if it's right, you know

“fine.” you dropped the tray and walked away quickly as the sound of the metal hitting the marbled floor resounded all the way to the end of the hallway.

each bar plays our song

nothing has ever felt so wrong

she's everywhere. she haunts your dreams, and when you're awake, she haunts every place in the compound. she's not there physically– she has been avoiding you ever since she broke your heart– but her perfume, her laugh, her presence, they're all there. you're sick of it, sick of her memory, sick of your shattered heart. which is why you call her.

oh my, love is a lie

shit my friends say to get me by

it hits different

it hits different this time

“i can't believe it, i'm gonna kill her.” wanda tells you when you finish your story. she is sitting next to you on a booth in a beautiful bar, far away from the compound. if only you would be able to appreciate the beauty.

“you don't have to, wands. it's fine.”

“oh yeah, it's so fine that you asked me to go to a bar! miss introvert!” she scoffs. “what an asshole. i'm going to knock some sense into her.” you fidget with the straw of your drink.

“there is no sense to be knocked into her. it's simple. she doesn't love me back.” even though you say it nonchalantly, it suddenly feels like someone very heavy is sitting on your chest. your eyes begin to gather some tears, but you blink them away. wanda notices. of course she does.

“hey. lets go dance. fuck her.” you nod and she grabs your hand and pulls you to the dance floor. before you leave the table, you grab your drink, feeling like you're gonna need it.

...

“wanda! look!” you do a weird dance move and the redhead laughs, doing one herself. it's been a while since she dragged you to the dance floor, and you've had more than a couple of drinks, so you're, to put it elegantly, hammered.

“i'm going to get another beer!” she yells over the music, and you nod, not paying much attention. you're having too much fun, dancing weirdly and forgetting your pain.

not a lot of time passes when you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder. you turn around, expecting to find wanda, but instead, there is a woman. a beautiful woman.

“hey there.” she's looking at you amused, and for a second you think she's going to laugh at your dancing. “i've been watching you and your friend for a while. you seem to be having a lot of fun. mind if i join you?”

oh. oh. well, hell yeah.

she laughs and you realize you just said the last part out loud. you scrunch up your nose.

“sorry, had too much to drink. i'm not going to have a filter now.” she tilts her head back as she laughs, and you notice she has dimples. “pretty smile.” you tell her as you point at her. “sorry.”

“don't worry.” she puts her hand on your arm. “thank you. so, are we going to dance?”

“yeah!” you nod enthusiastically and begin moving again, swaying your body from one side to the other.

you're taken aback when she puts her hands on your hips and draws herself closer. maybe this is exactly what you need. so you hook your arms around her neck and begin dancing more suggestively. she smirks and pulls you even closer, your breaths mingling. she smells like vanilla and you close your eyes, preparing yourself. then, she kisses you.

her mouth is on yours, and she smells like vanilla and tastes like cherries and she's beautiful and seems kind…

but she's not nat.

you stop moving your mouth and she pulls away frowning. god, you miss her.

you don't realize until a few moments later that she's saying something.

“are you okay?”

“what?” and that's when you feel them. hot tears are streaming down your face. she looks worried, but also uncomfortable. poor woman, she wasn't expecting to be a therapist today. “sorry. i'm so so sorry.”

“hey, its okay. what happened?”

“i broke up with my girlfriend last week.” you chuckle bitterly through your tears. “she broke up with me.” understanding crosses her features. “i'm sorry.” you repeat again, sniffling.

“i'm going to go get your friend, okay?”

you nod and suddenly, the world is spinning. you didn't realize how drunk you were. she puts her hands on your waist to stabilize you and you let out a sob. this is such a mess. you're so embarrassed. and you miss nat. you just want to go home and crawl into her bed and let her kiss away all your tears and hug away your pain. but you can't. because she doesn't love you.

“i'll be right back.” and then she's gone. you look at her as she walks away, still crying.

it isn't long before wanda is by your side, with the woman still there. you're surprised she hasn't run away yet.

“babe! are you okay?” you shake your head, and she wipes your tears with her thumbs. “thank you, i'll take it from here.” she tells the woman, whose name you don't know.

“what's your name?” you ask her, sniffling.

“violet.” she smiles, pity dripping from her expression.

“thank you, violet. and i'm sorry. you're so beautiful, i'm just-”

“i know. it's alright.” she tells you. “and for the record, she's an idiot. you're the most breathtaking woman i've ever seen.” you purse your lips and look down, embarrassed.

“thank you,” you mumble.

“see you around.” and then, she's gone.

“let's go get a cab.” wanda tells you, putting her arm around your waist so you don't fall. she doesn't seem drunk, unlike you. but, to be fair, you didn't really pay a lot of attention to how much she drank.

“yeah.” you nod.

and i never don't cry (no, i never don't cry) at the bar

yeah, my sadness is contagious (my sadness is contagious)

i slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car

i stopped receiving invitations

you walk out of the bar and get into a cab. you're still crying, silently. and you're tired. and you're starting to get angry. so you grab your phone. the line stops ringing, and you know she can hear you breathe.

“idiot.” you tell her. she doesn't answer. she doesn't hang up either.

“y/n, put down the phone.” wanda tells you once she realizes what you're doing. but you get away from her.

“you're an idiot, you know that natasha? that's what violet thinks. i'm breathtaking apparently.” you sniffle. “but you couldn't see that. i deserve more than that, more than you.”

“y/n,” she says sternly. “where are you?”

“what do you care?”

“i'll come pick you up, just give me the address-”

“i'm in a cab with wanda. and no, you can't pick me up.” you hiccup. your friend looks at you. “god, natasha. youre so… so…” wanda shakes her head. you look down at your hands.

“so what?” she asks you in a low voice, almost as if expecting the worst thing to come out of your mouth.

“i'm sorry.” you blurt out. “i'm sorry i'm so hard to push away.”

“y/n-”

“and im sorry i fell in love with you.” she falls silent. you sob silently. “goodbye.” and you hang up.

“i don't know what im gonna do without her.” you tell wanda.

“you'll be okay, y/n. you'll find someone wonderful who can give you what you deserve.”

“yeah…” you wipe your tears with your hand and look out the window. you don't tell wanda that you don't want to find anyone else, that if it's not natasha, then it's you, alone.

movin' on was always easy for me to do

it hits different

it hits different 'cause it's you

the next morning, you wake up with a splitting headache and you moan and grunt and thrash around your bed. after complaining for a bit, your mind is filled with images of last night. wanda and you talking, dancing. violet. violet dancing with you, then… kissing you. crying. calling natasha. wait. calling natasha? oh no.

“fuck. me.”

slowly, painstakingly slowly, you get out of bed, put on your socks, and head to the compound's kitchen.

when you reach it, you don't expect to find wanda and natasha sitting there, but you do.

as soon as you enter, wanda looks at natasha pointedly, then at you, and then leaves without a word.

you nod at natasha as a greeting and go to open the fridge, but she's quick and blocks the door. you blink at her. you weren't expecting to find her there, and you were not, in a million years, expecting her to give you the time of day.

“we need to talk.” you sigh. there's a few inches between you two but you can still smell her perfume. and it's killing you.

“if it's about the call, i'm sorry, okay? forget about it. just- pretend it didn't happen.” she looks at you.

“i can't.” you take a deep breath.

“i don't know what else to say. i'm sorry.”

“could you stop saying sorry for a second?” she snaps. you frown. “i'm sorry, y/n. i am.”

“for what, nat?” you sigh. “it's not your fault you don't love me.”

“that's the thing.” she runs her hands over her face.

“what is?”

“i do love you, y/n.” the world stops for a few seconds, but then you clench your jaw and shake your head.

“is this because of violet?” she looks away. “you're jealous i'm trying to move on and so you manipulate me?”

“no, it's not like that.” you scoff.

“please.”

“okay.” she nods. “i'm not going to pretend i care for you kissing another woman. i dont. i wanted to go over there and punch her.” against your will, butterflies swarm your stomach at her admission. “but- but that's not it.”

“then what is it?”

“i realized- i've known i love you for a long time, y/n. but i'm- i'm no good for you.” you frown.

“what?”

“you deserve more than someone who freaks out because you told them you love them. you deserve-”

“let me stop you right there.” you cut her off. she blinks, looking at you scared. but you give her a soft, small smile. “you love me?”

“yes. so much.”

“but you freaked out because you think you don't deserve me.”

“yes.”

“and you lied to me. you told me you didn't feel the same.” she looks guilty.

“yes, but-”

“no, no. let me finish.” you take a deep breath. “violet was right.” she clenches her jaw at the mention of her name. “you are an idiot.” she frowns.

“um-”

“you're an idiot, natasha romanoff. but i can't live without you. and i don't ever want to.” her eyes soften, and fill with hope.

“you're saying that you- that you forgive me?”

“you really hurt me nat. but i should've known you'd do something like that. you're not the best at this feelings stuff.” she smiles sheepishly.

“i'm not. but i want to be, for you.”

“i know. and i trust you'll be. after all, you did just admit that you love me.”

“yeah,” she chuckles, “it just took me breaking your heart.” you tilt your head. even though she's joking, you know there's guilt there.

“hey,” you caress her cheek. “its okay.” she's looking at the floor now. “baby. it's okay, i promise.”

“i'm really sorry. i promise you, i'll never do something like that ever again.”

“i know,” you whisper, “now, are you going to kiss me or what?” she laughs and it twists your stomach into knots. god, you missed her.

she grabs your face between her hands and puts her mouth on yours. the kiss begins soft, but after a bit it becomes desperate.

“i missed you so much.” she says when she pulls away for air. then, she's back attacking your mouth.

“i love you.” you tell her, and you kiss her again, and again.

“i love you too.”

yeah, there was no one like her.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #mcu natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #mcu x reader #wlw

377 notes · View notes

satocidal · 6 months

Text

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ “Stacey’s Mom has got it going on” — Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: You can’t help eyeing your daughter’s pretty boyfriend when he’s just so sweet, and he can’t help himself either when you’re the best he would ever find.

— word count: 4.2k

— A/n: idk if this qualifies as dc (I don’t think so) but it has like, idk age gap and cheating concepts so take care

— warnings: smut!! MDNI!! Age gap (Gojo is 20 and you’re bordering late 30s); cheating; sort of asshole representative? But how else would something like this work; hair pulling; body worshipping; oral (f! Receiving); dub-con (slightly?); Satoru is a shit boyfriend to your daughter; hinted domestic abuse; mentions of scars; almost subby! Satoru? (There’s no definite concept of who’s dominant- and if satoru then a lot of soft dom); slight spitting; riding; simultaneous orgasm

21-7, Shinjuku 3-chome, Shinjyuku, Tokyo.

He had the address memorised, down to the number of windows in your house and the exact shade of the monotonous white your husband had deemed “minimalist”.

19 he was now, you stood at an elegant 37—arriving in the vicinity at an estimated 5 years ago, your husband’s property, he’d guessed.

Gojo Satoru was 14 when he first saw you, puberty making its way into the young boy’s mind—you did none but encourage the certain downfall in the way you tapped his cheek when he offered to help you in carrying the many bags.

Over the years, Satoru saw you a lot, and also, didn’t at all.

Satoru saw you in the afternoon haze, dealing with the heat—staring obnoxiously when you took off your floral shirts, standing in front of him in those tight leggings and tank tops—but he also saw you at times that you didn’t know about.

And when he didn’t see you physically, you were present on his mind.

At least up until his 18th birthday, you knew of his presence when he would come to meet you.

What had begun as an innocent tap on his cheek for being adorable had developed into an innocent friendship on your accords, smiling wide every few months when he would zoom past your house on his cycle.

The routine was simple then, left-right-right-left, 15 minutes of a way from his house, and there he would be, at your gate—somehow always when you had grocery to carry.

The routine was simple now too, 11 p.m. he would sneak out of his dorm room, a smirk on his face as he used his infinity—making his way into your house, all so quietly, to watch your pretty face as you slept—sometimes even snickering when he caught you being fucked by your husband, snickering at that bored expression on your face, knowing just how much better he could treat you.

He’d never been inside however, general courtesy to be shown, not as a kid—never yet as an adult.

Back then you’d giggled when a 17 year old Gojo had brought his shy friend to meet you, both their cycles parked outside your house as you tended to their boyish smirks, he doubted you’d giggle knowing that the same friend, Geto, was the one he sent your pictures to when he found you sleeping.

But Satoru wasn’t dumb, he knew you’d realise at some point and so, he did what he had to.

In his head, it was all your fault too, so oblivious to everything that he had to choose the second best, your daughter.

“I know she’s like hot and what not but you gotta let her go dude,” Suguru’s voice was a drag—partially dry from all the alcohol he’d consumed.

Satoru’s 20th birthday was approaching, a week left, the celebrations of course had to last a month.

Satoru chuckled beside his best friend—almost wasted he noted—“it’s not like I wanna fuck her or something,” he grinned, he knew wanted to, he knew he possibly couldn’t, “it’s just, I could treat her so much better you know? That stupid little house-”

Suguru smirked, “-don’t bring money into it you pervert,” his eyes bore into his best friend’s, “her daughter ain’t that bad ya know,”

Satoru snorted at that, “which is exactly why I went for her too,”

Just at that, Geto snorted too—mindlessly, shamelessly, both of them.

-ring!!

Slow, both their eyes panned onto Satoru’s phone, ‘my love’ the screen flashed, Suguru snorted again, “Ironic,”

With a roll of his eyes and a short smirk, he shook his head—knowing she’d only be calling because she was needy, at least that’s all he remembered her to be.

“Mmhmm baby, gonna drop by in half an hour yeah? Yeah, yeah, miss you too, bye,”

He always sounded sweet- that was what your daughter rambled about, Satoru Gojo was the sweetest guy ever, and you were glad mostly, a little jealous? You weren’t sure.

It just wasn’t something you ever had.

As Satoru got up to leave though—“you ever let your girl go though, hit me up alright?”

Satoru eyed his best friend with a grin- that was something he could do—“have our own fucked up family eh?”

“Satoru?” You smiled, “long time honey,”

‘For you’, he thought, smiling smugly, “I keep you in well wishes all the time so, not so much Ma’am,”

You chuckled at his words—ever the gentleman he’d been, “that’s adorable, is that how you charmed my daughter too?”

His heart ached at that—only a little however, no, it was all only for you, all the charm—all for his only woman.

Thoughts flashed onto his own girlfriend, he remembered the night well—it wasn’t much, her 16th birthday, he’d just turned 17 too— he’d dropped by, getting you those medicines you’d requested a week or so ago—they were only found near his vicinity, he could only oblige.

Curiosity often killed ended up killing the cat.

He’d racked his brain, he thought of it for endless nights—he didn’t want to accept it, not so easily, not when you made it seem simple.

Each of what you’d asked him to get was a pain killer.

He’d disliked your husband before, but since after, he was sure he hated him.

That night, he’d sat outside your house with your daughter, she was smoking—he was used to it, he hated the smell.

“Aren’t you too young to be smoking?” He’d teased, exactly how he used to Suguru and Shoko—except she didn’t entertain the jokes, never had, never would.

However, before a mean retort could fall off of her lips, a crash sounded all too loud.

Not accidental, Satoru knew that.

He was quick to get up, he was no hero, but his life be sworn if he let you suffer such—a hand held him back.

“Don’t get into it,” she warned, your daughter did.

He didn’t, it wasn’t his place to.

Your husband cheated that night, as he had countlessly, your daughter found her first boyfriend—you wept that night, Satoru’s heart did too.

“Can’t lie I keep a special bank reserved for my uh…mature ladies,” a wink he passed, he made you feel young, alive.

A shake of a head you passed and a knowing laugh.

You noted his lingering gaze, the bruise on your forearm ever present, never you said a word- never him.

The silence engulfing and nauseating.

“Your uh,” his words were rough, “anniversary yeah? Round the corner isn’t it?”

You giggled, almost as if it mattered, “So he remembers? And your own, isn’t it?” A look of slight confusion masked your face, he grinned, “a week after yours, it’s my birthday though, on the same day that is, you always mess it up,”

An apologetic smile you passed this time around, “why, I’m sorry, let me make up by baking you a pie honey?”

A thin smile adorned his face—shaking his head, he ushered you back in, waiting patiently for your daughter to bounce back, to remind him of his reality.

But just as you did turn, “wait, by the way,” his eyes lay stuck upon the bruises you didn’t care to hide, “how’re things going?”

His eyes gazed upon the sheer material of your shirt, “how’s…Mr Y/l/n?”

Almost a sneer, as if, you stared, “perfectly fine, Toru—how’re things with Y/d/n?”

He stared blankly this time around—“perfectly fine Ma’am.”

“Pass me the lighter,”

Satoru stared at his best friend’s outstretched hands—your daughter’s pretty smile as she handed him hers—the same smile that had intrigued Satoru to even look at her, the only feature on her face that resembled you.

“What are your plans for the anniversary?” The words registered in Satoru’s ears—he wasn’t sure who the speaker was, he didn’t exactly care, “I could help around your house,” a mutter, as if unsure to why—but certain that he wanted to.

Cocked brows looked at him confused, “…isn’t it your 20th birthday though?”

He nodded.

“Who wastes their 20th birthday helping around random houses?” Suguru’s tone was almost annoyed, as if he knew—or could’ve guessed why.

Satoru’s girlfriend laughed, “You know he’s screwed a little right? Can’t stop him if he doesn’t want to,”

Satoru nodded again—it gutted him onto how well she bothered to know him—and yet, he perhaps didn’t even bother knowing her favourites most of the time.

“No no,” head shaking, a grimace fell onto Suguru’s face, “pretty boy here can do whatever he wants,” a knowing look they both passed—“but 20s don’t happen again, go big or go home,”

Satoru chuckled, of course he had it all planned out, “I’m going big and going home,”

Another charming smile, another wink—just something you couldn’t become a fool too.

A slight frown rested on your lips, “You sure hon? You don’t have to waste your evening like this…”

It was almost motherly, the way you showed concern—in ways Satoru had barely experienced.

He scoffed, “Time well spent is never wasted,”

“You’re going to mow a lawn baby,” you chuckled, “y/d/n isn’t home either- you know her sleepover- I don’t see how-”

“-anything to please and help you is almost the best kind of work I could do,” you’d have smiled usually, at his words—a tiny flirt you always deemed him—laughing about it to your husband, even though he barely cared.

You didn’t care of it either, an empty marriage, so be it—hollowed from both ends, slow.

But this time, this was different.

This time you’d perhaps bask in his help—no husband to taunt by complimenting little Satoru, no daughter to tease by complimenting little Satoru.

Satoru wasn’t all so little, you realised—your daughter and husband weren’t home—just you, Satoru and his praises.

6 p.m. — 7 p.m. — 8 p.m.

Satoru didn’t remember a time to the when he’d done all so much work for his own mother- but he was content, with a pair of earphones and a creative little mind, he was intent to impress you.

It amused him, to actually how big of a lawn you actually did have—and he wondered at the almost pristine look of it if you managed it yourself.

Even if you did, he would be your helping hand now—he grinned ear to ear as he thought the countless many scenarios.

‘Desperate’ , a little voice in his head called—“my pretty good boy” your voice, the one you used in his thoughts, fought away all doubts.

But all to quick his train of thoughts paused, “you missed a spot there Toru’”

And most of the time, he’d be pissed on to anyone who dared to correct him—with you he’d nod obediently and carry on—but normally, even your normally, you didn’t step out in front of him in just a small, pretty pink towel wrapped around you.

Satoru Gojo had pretty eyes, a decent imagination too—he’d thought about you plenty of times.

Naked, spread open, on your knees, having him between your knees—many and every and any position but absolutely nothing could’ve compared to the way seeing you covered just enough—in a small towel got him hard.

Satoru Gojo had pretty eyes and for a second they were wide as saucers.

His eyes panned onto the spot you pointed at—he had indeed missed a spot—he nodded slowly.

The music rang in his ears—

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Ironic.

“I’ll get to it, going for a bath?”

It shouldn’t have been that casual—him asking you your schedule such—you let it be so.

“It’s getting late, want to stay the night? And yeah—yeah, a bath,”

Stay the night.

There the offer lay and his temptation—he watched the careless way you held the towel, all so small that decency was the only thing that stopped him from staring shamelessly at your exposed thigh.

“I don’t know-”

An attempt, simply a stupid attempt to save him and you—“-I insist and what song is that?”

He stared blankly, “Stacey’s mom,”

“How I love that song,”

Of course you did- he watched you walk away as the song continued playing.

Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn?

Your mom came out with just a towel on

I could tell she liked me from the way she stared

And the way she said

"You missed a spot over there"

Down the drain, his character, perhaps yours—then relationships you’d held, everything.

Another nod.

“I’m staying the night Suguru,”

“Hah?!”

An eye roll, an obnoxiously pitched questionnaire, “The fuck? It’s your damn birthday tomorrow—why did you make me get that damn cake?”

Jaw clenched, he stared at the recently mowed lawn—10:00 p.m.

It was too late.

“Better get a taste of her damn pussy if you’re staying the night fucker,”

Satoru shook his head, a smile, “Shut up, talk about her nicely,”

“I’ll talk to her nicely when your girlfriend talks to me nicely when I’m dicking her down, really got yourself a brat huh?”

The smirk was evident in his tone- Satoru wanted to feel betrayed, he couldn’t.

“You’re such a bloody fucker,” he muttered through, “Take care of her,”

“Always have—you take care of her damn mom,”

And he always had too.

10:15 p.m.

He found it simply, weird, that you were in the shower all so long—shaving?

It was your anniversary tomorrow, a loyal wife, a good wife—you’d present yourself well—he thought.

He wasn’t entirely wrong either, was he?

Foggy, your bathroom mirrors stood as you prepared yourself just right, shaven smooth—a guilty heart panged in your chest.

You watched the many scars lingered upon your body, natural, provided—all yours and you doubted it, doubted the mere fact that Satoru would even think about touching you the way you fantasised.

It was wrong—just a fortnight ago and he was the sweet boy you used to adore and having by, just a week ago he was the boyfriend of your daughter that made your relationship all the more insecure, just tonight he was growing into his age.

Head hung back, you stared at the ceiling- so wrong and so right.

Almost melancholic, your train of thoughts was, and his too as he sat by the window of your room—“Please clean these windows too,” you’d said with a smile, breasts pushed together as you held your hand in front of you—the little pink towel did nothing, you knew that.

His hard-on was obvious, you’d had that effect on guys all the time—but then, maybe it wasn’t for you, maybe he just saw the sight and it reminded him of- maybe-

“God~ fuck-!”

Your ears perked up, maybe that was a moan.

Not maybe, it was—it was all too certain a breathy moan.

And before the better judgement was to be passed, there you were, the pink towel wrapped around all the more perversely as you twisted the knob of the door—entering your room to the prettiest sight in a while that you’d seen.

“Satoru?”

Eyes all so wide, the ministrations came to an immediate halt—“Mrs- Mrs- I- shit,”

You watched him scramble about, struggling to get the pants that he’d pulled down to his ankles, back in place—pale cheeks tinted with the embarrassment he held-“I’ll leave right now,” and you knew your figure standing about, almost naked, did not help.

A giggle you passed, “Satoru, it’s fine baby, what’re you so embarrassed about?”

That, he didn’t expect, neither did you.

A low ‘huh’ dropped from his mouth,a hardened cock hanging out for you to ogle at.

“Yes I mean,” you continued, slowly moving towards him, “it’s all…natural isn’t it? You’re a big boy now too,” your voice was sweet as honey, pulling him, reeling him in.

He watched, estranged, as you swayed your hips, moving in, pulling him—pushing him and there he lay in your bed.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“Tell me Satoru,” you whispered, nimble fingers grasping the hem that covered you—“are you all grown up? Still my big boy?”

A silent nod, your towel fell.

A smile etched across your face as you saw his mouth widen-“l-like what you see?”

A slight stutter, you were nervous too—just as him.

And it was entirely a surprise to you then, when his were the hands that grasped your hips rough—flipping the both of you over so he was on top.

Lips attached to your neck—his hands ran wild as they explored every bit of you—“So much, so so much, you’re gorgeous,”

Frenzied moans, hefty touches—it was almost as he’d been dying to touch you—and he had.

His lips moved fast—faster than his fingers, moving across every inch of you—a slight tingle you felt as wet and sloppy kisses he left across your shoulder blades, your hands tugging at the white tuft of his hair.

“So soft,” he murmured against your skin— “so fuckin pretty,” he was skillfull, almost, in the way he managed to completely disregard your needs in the moment.

Not a single brush of his fingers or crotch against your pussy—a tease.

You wanted to cry, pleasure hit you hard—and in the way he lingered seconds too long upon every scar that your husband had given you, at every bruise that you held—in the way he handled you so carefully, not as if you were fragile but as if you were his desire personified.

“Tell me, Satoru,” you snickered, at the breathy moans he let out, “how long have you waited for this,”

“Forever,” he breathed out—the crystal blue eyes finally met you then, “God forbid I just- please, please let me?” A whine he let out still, so desperate.

“Always this needy hm?”

He shook his head fast, “Only for you,”

And you knew that just there he was begging all so easily.

“Please- ple-ase,” his voice was a drag, as if afraid that he’d lose this moment all so soon, “please let me…let me touch you- feel you,”

A twinkle in your eye, “if you’re good, yeah?”

He bobbed his head at that- “on your knees for me baby,”

And that he did, so obedient, “Show me how much you’ve yearned,”

It was a dynamic, if anything—you held the control surely, and you lay naked too—sprawled out as your head rested upon the pillows steadily, his between the plush of your thighs.

An airy gasp you let out as you felt him spit upon it, “fuck you’re glistening,” he whined, “So wet from just the thought of me?”

You felt his fingers spread your folds out, he felt so cold against the warmth of your pussy, “Didn’t even need me to spit huh? But had to mark you didn’t I? Remind you that I am the one who gets you this way- has your husband ever gotten you this way huh?”

His words seemed almost feral, a growl with every word as he kept lowering his head— he focused upon your clit.

Your legs lay spread wide open for him, one his hands resting upon your thigh, rubbing soft soothing circles—while the hand finger fucked you.

His finger slipped in so easily, a groan both of you let out together, “so fucking warm I- your pussy’s pratically begging to be ruined,”

You squirmed at his words—already dumb at the way his middle and ring finger pumped inside of you,

“More please,” you moaned out, “need more,”

A smirk he held as he lowered his lips, nipping at your pussy lips, “More what Ma’am? More of what hm?”

A loud whine you let out at his word- “Fuck Toru’ not tonight, please just touch me—want you,”

Enough encouragement, in fact it was all he needed before landing his tongue flat upon your clit, swiping it back and forth upon the little nub.

“Scream my name please,” rough hands pulled at your legs—resisting you from closing your legs—“Arch your back and scream my name, let your neighbours know I’m the one in your silly fucked marriage that gets you so worked up and not that fucker,”

His words barely registered in your head—thrashing at the liable pleasure he held onto you, “Sh-it Toru’ I- right there! Yes please,”

He grinned as he looked up at your face briefly, before diving right back in, suckling at your hardened clit as his fingers prepared your cunt to be ruined by his cock.

“God I should film you being so needy for me,” another groan as his tongue lapped upon your core—“should teach em how to please the perfection you are,”

You whimpered at his words, eyes rolling back at the way he provided just the right kind of pressure- until you weren’t.

A loud whine and groan as he pulled out of your cunt, he grinned, “Want you to cum on my cock when you do — wanna feel you clamp down hard,”

You looked into his eyes, hesitant? Neither of you.

“Taste yourself,” and before you could pull away, shoved into your mouth were his two fingers as you sucked onto it—“Fuckin’ delicious,” he muttered as he pulled away the fingers too.

Needy, he wanted you needy.

Slow, he moved about, rising about and pulling you with him as he kissed your arms—“someday, I’ll leave such pretty marks on you, those are the ones you deserve,”

You bit your lips hard- he did too, as you straddled his lap—“please,” he whimpered and you giggled, “how many times do you think about this?”

All the time.

Any and everytime he was alone, just you on his cock bouncing to chase your euphoria.

You cupped his face as you stared at him, such a pretty innocent look he held—you grinned devilishly as you lined your entrance upon his tip.

"yeah. 'think about it a lot. want you to use me, please, just have me. i'm y — ohhh god, oh fuck me, y-yes please — fuck i'm yours!" his words, bound to be a mess now that you've lowered yourself to meet level with his cock.

It throbbed inside you, it looked so pretty, when you imagined sucking on it— with that curve you always felt pressing against your walls when he would be balls deep inside your pussy- just as now.

“Tell me Toru,” you but down in your lips hard, red, “how many times do you think?”

He gulped hard as he watched you move, unable to hold himself as your warmth spread all over his cock, “J-just some- sometimes, when I- I miss you, when I c-can’t get enou- oh god- can’t get enough,”

He moaned softly, head fallen aback and eyes shut close as you rode him slow, rolling your hips—it took your all to just not give in and fuck yourself dunb over his cock.

“In the shower…after- after practice,”

You giggled at his words, oh how you felt like a filthy girl in the moment, “all sweaty and dirty? Think bout fuckin me in shower?”

“Yeah…” his voice lay a rasp, “think bout you when I’m alone,”

Your words, actions—he was dizzy with pleasure, legs squirming beneath you—toes curling in pleasure and hips stuttering as he reeled in for more.

“Think of you when I fuck your daughter too,” and just at that he thrusted harshly into you, gripping your hips as he moved you fast—“you’re too slow,” he grunted.

A low moan escaped you at his words—him too.

Filthy.

Wrong.

You didn’t care.

"d-you think of me too, when- when you can’t touch it? When it- it d-doesn’t feel right?" his question almost sounded innocent, eager to hear your response.

"Course’ i do. think about my pretty boy all the time. i miss this cock so bad sometimes, 'can't get off the same with any of my toys."

He groaned at that—you could feel him twitching inside you.

11:55 p.m.

You weren’t sure when or how you lost all that time- it didn’t matter.

It was your anniversary in 5 minutes and his birthday.

Your hands grabbed his face and pulled him close—your boobs thrusted into his face, “cum with me ok? Hold on just a pretty while yeah?”

Your words were a lullaby to him, he nodded mindlessly, attaching his lips onto your nipples, swiping his tongue over your nipples.

Your soaking cunt engulfed his cock as you bounced upon it, head hung back as you chased your high—his hands kneaded your skin—one pinching your nipples while the other massaged your ass.

If you could, you’d have seen the adoration in his eyes as you fucked your self onto him—breathy moans and shy grunts, the smell of your sex wafted through the air.

Just another minute.

“S-So good to me-” He stutters, nails latching onto your skin to bounce you more aggressively on his cock as his flustered state slowly dissipates.

So close, both of you—a babbling mess underneath you,Satoru was purely pussy drunk—and just like that, the clock strung 12:00 a.m.

You both drew each other’s orgasm.

You stay there on top of him for a second, panting and heaving you both lay—nuzzling as his fingers drew circles on the small of your back.

Circles, you weren’t aware, those circles were actually his name crafted carefully upon your skin for he knew you were finally his.

“You good?”

A slight smile on your face as you asked him, he lay beside you in your bed—“Happy Birthday Toru,”

“Best birthday I’ve had,”

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

— Taglist: @illogicallyx @rizzmin @immurrsed @bbytamaki @abitoldschool

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hisaame · 7 months

Text

— ⧽➻Wanderer with a crush!˒˒ˋˋ

『its how i think wanderer would be id he had a crush,,, and this takes place obviously after he stopped being 'scaramouche'.』

╰ˊˊtw: soft wanderer (help), cursing, wanderers past trauma (kabukimono/kunikuzushi) its just a lil bit tho, spoilers.╎ + its a wanderer x reader type shit, so he falls for you!

He thought it couldn't be possible, but it happened. he was already upset at himself for allowing himself to spend time with you. And with those soft and sweet smiles of yours, he'd almost always looks away—and what you wouldn't notice was his his blushy pink cheeks that would always fade back into his normal pale, color when he'd turn to look back at you, tilting his hat a bit to hide his own smirk.

The guy had even known you when he was once Scaramouche, you'd catch his eye from time to time, but he never really thought about talking to you. Back then he just thought of you as a 'pretty girl', then he'd scoff and turn away. He even wished he'd gotten the chance to have one chat with you before he deletes himself out of existence as Scaramouche. You always seemed to look at him with that cheerful smile. But he's glad he got a chance to befriend you, and now, as a normal person.

He didn't even think puppets could fall in love, nor did he think his porcelain face could turn red! But it began happening more often often the more he hung out with you. Being a wanderer made him not be busy—unlike his past self as Scaramouche who always had things to do. He despised that old part of him, but now he's a changed man alright. He's still vedy cautious and trying his best not to show any vulnerability, he wouldn't wanna remind himself of the rime he was a pathetic, dumb doll who allowed himself to be betrayed.

But he wouldn't let you betray him, no. You're stuck with him.

He didnt exactly understand the concept of „love“. He's seen couples in Sumeru and didn't quite get why they were so affectionate, prepping kisses on eachothers lips and always holding hands. He'd sometimes even cringe at it. Even imagining himself like that with you felt weird... Wait, whys he thinking of it in the first place!?

After finally accepting the fact he's in love after days of trying to convince himself he isn't, he began to think—would you feel the same? That thought made him anxious, if you saw him as only a friend. If he really wanta you, he'd try.

And he did.

He'd go to the library more often, looking for romance books and even looking arouns him to make sure noones looking. He doesnt wanna be caught reading something so embarrassing... He read a few stories, even some tips and tricks on how to flirt, which he found pathetic. Who would wanna say "did it hurt when you fell from heaven" to someone they like? Pathetic! But as he read some romance stories, short and simple, he just couldn't help but imagine how it would be with you... How soft your lips would feel against his, and they way your twos fingers would intertwine.

And then he tried some things out.

He has tried pinning you against a wall, fortunately getting a reaction od you having a small blush, but then brushing it right off and smiling like he didn't do anything. Then he even grabbed your chin between his indec finger and thumb to make u look up at him—and you didn't even have a reaction! Wasn't that something common people did to get people to be flustered!?

He was beyond frustrated, even ended up asking Nahida for some help, to which she happily recommended for him to write you a letter, if he was too scared to say what he wanted it in person. 𝖧𝖾 called it pathetic and stupis, and a waste of time at first, but then he immediately began writing one after.

It took him so many tries, so many crumbled up papers on the ground, to the point Nahida also helped him come up with words to write. At last, finally, he decided to be sneaky and put it in your mailbox, knowing you will be opening it soon. He was a flustered mess as soon as he was rushing away once he put the letter in.

He'll definitely be even more flustered if you tease him about the letter the next day... ♡

#wanderer genshin #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin #scaramouche

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merlinssassybeard · 10 months

Text

'Ex' husband Gojo - The Aftermath- 02

Tags- smut, angst, cheating, TW seizures, bad mental health of reader

Synopsis- The events of the fateful night of Christmas...

The Aftermath- 01 // series masterlist

24th December, 2016

"Hey y/n! Wanna get some drinks on Christmas? If you don't have any plans! Or are you too busy for us 'poor people'! Haha!". Your friends have called and they joked.

You come from a very lower middle class family. Raised by your grandmother and elder sister(by six years) due to your parents being absent.

It was difficult, you grew up watching your grandmother working at an age where she should be enjoying life and your sister when she should be studying. You grew up knowing what's it like to have nothing.

With a decent education, you and your sister started supporting your grandmother with a decent corporate job until your sister got married to her co-worker.

It was just you, helping financially your grandmother with her medical bills while saving up enough for a decent enough wedding dress to follow your sister's path, where you marry an average man like she did, have kids, take care of your children and man and thats it.

An average life.

But you wanted more.

You prayed. Day and night for an extraordinary life, a life memorable and not like your sister's.

You wanted more from life.

And the Gods heard your prayer.

Your whole life changed when you became an essential part of Japan's prolific Aristocratic family.

The news was everywhere. Its a rags to riches, The modern Cinderella story in everyone's eyes.

It was beautiful.

It was memorable, everything you wanted..

Until it wasn't...

"Uh.. yes i am free.", it felt so different, talking to people you worked with after so long. "What's the timing?", you asked.

"25th, 7pm! At the usual place. Also y/n! Could you maybe bring your husband! I mean we would all love to meet Mr Gojo! He's so funny! Only if Mr Gojo is free that is!"

Ah yes. Mr Gojo, the funny, entertaining Mr Gojo. He has met your friends from work enough times to make an image of the grounded but arrogant, funny rich guy.

"Oh! He-he isn't home. He's quite busy. Maybe next time, i will bring him!", you managed as if there will be a next time!

"Oh(disappointed) , nevermind then. Send my regards to Mr Gojo. And you do not forget to come y/n!"

"Yeah".

You wanted to go out, outside and away from this house of memories, with Satoru, that trapped you. You wanted to breath fresh air and move on.

Move on?

How could you move on?

The fact that you were 3 months in your pregnancy after 4 years of marriage. But you failed to carry the child. You failed to maintain the marriage with the person you love. And you're talking about moving on when its just 2 months?

How cruel y/n, how cruel...

25th December, 2016 || 6.45pm

You got dressed up in a simple black turtleneck, jeans, an overcoat and knee high boots with a woolen cap on.

A thick layer of concealer was enough to hide the under eye dark circles. You put on a red lipstick and went out.

The staff stared at you, secretly though, but nonetheless they stared and judged you.

'Is Lady y/n really pregnant?' One said. "She doesn't have a bump though", other quoted. "Come to think of it, her monthly(period) hasn't arrived either. She is pregnant!".

"When's she going to announce?" One servant asked. "Maybe after Lord Satoru arrives?". "Oh! Maybe on the New Year's eve! Seems perfect timing as well.", one replied.

The servants maybe nosy but they know their places. They know, something so sensitive as the pregnancy of the great six eyes sorcerer's wife, its not their place to give the news to the family.

Generally, almost every household's staffs know about anything and everything that goes on in Gojo household. But the word, luckily, doesn't reaches to their employers most of the time.

But this time, it wasn't just some other light news from the Gojo House and the servants of other households started talking to their employers in no time...

It was already past 11.30pm.

Reunion with your office friends and straight up five bottles of your favorite vodka felt so nice that you almost forgot about all and everything that had gone wrong in your life.

You meet up with your co-workers every Christmas for the last 4 years. Sometimes Satoru would company, sometimes he wouldn't.

Talking about politics, sports and who's dating who, both in the office and among celebrities. These were mostly the topics you spent discussing while drinking.

"Hey, its almost going to be 12. I think that's it for the night guys!", one of your girlfriends announced after a slight glance at her silver wrist watch.

"Whaaat?", your speech was slurred and vision blurry after five drinks. "Isss overrr already? Whyyyy? Less get the party started.."

Everyone chuckled. "Ah y/n san had too much to drink! Now we'd have to drop her at her royal palace!", the other girlfriend smiled, a little jealous of your luxurious life.

"Whaaaaat? Less playyy! C'mon ya lot!", you continued babbling frustrated.

"I'll drop y/n. If its okay with everyone."

Out of all the twelve co-workers, one of them stood up and offered to help you reach home.

He knew none are interested in insuring you reach home safely. Everybody was just ignorant and busy to get back home to be on time for work.

He, Kenzo, always have had feelings for you. From the moment you entered the Office to present, when you're married and babbling gibberish while totally drunk.

Everyone agreed to leave you to Kenzo since it was no secret, the feelings he has and someone like him would definitely make sure you reach home safe and secure.

26th December, 2016 || 12.26 am

The group gave their farewells to each other and went on their way.

You, on the other hand, are so drunk that its impossible for you stand up without your legs wobbling and bringing you down.

Kenzo helped you and got you on the passenger seat of his car and started driving towards your 'palace'.

Your head felt heavy with all the drinks you had. You could hear voices in your head, all distorted, words lapsing onto each other.

"You did this y/n!"

"Because of you y/n your baby is dead"

"Satoru will never love you"

"All you've done since marriage is sitting on top of your husband's fortune... living the life you never had"

"Satoru's family....They were right...Everyone was right.."

"You are just a whore"

"Whore for money"

"WHORE"

You let out a scream and started twisting and turning your head and hands to stop all this annoying gibberish in your head. Your eyes closed tight shut.

Kenzo, while driving through almost an empty road, saw this and was absolutely horrified. He thought you're having seizures so he stopped his car in an empty underground parking lot that was luckily near when he saw you.

"Y/n! Y/n! Are you okay?". He grabbed your cheeks to hold you still while his other hand held forcefully onto your shaking arms. "Talk to me y/n. Talk to me!"

"Talk to me y/n"

You heard.

"Talk"

You opened your eyes, slowly letting in the artificial bright lights hit your eyes. Lips trembling. Cheeks red, tears rolling.

You felt a grasp on your cheeks and lowered your gaze to see Kenzo, worried and sweating.

You let out a sigh and without any thoughts hugged Kenzo.

He didn't know what just happened but if hugging him makes you feel better, he's okay with it. He hugged you back. Caressing your back.

All the thoughts had stopped now in your head.

You calmly pulled away from the hug and locked your eyes with Kenzo's.

He is so handsome, same age as you, has beautiful hooded eyes, his nose, his lips.

You gently brought your lips closer to his and he to yours. You both so close but so far. You wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss you.

Your lips brushed upon his and he kissed you. You put your tongue in his mouth and fought for dominance. After a few pants for air, you won, a battle you never won with your husband.

Kenzo pulled back though halfway through. You were puzzled. Didn't he want you? But then you saw him looking at your big blue and white diamond wedding ring.

Oh so thats what it is.

You quickly removed the two rings from your left hand and put the expensive rings onto dashboard. One ring being your wedding band and the other ring was an official platinum-diamond band symbolizing that you are the Gojo Clan head's wife.

In a rush you jumped sat on his lap. Fixating yourself just above his crotch, continuously rubbing your clothed groin over his. You both panted.

You unbuckled your jeans and threw them in the backseat and unzipped Kenzo's pants, about to slide in his member in you. You were so in heat he could see right through you if he'd have to be honest.

He held your wrists and stopped you from doing it...

"Y/n, we shouldn't... its not right... you're married-", he protested with his voice low.

"I decide whats right or not... so shut up and do it already", you growled at him in frustration and just put his cock in your unprepared cunt.

You were finally tainted wholly...

It hurt a lot in the beginning, doing the deed all dry, without any foreplay after so long and after your miscarriage but slowly your body adjusted.

'God! he's so small', you thought to yourself while pushing in Kenzo's 5 inches hard cock in you since for the last over 7 years you've gotten used to Gojo's 8 inches.

This lowly act of yours went on for around 2 hours. Doing it anywhere and everywhere inside the car, in all and every position.

26th December, 2016 || 4.50am

The radio was playing 'Lovely Day' by Bill Withers.

Kenzo was driving you to your house.

You were quiet. He was quiet.

The drive to your uphill estate was easy since it was early morning so the streets were traffic free. He drove his car through the beautiful posh Uphills neighborhood of Tokyo. Your house was almost there.

Each house in this posh area are mindfully distanced to provide full privacy and personal space to the owners. That is why Satoru bought his married house here.

You were looking outside the window with a cigarette between your lips and suddenly your heart skipped a beat, eyes widened, forehead sweating when you saw your husband's black Audi sedan parked in the driveway...

You gulped when the car stopped outside the Gojo Estate's premises.

Door opened, left foot out and you got out. Before entering the gates of your premises, you leaned down a little to look at an equally annoyed Kenzo.

You both didn't share any words or any final looks and he just drove his car as soon as you got off.

He knew what he had done was crossing the line and beyond. It was so unethical to sleep with a married woman, doesn't matter if you were his crush once or not.

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Well technically y/n you are separated and will be divorced soon. So its not cheating. Technically?" Your head convinced you in case when you'd be caught you'll have an argument ready.

You started walking through the cobblestone walkway, a little nervous... Actually, truth be told, you are scared of seeing Satoru. Finding you in your current state at this late hour.

You took one last big puff and then crushed the cigarette with your boots.

You rang the bell once, twice. You started thinking maybe its not Satoru but its Mr Ijichi. Yeah! He's busy anyway.

The door opened just as you were about to ring the third time and all your fears came true...

Satoru Gojo opened the door.

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen @sweet-almond @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0peful @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha @dummyf @Noblog @Littledemoness15 @shaiah @iluv-ace @mmeerraa @angellyah @0bakuzan @waxhers @chanelmalandro @shoutobrainrot @angrydaughter @Screw-aebi@asdfghjkl7things @kodzukenwhore @gabile18 @bollockswhy @pelicanpizza @electro-supremacy @Zatannaswifeblog@spam-and-eggs @guenievresworld @b0scuit@aliventboo @marit332 @ieathairs @hells-escapees @no-name222

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tarjapearce · 27 days

Text

The Immorality Of Love (Pt. 1)

Duke! Miguel O'Hara x Courtesan! Reader.

WARNINGS: Mild angst, power dynamics, emotional distress, sexual tension, No use of Y/N, Mild smut, Oral (M! Receiving), implicit sexual activities. No proofread, Historical innacuracy for the sake of the plot

Summary: More than just directions and simple business.

A/N: ngl, nervous about this, but anyway, hope you enjoy <3. Inspired in the first scene of Pretty Woman <3

Random fact: poverty, insecurity, physical danger, alcoholism, disease and police harassment were just a few of the things that prostitutes around that time were subjected to.

The more papers and seals he went through, the more the need to rip his hair in a rage fit grew. Painfully as the thought was, he'd rather feel that kind of discomfit than keep absorbing the words coming from the other end of the line.

"No, no. It wasn't like that. You know I'm-"

Busy as usual. As ever and probably forever. Something Dana often seemed to forget.

The black and gold metallic tech device rested smooshed against his cheek and shoulders, its cord had tangled underneath his arm, making him fuss through, trying to pry his arm away from it's grasp.

An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as Dana kept complaining.

"Dana, corazón, look-"

His hand rubbed his heavy countenance, awash with so many things he thought his brain would collapse.

"Oh... Okay. Uh... Thanks for your time, ok? I... I had fun. Yeah." He fred himself free from the cord's grasp and put the letters in his free hand on his desk, "I'm sorry. Good luck."

He hung the call as his shoulders slumped with the toll of his stress baggage, that quickly was picked up again as soon as Peter came through the door.

"You're missing your own birthday party, Your grace." Peter loved annoying him with the formal title he strictly forbid him to use.

"My intention precisely."

Peter served him a glass of whiskey and pushed it to him.

"I believe Gabriel won't appreciate this little stunt. You're still working, missing your birthday party-"

"And Dana just dumped me." The chuckle escaping his plump mouth wasn't remorseful, but a relieved one. Peter's brow just quirked and sighed.

"That's perfect then! More reasons for you to just come down and enjoy your own celebration. You're turning Thirty two! Do you know how many people don't make it that far?"

"Are you calling me old?"

"A relic. And grumpy hermit too. Let's go."

Miguel rooted deeper in his seat and Peter's face went blank.

"Are you seriously doing this right now?"

"I just wanna go home for the night, Parker. Drink my new bottle and sleep." He slurred, tiresome.

Peter was about to come up with a quip but Miguel's stomach rumbled.

"Yeah, no, that ain't happening. Move it."

"I am the Duke of Nueva York, Parker. I will not-"

"And I'm your best friend. Move. You gotta eat at least something. Mingle a bit, make the celebration historical by actually remaining for more than an hour, then you can leave."

Miguel's lips twisted in a tired smile, with a resigned heave he gulped down the whiskey and followed Peter downstairs.

-----

As historical as his assistance was, the minutes had stretched incredibly long. His hand reached for his ever trusting golden pocket clock and scowled almost imperceptibly when he noticed the hours. A quarter past nine and his head started to hurt.

In fact, the boisterous mumbles from people had his head spinning. He was already making a fool of himself by faking a laugh to Gabriel's jokes and exchanging pleasantries with people that were only after him for favors or trying to get to know their single female relatives.

But enough was enough when someone begun slurring his words and dripping his drink on the floor. Alcohol became a bit too pungent when he approached the food table, so he turned left, missing some people, quickly nodding a hello here and there, swimming through the sea of unknown people until he reached the main entrance.

His heart dictated it was time to leave, it's powerful hammering resonating within his ribcage. He secured his hat on top of his head and marched towards the carriages.

Damned be his mind if he was to remain another second inside. But damned be his luck for not finding anyone to drove him home.

The door creaked and Gabriel's raucous laugh froze him in the spot.

"Where are you going, Miguel?"

The aforementioned tensed as he approached the carriage with the attached horses.

"Home. Where are the chauffeurs at?"

"Inside, in your party. Told them to take the night off. Go back inside, Migue."

"Ah, cómo chingas. Look... I'm tired, a terrible headache, got job to do and I can smell the whiskey from here on you. "

"You're the only person I know that hides from his own birthday."

Miguel hopped in the front seats of the carriage, the structure creaked and dipped under his weight as the horses tapped the grassy floor. Gabriel's mirthful laugh only deepened the scowl on his already tired face as he mimicked his eldest brother.

"And if I can recall you still fear horses, Miguelito."

"Cállate." He grumbled while securing his clock in his pocket, "Don't get too drunk, I've got enough complains of you to discuss with the king."

If none was to drive him back home, he'd make do. Even if the horses held a secret grudge on him. But if this was what it took to get out and be free to have his own personal celebration in his room, then so be it.

"Ajá. Ya, vete pues." (Right, go on now.)

The younger O'Hara chided as he watched his brother ready to depart. This gave him an idea.

Miguel fixed his hat again and took a hold of the reins. Gabriel approached, sauntering towards the horses and your grace's unsuspecting being.

"I forgot. Happy Birthday, brother of mine."

Miguel's eyes widened as Gabriel slapped the horse's rear, igniting their angry galloping, taking a cursing Duke away from him.

"Cabrón!-"

-----

For how long had he been wandering the streets? He recognized some avenues and milieu, but a wrong turn had taken him to a relatively unknown area.

Although the buildings kept their refined air, the washed up and cracked walls started making an impromptu appearance in his line of vision. A couple of people stared his way to quickly scramble back into whatever business they thought better to attend.

Even the floor and smells had changed. The duke couldn't help but grumble as the stony and jagged texture of the floor made his carriage to bump and shake erratically. There was no smoothness to make the steering steady, the floral and occasional bakery smell was quickly replaced by the smell of opium, industrial filth and other unpleasant odors.

He didn't know what was worse, to admit to none but himself that he was lost, since his daily route was his manor, the king's palace and the office of his empire. Or the random smells that fought for a spot in his nose, pouncing on his senses.

His discomfort grew the more he ventured into the changing scenarios. But it also gave him a glimpse of those he was assigned by the king to protect and watch over.

Little were the things that managed to surprise him greatly, but seeing the scenery pass and turn into a more rundown, less fancy and acquainted place, got his skin crawling softly under the linens of his warm frock coat.

Even a man of his calibre knew to not tempt fate and with a whip on the reins, the horses galloped faster, wherever it was better than this part of the city he didn't know.

As spoiled as the thought was, he really hated not having his chauffer at his immediate disposition. He wouldn't have to deal with these situations, he wouldn't have to feel like a lost pampered puppy that escaped his guarded home, only to be out there by his own in the cold and unforgiving night streets.

Even the horses refused to keep going forward to a much more secluded and darker area, guarded by the slithering shadows that would play games with his mind if he stared long enough.

A breath hitched on his throat as the horses turned left and took the opposite road, away from the lurking danger. To his luck and awestruck, the horses indeed knew the route and guided him to an area that, although he had seen a couple of times, it ended up in a familiar environment.

The boutiques and coffee shops started to take shape as the galloping kept going through the enlightened stony and steady path. The wheels creaked merrily upon being on familiar territory again.

The crawl on his skin stopped only to be replaced by a sudden gasp when the horses stood in their hind legs as a stray cat crossed their paths out of nowhere, scaring them. Miguel barely could take a hold of the reins, as the horses pulled and his back collided against the hard wood of the carriage.

"B-Basta!" He huffed nervously while he held his hat as the other hand secured the grip on the leather ropes, trying to stop the horses, but they kept running, as if the black tiny monster with beady eyes chased after them.

"Shit!"

The carriage turned into to a bustling area and suddenly halted into a corner, Miguel bounced hard in his seat as the transport parked forcefully above the sidewalk, earning a frightful gasp and murmurs from the people around.

Without much thought he stepped off the carriage and released a breath he didn't know it had been stuck in his tightened throat for a while.

"Condenado gato, asustándome así." His nostrils flared with a heavy sigh, as his hands scrambled underneath the seat to see if he could find anything remotely helpful to guide himself back to his manor. (Fucking cat, scaring me like that)

Miguel nearly slapped himself upon finding a neatly folded map in the further corner of the seat. A hand passed over his impatient face before unfolding it and taking a good scrutinizing look in it. None of the names sounded familiar for him, not even the post with the signal Maxwell's Avenue before him rang a bell into his befuddled head.

Where was he?

The soft clicks of a pair of heels behind him made to look at the lady behind him.

"Are you alright, my lord?"

Even though her voice was sweet with sultry undertones in it, Miguel could recognize almost immediately her profession. A courtesan. A fancy and less crude word for a prostitute, whose soft and floral aroma tickled his senses.

"I'm not interested."

----

Upon hearing those words your brow quirked and stared at him for couple of seconds. He was definitely a nobleman, the tallest and most build up man you've seen so far, His frock coat and the golden chain attached to his chest where his clock was, said everything you needed.

A potential client. Although reluctant.

He could redefine the word handsome if someone took a proper look into his face. Sharp features that were as strong as his nose and angry looking eyes. Lips twitched with contained fury the more he stared at the map on his trembling hands.

Your attention wandered to said piece of paper only to let out a humored scoff. Brown eyes snapped your way immediately upon the noise.

"You're holding the map backwards, my lord. Bid you a goodnight."

You turned around and walked back but his voice calling you with a 'Wait' made your lips stretch into a thin yet knowing smile.

"Yes?", wispy eyelashes fluttered with each blink you gave him.

The man cleared his throat and inched the map closer to you.

"Where am I?"

"Where do you need to go?"

His eye twitched almost involuntarily at your reply, but if he wanted to go home, at this point any help would come in handy.

"Babylon-"

The horses tapped the floor a bit more impatiently as they shook their mane. His hands tightened in balls in each side of him.

"Babylon manor."

Your brows puckered in as he kept turning and turning the map.

"I could take you there, if you wish to."

"No. I just need-"

The horse's forceful neigh made Miguel to clutch his hands tighter, nearly digging his nails in his palms.

"Shut up!"

He roared at the beast that only blew an annoyed sigh his way. Earning a giggle from you.

"You're making the horses and me nervous, my lord."

A heavy and blasé heave came from his nostrils, folding the map in a haste. Mirth crossed your features on his distress.

"Glad that at least I'm amusing you."

"Although, that's my job, my offer to take you there for a little fee, of course, remains."

With little to lose and patience he gestured you towards the carriage. With a proud smile you gave him a little curtsey and stepped on the same spot as he was sitting instead of the inside of the carriage.

His bushy brow quirked at your choice of seat but little he could do about it. You pulled a fan and blew yourself with it as your eyes studied every movement.

Reins a bit too tight on his heavy looking hands, frame so frigid and mechanic you thought he'd break upon sitting next to you, swallowing the space with his sheer size. Lips and brows puckered in an apparent permanent frown and his gorgeous eyes that hid a crimson glint in it, if you dared to look closer.

He whipped the ropes and the horses walked on with a pull that had you clutching to your seat. Fear however begun growing after the speed of their trotting increased, passing and turning blocks in a blink of an eye.

"Stop them!"

"I'm trying woman!" He hissed, more nervous than angered.

Without much thought you took the leather ropes from him and pulled back with all your might. If it wasn't for him placing an arm before you, your body would have lurched forward and off the carriage.

"My goodness..."

Both of your chests rose upon the short and quivering breaths your lungs exhaled

"Are you alright?"

You gave him a shaky nod, while your hand loosened the grip on the horse's command. In truth, Miguel's bile had rose up his throat. For a moment he really thought he'd lose control of the carriage and his name would be in the morning newspaper with the title 'The Duke crashed cause he's unable to drive by himself properly due an irrational equine fear."

"I should ask you that, my lord. You're paling."

But he didn't crashed nor would appear in the news, thanks to you.

"Should I take the lead?"

"You know how to ride?"

"That and more, yes. Though I rather the term drive" His brows crinkled upwards at your reply, taken aback by your quip, earning him another chuckle from you, "But I know enough to get my way around horses without being nipped or kicked."

Your hand caressed the neck and mane, in an attempt to soothe the beast's nerves. Curiosity tugged at his seams. A courtesan that knew how to drive.

Times change I suppose.

His mind mused, and his hands rested on his hips, without much thought he mumbled: "Be my guest, then."

"Hop in then, sir."

You got into the carriage front seat and patted the space next to you. He obeyed.

----

Against all odds, you took him home. Ride back happened smoothly without the horses trying to kill him, they obeyed without a hitch under your command. A clear screw you from the annoying beasts that made him look like an utter useless fool.

Once close enough, you gave him the reins back to him and got down the carriage before his staff approached, leaving his hand on the air while trying to help you to get down.

He followed and straightened his coat and hat.

"Safe and sound, aren't we?"

He nodded as your eyes locked on each other briefly before a valet took the horses away.

"Then, I'll be happy to receive my payment and leave you be, my lord."

The payment, of course.

"Right. And what is this fee of yours for helping a stranger?"

"You say so like I'm robbing you." he chuckled, "I'm sure twenty crowns won't make you less rich."

"They won't." He searched inside his vest and pulled out a 20 bill from his wallet.

"A pleasure to help you, sir."

You bowed to him with a satisfied smile and gathered your skirt.

"Just a quick thing, don't whip the horses too hard. They hate it."

"Noted." he nodded before approaching the door, "Be careful out there."

"Appreciate your concern, my lord. Bid you a good night."

With a final curtsey you turned around and walked towards the corner. Some of his staffs threw discreet glances your way others swarmed Miguel with their attention as usual.

The street had slowly turned less concurred as the night kept advancing, and too bad you had forgotten your pocket watch at home. Walking was always good for the health, but at this hour alone, you rather not poke at the devil's tail to see what he had in store for you.

Miguel watched you for a second, Securing the shawl on your shoulders, an ethereal soft gleam on your skin provoked by the post lamp nearby was quickly covered as you straightened your back, enhancing the sight of your mounds for a moment.

He blinked away the glimpses of your beauty to finally gather his thoughts and walk inside. Not that he was strange to courtesans, Gabriel had once arranged himself a night with a couple, only to be ditched as soon as they laid their eyes on him.

His frock coat and hat were quickly taken away to be hung. He ordered his new bottle of mezcal while his hands pulled and rolled up at the wrist of his sleeves up to his elbows.

His ears perked up upon hearing some jeering comments from a man outside. His steps guided him back towards he just came from. To jis little surprise there was a drunk man, barely supporting on the walls as he spoke your way.

"Kindly, fuck off you twat"

Miguel chuckled at your sharp and dirty mouthed reply to the man that quickly thought his words upon catching him peeking out of the main entrance. The Duke truly thought you had already walked away.

With half wobbly steps the man left as you shot an apprehensive yet grateful look his way.

"Thanks."

His head bobbed in a brief nod, and slowly approached you again.

"Waiting for someone?"

"Maybe. Do you know them perhaps?"

Miguel quirked his brow with a bit of confusion. You sighed.

"My apologies, drunkards get me on edge. And I am waiting for a carriage to take me back to my district. Don't wanna risk myself at this hours into unknown territory."

He crossed his arms.

"Where do you head to?"

"Doubt you'd like to know that, sir."

Your eyes were keen in the horizon, but no carriage or known face approached.

"Time seems to be a problem for you."

"I'm working. Gotta make the most out it. But since this a new territory and I've seen nothing but empty streets, I'll go back."

A Hmm came out of him while he stood next to you.

"Alright, then how much for a night?"

You blinked while facing him, "Pardon me?"

"You're still... working, right?"

You nodded.

"Then, how much for the night?"

As unexpected as his question was, the words that flew out of your mouth surprised you even more.

"300 crowns." you blurted.

He pursed his lips in a pondering movement, then nodded.

"Alright. Let's get you inside."

In truth the quantity was just a coy to see if he bit the bait, and it was double the amount you needed to get that lovely perfume you so needed. But money was money.

"As you wish, my lord."

You didn't imagine he'd actually agree. But now that he had, you followed him inside. However, he told you to wait before disappearing for a moment, only to return with a coat and drape it around your shoulders.

"What is this?"

"A coat" Your face went blank, "It'll save us some trouble."

Once again your feet resumed their walking inside, and for a minute, you wished to have eidetic memory to remember everything, so you could print it all out and have a proof of the place's exquisite grandeur, and for Aveline to see this with her own beautiful blue eyes.

She always boasted with descriptions you'd only find in the many magazines Avy managed to steal from their unsuspected client's homes. But now, you were in one of them, walking up the marbled stairs that were dressed up in a shade of velvet that could be mistaken for a rivulet of blood rolling down under your feet.

But there was not that coppery smell flooding your nose, no. Au contraire, the place smelled like it was doused in a gentle breeze of vanilla, an appalling contrast to the lavender incense you were used to at this point.

It blended well with the delicate floral aroma oozing from your pores. A couple of staff members dallied around, interrupting with their greetings towards Miguel, some spared a glance your way and of course murmurs ensued. But it didn't matter, you were getting your new perfume and possibly a couple of brand new accessories for all you cared.

The room, the master bedroom you supposed, was as beautiful as the rest. Majestic and powerful like it's owner.

A few little statues here and there adorned his room, the smell of vanilla and a tinge of a liqueur you had never smelled before filled in your lungs pleasantly.

He went straight to his desk after closing the door behind him.

"May I remove this now?"

His hands rummaged through the haphazard stacked up papers while you removed and hung up the coat somewhere, not really waiting for his reply.

Your eyes still wandered around as you sauntered over his desk.

"With a place like this, I'd be gladly turn into a hermit. Are you by chance an undercover prince?"

Miguel chuckled and pulled out his pen while sitting properly on his throne

"Close. But no. I'm the Duke."

Your brows rose in surprise but quickly vanished into an amused smirk as soon as he started removing his vest and fiddled with the tie around his neck.

The knot tightened the more he struggled with it. You stepped closer and slid your hands briefly on his chest to have a good feel of him.

Solid, well worked, and a hundred percent real. Your fingers hooked in the tie and pulled him gently towards you.

His lips parted to then swallow an invisible lump at the action alone. Dexterous hands quickly managed to untie the tangled fabric around his too dressed up neck, freeing him from his temporary torment. His perfume was another smell to add to the wondrous list you discovered tonight.

Woody, a hint of cinnamon and a fine vanilla tobacco.

"Didn't know the Duke of Nueva York was afraid of horses."

He grunted and rolled his eyes.

"I'd rather not discuss that."

You chuckled while fetching your small hand purse. You pulled out a piece of hardened paper sealed and signed by a doctor, and placed it before him.

His eyes gazed at it curiously, to then widen softly at the different array of condoms you pulled from the sides of your boots to then seat on his desk.

"You might pick one after you've read my medical checks."

"Quite the safety buffet you have there."

Your shoulders shrugged, "You never know with royalty and I like to be safe."

He nodded with a tiny smile as everything was in order, the card had nothing but a couple of days old. Madame Lewis always insisted in doing regular checkups, and it paid off. You had learned how to recognize the symptoms of some popular diseases by now. Knowledge was sure a powerful tool.

He eyed the condoms and released a brief and deep chuckle. Upon silence you put them back in your purse and faced him once more with a sultry smile. Your spine slanted enough towards him to give him a better look of your mounds.

He wasn't immune towards a lady's charms. Your eyes caught his taking a quick peek.

"So... what now? What will you have me doing?"

"I don't know." his cheek rested against his knuckles and stared your form, even though a courtesan, your taste in fashion was refined and by the quality materials of your clothings, he assumed you were a middle class paramour, "I didn't plan on this, if honest."

"Oh? I see." Your eyes darted through the many papers in his desk, "You do seem the type to plan it all though."

"Of course, someone has to. Excuse my maners, but I forgot your name completely."

A smirk came to your rouged lips,

"How can you forget something that has never been given to you, my lord?"

His nostrils heaved merrily upon your comment while his head nodded approvingly.

"Touché."

You scoffed, "Violet."

"Violet what?"

"Just plain Violet. Yours?"

It was his turn to scoff in disbelief. Were you living under a rock?

"I apologize but, I refuse to believe you don't know my name yet."

It was your turn to laugh, "I'm sorry but, even if my clients won't shut about politics and royalty , I still don't know your name, your grace. It always escapes the confinements of my mind."

His eyes wandered a bit over your face, but quickly averted them, to focus on the flirty frills of your dress. You knew exactly where to flaunt and where to leave it au naturale. He'd be a liar to not say you were one of the prettiest courtesans he had seen so far. He had them twice in his life, and with this a third.

"It's Miguel."

"Oh," you tested his name in your tongue, it tingled with excitement, "I suppose it suits you."

"Does it?"

Miguel stood and served two glasses of mezcal, his hand offered you one. He approached the door and called for an assortment of fruits and other light snacks, then returned to his seat.

"I've never met a Duke named Miguel before. But it sounds... almost delicious to say so."

"Delicious?" He drank his shot in a go, a pleasant growl escaped after the liqueur burned good in his throat.

"Pleasant even." You followed into drinking your shot, face souring for a moment. His tongue swept over his lips, tasting the remnants of mezcal on them.

His gaze turned bolder with the passing of seconds, staring intermittently at your chest, face and neck.

After a couple of minutes a maid knocked, interrupting his line of thoughts and put the tray on a nearby table, gave a curtsey and left you alone again.

"How would you rate my performance as a Duke?"

The question as unexpected and random as it was, escaped his mouth. He was still into work mode and clearly not used to have company. It threw you off for a second.

Your brows rose in disbelief and amusement, "I assure you, that you won't like the answers, your grace."

That's when his shoulders shook with a brief yet genuine titter.

"That bad, huh?"

You shrugged while placing the glass in the table to lean his way, pushing your breasts to a more open sight. Inviting him in.

"Yes. But you aren't paying me to talk about work. Are you?"

"What if I am?" He slouched even more comfortably on his seat.

"Then I believe one bottle of this" You pointed at the mezcal, "won't be enough for neither of us."

-----

The clock had ticked eleven pm, conversation soon branched into different topics, from the ridiculous names some clothes were called, to a bit of surface personal information.

"How old are you turning, my lord?"

You popped a green grape into your mouth as he downed another glass if mezcal. The outer corset had been long gone, same as pretension and the accessories on your hair.

Even though still reserved, his whole demeanor had allowed itself to relax. He ate what he couldn't back at his own party and the mezcal bottle had decreased it's contents.

"Thirty two. Why?"

"Just curious. It has come to my attention that the Duke of Nueva York isn't a wrinkly old man. I'm quite surprised, if honest."

"I will be one in a couple of decades. That if work doesn't kills me first."

He had to order another platter of charcuterie since the first one was entirely devoured by him.

"It won't. You seem too stubborn for it."

He chuckled, "You're none to talk about being stubborn."

You scoffed, faking offense, "I call it perseverance, and at least I know how to manipulate a map, my lord."

He didn't know if it was the alcohol slowly turning up his senses or your company that against all odds, had been one of the few things memorable for the night. He had lit up the fire to warm the room.

"The map was outdated." he grumbled without actual anger behind it.

You just nodded with a playful smile while sitting before the fireplace to get a bit of warm. He remained sat on his chair, legs comfortably sprawled open on top.

"Of course it was, your grace, I hope it'll be updated soon so you don't get lost again."

The soft cracks of the wood reigned over the sudden silence. The fire's auriferous gleam bathed your silhouette, investing an ironically beatific sight on you.

"Hopefully not. I won't have the luck to count on your help, I'm afraid."

Your shoulders twinkled with the fire's light as they accompanied your sweet laugh and his eyes closed for a moment.

The day had been quite the feat, but before all of it played as a movie in his head and his mind recurred to the internal and ever pondering monologue, the warm touch of your hands in his thighs grounded him immediately to the present.

Right in the moment where your bare fingers roamed the territory of his clothed legs and hips.

"How are you able to keep this... physical condition?" your hands gave a brief and marveling squeeze and a twitch traveled all over his body.

"Hard work." He heaved when you stopped to rise on your feet, eyes glinting upon confirming he was looking.

Slowly, your fingers danced above your chest to then drag them through the fabric ans reach for the back buttons of your dress with expertise, freeing yourself from the inhibition with each unclasp, to finally remove the first layer.

"I see. It has paid off, I admit."

His lips curved proudly to quickly and subtly licks his lips.

His pupils were blown open when his unabashed stare darted from your mouth to the peeking taut nipples that pushed against the see-through fabric of your chemise, begging to be released.

Lovely, generous and perfect size for his hand.

If his demeanor wasn't trained for self-control, he'd definitely look like a precocious youngster, unable to talk because a woman was getting naked before him.

The right side of his head rested on his index and middle finger, his thumb rubbed in circles in the juncture of his jaw. Watching and enjoying the parsimonious and erotic dance your hands did to remove your skirt, revealing nothing but the long, sheer cream colored chemise that left everything yet little to his growing volatile imagination.

The bustier only donned your waist with a perfect dip to accentuate your also generous hips. His hands would undoubtedly fit perfectly in that curve.

Hid eyes darted to his hands but immediately resumed to your show to not miss anything important. Meaning everything. The lack of underwear in your body stirred up the crawling in his skin.

A calculated turn and bend to reach for your shoes gave him a proper display of what laid under the little remnants of clothes still clinging to you. Purposely torturing his psyche with the corruption of mind and thoughts.

How would you feel like in his hands?

Nothing but smooth and lovely skin. The stockings embraced your supple thighs in a way that for a brief fraction of time, he wished to be the elastic band around them.

He didn't know who to blame for his sudden flustered and urgent state. He could blame the top quality mezcal for making his skin thrum and burn with enough heat to turn it highly receptive to external stimuli.

Your shoes were removed, and soon your hands, deftly undid your bustier.

Or the lack of physical and willing altercation in his lavish bed eons ago.

Or you, for actually entertain him with more than he had originally thought.

Not even he was so sure about his tiredness anymore. Not when you prowled your way towards him, hips swaying in a sultry motion, breast bouncing softly at each step.

His breath hitched when the chemise was gone and you kneeled between his thighs. Dainty fingers unbuckling and undoing his belt and trousers single-handed and deftly. Nothing but the stockings adorned your form.

"As much as I'd love to keep talking," the inner flesh of his bottom lip was trapped in between his teeth as your warm and soft hand ventured within his trousers and grazed the velvet skin of his still trapped erection, "I also believe money must be earned properly."

Damn him for being such a primitive man to surrender so quickly under your touch. For purposely starving his body from the sensations he was going through at the moment.

Damn you for stroking his ego when your countenance lit up in surprise upon watching his cock springing alive in it's full and healthy glory a few inches away your face.

He shrugged nonchalantly and his eyes glued on your next movement

"Consider yourself lucky, my lord. I usually do not engage into the arts of oral pleasures," Your hand took a gentle yet firm hold of him, stroking enough to make him release a pleasurable yet quiet moan, "I'll make an exception for the night though, you're to be celebrated after all."

He gulped a blown breath before it could escape as you marked his skin with soft kisses until you reached his flushed tip.

"Happy Birthday, your grace."

And, oh damned you for taking the challenge between your lips and remind him how much of a man he was.

---

The bird's chirping was louder the more seconds ticked, but it was enough to finally ground consciousness to your body.

You bolted awake. Fear seeped in upon not recognizing instantly your surroundings, but when the bell rang with the memory, the urge to leave increased tenfold.

As heavenly as the bedsheets felt against your skin, you flinched from them and gathered your things, but hips protested. Despite having the experience, none had prepared you for taking The Duke.

A man that was currently missing and out of the rooms sight. The curtains were draped in enough to block the sun's glory to hit you right in the face. You changed as hastily as you could. After all his bed was behind closed doors.

Shit

Even though the walk of shame was unavoidable the least you could do was to look the least tussled as possible. Once you were dressed you searched in your purse, a couple less condoms in your repertoire, to finally reach for the tooth powder and clean your teeth.

One of the many important rules you had self imposed in your licentious life had been broken.

Do not overstay.

As it could only bring nothing but trouble your way. You didn't want a lover, much less to engage into a life that only happened to good and obeying women.

And you weren't good, according to none but your own musings, nor obedient. You secured your shoes and straightened up your posture as you draped your shawl over your shoulders that still tingled with the Duke's capricious hands.

Miguel had been a gentleman, he never once did something you didn't feel comfortable with, yet still, his pleasure was the main focus of everything. It wasn't personal, nor intimate, just plain old business, like you always made it.

You found him reading the newspaper on his desk, a cup of steaming coffee next to him along some other foods that without admitting made your mouth salivate.

His eyes rose to meet you

"Good morning."

"Morning. I overslept, my apologies, sir."

You bowed your head and he sipped his cup.

"It's fine. I didn't know what would you like, so, got you a bit of everything."

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously with a frown at both the food and him. A bit of crumbs of a round sweet bread still remained on the corner of his lips.

"I appreciate your... attentions, my lord. But I'm good and I've got to go."

His body was dressed up in a light vest, his shirt rolled up yo his elbows and pants, ready for another day of work.

"Of course."

He stared at your concern for a couple of seconds before standing up and reaching for his wallet.

He pulled a couple of hundred crown bills and placed it before you. The sooner you got paid, the sooner you'd get home, take a long bath and finally go get that perfume before sleeping properly the day away.

Your hands counted it in, and your frown furrowed upon finding two hundred extra.

"Your grace? Here." You placed the bills on the table where he could see them, "You put some more by mistake."

"Oh, no, it wasn't. They're, uh... they're yours. A gift."

His lips curved softly in a small smile that quickly vanished upon your next words.

"A gift for doing what you hired me for?"

Miguel blinked, "I didn't mean it that way. It's an extra for-"

You didn't know if nervousness or anger was coursing through your veins, but it was unpleasant and you needed it out of your system.

"Let's get something clear, your grace. I'm aware my job is anything but reputable. But I do not take charity nor pity from anyone. Much less royalty."

He gulped, genuinely confused and taken aback from your reaction.

"I-I apologize. thought that you-"

"That I'd accept it? No. you're sadly mistaken. I know life circumstances have pushed me to choose this path of living, but do not dare insult me. Do not mistake my work for affection you can buy."

You left the money on the table and rushed to the door.

"Wait! Violet!"

by the time he reached this bedroom doors, you were already descending the stairs, head high and proud despite the unbelieving and horrified expressions by the staff at your haste to finally leave.

His shoulders slumped with a dragging groan as he remained on the doorframe of his room.

"That's not what I meant at all..."

A misunderstanding with a courtesan was the perfect way to start his day. Gabriel had mentioned him a couple of times to never give extra money to the professional entertainers, selfless kindness wasn't a concept in their life's vocabulary and it could be often mistaken as something else.

Like what just happened.

"Gooddamit."

But there was little to do about it and his mind dragged him out of it to pull him on the working mode again.

----

In his many years of friendship, it was rare when Peter behaved evasive, and fiddled with his hands a bit too much. His friend's pacing over his office had Miguel dizzy.

"Can you stay the hell still and spit it out at once?"

Miguel's terse voice only provoked an annoyed groan on Peter.

"You..." Parker's nostrils flared up with a plucky sigh and faced him.

"The Prince is organizing a little vacation to his villa. He wants us there."

A bushy brow from the Duke raised to then roll his eyes and resuming his work into signing papers and reading reports.

"And?"

"W-What do you mean and? You know whose going?"

"Not really, nor care. I won't go."

Peter's teeth 'tsk'ed' at his reply. "You are to be there. The Prince invited you specifically, and you know how Osborn gets when you ignore his whims."

"Yeah, no wonder why his father doesn't trusts him with Nueva York and I have to correct his stupidities."

Miguel slicked a hand ovef his hair to accommodate the straying strands off their order.

"Right. You have to call Dana."

"She dumped me on my birthday and she's too far, remember?"

"Well, you'll need someone to go with. Everyone is tired of seeing you alone and sulking during those reunions."

"I've got-"

Peter interrupted, knowing his words at this point. "Priorities, I know. Want me to find you someone?"

"Appreciated but no. I already have someone in mind."

Peter blinked and immediately sat before him

"You do?"

"Yes. Where is Gabriel?"

"Traveling outside the city. He'll join us in the trip later"

"Ese cabrón siempre evadiendo responsabilidades... Let me know when returns." (That fucker's always avoiding his duties.)

"Do I know her?" Peter clasped his hands before him, trying to pry more information out straight from the horse's mouth.

"No, which is good and bad."

"You need to start speaking sense, Miguel."

"It's good cause none around here knows her, and bad precisely for that. But since you're eager to help me, you'll do exactly that."

He handed Peter a small paper piece with a name.

"Violet? What's with this?"

"It's the name. Give it to Lyla. She'll look her up. Need an address by the end of this week. Tell her to look up in the neighbor districts.

"What if-"

"There's no what ifs in here, Parker. Split the search."

"So this means you're coming?"

"If I say yes, will you shut up?"

"Say no more. I'll look for this Violet to you."

"If you find her do not approach her. Let that to me."

Peter didn't know whether to be excited or scared. But he trusted Miguel.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder, what had happened the previous night? Even better yet, who was this Violet?

-----

Taglist:

@kate-ohara @del-ightfulling

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #the immorality of love

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