#does this still count as a late valentine gift | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kepamount · 1 year

Text

clueless

mason mount x reader one shot - fake dating, smut and fluff

warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, virgin reader, first time sex, dom!mason and sub!reader, dirty talk, praise and degradation, body worship, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, overstimulation, I think that's it but pls lmk if I missed anything!

word count: 18.1k+ (she's a mammoth, ofc)

a/n: this is unedited and it’s also 2 different wips mashed together so pls forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies, i’ll edit this tomorrow! happy valentine's day! ik i've been very quiet recently but i'm gifting you guys with this to make up for it! the buildup is very long but the smut is hopefully worth it lol, it's very soft by my usual standard but i think you guys will still like it! lmk what you think <3

‘You’re late,’ I say as I open the front door, not bothering to welcome him in before I turn and head back into the kitchen, his amused chuckling making me roll my eyes. I continue with the washing up, hearing him shut the front door and enter the kitchen a few moments later.

‘You’re late too. I said to be ready for half past. It’s quarter to and you’re still washing up,’ he points out, helping himself to a cookie from the jar on the counter before sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. ‘I only started washing up because you weren’t here yet. What do you expect me to do? Sit by the door waiting for you?’ I ask without looking at him, washing the dishes with vigour to get my irritation out. ‘Yeah. That’s exactly what I expect,’ he responds, smirk audible in his voice, and I look over my shoulder to shoot him a death stare, looking at him properly for the first time.

Annoyingly, he looks as handsome as he always does, dressed in a pair of baby blue joggers and a white t-shirt with some obscure designer logo on it. His beard is at the perfect length, and so is his hair, fluffy and soft-looking. His skin is just about holding onto its tan from the World Cup and he looks like he’s been spending a lot of time in the gym, clothes tighter around his muscles than they used to be.

‘Can we go? As nice as the view is from here, I don’t want to spend my day off watching you wash up,’ he says impatiently, his demand annoying me so much that I almost don’t notice the comment on my ass. ‘Maybe if you hadn’t been late,’ I say irritably, rinsing off the last dish before washing my hands and drying them, the boy eating another cookie.

‘Stop eating all my cookies,’ I snap, so close to snatching it out of his hand, and he rolls his eyes before finishing it off. ‘I’ll buy you more.’ ‘I made them myself.’ ‘Oh, so that’s why they taste like shit then,’ he grins, and I take a deep breath to compose myself, heading towards the front door before I put his head through my kitchen wall.

I sit down on the bottom step of the staircase to put my boots on, doing up the zip slowly so I don’t catch my socks in it (it’s happened one too many times, and I’m sick of having holey socks). I’m wearing an outfit inspired by Clueless – a white bodycon ribbed dress with a thin pink cardigan over the top of it, and white knee high boots that add a couple extra inches to my height.

I check my reflection in the mirror beside the front door, Mason leaning against the doorframe and inspecting his nails in a way that indicates how bored he is waiting for me, and I make sure my phone, keys, lipgloss and powder are all in my little white Hermes Kelly bag before I turn to face him.

‘Ready?’ Mason asks, not waiting for an answer before he opens the door and walks out. Chivalry is dead. I lock up behind us, the boy already sat in the car by the time I head down the patio steps, and I’m surprised when he at least has the courtesy to push open the passenger side door for me. The kindness of the gesture is lost when the door hits me and nearly knocks me over, Mason laughing uncontrollably as I scowl at him.

I climb into the car, shutting the door behind me before adjusting the seat to my liking. He starts the engine, racing out of my driveway as I connecting my phone with Bluetooth to the car. He doesn’t say anything but his pursed lips say everything for him – he’s always complaining about my passenger-princess tendencies. I shuffle my Summer Walker playlist, Mason groaning when the opening notes of ‘Tonight’ start playing out of the speakers on either side of us. He skips it, but when he realises the next song’s Summer as well, he doesn’t bother trying to turn it off, letting me skip it back to the last song.

‘All you listen to is RnB. Doesn’t it get boring?’ he grumbles as I sing along obnoxiously loud, flexing my vocals by acing Summer’s runs. ‘Better than the music you listen to.’ ‘I listen to music by people that you’re friends with.’ ‘That’s beside the point. They might be my friends but I can acknowledge that their music is not good.’ ‘It’s not a flex to have no taste.’

‘I know you, a footballer, are not trying to tell me, a singer-songwriter, about music taste. I don’t try and tell you about… football stuff,’ I say pointedly, and he shoots me a side-eye. ‘Because you haven’t got a clue about football.’ ‘Neither do you but I don’t say shit,’ I say sweetly, getting a half-hearted dirty look in response.

‘What are we doing today?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘You haven’t planned anything?’ I ask jokingly, and he doesn’t even dignify it with a response, both of us knowing fully well that I always plan our dates. ‘It’s Valentine’s next week. You have to plan that at least,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes at the reminder. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I’m sick of always planning our dates! You’re the boy. You should take responsibility for date planning, not me.’ ‘How feminist of you,’ he says sarcastically, and I scoff. ‘Feminism’s about choice, and I choose to be treated like a princess by my boyfriend.’ ‘Maybe you should find a real boyfriend instead then,’ he says dryly, and I let out an irritated huff.

Mason is my fake boyfriend – our agents work for the same company and thought it would be mutually beneficial for us to be in a PR relationship. For me, they thought dating Chelsea and England’s starboy would only boost me to higher levels of fame and introduce me and my music to an entirely new audience, and they were right – I never thought I’d have Chelsea fans asking me for photos outside Stamford Bridge before matches.

Mason, however, is getting a lot more out of this than I am. In the last year or so, he’s been getting a bit of a negative reputation – being pictured with influencer girlies, hanging with the wrong crowd, getting drunk a bit too often, not to mention the dip in his form on the pitch. His agent decided to find him a good, clean-cut girlfriend who would lead him back onto the straight and narrow, as well as help to change the minds of Chelsea fans who think he’s a lazy waste of space.

My reputation is perfect to improve Mason’s. I’ve never been involved in any kind of controversy and I’m always on my best behaviour when I’m out in public. On top of that, I went on a friend’s podcast about a year ago, and when the conversation turned to NDAs and celebrity flings, I confessed that I’ve never dated and I’m a virgin. All of a sudden, I became the nation’s sweet, pure and innocent sweetheart. I hate to benefit from the patriarchy but my virginal status has made me a supposed ‘good role model’ for the young girls of today, so my fanbase has increased drastically.

‘Maybe I will. Then you can kiss your improved reputation goodbye.’ ‘More than I can do to you. Maybe then I can find a less boring fake girlfriend. Someone who’s actually been touched by a man before,’ he says pointedly, bringing up the contract I made him sign despite his reluctance for the thousandth time.

Mason and I actually knew each other before this whole thing started – we ran in the same social circles, and we always got along relatively well. But, as soon as I laid out the rules about what he could and couldn’t do with me, things quickly went sour in our relationship.

Because the entire world thinks he’s dating me, he’s not allowed to flirt/date/kiss/sleep with any other girls – it would only tarnish his reputation even more if it got out, defeating the point of this relationship. I assume he thought I’d sleep with him (so that he’d still be getting some), so he didn’t take it well at all when I told him I didn’t even want him to kiss me, let alone sleep with me.

He thought I was being unreasonable, and that no one would believe we were together if there wasn’t any PDA, but I thought it was perfectly reasonable that I didn’t want to waste all my firsts on a fake boyfriend– I just about allowed him to hold my hand or put his hand on my lower back (not too low though). As time’s gone on, we’ve been getting along less and bickering more, so now he barely even does those things. It’s like he hates touching me – he practically jumps a mile in the air whenever our arms brush against each other. It doesn’t bother me much though – I’d much rather be touched by a man that actually wants to touch me.

‘You need to tell me what we’re doing so I know which way to go,’ he says, coming to a stop at a junction. ‘The Vault. I need to get my nails done, and do some shopping.’ ‘You’re having a laugh. You basically want me to be your taxi driver and bag-holder today. That’s not a date,’ he says, sounding outraged, and I roll my eyes. ‘We can go for dinner there too. And anyway, celeb couples always go shopping together,’ I say mildly, the boy still shaking his head despite how he takes the turning for the route to The Vault, a designer outlet around five minutes away from my house.

He drives in a stony silence but I don’t let his bad mood dampen my good one, still singing along to Summer Walker and watching the world pass us by out the window. This weather is still freezing at the moment but it’s a beautiful day regardless of the temperature. The sky’s a lovely clear blue, not a cloud in sight, and the sun is beating down brightly.

It’s not long until we arrive at the shopping centre, and Mason pulls up in front of the main entrance, both of us getting out of the car. Mason grabs a matching baby blue hoodie out of the boot before handing the valet the keys while I fix my skirt, making sure I look picture perfect.

He waits for me to join him, offering his hand reluctantly, and I take it, letting him lock his fingers with mine. We walk through the automatic doors into the warmth of The Vault, and I let out a happy sigh. I love this place so much – the fluffy carpets, comfy chaise lounge chairs and crystal chandeliers everywhere scream luxury.

‘Where to first?’ Mason asks, and I point towards the directory stand, the nail shop on the third floor. He leads me to the lift, letting me in first and pressing the buttons so I don’t have to get my hands dirty. He’s lacking in a lot of things, but he’s always a gentleman in public, and I appreciate it even if it is just for the eyes of everyone else.

When we enter the nail shop, whispers run around the room. It tends to be only rich people that shop at The Vault, but it’s not every day that two international stars walk in together. ‘y/n, darling! How are you?’ my nail tech asks, appearing from the back room to come and give me a hug. ‘I’m good, Christie. How are you?’ ‘I’m good, my love. So introduce me then,’ she prompts, not one for subtlety, and I cringe internally as I say, ‘this is my boyfriend, Mason. Mase, this is Christie, my nail tech.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ he says with a brilliant smile, his charming behaviour making me supress an eyeroll. I never get this charming side – he reserves it for everyone else, and I get the annoying dickhead side instead. ‘Such a good-looking boy,’ Christie says to me, and I force out a little laugh, making myself nod in agreement. ‘Not as good-looking as my girlfriend, though,’ he jokes naturally with a little smile at me, affection in his eyes, and I’m taken aback at how good his acting is.

‘Of course, of course. Now, come, let’s get started,’ Christie says, leading us to her table in the corner, everyone’s eyes following us across the room. I take a seat, hanging my bag on the chair, and Mason hovers awkwardly beside me. ‘Sit here, Mase,’ I say, motioning to the seat beside me, but he shakes his head. ‘I’m gonna do some shopping. I’ll be back in a bit,’ he says, and I feel a little bit guilty for dragging him here.

‘You can… go, if you want. I’ll get Isla to pick me up later,’ I say, but he waves it off immediately. ‘Nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind looking around the shops. I’ll be back soon, alright?’ he says, and I nod, mustering up a smile for him as he goes. The other girls in the shop watch him as he walks to the exit, sparking jealousy in me, followed by surprise at myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but the thought of these other girls fancying him makes me rage internally.

Christie starts removing my old set, distracting me as she chatters away about the latest drama in her tumultuous life. Last time I saw her, she was dating a Brighton player, but now apparently she’s moved on from him and she’s got a Kpop boy in her DMs. I get my nails done every three weeks, and she has a different love interest every single time.

Mason reappears when Christie’s painting gel polish onto my new set, a smile on his face when I meet his eyes. All the girls are watching him again but his eyes don’t stray from me, satisfaction filling me. Ogle him all you want, ladies, but he’s my fake boyfriend.

He has a Starbucks cup in his hand which he puts down on the table as he sits in the chair beside me. ‘An iced blonde caramel macchiato with soy milk and sugar-free syrup,’ he announces, and I can’t hold back my smile as I look at him in surprise. ‘You remembered my order?’ I ask, and he lets out a laugh. ‘Not off by heart. It’s in my notes app so I don’t have to ask you every time,’ he says, the truth touching me even more. He knew he won’t be able to remember so he made a note of it. It’s sweet.

‘You’re cute, Mount,’ I say affectionately, maybe giving him the first compliment since this relationship began. ‘You’re about to find me even cuter,’ he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of gourmet jelly beans that he must have gotten from Selfridges – their confectionary section is massive. ‘Mase,’ I say, dragging the word out in a way that makes him grin.

‘Thought you might want a snack, because you’ve probably only had fruit for breakfast,’ he says, knowing me so well, and I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, because jelly beans are really gonna make up for a light breakfast.’ ‘Better than nothing.’ ‘I suppose. Thank you,’ I say, leaning towards him and planting a kiss on his cheek, the boy raising an eyebrow when I pull away. I only save cheek kisses for when he’s not being at all irritating, and he knows that. The smirk on his face clearly means he’s satisfied at being in my good books for once.

Christie has one of my hands in the UV nail lamp and the other in her hand, intricately painting on a heart, so I can’t pick up the drink. I lean towards it to try and take a sip but it’s a little too far away, and I don’t want to move too much for fear of getting told off by Christie (the woman doesn’t play). ‘Here,’ Mason says, lifting the cup and holding it to me. I take a long sip through the straw, our eyes locked together, and I feel weirdly shy under his gaze, dropping eye contact after a few moments. He lets out a soft chuckle, amused at my nerves.

Come on, bitch, pull yourself together. Don’t let Mason Mount get you flustered. ‘Want a jelly bean?’ he asks and I nod, Mason opening the packet and getting one out. I stick my tongue out, and he falters for a moment, victory filling me. He puts the jelly bean on my tongue, eyes on mine, and I take the jelly bean into my mouth, chewing it with a small smile, the boy rolling his eyes.

We go on like that while Christie does my nails, Mason feeding me jelly beans (whilst eating more than double the amount I do) and holding up my drink for me to have a sip every couple minutes, his phone in his hand as he scrolls distractedly through tiktok. We start an unspoken game, trying to get each flustered and seeing who can hold eye contact longer. I hate to admit it, but he’s definitely winning, and it really pisses me off.

Yes, I’m a virgin, but I still own and use my sexuality – I might know nothing about the actual act of sex but I know how to make a guy want it. Before I was with Mason, I’d get a kick out of leading on these rich and famous guys only to leave them hanging. Not over a long time, of course. Just for a couple hours at parties or in the club. There’s something so fun about letting a guy think he’s gonna get to take you home but leaving with your girls instead. It’s always the same, with prolonged eye contact, suggestive actions (putting on lipgloss or sipping a drink with puckered lips through a straw), and light physical contact. But Mason’s never fallen prey to any of that – he’s never tried it on with me.

I suppose it’s a good thing, because he’s really fucking annoying and I don’t want to sleep with him. We’re at a mutual agreement that this is nothing more than a fake relationship and all we have to do is tolerate each other, so it’d ruin that if either of us ever tried to make it something more. Not that either of us want to, of course. We literally can’t stand each other.

‘Shall I add his initials?’ Christie asks, breaking me out of my thoughts, and it takes me a moment to register her question. In that moment, Mason answers for me. ‘Yeah, add my initials,’ he grins, and I barely stop myself from shooting him a dirty look. ‘Shall I do it on your ring finger?’ she asks, and I cringe internally. I’m about to get the initials of a guy who doesn’t see me romantically painted on my ring finger nail. The finger I’m supposed to save for an engagement ring.

‘Um… do his initials on the right ring finger, and his number on the left ring finger. 19,’ I say – it doesn’t make much of a difference but it feels better than the other option. The base colour of my nails is nude, and the hearts are white and pink. Christie uses white to paint his number onto the pink heart on my left ring fingernail, and pink to paint his initials onto the white heart on my right ring fingernail. I hate to admit it but it looks really cute, and I get a warm feeling in my chest at having a boys’ initials on my nails, even if they are Mason’s.

‘Kimmy! Come and get some photos of her nails,’ Christie says, the social media girl rushing over with her phone. She has me putting my hands in different positions and angles, finally satisfied after five minutes of pictures and videos. Mason’s waiting for me beside the door with my bag and my drink in his hands, and I rush over, quickly saying goodbye to the other technicians.

‘£120, like usual?’ I ask Christie as I take my drink from Mason, the boy still holding my bag, and Christie shakes her head. ‘Your boyfriend paid already,’ she says before bidding me goodbye and disappearing off into the back. ‘You shouldn’t have p-’ ‘It’s fine. I made you get my initials so it’s only right,’ he says offhandedly, and I raise an eyebrow, a small smile on my lips. ‘It’s okay if you wanted to pay for them. You can just admit it,’ I joke, and he rolls his eyes.

‘It’s your Valentine’s present,’ he says, my jaw dropping. ‘You’d better be joking,’ I say threateningly, a small grin on his face. ‘I’m joking. I’ve already got your gifts, babe,’ he says easily, taking my hand into his, and I hear lots of ‘aww’s from the girls behind me. ‘Good,’ I reply sternly, letting him lead me out into the corridor, walking leisurely past the shops.

‘We actually do need to plan something for Valentine’s though,’ I say quietly once we’re out of earshot of anyone else, and he remains silent. ‘I know you’d rather not spend a random Tuesday night with me but it looks suspicious if we don’t do anything. And if we don’t plan something, our agents will, and their plans are always boring,’ I continue, met with even more silence. ‘Let’s not do the usual dinner and drinks. We could do an activity instead! Bowling is always cute. Or mini golf, even though I’m shit at it. Maybe even-’ ‘y/n,’ Mason cuts me off, hesitating to continue speaking before he sighs.

‘I’ve already planned Valentine’s,’ he admits, and I stare at him blankly for a long few moments. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve made plans for us already,’ he says, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I ask, and he sighs again. ‘I thought I’d surprise you. I heard you talking with Steph about how you’ve never done anything for Valentine’s with a boy, and I know you don’t want to waste all your firsts on a fake boyfriend, but we have to do something on Valentine’s anyway so I thought I’d make it special for you,’ he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, and I feel myself melting inside. I think I might even cry.

‘That’s… really nice. Thanks, Mase,’ I say softly, and he just waves off my gratitude, clearly feeling awkward. ‘It’s alright. It was about time I planned a date anyway, so I thought I’d show you how it’s done,’ he jokes, and I shove him lightly, laughing. ‘The dates I plan are always fun!’ ‘Oh, yeah, this date has been really fun,’ he says drily, and I feel a bit sheepish at that. I wanted to piss him off but now I feel guilty.

‘Let’s just go then,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s fine. Do your shopping first.’ ‘It can wait. There’s nothing urgent I need to get,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Where are we gonna go instead?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. ‘Back to mine,’ I say, a smirk finding his lips.

‘Say less.’ ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ I warn, the boy chuckling. ‘What are we gonna do at yours then?’ ‘Valentine’s baking!’ I say excitedly, the boy staring at me deadpan. ‘Baking?’ ‘Yes. You’re always eating my baking so now’s your chance to make up for it and do some baking of your own.’ ‘I’m always eating your baking because that’s what you’re supposed to do with it. Not just let it sit in a jar on your counter until it goes off,’ he says pointedly, and I roll my eyes.

‘Okay, fair point. But speaking of baking going off, those cookies are on their way out so they need replacing,’ I smile, and he just grumbles under his breath. ‘Fine, we’ll go back to your house and do baking, but you owe me a homecooked meal afterwards,’ he bargains. ‘Deal. What do you wanna eat?’ ‘You,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. ‘Other than me,’ I say, and he considers it for a second. ‘Tacos.’ ‘So me and tacos for dinner?’ I ask amusedly, and he laughs, pulling me into his arms. ‘Sounds perfect.’

‘Oh, my feet are killing me,’ I sigh as we walk through my front door, Mason letting go of my hand so I can sit on the bottom step of my staircase. ‘Sorry. I should’ve told you to wear more sensible footwear,’ Mason says as he locks the door after himself, and I shake my head. ‘It’s fine. I would’ve worn these anyway. They’re my V-Day boots!’ I say happily, clicking my heels together.

After finding out I had surprise plans for Valentine’s Day, I bought a new pair of boots for the occasion. I already had a pink mini dress in the exact same shade as the hearts on these white boots, and I was sold the second I saw that the heels are heart-shaped. Mason said it was a bit morbid that every step I took was stamping on hearts, but I thought it was cute.

We’ve been bickering and having stupid arguments all day but, overall, I’ve really enjoyed spending Valentine’s Day with him. He’s been irritating as usual, but he’s also been sweet and romantic as well, which was definitely surprising. I didn’t say anything about it though, because we’re in a good patch at the moment and I don’t want to ruin it.

After he paid for my Valentine’s nails the other day, we come back and baked some Valentine’s cupcakes and cookies. We filmed a vlog for my YouTube channel and Tiktok videos for both of our accounts, like we always do when we do stuff like this. The difference this time was the lack of acting – our affection, flirting and joking together was all real. We bickered, like we always do, but it was light-hearted, and he kept resolving it with stuffing chocolate in my mouth or pulling me into warm hugs.

After baking, I cooked chicken tacos and we sat together at the kitchen island to eat. We chatted idly as we ate, and he actually complimented my cooking. When he got a call from his parents saying they were on their way to his house, the night ended abruptly and, despite my disappointment, I was relieved. I’d felt myself starting to look at him differently and that scared the shit out of me, so I was happy to send him on his way with a box of cupcakes and cookies for his family.

We didn’t speak again after then until last night, when he messaged telling me to be ready for 10am. He showed up on time, with gifts too! I proudly put the bouquet of red and white roses into a vase as he watched with a satisfied grin, making sure to put the single pink rose in the middle. He also insisted on me opening the box of chocolates so I could try one, and it was the best chocolate I’ve ever had. I googled the brand, To-ak, and I couldn’t believe my eyes at the price. He spent £300 on a box of chocolates for me.

We started the day with breakfast at my favourite brunch spot in The Vault. We got one avo-and-egg on toast and one plate of berry pancakes, sharing both dishes like a real couple. Then he drove us into the city for bowling and mini golf – he said he wanted to burst out laughing when I mentioned both of those things at The Vault last week. He tried his best to coach me at both activities (and I had no complaints at his body pressed up behind mine as he guided my movements and held my hands) but he still managed to beat me at both. I didn’t mind though – I would’ve gotten the ick if my athletic fake boyfriend lost to me at bowling and mini golf.

Then we went for Afternoon Tea on Park Lane followed by watching A Midsummer Night’s Dream on the West End. Mason has no interest in theatre but he knows I love it so he sucked it up, and even bought us box tickets so we had a perfect view of the stage. I didn’t even realise I was starting to get cold until I’d shivered, and Mason took his jacket off to lay it across my lap before moving closer to me, wrapping an arm around me to keep me warm.

After the theatre, he took me to dinner at Le Gavroche, an expensive French restaurant. I was too fussy to eat most of the food but I was still more than happy to be there, sitting opposite a pretty boy in a fancy restaurant, flirting over champagne and French cheese. And he got me McDonald’s nuggets on the way home so I wouldn’t complain about being hungry.

Now we’re back at mine. I invited him in, without any reason as to why, but he accepted. We’ve both been so… lovey-dovey and cute today. It’s so weird actually getting along with him but it feels right at the same time, which is scary. Multiple times today, I’ve had to remind myself that our relationship is fake, feeling a jolt at the thought.

‘Who buys new shoes for Valentine’s Day?’ he asks amusedly. ‘Bad bitches,’ I say proudly before trying to take them off. With them being brand new, the zips are very stiff, and I’m holding them at a stupid angle because of my long nails. ‘Let me help,’ Mason laughs after a few seconds of watching me struggle, dropping to one knee and lifting his hands to the top of my left zip. His skin brushes against mine, the contact at my inner thigh making me shiver, and his eyes remain locked with mine as he undoes the zip, carefully pulling the boot off my foot and leaving me in my thigh high socks. He does the same with the other, the completely innocent act making my stomach clench.

He stands up, holding out a hand to help me up, and he keeps my hand in his as he leads me to the kitchen. ‘Don’t tell me you’re hungry,’ I tease, getting a look of feigned offence in response. He ate every last crumb on both of our plates and shared my nuggets with me in the car – the boy can eat but I’ll be shocked if he has any more room.

‘I’m thirsty,’ he says, letting go of my hand to get a glass out of the cupboard, about to pour himself some water. ‘Let’s have some wine,’ I say suddenly, Mason raising an amused eyebrow at me. ‘I have to drive home, and I’ve already at the limit with that champagne,’ he reminds me. ‘You can stay the night. I have a couple guest bedrooms you can choose from,’ I say quietly, his gaze warm on my skin as his grin grows.

‘Yeah?’ he asks, and I nod, struggling to keep eye contact with him, the butterflies in my stomach going wild. I wasn’t even propositioning him – I just thought it’d be nice to finish the day with late night chats over a glass of wine, not a quiet and empty house. ‘Okay, I’ll have some wine.’ ‘Which one do you want?’ I ask, opening my wine cupboard and moving aside to show him. ‘I want the one in the living room,’ he says, and I blink in confusion. ‘Living room?’ ‘Yeah. There’s a bottle of wine in your living room,’ he repeats, and I frown. ‘What? Where?’ I ask, heading towards the living room.

I gasp when I spot the presents on the coffee table, looking back at Mason who grins at me. ‘You didn’t think I just got you flowers and chocolate, did you?’ he asks, looking very proud of himself, and I rush into the living room excitedly, wanting to see my gifts. I take a couple photos first, knowing I’ll want to remember this moment, and he just watches on with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Which one shall I open first?’ I ask, and he points to the bottle bag amusedly, both of us already knowing what it is after what he said.

I get through the gifts pretty quickly in my excitement, tearing the co-ordinated pink wrapping paper and being careful not to drop the confetti and the glitter in each gift bag on the floor. Every single gift is so me; the rosé wine, the pink crystal butterfly hairclips, the signed Summer Walker vinyls, the Huda Beauty pink eyeshadow palette, the pink lego flowers set and the dusty pink knee-high boots with my name printed on the soles. I never realised he knew me so well, but every single gift is perfect. The boots are even my size!

‘One left,’ he says, handing me a pink velvet jewellery box, and my eyes fill with tears before I even open it. ‘y/n, don’t cry!’ he exclaims, alarmed, and I blink back the tears quickly, opening the box with shaking hands. I gasp at the set inside, a hand over my mouth and my eyes wide. ‘It’s called pink sapphire, which I didn’t even know was a thing but, apparently, it is. It’s also custom so I can’t really return it, but I’ll just, like, give it to a charity auction or something if you don’t like it,’ he says, obviously nervous, and I shake my head.

‘I love it, Mason. It’s so beautiful,’ I whisper, already enamoured with the pink sapphire stones set into the pendant on the silver necklace, the silver tennis bracelet and the silver hoops. ‘That’s good then,’ he says, actually letting out a sigh of relief before he helps me put it all on, watching with an affectionate smile as I admire myself in my front camera.

‘This is all too much, Mason. It must have cost you a bomb,’ I say, and he waves off my concerns. ‘It’s fine. I fucked up your birthday so this is the least I could do,’ he says lightly, trying to sound casual, and I try not to laugh at the reminder of the half-dead bouquet of flowers and box of Thorntons chocolates he got for my birthday (I’m not one to sneer at Thorntons – chocolate is chocolate – but it was a Christmas box that was out of date by three years).

‘Well, I got you something too, but don’t get your hopes up too much. They’re not as good as what you’ve got me,’ I warn him, getting up and getting the gift box I hid in the corner of the room, a big grin on his face. Despite my warning, I already know he’s gonna love everything I’ve got him – I’m a very good gift buyer and I’ve been planning this for a while. I may or may not have also put in minimal effort for his birthday and felt bad about it, so I’m trying to make up for it with this.

He looks very happy with the black tracksuit I got from some streetwear brand that him and his friends are all obsessed with, and he’s even happier with the custom silver chain I got from one of my jeweller friends. But his favourite is the blue Van Cleef bracelet, even before he spots the letters of his name engraved on the inside of each clover.

‘You’re sweet,’ he grins, pulling me into his arms and kissing the top of my head, a warm feeling flooding through my body, my heart singing. ‘I’ll get some glasses for the wine,’ I say, rushing back into the kitchen and taking a few seconds to compose myself, staring at my reflection in the fridge.

I’m supposed to hate Mason, or strongly dislike him anyway. But we’ve been getting along, and maybe I don’t dislike him after having such a romantic day with him. Maybe I actually like him a little bit, even more after getting all those thoughtful gifts from him. And maybe he likes me as well. He knows me well, at least, and cared enough to plan a day he knew I’d love and buy me perfect gifts. And now we’re about to sit alone in my living room, drinking rosé wine late at night. This probably isn’t a good idea, but the desire pulsing through my body pushes the hesitation out of my mind.

I bring two wine glasses back into the living room, Mason popping the bottle open and pouring us two half glasses. We clink our glasses together and both take a sip before Mason lifts my legs across his lap, both of us comfortable on the sofa. I sip on my wine as Mason scrolls through Netflix to find something for us to watch, not able to settle on anything. I’m not at all helpful either – I’d much rather sit here and talk to him so I just keep making noncommittal noises when he asks what I want to watch.

‘I’ll put music on instead,’ he says, opening Spotify and clicking on My Mix, the playlist starting with Summer Walker. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he chuckles, putting down the remote and finishing off his wine. ‘Aren’t you gonna complain and try to turn it off like usual?’ I ask, and he shrugs with a rueful smile. ‘Maybe her music’s growing on me,’ he admits, and I gasp excitedly. ‘Good! I’ll send you recommendations, and then you can start listening to SZA and Jhene after,’ I say, knowing it’ll annoy him if I make a big deal out of this, and he groans with a roll of his eyes, making me laugh.

‘I’m joking.’ ‘I know, but it’s even more annoying because I’ve already got SZA and Jhene on my Spotify because of you. All of your stuff is growing on me. RnB, The Vault, 90s romcoms, wine and champagne. I even like the colour pink now,’ he says lightly, one finger gently running across the thin strap of my dress, my shoulder tingling in the wake of his touch.

‘I’ve started liking your stuff too. I go to your football matches, and I actually enjoy watching them. I’ve started going to the weird bars you like, full of white people who think they’re cool. I listen to your favourite American rappers. And maybe the colour blue isn’t so bad,’ I say quietly, a little grin on his face.

‘It’s not a surprise, though. We’ve been seeing each other at least once a week since this relationship started nearly 11 months ago. That’s a lot of time to spend with someone. We were bound to rub off on each other,’ he says, and I nod in agreement. As much as we argue and haven’t been getting along for the majority of this relationship, our lives are so intertwined now. It feels wrong to say our relationship’s fake because we behave exactly like a couple. It’s more accurate to say it was a relationship without the feelings, but maybe that’s not even true anymore.

‘I never would’ve guessed you’d like romcoms though. Which ones are your favourites?’ I ask, and he thinks for a moment. ‘I like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.’ ‘That’s only because you think Kate Hudson’s fit.’ ‘Says you, Matthew McConaughey’s biggest fan,’ he says pointedly, and I remain silent, knowing he’s right. ‘And I like 10 Things I Hate About You as well. But I think Clueless is my favourite,’ he grins, my heart melting. I’m the personification of the film Clueless, and we both know it.

‘Clueless, really? What do you like about Clueless?’ ‘I like Cher. She’s cute, stylish, funny, pretty, kind-hearted, and completely oblivious,’ he lists off, brushing my hair back with his hand, my heart fluttering. ‘Oblivious?’ ‘Well, maybe clueless is a better word,’ he says lightly, and I roll my eyes at the bad joke.

‘How is she clueless?’ ‘She’s so wrapped up in her own little world that those pretty brown eyes of hers can’t see how people feel about her,’ he says softly, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. ‘Cher’s eyes aren’t brown.’ ‘I’m not talking about Cher anymore, babe,’ he murmurs, our eyes locked together, my entire body alight with nerves. ‘What am I not seeing?’ I ask, his lips quirking up at the question. ‘You really can’t see how I feel about you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, heart hammering in my chest.

‘I tried my best not to feel any way about you, because I know you want a big romantic love-at-first-sight relationship and I didn’t wanna try and steal that away from you, but I can’t pretend anymore. Not after the nail shop last week. Sitting with a girl while she’s getting her nails done should be the most boring thing in the world, but I’d spend every day of my life feeding you jelly beans and macchiatos, and watching you smile at pink hearts on your nails. And I can’t even describe the feeling of seeing my initials and my number on your nails, your ring fingers. All I could think was that I want to put more than my number on this finger,’ he admits in a low voice, lifting my hand and touching my finger where I’d wear an engagement or wedding ring.

‘But I thought you hated me,’ I whisper, so overwhelmed by a trillion different emotions, and he lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at my hand in his. ‘I’ve never hated you, y/n. It was childish of me, I know, but we fell out at the start because you told me I couldn’t kiss you or touch you. If I hated you, why would I have a problem with that?’ he asks, and I could slap myself for not even thinking about that.

‘I thought you were just annoyed that you wouldn’t be able to kiss or touch anyone the whole time we’re together.’ ‘y/n, I’m not a sex addict or something. I can go without physical contact. It’s been difficult being around you so much and not being able to release my frustrations properly, but still,’ he says amusedly, and I feel my body warm up. With the combination of the wine and what he’s saying, I’ll end up letting him have his way with me tonight.

‘So you like me?’ I ask, and he laughs again. ‘That’s putting it a bit simply but, yeah. I do. I think you’re the most amazing girl in the world,’ he says simply, complete honesty in his eyes, and I’m silent for a long few moments, mind working at a million miles an hour. ‘If you like me back, this would be a really good time to say that,’ he says amusedly, and I let out a little laugh.

‘I think I like you too.’ ‘You think?’ ‘I don’t… these feelings are really unfamiliar to me. I’ve only ever had schoolgirl crushes on guys. I’ve never felt this way before. I get this tight feeling in my chest when I look at you. I like being around you, even when we’re arguing. I love that people know me as your girlfriend, and I love that girls can look at you but they know they can’t have you because you’re my boyfriend. I think you’re annoying and cocky but I like that you’re annoying and cocky,’ I say, my admission making him laugh.

‘That probably means you like me.’ ‘Yeah, but then… I like wearing your hoodies and jackets because they smell like you, and I get this funny feeling in my stomach at your scent. I pretend to get annoyed at your dirty jokes but I get butterflies whenever you say them. I always wear tight and tiny outfits around you, even when it’s freezing, because I want you to want me. And I can’t think straight when I watch you play football and you’re all angry and sweaty. So I don’t think saying that I like you really covers how I feel,’ I breathe out, his eyes darkening, lips parted in surprise.

‘That’s… fuck. How can you be hot and cute at the same time?’ he asks faintly, and he moves the hand that isn’t holding mine to rest on my bare thigh, between the top of my sock and the bottom of my mini dress. ‘Hot and cute?’ ‘Babe, you just admitted you’re sexually attracted to me in the most innocent way possible,’ he chuckles, fingers tracing patterns across my skin, the area between my legs throbbing with need.

‘Because I don’t… I’ve obviously been attracted to people before but never like this. Never enough to want to act on it,’ I say, the realisation dawning on us both a moment later. ‘You wanna act on it?’ he asks with a little grin, tips of his fingers toying with the hem of my dress. ‘Yeah, I guess. It’s just scary,’ I whisper, and he laughs softly.

‘You don’t have to be scared. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do or don’t feel comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything at all. I don’t expect us to go upstairs to your room now that we’ve had this conversation. It’s a big step,’ he says gently, making me want him even more.

‘What if I did want to go upstairs to my room though?’ I ask, biting down on one of my nails nervously, his eyes zoning in on my lips. ‘You know I wouldn’t say no.’ ‘Yeah, but, like… tell me what you’d do,’ I prompt, a smile playing at his lips.

‘I’d take it slow. I’d kiss you first, for as long as possible because I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime. Then I’d undress you and kiss all over this perfect body. And then I’d put my fingers in you, nice and gentle so it doesn’t hurt, and I’d make it feel so good for you, babe. I’d stretch you out slow so I can hear all your pretty noises, and then I’d eat you out until you cum on my tongue. And then I’d fill you up with my cock bit by bit and I’d fuck you slow, babe. Have you moaning my name in my ear when you cum around me.’

By the end of his perfectly-woven story, my mind is completely blank and my underwear is soaked. It’s pretty much exactly what I’ve always wanted my first time to be like – the only thing missing from my fantasy is a view from the most expensive room at The Shard after a romantic dinner, but I wouldn’t trade my evening with Mason for that.

‘Okay,’ I whisper, Mason chuckling softly. ‘Yeah? Are you sure?’ he asks, and I nod nervously, my stomach doing flips. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he says, hand rubbing my leg soothingly, and I nod, trying to calm myself down. ‘Let me kiss you first,’ he murmurs, my heart skipping a beat. What if I’m a horrendous kisser and he gets the ick? Or what if I accidently bite him? Does my breath smell?

‘y/n, relax. It’s just a kiss, babe. You have kissed someone before, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, his eyes widening in shock. ‘So I’m about to be your first kiss as well?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘That’s a lot of pressure, you know,’ he says with a small smile, lifting a hand to a lock of my hair, twirling it around his fingers. ‘It’s not. You could be a terrible kisser and I wouldn’t even know,’ I say, the boy laughing gently.

‘You’d be able to tell. Bad kissers are obvious.’ ‘And you’ve had your fair share of those?’ I ask, his gaze softening at the mild jealousy in my tone. The situation is obvious to both of us – he’s about to be my first everything, and I’m about to be just another in a long list for him. ‘I wouldn’t say fair share. A couple. But don’t think about them. I’m not thinking about them. I’m thinking about you only, babe,’ he whispers, our eyes locked together, and that’s all the reassurance I need.

‘Can I kiss you, y/n?’ he asks softly, and I nod, a small smile on his face. He begins to lean in, and my eyes flutter shut, my heart hammering in my chest as his lips gently brush against mine. He pulls back momentarily, as though he’s waiting to see if I’m still okay with it, and I feel myself leaning towards him, Mason letting out a chuckle as our lips meet again.

He slides his arms around me, lifting me up into his lap so he can pull me closer, his mouth pressing harder on mine, and I soften against him when he parts my lips with his.

It’s a tame and sweet kiss, one that makes the butterflies in my stomach melt into a puddle of want. His hands stay on my back, his lips gentle against mine, but I want more, need more from him. I adjust myself slightly on his lap, the movement making his breath catch in his throat, and the realisation that he’s getting hard beneath me only makes me even more desperate.

We break apart after a few moments, none of the panting and dark eyes I’d expect after a kiss, and I’m almost disappointed. I know he’s trying to be gentlemanly for my first time, but I don’t want him to be a gentleman now. I want him to do whatever he wants to me. I want him to enjoy this too.

‘Was that okay?’ he asks, and I nod after a split second of hesitation. He notices it, eyebrows furrowing in concern. ‘No, it wasn’t. Are you okay? Do you want to stop?’ he asks, and I shake my head, feeling embarrassed about being so desperate for him. ‘The last thing I want you to do is stop,’ I say quietly, the realisation on his face quickly followed by dark amusement.

‘What do you want me to do then, y/n?’ he grins, and I pout at him, hitting his chest lightly. ‘Don’t make me say it,’ I complain, the boy laughing. ‘How will I know if you don’t say it?’ ‘Mason.’ ‘y/n. You have to communicate with me, baby,’ he murmurs, eyes dark and big as he looks at me, and I let out a little sigh.

‘I want more. I don’t want you to hold back,’ I admit, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘It’s your first time.’ ‘I know, but I want you to enjoy this as well.’ ‘I enjoy anything with you, babe,’ he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Don’t lie. That kiss was cute for a first kiss, but it must have been boring for you. I don’t want to bore you, Mase.’ ‘You don’t bore me. Babe, we’ve got all night for not-boring kisses. I just wanted your first one to be the perfect kiss that you probably always dreamed about,’ he says, a smile finding my face at that. He’s cute.

‘I don’t… how do I say this?’ I mutter, so embarrassed at the thought of what I’m about to admit, and he just waits patiently for me to speak. ‘I always dreamed of romance, yes. But I dreamed of it for dates and my wedding and holidays with my boyfriend. It was never something I dreamed about in the bedroom,’ I say quietly, and he tilts his head questioningly. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The thought of romantic sex doesn’t…’ I trail off, the look in his eyes like he’s just stumbled across gold.

‘y/n, that’s… are you saying you’re into other things?’ he asks quietly, in complete shock, and I nod, feeling mortified at this conversation. ‘Like what?’ ‘Don’t make me say it, Mase,’ I whine, the boy laughing. ‘No, this is not what I expected from you at all. You have to say it otherwise I won’t believe it.’ ‘No, Mason. I can’t say it,’ I say firmly, knowing I’ll die of humiliation if he makes me say this out loud.

‘Fine, okay. I’ll ask then. Do you want it rough, y/n? Want me to use you to make myself feel good? Want me to kiss you and touch you and fuck you like a slut?’ he asks with a dark grin, my mind entering overdrive, my lack of response giving him the answer he was expecting. ‘My baby’s not so innocent after all then, is she?’ he asks lowly, hands tightening on my waist, pressing me down onto his lap. The friction makes me let out a soft sigh, his eyes darkening at the sound.

‘Fuck. This is… probably not a good idea. I can’t be rough with you for your first time. I don’t wanna hurt you.’ ‘You won’t. You’ll know better than I will what I can and can’t handle,’ I say quietly, and his lips quirk up amusedly. ‘You’ll be able to handle anything I give you, won’t you, baby?’ he murmurs, looking satisfied at the way I take a deep breath to pull myself together, my nod making him grin wider.

‘Gonna be a good girl for me?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Good. Don’t want to have to punish you, do we, babe?’ he asks, and I feel my heartrate speed up at the mention of punishment. ‘You want to be punished? Such a dirty girl, y/n. Want me to spread you over my lap and slap your perfect ass until you’re crying?’ he asks lowly, and I struggle to hold his gaze, the thought of it making my core ache.

‘Mase, please.’ ‘Please what, babe?’ he asks, and I don’t even really know what I’m asking for. ‘Kiss me again,’ I ask, one of his hands snaking up to the back of my neck, pulling my head closer to him so our lips can meet again.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, the kiss making my mind focus on nothing but him. I never could’ve dreamed that kissing would feel this good, his lips enveloping my mouth, his tongue sliding over mine. It’s passionate and deep and messy, and all I can’t think straight with his scent filling my senses, his soft hair between my fingers, and his hands sliding up and down my back.

His hands tighten at my waist again, guiding me to move forward on his lap, the movement making me let out a whimper against his lips. That must be his final straw because he breaks apart, both of us out of breath this time.

‘Am I a bad kisser?’ I ask, the boy laughing. ‘No, y/n. You’re perfect,’ he smiles, my heart fluttering. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I just need to grab something from my car,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘You’re not running away, are you?’ I ask suspiciously, and he laughs. ‘I’d have to either be gay or stupid if I decided to leave now,’ he says lightly, making me giggle. ‘I have condoms in my car. Unless you’ve got some?’ he asks, the situation suddenly feeling very real, my body humming with arousal.

‘I don’t. Do we need them though? I’m on birth control,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s not worth the risk. You’d probably be put off for life if you get pregnant from your first time,’ he says drily, making me laugh. ‘It’ll be fine.’ ‘Don’t tempt me, y/n. Seriously,’ he says warningly, and I gaze at him with big innocent eyes. ‘I wanna feel you though.’ ‘You will feel me, babe. You can’t even notice the condom,’ he says, trying to sound firm but I can tell he’s being swayed.

‘Fine, okay,’ I give in, the boy breathing a sigh of relief at me not trying to persuade him anymore. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I’ll be up in a minute,’ he says as I get off him, the boy following me out of the room. He slaps my ass lightly as I take the first step, and I can’t help but giggle to myself as I head upstairs.

I enter my bedroom, putting on some music through my speaker before tidying away all the stuff I left out while I was getting ready earlier. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs as I’m putting my straighteners away in my bathroom drawer, my stomach churning with nerves and excitement, the latter just about outweighing the former.

I step back into the bedroom to see him entering the room too, a smile on his face when he meets my eyes. ‘Are you still sure you wanna do this?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. Yes, this is scary, but I’m ready. I don’t want my first time to be with anyone but him. ‘Come here then,’ he grins, holding out a hand to me, and I cross the room to take it, letting him pull me against him.

Our lips meet in another pulse-racing kiss, his hands trailing all over my body as I grip onto his strong shoulders before snaking my hands up to tangle my fingers into his hair. My skin tingles in the wake of his touch, his needy hands squeezing my ass, pressing into my waist, sliding across my back, running through my hair.

His tongue slides across mine as he slips his fingers beneath the hem of my dress, slow on their journey up my legs, bringing my dress up with them. ‘Can I take this off you?’ he asks against my lips, and I hum out my permission. He doesn’t waste any more time, his fingers slipping the straps off my shoulders and pushing the material down my body, the dress landing in a pool at my feet.

He wraps his arms around me, lifting me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us towards the bed, putting me down gently. He looks down at me, pupils impossibly wide and dark as they trawl over my body, clad in just a lacy pink bra, matching pants and my thigh high white socks with little pink bows on them. I take the opportunity to admire him too. He’s in a pair of loose jeans and a soft blue jumper, a silver chain tucked into it. His hair’s all fluffy from me running my hands through it, and he looks more handsome than he’s ever looked in his life.

‘You’re so beautiful, y/n,’ he murmurs, climbing over me and capturing my lips in another kiss. He breaks the kiss quickly though, moving to press kisses along my jaw and down my neck. When he reaches my collarbone, I realise he’s kissing all over my body like he said he was going to. ‘Can I?’ he asks, hands slipping beneath my back, fingers on the clasp on my bra, and I nod. He expertly pops the clasp open, helping pull the straps down my arms.

‘I’ve always loved your boobs,’ he admits, my laugh cut off by a gasp when he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, the other breast in his hand, fingers roughly gripping the flesh. He switches to the other nipple, rolling the first between his fingers so as not to neglect it, and I feel my back arch at the sudden pleasurable shocks.

‘Does that feel good?’ he asks, words muffled by how they’re spoken around my nipple. ‘Mmm, so good,’ I whimper as he gropes and sucks on my boobs like a teen boy. I’d laugh if my mind wasn’t distracted with the intense pleasure.

He continues kissing down my stomach and, to my surprise, he leaves my pants on and skips the area entirely, kissing my thighs until he reaches the tops of my socks. ‘These fucking socks,’ he murmurs, pulling one of them away from my leg before letting go of it, the material slapping back against my skin. ‘You like them?’ ‘I fucking love them, baby. You look like such a cute little slut in them,’ he grins as he pushes my legs apart. I expect his eyes to focus in on my clothed core but he keeps his eyes on mine, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, little tingles running through me at the feeling of his lips somewhere so intimate.

‘Turn over for me, babe,’ he prompts and I do as he says, lying on my stomach. He moves my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck before moving down the line in the middle of my back. His journey to the dip just before my ass is slow, my heart suspended in anticipation. When he reaches my ass, he gently nips at one cheek before pressing soothing kisses in the same place, a blissful sigh escaping my lips.

The sound seems to knock him out a reverie, the boy turning me onto my back and hovering over me to kiss me again. He keeps himself elevated leaning on one forearm, the other hand pressing into the curve of my waist. I let my hands rest on either side of his face, his beard soft against my skin as our lips move in sync, tongues clashing messily. Nothing about this kiss meets the expectations for a first time, but it’s exactly what I want.

He turns us over, my body weight resting on top of his, and his hands instantly slide down to my ass, gripping it tightly before slapping it, the sound loud in the room. I giggle into our kiss, his lips curling up at the sound as he brings his hands up my body, a shiver running through me at the feeling of his fingers gliding across my bare skin.

I break apart from him after a moment, sitting just below his stomach with my legs straddling him. He looks up at me in awe, trying his best not to stare at my bare chest right in front of him. I slip my fingers beneath his jumper, feeling his warm skin, and he sits up so I can take it off him, bringing up the t-shirt underneath with it, leaving his top half bare. I’ve seen him shirtless a couple times but never so close like this, and I let my hands explore his torso, up and down over the contours of his muscles.

‘My girls would kill me if they knew we were doing this,’ I admit distractedly, eyes focused on his abs. ‘Why? Because they hate me?’ he asks, leaning back on his elbows with a cocky grin, and I let out a little laugh. ‘Why do you get such a kick out of the fact my friends hate you?’ ‘Because they’re the closest people to you, and they’re probably always telling you that I’m not shit and you need to get your agent to end the relationship, but look at us,’ he says proudly, and I roll my eyes amusedly.

‘Well, that’s not the only reason they’d kill me.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘They’re always telling me I should sell my virginity,’ I tell him, tracing my nails over the lines of his abs. ‘Sell it? You’re not a prostitute.’ ‘I know, but I could get a good few million for it from some rich middle-aged business man,’ I say, and he just raises an eyebrow.

‘We could make a few million other ways,’ he murmurs, hands resting on my waist. ‘How?’ ‘We could make a porno,’ he grins, my core pulsing at the thought. ‘A porno?’ ‘Yeah. Your pretty face and pretty body and pretty noises in a sextape would make us more than a few millions. And I bet your pretty tits, pretty ass and pretty pussy would make us billions, baby,’ he smirks, pulling me close for another kiss, arousal flooding through my body. He hasn’t even seen me fully naked yet but he’s so firm about the attractiveness of my body – it definitely gives me a confidence boost.

The aching between my legs is too much, and I find myself pressing down onto him to relieve it. He tenses beneath me, clearly just as worked up as me with the way he grips onto my hips, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us breathless. Gentle waves of pleasure roll through my body, my lips letting out quiet sighs against his mouth.

‘Does that feel good, babe?’ he asks, breaking away from me and kissing along my jaw. I let out an ‘mmm’ sound which he takes as an answer, lips lifting up into a grin against my skin before he nips at it, the pleasurable pain making me whimper. ‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mumbles into my neck, still rocking my body against his.

‘Can I ask you something? A personal question?’ he asks, and I sit up after a moment, feeling nervous as I nod. ‘What have you actually done? Sexually? Because I know you’re a virgin but I’d assumed that you’d kissed someone before, so maybe my assumptions are all wrong,’ he says, and a small smile finds my lips at the question.

‘I haven’t done anything. You’re the first person to kiss me and touch me and see me like this,’ I say, a tiny smirk on his face. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘What about what you’ve done? Have you ever touched yourself, babe?’ he asks, and I avoid his gaze, feeling a little bit of embarrassment unfurling in my chest. ‘I tried, once.’ ‘Why only once?’ ‘It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like anything, really. So I just never tried again,’ I admit, the boy grinning.

‘So you’ve never had an orgasm before?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Good. I’ll make your first one amazing, babe, I promise,’ he murmurs, pulling me down for a brief kiss before lifting me off him. He gets up off the bed, about to take his jeans off, but I grab his hands to stop him.

‘Let me,’ I breathe out, kneeling at the edge of the bed and looking up at him as I flick his jeans button open. He watches how I pull the zip down before bunching the material in my hands, slowly pulling it down his legs, leaving him in just his Calvin Kleins, his boner right in front of my face. My curiosity gets the best of me and I palm his cock through his boxers, the groan he lets out making my pants flood.

‘Fuck, baby, don’t. I’m gonna end up cumming in my fucking boxers like I’m the virgin here,’ he warns me, making me laugh. He moves my pillows aside, sitting at the top of the bed with his back against the headboard, and he pats the bed between his legs, motioning for me to sit there. I crawl up the bed, sitting with my back against his front, my body enveloped by his.

I rest my hands on his thighs as he snakes his arms around me, his lips landing on my neck. I tilt my head to allow him better access, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his kisses, and his hands slide down my stomach and under my legs. He pulls my legs up to bend at the knees before slipping his hands between my thighs, parting them.

‘Shall we come up with a safe word for you, babe?’ he asks against my skin, and I nod. ‘Think of one,’ he prompts, and I wrack my brains. ‘Clueless?’ I suggest, the boy chuckling, his warm breath fanning across my bare shoulder. ‘So you’ll say ‘clueless’ if you need me to stop, okay?’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Good girl,’ he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

‘Make sure you tell me if you want me to stop,’ he reminds me as his hand slips down between my legs, fingertips gliding across my saturated underwear, making me shiver in his arms. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet, babe,’ he whispers, my breaths already becoming shaky with his finger gently running up and down my pants. He doesn’t waste much time before sliding his hand beneath my underwear, ending his teasing quickly which I’m grateful for. His fingers glide lightly across my wet folds and he quickly finds my clit, fingers pressing against the bud. I let out a high-pitched whimper, head falling back against him and he lets out a gentle chuckle.

‘Does that feel good, baby?’ he asks as he rubs at my clit in slow circles, and I nod, exhilaration filling me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, my body humming with desire and pleasure, soft breaths escaping my lips.

He pulls my pants aside to exposing my glistening core to the cool air of the room, a shudder running through me. ‘Ready?’ he murmurs, and I nod. He slides a finger in slowly, my body reacting to the unfamiliar intrusion by clenching my walls around him, and he doesn’t move at all for a few moments, letting me getting used to the unusual feeling.

‘Does it hurt?’ he asks, pressing soothing kisses to my neck again, and I shake my head. ‘Just feels a bit weird,’ I reply, feeling his laugh against my skin. ‘You’re so tight, baby. Can’t wait to stretch you out, make you feel so good, y/n,’ he whispers, starting to slowly move his finger back and forth.

The feeling soon starts to become pleasurable rather than weird, my walls not clenching as hard around his finger, and he takes advantage of it, sliding in another finger with the first.

‘Mase,’ I whisper softly. ‘Too much?’ he asks, and I give my body a few moments to get used to the feeling before shaking my head. ‘Such a good girl for me, babe,’ he murmurs, slowly thrusting his fingers into me, letting my body get accustomed to the burning stretch. My eyes fall shut, arousal gushing out onto his hand, causing faint wet sounds that make my skin heat up.

‘Feels good?’ ‘So good,’ I whimper softly, nails digging into his strong thighs as he curls his fingers inside me. The intense pleasure makes me clamp my thighs shut around his hand, the boy chuckling softly. ‘You can take it, babe, come on,’ he says soothingly as he pushes my legs apart again, hooking one leg with his own to keep it restrained from meeting the other.

‘You’re so sensitive, baby,’ he says amusedly, curling his fingers again and brushing a spot inside me that makes me whine pathetically. And then he begins to rub his palm against my clit with each movement of his hand, my head falling back onto his shoulder and my back arching, a quiet moan escaping my lips.

My body squirms between his legs, but he holds me firmly in place and keeps my legs apart, fingers continuing to thrust into me at a gradually quickening pace, whine after whimper slipping out from my lips as Mason whispers filth into my ear, making me lose my mind.

‘Look at you, babe. Grinding on my hand. Does it feel good, baby?’ he asks cockily and, sure enough, when I force myself to open my eyes, I see that I’m grinding against his fingers unconsciously, each movement of my hips resulting in his hand brushing my clit and sending a gentle wave of pleasure through me.

‘So good, Mase,’ I moan softly, the boy cursing at the sound, kissing and biting at my neck to leave marks, making my eyes flutter shut once again. ‘You sound so pretty for me, babe. So pretty. Gonna make you feel so good,’ he whispers against my skin, but the words barely register, my focus on the unfamiliar feeling of my stomach tightening.

‘Mase, I think I’m close,’ I say breathlessly, and he lets out a gentle laugh against my neck. ‘I know, babe, I can feel it.’ ‘I didn’t think… girls really cum from their first time,’ I say, words broken up with a moan prompted from his fingers spreading apart to open me up. ‘Girls don’t cum from their first time if the person they’re with is shit as sex. Lucky for you…’ he grins against my skin, thumb pressing onto my clit, and I let out a loud moan, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘Fuck, I need to taste you,’ he says, sliding his fingers out of me and lifting them to his mouth, licking my arousal off his skin. ‘Mmm, you taste so good,’ he says appreciatively, satisfaction filling me. I’m glad to hear my vagina’s to his taste.

‘Lie back for me, babe,’ he says gently as he gets up, moving to lie on his stomach further down the bed. I rest my head on one of the pillows, looking down at him as his hands slide up my legs, fingers hooking around the waistband of my pants. ‘Can I?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slowly pulling the material down my legs before throwing it over his shoulder.

He pushes my legs apart slowly, revealing my soaking wet core to him, and his lips part in disbelief, eyes darkening as they focus between my legs. ‘Fuck. Such a pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me,’ he murmurs, collecting up my wetness with two fingers, the contact making me clench. He lifts his fingers to my lips this time, and I open my mouth, taking in his fingers and tasting myself on them.

‘Doesn’t your pussy taste so good, babe?’ he grins as I lick his fingers clean of my own arousal, and I nod, feeling even wetter at how dirty he is. ‘Could eat you all night,’ he says, wrapping his arms around my legs to lift them over his shoulders, pulling me close so his face is mere millimetres from my core.

He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he presses his tongue flat against my folds before swiping it upwards, a soft moan escaping my lips. He starts with slow and gentle licks across my folds, the steady stimulation making my brain fuzzy with pleasure, but he can’t keep himself controlled for very long. He pushes his finger into me again, my walls clamping down at the suddenness of it as I gasp, the slight pain soothed by his tongue flicking across my clit.

The sensation is so foreign but so good – he alternates between thrusting a finger into me whilst sucking at my clit, and poking his tongue between my folds whilst drawing slow circles on my clit with his thumb. I grip onto his locks, my high-pitched whimpers becoming more frequent, and I can’t decide whether I want to pull him closer or push him away, not sure whether it’s not enough or too much.

He decides for me, pulling me so close I’m surprised he can breathe. He begins practically making out with my pussy, the loud slurping sounds so obscene and crude that it only makes me wetter, my moans more and more desperate with every movement of his lips. His nose nuzzles against my clit as he eats me out, the irregular waves of pleasure sending my body into overdrive, the knot getting tighter and tighter as I squirm beneath him. He tries to keep me still with one forearm pressed down across my stomach, the other hand squeezing my boob and tugging gently at my nipple.

‘I’m think I’m gonna…’ I breathe out between moans, clenching sporadically as my body twitches, and I can feel him grinning against my folds. He replaces his mouth with two fingers pushing into me, thrusting into me fast and hard.

‘Gonna cum for me, y/n? It’s gonna feel so good, baby, just let go. Cum for me, babe,’ he murmurs softly, voice just about discernible over my loud moaning, and when he flicks his tongue across my clit before sucking it into his mouth as he curls his fingers inside me, I feel the knot in my stomach undo itself.

I cry out his name as my vision blurs, walls clenching around his fingers and holding them in place with an iron-like grip, thighs closing around his head. He works me through my orgasm with sucking gently on my clit, his free hand groping my boob, providing me with a gentle bliss in comparison to the intense pleasure burning low in my stomach.

When I feel myself coming back down from my high, I let out a sigh, body relaxing into the bed, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of me, a shiver racking through me. I just about manage to lift my head to watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, slipping the fingers covered in my cum between his lips, eyes closing as he lets out an appreciative groan.

‘You did so good for me, babe. Such a good girl, took it so well for me,’ he praises as he moves back up the bed, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his body. I feel something very stiff poking into my hip, getting wet again already at how hard he is.

‘How did that feel?’ he asks with his lips pressed against my forehead. ‘Good.’ ‘Just good?’ he chuckles, and I laugh. ‘Yeah. I’d be exaggerating if I said anything else,’ I joke, and he tilts my head up so our eyes meet, his eyebrow raising. ‘Your moaning said otherwise, babe,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes. He starts mocking my sounds and I hit him gently, hiding my head in his shoulder out of embarrassment.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking. It was sexy, y/n. Nothing’s ever turned me on more. You can feel the proof of that,’ he says drily, and I laugh softly, looking down at the tent in his Calvins. The thought that I caused that gives me a little thrill. I trace my finger down his v-line slowly, stopping when I reach the waistband of his underwear.

‘Can I?’ I ask, looking up at him, and he nods with a small grin. I slip my hand beneath the waistband, taking his cock into my hand, the thick and heavy weight so unfamiliar to me. I gently tug on it out of curiosity, watching his face for his reaction, and his eyes flutter shut, veins protruding from his neck. I move my hand up to the tip, feeling pre-cum leaking out, and I lift my hand to my mouth to taste it, the boy watching me with dark eyes.

‘Fuck, you’re a dirty little slut, babe,’ he murmurs as the subtly salty taste coats my tongue. ‘Tastes bad, doesn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, and I laugh. ‘Not bad. Just… not good either,’ I admit, the boy chuckling. ‘I’ll start drinking pineapple juice every day, just for you,’ he promises with a grin, and I clutch my heart, pretending I’m honoured.

‘How long’s it been since you last had sex?’ I ask after a few seconds of silence, my fingertips tracing his muscles again. ‘Since before our relationship started. Probably a couple days before we signed the contract. I don’t remember exactly,’ he admits, and I nod, processing the information.

‘So you must be really worked up then,’ I say, looking up at him, and he laughs softly. ‘I’m worked up, but it’s because you’re lying next to me naked and looking at me with your big eyes,’ he says with a small smile. ‘Surely the amount of time has an effect as well?’ ‘Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve… been frustrated for 11 months,’ he says, and I realise belatedly what he means.

‘Oh. You mean you’ve masturbated?’ I ask, the boy laughing, probably at how innocent of a question it was. I should’ve known really – he wouldn’t have gone nearly a year without an orgasm. ‘Yes, babe, I have. Regularly. It’s good for you,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘That’s why you do it?’ ‘Well… no.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘The reason anyone masturbates. To keep myself… satisfied when I’m frustrated but can’t get any,’ he says, and I don’t reply for a few moments.

‘Do you watch porn when you do it?’ I ask out of curiosity, an amused smile on his lips at my innocent questioning. ‘Sometimes.’ ‘Why only sometimes?’ I ask, and he hesitates to speak. ‘My answer might make you uncomfortable.’ ‘It won’t,’ I say firmly, part of me already knowing what he’s going to say, desperate to hear it out loud.

‘The other times, I think of you. I’d go home hard almost every time I saw you, whether it was our good days or our bad days. Making you happy turns me on. Arguing with you turns me on. You smiling at me, rolling your eyes at me, saying my name nicely or not-so-nicely. All of it turns me on. Every single thing about you is so sexy to me, y/n, and just being in your presence makes me want you so much,’ he says quietly, my entire body burning with longing for him, satisfaction settling in my heart at hearing how much he’s attracted to me.

‘If you had to name one thing about me that turns you on the most, what would it be? Just for future reference,’ I say, unable to hold back my smile, and he laughs, the smile on his face so beautiful that my heart aches. ‘I can’t name one thing, babe. It’s everything about you. But… I do love seeing you in a Chelsea shirt with my name on the back,’ he admits, and I wait for him to elaborate.

‘I’m possessive, so I love seeing my name on you and knowing that any guy that looks at you will see it. They can look at how beautiful you are, but they can’t touch because you’re mine,’ he says, my butterflies going wild at hearing him claim me. ‘And I’d think of fucking you from behind while you’re wearing it and seeing my name on your back,’ he adds on shamelessly, my stomach turning with desire. Now that he’s said it, I want him to do just that after his next match.

‘Sorry. That was too much,’ he says, thinking I’m silent because I’m uncomfortable, and I shake my head. ‘It wasn’t. It makes me feel good that you want me,’ I say, a small grin on his lips. ‘Seems like I’m good at making you feel good,’ he smirks, the double entendre not going unnoticed, and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a smile.

‘You’re far too confident for a guy that hasn’t actually fucked me yet,’ I say pointedly, his eyes widening. ‘You really don’t want a gentleman, do you? I was just giving you a chance to recover from your first ever orgasm before I give you another one,’ he mutters amusedly. ‘Wasn’t much to recover from,’ I joke, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Your thighs trying to crush my head said different, babe. So did your pussy trying to break my finger,’ he reminds me, and I fall silent, not able to come up with a retort.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ he chuckles, getting up from the bed and picking up his jeans. I panic for a second, thinking he’s about to go, but he just gets a condom out of the pocket. ‘Are you sure you still want me to fuck you, babe? You can tell me if you’re tired or not ready or you just don’t want to,’ he says softly, and I shake my head. ‘I still want you, Mase,’ I say quietly, crawling to the edge of the bed beside where he stands, taking one of his hands into mine and pulling him close.

‘But I want you raw,’ I whisper, taking the condom out of his hand, and he lets out a little sigh. ‘y/n-’ ‘Please. I want you to cum in me,’ I say softly, looking up at him through my lashes, and he groans. ‘Fuck, y/n, don’t say that.’ ‘It’s true, though. I want it in me, not in a condom.’

‘And what if you get pregnant?’ ‘I won’t, I’m on the pill!’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Is it 100% effective?’ ‘Well… no, but Isla and Steph are both on it and they’ve never gotten pregnant,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘So just because they have sex without condoms, you want to as well?’ ‘No, I want to because I want to feel you, without anything separating us, and I want you to cum inside me,’ I say, and he looks skywards like he needs help from God to have this conversation with me.

‘If you really don’t want to, that’s fine. But-’ ‘No, I want to. I just don’t want to risk anything happening to you,’ he murmurs, lifting a hand to caress my face gently. ‘Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m consistent with the pill, so I won’t get pregnant. And you’re clean, right?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘So it’s gonna be fine then. Please, Masey,’ I say with a pout, and he finally gives in.

‘Okay, fine. If my dirty girl wants it raw, that’s what she’ll get,’ he grins, my core throbbing at the thought of him cumming inside me. ‘Lie back for me,’ he instructs and I do as he says, on full display for him, his eyes trawling over my body appreciatively. ‘You’re so perfect, baby,’ he praises, taking his boxers off, and my heart pounds at the sight of him stood there in all his glory. Flawlessly toned body, dark ink on fair skin, and a cock that makes my pussy wet.

‘That’s… not gonna fit in me,’ I breathe out, the boy laughing as he climbs over me, his lips meeting mine in soft kiss. ‘It will, babe.’ ‘Will it hurt?’ I ask nervously, and he doesn’t answer for a moment. ‘Maybe. But we’ll go slowly, and I’ll stop if you ask me to. Okay?’ he murmurs, and I nod, taking a deep breath to try and calm myself.

He kisses me again, turning us over so my body weight rests entirely on him, his hands trailing up and down my body. We both gradually get more and more worked up, moaning against each other’s mouths, our hands fervent and desperate on each other. My core is impossibly wet, my arousal soaking his skin too, and when he reaches a hand between my legs, slipping his finger between my folds, a pornographic moan escapes my lips, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘You’re definitely wet enough. Are you still sure you want this?’ ‘Yes, Mase, please. Need you to fuck me,’ I murmur against his neck, the boy wasting no time in turning us over, on his knees between my legs. He runs the tip up and down my folds, soaking his cock in my arousal, and my walls clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside.

‘What’s your safe word?’ he tests me. ‘Clueless.’ ‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, the praise making me smile to myself, and I watch as he pumps his cock a couple times, his eyes fluttering shut at the stimulation. He’s so fucking sexy – just the sight of him like this makes me feel like I could cum.

‘Legs around my waist, babe,’ he says as he moves to hover over me, and I wrap my legs around him, hooking them together at the ankles. ‘Ready?’ he asks, and I nod, heart warm at the gentle kiss he presses to my lips.

I feel the head of his cock running along my folds again before he starts to push inside me. The pain of the stretch catches me off guard – I didn’t expect it to hurt like this – and I gasp, my entire body tensing. ‘Hurts?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I squeak out, gripping on to his shoulders, and he leans down to press comforting kisses to my jaw. ‘Shall I stop?’ he asks against my skin, and I shake my head. It hurts but I still want him.

‘The tip’s usually the worst bit and that’s nearly in. You’re doing so well,’ he whispers soothingly, pushing further in bit by bit, the pain throbbing between my legs. He keeps whispering praise and encouragement in my ear, telling me I’m taking him so well and I’m being such a good girl for him, and it makes me even wetter, letting him push in all the way with less and less pain.

‘Well done, babe, you did so well,’ he says softly once he’s all the way in, kissing me sweetly as my body tries to get used to the unfamiliar intrusion. Despite my best efforts to keep my body relaxed, my walls keep clenching around him, as though they’re trying to force him out.

‘I know you don’t mean to, but- fuck. Your clenching is not doing me any favours,’ he murmurs with his head buried in my neck, and I try my best to stop, feeling bad for him. He hasn’t had sex for almost a year and now that he’s finally in me, he’s staying still so he can let me adjust. This is probably torture for him.

‘You know you’re the first girl that I’ve not used a condom with?’ he says against my skin, my heart singing at the news that I am one of his firsts after all. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah. And I hope to God that you decide to keep me around after tonight, because I cannot go back to condoms after being in you raw and you’re the only person I trust to fuck without one,’ he admits, the butterflies going wild again.

‘Of course I’m gonna keep you around. Our contract doesn’t expire for another month yet,’ I joke, the boy laughing against my neck, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘What about after that? Will you sign the renewal?’ ‘Will you?’ I ask, wanting to hear his answer first. ‘I’d rather have a real relationship with you instead,’ he says, a happy sigh escaping my lips, the sound making him laugh.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asks, and I realise that the conversation distracted me from the uncomfortable feeling from before. Now my body’s already become accustomed to him inside me. It doesn’t hurt anymore – I just feel full.

‘I feel okay. You can move now,’ I say, and he lifts his head up to meet my eyes. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm. I’m ready,’ I breathe out, kissing him again. ‘I’m warning you, though, babe. I don’t think I’m gonna last very long.’ ‘That’s okay, Mase.’ ‘No, but seriously. I might cum before you.’ ‘It’s fine, Mason, don’t worry. I’m not gonna get pissed off at you for cumming first,’ I laugh, the boy nodding with a small smile.

He starts moving, slowly pulling partway out before pushing back in gently, both of us sharply intaking breath at the feeling. It’s weird at first, and a little bit painful, but as his pace becomes more steady and his thrusts become more forceful, the pain ebbs away into pleasure.

‘Does it feel good?’ ‘Feels so good, Mase,’ I whimper, his skin so hot against mine, hands pressing into the bed on either side of my head. ‘Fuck, you’re so tight, babe,’ he curses, and it really does feel like he’s just about fitting in me, cock dragging against my walls and sending blissful waves of pleasure through me.

I can feel the way he’s restraining himself from pounding into me the way he must want to, instead rolling his hips against mine in slow and shallow thrusts, body moving against my clit, making me clench around him unintentionally.

‘Babe, you really need to stop clenching before I cum,’ he warns me, and I widen my eyes innocently. ‘I’m not doing it on purpose, Mase. I can’t help it. Just love how you feel inside me,’ I murmur, the boy groaning as his dick twitches.

‘Fuck, I’m so close,’ he murmurs, the whiny tone of his voice making me gush around him, and I decide I need him to cum in me right now. I dig my heels into his back as he thrusts into me, keeping him buried deep inside, and I clench around him, pulling his head down so I can whisper in his ear.

‘Cum for me, Mase. Wanna feel your cum in me,’ I breathe out against his ear, and it pushes him over the edge, the boy letting out a moan into my neck as he hits his high, his cock pulsing in me as he cums, his release deep in me. He lets out heavy breaths and gentle grunts, lifting his head up and pressing a kiss to my lips once he’s done.

‘I’ve never cum that quick in my life.’ ‘Yeah, right. Starting to think you’re a two-pump chump,’ I tease, his mouth dropping open. ‘It’s nearly been a year-’ ‘I know, I’m joking,’ I laugh, kissing him again. We’ve kissed so many times tonight but every single one feels like a first kiss, filling my body with so much happiness.

‘Did I hurt you?’ ‘It hurt a bit at the start but then it felt good,’ I say shyly, Mason grinning. I can feel his cock softening inside me, not stretching me out so much now. ‘If you ever let me fuck you again, I promise I’ll make you cum first,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Well, as it stands, there’s not much making me want to sleep with you again,’ I joke, Mason rolling his eyes.

‘You’re never gonna move on from this, are you?’ ‘Nope. You’ll be hearing about it for the rest of your life.’ ‘Rest of my life? Who says I wanna keep you around that long?’ ‘Things in your life clearly don’t last very long then,’ I fire back, Mason bursting into laughter, prompting me to laugh too. Sex always felt so scary to me, so serious and real, but this has been perfect, with all the laughing and joking and tenderness.

‘You still want me to fuck you?’ ‘Can you?’ ‘Yeah, I’ll get hard again in a couple minutes.’ ‘That quickly?’ I ask in surprise, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m in bed with the sexiest girl on Earth, and she’s naked and has my cock in her. I’m surprised I’m not already hard again,’ he says as though it’s obvious, my heart melting at hearing him compliment me again. I don’t think I’ll ever doubt myself again after this.

‘I do still want you to fuck me. I… don’t want today to be over yet. It’s been perfect,’ I say, the boy smiling softly. ‘I’d make every single day like this for you if you asked for it,’ he says, and even though it’d never be possible, he says it with complete sincerity, as though he really would want to. ‘You don’t have to take me on the best date ever and buy me lavish presents every day. But this part would be nice to do every day,’ I say coyly, Mason laughing gently.

‘Okay, babe. I’ll fuck you every day if that’s what you want,’ he promises me, and I feel myself getting wetter at the thought of him coming home to me waiting for him to fuck me. ‘Is that what my dirty girl wants?’ he asks, hand tightening on my jaw, holding my head in place so he can stare deep into my eyes, and I just about manage to nod in his tight grip. He’s giving me whiplash with the way he’s switching the mood.

‘Want me to come home to you and fuck you after you’ve been waiting all day? Because you know I would, baby. If you’re in the kitchen baking me something sweet, I’ll lie you across the counter and eat something even sweeter. If you’re watching TV in the living room, I’ll slip my fingers into your pants and make you cum all over my hand like a good little slut. If you’re in the dance studio, I’ll bend you over in front of the mirror so you can watch how pretty you look with my cock in you. If you’re recording, I’ll sit you on my cock and record all your pretty moans so you can listen to them when I’m away and remember how good I make you feel. I’ll fuck you after my matches and after your shows when we’re both all worked up and desperate for each other. I’ll fuck you with my fingers in the car after our dates, and then I’ll flip up your skirt as soon as we’re inside and fuck you against the front door. I’m yours now, babe, and you can have me whenever and wherever,’ he says lowly as he kisses along my jaw, his words making me moan softly. The thought of having him in all those different ways sends a fresh wave of arousal through me – I want him in every single one of those situations and my life won’t be complete if I don’t get it.

‘Want me to fuck my cum back into you?’ ‘Please fuck me, Mase. I need it,’ I beg pathetically, the boy grinning against my skin. He sits up on his knees again, pulling out of me and focusing his eyes between my legs. I can feel his cum dripping out of me a few moments later, his eyes darkening and smirk growing at the sight. I reach down and scoop some of it up, lifting my hand to my mouth and swiping my tongue across one fingertip, able to taste both of us. He watches me with a heavy focus, so I decide to help him along to getting hard again.

I reach my hand back down, his cum still on my fingers, and I think about pushing it back into me, but my nails are too long for me to put my fingers inside myself, so I rub it across my clit instead. I curse under my breath, keeping my eyes on his face as I smear his release across my folds and my clit, rolling my hips to meet the movements of my hand. He looks desperate for me, eyes so dark they’re almost black and lips parted to let out heavy breaths.

‘You’re so fucking hot, babe, oh, my God,’ he groans, hand fisting his cock, and he’s already hard again, abs clenching at the stimulation he’s giving himself. ‘Mase, fuck me, please,’ I whimper, still rubbing slow circles at my clit, and it’s like my begging knocks him back into action. He moves my hand away, replacing it with his own, and even though he matches my pace, it just feels so much better, my back arching under his touch.

He pulls off my socks, both of us now completely naked, and he lifts one of my legs to rest my ankle on his shoulder. He’s still resting on his knees, and he kisses the inside of my ankle as he buries himself deep inside me with much less resistance this time. I feel so much more exposed without his body covering mine, but the infatuation in his gaze as it travels across my body makes me feel confident rather than uncomfortable.

‘Can I move?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slipping his hands beneath my back to lift my body up from the bed slightly. ‘Use your safe word if I’m being too rough,’ he says, the only bit of warning before he pulls almost all the way out before slamming all the way back in. There’s slight pain but it only adds to the pleasure, my eyes rolling back as I let out a high-pitched moan.

‘Fuck, baby, your moans are so fucking pretty. My pretty baby sounds so desperate and good for me,’ he murmurs, moving my body back and forth to meet his strong thrusts, his cock so deep it feels like it’s in my stomach. His hands are tight at my waist, holding me in a bruising grip, and his thrusts are just as forceful, but the kisses he presses to my ankles and legs are so soft and tender in comparison, my mind in a mess at the conflicting sensations.

He's much more focused on my pleasure now, watching my face intently to see my reactions as he fucks into me at a steady pace, the sounds of my moaning and skin slapping against skin drowning out the gentle music in the background. My body’s so stunned at the unfamiliar feelings, but the thing that makes me squirm the most is the look on his face as he watches me, a mix of cockiness, affection and intense desire.

‘You’re taking it so fucking well, y/n. My pretty girl loves having my cock, isn’t that right?’ he murmurs, voice strained with the effort of fucking me, and I can’t even respond, just moaning his name desperately. I feel the knot in my stomach starting to tighten as I watch his muscles rippling with every movement, the blood vessels in his body corded tight.

‘Getting close?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod, the boy adjusting his position so he’s lying over me again, one leg slung around his waist with the other bent up between our bodies. He fucks into me with renewed energy, the new position meaning the head of his cock is brushing against a spot inside me that makes my eyes tear up, and his grunts of effort are directly against my ear, driving me wild.

‘Fuck, Mase, feels so good,’ I moan in a high-pitched tone against his ear, the boy cursing, his pace increasing after hearing the desperation in my voice. He rests his weight on one forearm, his other hand slipping between our bodies to draw harsh circles at my clit. It’s all too much – his cock hitting the soft spot inside me, his fingers rubbing at my clit, his noises in my ear – and I feel myself hurtling towards my high.

‘Is my pretty baby gonna cum on my cock for me? Come on, babe, you’re so close. Cum around me like a good little slut, baby,’ he murmurs against my ear, thrusting particularly hard as he presses down on my clit, and I cry out his name as my orgasm washes over me. My walls clamp down around him, so tight he can’t move, so he gets me through my orgasm by rubbing harshly at my clit, sucking bruises onto my neck as my nails dig into his back, scratching lines across his skin.

My walls loosen around him once I start coming down, and he takes the opportunity to start fucking into me again, chasing his own orgasm. The overstimulation is too much, my body still twitching with aftershocks, body squirming beneath his.

‘Come on, baby, you can take it. Be a good girl for me,’ he breathes out, words broken up with curses and moans, and despite the tears running down my face, I want to do as he says. So I do my best to get him there, engaging what sanity I have left to meet his thrusts, clenching around him, kissing and biting along his jaw.

‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum, babe,’ he groans, burying himself deep in me as he moans my name, filling me with his release again. He thrusts into me slowly to get himself through his orgasm before pulling out when he’s done, cum dripping out of me.

‘You’re such a good girl for me, baby,’ he murmurs, collecting up the cum that’s trickling across my skin before pushing it back into me with a two fingers, prompting an ‘mmm’ sound from low in my throat, legs closing around his hand.

‘Let me clean you up,’ he says, half to himself, and he gets up off the bed and pulls his boxers back on before heading into the en suite. My body relaxes back into the duvet, skin damp with sweat and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and I focus on the music so I don’t drift off to sleep, my body exhausted.

I can feel Mason’s hands on me as he cleans me up with a damp towel but I don’t register anything he says and I can’t focus my eyes on him either, lids sliding shut after a few seconds. When they reopen, it’s clearly been a while – Mason’s pulled the covers over my body and put a fresh pair of pants on me. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand and a bottle of water beside him. All the presents he got me are sitting on my vanity table, the bouquet of flowers on my bedside table, and I admire them with a warm feeling in my chest.

‘Mase,’ I say, voice hoarse, and he turns to look at me with a smile. ‘She’s back,’ he grins, lifting one of my hands to press a kiss to the skin, contentment filling me. ‘You okay?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I hum in response as he hands me a bottle of water, watching as I gulp it down.

‘Why are you sitting there?’ ‘I thought it was a bit… presumptuous to get into bed with you without asking,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You were just inside me.’ ‘Still.’ ‘Mason, I don’t have a problem with my boyfriend getting into bed with me,’ I say with a small smile, and he tilts his head amusedly.

‘I’m not your boyfriend. Well, I’m your fake boyfriend. I haven’t asked if I can be your real boyfriend yet,’ he reminds me, and I roll my eyes. ‘You don’t have to ask.’ ‘No, babe. You told me you dreamed of romance in a relationship, and I want to be the man of your dreams, so I’m gonna ask, with a big gesture and everything,’ he says, and I pout.

‘So I have to wait?’ I ask, and he shakes his head with a grin, reaching over and plucking the single pink rose out of the bouquet, handing it to me. When I hold it, I realise it’s not real, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘It’s a forever rose. There was a card that I wrote to go with it but I chickened out and didn’t give it to you,’ he says, picking up his jeans from where they are on the floor, fishing out a note and handing it to me.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y/n. You’ll be in my heart until the last rose dies. Yours forever, Mason x

My eyes fill with tears, the boy laughing as he moves to sit beside me, pulling me into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ‘You’re so cute, babe,’ he murmurs, and I shake my head. ‘No, you’re so cute! That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,’ I reply tearfully, Mason stroking my hair with a soft hand.

‘Look at the rose again,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, inspecting it. As I move it, I notice the light glinting off something between the petals. I pick it out with my nails, gasping at the sparkling pink sapphire set into a silver ring. ‘It matches the jewellery set. It’s a promise ring,’ he says, taking it from me and slipping it onto my left ring finger.

‘A promise for what?’ ‘A promise that I’ll replace it with an engagement ring and then a wedding ring, if that’s what you want. A promise that I’ll love you forever, y/n,’ he says softly, and I turn to look at him with wide eyes. ‘Love?’ ‘What else, babe? Since the moment I saw you, I knew. You were gonna change my life, and now I can’t imagine it without you and all your pink. I love you, y/n,’ he whispers, and I let out a teary laugh, pulling him in for a kiss.

‘You still haven’t asked me,’ I say suddenly, breaking apart from him, and he laughs. ‘y/n, will you be my girlfriend?’ ‘Yes!’ I exclaim, pulling him back into a kiss. ‘I love you too,’ I whisper into the kiss, feeling his lips curve up into a smile. ‘Are you sure?’ he asks, breaking away from me, and I laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve only just realised it, but I know it now. I love you, Mason Mount,’ I smile, the boy pulling me into his arms with a chuckle. ‘I love you more, my clueless girl.’

#mason mount #mason mount smut #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #chelsea fc

2K notes · View notes

harrysthighertat · 1 year

Text

Valentine’s Day

summary: you come home from a long, shitty day of work to a Valentine's Day surprise from Harry.

warnings: fluff and implied smut

word count: 2.3k

a/n: I'm a little nervous to post this cause this is the first blurb I've ever written. I really enjoyed writing it tho and I can definitely see myself writing more of them in the future, so I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback. sorry if it ends a little abruptly, it's way past midnight and my brain was fried by the end of this. but I hope you still enjoy it! :)

—

It's 7.30PM when you finally park your car in front of you and Harry's shared apartment. You let out a sigh while turning the engine off. No matter how much you love your job, the extra work, stress and having to stay at the office late to cover for your coworker's maternity leave, was wearing you out and you felt incredibly guilty towards Harry for coming home so late and going to bed so soon after arriving home from work. The past few months have been a constant cycle of waking up at 5AM, being at the office until at least 7PM, having dinner with Harry while trying very hard to keep your eyes open and hold a conversation with him then going to bed straight after dinner and repeat.

Thus, you were incredibly grateful when Harry offered to not do anything special for Valentine's Day and make up for it when work wasn't so busy. It meant that you wouldn't have to lose any of your much needed sleep on getting him a gift or preparing a surprise for him. And Harry deserved better than getting a half assed gift after how much he's been there for you during this stressful time. Every evening he insists on packing your lunch for the next day, he wakes up at the crack of dawn with you just so he can kiss you goodbye and wish you luck at work and he leaves sweet little handwritten notes everywhere saying how much he loves you and how proud he is of you, just to name a few out of a million things he does for you. You wanted to show him your gratitude with the most special surprise because he deserved nothing less, but unfortunately it had to wait.

Although Harry missed spending quality time with you, especially on a day such as Valentine's Day, he knew that it was only a couple of days until your coworker was back at the office and he would get to spend his evenings loving on you again.

Earlier that day you had texted Harry notifying him that you'd have to stay at the office late again. You offered to grab some takeout on the way home, which had become a habit of yours over the past couple of months because of how bad you felt that Harry had to do the daily household chores and cook for both of you while also having work of his own and barely getting to spend time with you, but he told you not to worry about it.

You grab your stuff from the passenger seat and step out of your car onto the sidewalk. You walk up the couple of steps to your front door, unlock it and push the door open. As you enter the apartment, you're welcomed by the smell of homemade food and your body immediately relaxes. You put your keys in the basket on the side table in the hallway and place your bag underneath it. Then you shrug off your coat, put it on the hanger and change from your boots to a pair of warm, fuzzy slippers.

Once you've checked yourself in the mirror, you walk towards the noises coming from the kitchen. In the doorway to the kitchen you stop yourself and look at the scene in front of you in awe. Not only do you see your boyfriend, who’s putting away the kitchenware that he’s used while wearing a pink and red polka dot apron that his mom gifted him for Christmas last year with a nice, lightish green dress shirt and fitted dark green trousers underneath, but the dinner table is beautifully decorated with bordeaux red table runners, pink lit candles and a bottle of your favorite red wine.

The smell of food is even stronger here and you notice the tray in the oven. Homemade vegan lasagna. Your favorite. In the background Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is softly playing. The soothing music, comforting smell of your favorite homemade meal and the sight of the love of your life standing right in front of you is a heavenly combination and you feel tears welling up in your eyes from how good it feels to be home, especially after the long, shitty day you had at work.

You quickly blink the tears away and walk over to your boyfriend. As Harry hears you coming up from behind, he turns around. As soon as his eyes land on his lovie's face, a smile grows on his own. “Hi baby, I didn’t hear you come home. How was work? I missed you.” He grabs your hands, pulls you closer and softly pecks your lips.

You return the favor and say “Hi bub, work wasn't too great today." Harry can tell you've had a stressful day and you don't feel like talking about it, so he doesn't press on the topic. "I'm starting to understand my coworker." You say though. "If these were my usual tasks I would also get someone to impregnate me just to have an excuse to get a couple of months off." Harry bursts out laughing and your heart flutters in your chest at the sound of it.

You almost tear up again when you say "It feels good to be home. With you. Sorry I couldn't get home sooner." Harry squeezes your hand to reassure you that it's okay.

Then you gesture to the scene behind you. "What’s all this for though?” Harry turns around to see what you mean as if he hasn't spent half of the day in the kitchen to decorate and cook and make sure everything was perfect for when you got home.

“Well, I couldn’t not treat my girl on Valentine’s Day, so I thought I’d cook you your favorite meal and decorate the table so we can have a romantic candle lit dinner tonight and celebrate Valentine's Day just a bit.”

He then remembers the other surprise he got you that morning. “Oh and I got you something else, wait here…”. He walks out of the kitchen to where he hid his surprise from you, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

A few seconds later Harry returns with a gorgeous bouquet of red, pink and white tulips. He hands them to you as he says “Happy Valentine’s day, baby.” You hesitantly accept the bouquet. When you slowly bring the flowers to your nose and inhale, the flowers smell fresh, and soothing and heavenly and remind you of a warm, sunny day in spring. Then a frown grows on your face.

“What’s wrong? Do they smell bad?” Harry asks concerned.

“No, they smell lovely.” You answer, frown still present on your face.

“Do you not like tulips? Shit, I thought tulips were your favorite. But I should’ve listened to the sweet old man at the flower shop and got you the roses that he recommended for Valentine's Day. I’m really sorry, I can go back tomorrow and get you those.” He says, panic in his voice.

Your features soften a little. “No, they are my favorite and they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“What’s got you frowning then?”

You look down as you fumble with the flowers in your hand. “I- I just feel so bad. Everyone's out today celebrating their relationship, showering their partner with love while you barely even get to spend time with me because I leave for work so early and don't come home until the evening hours when I'm too tired to stay up for longer than an hour. I feel like such a bad partner. I didn’t even get you anything today."

"Hey, look at me." Harry says, as he grabs your hand with one of his and places the other on your chin to gently lift it so that you're looking at him. He moves his face a little closer to yours and kisses the place between your brows before moving down to your lips, placing a kiss on both of the corners of your mouth in hopes of removing the frown from your face.

"None of that. Of course I miss you, but I know how much you care about your work and I know that this is not forever. You've been working your ass off and I'm so proud of you. And I don't mind at all that you didn't get me anything today, baby. After all we said we weren’t going to do anything special today. We've got to feed ourselves wether you're busy or not and you know I love cooking, especially when it's for you. So I figured I'd cook you your favorite dinner just to make today a little more special. Plus you didn't think I made all of that lasagna just for you, right? I'm treating myself to a lovely dinner with the best company I could ever wish for too. Although if you did want to have the whole tray to yourself, I wouldn't mind either. Anything to make my baby happy. I just wanna take care of you and show you how proud I am of you for working so hard.” He rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand and kisses tip of your nose, then your left cheek, your right cheek and finally your mouth.

Then he pulls back to look at you again and you notice a smirk appear on Harry's face. "Besides, you didn't think I didn't notice my favorite lingerie set being gone from our underwear drawer this morning, did you?"

You try to suppress a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He's right though. You are wearing a red, lace lingerie set underneath your outfit that you specifically decided to wear today. It's the matching lingerie set that Harry got you on his birthday as he claimed it was more a present for himself. You'd been so tired and stressed it lately that your sex drive was low and it had been a while since you and Harry had been intimate with each other. Therefore you also hadn't been able to show Harry the lingerie set in action yet, but you had secretly been hoping to change that tonight.

When you were getting dressed this morning, Harry had pretended to still be asleep while peeking at you through his eyelashes.

Harry smiles and kisses your lips. Then he leaves a trail of soft little kissen from your mouth to your neck where he stays for a few seconds while his hands roam your body until he leans back to look at you with a teasing expression on his face. "Right, so you're not wearing anything special underneath this?"

You notice Harry's eyes have turned a darker shade of green. You look behind Harry at the timer on the oven to see how much time is left before the lasagna is ready. Enough time for a little teasing.

“Want to check for yourself?” You say as seductively as possible. Harry kisses you hard and you laugh into his mouth at how fast he moves to unbutton your top and almost gets his ring stuck on it in the process. As he's working on the last button of your blouse, a loud beeping noise startles both of you. The lasagna is ready. Harry drops his head to your shoulder and sighs in frustration.

You laugh at his dramatic reaction and pat him on his back. "Come on pretty boy, if we don't eat soon I will actually eat the whole tray myself 'cause I'm starving."

During dinner you catch Harry staring at your exposed cleavage a couple of times. You hadn't bothered buttoning your blouse again because you knew it would only be a matter of time until you wouldn't be wearing a top at all.

When Harry said he was too full for desert, which you knew was only an excuse to continue what you started right before dinner because desert was his favorite and he would always leave room for it, you decided to be an even bigger tease by insisting on having a piece of the cheesecake Harry bought for desert.

The second you finish your last bite, Harry's on your side of the table. He grabs your face in both hands and presses your lips together hard. He moves one hand down to the side of your ass and taps it to signal you to get up. Once you're up he guides you to sit at the edge of the table all while kissing you passionately. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he unbuttons the last button on your blouse, revealing the red, lace bra. He momentarily pulls back from kissing you to admire how stunning you look in his now new favorite lingerie set on you until he reattaches his lips to yours and lets his hand explore your body. After some time he starts kissing and sucking on your neck, leaving marks in different places. Harry hasn’t even touched you and you’re already a moaning mess for him. Finally he leaves a trail of kisses from your chest down to the top of your skirt. He uses his hands to bunch up your skirt around your waist and looks at you to check if you’re really okay with this. When you push his head back to your skin he laughs at your impatience and takes that as his cue to continue. He gives you one final look before his face disappears under your skirt.

It’s safe to say the lasagna wasn't the only thing that was eaten on that dinner table that night.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #valentine's day #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles x yn

511 notes · View notes

nymphoheretic · 1 year

Text

˜”*°•.˜”*°• Touch yourself for me •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Nymph: Late once again! But this is a gift for Winter @touyaz for Snow's @suyacho's valentines gift exchange! Sorry its short!

Synopsis: Your fiancé Touya "Dabi" Todoroki is away on a race, but a call from him turns into a little more.

Warnings: Guided masturbation , voice kink, ruined orgasms, phone sex, established relationships

Word count: ~.8k

Pairing: Dabi x fem!reader

Tags: @sailewhoremoon @babiefwuit @katsukichureadsrecs @tokyometronetwork @rinnori @bakugosbratx @awilddreamermain @angelltheninth @stygianoir

You really hated it whenever Dabi was gone for a race. You missed him so much whenever he was gone. Your fiancé, Touya Todoroki, known as Dabi the Cremator was the reigning champion of the Grand Prix.

He was away defending his title and unfortunately you were not allowed to come this time. You changed into your pajamas, which consisted of one of Dabi’s large shirts and a pair of panties. You laid on the bed and flipped on the TV, quickly turning it to the channel the race was on.

Your heart began to race when you spotted his sleek black car with chilling blue flames that curled into the number 26 on the sides. You cheered when you heard the announcer say that his car was in the lead by a lap and half with the other trailing behind.

Dabi was going to win! As the white flag was waved to signal the last lap, you watched as Dabi soared around the track, his car smoothly gliding along the curves. Your heart swelled with joy when the checkered flag was raised as his car flew past the finish line.

“YES!” you screamed, jumping to your feet on the bed and raising your hands above your head. As I was still cheering for your fiancé's victory, your phone rang. Without really looking at it, you answered rather annoyed, “Hello, what do you want? I’m trying to celebrate Dabi’s win!”

"Well, well, Dollface, is that anyway to greet your champion?”

A blush heated your face instantly at the sound of his gravelly voice. You quickly sat down on the bed and clenched your hands in your lap. You could feel yourself getting wet just from his voice. “D-Dabi..I thought you were still racing. I just saw you.”

"You know that I never race live on TV.” His voice lowered in tone, knowing it would send shivers down your body. He’d trained you to respond to his tone and he knew that you loved it whenever he growled in your ear over the phone. "Dollface, do you miss me?”

“What kind of question is that!” you yelled into the receiver. “You know damn well, I miss you!” you blinked when your phone buzzed with a notification that he was trying to video call with you. You realized that you were wearing one of his shirts and nothing else and your face grew even more hot. But you could not keep him waiting. Sighing, you pressed the button to accept the video chat. “Hi.” you said shyly.

Those chilling blue eyes of his narrowed slightly as he gauged your attire. “Damn, Doll, you must really miss me. You’re wearing one of my shirts. Does it smell like me? Does it feel like I’m wrapped around you?” His lips pulled up into a smirk as he watched you squirm around in your spot on the bed. Dabi knew that your little body must be aching for his touch. “Baby~” he purred out.

You jumped when he purred out your other petname as you felt a rush of heat flood your center. You rubbed your thighs together to ease the tension that was building up within you. “Dabi...I want you...”

“Baby, what do you want? Use your words or do you want me to tell you just how to touch yourself. How to touch that aching pussy of yours?” He sat back deeper into the chair he was sitting in, his pants becoming too tight. He pulled his zipper down to relieve some of the pressure. “You want to hear my voice while you imagine its my fingers fucking that slutty little hole of yours?”

You whimpered as you moved your hand down to your aching cunt. You needed him so much. I wanted to feel his fingers on you. "Dabi...please. Tell me what to do." you set the phone up on a pillow that gave him perfect view of your dripping pussy.

"Pull up my shirt and place it in your mouth." He instructed, pulling his dick out of his leather pants. His eyes watched as you did as you were told and his lips curled into a smile. You were always so obedient. He stroked his hand down the thick length. "Good girl..." Dabi purred. "Touch your clit. Just like that."

Another soft whine left my throat as I circled my sensitive flesh roughly. You used your other hand to twist and pull at your nipples. Fuck. "Dabi..." you said between the cloth in your teeth. “I...I...” you stammered, shifting your hands around and started to push two fingers into your clenching hole.

“Did I say you could fuck yourself on your fingers yet?” Dabi scolded, his eyes narrowing. He stopped stroking his cock and sighed as he tucked it away. “Now, you are going to have to wait until I return home to cum. You’d better not fucking touch yourself until then, Dollface."

You quickly removed your fingers, trying to get him to continue talking you through your orgasm, but it was to no avail. When he gets home. You'd better be ready.

#nymphomanic♡#dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #touya smut #dabi smut #touya x you #touya x reader #touya x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #todoroki toya x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha smut #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha dabi #bnha x reader #bnha smut

445 notes · View notes

hoedamn-eron · 2 months

Text

sweet talkin'

Marc, in the throes of a Valentine's panic, receives your gift.

Warnings: 18+. Merely for the message on the chocolate having ✨ suggestive themes ✨. Worries of not feeling enough (Marc spirals a little bit). No mentions of Jake or Steven, or Khonshu, but it doesn't mean they're not there 👀. Not proofread, as usual, so there will be mistakes. Word count: 1,586 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

For the love of God, please go and take a look at Salty Mail on Insta.

You were a very emotional person.

Well, no, that’s not strictly true, but you have no problem in expressing yourself. You tell people how you’re feeling if you feel like the moment needs it.

Which is why you find Marc Spector to be such an enigma.

When you first met Marc, it was a struggle to detect what he was feeling. He was friendly to you, of course, but you weren’t even sure how he actually felt about you until he’d asked you out. Even throughout your dates he was always stoic, but now, after all this time together, you like to think that you read him pretty well. Now you can tell when he was feeling stressed, or going through a tough time, but every time you tried to get him to talk to you about it, he always ended up pushing you away, telling you he’ll deal with it.

He did eventually open up about his past (sans Jake, and Steven, and the Big Bird), and that explained quite a lot. Because of this, you’ve come to accept that he just had some issues he needed to work through, and that was okay.

The thing was, he had no problem listening to your gripes and whines, since you were such an open book. But what Marc seemed to have a problem with was when you tried to tell him about how you felt about him, how amazing he was, and how you practically worshipped the ground he walked on. He always seemed to curl in on himself when you did, and it broke your heart to see how he didn’t see how great he was.

It didn’t make what you said about him any less true. You’d mentioned going to a therapist, and you were fully supportive of him, telling him about how much it would benefit him. He still wasn’t set on the idea though. He didn’t seem all that thrilled about it, but at least he was thinking about it.

Now, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Marc had been thinking about it all week. He wasn’t sure what your stance was on it, you’d never really spoken about it before, but he was sure you’d mention it at some point during the day. It was your first one together after all.

He was thinking of just getting you some flowers, and your favourite treats, but he already does that for you on a regular basis.

Maybe you could go out to dinner? You’d mentioned you wanted to try out that fancy new place a few streets over. Oh but it was too late for that, he’d be lucky if he could book a table on Valentine’s Day.

He was so caught up in his head, he hadn’t even noticed you placing a plate of pancakes, with a side of fruits, in front of him, only coming to when you were giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re a million miles away, are you okay?” you ask, your brow furrowed lightly, stroking his hair.

“Yeah, sorry,” Marc said, giving you a small smile as he looks down at the plate. “Looks great, baby.”

As he tucks in, you make yourself a plate. “I’ll be home for 5pm, we can check out that new TV show you wanted to watch.”

Marc nodded, a mouthful of pancakes and syrup. He chewed quickly before swallowing. “Sounds good.”

“Oh, and I have a parcel coming today. Can you just leave it on the side for when I get back?”

Marc nodded again, giving you a small smile. “No problem.”

You finish your breakfasts, talking about Marc’s plans for the day, which included a few errands he’d been neglecting (his favourite jumper had been at the dry cleaners for weeks; they’d rang him every other day trying to get him to collect it), and clearing up your plates. After you dressed for work and Marc was washing the dishes, you leave a kiss for Marc that made him want to drag you back to bed, intending to keep you there all day, but you managed to pull away from him with a giggle before telling him you would see him later, and you left for work.

Then he was left alone in your flat.

As he continued to do the dishes, the silence brought back the earlier anxiousness about the stupid holiday, causing his brow to furrow and his palms to become clammy. It was just a hallmark holiday, why was he getting soworked up about it? You hadn’t said anything to him about it, you both hadn’t even made plans to go out, so why was he panicking? Obviously, it must just be another day to you.

But what if you were expecting him to surprise you with something?

He shakes his head. No. You had no issues telling him what you wanted. You would have asked if he wanted to make plans.

Shaking his head, suddenly feeling angry with himself, leaving a bitter, acidic taste in his mouth, he abandons the remaining dishes, draining the water. Marc wipes his hands dry on a tea towel before looking around your kitchen, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He needed to get out. A walk will do him some good…he needed to go to the dry cleaners anyway. He could pick up some stuff from the shop and make you dinner, just the two of you, in your flat. At least do something for Valentine’s Day.

Yeah, he’ll do that.

As he walks around the streets of London, seeing all the sickly red and pink hearts decorating the shop windows, he starts to wonder to himself; how the fuck he managed to have you. You could have had anyone, and you wanted to be with him. He was a mess, a broken man, he didn’t deserve good things, he didn’t deserve you.

It was almost as if he was on autopilot, making his way to the dry cleaners, where they gave him an earful about late collections (he paid the fee without saying a word), and he went to Tesco to pick up some ingredients, and just to top up your cupboards (he noticed you were running out of coffee and your favourite biscuits). He soon made it back to your flat, bags in hand, when he noticed a simple white package on the floor, the shape of a thin rectangle.

Shit. He’d forgotten about that. Thank God the postman could just slip it through your letterbox.

He puts the bags on the kitchen counters, tossing his dry cleaning over your dining table before picking up the package. He was about to toss it onto your side table when he noticed that it wasn’t addressed to you…it was addressed to him.

His brow furrowed. Why would he have something addressed to him go to your place?

He stared at the parcel. It didn’t feel heavy; actually, it barely weighed anything. But it must be something, since you asked him to take it in for you. Maybe it wasn’t for him, your autofill might have put in the wrong name when you ordered it. It was your property; he shouldn’t look at it.

He placed it down on the side table, before he started unpacking the shopping. Not long after, his phone vibrated, signalling a text (it could only be from you). He takes out his phone, before his brow furrowed reading it.

Did you like my gift?

Oh shit, it was for him then.

Marc glanced at the parcel again, then made his way over, picking it up. He shook it lightly, before he slowly opened it. He sauntered into the kitchen, before pausing at the gift, before snorting in amusement.

It was a milk chocolate bar, sprinkled with mini Reese’s Pieces and peanut M&Ms (his favourites), wrapped in clear film. In the centre, it had large, white writing, spread across:

You’re my forever fuck

Marc suddenly felt hot, his heart skipping a beat. You tell him all the time, how much he meant to you, how much you adored him, but he never could really believe it. He always thought you’d said it out of pity for him, but he couldn’t ignore his feelings for you. He knew it got you down, how he couldn’t be as expressive; he actually believed you hung the stars, that you were too good of a person for him.

He replayed the moments of tenderness shared between the two of you, each memory etched with the permanent mark of your love. Yet, despite the reassurances whispered in the stillness of nights shared with passion and pleasures, where your bodies danced together, Marc grappled with the notion that he might never measure up to the idealised image he held of you.

Amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, one truth remained steadfast: your presence illuminated the darkest corners of his soul, offering solace in a world full of evils and maliciousness. As Marc stood at the crossroads of his emotions, he yearned to bridge the chasm between his doubts and the faith you held in him.

And now you’ve expressed it in his favourite chocolates for Valentine’s Day, and it just made him fall in love with you more.

He grinned as he opened it, taking a bite and groaning as the chocolate melted in his mouth. It was damn good.

His phone vibrates again with another text from you. He merely sends a selfie back of him taking another bite, with the caption:

Delicious.

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #marc x reader #marc spector x gn!reader #marc spector #oscar isaac

108 notes · View notes

rookthorne · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ➷ Baker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ➷ 965 Warnings ➷ Fluff, pet names Author's Note ➷ My third and final submission for @the-slumberparty's week 2 creator challenge - and it is also my late contribution to Valentine's Day... so happy Valentine's Day to y'all!

Slumberparty Masterlist

𝑪𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑰𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑵 : ̗̀➛ a sweet biscuit having a fairly soft, chewy texture and typically containing pieces of chocolate or fruit.

There were very few plans you had come up in your life with that rivalled the sheer brilliance of what you decided to do - ‘twas the belated day for it, anyway.

Time had slipped through your fingers, so much so you hadn’t realised Valentines Day had already passed by with not even as little as a notice, nor a message. It was the curse of working so hard; late nights, early mornings, so on and so forth.

Your morning commute didn’t differ in its crowds - people bustling back and forth, rushing to get to their 9 to 5 jobs, or rushing to get to class on time. Though, you did not mind, your thoughts were too occupied on whether you truly were going to pull off such a brazen idea.

It wasn’t reckless per se, but it was out of your norm. A bakery on your usual route to work had signs out, declaring their cookies and treats to be the best in Brooklyn. You didn’t disagree whatsoever, but it wasn’t thoughts of the baked goods that your mind was clouded with, no–it was the baker that occupied the counter. His smile was beautiful, bright enough to light up even the dreariest days, and you couldn’t help but be pulled under the swell of his ocean blue eyes.

Subconsciously, or instinctually, you found yourself before the very doors to that bakery with no recollection how you had got there, though you weren’t sour for the thought. You could see him talking with customers, bagging up fresh loaves of bread and slices of cakes with that same damn smile that enchanted you.

The door opened with a whoosh and a tinkling of the bell, and you were inside.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” he said, his voice smooth. The woman smiled and waved, leaving the bakery with bags and bags of sweet treats.

Another customer stepped forward to be served and you browsed the selection, a little overwhelmed; chocolate this and chocolate that, strawberry this and strawberry that, it was a wonder there were so many ways to use the same flavour in entirely new ways. You were no connoisseur, but you knew baking was an art.

“Hey,” he called. “Whatcha after today?”

You turned and smiled brightly, trying to will your heart to slow the tattoo it beat against your ribs. “I’m not sure actually,” you offered, sheepish. “I lost track of time and…” A better idea struck you. “I didn’t have time to get a gift before Valentine's Day, so I have to make up for that.”

The man laughed and rounded the counter. “Alright, now that is something I can help with. My name is Bucky, by the way.” You offered yours, and Bucky smiled. “What does your partner like?”

“I want to surprise them, see, they don’t have a favourite–I just know that they love your sweets.” It was a wonder you kept a straight face at the admission, your plan depended on it, and the delighted smile on Bucky’s lips almost broke your facade.

“The choc chip is by far the most popular, and not to be biassed–one of my favourites.” Bucky directed you towards the clear glass jars where a label was connected with twine, neat script defined ‘chocolate chip’. “And then there’s these,” Bucky continued, pointing towards a cream coloured biscuit with a heart shaped indent, filled to the brim with jam. “They are a safe, but still loved, classic for Valentine’s; even if it is belated.”

“Do you like them?” You asked, peering closer at the dusted sugar and how it sparkled under the soft lighting.

Bucky nodded next to you. “It was my ma’s recipe.”

“Perfect,” you sighed happily. “I’ll take some choc chip ones and these,” you pointed towards the heart biscuits. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“No worries, doll,” Bucky grinned. Oh, the things you would do to see that smile all the time.

A few moments later you met Bucky at the counter to pay, a shy smile on your face when you felt the slight crinkle of paper in your hand. Under the guise of digging through your bag, you wrote your phone number on a loose piece of paper and prayed to whoever would listen that this would work.

Bucky gave you the total with a happy smile and you waved your card. “Here you are,” Bucky said, handing you the bag full of the sweets he had ever so carefully packed. “I hope they like them, be sure to give my thanks for such high praise.”

“I will,” you rushed, grabbing the bag. Bucky turned to the box behind him and fiddled with something, and you took your chance; the slip of paper with your number fell neatly on top of the sealed boxes, its placement obvious and impossible to miss. “Actually, Bucky?”

“Yeah?” Bucky said, turning with a raised brow. “What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you offered the bag back to him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky stared. Shock, bewilderment, and amusement flashed in his pretty eyes as they flicked between you and the offered bag, before finally settling on endearment; a smile and wide eyes softening his features.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky breathed, taking the bag back and brushing his fingers against yours. His gaze flicked into the bag and his eyes grew even wider.

Before he could say anymore, you squeaked and skipped to the door. “Enjoy!”

Not even ten minutes later, your phone chimed as you walked through crowds to get to work. You pulled it free and let out a breath. It was an unknown number and an attachment, though what it contained told you exactly who had messaged.

Thank you for that, sugar. 😘

The attachment, much to your utter delight, was a selfie of Bucky’s bright smile, blue eyes, and he was holding up the piece of paper with your number. You floated on cloud nine for the rest of the day as you worked; giddy, excited, and happy.

↠ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ↞

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #navy and roo's sleepover #rookthorne’s works #Sugary Sweet

458 notes · View notes

sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

Sugar and Spice

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), sugar daddy!steve, age gap (reader in their 20s, steve however old you envision this version of him to be [i see it as early 40s]), daddy kink, mention of breeding kink, unprotected piv (don't be silly, wrap your willy), fingering, oral (m + f receiving), light choking

Summary: Your benefactor's colleagues have been itching to get him to go to dinner with them, so you do what any good sugar baby would do and help him out, but not without making sure you get a little something, first.

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! @eddiemunsons-missingnipple made this edit of older!Steve and I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head since.

"C'mon, pretty thing," Steve singsongs to you from the bedroom, "we'd really better start making a move soon, and I still see that dress that I bought you for tonight still on the closet door."

Continuing to check yourself out in the mirror, you call back, "I'm sorry, but I used the card to buy you a little extra gift and even I'm liking it."

"Oh, you did?" Steve purrs with intrigue. "Well, now I really don't want to be kept waiting."

You emerge from the bathroom, wearing the red lacy number that's somehow keeping your breasts perky with next to nothing holding them up - the feat you truly were admiring - connected to your matching panties, the main feature of which you keep hidden by crossing one leg in front of the other as you pose for him. "There's some lace and ribbon cuffs, too, but I thought you'd want to play with them later, instead."

Steve looks you up and down with the hunger of a starved lion surveying its succulent prey, his fingers carding through his beard as he strokes his jaw. Giggling, you twirl around to show him how your ass looks in this particular lingerie too before twirling back, and he silently strides forward to take your hips into his hands and kiss you fervently. You moan into his mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him back, eventually grinning against his lips, "So, you like 'em, Daddy?"

"Fuck, yes, I do, baby," he murmurs back between kisses. "But you're gonna make us late to dinner, and it was you who insisted we go to this stupid thing to begin with."

"We can be a little late," you tease back, pressing your palms into his chest.

Pressing his hips into yours, he hisses through his teeth, "It's gonna be a lot more than a little once I'm through with you, angel… C'mon, the quicker you get that dress on, the quicker we can go, which means the quicker we can leave, which means the quicker we can…" He falters as he runs his large hands up and down your arms.

"You're the one who can't keep your hands off of me," you point out with a smirk.

"I can stop any time I want, baby, I'm just giving you the loving I know you want," he croons back. "I can let go as soon as you back up just a little bit.”

“Oh, I can absolutely back it up if that’s what you want,” you smile coyly as you turn around and lean back against him.

“No, no, you know that’s not what - oh my god,” he ducks his head to moan breathily into your ear. “Oh, sweet thing, you are going to be the death of me.”

“You like feeling my ass grinding against you, Daddy?” you ask in a particular inflection that you know drives Steve wild.

“You know I do,” Steve groans as he pulls you closer by your hips. “Feel me getting harder for you?” You nod. “God, we are going to be so very late.”

“That’s okay, they can just hold our table," you shrug matter-of-factly, and his laugh bubbles against your shoulder as he kisses it, his facial hair leaving goosebumps on your now-sensitive skin.

"Oh, they can? And how does my baby know that?"

"I know everything," you lean your head back against his chest, looking up to grin at him.

He takes the chance to wrap his hand around your throat to guide your face for him to be able to kiss you, and you can feel his passion burning between your lips. "I guess that's true," he mutters lowly, his finger and thumb still gently pushing on just the right places. "So I suppose you know where I want you now, right?"

You take a quick scan around you, biting your lip. The bathroom has the mirror and counter sex appeal, but there's not a whole lot of room for him to really appreciate you, so you assume he must mean somewhere in the bedroom. The bed would be too obvious, you know he never likes to start fucking you on top of his dresser…

As you move to stand with your back pressed against the one bare expanse of wall without furniture or decor adorning it, a wide smile creeps along Steve's face. "I forget sometimes just how smart you are before I fuck your brains out," he coos as his hands slowly snake their way onto your hips, pressing you against the wall as he resumes kissing you. "Were you thinking about me in that bathroom, angel? About what I'd do to you?" You whimper in affirmation, and he continues between kisses, "Yeah? Bet you wanted me to go in after you and just immediately bend you over the counter so you could throw that ass back on my dick over and over. Am I right, baby?" His tone is the perfect balance of soft and firm.

You nod with a strained, "Yes, Daddy," as his thumbs brush against your nipples.

"Oh, baby, baby," he groans. "How many times do I have to fuck you to prove it to you, that you are worth so much more than a quick one, hm?"

"And yet, whenever we go out and there's a bathroom…" You tease with a smirk, and he pinches your nipples, making you gasp sharply.

"Are you backtalking to me, little brat?" he asks with a little more warning in his voice, and you shake your head. "Good. Because I'm sure my good, smart girl knows that while she's under my roof, she will be worshipped for as long as she behaves herself. Doesn't she?" You nod, and his hand slides down between your legs until he feels the last surprise of the outfit you picked. "Crotchless panties? Oh, you delicious little whore, you really do spoil me," he moans, bending down to kiss your neck as his fingers slide easily inside of you.

Letting out a loud moan at his touch, you grin, "I'm so glad you like them, Daddy. It took so long to pick out just the right set."

"You can make any set infinitely sexier, baby," he mutters between pecks beneath your ear as his fingers work you, gently but expertly. "You're so smart for picking this one out, though. Such a good girl for me, you like it when I fingerfuck you?" You nod again, feeling lightheaded from all his praise, and he chuckles, shaking his head. "No more cute little nods, baby, you have to use your words now. Tell me how much you love having my fingers inside of you."

"Please - feels so good, Daddy," you keen, bucking yourself further into his touch.

"Ohh, fuck, yes, you love it, don't you?" He groans against your skin, though he doesn't give into your hints of moving faster. You can feel the skin that his beard has touched tingle even when he's moved sides. "Mmm, but Daddy wants a taste of his favourite meal." Steve pulls his fingers out slowly and deliberately before sucking them clean with some very exaggerated facial expressions to show he loves the taste of you. "Oh, fuck, baby, that's not enough, I gotta have more." He sinks to his knees and studies the way you clench over nothing as he rubs at your clit before dipping his head down to plunge his tongue deep inside of you and start fucking you with it. Finally giving you the tempo you've been craving.

You whine, "Oh, god, thank you, Daddy, thank you," as you reach down to ball your fists in his hair. The ever-so-slight crunch of you messing up his perfectly coiffed and sprayed hair feels just that little bit extra satisfying.

"That's it, my sweet, polite little girl," he coos, pressing kisses between your legs as he looks up at you. "God, I love watching you fall apart for me from down here."

"I love… Watching you watch me," you pant out as his nose nuzzles at your clit.

"Mmm, you know what I love more, though?" he asks rhetorically as his hand already starts to grip your thigh. "Totally devouring you." Throwing one leg over his shoulder, he sits up on his knees to once again bury his tongue deep between your folds. His other hand grips your other thigh as well as his hold turns bruisingly tight. Chains of profanity, mixed with the occasional, "You like that, baby?" and "Oh, I know, keep moaning like that for me," spill from his lips as he eats you out, just as hypnotised by how much he's turning you on as you are.

“Please… Don’t stop,” you moan, throwing your head back against the wall as your back arches.

“Mmm, you’re so pretty when I eat you out,” Steve coos, looking up at you and pressing gentle kisses to your clit.

You look down at him, running your fingers through his hair and smiling breathlessly. “You’re so pretty when you eat me out, too.” Though his mouth is obscured, you can see the smile in his eyes before he focuses his attention on lapping at your folds.

Just as you start to feel your orgasm building, he swings your leg back off of his shoulder with just as much ease and stands tall. You pout up at him, "Why did you stop there? It was just getting good!"

"Exactly," he purrs, kissing your lips sweetly. You keep him there by holding his jaw, knowing how much he loves having you taste yourself on him, kissing him over and over again as he moans more obscenities into your mouth. "You're so good to me, baby, but you're so bad for this. I may not be able to keep my hands off of you, but I've gotta teach you a lesson somehow." He presses another peck onto you. "Now, be a good girl and lay down on the bed, 'kay?"

You look up at him and nod, moving over to sprawl yourself out on his mattress. You hear the soft clunk of his belt hit the floor and turn your head to see he'd pulled down his pants and underwear in one fell swoop. Your favourite vein that protrudes along the bottom of his cock, the one you especially love to lick, strains against Steve's fingers as he fucks his fist at the sight of you. You can't help but frown in jealousy, and he merely smirks at you in response. "I know, baby, you don't want Daddy touching himself when you could be doing it for me, isn't that right?" You nod, reaching out, but he bats you away, instead positioning himself to line himself up with your pussy.

As he presses his length against your folds, you meal, "I love how hard you get for me."

"Yeah?" he smirks. "Almost as much as how I know you love this?" He teases your entrance with the tip of his cock and you keen against him, squirming your hips closer to him as he chuckles under his breath. "Oh, fuck, you want more, baby? You want me to slide my fat cock inside of this pretty little pussy?" You nod desperately and he grins. "Not enough, baby. Say please if you want this c-"

"Please, Daddy, I want your big, thick cock to stretch me out and fill me up, I wanna feel it so deep that your tip kisses my fucking cervix, please," you whine.

"Oh, fuck, yes, my good, smart girl knows exactly what to say, doesn't she?" he croons as he slides himself inside of you. Your eyes roll back with pleasure as he falls straight into a natural rhythm. "So good, so smart, picking out this set," he reaches up to stroke a thumb across what little support the bra gives. " And it comes with cuffs, too?" he asks, and you nod. "Oh, we'll definitely be using those once we're home. Fuck, baby, you'll have to show me where you got these, I'll buy you their whole fucking store if you look as good in everything else as you do this," he grunts as his hips snap against you, fucking himself deep inside of you.

Your head lolls to one side but he holds your jaw in one big, strong hand to move it to look at him. "No, no, baby, look at me. That's it, pretty girl, want you looking me dead in the eye as I fuck you like this. Want you to see what you do to me as I get to watch you get fucked out of that pretty little head of yours," he groans out loudly. "Wanna watch every thought behind those eyes fade away as you get so fucking drunk on this dick that it's all you can think about. You want that, baby?" He doesn't even let you answer as he keeps murmuring, "Want you freshly fucked at the dinner table, barely able to hold a conversation because you're still entranced by even the thought of me filling you up again once it's all over. My sweet, dumb little trophy doll, all dressed up just how Daddy wants you so I can show you off."

Your mouth forms an O as your eyes glass over watching his pupils blow out as he fucks you. "Yes… Daddy, show me off, I'll do anything you tell me to," you squeak out, and he grins before bending down to kiss you again.

"I know you will, sweet thing, you're such a good toy," he moans. "Tell me how much you love getting fucked, baby."

You groan, "Please, god, never stop! You feel so good, so thick, I'm so full of you. Wanna just sit on your cock all the time, I feel so empty without you - God, please, let me come all over you, Daddy.”

“Are you close again, sweetie?” he coos, and you nod desperately. With a devious smile, he pulls out of you completely, tantalisingly slowly. As you stick your lower lip out in a pout, he presses down on it with his thumb, parting your lips slightly as he moves to straddle your chest. “Oh, no, no, don’t ruin that pretty face by making it all sad, baby,” he drawls. “You know what makes you feel better?” He leans up, holding his cock in his hand until he’s holding it just shy of your mouth. You whimper as you feel the tip graze against your lips and he smiles down at you.

You relax your jaw, letting it drop and your tongue loll out. Steve rocks forward just close enough to start smacking his cock against your tongue and you whine, furrowing your brow up at him. With a soft chuckle, he pushes his hips forward to slide his cock down your throat. He moans gutturally as he thrusts into you, and while you try to hollow your cheeks out at the right time and roll your tongue around his shaft, you soon give up as you realise all he wants to do is use your throat as a fleshlight. You relax your throat and simply moan around his cock as he fucks your face.

“That’s it,” he soothes, “good, smart girl knows what Daddy needs from her. Fuck, baby, I think you’ve earned the right to come with me. Get yourself up on your elbows, c’mon,” he moves back to reach back enough to start rubbing at your clit, but you frown. Noticing your hesitiation, he stops immediately, looking at you worriedly. “Is everything okay?” he asks, shuffling back to move his cock out of your mouth.

You nod, “Don’t worry, Daddy, ’m fine, I just… I really want you to come inside me,” you look up at him with pleading eyes and bite your lip.

A smile tugs at one side of his face. “Well, sure, baby, I’ll fill you up all night long, but -”

“Come ooonnn,” you drawl, running your fingertips up and down through his chest hair. “I know how much you love it when those other men you work with gawk at me. Grabbing my thigh when you see them looking at the hem of my skirt, whispering things in my ear whenever they’re staring at my neck so you can block their view… Imagine all of them looking and they don’t even know I’m only crossing my legs so that your cum doesn’t drip down my thigh.”

Steve groans, his eyes rolling back as he moves backwards. “Well, if that’s what my pretty girl wants…” He grabs your ankles and throws them forward so that your legs hang in the air, to which you hold them behind your knees. “You know,” he starts as he once again aligns the tip of his cock between your folds. “The boys at the office, they’d wanted me to go to dinner with them to talk about me being the face of all our international deals.” You pout again, partly from his teasing and partly at the thought of him leaving. “Hey, now, baby, you know I don’t like seeing you like this,” he reaches forward to cradle your face sweetly. “I wasn’t gonna do it. Didn’t wanna leave my perfect girl behind. But with you there, too, they can’t say no to you coming with me, can they? You wanna see the world from a private jet, baby?”

You nod, still looking doe-eyed at Steve. “I’ll be so good for you, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it, I’ll be such a good trophy wife.” The words come out before you can catch them, but Steve doesn’t seem upset by them.

Instead, his face is full of intrigue, and then pleasure. “God, when I first met you, I wanted to give you nothing but the high life, all the wild adventures of travelling the world, but after we’re done with all that, all I wanna do is make you my perfect little housewife. You want that, baby? You wouldn’t even have to cook or clean, if you didn’t want to, we can get people in for that. Just wanna… Wife you up, breed you over and over an- fuck!” He groans loudly as he finally thrusts inside you. “Wanna - make a whole family with you - shit, wanna fucking - call you my wife and mean it, god, just wanna marry you.”

Unable to form any other cohesive thought, and revelling in the fact you’re finally about to cum, you let out a string of, “Yes, oh god, oh, yes, fuck, yes!” as you finally climax, feeling yourself clench around his cock as he paints your inner walls with his hot, thick cum.

He stays inside you for a while, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high, until eventually you realise something. “Was that… Technically a proposal?!”

Steve pulls a face, “Not exactly the one I planned, but…”

“Then it doesn’t count, yet,” you shrug simply.

“Yeah?” he asks with a soft laugh. “Pretty sure we basically both agreed to it.”

You hold your left hand up at him. “I don’t see a rock on here yet, so it doesn’t count.”

“That’s my smart girl, knows her worth,” he grins, bending down to kiss you. You stroke his beard as you embrace him. “Now, how’s about my pretty little wife finally wears the pretty little dress I bought her so I can tear it off her pretty little body later, hm?”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #*myfics

430 notes · View notes

eldritch-nightmare · 2 months

Text

❝ it's not much, but i got you this. ❞

notes: prompt credit. i've never actually fully written anything for cody now that i think about it... i hope i do him nicely!! since it took me literally forever to post this, the other two prompts won't be valentine's base, though i may still use the prompts i chose for them bc. i like them. anyways!! i'm actually actively job hunting right now, which is why i've been so busy lately and haven't had much time to write. but i'll try working on some stuff soon!! for now, i hope you all enjoy this incredibly, very messy and late valentine's day post. thanks for being patient with me guys, it means a lot <3

pairing: x virus x gn!reader

word count: 983.

warnings: established relationship, fluff, cody is awkward as fuck when it comes to romance he's just like me frfr, wrapping paper is his biggest enemy, very mild angst like... a pinch of salt type of angst, cody is a perfectionist but idk if i portrayed that well enough here.

Cody stared at the clumsily wrapped gift placed in front of him, his arms crossed and his brows furrowed as he glared at the gift as if it had scorned him in some way.

And to him, it basically has.

You see, the gift he's been trying to wrap neatly and nicely is something he got for you, his lovely significant other. This is the first Valentine's Day he's spending with you, and while it doesn't have to be perfect, he would at least like to wrap your gift in a way that isn't... ugly.

It's not even that big of a gift. It's just a little bracelet he made in his spare time, so why the hell is it so hard to wrap in the little box he got for it?

He could just ask someone to help him wrap the gift, but that feels... I mean... it feels like that would be cheating? Strangely enough? Like... he made this for you, so he should be the one to wrap it up as well, no matter how annoying and how difficult it was starting to become.

It feels like it'll mean more if he does this himself.

But he's been here for like almost two hours now trying to wrap the box, and it looks so messy and it's covered in tape and honestly, the wrapping paper's color looks uglier and uglier the longer he looks at it and it just doesn't seem good enough for you. It could be so much better.

You deserve so much better. And if he could kill the wrapping paper, he would, truthfully.

Cody silently glares for a moment longer before letting out a sigh in defeat, resting his forehead against the surface of the desk in his workshop and grumbling quietly to himself.

The wrapping paper wins this round, but he'll do better next time.

With a huff, he sits up straight, giving the poorly wrapped box one final glance before grabbing it and standing up. It was time to actually give you the gift. And hope that you don't dump him for his poor wrapping skills. Do people do that? He's not sure. He hopes not. He'd hate for you to dump him.

Oh god, what if you dump him?

"Cody?"

"Fucking hell-" Cody nearly loses grip on the box in his hand when your voice suddenly pops up behind him, startling him so badly that he jumped a bit. He looked strangely similar to a dog that got caught doing something it wasn't meant to be doing.

And judging from the way he had quickly hidden his hands behind his back, awkwardly looking off to the side to avoid eye contact with you, you can't help but wonder if he had maybe done something.

"How long have you been standing there?" He asks, and your brow quirks up slightly at how strangely nervous he sounded. His behavior sort of reminded you of the day he had asked you out.

"Long enough to be concerned about whether or not I need to hide wrapping paper from you in the future." You respond, smiling a bit to yourself when you see Cody relax a bit at the joke you cracked.

"Ha ha. Funny." He blandly responds, though you don't miss the way his lips twitch upwards slightly. You deem your joke a success, even if he behaved otherwise.

"So, you wanna tell me what it is you're hiding behind your back? Or is it another one of your... projects?" You ask, crossing your arms and patiently waiting for his response.

And that made him tense up again.

He doesn't know why he felt so nervous about giving you a gift, poorly wrapped or not. I mean, you're literally dating each other, so he shouldn't get nervous like this, right? But also like, you're the first person he's ever dated and he honestly didn't think it would last this long even if it has only been a few months since he asked you out but still! Still!

He shouldn't be this nervous, honestly.

"Okay, so, like," He cringes slightly at the way his voice cracks a bit as he speaks, "Uhm, you know how it's Valentine's Day, right? I, uh, maybe it's silly but..." He trails off, seemingly debating whether or not he should actually continue before he's suddenly holding out a box in front of you.

It wasn't actually that poorly wrapped. Truthfully, it's way better than anything you could ever do. The wrapping paper was even your favorite color.

You take the box from him, glancing down at it before looking back up at Cody. He simply motioned for you to open the box, so you peel the wrapping paper off and do just that, taking the lid off the box to see the handmade bracelet neatly placed inside.

"It's not much, but I got you this," He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, "I mean, if you don't like it, I can make you something else! I know it's not the best thing in the world, but-"

"I love you."

He falls silent at your words, his nervous rambling cut off as he stares at you. You look up from the bracelet to stare at him, and your expression was so serious and genuine that it almost felt as if the air had been forced out of his lungs.

"Cody, I love you." You repeat.

"Oh," He stutters a bit, "I love you too." His words are a bit quieter compared to yours. It felt awkward saying those words out loud knowing you could actually hear him.

But the smile that bloomed on your face made him forget about all of that, and you nod, satisfied with his response, "Good. Now, help me make you one so we can match."

And who is he to say no to you and matching bracelets?

#x virus x reader #x virus x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you

50 notes · View notes

peterman-spideyparker · 1 year

Text

A Punny Kind of Love (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey lovelies! I wrote this in maybe a half hour back in October so I wouldn't be late posting it for Valentine's Day, and guess what I forgot to post for Valentine's Day🙃 Anyways, it's still within the Valentine's Day week, so it counts. Enjoy! :)

Summary: It's Valentine's Day, and you and Matt get one another similar gifts.

Warnings: Pure, sweet, domestic and adoring fluff, smut (alluded to, not written)

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 848

“Hey, Matt,” you smile as he walks into the apartment, folding his cane and taking off his glasses, placing both by the door.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he smirks, walking over and pulling me in for a sweet kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Matty.” You reciprocate the message with a kiss, Matt pulling you closer as you try to break the kiss. You erupt into a fit of laughter as you pull away, Matt’s hands gently tracing over your body as he keeps pecking little kisses into your lips.

“I’ve got a lasagna in the oven, a fresh bottle of Macallan’s, oh! And the lovely bouquet of tulips you sent me,” you inform, pecking a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Matt smiles, arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close and kiss you more. “Surprised, sweetheart?”

“Yes and no,” you say against his lips. “But I love it all the same, Matt. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“What a line,” you giggle as he continues to kiss you. “Let’s go to the couch.”

“Oh?”

“I want to give you your gift.”

“Mm?”

“It’s not sex, you goober!” you cackle. “Well, it’s not sex yet.”

Wriggling out of his hold, you take his hand and guide him to the couch. Halfway there, he slips from your grip and goes to where he keeps his Devil suit, pulling out a red bag before he joins you on the couch.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he smiles as you exchange gifts.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Matt.” You give his knuckles a kiss and squeeze his hand. “Open yours first.”

Pulling his gift out of the bag, you see the confusion work across his face as he tries to figure it out. “It’s . . . A teddy bear,” Matt smiles as he runs his hands over the soft fur of the plushie.

You place your hand over one of his, moving it along the little outfit he’s in.

“Beardevil,” you correct as you guide him over the little helmet he wears. Matt chuckles as he feels over the bear with more attention.

“I knew you loved puns, but this is taking it to a new level,” he chuckles.

“Is it, though?”

“Yes it is,” he continues to laugh, his wide smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle as he leans in for a kiss.

“If you don’t appreciate the layered pun—.”

“No, no, I do. It’s just that you’ve rubbed off on me so much, I made the same pun. Well, almost.”

Leaning over, he picks up the red bag and puts it in my lap. Moving out the tissue paper, you pull out a brown duck plushie that appears to be wearing a miniature version of your favorite suit of Matt’s—the ensemble complete with red spectacles on.

“Let me guess,” you smile as you assess the duck, trying to think of the pun. “Matt Mur-duck?” Matt chuckles again as he nods his head. “The student has become the master, I see.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. Almost as much as his namesake,” you hum as you lean forward to give Matt a kiss. “Plus, I think these two fine fellows are good evidence to protect your identity. I mean, there’s no way a duck can turn into a bear.”

“Well, there’s also supposed to be no way that a blind man can behave like I do.”

“Wait, so what I’m hearing is that Matt Murduck’s pond was polluted with toxic waste and granted him the ability to transform into Beardevil to fight crime?”

“Your brain really does work at a million miles a minute, doesn’t it, angel?” he hums, his voice raspy as his fingers trace the skin on the back of my hand.

“All that’s in there is circus music, babe. Full chaos, a million miles a minute, all the time.”

“Well, let me see if I can do something about that.” Leaning forward, he presses his lips into yours, kissing you slowly as your body moves to a horizontal position on the couch. You gasp and moan as you feel him grind his hips into you, which only makes a smile grow on his stubbled chin.

“Matt,” you murmur against his lips. “Matt . . .”

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he husks, dragging his lips to the sweet spot of your neck.

“Not in front of the duck and bear.”

His kisses stop as his laugh reverberates in your skin. “That’ll be hard the way we have sex.”

“Virgin eyes.”

“They’ll see worse.”

“Please?”

It’s a low blow—you know Matt can’t resist you when you say that single word. With a sigh, he scoops you up in his arms and moves you to the bedroom.

“We’ll be more comfortable here anyways,” he says, kicking the sliding door closed with his foot behind him.

“They’ll hear us.”

“(Y/N).”

“Gotcha,” you smile, pulling him in for a deep, passionate kiss. “Do me, Matty.”

“How romantic,” he beams.

You giggle before you kiss him again. “I love you.”

“Love you more, angel. More than you’ll ever know.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #daredevil netflix #daredevil disney+

340 notes · View notes

psychospore · 1 year

Text

Read it out loud for me, Darling

My entry for @muddyorbsblr 14 Days of Valentines 💕

If you want more Loki fics, please check out my Masterlist

Summary: Loki gifted you a book from Midgard that you read for him on your first date

Word count: 630

Pairing: Asgardian!Loki x F!reader

Warnings: just fluff

A Red, Red Rose

BY ROBERT BURNS

O my Luve is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.

You read aloud from a worn-down leather-bound book Loki gifted you from Midgard. Your eyes fixated on the crisp pages, one hand holding the book near your face, the other stroking playfully on his long, raven locks. He looks at you with so much adoration and awe as he lays his weary head upon your lap.

He returned from his trip along with his brother in time for the celebration of love in Midgard - Valentine's Day as they call it. He knew about your growing interest in the Midgardian custom, thus the first thing he did as soon as he arrived was to visit you to give you a glimpse of the tradition.

He invites you to read to him in his mother's garden - your way of practicing what they call a "date". You sat on the thick emerald blanket covering the freshly growing grass, under the shade of a towering oak tree in the late afternoon. He prepared a basket of pastries and honeyed wine, which was carefully placed within your arms reach. He also brought you a crown made from freshly picked red roses - wonderfully adorning the top of your head.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

You have known Loki for ages. Despite his cold, calculating nature in the eyes of many, he was none of that when he was with you. His caring nature shows through his actions - how he held you in his strong arms to make sure you are safe and secured or how he meticulously brushes stray hairs away from your face so he could gaze at the beauty in front of him unhindered or how he carefully curates items and experiences that interest you and present them as gifts.

A shy blush creeps upon your face as he does these things, and you wonder if you could stay this way forever. In sweet serenity with Loki - no outside forces to disturb your peace nor ebbing doubts to distract your minds.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

His eyes trailed upon your sweet lips as you brought the honeyed wine for a sip. His reached out for the excess wine strewn on the corners of your mouth to wipe out with his fingers and gently licking it clean.

You gently took one biscuit from the basket, carefully placing it upon your lips and taking a small bite, careful not to drop any crumbs on Loki. He held your hand to guide the bitten pastry towards his mouth for a bite before placing it back.

You blushed, almost hiding your face behind the book but you cannot hide away from his vision as a faint smile started to spread on his moist lips.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.

You close the book and lay it gently to the side. He shifts his weight to sit upright beside you, inching closer, with his hand gently brushing your cheeks as he leans in. His lips parted as it came into contact with your soft lips to take you in a slow, passionate kiss, your hearts raced as the mighty Oak tree bore witness to your confession of love - your first kiss with Loki.

#loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fic recs #loki of asgard #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fic

146 notes · View notes

marchtooctober · 2 months

Text

My valentine gift for @wondrousmay @whateversawesome @shiro-s2e2-erukinzu @tare-chan

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

A turn to left, a turn to right.

It was one of those rare nights when Loid could not shut himself down to rest. He's wondering why it is so. Maybe it was because his day wasn't as tiring as usual or because of the overdose of caffeine.

In the last two hours, his sleeplessness was spent on staring at the ceiling accompanied with a symphony of unspoken thoughts. His frustration is such that he flipped away the blanket to his side.

*creaking of the door

Loid left the room and did not bother switching the lights on.

He sniffed in the scent of freshly changed curtains as he slid it to the side and without thinking much of it, he looked out of the window as he leaned himself against the corner. There is nothing remarkable below as it is already late into the night and the only ones to see are people who are yet to reach their own homes.

And so Loid had nothing to do but unconsciously stare at the night sky. Only a handful of shimmering stars can be seen due to the urban atmosphere. And more so, because of the full moon high up above, in all its glory.

"The moon is beautiful tonight." Came a voice behind Loid with no warning.

A combination of electrifying jolt and warm shiver spread throughout his body. It made him fix his posture but he did not turn. He didn't need to because he knew the voice. The one which has now grown overly familiar and speaks home to him, all that is sweet and serenity. Yet, like a stimulant, it was enough to affect his heartbeat and breathing which spiked even higher when the very person stood before him.

"You're still up at this time?"

"I'm sorry, Yor. I couldn't sleep." Loid said.

Under the moonlight, Yor looked as though she was its personified goddess.

"I went out to drink water. How about I brew you some tea?" She asked.

"That sounds good. Thank you."

It was merely a minute but Loid was holding his breath. He was caught off guard again by Yor and he contemplated how many times this already happened. In vain he lost count and he was aware that it will do him no good even if he knew. He'd still be vulnerable all the same.

"Here, Loid."

Yor held the cup by the corner near the base so handle is facing Loid. But even with this, their fingertips never failed to make contact. Surely, they would have flinched, if it wasn't for the tea-filled ceramic that they're holding.

Loid tried to compose himself and it frustrated him and he felt rather fidgety.

"Thank you." Loid could say no more than that.

He carelessly drew the cup and burned his lips. It showed on his face that it hurt him quite a bit. How he wish it didn't because Yor stepped nearer to him in worry.

"I must have served it too hot! I'm sorry... Does it hurt?"

Loid could not speak but shook his head, not wanting her to mind it. But it seems Yor did not notice and decided on something else. Swiftly, she held Loid's face and closed in for a kiss.

Loid froze. Again, he was caught off guard. This act is about to drive him mad. It was torture and pleasure at the same time. Though he wanted to shy away, there was no way to resist this attack that took him by surprise.

Soft and lingering. Swayed by the heavenly bliss. How Yor felt on his lips was perhaps the only remedy Loid needed.

"I'm going back now. You should do the same as soon as you're done. The bed feels too big without you." Yor said when she broke away.

Loid could not look elsewhere, his eyes always sought Yor's. Almost as if he is drawn in by those crimson orbs. Exchanging another gaze, Yor smiled and turned away.

Now Loid realized the reason he couldn't sleep.

For every restless contemplation, Yor is his muse. To be loved by her is too good to be true.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

My, myyyy... this took a rather peculiar turn. I'll let you imagine whether this drabble is post-mission/post-revelation/post-confession 😂🤣

Ps. I honestly had a different ending for this but i suddenly decided to go with a very valentine vibe 😂🤣

#spy x family #loid forger #yor forger #loiyor #sxf fanfic #sxf #twiyor #drabble #short fic #loiyor fic #loiyor valentine #valentine treat #loiyor drabble

19 notes · View notes

butmakeitgayblog · 11 months

Note

Because I'm sad tonight just end me: how long does eventually live Lexa after getting married to Clarke?

Challenge accepted?

They get married in late August, and Clarke lays her to rest at the very beginning of the following spring in March. Which was longer than any of the doctors had imagined possible, but Lexa seemed pretty determined to spend at least one Christmas and Valentine's day together 😔.

They go apple picking in the fall and carve pumpkins for the window display at the shop and take a week long road trip along the coast to see all the fiery range of foliage. They dress up as Peter Pan and an extremely appreciated sluttier version of Wendy for Halloween just to get tipsy on hard apple cider on the front porch while handing out candy to the neighborhood kids.

For Christmas they make new stockings together and watch White Christmas and Meet Me in St. Louis and every other classic holiday movie that is vaguely musical on repeat just so Clarke can make Lexa sing a long to every song. They exchange gifts and bake cookies that Lexa doesn't really have the appitite to eat, but that's alright. It's more just to make the memories together anyway. Clarke manages to talk Lexa into making a little pair of sapphic snow angels in the yard, aaaand then spends the rest of the evening warming a very shivery Lexa back up by the Griffin's home fire 🤦🏼‍♀️

For Valentine's Lexa employs Abby and Gus of all people to go to the store in the city for her to get bags of tiny chocolates and those little cards kids give each other in grade school. 365 little valentines to be exact, and yes she makes her father count them for her - twice -, and she writes loving notes and sweet words of devotion for her wife. She puts them in box along with a thick stack of letters wrapped in a satin bow, each labeled with a day or an age or a big life event written in her elegant script across the top of the envelope. And she makes Clarke sit with her on the bed because she doesn't have a lot of leftover strength by then, and she explains her thoughts with her gift.

She explains that she knows the next year will probably get pretty dark at times. But that even on the bad days, when everything feels hopeless, and ugly, and bitter, Clarke will still always deserve to enjoy the small things in life. To take at least one moment each day and allow herself to enjoy the little things that make living just a little bit sweeter. And she explains that while maybe the letters feel a tiny bit morbid ("I really went back and forth on these. I didn't want it to feel like I was talking to you from beyond the grave 🤨" as Lexa puts it very seriously), they're meant to be little reminders that no matter what happens, Lexa is right there with her every step of the way. She says her favorite thing in the world has always been books (yes yes besides Clarke of course 😏🙄 "I can't believe I agreed to marry you. You're so full of yourself") because she believes something magical happens in the process of putting words on pages. That she believes when you take the time to put down your thoughts and your feelings onto paper, you leave a little piece of your soul scattered among the words. And now she knows Clarke will have these pieces of her, along with all her support and all of her love. And that on the big days of Clarke's future... like her graduation, or getting her dream job... getting remarried, maybe one day having kids... That should Clarke ever need or want to hear how proud she is of her, everything Lexa feels for her is just an envelope away.

Suffice it to say, it's a very love filled seven months...

#anon #a walk to remember au #AWTR synopsis

54 notes · View notes

callsignspark · 1 year

Text

anything for you | part one

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Rebecca Hermann (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied violence against women/children, discussions of murder (nothing explicit/gory), inaccuracies about hotel ownership, eventual smut, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 4.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist

note: I wrote and edited this in about eight hours on Tuesday last week and then got my appendix out on Wednesday, so it's a bit later than I said it would be. Some friends and moots are tagged at the end, have a good weekend!

Friday, February 10, 2023 | San Diego, CA | 2100 PST

It was late. Later than she ever worked. But the project was done, the week was over, and now the weekend could be enjoyed. Daydreams of a hot bath and chocolate are interrupted by an alert from her security system.

Someone is in her house.

A quick review of the cameras told her it was one of the idiots that hung around her father – the insignia on his jacket sleeve a dead giveaway – and her heart rate slightly slowed. She would have to find out the identity of the man in her home once she got there. Whoever it was, he was lucky enough to avoid facing the cameras but apparently not smart enough to realize they were there. Maybe she’d introduce him to the baseball bat that had a permanent home in her trunk. Pedal to the floor, she stewed in her anger on the drive home and created a simple six-step plan:

1. Park around the corner to avoid detection. 2. Sneak through Mrs. Klempner's backyard. (Do not destroy the roses.) 3. Review live footage and determine best entry point. 4a. If identity of man is unknown – subdue with baseball bat. 4b. If identity of man is known... subdue with baseball bat anyway. 5. Deal with idiot once consciousness is regained. 6. Suffer consequences from dipshit father at a later time.

As she slips through the gate of her back fence, arms covered in scratches from rose bushes and rage simmering in her chest, she reminds herself to be grateful that her neighbor's overgrown rat of a dog (and her mortal enemy) is already inside. A normal day would find Rufus barking from sunrise to whenever the elderly Mrs. Klempner remembered to let him back in the house. Taking his unnaturally high anger level out at anything and everything from the mailman (who agreed the obese Jack Russell terrier was a spawn of the devil himself) to a leaf that dared to fall within a 50-foot radius of his dog house.

"Never barks at anything actually important, though, stupid four-legged ball of blubber." She mutters to herself as she hides under the dining room window. "Okay, fuck head, let's see where you are."

Flicking through the feeds, she finds the man standing in her kitchen with his back still to the camera, drinking from one of the nice crystal glasses gifted to her by her mother. The nerve of this man!

Stashing her phone away, she peeks through the dining room window, only to find her mystery guest rummaging through her freshly stocked fridge. Her mouth drops when he comes back out with one of the peanut butter hearts she had bought herself as a Valentine's Day treat. I haven’t even had one of those yet!

She doesn’t recognize the blonde man just from his ridiculously wide shoulders, but she does notice the flex of his arms as he unwraps the stolen sweet. None of the guys in her father’s crew are that broad. That means it’s someone from the Daggers. Which can only mean bad news. Or maybe she’ll get lucky, and the intruder will have news that her father is dead. Then he turns, she can feel the blood drain from her face as nausea creeps up her throat – luck was not on her side tonight. She knows the man standing in her kitchen.

Jacob Seresin. The Hangman.

Using the shadows of her house as cover, she slowly begins to move back toward the fence gate, trying to give her scrambling brain time to think of a new plan.

1. Slowly, quietly move to the gate – keep eyes on the house the whole time. 2. Sprint back to the car. Hit the highway. Head south. 3. At the first rest stop, pull as much cash from the ATM as possible. 4. Buy gas, scissors, hair dye, and as much non-perishable food as possible on a credit card. 5. Repeat steps 3 and 4 two more times. Create a paper trail. Keep moving south. 6. At the third stop: ditch cards, phone, and ID in the garbage on the way out. 7. Continue south for another 10 miles, then swing back to the north. 8. Head for Canada. Drive safe. Don't get pulled over – remember, no ID. 9. Once in Seattle, contact Vinnie for help crossing the-

"Where do you think you're going?"

The next ninety seconds happen fast. In just a few moments, the bat is swiped from her hand, and her mouth is bound with what she can only hope is a clean cloth. Two sets of hands restrain her arms, and a third her ankles. But only after she makes contact with someone’s family jewels. The satisfaction at the sound of his grunt and the thump of him dropping to his knees doesn’t last long as she’s dragged toward her own home. All of her attempts to break free or scream for help are woefully unsuccessful.

The back door opens, the silhouette of The Hangman filling the frame. "Will you get her inside already?"

"Something isn't right, Jake." The tall, bespectacled man on her left grunts, struggling to get the wiggling woman into the house without hurting her.

"She's been fighting us the entire way! Bob, let go; I’m just gonna carry her in." The even taller brunette on her right throws her into a fireman's carry and brings her into the house. "I don't think she knows what's going on."

"Ya fucking think, Bradshaw? Just get her in a chair and make sure she can't move. Where the fuck is Javy?"

A man with a thick mustache chokes back laughter. "Oh man, he took the bat out of her hands, and she got him right in the balls. Direct hit. Took him right down to his fucking knees. He's still out there trying to catch his breath."

"Someone, please go get him." The exasperation is clear in his voice, and even as she fights getting tied to a dining room chair, she can't help but think that the most feared man in the city looks exhausted.

"You don't know why I'm here, do you?"

The question catches her by surprise, allowing the men to finish securing her feet. She hadn't been directly addressed since being grabbed in the backyard. She stares at him, hoping her expression properly conveys the "I can't speak because your fucking goons gagged me, you idiot" that she's trying to project.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

She knows her "yeah fucking right" comes through clearly because he huffs a laugh.

"I'm not. And clearly, your father didn't tell you I would be here tonight, or you wouldn't be tied to a chair right now." The room’s attention is stolen by movement at the back door, "You alright, Machado?"

"I'm fine.”

“Man, she got you good!” A curly-haired man crows at him.

“Garcia! Shut up, all of you!” He hisses at the men trying not to laugh before nodding at his boss. “I'll be okay."

"Good. Would hate for your lovely wife to not get those children she so dearly wants." He crouches in front of her, "Now, back to you. I'm not here to hurt you, so I'm going to take this off, explain why we're here, and you're not going to scream. Do you understand?"

She takes a second before nodding, only agreeing because the cloth in her mouth is starting to make her gag reflex act up. "Alright, lean forward a little bit."

She does as she's told, slightly shaking as his hands come uncomfortably close to her neck. She knows what damage those hands could do; what damage they have done. She closes her eyes, and next week’s headlines light up her eyelids like a Broadway marquee.

Local woman found strangled in her San Diego home.

Local woman with ties to organized crime found tied to dining room chair.

Local woman unfairly paying for the crimes of her idiot father at the hands of his boss, city's wealthiest entrepreneur.

“Hey, open your eyes. Look at me, Rebecca.” The command is given gently but firmly. She obeys, not wanting to upset him now that she has no hope of escape. “There we go. Oh shit. Please don’t cry; I’m not here to hurt you. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already.”

“Forgive me, but you’ll have to excuse me for not believing you.” She sniffles, tears escaping without permission, voice shaking even as she snarks at him. “Especially since you mentioned my father.”

“You’re like he said you would be. You know who I am, then?” Amusement dances in his eyes and his smile sharpens when she nods. “Who am I?”

“Jacob Seresin: CEO and chairman of Eagle Hotels and Resorts. But better known around the city as “The Hangman” – head of the Daggers.” Her resolve strengthens, and she vows not to show any more weakness. “How did you get in my house?”

“Very good. You can call me Jake.” His smug, condescending tone brings her blood back up to boil.

“Okay, Jake.” She spits his name back at him. “Why are you here? What did my father do?”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Six months ago, on my sister’s birthday. How did you-”

“Delilah, right?” He interrupts, waiting for her confirmation. “I’ve met her a few times. She seems like a good kid.”

“She is.” Her words are almost silent, heart pounding from the terrifying knowledge that this man knows who her sister is. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t reply; instead stands and grabs a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge, “Got any straws?”

“Why are you here?” Her voice is stronger again, more concerned with why her baby sister is part of the conversation than the beverage needs of the dangerous man shuffling through her kitchen drawers.

He tuts at her, “One thing at a time. Where are your straws?”

“Why are you-” She cuts herself off, sighing when it becomes clear that he’s not going to stop until she answers his question. “Drawer to the right of the stove, clear container.”

“Oh, reusable kinda gal, huh? Save the turtles and all that? Rock on.” He grabs a chair and sits across from her, so close that their knees touch, before cracking the bottle and plopping the straw in. “Take a sip. I’m sure your throat is sore from all the screaming.”

She shifts forward, hesitant but willing to drink it since she saw him open it. She thanks him, the manners her mother instilled in her automatically coming out, and immediately scolds herself for being kind to the monstrous man in front of her.

“You’re welcome.” He sets the bottle on the table and leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest. “What do you know about the Daggers?”

“Not much. Why are you here?”

“You’re very stubborn; has anyone ever told you that? Explain how much “not much” is, and I’ll answer your questions.”

“I know how the Dagger Organization was formed. I know you’re the head of the Daggers, a position you inherited from your father, who inherited it from his father, and so on. You have a large group of advisors made up of two smaller groups. One group you trust because they’re your people. I’m guessing the men in my kitchen are part of that group.” She takes a beat, glancing at the five men around her island, pretending not to listen. “The other group, not so much. They were your father’s advisors, and more than one of them is rumored to be the reason you inherited your position. My father is part of that group, and likely the one you trust the least, given how he was your father’s right-hand man at the time of his death. Not to mention the fact that he’s a huge idiot. That’s all I know; I don’t understand how the hierarchy works or anything like that. Why are you here?”

His eyebrows raise – surprised or impressed, she can’t tell. “You know more than I thought you would by your “not much” response.”

“Yeah, well, gotta know your family history, right?” He stifles a laugh at her sarcastic tone. Her father warned of an attitude, but he didn’t mention her sense of humor. “How did you get in?”

“If I untie you, you gonna try to run?” He avoids the question, lips quirking when she squirms at his eyes running up and down her body, trying to assess if she’ll fight him when she’s untied. “Or kick Javy in the crotch again? His wife really is hoping to get a few kids out of him.”

“I won’t run.” She confirms, then mutters to herself, “It’s not like I would get very far anyway…”

He hums in agreement as he moves to free her legs first. “You’re a smart one.”

“I do alright.”

“Rebecca, I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. A bachelor’s degree in mathematics and two master's degrees? Seem pretty damn smart to me.” He moves behind her chair to unite her hands. “How are your wrists, sweetheart? Did Bradshaw do it too tight? I’ll let you take a shot at him if it was too much.”

She forces herself to ignore how her stomach flips at the term of endearment and the way his hand gently rubs her shoulder on his way back to his chair. She examines her wrists and rotates them to check for injury, reminding herself of the games men like him play. It’s not real. He brought up Delilah as a threat. It’s not real. He’s being kind, so you’ll trust him, and that’s when bad things happen. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not-

“Do your wrists hurt?”

“They’re fine, thank you.” Her voice sharper than she means it to be. Calm down. Don’t give him a reason to make them hurt.

“You sure? They look a little red.”

“It’s fine; I’m sure it’ll go away soon.” His eyebrows lift in doubt as she rubs her wrists, trying to soothe the slight rope burn she got from struggling.

Play him back, don’t give him the upper hand. “I was sorry to hear about your dad; he was always kind to me.”

“Drink some more Gatorade.” His voice is stiffer than before.

Bullseye.

She looks up from her wrists, eyes darting between the orange liquid and the man opposite her. When she doesn’t move, he nods at the bottle, a silent order to drink. He continues on after she complies, looking pleased. “What do you know about the Tomcat arrangement?”

She shakes her head. “I know it exists. I heard my father mention it once or twice in passing; when I still lived at his house, but I don’t know what it is. You still haven’t answered my questions.”

“When my great-great-grandfather created the Daggers, he did it with three other families.”

“The Bradshaws, the Kazanskys, and the Hermanns.”

“Yes, as you know, Albert Hermann – your great-great-grandfather – was one of the four founding members. What started as equal power between the four families changed over time. My family ended up as the leaders, and an agreement was made during our great-grandfather’s time. First, so long as there is a male heir to lead the next generation, the Seresins stay as the lead family. The other three families remain at the top of the chain of command. The leader taking their advice and counsel. His most trusted allies. The second part of the agreement is that whenever possible, the heir – the future leader – will marry a daughter of one of the other families. To keep the power balanced as much as possible between the families. As a way of ensuring that the Seresins don’t end up with too much power. And now that I’ve taken over my father, it’s time for me to get married.”

She stays quiet, stomach twisting at the information. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Rebecca, your family is the only family with the right lineage and daughters suitable enough to satisfy the Tomcat arrangement.”

“Daughters? Daughters! My sister is being considered?!” She lunges at him. “She’s eighteen! You vile, disgusting pig! You fucking piece of shit!”

“Will you stop it?” He easily stops her attack, her five-and-a-half-foot frame no match against his six-foot-two body. She struggles against his hold on her wrists, unwilling to stop fighting until she gets a decent hit. “If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to tie you back up.”

When she doesn’t listen, he flips her around, gathers both wrists behind her back, bends her over the dining room table, and uses his weight to keep her in place, “Enough.”

It kills the fight in her. “She’s only eighteen! She’s just a baby! I was trying to get her out of there. I was supposed to get her out of there! I promised! I promised I would. I promised…” Sobs wrack her body, choking the words in her throat.

The house is silent except for her crying, the sound amplified from where her face is pressed against the table.

“Stop crying. Please stop crying. Jesus, your fucking father was supposed to have explained this to you already.” Jake sighs, resting his head against her shoulder blade. Nothing had gone in his favor today. “I don’t want to marry your sister.”

Her heart skips a beat, and her voice is thick with tears when she asks, “...what?”

“I don’t want to marry her. She’s practically a child. C’mon, take a drink.” He lets her up and grabs a tissue from the sideboard in her dining room. “Per the Tomcat agreement, after taking control, if I’m not already married, I have six months to get engaged to a woman who meets the requirements of the agreement. And then a year to marry her. My advisors reminded me today that I only have two months left to get engaged. Your father ever so kindly reminded me that your family is the only one with women that meet the Tomcat terms. He was quick to offer your sister to me, who I refused even quicker. She’s young enough I could practically be her father. It has to be you.”

“No.” Her answer comes swift and firm. No more playing into her father’s hand.

“If you refuse, he’ll kill you – he’ll do it himself if he has to – and then he’ll force your sister to marry me. And I won’t be able to stop it.”

She scoffed as she wiped at her nose, “You are the most powerful man in the city, probably the fucking state. To say you couldn’t stop it is absolutely ridiculous!”

“I wish that were true, but there’s still too many of the old guard, too many stuck in the ways of our fathers and grandfathers. I refuse, they’ll kill me, and your sister will be forced to marry one of my uncles – for the sake of keeping the Seresin name in power. Or worse, your father will try to take control, and god knows what will happen if he gets a taste of any real power.” He takes a breath, trying to gauge the reaction of his future bride. “I know this isn’t what you want. It’s not what I want either, having these archaic rules forced on us. But if we don’t play along, things will get much worse.”

“I- I… is this really the only way my sister stays safe?”

He didn’t think he had ever seen such sadness before and tried to answer as gently as possible. “I’m sorry, Rebecca, but it is.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

“I guarantee she’ll be safe from harm of the Daggers. You know I can’t promise anything more than that.”

She nods, eyes distant as she thinks before she straightens and looks him in the eye. “I have conditions.”

“I really don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands.”

“I think I am, actually. Sure, if I refuse, I end up dead. But so do you. And my father will make your family’s life a living hell, I have no doubt. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being a bastard to women. Besides, they’re not demands; they’re… conditions – compromises, really – and quite simple ones at that.”

He grits his teeth, knowing she’s right and wishing she wasn’t quite so smart. “Fine. What are your conditions?”

“My sister is allowed to do whatever she wants. And we’ll pay for it, whatever it is. If she wants to go to college, her tuition is fully funded. If she wants to stay in San Diego, volunteering at animal shelters and surfing all day long, we’ll buy an apartment for her. I don’t care what she does, as long as it’s her choice, and she doesn’t have to live with my father anymore.”

“Agreed. We’ll get her out of there as soon as the wedding is over. What else?”

“She can’t know the circumstances of my agreement. She’ll obviously know why I’m the one you’re marrying – why we’re getting married in the first place, she’s not an idiot – but she can’t know that she was the one offered up by my father and I’m only doing this to save her.”

“Done. What else?”

“I know we’ll have to announce our engagement, but I need a month before we take it public. That’s how long I need to give my notice at work and do a proper turnover so I don’t screw my team over.”

“You don’t have to quit, you know? You can keep working if you want to.”

“I know, but let’s face it, as the wife of one of California’s most widely known men – in good ways and bad – it’d be hard to keep working like I do now. And with your reputation, there would be cries of corruption and protests. I’d end up constantly harassed by press and, honestly, probably my coworkers. They’re not exacting your biggest fans. But I do want to keep working. I can’t be someone who sits at home all day, not having anything to do. I’ll go crazy.”

“We’ll find you something at Eagle. Anything you want – the business side, the volunteer and charity team, anything. Or you can start something of your own. We’ll figure it out, Rebecca.”

She breaks eye contact for a second, feeling flustered under the intensity of his attention.“I assume I’ll be moving in with you?”

He nods, “I’d actually like you to do that as soon as possible. You’ve always had a target on you because of your father, but being with me just makes it grow a hundred times. I want one of my people with you wherever you go out in public. Not only will our rivals be a problem, but I’m not counting your father out either.”

“My sister gets a guard too. Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I would do anything to protect her. She is my- our biggest vulnerability.”

“Done. What else?”

“If I’m moving in with you, I’d like to sell this house. And the money from the sale will be mine.”

“You don’t have to worry about money. You’ll have full access to all of my accounts.”

“The money will go into my account that you will not have access to.”

“I’m not going to steal from you.”

“I’m not worried about you stealing. It’s to protect myself… just in case.”

His face softens in understanding. “The money will go into your account, which I will not have access to. I will pay for the realtor and any fees associated with the sale; you’ll get to keep as much as possible.”

“That’s not necessary; I can pay for-”

“I’m sure you can. But I’m going to anyway.” He holds up his hand when she attempts to protest. “You’re not going to win this one, so save it for another fight. What else?”

“Fine.” She huffs an annoyed breath out of her nose. “I’ll need to update my will to account for all of these changes.”

“I was already planning on bringing in the lawyers; we’ll get everything set before the engagement announcement.”

“I’d like my own lawyer to review everything.”

“You have a lawyer? Why?”

“Does it matter?” Her voice is sharp again, but it’s different this time – the word defensive flashes in his mind.

“No, I’m just surprised. Who is it? We’ll get them on retainer, but their office will be solely dedicated to you.”

“Peter Spartz of the Spartz Brothers.”

“Really? He’s good. I’ll have the legal team set up a meeting to get everything in place. What else?”

“I want to manage the size of the wedding. I know between Eagle and the Daggers, you have an obligation to invite a ridiculous amount of people, and they are all welcome to come to the reception. But I want the ceremony itself to be as small as possible. I don’t want to get up there and vow myself to you in front of a thousand of your closest business associates if I don’t have to.”

“We can do that. What else do you want for the wedding?”

“What do you mean?”

Her confusion confuses him. “What do you mean “what do I mean”? What do you want the wedding to look like? Flowers? Your dress?”

“Oh, I guess we actually have to plan a wedding. Fuck.” She looked annoyed at the prospect of having to plan their nuptials. “I really don’t care what we do.”

“You don’t care what your wedding looks like?”

“I- no? Should I? It’s not like we’re doing this because we love each other. Or even like each other. We’re fulfilling an obligation our grandfathers put in place a million years ago so that we don’t end up in shallow graves in the middle of the Mojave. Besides, I don’t know how you would even begin to plan a wedding…” Her voice trails off, slightly embarrassed that she isn’t prepared with this information already.

“That’s fine. We can get a wedding planner. My mom can help, our sisters can too. I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine.”

“You’re not going to help?”

“Oh, I’ll be giving input on the important things. Cake flavor, what’s being served for dinner, of course, the booze, and the honeymoon… But the only thing that matters to me is that we're legally married by the end of the night. I don’t care what it looks like to get us there, just as long as you like it.”

Her face twists deeper, unhappy at the thought of having to make all the decisions by herself. “So, if I make our colors Barbie pink and vomit yellow, force you to wear a kilt that’s five inches long – even though you’re not Scottish – and insist that we decorate with nothing but rare and expensive orchids that you’re extremely allergic to, you’re going to be good with that?”

“I’m fine with all of that.” He smirks at the surprise and annoyance on her face. “Oh, don’t be shocked, sweetheart. Like I said, whatever you want. Happy wife, happy life, and all that. Anything else before I propose, you say yes, and we live mildly ever after?”

“One more thing.”

“Anything for you, my dear.” His teasing tone makes her smile briefly, but it disappears as quickly as it came, her expression hardening.

“This one stays between us,” she nods towards the kitchen.

“Out, now.” His men move immediately, the soon-to-be-married couple watching them file out the back door.

She turns to him once it clicks shut, face made of stone and eyes full of fire. “I don’t care how it gets done. If you do it yourself, if you have someone else do it, it can be messy, or you can make it look like an accident – maybe it looks like a heart attack. I don’t care. But the first time the opportunity presents itself: you kill my father.”

The Hangman appears before her very eyes, his smile sending chills down her spine and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. For the first time all evening, she truly sees the blonde in front of her as the ruthless, cold-blooded man he’s known to be.

“Anything for you, my dear.”

tagging:

credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick AU #top gun fic #top gun AU #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #anything for you #anything for you fic #AFY fic #elle writes

74 notes · View notes

rose-of-the-grave · 2 months

Text

The Wait Was Worth It

Pairing: Lily x James

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you enjoy and as always I'm the author (please don't repost).

Jily Gift Exchange 2024

@siriuslychessi

Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: Friends to lovers, idiots in love, miscommunication, angst, fluff, secret admirer, pining, slow burn, happy ending, Valentine's day, love confessions, and kissing

Word Count: 3,374

Description: James is trying to move on. Lily thinks it's too late. With some help from their friends them might finally be on the same page.

Taglist: @sylveryfire

It was Lily Evans’ seventh year at Hogwarts and the infamous NEWTs were rapidly approaching. In an effort to do well she, along with some of her friends, had been studying together. Among these friends was James Potter. Over the course of the last year or so they had become tentative friends. At first it had been awkward considering Lily had spent years hating him but they had eventually reached a common ground in their mutual friend, Remus.

Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, James, Remus, and Sirius had all decided upon spending time at the library after classes to study. They were an odd group to be sure but surprisingly they got on fairly well. This was why Lily was preparing her notes to take with her to the library when an owl appeared at her dorm window.

She didn’t normally receive much mail, usually just letters from her parents. She had never gotten a letter from her sister, Petunia, except for holidays and even then it had become far scarcer as the years went on and the two of them grew further apart. It was for this reason that Lily was quite shocked to see that the letter was from her sister.

After spending a few minutes just staring blankly at the contents of the envelope she slid it into a drawer and left for the study session.

When she reached the common room she was surprised to see only James, Sirius, and Marlene.

“Hey, I’m ready to go. Where’s Remus and Dorcas?”

They turned towards her with guilty expressions.

“Remus was invited to study with some Ravenclaws and Dorcas,” James looked over at Marlene who turned to look at her and said, “She has detention.”

“Oh. So it’ll just be the four of us then?”

“Three. I also have detention.” Marlene said before hurrying out of the common room.

“Make that two.” James turned to look at Sirius who then continued, “Last minute Quidditch practice.”

And so Lily and James were left standing awkwardly in the Gryffindor common room while their friends ditched them.

“So…” Lily trailed off.

“Yeah.” He agreed, scratching at the back of his neck. Neither of them were quite sure why but it was evident that their friends had all collectively decided to do something else.

“How come you don’t have Quidditch but Sirius does?”

“I’m not exactly sure.” He laughed nervously. James had a feeling Sirius wasn’t actually going to play Quidditch, the same way Lily suspected that neither Marlene nor Dorcas had detention. If they had then they would have told her earlier. No, none of them had been telling the truth, that was clear.

What they couldn’t figure out was why their friends had done so. Determined to still study they soon decided to head to the library regardless of their friends’ plotting.

The two of them sat at one of the tables in the library and studied separately for about an hour before Lily could no longer focus. Sure James had at one point started to make paper airplanes and raced them against each other but she had somehow managed to remain mostly focused on her History of Magic notes. The words started to blur and all she could think about was her sister. She sighed. Eventually she would have to send a response but for now all she could think about was just how distant they were. She and Petunia used to be so close before Lily had gotten her Hogwarts letter.

Now they were strangers.

“What’s on your mind?” James asked.

Startled, she looked up at him, “What?”

“You just sighed again, what is it?”

“Oh. It’s nothing.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but just know that I’m willing to listen if you do want to talk.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

They both turned back to their respective studies, ignoring each other once more. How on earth could the history of magic be so boring? Lily had always thought that it was just the teacher but now she realized it was also the material. It listed everything matter of factly without really examining other perspectives. Out of all magic creatures one would think that there was no way dragons could ever be boring. They would be wrong.

Desperate for a distraction, she allowed her thoughts to wander. Inevitably she started to think of home. She missed her parents. This past Christmas she had been told that they would be too busy for her to come visit but she had still wanted to see them. They had been gone for most of the time and their minds had all seemed preoccupied whenever they did have some quiet time to simply catch up.

Lily sighed.

“Merlin’s sake Evans. Just tell me.”

Her cheeks flushed from embarrassment, James hadn’t exactly been quiet and now the whole library was staring at them. Once they all got bored everybody returned to what they had been doing previously.

“I got a letter from my sister.”

“Oh, what about?” They hadn’t been friends long but he did know a little about her rocky relationship with Petunia.

“It was actually a wedding invitation.”

“I gather you’re not happy about that?”

“Well, I’m happy that she’s getting married. Personally, I don’t really like her fiance, but if he makes her happy then fine.”

“So, what’s the issue?”

“That’s all that was sent. An invitation. No note, no letter, nothing. I guess I should count myself lucky that she even sent me an invitation. I know that we don’t get along that well anymore but I thought that she would at least send something more than just a piece of paper saying that I am cordially invited to her wedding.” As she ranted, she did her best to keep her voice low. With every word, she grew more upset.

He winced, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not even sure why I’m so surprised.” Lily shook her head and closed the book in front of her. “You know what, maybe I should go lie down and rest. I can study over the weekend.”

James stood up and gathered up his things. “I’ll go with you. I think I’m done for the day.”

They both put their books away and left the library in silence. It wasn’t that far of a walk from the library to the Gryffindor common room. There were still some people in the hall but Lily assumed most were outside. It was a fairly nice day out so most of the younger students were probably out there having fun. She remembered when that used to be them. Now it was hard to believe that there was a time when they weren’t stressed about tests.

The common room was mostly empty, their friends still missing. James walked her over to the bottom of the stairs before stopping. She turned around to face him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugged. “It’s what friends do.”

Friends. It was still a bit odd to think that she and James Potter were friends.

“Still, thanks.” She hesitated before asking, “Can I have a hug?”

He smiled. Merlin, why did she have to pick that moment to notice that he was attractive? She knew subconsciously that he wasn’t hard on the eyes, she had been well aware of that fact for two years now but she had always just ignored that fact. Now, it was staring her right in the face both literally and figuratively.

He wrapped her tightly in his arms, enveloping her in his scent, the same scent that she had struggled to recognize the year before in the Amortentia. Thanks to her being a bit shorter than him he was able to tuck her head underneath his chin. She had thought that hugging him might be weird but it simply seemed natural.

They stood there, hugging for a minute or two before she pulled away.

“See you at dinner.” She said, taking a step up the stairs without turning.

“See you Lily.”

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

It was a regular Friday morning. The great hall was full of hungry, exhausted students grabbing something to eat before heading to their classes. After a very long night of studying Lily could barely keep her eyes open. When she left the dorm Marlene had still been half asleep and extremely cranky.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table she watched as her friends all sat in various states of exhaustion. Dorcas was sitting on one side of her, James on the other. Remus and Sirius were sitting across from them. Lily had been surprised to see them all out of bed in time for breakfast, it wasn’t uncommon for one or two of them to get to the great hall late to grab a quick snack before running to class.

Remus sighed, “I wish you'd just admit when you've made a mistake.”

James, stirring his coffee serenely, replied, “I prefer it with salt.”

He raised his mug to his mouth and took a sip without flinching.

“Do you ever drink so much coffee that you feel kinda dizzy, then the world is moving in slow motion, and then you're drifting through space and time, and then you can see everything and nothing while being lost in the void?” Sirius mused.

James looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “...No?” while Remus nodded.

“Excuse me? Hi.”

They all turn around to see a Hufflepuff standing there. Lily was fairly certain they had Potions together.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

James was facing away from Lily, and she heard him say, “Sure.”

He turned back towards his friends.

Dorcas was the first to say something, “Did you just say yes to a date this weekend?”

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?” He asked, looking around in bewilderment.

“It’s Valentine’s Day.” Remus said.

“Oh.” He turned pink.

Suddenly Lily’s food became very interesting.

After a few seconds the conversation resumed but Lily wasn’t focused on it.

Dorcas nudged her gently, “Hey, I’m going to take Marlene some food.”

“Okay, see you in Potions.”

“See ya.”

Dorcas got up and walked away, holding some food. Lily turned back to her food, making eye contact with Remus. She arched her eyebrow in question and he simply flicked his eyes over to her right where James sat in deep conversation with Sirius about penguins.

“I’m just saying, what’s the point if they can’t fly?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled.

The great hall had started to empty, students heading to their first class of the day. Standing up, she looked over at Remus and said, “Come on, don’t want to be late.”

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

“So, you’re going out with that Hufflepuff tomorrow?” Sirius asked from where he lay on the ground of their dorm.

James sighed, “Yeah, guess so.”

“You don’t seem that enthusiastic.”

“I’m just tired.” He yawned before asking,”Did you think that Lily was ignoring me earlier?”

“Now that you mention it she was acting a little off.”

“I wonder what’s up with her.”

Remus snorted from where he sat on the bed.

James looked over at him, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“You know something, don’t you?”

Remus shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Oh, come on Moony, tell us.” Sirius said. “Poor Prongs might go mad if he doesn’t know.” He joked.

James threw a pillow at him.

“Maybe if you’d been paying attention, you’d know.”

James tossed one of the other pillows at him.

Sirius retorted, “You know what? We're clever too, Moony.”

Remus laughed, “Oh yeah? What's the difference between a gamete and a zygote?”

James, narrowing his eyes, warned his friends, “Don't fall for it, Padfoot. He's just making up words.”

“Seriously, what is it?”

“Siriusly.” Sirius chimed in.

Remus groaned, “Not again.”

Sirius just grinned. That joke never got old.

“Fine, but you can’t tell her that I said anything okay?”

“Just tell me already.”

“So she didn’t actually say anything.” He started, “But when that Hufflepuff came over during breakfast this morning she started acting a little weird. At first I was sure it was nothing but maybe it was.”

“What are you saying?”

“Figure it out, that’s all I’m going to say.”

James pondered over what little his friend had said before coming to the conclusion that maybe Lily didn’t get along with this particular Hufflepuff.

“Does Lily not like her?” He asked.

Remus shook his head, “I give up.”

“What? Tell me.”

“Maybe she likes you.” Sirius suggested.

“Who, Lily? No. She doesn’t.”

“I’m right aren’t I?” Sirius asked Remus. “You think she was jealous.”

James turned, wide-eyed, to face him. “Wait, really?”

He tried his best to not get too hopeful, he and Lily were friends. He was fairly certain that that was all she would see him as and he didn’t plan to wait around any longer just to get his heart broken. He was trying to move on. But maybe, just maybe there was a chance after all. He couldn’t deny that being her friend had made him like her even more than he had before. She was easily one of the best people he knew.

“Like I said, I don't know for sure.” Remus warned.

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

Lily spent her Saturday morning trying to be as productive as possible, not wanting to think about a certain fellow Gryffindor and his date. That didn’t last long though. Soon enough Marlene and Dorcas were telling her that they should go to Hogsmeade instead of spending their weekend sitting around in the castle. Reluctantly, Lily got dressed to go with them, abandoning her studies for the next day.

“Come on, it’s finally nice out!” Marlene said.

The flowers were starting to bloom and the sun was shining down on them. It was still a bit chilly but she was right, it was nice out.

The trio walked along the path to Hogsmeade, Lily hanging back a bit while her two best friends excitedly discussed their plans for later. Why did Valentine’s Day have to exist? All it did was give everybody the opportunity to rub their relationships in people’s faces. She loved her friends, but she just wished that she didn’t feel just a little bit jealous every time they went to hang out with their girlfriends or boyfriends.

Lily was happy for them, really she was but she couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter.

When they reached Hogsmeade they went to get some candy before going to get butterbeer. They were all seated in the corner when Lily spotted a few familiar faces.

“Hey, come join us!” She waved at Remus and Sirius. That’s when she saw James, who had previously been hidden behind them. All three of them joined and they all started to talk. When Marlene brought up the date. A few minutes later Lily excused herself, saying she felt tired and that she was going back to the castle.

She stood up, pulling her coat back on.

“See you guys later.”

“Wait, I’ll walk with you.” James offered.

“No, that’s fine. You wouldn’t want to miss your date, would you?” She smiled thinly, trying to seem like she was fine.

Soon after James said that he wasn’t feeling well and that he was going back up to the castle as well.

“What about your date?” Marlene asked.

“I’ll let her know that I couldn’t make it.” He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Once he was gone, the four remaining friends all exchanged glances.

“Merlin, their idiots!” Dorcas exclaimed.

“Yeah. James isn’t even going on that date, he canceled last night.” Sirius informed them.

“Wait, really?” Marlene asked.

“Yeah.” Remus said. “At this point, I don’t think that they are ever going to realize that they both like each other.”

“I know, right. Marls and I are sick and tired of hearing about Potter this and Potter that. She’ll go on and on about him but the minute we imply that she likes him she starts getting defensive.”

He agreed, saying, “James isn’t much better. He keeps saying that he’s moved on but when I mentioned how weird Lily started acting after he got asked out he kept on asking if we thought she liked him.”

Marlene adds, “And have you seen the way they look at each other when they think the other isn’t looking? I swear they are so oblivious it's embarrassing.”

“Maybe we should lock them up in a room together and not let them out until they admit that they have a crush on each other.” Sirius said.

Remus relied, “Or we could just arrange for them to meet up with each other. I mean, it is Valentine’s. Maybe if we could make them each think that they have a secret admirer or something.”

“We could send them each a note telling them to meet them up at the Astronomy Tower or something.” Dorcas offers.

“That’s actually a great idea.” Marlene said. “Let’s do this.

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

When Lily and James got back to their respective dorms they were each surprised to see a red rose sitting next to a note on their beds. Both told them to meet them up on the Astronomy Tower and were signed “From your secret admirer”.

Grabbing their wands, they both headed there. Lily got there first and started to look around, wondering who had sent the note. After a few minutes she got bored and decided to sit down and wait to see who showed up. An eternity later she finally heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Keeping her wand out and ready she waited patiently for the person to reveal themselves.

“James?” She asked incredulously.

“Lily? What are you doing here?”

“Meeting someone. What are you doing here?”

“The same.” James admitted.

“Oh.”

There was a long and awkward silence before Lily remembered something.

“So, how was your date?”

There was a long pause before he replied, “I didn’t end up going.”

“Oh. Why not?” She asked, trying not to seem too curious.

He shrugged, “I liked someone else.”

She looked over at him. She knew it would hurt but she had to ask, had to know.

“Who?”

His eyes flicked up to hers. He looked like he was about to say something but then he didn’t. His jaw clenched. James sighed and looked away again.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Is it someone I know?” She asked.

He hesitated before saying, “Yes.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s just…I’m pretty sure that they don’t like me back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That sucks.” She said while wishing that she was that person.

“Yeah.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m sort of in a similar situation.”

He looks at her, confused. “Who couldn’t love you? You’re beautiful and smart and kind. Whoever it is, they’re an idiot.”

“Thanks but it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Furrowing his brow, he walked closer to her, suddenly towering over her from where she sat on the ground. “Who is it?”

“You.” She muttered underneath her breath, far too quiet for him to hear.

“What?” He asked, sitting down next to her.

“You.” She looked down, not meeting his gaze. Did she really just say that out loud?

He said nothing. After a few beats she finally looked back up, wondering what he was thinking. Did he no longer want to be friends with her? Did he hate her?

He lifted a hand to her cheek, wiping a stray tear that was rolling down her face. Leaning in slowly, he brushed his lips against hers.

“I like you too.”

She smiled, pulling him back in for a kiss.

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

The next morning when they awoke, they were surrounded by their friends. After spending some more time up in the Astronomy Tower they had walked back to the common room but decided to sleep on one of the couches, not wanting the night to be over.

“Morning.” Sirius said with a shit eating grin.

They both flushed, looking back at each other and smiling. James wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It might have been seven years since they first met and James fell head over heels for Lily but they could both agree that the wait was worth it.

16 notes · View notes