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nitewrighter · 2 years

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Cindy Part 13

As always, for all parts, please refer to the masterpost.

This is it. Man I wish I could have something cool and goofy to say to offset all the emotions I’m feeling right now, but I’m gonna be honest, I’ve gotten really attached to this story, and I’m deeply touched by all of your enthusiasm and connection in reading it. This story was born out of frustrations of bad-faith readings of fairy tales, and... I dunno, over the course of writing it, it very quickly stopped being about frustrations with those bad-faith readings and more about telling a story because you love people. You love people because they’re messy and complicated and, like stories, they’ve got holes in them that make them all sorts of different things to different people depending on how different people in your life fill those holes. Does that make sense? I’m immediately realizing that that the ‘filling holes’ metaphor could be interpreted in a very interesting way but I can’t really think of a better metaphor but my point is... thank you all for staying with me this long. Love or hate the ending, I’ll see you guys on the other side.

Content warnings for major character death and... wait for it... eye trauma.

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There is a royal wedding. You don’t throw the words “Intended Bride” around in a royal decree going out to the whole kingdom and not have a Royal wedding. Both the King and Cindy are absolutely delighted to plan the whole thing and admittedly they kind of butt heads over aesthetics and the menu at first but eventually they figure things out and my god the king adores her. The prince is a little embarrassed about the whole thing but oh boy he’s more than happy to have a couple extra dancing lessons with Cindy, parse out some event logistics with moving the wedding party from point A to point B and arranging for everyone’s safe exit from the party to local inns and estates and the appropriate after-parties with Brad and Gabe, as well as taste-testing some samples for the reception catering (THE PRINCE GETS HIS PIES, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN).

Eunice paints Cindy and the Prince’s new portrait in the weeks leading up to the wedding—it looks much better than his old one—some say it’s because he looks a lot happier in this one, others say it’s because he’s looking at his fiancee in the portrait, which gives a much better angle to his jawline. Cindy is smiling out at the viewer of the painting, a rat in a dapper miniature guard uniform jacket on her shoulder.

The wedding itself is a fascinatingly egalitarian affair, outdoors in the palace gardens. The official ring bearer is a rat, sitting on its haunches with a ring in its little rat hands, carried on a velvet pillow by one of the king’s younger grand-nephews. The reception is catered by both the palace and some of Cindy’s favorite food stalls in the market. Kids of all classes are running around barefoot on the palace lawns and polished little heirs and scrubbed-raw ragamuffins alike are shoving child-fist sized bouquets ravaged from the gardens at the happy bride and nicking tarts from the buffet table. The queen’s privateers show up to the reception with kegs of rum and cool-ass fire-breathers and acrobats from far-off lands and they break into a musical number as is their custom. The local cheesemonger is rocketed to widespread fame and fortune through the sheer force of their le chevrot and is honestly unsure how they feel about it. It’s such a perfect combo of joy and chaos that even the king’s hardcore party-planning ass gets caught up in all the fervor of the event and he goes nuts on the dance floor and pulls the queen into it, too!

Dutiful Wine daughter is there and she catches the bouquet! Good for her! And she goes on to be the royal sommelier so actually she and Cindy are good friends and they have girls’ nights and sleepovers and Cindy just adores all of Dutiful Wine Daughter’s siblings. Eunice hangs out with them too because she has an ongoing commission with the palace of painting rats in fancy outfits next to bonsai trees and honestly she didn’t get out that much either prior to all this shoe stuff and it’s cool having friends. Prints of her rat-and-bonsai-tree paintings are extremely popular as a status symbol with both old families and the nouveau riche. Eunice honestly wishes her gay-as-hell mythological nudes were her bigger artistic legacy, but hey, y’know that’s how shit works when you’re a creative. You take what you can get.

Now, could I have the stepfam crash the wedding with the intent of humiliating Cinderella and then have a flock of fairy-possessed starlings peck their eyes out to the horror of the entire kingdom? I mean honestly that would be fucking metal but I don’t think Cindy wants to see any eyes pecked out on her big day. And also everyone else was having a blast so that would be a real downer. Even if they are abusive assholes. And you KNOW my man Brad has security for the event locked down pat! Oh the stepfam tried, but they weren’t getting in. The stepmother even tried hitting Brad with “Let me speak to your manager,” which is when Gabe showed up like, “Oh hello, Madam. You may remember me, I’m the King’s Valet, and I had some questions about your deceased husband’s estate.” (Cue anime glasses glint). And that’s when the stepfam was like, “Actually we were just leaving.” So they go home to their increasingly filthy estate, growing piles of laundry, and absolute jungle of a garden.

Meanwhile, after a cozy little wedding night where they crack open a certain bottle of port with a unicorn on the label, Cindy and the Prince honeymoon at sea with the queen’s privateers. To put it mildly, it is a wild ride. And I could go into all the sword-fighting and musical numbers and rat shadow puppet theater and the prince wearing those slutty puffy shirts with the pec cleavage and also the passionate kisses next to sunsets on glittering seas, but we’re just going to shift the camera to the stepfam for a second here—I know, I know, they suck but don’t worry, Cindy and the prince are fine, and you gotta give a couple some privacy on their honeymoon, you know?

See, quality of life on the estate quickly plummets without Cindy doing… well.. literally everything. There’s no one cooking, no one cleaning, no one doing the laundry, no one gardening, and it doesn’t take long for the Stepfam to get at each others’ throats real fast. Their house is no longer in a suitable state for them to have anyone over—they have no one cooking to serve food to guests and the whole place looks like shit—one might say the garden got out of control with almost supernatural speed, and without anyone doing laundry, they quickly run out of clothes to make themselves presentable in public. By the time they actually miserably figure out laundry? Every family of fashion has spent the last two months talking about how the royal wedding was the most exciting social event of the season—or, in one case, about how their son eloped with a foxy acrobat that came with the privateers. The stepfam does two (2) loads of laundry and like… four miserable attempts at cooking and one wretched attempt at dishes before they go, “Okay fuck it, we’ll use the gold the palace gave us to hire a new servant.” So they put on their muddy, unwashed cloaks and put out fliers under cover of night. Eventually a handful of candidates show up to the house, but the conversation always goes the same—or at least some variation of it.

“I’m sorry, you expect me to do… all this… and you’re only offering me this level of payment?”

“As well as room and board!” The stepmother blurts out.

“…in the basement. It’s freezing down there—are you at least going to get thicker bedding?”

“There’s a hearth!”

“Well yeah, but you built the bed into an alcove on the far side of the room. What am I gonna do, sleep in the ashes? On the hearthstones?? Those are literal rocks!”

“But—”

“And you know this contract doesn’t say anything about overtime or weekends.”

“What the hell is a weekend?”

And the candidate would press their hands together like, “Look, lady, even if I was crazy and desperate enough to take this job, which I’m not, the conditions you’re outlining literally aren’t legal.”

“Luh… legal??”

“Yeah! Haven’t you heard about the DDWR?”

“The what?”

“The Decree of Domestic Workers’ Rights? It was ratified as soon as the prince and princess consort wed! Why do you think the whole kingdom was celebrating? Literally 75% of the shit you’re describing with this job is well outside of its parameters! 95% if you were really being serious about the basement shit!”

“P-princess… Consort…” the stepmother repeats.

“Anyway—like, for me it boiled down to this job or a leather tannery, and to be honest, you’ve made the leather tannery look way more attractive. But anyway, best of luck with revising your contract to meet DDWR standards. I’m out.”

And that happened about 5 times. Except replace “leather tannery” with “fishmonger’s underling who deals mostly in cleaning out the guts” or “dyer’s apprentice whose job more or less guarantees your arms will be a weird teal-y gray up to the elbows” or “Bog witch’s apprentice even though damp environments wreak havoc on my complexion.”

So once again the stepfam was up shit-creek without a paddle. Except the younger stepsister got a very bright idea of “Well, Cinderella did all that because she had nowhere else to go, right? All we need is someone we know has nowhere else to go! And if they’re young enough, they aren’t protected by that DD-whatever!”

And Stepmother is like, “Finally a decent idea!” And she looks at the elder stepsister like “Why didn’t you think of that? Did your brain bleed out of your toe-stubs?” So the Stepfam takes off for the local orphanage.

It’s not nearly as miserable and depressing as they were expecting. They can hear faint singing in one of the buildings, they pass by a classroom where a bunch of orphans are eagerly raising their hands at an arithmetic question, and out in the yard, one of the nuns is overseeing a bunch of cute grubby orphans working on the garden and congratulating them on cultivating excellent bean sprouts. The stepfam is steered to a directory office where they’re greeted by an unfortunately familiar face. The stepmother doesn’t immediately pick up on the rising dread at the stepsisters’ reactions on seeing a girl they had previously described to the prince as ‘looking like she was either going to cry or piss herself.’ Amelia looks fucking great—she’s a novice, not a nun yet, but it’s clear she’s found a really good environment for herself—all bright eyes and cheery smiles and the kind of customer service politeness you would find in a Waffle House waitress who has SEEN IT ALL. And there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes at the stepsisters that tells the stepsisters, “Oh we’re fucked.”

“So!” Amelia tents her fingers, “You want to adopt one of our orphans. That’s great! Well, as soon as you pass our vetting process, we can set up meetings with children we think are best suited to your living situation.”

“V-vetting process?” The stepmother is remembering their house currently looks like absolute shit right now.

“Well, yes! Making sure the child is brought up in a clean, loving, and caring environment is first priority!” Amelia tilts her head cheerfully.

“We were hoping to just get an orphan as soon as possible,” the stepmother stammers, “You know how these children are so desperate for a home…Oh! And we’d like an older child—you know how it’s harder for the older children to get adopted—”

“But not too old,” the younger stepsister chimes in, “And strong, too.”

“Oh who doesn’t want a good home!” Amelia agrees, “However, with the OPA in place, there are ongoing vetting processes to make sure the children’s needs are being met.”

“The what?”

“The OPA? The Orphan Protection Act? It was ratified with the marriage of the prince and princess consort?”

“Her again…” the stepmother seethes.

“This act also granted massive amounts of funding to the support and building of orphanages so that we can provide the best possible environment until these children can find a home that truly loves them! Isn’t that wonderful?” Amelia’s shoulders bunch up all cute but the Stepmother is just bluescreening again with a high-pitched note screaming in one ear.

“So we can’t even get some useless gutter rat to do what needs to be done?” The stepmother huffs under her breath.

“I’m sorry, what did you call our children?” Amelia tilts her head.

“Nothing,” the stepmother draws herself up from her seat. “We were just leaving.”

So like, another couple months pass for the stepfam, and like… shit gets weird and resentful. I think the stepmother started blaming the elder stepsister for fucking everything up with losing her toes, but like… it’s not exactly the eldest stepsister’s fault her toes were the ones bitten off, nor that she kicked the shoe off and shattered it in response. The fairy godmother hated them all for what they did to Cindy, so any one of them would have gotten their foot mangled by the shoe if they tried it on. The elder stepsister was just.. the first. But you don’t think rationally when your heart is full of resentment. If your heart doesn’t know what it loves, what it’s fighting for, then it just… fucking starts eating itself and gnashing out at anything close to it. And that’s how shit was with the stepfam. They were able to support themselves for a while by extorting gold from the palace for the eldest sisters’ ‘Medical expenses,’ but eventually the eldest stepsister had enough, left the house, married some sideshow owner at the pier, and eventually sent a letter to Cindy saying, “Hey, I don’t live with the stepfam anymore, so if they’re asking for money on my behalf, they’re full of shit. Also sorry for forcing you to do literally all the work around the house while insulting you on a daily basis or something. I guess. I don’t care if you actually forgive me. Don’t bother writing back.”

Cindy does draft up several nice responses but eventually opts to just respect the ‘don’t write back’ wishes. The palace sends a polite letter to the stepmother congratulating her on her daughter’s wedding and saying they’re so glad she found someone to take care of her in spite of her medical expenses, and sending one final, decent-sized sack of gold as a ‘wedding gift’ even though they know the stepmother is just going to spend it on herself. Sometimes it’s not about forgiveness and redemption, sometimes you don’t know if this horrible person became a better person, sometimes you’re just glad they’re getting distance from a horrible situation.

And boy is it horrible.

The house is dilapidated as hell—we’re talking some Miss Havisham in Great Expectations shit. The Royal Restraining Order basically blocks the stepfam from attending crucial upper-class social events—aside from like, some horse races, and the regatta, and a good number of more middle-class social events, but they would never lower themselves to such sorry appearances!! To rubbing elbows with such riffraff! No sir! But eventually… it gets easier and easier for all the respectable families of the kingdom to just… stop inviting them to shit. So they’re in a filthy house, that’s basically rotting at this point for lack of maintenance, eating burned and undercooked and unseasoned or over seasoned food and regularly insulting each other over how they could stand to let them live in such a state. The older stepsister has already dipped but about a year later, eventually the younger sister can’t stand it anymore, scrapes up as much of her jewelry as she can sell, and takes off in the dead of night. I don’t actually know what happens to her. Like if you want to give her a whole redemption arc or whatever, go ahead, but all you’re going to get from me is a big fat question mark.

But the Stepmother? I can tell you what happens there, and I can tell you it’s not pretty.

Like, even if all of her interactions with her daughters were horrible arguments towards the end, like… at least that’s other people to like.. bounce off of, you know? At least there are other people around who, even if you’re all miserable together, give you a common sense of reality. When you’re all alone, and when you’re already miserable and bitter and completely convinced the world is punishing you and that has nothing to do with what you’re putting out into the world? Woof. Shit gets weird. Shit gets dark. I mean, the labor situation isn’t as bad when you’re just cooking and cleaning for yourself, but this is a big fucking house with a big fucking garden—it’s not designed for one person to live in and maintain. So whole wings of the house are closed off—furniture is covered with sheets—but more and more of the rooms are getting barer and barer as the stepmother is selling off furniture just to keep herself fed, hire drifters for one-off odd jobs, and keep up minimum appearances.

Maybe if the stepmother wasn’t so concerned about “riffraff” it might occur to her to lease out some rooms to tenants, but honestly the house is in such shit shape, it’s hard to imagine who’d really be willing to stay there.

The stepmother is pacing through the house, and every time she hears the wind through the hazel tree outside, every time she hears the chirps of starlings (and god, they’re getting louder) she swears it sounds like mocking laughter, or a coo of ‘Have you remembered to do the dishes?’ (The dishes are molding over in the sink—all the mold is probably not helping the mental health factor), or that it even sounds like Cindy’s goddamned singing.

And then, one night, when the stepmother is in bed, and the rain is pounding the half-rotted window frames, and there’s a cacophony of ‘tink tink tink tink tinks’ because the roof is leaking and she’s set out all of these pots and pans to catch the drips. The wind is howling through the hazel tree’s boughs, and it sounds like Cindy’s fucking singing again… and then, the Stepmother gets this grand revelation—The Hazel tree! That damned hazel tree that her stupid dead husband planted because he never actually loved her! He only ever loved the mother of that stupid little rat girl! The hazel tree is the ghost of that girl’s mother cursing her! It’s been so clear all along! So she springs out of her moth-eaten sheets and she races down the stairs, not even bothering to put a robe over her nightgown, out to into the mud of their fucking jungle of a garden which the semi-starved chickens now roam like mini-velociraptors themselves. The stepmother glares up at the hazel tree and then she furiously sludges through the mud over to the garden shed where she pulls out the axe she used to make Cindy chop firewood with. It’s very rusted at this point (and god her house is so fucking cold), but it’s good enough. It has to be good enough. Gripping the axe, snarling through her teeth, the stepmother goes to the hazel tree. She hefts up the axe for that first swing and hurls it down and THOK it bites hard and deep and cruel into the bark. Rain is pelting down on the stepmother and lightning flashes, but she doesn’t care. THOK. She strikes the tree again.

So like…you remember that whole bit I had about like, Fairy Godmothers being pretty dang strict about using magic to do ‘good’ and not focusing on curses and punishments? Like of course it was a whole thing because the Fairy Godmother herself emerged from a magic that was born from a very deep pain and grief—but Fairy Godmother actively chose to try and be a positive force in Cindy’s life because being a cruel fairy would just make things harder for Cindy. So even if she has to put up with lectures from other fairies, even fairy godmother’s vengeful, furious, bitter little ass is willing to try and be the bigger person for Cindy’s sake. So she really wasn’t doing anything to make the stepfam’s life harder—aside from the garden getting out of control really fast--but that’s more of a typical side effect of fae presence rather than an active act—but also she was mostly focusing on building back her juice after all the whizzbangs of the ball and the growing number of birds were more like a charging battery icon in this case. So she was literally minding her own business! But my point is—the Fairy Godmother code of “We don’t curse and punish people” goes right out the window when it’s a matter of self-defense.

And the stepmother was fucking with a tree she should not be fucking with.

The birds descended on her like a meteor shower. So many clawed little feet and beating wings and pecking beaks. The stepmothers’ screams were drowned out by cracking thunder and screaming birds and the boughs of the hazel tree moaning in the wind, and as a bit of a mercy by virtue of her own stress and malnourishment, the stepmother passed out at the peak of the worst of the pain. Rain still pounding down on her, her face staring blindly up at the sky, not even seeing the flashes of lightning. Pink water was crowning and overflowing out of her clawed out eye sockets. She was found moaning in the mud the next morning by someone duck hunting with their dog in the irrigation ditches nearby. She was carried inside her crumbling manse, dressed in the driest warmest clothes she had, her hollow, bloodied eye sockets covered with gauze, but fever had already well set-in, and her breaths were already shallow with pneumonia. I’ve mentioned before that this is a time when a cold at the wrong time of year can very much kill you—this is being out in the cold and rain with your eyes clawed out—open head wounds with the agony of exposed optic nerves.

A messenger was sent to the palace and, despite the prince’s assurances that “You don’t have to be there—” Cindy rushed over, along with the best doctors she could haul with her. And the prince followed after her because goddammit he worries about her! And he knows that whole situation’s fucked up!!

“I think you should hang back,” Cinderella pats his arm as they head up the stairs of her old house.

“But—” he starts.

“I… I can do this. It’s going to be okay,” she kisses him on the cheek, “I’m not scared.”

The prince presses his lips together with distress and Cindy goes, “Okay yes I’m very scared but… I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he says and he hangs back as she enters the room.

“Stepmother?”

The room is dimly lit. It’s overcast outside.

“Who is that? Who’s here?” The stepmother’s head is swinging around.

“Your highness, you should keep your distance,” the physician warns, his mouth and nose covered by a kerchief, “We don’t know if she’s infectious.”

“Highness?!” The stepmother squawks.

“It’s… me, stepmother,” says Cindy, maintaining a few steps away from the stepmother’s bed.

“Cinderella?”

Cindy feels like she’s really come to love her name in the two years she’s lived with it at the palace, but the way the stepmother says it still makes her stomach tighten.

“Yes, stepmother.” Cindy lets out a steadying exhale.

“I suppose I’ll be arrested now, as well, what with your 800 paces rule.”

“It’s been temporarily suspended, given the… circumstances,” Cindy fidgets with her fingers.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” The stepmother scoffs a derisive chuckle.

“No, no it isn’t what I want at all,” Cindy pushes a stray hair back.

“Don’t you play coy with me, you little witch—you and your singing. You and your rats. You and your—your cooking and sewing. You and your fucking tree. You—” the stepmother breaks into a wet coughing fit and Cindy instinctively takes half a step back, “You… You’ve been planning this for years, haven’t you?! I bet you made my daughters abandon me as well.”

“I—I haven’t. In fact, I’ve sent a letter to the elder and we have several men looking for the younger, so if you just hang on, I’m sure once they find out what’s happened, they’ll come too, and—”

“They won’t come, you little fool, you wretched—” the stepmother moans and presses the heels of her hands to her forehead.

“Please don’t strain yourself,” Cinderella says gently.

“All those laws you wrote… don’t act like you didn’t write them to spite me.”

“I didn’t write them to spite you—I had a lot of advisors to help draft the specific—”

“I don’t care!”

“Ma’am—” the physician starts.

“Shut up! No one asked you!” snaps the stepmother.

“I didn’t write those laws for just you or just me! I wrote those laws because I realized… I’m probably not the only ‘me’ and you’re not the only ‘you.’ I know I won’t be able to protect everyone, but if I can make a difference for at least a handful of people…” Cindy furrows her brow for a second, because she feels like what she’s saying right now is making sense, but it doesn’t seem to be making any significant impacts on the stepmother. Man, shit hits different when you’ve been living with people who actually listen to you.

The stepmother’s lips curl back from her teeth. “So you were still thinking about me when you drafted it…”

“Yes. I did believe that what you did to me shouldn’t be done to another person, and I did everything in my power to stop that,” Cindy huffs a little and looks around the room, “I think a part of me assumed you would still be fine in spite of that.” She looks at one of the pots on the floor with rainwater still in it from the leaky ceiling.

“And now you’re here to mock me at my lowest point.”

“I am not!” Cindy’s touching on a vein of anger within herself that she’s kept at bay with just calming breaths and there’s this flare of adrenaline in her, because she could punch down. She has every right to punch down, but she’s remembering a glamorous woman on her father’s arm, with two pretty girls hanging behind her skirts, and seeing her father’s fragile smile for the first time since her mother died, and all that is boiling down into a mild feeling of nausea.

“So what do you want?!” The stepmother demands.

“I don’t know, I just—I just thought you shouldn’t be alone,” Cinderella folds her arms tight across herself.

“You were the one who did this to me you rotten whelp!”

“I just made it so you would leave me alone! I don’t know what you did to yourself after!” Cindy blurts out furiously, but catches herself, “I’m sorry—you’re in so much pain already.”

“Oh shut up with your stupid, pathetic little morality play. Don’t act like this isn’t what you always wanted.”

Cinderella pushes her lips together. “This is never what I wanted. When I first met you…you seemed… so powerful and clever and beautiful and confident…and…I think I wanted to be like that, but mostly… I just wanted a mother.”

“A mother…?” The words float out of the stepmother, and like, even though there’s a band of gauze where her eyes once were, she fixes those bloody patches on Cindy, and Cindy suddenly gets this stinging memory of every time she assumed something good happening to her couldn’t be real, couldn’t be true, had to be some cruel trick because it was what she had known for so long. Maybe the stepmother couldn’t see Cinderella as her daughter because that would be too easy, too good to be true, and therefore, her only defense against something like that was quashing Cindy down. There’s a flicker of understanding, in that look between them, and Cindy sees the person she could have become, the person shaped by injustice and cruelty, had she not held onto the loving memory of her parents—Had she not had her little rat friends to comfort her, or even the Wonderful Hypothetical Party she was constantly planning in her head, had she not been able to shed her tears on that hazel tree. A short, breathy sound falls out of the stepmother, and at first, Cindy thinks she’s going to cry, but… it’s a chuckle. Then it seems to deepen and ripple in the stepmother’s already drowning chest, “A mother!” She declares again, like it’s the funniest punchline to the world’s longest joke, and that chuckle bubbles up into a full-on laugh interspersed with wet, hacking coughs. She’s laughing hysterically, the gauze over her eye sockets is darkening with fresh blood at the force of her laughs.

“Ma’am?!” The physician is stepping forward and Cindy is backing towards the door, but still the stepmother is convulsing with laughter.

The physician is calling for laudanum to calm her down, but suddenly that long peal of laughter seems to spiral and tighten in on itself like a tetherball whipping around the pole.

The stepmother dies laughing.

Cinderella stares at the still form in the bed, the physician fussing over her, trying to shake her back to consciousness, but there’s something about the way the stepmother’s features are frozen that tells Cindy it’s over. She sways on her feet for a few seconds, then blinks, and staggers to the door. As soon as she opens it the prince is taking her up in his arms, (of course his protective, fussy ass has been eavesdropping but also half frozen unsure whether to interfere because on one hand she said she’s got this but also holy fuck there’s a lot happening in there) and he’s pulling her out into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” he’s saying, “I should have come in, but I didn’t know if I would make it worse—I—you shouldn’t have been in there alone—”

“I’m fine,” her voice is hollow and blank, “I’m fine.”

“Cindy—” And there’s that mental log jam again, he wants it all to come out but it’s stuck in his throat. You’re not a fool. You’re not wretched. You’re not a rotten whelp. You’re not a witch. Actually you might be a witch because there’s still a lot I don’t know, but I don’t care if you are because if you are, you’re clearly a very nice one. But his mouth is just hanging stupidly open and he’s stammering a little.

“Can we go home?” She’s almost limp in his arms, not looking at him, “Please?”

They head out of the estate of Cindy’s father for the very last time, and they’re about to get into the carriage but Cindy, in a daze, unlaces her arm from the prince’s and kind of dizzily makes her way over to the hazel tree. She runs a hand over the two deep axe marks in the wood, “Are you okay?” She asks gently, “Did she hurt you?”

“Cindy?” The prince is deeply confused and concerned but his head jerks up as the hazel tree’s boughs creak and leaves rustle in a wind he can’t quite feel.

“You… didn’t have to do that for me…” Cinderella’s voice is a bit distant, “I’m not mad, I just…”

The tree rustles again and the prince is looking at the other trees surrounding the garden like, please tell me they’re moving in the wind, too.

Cindy’s neck cranes up at the boughs overhead. “Okay,” she says, “I—I understand. Take care of yourself.” And she gently kisses the bark before pushing away from the tree and kind of lightly, gracefully making her way back to the prince. The way she moves reminds him a bit of the fog that seemed to hang around her that night of the ball.

“Your um… your friend?” He asks a bit helplessly.

“Mm,” she just gets into the carriage and the prince mouths ‘What the fuck’ to Brad who just kind of shrugs before taking his place on the driver’s seat next to the carriage driver.

They go home. It’s a weird couple of days after that—they never really get in contact with the stepsisters, they send out news of the stepmother’s death but get nothing back, and Cindy’s staying in bed until noon for a couple days, but eventually she’s pulling herself to the palace gardens and to the stables and also she’s made a point of rescuing her now feral-ass chickens from her old estate and making sure they get back to their fat, happy selves. When she’s asked about the state of the house the stepmother left behind, Cindy just kind of blankly says, “It’s not mine anymore,” and everyone eventually accepts that that’s the answer she has to that.

Another few days pass. Servants say that Cindy’s eating more again and she and the prince can be heard quietly talking long into the small hours of the morning.

Another two weeks pass and Dutiful Wine Daughter and Eunice motion to whisk Cindy away for a few days by the sea. The prince voices some concerns but the queen 100% supports this girls’ trip and they depart. About a week and a half later, Cindy returns seeming a lot more energetic than she was before. Also she has a handful of cute new outfits—Cindy keeps forgetting she can actually buy clothes now—and loads of recipes for wine steamed mussels and chowders and fish fried in breadcrumbs, and also they have a little bowl of the mother yeast of the local sourdough which Cindy is very excited about.

A few more weeks pass and Cindy’s more or less back to her earnest, kindhearted self, still making her bed every morning (and of course roping the prince into it because it’s his bed too, dammit) still poking around and sometimes backseat-driving the palace kitchens, and still insisting on embroidering cutesy things into the guards’ uniforms when she notices a loose button or thinning elbows, not to mention she has her chickens to fuss over and rats to make cute clothes for—she’s still finding that no-filter self she had at the ball, but every so often it comes out and the prince gets the stupidest, most lovestruck grin on his face. She has the strength to show up to council meetings again, and the king and queen are very relieved to see her there.

I feel like we all have a very weird relationship with the term ‘happily ever after’ because like, life isn’t like that—that’s the term that’s come to breach suspension of disbelief even in a goddamn fairytale. Cindy’s put on some pounds at the palace and she looks great—like she doesn’t get as cold as easily, she doesn’t have that ‘orphan hollow eye socket’ thing going on, she doesn’t get dizzy when she stands up too fast, plus, her boobs look amazing. Fairy godmother would be proud. It isn’t just endless bliss forever because if it was like that, shit would be really fucking weird—if bliss is all you know, then is it actually bliss? I think you need the odd pain and argument and frustration and maybe even heartbreak here and there to really appreciate what you have, and for the record, Cindy and the prince overall have something really good—but like… they have an awareness about it—they know it’s a thing they both have to actively work on and be conscious of, because that’s actually how this shit works. Love takes patience and attention and work, but at the end of the day, it should be work that makes you feel satisfied with, both with yourself and your partner. It doesn’t have to be happily ever after—it’s quiet afternoons of listening to rain on the window and your partner reading aloud to you while you work on a new dress with some cool fabrics your mother-in-law got you because she saw them and thought of you. It’s you and your friends trying to go all ‘incognito’ because your cool friend found a cool new cafe downtown but the captain of the guard still insists on coming along for security reasons and god bless him he is trying to look like a civilian to maintain your facade but the man is fucking huge and everyone keeps flirting with him. It’s your father in-law’s valet quietly slipping you his footnotes on the drier texts of the kingdom’s legal history to help you get up to speed for another council meeting and you smiling at his snippy sarcastic little comments in the margins. It’s even headdesking at said boring as hell council meeting and your father-in-law quietly sliding you a cup of tea with a warm smile because yes, this stuff is boring but he’s pretty sure you’ll still get your motion to fill those potholes passed, just hang in there, kiddo. It’s good things and bad things and sometimes long stints of crazy shit—but the only constant is that you’re with people who love you and care about your well-being, and you love them, and want the best for them, too.

Now you’re probably asking, “okay but do Cindy and the Prince have kids? Because that was a pretty big deal for the king.” And I’m gonna leave that up to you. All you really need to know in that regard is that there’s a healthy hazel sapling in the royal gardens, and the king isn’t pressuring them nearly as much for grandkids as he thought he would be since they opened up those really high-grade cozy orphanages. The king reads books to the kids there, every Sunday. I’m like 80% sure the kids there don’t even know he’s the king, they just like that he does the voices. The queen still gets up to her usual adventures and bullshit, but actually does make more of an effort to include her family now, to mixed reactions from everyone. She plans on teaching Cindy fencing, or maybe boxing—that’s therapeutic, right? She’s sensitive—she knows she is. She’s going to be the best mother-in-law ever, goddammit.

Meanwhile Cindy and the Prince will sometimes spend a day riding horses together, they go through fields and through the woods and cut crazy paths between village roads and farmland footpaths, and sometimes, they ride down a road where a while back, a pumpkin bounced along and exploded on, and they ride that road until they reach a big, familiar house, crumbling with neglect. There’s a hazel tree there, and it’s grown so big it’s practically growing on the house.

The tree looks like it’s eating the house.

The End.

#Cinderella #Cindy may have opened a Fae hellmouth but don't worry because Fairies only go after mean and naughty people! Good night kids!!#Oh fairies also go after people they arbitrarily don't like but i'm sure you'll be fiiiine... sleep well!#maybe TWO fae hellmouths #imagine....

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rrenzwrld · 2 months

Text

secreto de amor XII

chapter 12! read chapter 11 here

you were excited about what happened with connie but you also felt guilty about it. you knew jean was overprotective over you with any guy but because his best friend would be involved, you didn’t know how different this would be. you didn’t know how to feel about the situation.

but one thing you were sure about was your feelings for connie. he brought some kind of spice in your life and everything with him felt natural, especially when you started to just embrace him as a person overall. maybe you were falling in love but you’ve been there before and the possibility of going back kinda frightened you.

“whatcha smiling at?” sasha asked while being all up on your phone as you texted connie.

“her man.” tia commented, which prompted you to send a death stare her way.

“man? you ain’t tell us you had a man? who’s the man?” you rolled your eyes before putting your phone down.

“i don’t have a man, sasha.”

“yet.” tia coughed.

“i’ll never have a man. especially after what happened with…” you couldn’t even really say his name, not like it deserved to be said anyway.

“who?” sasha looked at tia because she knew she’d have the answer.

“her ex.” she mumbled and sasha quickly understood.

“but don’t be like that! you’ll have a man, especially one that’s gonna treat you…not like how the other one treated you.”

“his name is gonna start with a c and end with an e…he’s gonna be funny and fine…he’s gonna—“

“t.”

“that’s very specific.”

“girl, we talking about connie!” you immediately shushed tia in case jean was somewhere nearby.

“ohhh! aww~i knew he was talking to somebody new, i didn’t think it was you though. cute!”

“we’re not a thing.”

“they kissed. tongue and everything. sucking each other’s faces off—“

sasha gasped. “oh my god…yall fucked?”

“no. just a kiss, calm down.”

“you saying that like it’s a bad thing. his dick little or something?”

“no, i’d just be surprised if y’all did. you’re so soft and quiet and he’s…he sells drugs.”

“okay, and? money money money~” tia sang.

“he’s cool and we kissed so i’m just tryna see if the kiss was a waste of time.” it obviously wasn’t because it occupied your mind for hours in a day but you just wanted to see if anything would come out of it or if you were just signing an invisible contract to become one of his throw-away hoes.

“evidently not, got you smiling at the phone and shit.” you threw a pillow towards tia.

“you got jokes, huh?”

“what’s going on in here?” jean came into your room.

“none of your business, why are you in here?”

“to let you know i’m going to the store and if you wanted to come?”

“so it’s just fuck us huh?” tia commented and jean narrowed her eyes at her.

“yep. you coming, y/n?” you nodded just to get out the house.

“you’re gonna leave us?” sasha stood up from the bed, pouting.

“no, i’ll be back. just take care of the house.”

you and jean went to the store to get more groceries because it was the first time since he’s been back.

you two were walking down snack aisle when you thought you saw connie with some girl and eventually you were sure it was him. they were laughing, giggling, and touching all up on each other and your heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. it showed on your face and jean picked up on your energy shift.

“hey, what’s wrong? you don’t like chocolate chip?” jean asked innocently as he held up a box of chocolate chip cookies.

“i’m okay. what else do we need to get?” you tried to shake the scene off but you couldn’t.

“umm…that’s it. you sure you okay?”

“yeah, can we leave now?”

“of course.” he nodded. the only time you rushed him was if something was really wrong or you didn’t wanna be somewhere so he understood. on the ride back, he did have questions but he knew not to bother you if you looked upset. so when you finally got home you went straight to your room but forgot sasha and tia were still there.

“what’s wrong? what happened at the store?” you shook your head but sasha and tia looked at each other, knowing something was wrong.

“you saw connie?” tia whispered. you were quiet so that gave away your answer. “don’t tell me he was with another bitch bruh…” you were quiet again.

“i’m sorry y/n…i can talk to him if you want. this might all be a big misunderstanding.” sasha rubbed your leg. you didn’t feel like crying or anything, you were just mad. his lil kiss started to get you into feelings you were kinda excited for but then he goes and have another bitch in his face? yeah you knew it was a waste of time.

“it is what it is,” you shrugged. “i just don’t think he’s for me.”

“don’t give up! maybe it was a cousin you saw him with or something.” tia side-eyed sasha.

“be forreal.”

“it didn’t look like a cousin. the way they were all up on each other.”

“were they kissing?” you shook your head. “at least that’s good.”

“yeah i just need to take a step back.”

“a few steps all the way back.” tia’s comment made you and sasha giggle before you all talked some more. after a few more minutes, tia and sasha ended up leaving and jean was knocking on your door.

“come in!”

“hey, you okay? you looked pretty upset earlier.” jean came in and sat on your bed.

“i’m fine. just a mood swing or something.” jean knew you were lying and was battling in his head whether or not he should ask you what he really wants to ask you.

“okay…i just have a question,” you didn’t look at him but was silent just to listen to him. “what’s up with you and connie?” your heart sank again but you couldn’t explain why if there’s truthfully nothing going on, at least not anymore.

“nothing. why?”

“i overheard yall talking about him. i just wanted to ask you just in case i misheard or whatever.”

“we kissed but we’re not dating or anything.” jean had to admit he was a bit bothered by what you told him but his priority was with you, not connie.

“okay then, just…i don’t want you getting hurt. i want your heart and mind protected and honestly, connie is not gonna be the one to do that for you. he’s my best friend and all and we’re cool but, you will always come first. i’ll always be on your side, understood?” you nodded in confirmation. luckily you hadn’t gotten that far with connie for anything to change. you hoped that outside of you, him and jean would still be friends because you didn’t wanna ruin anything for your brother.

#aot x reader #aot x black reader #black reader #connie springer #aot connie #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x black y/n

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aerodaltonimperial · 10 months

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bestie prompt: One bestie plays matchmaker for the other bestie, gritting their teeth the entire time. (I'd love to see this from either perspective, but go with whatever clicks for you first!)

((((and I am so sorry for all the feelings today i didn't mean to break us pls forgive me ))))

(SO FIRST OF ALL she did mean to break us SECOND OF ALL I was trying to find the family feud episode on youtube and youtube instead asked me if I wanted to watch Hook first saving Jack in December and SO I WATCHED IT and then I was crying like what the fuck I miss them so much ESSENTIALLY I HAVE BEEN ATTACKED TONIGHT so here is some bestie fic because i am too emotionally attached at this point to be pried loose)

Jack doesn't really get it at first. One minute, he was getting his ass kicked by Moriarty and Big Bill, and the next, Hook has shoved his hand out in front of Jack's face for a handshake. Jack doesn't know what it means. Jack doesn't know why Hook is here, when Hook is...never anywhere, really. But he takes Hook's hand, because that's just what you do when someone saves you from broken bones and severe internal bruising.

He doesn't get it when Hook shows up at his hotel room door a few hours later, either; he's holding a bucket of ice in one hand, still got that perpetual scowl on his face. Jack's already been checked by medical, already iced the worst of things. But this is the second gesture Hook has made in less than 24 hours, and Jack was raised to be polite.

"Do you want to come in and watch a movie?" he asks, and honestly, he doesn't know if it's an offer that won't be immediately laughed down the hallway.

Hook's expression goes softer. One corner of his mouth quirks up. He nods, and Jack lets him in.

Hook doesn't even end up using the ice. They let it melt until the wooden desk it's sitting on is wet with all the condensation while they sit up against the headboard and watch the second Die Hard.

Towards the end, Hook pulls his phone out, opens up his contact list, and creates a new one. It's labeled simply Jack. Then he holds the phone out sideways, waiting.

Jack takes it and types his number in. Finally, he gets it. Hook is absolutely, painfully, desperately in need of a friend.

And you know what? Jack feels the same god damn way.

He hands the phone back. Smiles. "See you next week?"

Hook smiles back.

The Firm targets them together now. They throw Jack in a dumpster just to piss Hook off. Hook digs Jack out with his face wrinkled in disgust, and Jack wants to punch Stokely right in his fat mouth. But Hook came after him. That's more than Jack would have believed two weeks ago.

Jack peels something sticky and nauseating off his arm, and shakes his head. "How do you feel about the old, original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movies?"

Hook looks confused, but he answers, "Favorably."

"Alright." Jack nods. "They're On Demand in the hotel streaming system. I'm gonna go back and take a really hot shower, and then what do you think about marathoning them with pizza?"

Hook smiles. "Cool."

They actually don't make it through them all—they actually both fall asleep halfway through Secret of the Ooze, heads tilted back at uncomfortable angles against the pillows. Jack wakes up when the credits start to roll unsure of what year he's in. When he looks over at Hook, the man is...vulnerable. Curled back against the headboard with his mouth slightly open.

Jack turns the TV off, and then the lights. He shifts his pillow down into a normal position and waits. It takes about ten minutes for Hook to do the same, but he doesn't leave. They sleep like the dead until Jack's phone alarm blares bright and early the next morning.

Turns out, they're a really good tag team. It's easy to fight with Hook, probably just because Jack feels so comfortable around him. Hook has slipped into his life with a strange familiarity that should be weird and somehow isn't, like Jack has known him forever, the sort of old friend that's always got his back.

They make their way through whatever the hotels have available on the Smart TVs in their rooms, and night by night, movie by movie, Hook opens up. Starts talking more. Instead of single syllables, Jack gets sentences of things he notices in the filming. How the angles were shot. The bits that they get wrong about various things: athletic training, New York City, photography.

When they aren't in the same place, they text. And most nights they are, they end up sleeping in the same bed, just because it's easier than returning back. Jack takes to packing an extra toothbrush every time, for Hook to use. It's not romantic, this thing between them; he thinks it probably could be, if they were in different places, different head spaces, but it doesn't really matter. Jack's not lonely anymore.

It's been quite a while since he could say that.

He starts figuring out Hook's little tells, all the signs that he's had a rough day. Jack's good enough at it to be able to always have the right sort of movie queued up. Hook is mercurial like that: he bottles everything up, and Jack thinks what he ends up seeing is all the implosions when it fails to be enough, the tendrils of emotional turmoil Hook tries so hard to swallow down. On the hard days, Hook will end up curled up against Jack's side as they sit on the bed, and Jack will loop his arm around Hook's shoulders. They don't talk about it, but Hook will smash his face into Jack's collarbone and exhale so deep his whole body shudders with the force.

They don't talk about it, until one day, abruptly, they do.

"I really miss him," Hook whispers, as the clock ticks over to 2 AM and they're laying side by side in the too-starched sheets of the king sized bed.

Jack freezes for a second, only because he's afraid he'll say the wrong thing and scare Hook into clamming up all over again. "Miss who?"

"Danhausen."

"Oh," Jack says, tone light: still a whisper. It feels safer. "Have you said that to him?"

"He doesn't talk to me anymore," Hook replies.

"Maybe he's just waiting for you to reach out first."

"Or," Hook mumbles, bitter and thin, "he's happier without me. With them. And he doesn't care anymore."

Jack winces in the darkness of the room. "I don't think that's true. You guys were...really close."

There's a long stretch of nothing, but Jack knows Hook hasn't fallen asleep. Finally, Hook sucks in a ragged-sounding breath. "Jack."

"Yeah?"

"I think I was in love with him."

"Yeah," Jack agrees, because that's probably correct. They lay in quiet for a very long time, though Hook's breathing never evens out, so Jack knows he isn't asleep. Eventually, Jack rolls over. Presses his hands against Hook's shoulder—light enough to be a suggestion he can ignore if he wants.

Hook, it seems, doesn't want to. He rolls to the same side and lets Jack curve behind him. Jack loops his arm over Hook's waist. And then he settles in, his cheek against Hook's shoulder blade, and waits while Hook shakes, shakes, shakes against the mattress.

A week later, he's on a website full of black and red. Bright colors, weird graphics. He clicks around, trying to figure out what would work. His phone dings with a text from Hook. It's completely unrelated, superbly casual; a reply to Jack's earlier message complaining about gas prices in California.

Jack stares at it, and thinks You're my best friend. I'm going to fix this for you.

It takes another few weeks for the dates to line up, but Jack finds himself in Wisconsin at a convention. He's got his hair thrown back under a cap so he won't be recognized, but ends up taking it off at the back door so the volunteer will let him in. She even gives him one of those staff lanyards.

It doesn't take him long to find the person he's looking for. Danhausen appears very surprised when Jack grabs his elbow and hauls him over to the wall. "What are—"

"I need to talk to you," Jack says. "What did he do?"

Danhausen blinks. "What?"

"What did he do that was so bad? What was it?"

"You...you're talking about Hook," Danhausen says, slowly. He's got the face paint on, so his tongue looks very pink when it darts out to wet his lip.

"Of course I'm talking about Hook. Why are you still mad at him?"

Danhausen frowns. "Danhausen doesn't know what you're talking about. Hook is the one who is mad at Danhausen."

"What..." Jack stares at him, boggled. "He's miserable. What are you talking about? He thinks you hate him."

"Hook told Danhausen that he didn't need him."

That one takes awhile for Jack to place. He searches back in his memories; that was a weird time. He wasn't in the best place, mentally. But he's pretty sure he remembers that interview. "He...no. He was only talking about that match."

"He..." Danhausen's expression has twisted. His eyes dart to the side. "But Danhausen thought Hook was pushing him away."

"Dude," Jack says. "He wasn't. It was just about that one thing. And you just disappeared afterwards."

From Danhausen's expression, Jack has just handed him very new information. And then Jack laughs, because he can't help it; it sucks, of course it sucks, and Hook's been in this twisted agony circle for months, but of all things? This?

"Are you telling me," he starts, "that this entire thing was a misunderstanding?" He waits, watching; Danhausen looks upset. "Do you miss him, too?"

When Danhausen nods, Jack gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Right, so. I'm being very serious right now. You need to call him. Like, immediately. Because he really, really misses you."

"And Hook is not angry at Danhausen? He might be, when Danhausen calls. It's been a very long time, and...well."

"I can confidently tell you that he will not be mad at you," Jack tells him. "Call him. Please."

He turns to leave, but Danhausen's voice stops him. "Danhausen misjudged Ju—Jack."

Jack stops, swivels back. Danhausen's hands are clasped in front of him, fingers tangled. He's managing a lopsided black smile. "Sorry for that. But Danhausen will find a way to thank you."

"Just call him," Jack says. "That's all I need."

Danhausen has his phone out, tapping something, when Jack glances back near the exit. It looks more like a chat thread than a phone call, but he's pretty sure he won't have to wait long.

He's right: Hook texts him that night.

You went to find him? In Wisconsin? You flew to Wisconsin?

Jack grimaces, replies: Don't be mad. I'm sorry I did it behind your back. Did he call?

Yeah, comes the reply. And then, You know I'm gonna fucking love you forever for this, right?

Jack smiles at his phone. Sap.

Seriously, though, Hook's message says. Thank you.

I'm glad I could help.

#tag so you don't lose this shit #IT'S MISSING MY BESTIES HOUR UP IN THIS HOOOOUUUUSSSEEEEEE #i will never let go of them #when i die put them on my tombstone

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nothingunrealistic · 1 year

Note

and what of 15 for kleinsen...

15. things you said with too many miles between us

“Nothing but hiking and yoga and kayaking and having to wear a dress shirt to eat inside.” The background of Jared’s end of the video call shifts from a rapidly receding doorway to a bedspread and pillows. “And I don’t even get my own room. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Hiking’s not so bad.”

“That’s just, like, your opinion, man. If I’m gonna be stuck in the Catskills with my parents for a week, the least they could do is get Patrick Swayze to show up.”

“Why Patrick Swayze?” Evan sits down at his desk and rifles through his memory. “I thought he died.”

“Because otherwise it’s not a Dirty Dancing homage. And yes.”

“It’s a what homage?”

“The movie. Dirty Dancing. ‘Nobody puts Baby in a corner’? ‘I’ve had the time of my life’?” Evan’s confusion must show on his face as clearly as frustration shows on Jared’s. “Do you watch anything other than nature documentaries?”

“I watch documentaries about other things.”

“Typical,” Jared mutters, as if he’s genuinely disappointed in Evan and not at all excited to add a new title to his mental list of Movies To Make Evan Watch When We Hang Out. (Well, he claims it’s a mental list. Evan suspects he has a spreadsheet.) “Are your finals done yet?”

“No. I still have two left.” And as he discovered last semester, finals for three college classes somehow require as much studying as eight high school finals. Especially when he’s studying by himself while Jared, whose semester ended a month ago, is on the other side of the state complaining about a vacation that’s rewarding him for making the dean’s list. That’s what Mom said Jared’s mom said it was for, anyway. Jared insists it’s because going away to college made his parents realize they missed having someone to order around.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Evan shuffles through the papers on his desk one-handed. “Um. My mom looked up the place where you’re staying, and she said they had, you can throw tomahawks, as an activity.” He had the printouts about it just yesterday, where did they go? “That sounds cool.”

“Yeah, but they only have it twice a week, and we missed the Monday session, so Friday’s my last shot. And that’s if my mom doesn’t convince herself that I’m gonna cut my own head off throwing an axe.”

“Tomahawk.”

“Whichever. Besides, they have, like, safety precautions and training. But if we were here in the winter, she’d say we have to check out the ski trails. That shit isn’t supervised, and statistically…”

Connor hated skiing.

It pops into Evan’s head and stays lodged in there as Jared goes on about all the ways you can be horribly maimed while skiing. It reminds him that a year ago he was counting the days until graduation and wondering which of his classmates he’d ever see again, and a year and a half ago he was literally sick with dread waiting for either Jared or the Murphys to turn his world upside down by going public, and two years ago —

“…are you even listening to me right now?”

“No,” Evan says, then cringes. “I kind of zoned out. Sorry.”

“I kind of figured.”

“I was just thinking that, um.” That if a thousand things hadn’t happened just right, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. “I’m glad we’re friends again. Or still, or, however you think of it.”

“Uh, okay. Same here, I guess.” Jared rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. For a while. They look pretty red.

“Jared, are you —”

“My contacts are probably expired,” Jared says quickly. “And the pollen here is insane. How am I supposed to see straight with a thousand trees jizzing in my eyes?”

“Gross.”

“But accurate.”

“I mean, not exactly —”

“If I wanted a botany lesson, I’d go on the nature tour again. And I wouldn’t learn anything this time.”

(send me a ship and a prompt and i’ll write a mini fic)

#inbox #unproduciblesmackdown #dear evan hansen #jared kleinman #evan hansen #kleinsen #sometimes i write #sliding in just under the wire. merry kleinsen to all and to all a good night

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afterdarkprincess · 9 months

Text

Aftershocks Part 7

Happy Raw Night everyone!!

We’re getting teasy and flirty ;)

Samijey endgame

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Tags for @feelschicken @southerngirl41 and @whumpypunk

Cold water ran down Sami’s body, a welcome relief to his flushed skin. He was doing his best to not think about the singular bed in the other room and the beautiful Samoan waiting there.

The beautiful Samoan that had been betrayed and beat down by his entire family today.

What was wrong with him?

He pushed the temperature dial deeper to cold and let the shock of cold water break his thought patterns. He washes his hair and beard, rubbing away the sweat and anxiety of the day, relishing in the sensations of his minty soap against the cool water.

It’s a herculean effort to leave the shower, but eventually he shuts the water off and steps out to dry off.

He’d grabbed some sleep clothes before his shower, a life on the road and free shirts keeps him stocked in comfy attire. He dons some loose basketball shorts and one of his old “Honorary Uce” shirts. Jey will get a kick out of that.

Sami throws his toiletries back into his travel bag and takes a deep breath.

He’s going to go out there and get into his side of the bed like everything is totally normal. Very simple. He can’t mess this up.

Or so he thinks.

Sami exits the bathroom and rounds the corner to find Jey kneeling on the bed, facing away from him toward the headboard, his thick thighs barely covered by a tight pair of boxer briefs, seemingly adjusting the pillows.

Jey, seemingly satisfied with his pillow arrangement or just hearing Sami approach, twists around to reveal that the too short crop top he’s wearing is none other than the “Feeling Ucey” shirt.

How appropriate.

Jey is making a comment about their matching shirts, but Sami is lost in the sight of a good 4 or 5 inches of the other man’s back and stomach, the tattoos he’d gotten recently, and the healthy glow of his skin.

Realistically this isn’t an out of the ordinary outfit for Jey to be sleeping in. When he shared hotel rooms with the rest of the bloodline, the brothers were naturally comfortable with one another, often wearing just boxers or boxers and shirts.

But Jey looked like he’d been served up for Sami on a silver platter and it had thrown Sami’s plan to just lay down right out the window.

His mouth is suddenly dry, but he tries for a casual tone. “You look good, I mean- uh the new tattoos? On your back I mean, they look good. Nice.”

Nailed it.

Jey grins and it’s a thing of beauty. Cheesy and with a familiar twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Thanks man, wanna see?” He immediately starts yanking off the crop top, much to Sami’s delight and horror.

Sami feels his face flush again, does his best to avert his eyes.

“Oh- uh thanks but, I think I just wanna wind down, watch some TV, yeah?” Sami is trying desperately to look anywhere but at the delicious tan skin now on display. His reply was quick but Jey was faster.

Jey now sits on his side of the bed, bare from the waist up. His face seems to fall at Sami’s reply, but he settles back into his pillows all the same. “Yeah, Uce, thats fine. No biggie.”

Sami sits himself up against the headboard, adjusting some pillows to prop his back up.

He grabs the remote off the nightstand, turning the TV on to some late night game show and tries to relax.

Silence hangs heavy between them.

Sami doesn’t know what to say that isn’t going to come out an incoherent mess. He had been tired, he should be tired for the late hour that it is, but between the cold shower and the electric air, sleep is the last thing on his mind.

He watches Jey shift out of the corner of his eye, still shirtless and wiggling his hips to sink further into the bed.

It should be illegal how good he looks.

Jey almost puts him in mind of the dog he had as child; rolling around to get comfortable and not satisfied until its just so.

At one point, the Samoan twists his shoulders, attempting to turn on his side, when a groan escapes his lips.

It sounded pretty painful, finally pulling Sami’s eyes over to Jey to look at him fully again.

He’s laying on his side now, facing Sami. He’s resting on top of the sheets, head propped up on one hand, face wincing in tension.

“You okay over there?” Sami asks, concern overriding his dirty mind.

Jey nods his head, “Yeah, uh jus’ tight, you know? Sore.”

“Makes sense,” Sami nods, the match had been brutal. He was honestly surprised Jey didn’t have more complaints than some tight muscles.

Silence falls between them again and Sami’s gaze turns back to the TV.

“You know,” Jey says, his tone light. “A massage sounds pretty good right now..”

Just an observation. A statement of fact. But Sami is reeling.

“A massage?”

Jey sighs, grinning. “Yeet, it’d help.”

Sami could feel his face burning. “You… you want me to give you a massage?”

Surely this was a joke.

“Uh, yeah, Sami!” Jey is acting like this is normal, and it very much is not.

“Are you fucking with me?” Sami had to ask, his voice strained and sincere. He hoped he didn’t come off as offended but this felt like a dream.

Jey locked eyes with him, expression serious. “M’not fuckin’ with you. You don’ have to if you don’ wanna.”

“No!” He definitely says it too fast, arm shooting out to touch Jey’s shoulder before he can roll over and away from him. “I mean, no, I don’t mind. I-if you’re sure?”

Jey grins again, “Yeah man, lemme just get on my front here.” He flops onto his stomach with relative ease and stretches out.

Sami’s sure his jaw is on the floor.

Jey looks like a feast set out before him, and despite passing up on checking out the new tattoos earlier, they’re all he can look at now.

Sami’s a little bit at a loss for how to approach this, maybe go around and stand on the other side of the bed? Or kneel on the bed on the side he’s already on?

Maybe straddle and sit on Jey’s legs?

His face flushes even further. He’ll start with kneeling.

-—

WE’RE GETTING SPICY

#jeysami #samijey #jey x sami #jey uso #sami zayn #aftershocks

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takemealivelh · 2 years

Text

you want a napkin with that? || l.h. (smut) part one

birthday boy deserves a birthday fuck.

tw: cheating and the filthiest smut you will ever read, i hope

part two

2.1k FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED

new york. after a show he goes to a crew party and meets a woman that can't take her eyes off him. she seems incredibly desperate to fuck. and he likes that.

they leave the party early, not being able to handle the tension between them.

luke swipes the card and enters the hotel room, she follows inside and closes the door behind her. he takes off his that's cool baby jacket and reaches out a hand to grab hers. his smile is devastating, taken over by lust. "c'mere" he whispers and kisses her like the world's about to end. he'd been thinking about those pretty lips all night. especially the burgundy color on them.

she wraps her hands around his waist, eager to take the black shirt off. luke kisses her neck. slowly licking the skin. she breathes loudly and drags him towards the king sized bed. he takes off his shirt as he sits on it with her. "let me see those tits," his tone is hushed. as if he was about to burst. she takes the white crop top off, she unhooks her bra and lets it fall to one side. "good lord," he smiles and proceeds to suck on her nipples. she throws her head back, granting him more access to her chest. her hands tugging at the ends of his hair. he flicks one nipple and digs his fingers on her thighs. smiling up at her, he can't believe his mouth is about to leave titties for lips. but hers are just so inviting. they fall on the bed and she quickly takes off her high-waisted black short shorts off. her legs had been driving him crazy all night. miles and miles of skin. he caresses her ass, playing with the green panties she's wearing. they have lace on the back. she undoes his belt, helping him wiggle out of his black jeans. "you're sexy, you know that right?"

his answer comes in a smirk. as if he knew but didn't want to admit it. his length is semi-hard. she guides her hand to it and strokes it over his briefs. "fuck, girl."

she likes that he calls her that. not his girl. she doesn't belong to anyone. let alone this musician man who's about to fuck her. she can feel him growing in size quickly. and when she thinks he can't get any bigger, he does. his teeth sink into her lower lip and she gasps softly.

"you're making me do this." he smiles before leaving her lips and looking directly into her beautiful eyes. his hands travel to her front and he can feel the wetness pooling on her. "damn, you're soaking too. it must be my birthday." he doesn't tell her that it actually is. he needs a good birthday fuck and his girlfriend is back in la. right now he doesn't care. the exquisite creature in front of him will do.

she grins. loves the attention. the way his fingers push the fabric of her panties aside, he presses his thumb against her clit. her breath halts.

"i haven't even pushed my fingers inside of you, angel. do you need my fingers?"

"yes, please." she whines, unable to stay sit. her back crashes on top of the white fluffy comforter. luke takes this opportunity to drag her panties down her legs. he kisses the skin and tattoos as his mouth approaches her entrance. he fans hot breath over her. her arms are up, over her head, resting comfortably on a pillow. his tongue latches onto her folds and she gasps again, this time it sounds whiny. "fuck," she curses. swears she can feel him smirking just by the way his cheekbones press against her hips.

he licks at her wetness, loving every second of seeing her squirm. but he’s the birthday boy. he’s today’s king. he pulls back and wipes the droplets from his chin. “wanna suck my cock?”

her body had reacted poorly to him leaving her folds. she’s clenching her toes but stares at the erection that luke is pulling out of his briefs. her mouth waters. eagerly, she nods her head and sits up. she proceeds to straddle him, making him the one whose back is pressed against the mattress now. “why? do you want me to?” she teases and kisses his neck, teeth barely scraping the skin there. his hands are firmly clawed into her ass.

“don’t tease me.”

she looks for his eyes, hands on either side of his head. “i would never” her smile is enough to have him leaking with precum.

“no?” luke reaches for her neck to close the gap between them. she swats his hand away and places hers on his chest as she leaves open-mouthed kisses down his torso. when she hits the pubic bone, she looks up at him.

“does it look like i’m teasing?” before he can reply, she practically swallows him. her lips are great, but the insides of her cheeks? fire. he knows her walls are even better. he hits the back of her throat and his eyes roll backward. he’s not gonna be able to answer now, too preoccupied of the pleasure he’s receiving. her nails dig into the muscles of his thighs. and after bobbing her head up and down for a solid ten seconds, a thin strand of saliva comes up with her, glued to her lower lip.

“whoa,” luke opens his eyes and laughs as he sees her, naked, in front of his dick. “you’re good,” he points at her and grabs her wrist, collapsing her on top of him, kissing her. he wants to taste what they’ve been messing with. he likes it on her mouth, that’s for sure. “you gonna do that again, angel?” he smiles and reaches for her neck once again. she lets him guide her towards his length.

a small reply comes before she kisses the top of his shaft. “no problem, s-” she interrupts herself. almost calling him sir wasn’t on the plans. but, unfortunately, his ear is too good. and he could hear the clear s she just cut short.

“were you about to call me sir?” his smirk is big as he turns her hair into a ponytail with his hands. she doesn’t answer, but instead kisses the base of his erection. “were you?” it amuses him. he doesn’t get that nickname from his girlfriend, that’s for sure. she shyly nods her head, placing soft kisses on him.

“yes, sir.”

he decides he likes the name. it adds a whole another dimension to this encounter. “good girl,” luke can’t help but reply. she starts sucking him again. this time harshly. teeth barely there.

she plays with his balls. “yes, sir,” she mumbles around his dick. the vibrations of her lips make his stomach contract, forcing him to sit up and rest his weight on his elbows. he lets her hair fall down, it tickles his skin. “god,” he breathes in quickly. “let me cum in your mouth,” he pleads. her hands grab at his wrists. she pulls him up slowly as she carefully moves with his cock inside her mouth. luke can see the burgundy stains she has left on the base of his shaft. it drives him insane. her tongue is flat between the flesh and her jaw. she looks up at him with puppy eyes. as if she’s begging for him to release right now, her mouth attached to his body. “alright, alright,” he starts to grind on her lips. “you want me to facefuck you, girl, don’t you?” both hands fly to the back of her head and he pushes it into him. “yeah?” his speed increases. his voice is raspy and low enough for no one in the hotel to hear, but loud enough to make her throb between her legs. “yeah?” he gets whiny, he’s about to cum. he snaps his hips, she chokes. that small contraction of her throat is enough to have him spilling. it’s so much that he pulls out just enough for his cum to slip out through her lips. her whole face is relaxed, she even carries a satisfied smile. she knew she could make him come with just her mouth. she knew that.

“shit,” he grins as he lets go of her head and falls down to sit on his knees, hands next to each side of him. “you want a napkin with that?” she can’t help but let out a soft laugh, letting the rest of his cum fall on her chest. his eyes widen in pleasure. “stay right here. i’ll be right back.”

he hops off the bed and disappears into the bathroom. he’s sure he’s packed a condom or two in his toiletries. toothpaste, toothbrush, razor, there it is. a big condom perfectly wrapped in a blue foil. he checks himself out in the mirror. his chest has straight-lined burgundy kisses. he smirks to himself and runs a hand through his curls. the nape of his neck is hot and sweaty.

she lies down with her hands on her sides, trying not to move so she doesn’t stain anything. she rolls her head to the side, the view of the hotel is impeccable. the fucking empire state? she wishes her place had a view like that. the moon is full. it has a pinkish tint. she wonders which zodiac cycle she’s in.

luke slips on the condom and walks back to the bedroom. he swiftly hops onto the bed, legs on each side of her body. “you doing okay?” he asks softly as he wipes the cum off her chest with a small towel he’ll throw in the trash later.

“i’m good,” she smiles, looking radiant. she does feel good indeed.

“good,” he replies and tosses the towel to the side. “now…” he lifts one knee and parts her thighs with his hand, “spread for me.”

“yes, sir.” her legs open with no hesitation.

his fingers trace a line through her slippery folds and that makes her shudder. “you’re not ready for me?” he asks with a teasing smile.

desperately, she brings her hands to his neck and pulls him into a bruising kiss. “fuck me, sir.”

his hand coats and lubricates his throbbing length with the vaginal fluid he just got out of her. “wreck you, you said?” he smiles against her lips, lines himself, and lets his plastic-covered erection rest against the slit.

“yes… sir” she manages to mumble. her whole body has gone in an electric shock. he pushes inside of her.

“fuck, you’re tight.”

“you like that?”

“i live for it,” he grins and bottoms out. they both gasp at the same time. he looks between them, hips to hips connection. it feels delightful.

she brings him closer and kisses his neck, the sensitive skin has him shaking in the position. so, he starts moving. excruciatingly slow. she licks a spot he likes, his breath comes out in a huff. his pace picks up, and he sits up, hooking her knees on his elbows. he goes in and out of her brutally.

“fuck, fuck,” she curses and arches her back. luke takes this opportunity to suck at her sternum. he bites the skin. it for sure will leave a mark. the idea arouses him. having this girl walk back to her ordinary life tomorrow, fucked out.

“you like that, mm?” he grins widely and she nods her head. “how about this?” he licks his index finger and presses it to her swollen clit. her eyes roll to the back of her head.

“so… so good, sir,” she praises with a moan.

he feels like a sex god. his hair gets in the way but he doesn’t do anything about it, and she can tell he’s breathing hard behind those curls. he traces quick circles around her bundle of nerves. then he pinches it. his hips snap hard against hers. “what else do you need? you need my hand around your throat?”

small tears fog her vision. “... yes… sir.”

he’s obedient. his hand reaches for her neck and he applies pressure on the sides with his fingers, choking her. she can’t breathe at all. he’s an expert. her hands wrap around his forearm, knuckles might be turning white for all that she knows.

she feels as if she can’t breathe. she feels as if she’s about to pass out. she whines and writhes and arches her back even more so her whole chest is flushed against his. her soul is about to leave her body. she can’t even process it when she’s squirting around him.

he feels the juices pouring out of her, coating him, running down his thighs. it feels so nice, so warm, so fucking hot. luke groans out. the second orgasm hitting him like a motherfucker. he rides it out. letting her shaking legs fall onto the bed, he presses his hands on the mattress at each side of her head, pushing in and out until they both come back down from the high.

“can i have your number?”

“no.”

#luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings #luke hemmings fic

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adultonlystories · 9 months

Text

ALL HALLOWS EVE

Work in progress! part 1

the story has force, a man taking a woman. 18 plus no minors!

I’m at home alone halloween wearing a sexy school girl costume, not many kids have come to the door so i turn all the lights off. As I am out side unplugging some of the lights, he walks up behind me. He grabs me from behind covering my mouth with his hand, now with my dark yard he drags me into my place. Once in he close the door behind him, he then pins me agents the wall. As he have me pinned he puts a bit gag in my mouth as he move his hand. he then roughly grabs my arms and cuffs them behind my back, with his mask still on he steps back to look at your prize.he then grab a leather dog collar out of his pocket and a chain leash out of the other pocket, as he put the collar around my neck he tell me. “If you listen and do what i tell you to, i will let you go tonight.” He then push me hard agents the wall as his hands feel up my body, through his pants i can feel his cock getting hard agents my ass. Without warning he picks me up and carries me to the bedroom. Once there he places me on my bed as he looks at the time, with a smile he rest his hand on my mini skirt right over my pussy. “We have some tome to kill my sweet girl,” he says as he slowly move the skirt up. Under my skirt is a black thong, as his other hand undoing your pants. His cock springs out hard and ready, he then take his cock and rubs the head up and down my pussy lips. He then roughly ram his cock deep into me, he rapes me hard and violently; he then cums deep inside of me. As he pulls out he roll me onto my tummy, he then insert a butt in. He then ties me to my bed still on my tummy, he then places aa pillow under my hip area forcing my ass to stick up in the air. With my head now down on the bed he takes his mask off, he then start going through my stuff. As he go through my panties he throws some on the bed next to me, as he go through my skirts and short dresses. As he continue going through my things he opens my nightstand, as he pull out my toys he spanks my ass. I let out a small moan, “You are a naughty little slut ant you? Seems like your costume truly shows your true side.” He says as you insert a vibrator into my pussy, he then put my thong back in place so it holds the vibrator in. He then leave me there, when he comes back he have a backpack. He then place all the stuff he put on the bed next time in it, he looks at the time again. “Good news slut, only one more hour.” He says as he stroke his cock making it hard again, as he do he climbs onto the bed behind me. I can feel him moving the thong again, he then slides the vibrator out. He once again rams his cock fast and hard into my pussy. Under the gag he can hear me trying to beg him to stop, he ignore it and continue to rape my pussy again. as he rapes me this time he smacks my ass every so often to hear the mean, he mockingly say, “you enjoy your pussy being raped by a stranger. Don’t lie to your self your body tells all, if you did not like it your pussy would be dry not wet. And you would not moan for me.” With that he smack my ass again but this time harder, I gave a soft moan again. He then pump another load of cum deep into me. As the cum fills my inside he leans agents my butt and squeeze my tits. “Mmmm your pussy is so tight and warm, I don’t want this to ever end.” He checks the time again but this time he looks out the window, I can feel him getting off of the bed, I then hear the front door open and close. I start struggling pulling on the knots that kept me on the bed, not listening for the door. He smacks my ass as he returns. And i stop moving, without a word he put your mask back on. untie me grab the backpack, and drag me by the leash to the front door. He opens the door and pushes me out into the cool crisp outside, he then steps out and closes the door behind him. You then drag me down the front steps to the drive way ware a pickup with a camper in the bed sits, he opens the camper door and pushes me in first. He follows, He then picks me up again and toss em onto the bed. He then took the ankle cuffs he took from my place, and attached them to my ankles.

#force #forcedsex #all hallows eve #my writing #my story #18+ only

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europa-ganymede · 10 months

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Light at the end of a very long tunnel

As you may know, shit has been going literally sideways for me for the past couple weeks now (months, actually). I had been so depressed and upset about it all.

I’ve had really very bad luck with trying to find anyone to even come out to look at my house before another rain storm (my gutter issue was unresolved). We had a very dry spring, unusually dry. So, I didn’t have much rain to even worry aobut until the end of June/beginning of July. And Maryland does this cute thing now where when it “rains” it means a drenching downpour of 4″ of rain in an hour. On Sunday, in rained for 20 minutes and we got 2″ of rain. We were running through towels to try to soak up the water that was coming in from the window and flowing under the radiator. I felt bad for me, for my son, for my house.. I cried A LOT over the weekend. Like on and off just sobbing. I talked to so many companies, so many of them didn’t give a shit if I lived or died, if my house flooded, it was more or less like “sorry lady not my problem”. They wanted to upcharge me $100 to even send someone this week... I’ve been pretty broke after all this shit happening so I don’t have the money to just throw at upcharge fees.

I got a missed call Tuesday morning from the guys who I’d used in the past to clean my gutter, his name is Ray. I was so relieved to hear from him. Ray literally made my entire year because of how kind and generous he’s been with me at a VERY excessively stressful time in my life. There are things going on with me that I can’t even discuss or type to a public audience so just know it’s way deeper than anything surface level... but I just got a much needed gutter replacement from a man who did this work for so, so much less than I could ever find anywhere else. When I say he gave me the deal of a lifetime, he did. He came out, made time, went out of his way to get it done before any other rain storms... he clearly cared. He told me he was inundated with calls and referrals but he wanted to get to me as soon as possible so my “house didn’t crumble”. I told him how we had spent money renting a truck and ladder, spent money on another company to come out and $300 later I was still no closer to a solution. He said “let’s replace it, I’m more than happy to do it”. He quoted me an INSANELY low amount. He refused extra money. I feel very lucky to have been able to know him when I needed him. He did an excellent job and now I have a new 6″ aluminum gutter, upgraded downspout, leaf guard and he installed a fascia board so the gutter is affixed to my house securely and not hanging off the roofing material like before... he said “it’s secure, going nowhere I promise”. This little Turkish man is an ANGEL. I thanked him so many times, I was preparing myself to have to take a loan from my sister for a grand at least and pay her back incrementally. He took pictures and videos to show me exactly what was happening - sent them to me and everything. He’s such a kind soul I hope each side of his pillow is cool, he always merges easily on the highway and he has lots of business for years to come. Honestly.

Ray restored a bit of my faith in humanity. I left him reviews on all major sites to sing his praises.

I’m grappling a little bit on what to do. I want to properly pay him when I get more money but I don’t think he’ll accept it. Do I just sit with the guilt? Let someone do something extremely kind for me and accept it? I don’t know.

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fullofsunsetwhispers · 2 years

Note

It's cute how Chase is constantly gushing to Wuya about Omi even when Omi isn't there. Practically talks her ear off about his tiny apprentice. I love it.

Glad you like it! I think it would be a nice running gag if the show ever got a continuation haha

Actually, I'm currently working on a drawing that would present the idea Chase is gushing about Omi to Wuya even at night, not letting her sleep xDDD

I can't say it would be Wuya/Chase roommate au because tbh it's canon xD I was just curious how they put up with each other under the same roof lol

So, I thought that through and came to the conclusion they manage to get on with each other as long as:

Chase lets Wuya watch her favorite shows without interruption. He isn't allowed to tell her any spoilers. If he did that, Wuya most probably would start throwing pillows at him. He's gotta pay for this, y'know?

Wuya can spend Chase's money on new clothes/gadgets from time to time. However, this is only possible once she did her share of chores. (she hates that but she would do anything for the money and Chase's permission to go out without the concern he would complain about it later)

and last but not least! They have a deal they can talk with each other on ANY TOPIC and the other side is not allowed to say anything that would trigger an argument.

That is, if Wuya wants to talk about the show Chase hates, he would listen to her, make a few comments and that's it. If Wuya wants to show Chase what has she bought (with his money lol) he has to keep his mouth shut and patiently go through a long story about sales, shops, and annoying customers.

But as we know both sides of the deal must keep their promises. In exchange for all these material goods (and the possibility to live in a cool evil lair that is simply a paradise) Wuya has to put up with Chase's monologues about cats (any cats tbh. Their discussion is either about Chase's wild cats, which were born as wild cats and their silly antics or several cat species that Chase has remembered in his long life). Each cat description would take 5 pages long so Wuya feels as if she was attending a lecture lol But some of the stories are indeed interesting so she's not complaining. Well, she CAN'T.

However, Wuya's patience is running out every time she hears the first mention of Omi. This man has no boundaries when there are Omi's adoration hours. He won't let Wuya leave the room until he's done talking about Omi.

'But Chase I would like to take a shower first' -Wuya would beg

But the Prince of darkness knows no mercy. - ' No. You have to sit that through. I'll convince you he's a perfect candidate for an apprentice and I'll present my whole curriculum especially designed for Omi's needs.' - Chase responds

Wuya: I know you like him but please it'll take only 15 minutes. Once I'm done, I'm all ears.

Chase, thinking: ... No, later I'm feeding the kitties. We should have that conversation right now.

Wuya, defeated: (sigh) If you must...

The problem is, Chase has bad timing almost always. He can gush about Omi during breakfast or dinner. He could randomly storm into Wuya's room every time she's busy or 'not prepared for guests', that is when she's in the middle of her beauty treatments.... But Chase is the most irritating when he pays her a visit at 4 am. He disregards the fact he has just woken her up. He has approached a tired witch to make her listen. It's his property anyway so he can enter her room whenever he wants. And he makes sure to take an advantage of that! Chase is not a talkative person, but oh boy. It's so hard to make him change the subject or convince him the world doesn't revolve around him and his desire for illegal adoption lol

All in all, Wuya has to pay a certain price for the possibility of living a high life thanks to Chase. Listening to Chase gushing about Omi is a particular sacrifice she has to make!

#ask #chase young #omi #omi and chase #wuya #just wuya and chase as roommates. that's the post.#oh my good they were roommates #the one loved money and the other a certain monk kid #that's a nice way to start a sitcom tbh

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bucksfucks · 3 years

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𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙮 ; 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

summary┃you’ve always called steve the golden boy, but he snaps one night and decides to show you he’s anything but.

pairing┃roommate!steve x f!reader

word count┃2,382 words

warnings┃hangover, drinking, tipsy sex, pining, teasing, makeout session, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, steve doesn’t think he’ll fit but he makes it, use of toys (vibrator), mocking, edging, hair pulling kink, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, steve finishes on readers back, steve is lowkey a fuckboy — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃presidential alert 🚨 the girls, gays, and the they’s are horny

The shower was already running when you had walked out of your room and into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea.

It was Saturday morning and despite your best efforts, your body never let you sleep in last nine in the morning.

You may as well start your day at 8:48 am.

Steve had gone out last night, but you remember the door shutting at three in the morning and a faint shhh falling from his lips as he spoke to whatever inanimate object was making noise.

In your sleepy daze, you didn’t really mind. Instead, turning your pillow onto the cool side and drifting back to sleep.

The kettle was boiling and the bread was getting warmed in the toaster when the shower finally stopped running.

It was a little unusual for Steve to shower for so long, even after his morning runs or workouts, he’d never need more than 10 minutes.

When the door opened, and a groaning Steve emerged, you knew exactly what the problem was.

“Mornin’, Golden Boy,” he didn’t even have the energy to grimace at the sound of his nickname.

His bare feel pattered against the wooden floor until he dropped his large body in one of the bar stools.

“Someone had a fun night.” You mumbled with a small smirk as you slid him a cup of coffee which is took between his fingers.

“I don’t know how Sam and Bucky roped me into shots,” he said into the cup of coffee as he took a cautious sip.

You just rolled your eyes playfully and plated the toast that had popped out a few seconds earlier, slabbing a large helping of butter before adding honey and sliding the plate over to him.

“Eat.”

He groaned again, but put the coffee down in place for the sweet honey toast.

“I can’t drink like I used to, I think I’m dying,” he was being dramatic, a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took a bite and hummed.

“You’re 27, Rogers. I think someone’s being a little dramatic,” you teased with a smile.

You are your breakfasts in silence for the most part, the painkiller Steve had taken not yet kicking in until both of your plates were cleared.

“Did you get lucky last night?” You asked with raised eyebrows as you both placed your plates in the sink.

Steve just laughed, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

You had to admit that your heart dropped, the same twinge of jealously starting to bloom in your chest as you imagined him with someone else.

“Proud of you, Golden Boy.” You fake cheered, biting your tongue and swallowing your pride.

Above everything, Steve was your friend and he deserved to get laid.

He laughed, “you should’ve come, Bucky couldn’t stop asking about you.”

You rolled your eyes again, slightly in annoyance.

“He knows I’ll never sleep with him,” you sang song, helping Steve dry the dishes as the sink stopped running.

“You never told me why, you know that?” You scoffed, “and for good reason.”

The reason was simple; you didn’t want Bucky, but instead his best friend and your roommate, Steve.

“I’ll get it out of ya one day, sweetheart.” Steve chuckled and you felt your heart sink a little further, “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The rest of the day was uneventful, nothing to do on a rainy New York day other than read as Steve fiddled with his sketchbook while an old sitcom played on the television.

Steve’s hangover either disappeared or he was great at hiding it, whatever it was, he was humming along to the show tune.

“Pizza and beers for dinner?” Steve asked as he was putting the final touches on his sketch making you laugh.

“What happened to I can’t drink like I used to?” You said, echoing his words from the morning as he shrugged.

“It’s a lazy day essential, now what toppings, and don’t say pineapple.” You acted shocked, mouth twitching into a smile.

“You don’t know anything about good pizza,” you huffed as he tore his eye away from his sketchbook to look at you.

“Pineapple on pizza is a crime, sweetheart. Now if that’s who you are I can’t judge, but I’m jus’ sayin’,” he said raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Whatever Golden Boy, just say you’re a vanilla type of guy,” you winked, standing up to put your book on the shelf as the sun began setting to cast yellow and orange hues over the apartment.

Steve snickered, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

The low timbre of his voice, your own words echoed from this morning sends a shudder down your spine as he grabs his phone.

“The usual?” You manage to nod your head, smiling as you try to distract yourself from the sudden and very evident ache between your thighs.

30 minutes later and the pizza was here, still hot and greasy as Steve set it on the wooden coffee table as you grabbed two beers, scratch that, four beers.

“Cheers, Golden Boy,” you offered with a soft smile as you both clinked your bottle necks against each other before pizza was being devoured.

You didn’t know what it was, but cheap greasy pizza and a cold beer always soothed the soul. No matter how heartbroken you had ever been, or upset at the universe, beer and pizza were always there for you.

As the hours went by, the bottles emptied and the pizza slices disappeared before you and Steve were sat on the couch laughing and giggling at the time Steve locked himself out in nothing but his underwear.

“And where were you to rescue me!” He bellowed, throwing his head back at the memory.

“I was in the shower, you know I blare music. I’m sorry Stevie, I promise the next time you’re locked out and naked I’ll rescue you.”

He shook his head, “well I wasn’t naked.”

You felt a little dizzy, body lighter as you finished off the second beer. You weren’t drunk, but loose enough to rest your head against Steve’s shoulder.

His phone buzzed then, grabbing it off the table as Bucky’s name lit up across the screen.

Steve ignored it.

“He’s jus’ gonna ask me to go out again,” he said before you could ask, seemingly reading your mind.

“Plus, I’m perfectly content right here,” he smiled, finishing off his second beer as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a sap,” you teased, “that a bad thing?” He asked and you felt the air around you grow more tense.

“‘Course not, you’re just Stevie,” you tried to explain as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Stevie?” He asked as you sat up and crossed your legs under your body.

“Yeah, you know,” you tried to find the words, “Golden Boy.”

He hums in response, “golden as in pure?”

You nod your head, “pure, sweet, innocent.”

You weren’t sure if you had struck a nerve, but Steve smirked as he leaned into you.

“‘M not so innocent, sweetheart. Not everything is as it seems.” His voice was much lower, raspier as you could smell the beer on his breath.

“Is that so?” Your voice was just a little above a whisper, heart racing in your chest.

“I could even show you, sweetheart, but you gotta answer one question first. Sound fair?” He asked.

You nodded your head slowly, eagerly awaiting his question.

His hands fell to your knees, sliding up until he pulled you into his lap.

You looked up at him, craning your head only slightly as he craned his at you. He was warm, and broad.

“Why,” his voice was low, “won’t you hookup with Bucky, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you ran your hands up his chest until they rested on his shoulders.

“I think you know,” you whispered as he shook his head and chuckled.

“Uh uh, I wanna hear you say it.” He purred, brushing his nose against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you smelt his oaky, but sweet body wash. Something like bergamot and oranges.

He squeezed your hips, a soft moan falling from your lips at the sensation.

“It’s because,” you swallowed thickly, “because I want you, Stevie.”

He hummed, hand on the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours.

You kissed back, the realization hitting you it became hotter and more desperate as you slid your tongue past Steve’s lips.

“All you needed to do was say those words and you could’ve had me all to yourself.” He smirks against your lips making you whimper.

His fingers are digging into your ass, rocking your hips over his. It’s the right amount of friction to have you melting into his touch.

When he picks you up, carrying you into his room to toss you onto his bed, you know you’ve made the wrong assumption about him.

“Now there’s nothin’ wrong with a man who likes vanilla,” he hums, hands exploring your body.

“But I’m a man who prefers a little more,” he meets your eyes, a devilish smirk and twinkle in his eyes, “flavour.”

He’s hovering over you, lips on your neck and jaw as his hips rut over yours.

“Go get that goddamn vibrator of yours,” he breathes as you look at him bewildered.

“You know that one, you like the third setting the most on it.” He winks standing up as your eyes trace along his body and to where his cock is straining.

“Go on, don’t sit there actin’ all dumb,” you spring to your feet, tripping over them as you quickly fetch it from your room.

“Good girl, lie back down on the bed, but get naked first.” He instructs you sternly.

You’d never had anyone tell you to strip, let alone have someone eyes so focused on you as you place the vibrator in his larger hand.

Starting with your sweater, you tear it off—chest exposed as Steve licks his lips.

“Go on, don’t be shy. You’re makin’ him real happy,” he smirks, squeezing his dick through his pants.

You tug your leggings down until you’re in your panties and Steve is giving you a look that tells you to continue.

It’s a thrill, stripping for him and watching his cock twitch at the sight of your curves, dips, and the marks you hate.

“Look at you,” he groans, “perfect little thing aren’t ya? Now I gotta be honest,” you swallow thickly.

“‘M not sure if he’ll fit like I planned, but we’ll make sure to get you warmed up,” he says before placing your hand over his dick.

It causes goosebumps to prickle your skin as he pushes you down onto the bed fully naked now.

“Now this,” he says, holding your vibrator, “isn’t even gonna compare to me by the time I’m done with you.”

It’s a promise that you know Steve will keep as he kneels between your legs.

“I expect you to keep these open, okay? Unless of course,” his cocky attitude breaks through, “you’re squeezin’ my head when you cum.”

You can’t even chide back, all thoughts gone at the sound of the click of your vibrator.

Steve wastes no time, spreading your folds and exploring you with his tongue before he connects the silicone tip to your clit.

It causes your body to jolt and Steve has to keep your legs open.

“What did I say, sweetheart. Keep ‘em open,” he reminds you as he slips a single fingers in you.

It’s already ten times better than your own, longer and thicker as they curl against your sweet spot.

Your walls squeeze him, fluttering as you grip onto his unmade bed sheets.

He teased you, edging you until you’re begging him to let you come with a dry throat.

“Steve, c’mon. ‘S’not fair,” you whine, tugging at his hair. He groans, hips rutting into the bed and you know you’ve found his weakness.

Two can play at this game.

You tug at his hair again, “please, Stevie? Wanna cum so fuckin’ bad—all over your face.”

He groans vibrator tossed on the bed as his mouth wraps around your clit, “fuck, baby.”

It’s a lewd sound, your wetness against his fingers and mouth, but it’s enough to send you over the edge.

“Make a mess, sweetheart. Gotta taste ya,” he groans against your core as you’re nearly suffocating him.

It’s intense, washing over you like a wave followed by a series of smaller ones until he’s flipping you over and your ass is in the air.

“Not so fuckin’ vanilla anymore, huh?” He slaps your ass, a squeak leaving your lips.

“Gonna have the taste of you on my mind for days now, practically have me pussy whipped already.”

His clothes are gone, all necessary ones before he’s bending his body over yours, “grip onto the headboard baby, you’ll need all the support you can get.”

And he’s not wrong, sliding into you and stretching you out as you wrap yourself fingers around the wood until he’s fully seated inside of you.

It’s a new fullness, one that you’ve never experienced and something you never want to forget.

“Bounce, baby.” He then says, as you look over your shoulder.

“Ride me, use the headboard and make yourself cum.” He smirks, slick coating both of your thighs.

Everything is new to you as Steve lets you take control, yet, you’re never truly in control.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Look how desperate you are to cum,” he taunts making you whimper.

He joins in soon, meeting your thrusts with his own until you’re both grunting and he can’t hold back.

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum.” He hissed, quickly pulling out to paint your back as he rubs your clit with his free hand and you feel the white hot explosion of pleasure for the second time that night.

You’ve both made a mess by the time you’re done, Steve cleaning you up with his boxers as you’re collapsing beside him still trying to catch your breath.

“You’ve ruined my vibrator for me,” you chuckled breathlessly as he turns to you with a smirk, “well it’s a good thing I’m your roommate then.”

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader #bucksfucks writes — [♡] ;#steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers one shots #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers drabble

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Note

Hi! So, I absolutely love your series where the MC is the kid of Lucifer, and I was wondering if I could request that with Diavolo and Barbatos? •v•

:0 you definitely can! Right now I’m just doing Diavolo, but Barb’s will be up sometime soon!

MC is Half Demon and Oh Shit They’re Diavolo’s Kid-

Diavolo wasn’t exactly what one would expect of the prince of Hell, I mean, he was suppressing the urge to bounce in his seat from pure excitement. I mean, his exchange program was starting! Humans, demons, and angels, all together, his dream was coming true.

All that was left was for the student to arrive, the portal opened, and the human fell flat on their back. Oof, maybe Diavolo should have set up some kind of landing zone filled with pillows. No matter! The human was-

…

What peculiar eyes this human had…

Oh… oh dear…

Dad-volo

The MC was his child, no question about it. This was… very unexpected. Well, the entire assembly hall was completely quiet, and the kid looked like they were getting impatient.

“HEY! Mind telling me what the hell is going on?!”

After that, Diavolo launches into his explanation, also the explanation that he’s definitely this kid’s dad. Kid was not impressed, they tried to square up with Diavolo and Lucifer had never been more confused as to what to do.

Well, the moment MC sprouted wings and launched themselves at Diavolo, Dia caught them with one hand and continued speaking like nothing happened.

MC, please calm down… Diavolo didn’t know they existed, let him make it up to them! They’re going to stay at the Demon Lord’s Castle! Dia’s going to be a good dad!

“This feels like the plot to the world’s most messed up fairytale.” MC jammed their hands into their pockets and grumbled. “I get sucked into hell and find out I’m royalty there. Great.”

Diavolo managed to smile and awkwardly reach out to give them a pat on the head, then retracted his hand after the kid shot him a glare. “Well, it’s not a very traditional fairytale, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“Mm, sure.” MC mumbled.

Okay, so his child wasn’t that enthusiastic about the exchange program, but Diavolo was sure they’d come around.

Dia tried everything he could possibly think of to get his kid to both like him and enjoy their time as an exchange student. A lot of things had… mixed results.

Also, legally recognizing MC as his child and legitimizing them caused a big stink amongst the nobles who were opposed to the exchange program to begin with. So MC then had to deal with a few assassins. Wonderful. Fantastic. Show stopping. Dia, be a good dad and comfort your angsty murder target- I MEAN preteen.

They do manage to build a good relationship fairly quickly despite their less than stellar first impressions, and Diavolo made them a promise that he knew he wouldn’t ever break: he would let them live as normal a childhood as possible.

This means that MC gets to do all the normal kid stuff that Diavolo wasn’t allowed to do. It honestly works out great for everyone. MC gets to live their life, Diavolo gets the satisfaction of knowing that his kid’s having fun, and Barbatos doesn’t need to worry about MC causing chaos in the castle.

Man… does this kid’s magic potential scare the shit out of everyone though…

Tired Uncle Lucifer

No. This has to be a violation of his worker rights. It cannot be legal for him to be this stressed.

He knew this exchange program was a bad idea. LUCIFER FUCKING KNEW IT. This kid was judging him. Why did he suddenly feel self conscious about every single one of his features? This child was picking him apart and they hadn’t even said anything!

He confiscated Asmo’s phone immediately, this was a matter of national security! Satan’s too! Beel as- oh shit Lucifer may have to give Beel the heimlich maneuver, then take his phone.

When all the brothers eventually got back to the HOL, they were greeted with Mammon getting shaken down by Levi.

“Lucifer! Ya won’t believe this! Levi- what’s wrong with you?” “The exchange student is Diavolo’s child.” “What..?” “*pops the cork off a bottle of Demonus* the exchange student’s Diavolo’s child.”

The worst part about this kid was that they took to the privileges of being royalty like a fish to water. MC went out and did whatever the fuck they wanted, and Lucifer needed to make sure a state of national emergency wasn’t called just because MC picked a fight at RAD.

It didn’t help that MC was just so unimpressed with Lucifer. Anytime Lucifer would tell them not to do something they would just raise their eyebrows and challenge his authority without saying a word.

What the fuck.jpg

The things he does for his prince boyfriend…

Cool Uncle Mammon

Huh, so this little pipsqueak is Lord Diavolo‘s kid? Hm, do ya think they’d let him into the royal treasury? No? Okay… lame.

Mammon then decides this kid would be just perfect for scamming people! Who is going to say no to the Crown Prince’s kid? A suicidal person, that’s who!

And the kid is… up for it? Wow, Mammon didn’t even have to grovel! Awesome!

It’s such a shame that Lucifer came in and promptly removed MC from Mammon’s presence. Tsk, killjoy…

Mammon and MC do get along swimmingly after MC stops angsting. Whenever they hang out it’s pure chaos.

And they would have gotten away with it too- wait, they do get away with it. Because who’s going to question the Crown Prince’s kid? >:)

Reclusive Uncle Leviathan

Levi was in the middle of throttling Mammon for his money back when Lucifer burst through the door looking like he had spent over 1000 Grimm on a gacha game only to not get the card he wanted.

And where was that human he said would be staying with them? Huh? The human’s HUH????!!!!

… wack. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped out on that Student Council Meeting…

Either way, ew, new person he needed to talk to. NO THANKS. Well, no thanks until MC started to visit the HOL to hang out with Mammon. Of course those two normies decided to bug him. OF COURSE.

Levi finally snapped when MC loudly proclaimed that they could totally beat Levi in Mario Kart. Haha, NO. Levi challenged the little runt to a 1 v 1 race on Rainbow Road.

Kid lost. Obviously. Rainbow Road is rigged.

Honestly, kid’s alright. Still a total normie, but not completely terrible.

Cat Uncle Satan

Huh, a half human child of the soon to be demon king, how very interesting.

Oh, and just look at Lucifer’s face. :D priceless. Satan wished he was fast enough to get his DDD out to snap a picture, but he wasn’t able to…

But back to MC, oh how very intriguing. How much power do they have in comparison to Diavolo? Will using that power rip their fragile little body apart? Would they learn to control it? Satan was just dying to find out.

His feelings on the child themselves were mixed at best. They were clearly unhappy with the situation and Satan could sympathize, being thrust into a completely new world and then being told you can’t leave and are also royalty? That has to be hard. But this kid was still being an unreasonable little shit.

Satan continued to try and study MC from afar until the kid themselves walked right up to him and half demanded half pleaded for his help in studying for a test.

Not being one to avoid an opportunity to flex how smart he is, Satan agreed to help out. (Nerrrrd)

And honestly, it went well. When the kid wasn’t being a little shit, they were actually quite pleasant to be around.

Overly Affectionate Uncle Asmo

…wut

Listen, when Asmo asked Lucifer to pick a cute human, he didn’t mean cute as in CHILD.

This kid was DIAVOLO’S?! What lucky human had gotten to have the experience of [Jesus Fucking Christ, Asmo I’m not writing what he said for the sake of the nation]

Anyhoo~ little MC just made his heart go “SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SO CUTE!” They were so cute Asmo could just eat them up!

But they were so mean! That scowl they always had on was going to give them wrinkles and ruin their perfectly cute face!

Sigh, oh well. He can’t manually rearrange people’s expressions. What he can do is take this child shopping. Poor Diavolo was constantly in his RAD uniform, this poor innocent baby shouldn’t have to suffer the same fate.

The kid continued to scowl at everything, but at the same time, their little quips were very entertaining. This little kid spitting verbal venom at anyone who displeased them reminded Asmo of someone… he just couldn’t place who, but they definitely had amazing hair and a cute face :3

Hungry Uncle Beel

Where’s the takeout- I mean human? What’s happening? …are all humans this small? Dang, that’s barely enough for a snack.

So the human’s not going to live with us because they’re not fully human and Diavolo’s kid? Huh. Wild. Anyway, what’s for dinner?

Beel’s not too invested in this drama, he misses Belphie too much to be that interested…

The kid’s weirdly interested in how cool and strong Beel is though. MC tails him to the gym pretty often.

Diavolo and Beel already being gym buddies send tweet-

Since this benevolent little shit likes Beel so much, they decided to take it upon themselves to help with the family drama.

Beel finds that very sweet 🥺

Murder sleepy Uncle Belphie

Oh man… if you thought Belphie was being unfair to L!MC due to their parentage… hoo boy…

When this kid waltzed up the attic steps like they ran the place, Belphie needed to hold himself back from trying to break down the door and throttle this kid.

Pff, of course Diavolo would have a half human kid. Of course.

…kid beat the shit out of him when he tried to kill them. We stan this MC.

After all is said and done, Belphie still isn’t overly fond of MC. They’re brash and rude and only funny 40% of the time. They don’t even like napping 😒

But Beel likes the little runt, so Belphie and MC put up with each other.

Bonus! Your Angelic Uncle Simeon’s Chihuahua

:0 friend!

MC: *speaks*

>:0 not friend! Begone! *throws crucifix*

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #Obey me Headcanons #obey me! headcanons #obey me Diavolo #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor

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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

French Class [6]

A/N: You guys might want to whack out your love song playlist for this one…I cried writing this BYE I'm posting this from my grave!!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, ANGST, smut

words: ~ 3.8 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @yeostars, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek

You: can I come over? I kind of need u

H/N: you need me huh…you’re lucky I’m home alone

It always starts differently. Some other question, or a subtle message of telling him you’re bored, or a flat-out confession of being horny. The ending is always the same. You, naked in his bed. You just had to get there, and things were easy when you were already on his dorm’s doorstep.

The moment he had opened the door, you had fistfuls of his hair between your fingers and attacked his mouth in a feverish kiss. He made a noise between a laugh and surprise but reacted quickly. His lips parted right away, letting you in, and you tasted mint from the chewing gum he liked so much.

“Let me- at least- close the door,” he mumbled. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you today?”

You stepped aside and mirrored his grin. He was acting surprised, but the way he instantly locked your lips after he had shut the door told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. You ran your hands down his torso and along the side of his thighs. His happy hum only poured oil into the fire, and you saw no reason as to why you should have kept your clothes on any longer. In minutes, in the middle of heated kisses and clumsy chuckles, your clothes were discarded, and you were left in your underwear. You stumbled into his bedroom in a tangle of arms and legs and heads barely pulling apart.

“Will you tell me about the date you had today or are we skipping over that part?” he asked, as he pushed you down by the shoulders onto his bed. You groaned a little, not even knowing where to start.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” he asked. Only a few nights ago you had consoled him after his failed date, now the roles were reversed.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said. He was climbing on top of you now, and the weight of him between your thighs still did the same things to you it had done the first time. There was one of his random playlists playing quietly from the speakers, but you were both too occupied to even consider switching the music off. You weren’t in the mood for a chat, not when he was biting and sucking bruises into your chest, pushing aside your bra just enough. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it go this easily.

“Tell me about it or I won’t take one more piece of clothing off your body,” he threatened. You shot him an are-you-serious-look while he only blinked at you innocently, like he was awaiting your response.

“Fine,” you groaned. “But hurry, now.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, before unclasping your bra and throwing it to the other side of the room. “Go ahead, I expect a story.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, but when he sucked on your nipple all of a sudden, and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud ever so perfectly, your eyes moved to the back of your head involuntarily. And, before he could complain, you started to retell today’s events.

“Alright. First of all, he acted all gentleman-y. Pulling back my chair at the restaurant, letting me have a look at the menu first, letting me order first, asking me if I was okay with our seats because they were in the sunshine, or whether he should have requested we get a different in the shade table, blah, blah, blah.”

With the lewd noises he was making, kissing your chest and fumbling with your breasts, you almost wondered whether he was paying attention to you at all.

“I’m waiting for the plot twist,” he chuckled. “If he had been this great, you wouldn’t be in my bed right now, would you?” He was now on his way to your lower regions. Your breaths came out shaky when he gripped your hips with familiar fingertips and placed a few kisses there, right above the material of your underwear. Nonetheless, you had to continue your story.

“Oh, it’s coming,” you said. “Because I suspect, the only reason he was acting that way was to compensate. For the fact that he was an hour late.”

He stifled a laugh, and you slapped his head playfully. “It’s not funny! I stood outside that restaurant on a busy street like an idiot for an hour. During exam season!”

“I wonder, if studying is so special to you- ,” he said. He tugged on your underwear, and you barely cared about his words when you were already imagining his mouth on your pussy. “Why aren’t you at home right now, doing just that?”

“Too frustrated,” you groaned, spreading your legs, practically inviting him in. “You don’t get it. That was only the beginning of the date. It gets worse.”

“Oh, damn,” he laughed, and you were going to slap him again. Harder, this time. But his tongue kitten-licked over your clit and you didn’t dare interrupt him further.

“First of all, he turned out to be boring. An economics major. And look, I’m not generalizing, I’ve met some cool economics majors. But when I said I never really understood the whole thing with inflation and deflation, I wasn’t asking for him to explain it to me. I know what it means, I just meant to say money is the root of all evil,” you said, little moans slipping inbetween your sentences. He laughed whilst sipping on your clit. You couldn’t be mad at his laughing anymore. In fact, at the sound of his chuckles, your own lips curled into a smile, too. God, he was so good with his tongue.

“But turns out he loved money. Like it was the sole reason he was doing anything. When he showed me his gold watch I almost yawned,” you continued.

“Dating a rich guy can have its upsides too, though,” he said, but you knew he was joking. He was running the tips of his fingers over your core, and you whimpered at how badly you wanted him to put them inside of you. You loved watching him, loved feeling his hair tickle the side of your thighs and having his free hand laying on top of your hipbone. The familiarity of it all, his little habits, made your heart heavy, so full of emotion, all of a sudden. But you had to snap out of it.

“Not this guy. He kept saying these lowkey sexist things I won’t repeat now. It’ll only make me mad again. He was one of those who thought money would buy him a girlfriend. And I was really trying to see the good in him…only there was none,” you said.

“Alright, I’m starting to understand why you needed some cheering up,” he said. “Good thing you’re at the right place. I know just the thing.”

At this, he slid his digits into you. You hummed and dropped your head into the plush pillow. Slowly, you exhaled, happy you finally got to relax after being so upset. But of course, he had to interrupt. Again.

“Did I say you could stop? Was that the end of the story?” he said. How did he expect you to form a coherent sentence? He fingered you gently, but the slowness of it all only drove you crazier. You felt every tiny sensation, every new bit of you he touched.

“No,” you sulked. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Go on, then,” he encouraged you, grinning because he was proud of your reaction he had caused.

“Fuck- okay. He was super shitty to the waiter. I’m talking about criticizing everything. This man had the audacity to complain about the food. I’m not a food critic, but I swear the food was amazing, there was nothing to fault at all,” you said, and then whined when he switched from licking your clit to sucking it between his teeth. You knew he was doing this on purpose. To make speaking harder for you.

“Oh my god, H/N. Wait, let me finish this. Not only was he horrible to the waiter in person, but he also made fun of the waiter’s appearance behind his back. And all along he expected me to find him funny. I used to think he had a sense of humor but not after today. Blech.”

“At least you got a free dinner?” he said, and without awaiting your answer, went back to work. Your head was spinning in pleasure, and you could only laugh sarcastically at his suggestion.

“Yeah. And after that train wreck of a date, he really thought he’d get to stick his tongue down my throat,” you said.

“Did he at least ask permission?” asked the boy between your legs.

“Mhm…but I told him I don’t do that on the first date,” you said. “Safe to say there won’t be another date, though.”

He looked up now, laughing more than before. You grinned, mainly because the sight of him was so cute. He folded his hands on your belly and put his face down onto your skin to giggle. In no way could you be upset or urge him to keep giving you head. In fact, you had forgotten about all of that for a while, as he seemed to enjoy your misfortune a little too wildly. You should have been hungry, eager to have the half-naked boy inside of you. Yet, you laughed at the way his breaths tickled your stomach and when he finally made eye contact, it was a wholly different sort of hunger which overcame you. Instead of the heat he usually made you feel, it was a comfortable warmth that was in your chest. It reminded you of a bonfire or of drinking your favorite hot drink on a cool autumn day.

“I want to watch you come,” he said, casually. “Were you close?”

You were so lost in his trustworthy, dreamy eyes, you almost forgot to reply. Quickly, you nodded and hummed.

“I would have already come, had you not pestered me to tell you all the details of my date,” you said. The way his cheeks beamed when he smiled made you feel as if your insides were turning into mush.

“I’m sorry. I’m your friend, aren’t I allowed to ask how your day went?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” you said. The word ‘friend’ echoed off every wall in your head until you wished you could have deleted it from the dictionary.

“I’ll make sure it feels extra good now,” he said, kissing your stomach. You shivered as you watched his gentle lips move lower, to your hips and the insides of your thighs. The touch felt like butterfly wings on your skin, and the tardiness of it made you impatient. When his tongue came in contact with your clit again, you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He tried to start slowly, but then you gripped his hair tightly, and carefully pushed him further. It was something you did often, a way to tell him you wanted more without having to use words. After all this time, he understood perfectly. Your clit was between his lips and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pleasure. It felt incredible, creating a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach. His fingers grazed over your slit until you were whimpering and shifting your hips, trying to make him hurry.

One of his digits slid into you easily, curling against your sweet spot, and it hit you only now how much you had missed him between your legs since he had stopped a few minutes ago. It made you feel as though you were suddenly overwhelmed with all of him, but you were willing to let the heat crash over you if it meant you could be close to him.

“Am I making it up to you now?” he asked as he pulled away merely for a breath. “I’ll turn your day into a good one after all.”

In a different tone his words would have sounded like the exact thing one would have expected to hear from a fuckboy in the bedroom. He could have boasted and bragged endlessly about how great he was with his tongue and fingers – he would have been right – but he didn’t mean it like that. You could tell from the uprightness and the authenticity in his voice that he really was doing his best because he wanted to make you feel better and turn your day around. Because you were special to him. Or so you desperately hoped.

Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as if you were trapping him between your thighs. But he was right there, and he would gladly stay for so much longer, and to say it puzzled you was an understatement. The boy who belonged to everybody, who was known by all of the campus, was treating you like you were royalty, and not the other way around. You moaned, his name inevitably falling from your lips. He added another finger and the slightest stretch made you lose your mind for a split second.

“That guy could have never made you feel this good, could he?” he suddenly asked. Your initial response was a helpless whine. You had been so close, and his talking had interrupted the otherworldly bliss for a moment.

“No, never,” you then whimpered shortly. ‘No’ was such a tiny word. It could barely encapsule what you truly meant to say. Which was that it would have never even gotten that far. That other guys couldn’t even have you at all. They didn’t get their turn to try and beat him. Not as of lately, at least. That you didn’t so much as dare to think about sleeping with other guys. That even before you had gone on the date, you had known it wouldn’t lead to anything. No guy could let you develop an interest on him in the same way the boy between your legs had done it. No other would be able to kidnap your brain like that. H/N was always there. Even when it was only you and your sex toys, you would automatically pretend it was him getting you off. You were so far gone that it was embarrassing how long it had taken you to admit it to yourself. But it was a colossal thing to confess to him, and you would never do that. Rejection would hurt a billion times more than whatever it was you two had now.

Your heart was racing as you closed your eyes. You had been so lost in thought, it was wondrous you hadn’t fallen yet. But you were right on the edge, making your breaths come out like puffs and a string of moans and swears sound from your lips. He too had stopped talking, concentrating on the task at hand, and judging by the way your back arched he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Oh my god- “ you whimpered. “I’m so close, H/N.”

This time he didn’t reply, which was for the best. Only a few seconds passed until you started to quiver and whine beneath him. You were going to outer space behind your eyelids as your high rushed through you. Your fingers curled and tightened in his locks while your legs clenched around his head. He was quick to pull your thighs apart again, still not being finished. For long seconds you swam in pleasure, with nothing on your mind but bursting stars. He was heaven, knowing precisely how far he could take it until you were too sensitive to take any more.

When you were at that point, he finally pulled away and looked up at your crumpled form. There was a lazy smile playing in the corner of your lips and your vision was hazy after having had your eyes closed for a while. He climbed up your body until his chest was against yours so he could really look at you.

“I get all of this without ever having been on a single date with you? I’m so lucky,” he said. You only smiled at him, at a loss for words. What were you to say? The two of you were clearly past the awkward dating stage already.

“I’m lucky you let me come over all the time,” you said. “I would have expected the campus fuckboy to be busier. To not have an empty spot in his bed every night.”

“Ah, shut up,” he said. “I’d rather have you here than a girl I don’t know at all. Look, I’m really tired so I don’t know how this will go…but can I?” He was on his knees, a tent visible in his boxers. With a questioning look, he was tugging them down his legs now.

“Of course,” you said. As you watched him roll on a condom, your ears perked up. Did that song have to come on shuffle just now? The coziest, most romantic love song you adored so much? You knew if you looked him in the eyes you’d be done for. But there wasn’t anywhere else to look when he settled between your legs and held up his weight with his forearms. His eyes were deep enough for you to get lost within a second. Distracting yourself was impossible. The one last thing you could do was to reach between the two of you and guide his length into you.

The song’s chorus came on, you looked at him once again, and suddenly you were all his. You didn’t need to tell him so. He thrust gently, almost carefully, like he had never done it with you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so vivaciously, you wondered whether it had turned autonomous and was now trying to jump out of your body, onto his skin and through it, so it could nestle next to his own heart.

Neither of you spoke. Yet, there had never been so much chemistry, such a heavy amount of uncommunicated emotions between the two of you. You were ready to hang on his every word, should he decide to speak up. In your head rampaged a billion sentiments you needed him to know, but there was no option to express them adequately. Perhaps there were simply no words in the English language to declare your feelings for him.

Small whimpers and moans left your lips only for him to hear. Sometimes he moved a little quicker, gifting you with the most perfect sounds he could make. And to know you were the cause for it sent you into overdrive. His mouth was right above yours. If you lifted your head slightly, you could have kissed his sweet, sweet lips. But you were so afraid. What would he think? You had never kissed him during sex. Not softly, like you wanted it so terribly.

Even worse, you craved so much more than that. You wanted to pull him in, envelope his mouth in your own, crawl over the edge of his lips and reside in his chest for safety. Because that’s what he was. Comfort. Reassurance. Home. How foolish you had been, pretending this little fling would lead to nothing more. You really had told yourself this would work. No feelings. Just fun. You couldn’t deny having fun with him. He was the best company you had ever known, and he had become your most precious friend quickly. It was as if you had only been waiting for the silly, flirty boy to sit across from you in the library and make weak advances towards you.

The love song tuned out slowly, replaced by something more sensual and sinful. In accordance with the new background noise, he gripped your hips a little meaner and went faster. You barely noticed how his breathing had sped up as he was getting closer to his orgasm. A trance had overcome you, transfixing you on his godlike features and how much it hurt to know you couldn’t call him yours. In your head you were made for each other. They always said to date your best friend, didn’t they? You could try to turn back time, go back to your first meeting place, at the party. See if things would turn out different. But you knew they wouldn’t. As much as your fear tried to suppress it – you would take the same path again, stumbling head-first into his arms and letting him into your life like a crashing wave of laughter and heart-crushing conversations.

Now you reflected in despair, how he had taken your heart in a storm, without having to try too hard. And worst of all, you were okay with it. Your heart was secure with him, you thought. The feelings yearned to be spoken out loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Always, so fucking good.”

He snapped his hips against yours, burying his cock deep inside of you and all you could muster was a hum of agreement. This is what you got for keeping him at arms-length from the beginning. Wasn’t it you who had challenged him to be friends and only that? Perhaps you would be okay, so long as no one else called him theirs either. You could go on like this, letting him use you for sexual relief and making him laugh when he needed it. Gladly, you would take the pain of not being allowed to love him with your whole being if it meant you could see him whenever you wanted. Exposing those silly emotions would wreck your friendship and you wouldn’t let it happen.

He grunted and only then, when he lowered his head into the crook of your neck and moaned your name, you realized he was reaching his high. Softly, you cradled his head in your hands, as if it was the last time you could hold him like this. When he put his forehead against yours, he had his eyes closed and his chest was moving steadier than before.

“You’re the best,” he whispered. “Stay the night?”

Should you have gone home, and missed him all night? Would you have regretted saying no while you curled up in bed with no Cheshire-cat-grin-boy to hold? Or were you to remain in his bed, and pray you would survive the torture of not speaking your mind? His skin radiated the most wonderful warmth and you wanted to trace his lips with your eyes until you fell asleep. That’s how quickly it was decided.

“Okay,” you answered.

456 notes · View notes

twinkleimagines · 3 years

Note

Hiii drew smut where they meet from Madison and have been talking and then the cast plus y/n go out clubbing and they confess there feelings / also can drew be rough.

*Keep it on the low*

Warning: smut and language.

I got carried away with this one so I hope you guys like.

“ I just feel like we never see each other anymore “ you spoke over the phone Bailey.

“ I know” she whined out. “ listen we’ll fly you out this weekend so we can hang and you can meet my friends okay? You’re going to love them “ she insisted.

“ okay” you agreed, the feeling of excitement rushing through you. Madison was your best friend since middle school and it had been a touch transition since she began filming her new tv show, Outer Banks. Of course you talked on the phone but it wasn’t the same, and you missed her truly.

You had almost became envious of her new cast mates because they were daily posting videos and pictures with each other and it made you miss her more than ever .

You quickly went back to your bedroom, packing a suit case- the weekend couldn’t come any faster .

****

“ I’m walking down the escalator now” you spoke as you sat on the phone with Madison trying to find your way to her.

“ okay - wait I think I see you” she spoke out.

“ y/n!” You heard someone yell from in front of you. You lifted your head only to see Madison standing at the bottom of the escalator, her hand waving at 90 miles per hour.

“ Maddy!” You yelled before jogging your way down the already moving steps.

“ oh my gosh!” You yelled out as you both wrapped each other in a tight hug.

“ I’m gonna cry “ she spoke as she squeezed her arms around your shoulders.

“ ugh I know I’ve missed you so much” you poured .

“ c’mon we’ve only got the weekend and I have soooo much to show you” she insisted, tugging on your arm .

****

The ride to Madison’s hotel that she was staying it a was a bit of a drive from the apartment. She was staying pretty close to the beach and Charleston was probably one of the most beautiful cities you had ever laid your eyes on.

Madison had updated you on a lot, including a new girl she was talking to as well as her new friends and their characters on the show.

“ this Rafe guy sounds like a dick” you joked.

“ yeah but you’ll love Drew he’s literally polar opposite than his character . “

******

"Ahhh she's back!" a blonde headed boy beamed, running over towards your friend, ingulfing her in a hug.

"Rudy this is Y/n" She said with a wide smile, pulling you over.

"Hi" You beamed holding your hand out but Rudy instead pulled you into a hug.

"So glad you finally made it. Maddie over here wouldn't shut up about how much she missed you" He joked.

"Awe Maddie " You said with a sympathetic pout.

"Shut up" She laughed while rolling her eyes before pulling you further into the hotel.

"Guys" She spoke out loudly to a group of people sitting on her couch causing all of their eyes to advert towards you. " This is Y/n" She announced pulling you up next to her.

You awkwardly waved, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as she practically put the spot light onto you.

"I'm Chase" One guy said leaning over the couch, holding his hand out.

"I'm Madelyn " The blonde girl next to him said standing up, walking over towards you. " it's nice to meet you" she beamed, pulling you into a hug.

'Okay so everyone is big into hugs,' you thought. You smiled widely at her before you looked over at another one walking towards you.

"I'm Jonathan Daviss, but you can call me JD" He spoke. you nodded excitedly.

"That's a cool nickname" you beamed, causing a smile to form on his face. You then looked over towards the last face on the couch.

Woah.

Now this man- he almost took your breath away. He stood up, his tall figure stretching high towards the ceiling.

"Hi, i'm Drew" He spoke, his voice the perfect tone, almost sounded like music to your ears. He had these sky blue eyes, perfectly pink lips, a little bit of fuzz on his jaw from being recently shaved, and brown hair draped over the sides of his forehead, parting perfectly down the middle. Your heart began to pound as he reached his hand out for you to shake. You hadn't realized you were staring until Madison nudged you with her elbow, bringing you out of your trance.

"Oh uhm yeah- i mean hi I'm y/n" You stuttered embarrassingly. He smiled a bright smile, his white teeth shining perfectly on his perfectly aligned face.

You sighed deeply. You never believed in love at first sight until now. How perfect this stranger was to you. If it weren't for you not wanting to humiliate yourself even more than you already were, you would've continued looking at him with admiration, but instead you turned your head to look at Maddie, trying to not to creep the poor guy out.

"okay guys I'm starving" Chase spoke up as the room filled with silence. "who wants to go eat?" He asked throwing his hands up. You grinned , already loving everyone's bubbly personality.

You sat your bag down onto the ground before tucking your hair behind your ear, watching as everyone began to make their way out the door.

"After you" Drew said, you and him being the last ones left in the room.

"Thanks" you said softly, walking out in front of him as he held the door open for you.

Who would've known that this would only the beginning of a very special relationship.

********

"Drew" You spoke out before his lips placed onto yours once again, his hand placed firmly on your thigh as your were tangled in his hair.

"Hmm" He hummed against your lips, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

"We should tell them" You breathed out in between kisses.

"Mmm" he mumbled, his eyes closed as his lips trailed down your jaw towards your neck.

"I'm serious Drew I don't want to hide you anymore" You responded pulling away from him.

He stopped his movements, making eye contact with you.

"You sure?" He asked.

You and Drew had instantly hit it off that first weekend Madison brought you over.

It had happened the first night you had stayed the night. Everyone had fallen asleep and you and Drew stayed up for hours on hours endlessly talking about anything and everything. The sparks were flying. You were so engaged in every word that came out of his mouth, his sentences sounding like lullabies to your ears.

Before you had left you both had exchanged numbers and before you could even make it to the airport you were both texting each other. Throughout the first week you both spent every night on the phone until one had fallen asleep. It had almost became addictive the way he made you feel.

Neither of you spoke of your friendship to anyone though. Mainly wanting to take things slow but you also didn't want to upset anyone or cause any issues between Drew and Madison. He assured you it wouldn't upset anyone or cause issues but at the same time he wanted to respect your wishes and keep things a secret.

You both had been virtually seeing each other for three weeks before he flew you out for a weekend, just the two of you. You had stayed with him the whole weekend, movie nights and a lot of sex.

This week though you were invited by the whole group, and right now you were hidden off in Drew's hotel hiding from the group with Drew laid on top of you, the both of you shirtless.

"We can tell them tonight okay, i just want to enjoy the time we have together right now" He insisted. You simply nodded before leaning your head forward before placing your lips against his once again.

Drew sat up, smirking at you as he tugged on your jeans, pulling them down your thighs, exposing your pink laced panties that complimented your skin so well.

"So beautiful" Drew mumbled as his hands massaged against your thighs before reaching up towards your panties pulling them down as well. He reached over to the nightstand grabbing the condom on the top before pushing his own pants down, exposing his hardened pink shaft, the veins popping out the side.

You stared in admiration at the size as he placed the rubber over him.

"Flip over" he instructed. You quickly obliged, your face in his pillow. He tucked his arm under your waist, pulling your hips bag some to wear your bottom was pointed upwards.

You gasped loudly as you felt his tip insert into you, stretching your walls around him.

"fuck" you moaned out as he pushed into you, his hips pressed against your cheeks before he pulled back out, letting your own juices help lubricate him before he pushed back in at a faster speed.

"Fuck you're tight" Drew groaned out as he slowly pulled himself of you again, leaving just the tip in. You looked over your shoulder, smirking up at him as he looked down at you, his Adams apple poking out. Drew sighed heavily , closing his eyes for a brief second almost coming undone right then and there just from the sight of you.

He finally regained his composer, looking back down at you before pressing his hand onto the back of your head pushing your face further into the pillow before he began moving his hips once again, this time at a much faster pace.

"God Drew" you cried out as he hit your spot with each thrust, your hands balling in a fist around his sheets as you struggled to breath, overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You arched your back further against Drew, giving him more access to go deeper into you, your hips moving causing your walls to tighten around him.

"Fuck" He breathed out, lowing his head some as we watched himself sliding in and out of you, his abs flexing with each thrust.

"Oh yes daddy yes "You moaned out, reaching behind you, grabbing hold of his hand that was placed on your bottom.

"You like that baby?" He asked before placing a firm smack against your left cheek. You hissed out , biting down on your bottom lip as your eyes focused on his body jerking forward over and over again, every inch of his body flexing as he moved himself in and out of you.

Since that first weekend you and Drew had spent together alone, he had learned more and more ways to work your body, especially when he realized you enjoyed it rough like him.

"Pull my hair baby" you pleaded, attempting to tug on his hand that had a firm grip on your hip while your body continued rocking back and forth.

Drew quickly obliged, reaching up to grab a hand full of your hair, pulling you back towards him, your back arched to where your arms stretched out, your hands placed against his pillows.

"God yes" You winced out, a slight stinging as he had a tight grip on your hair.

"Fuck princess" he groaned feeling his climax beginning to build. His thrusts began to speed up, your tits bouncing in the air as he continued to pound into you. You leaned up some, arm wrapping around his neck . You both began to lower, you practically sitting in his lap as he leaned back, propped up on one arm as the other had his hand wrapped against your throat. His thrusts were now at a steady but rough pace, slamming up against you as he placed sloppy kisses alongside your shoulder.

"God" He groaned out as his thrusts slowed down, turning more into grinds as his cock pulsed inside you, his warm load filling the condom. You begin rocking your hips back and forth along him riding your own high out, moaning his name out loudly as your toes curled, your climax euphoric. You climbed off of Drew, flopping your body down onto the his bed, breathing heavily as you ran your hands through your hair.

"That was amazing" you breathed out. Drew nodded, himself out of breath as well.

"I'm gonna get a shower" He responded as he stood up, his member beginning to soften. "We gotta meet everyone in two hours. Wanna join?" He asked. You smiled up at him before nodding, grabbing ahold of his reached out hand.

*****

"Finally" Madison groaned as she saw you climbing out of the black SUV that escorted you to the night club you and the gang were linking up at .

"Sorry got caught up" you responded brushing the hair out of your face as the wind blew against it.

"I can see" she chuckled, her eyes focused on the round purple hickey on your collarbone. Your eyes widened, you had almost forgotten about it. You had saw the hickey as you did your make up and Drew's shower but had forgotten to cover it.

"Who were you with?" She asked out of curiosity but you only shook your head, pretending to be shy about your actions.

"ugh okay come on everyone else is inside" She responded. You nodded before tugging slightly on your black dress as it rode up your thighs. You had your hair down with white sneakers on, a simple butterfly necklace and a skin tight strapless dress on that barely that went down a few inches on your thighs.

The music was loud, everyone definitely lit as you both walked in. Your eyes roamed the club. It was definitely a party style. There a lot of people around dancing, and neon objects glowing in the black lights. Madison guided you to the corner booth your shared friends resided in, including Drew.

""You look so cute!" Madelyn beamed as she wrapped you in a tight hug.

"You too babes" You responded, well yelled as you placed your chin on her shoulder, only to see Drew standing behind her, his eyes focused on your body. He almost looked upset. Seeming how you were still on the low about your relationship you didn't confront him, but you did check him out from afar. He stood on the side next to JD black denim jeans with a white striped button up collared shirt, with his signature gold chain around his neck and a black watch on his wrist.

Despite just getting your back blown out by Drew, you had to leave before anyone came searching for you so you didn't get to see Drew dressed up, the last image you had of him was of him in a towel and his wet hair slicked back.

He was looking so good at this point you had to distance yourself from him before you made it obvious of your secret.

"Come dance" Madelyn pleaded tugging on your arm.

"I need to be drunk before i get onto the dance floor" You joked. Madelyn though took you serious and walked over to the bar, ordering at least two shots for everyone since you were each going to be getting an Uber back to the hotels.

"Okay drink up" She responded holding both yours and her shot in the air. You quickly glanced over towards your secret boyfriend who was watching you intensely before you tossed your head back opening your throat, letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat.

"phew" you said, a shiver following shortly after.

"Okay, One more " Madelyn insisted. You didn't plan to get shit faced of course , but you were definitely interested in a good time so you obliged, repeating the same action again, this time the liquids going down a bit easier. You both stood for a second in silence before she shook her head.

"I think one more with do us justice " She grinned. You chuckled, already feeling a slight buzz coming as the alcohol spread through your blood stream.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" You heard someone mumble from behind you. You looked over to see Drew standing behind you. You furrowed your brows together. How the hell did he get over there so fast?

"Don't " you mumbled before looking down at the table trying to avoid his gaze. "You're making it obvious" You responded before taking a step away, turning your back towards him.

Unfortunately you didn't notice how much those words actually upset Drew. IT had almost felt like he was an embarrassment to you with how much effort you put in to hiding him so he walked away, finding his way back next to JD.

"You okay man?" JD asked as he saw the obvious frown on Drew's face.

"Yeah man" He mumbled as he looked across the both of them, watching you quickly gulp away yet another shot of alcohol, bursting into laughter shortly after with Madelyn. He shook his head in disappointment. Of course he wanted you to have fun but he just didn't want you to get so waisted you end up doing something you regret and him not being able to help you since you didn't want him to show his affection towards you in front of everyone.

"Want a shot?" Drew asked glancing over at JD who also looked not too amused at the moment with the environment and in need of some lighting up. They both watched you and Madelyn make your way to the dance floor, merging in with the crowd as the quickly took their first shot, both of them sighing heavily as they attempted to mask the burning feeling.

You immediately began swaying your hips to the upbeat music, the alcohol coursing through your body, giving you an almost out of body type feeling, something you usually didn't get unless you were in bed with Drew.

You didn't intend to jump into the party that fast. after 2 songs Chase had came by with more shots, unaware to the previous t3 you both had taken but neither of you denied them, quickly throwing your head back, wiping the drips off your chin as you looked over at Drew who surprisingly paid you no attention. You dancing slowed down as you realized the group Drew was associating with.

You could see JD and Rudy with Drew which was not an issue. it was the 3 bimbos standing with them too, one in particular standing too close for your comfort towards Drew, her index finger twirling in a poorly curled strand of hair.

You rolled your eyes, jealously now running through you. It was obviously intensified from the alcohol but you wanted to drag him away from the girls and show those girls exactly who he belonged to but you knew you couldn't say anything considering you and him were a secret.

"Hi" You heard from behind you. It was a tall brunette guy, pretty stocky with what looked to be hazel eyes and curly brown hair. At least that what you guessed since the dance floor was only lit up from black lights above you.

"Hi" You said with a friendly smile before turning back around, a frown forming as you noticed Drew laughing at whatever the girl closest to him just said.

"You got a name?" The guy asked, dancing behind you. You turned your head, almost ready to tell him to piss off until you glanced over towards Drew who still had not even given you a glance.

"Y/n" You responded as you turned your body completely around, facing towards him.

You studied his face. He looked cute, or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding your judgment. To your drunken eyes, he favored Timothee Chalamet to you, which was some one who was a sight for sore eyes.

- but, never the less, he wasn't Drew.

The guy mentioned his name back to you but between the alcohol and the music , you didn't hear him clearly. You looked to your side to see Chase and Madelyn in their own little world so you shrugged your shoulders, turning back towards the tall boy.

"You come here with someone?" He asked as he took a step closer, his body swaying along with yours to the music. You glanced over your shoulder towards Drew, the same scenario playing as earlier . You rolled your eyes becoming agitated with Drew before you looked back forward trying not to be obvious.

"I thought i did but it's looking like they didn't come in with me" You said, your lips close to his ear as he leaned forward to hear you.

"Huh" He responded leaning back. "That's to bad. You're very beautiful" He responded. You grinned widely, enjoying the attention.

The song changed, turning to a slower song, a more sensual vibe to it. You turned around, swaying your hips up against the guy as his hand wrapped around your waist.

You usually wouldn't do this, but between the alcohol and your jealousy towards Drew, you were enjoying every second of it in hopes Drew would catch on and realize what he was losing.

And surprisingly , that's exactly what happened.

Drew tried to play things your way. He tried to pretend that there was nothing going on between the two of you. He even gave other women attention to make it believable but it was all fake smiles and laughs when really all he wanted was to hold you. He did try his best though, that is until he looked up to check on you only to see your body being held by another guy, your ass pressed against the guys crotch as he practically dry humped you from behind.

Now Drew didn't drink as much as you did, but he did have 1 to 2 shots , enough to help spark a fire inside of him, rage flowing through his veins. Drew didn't hesitate to make his way over to you, his mind only focused on removing the guy from his girl.

"Y/n what the fuck" He spat out as he tugged on your hand, trying to remove you from him. Your eyes widened, guilt instantly flowing through you. You didn't mean for any of this to happen and seeing Drew standing in front of you fuming, you couldn't help but to feel embarrassed by your actions.

"Man back off alright she's just having a good time" The guy said with a cocky smirk plastered across his face.

"Fuck off " Drew scolded before looking back at you, completely brushing the guy off.

"This is really how you want to sell it ?" He said, his voice louder than normal because of the music, but those surrounding him including Chase and Madelyn hearing.

"Oh go fuck yourself Drew" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. You began to march off of the dance floor, making your way towards the table you were previously at, leaving the stranger stranded.

"REal mature Y/n" He responded following closely behind you. The rest of the group followed behind, beyond confused as to why the two of you would even be arguing like this.

"Oh but you weren't doing the same thing over here with the chick ? Laughing at every little thing she said" You spat out.

He threw his hands up.

"Y/n i was trying to play your little game of secrets" He argued back.

"Wait what secrets?" Madison spat out. The both of you stared at each other, unsure who was going or not going to spill the truth.

"No point in hiding it anymore Y/n" Drew argued. You furrowed your brows in frustration, crossing your arms over your chest as Drew spoke. Which he was absolutely right which upset you anymore.

"Somebody better start talking in point two second or -"

"We're dating" you interrupted, looking over towards Madison.

Everyone's jaw dropped except for JD's, his response was jut of him shaking his head.

"What!?" Madison yelled out in shock.

"Like talking?" She asked, looking between the two of you. " Or like, dating dating?"

"More like dating dating" Rudy butted in, pushing his index finger into a circle he made with his other hand, indicating intercourse.

You quickly placed your head in your hand with embarrassment.

"No fucking way" Chase responded, a wide grin on his face.

"Bro why didn't you tell me?" Chase yelled out placing his hand on Drew's shoulder.

"We didn't want anyone mad at us or like, i don't know it ruin this friendship we all have" You responded, lowering your head in disappointment.

"Y/n are you delusional? Why would that make any of us mad ?" Madison replied with a wide grin on his face.

"You guys, i called it" JD finally spoke, a cocky smirk across his face.

"Whaattt? " you responded looking over at him with confusion.

"You guys have been clung to each other since you first met. I'm not stupid" He laughed. You shook your head, a grin forming on your face.

"Okay the cats out of the bag so you guys don't have to continue pretending okay? " Madelyn responded. "Can we please get back to dancing?" She pleaded. They all nodded before the group once again went their separate ways, leaving you and Drew alone at the table.

"I'm sorry" You responded stepping closer towards him, placing your hand on his.

"ME too" He responded looking down at you.

"I kind of want to get out of here, yanno" You said with a smirk on your face. He grinned back, nodding his head.

"agreed".

*****

Hope you guys liked!

✨feedback as well as a like and reblog is always appreciated 💗✨

#drew starkey #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagine #smut #obx fiction #drew starkey dirty imagine #drew starkey smut

430 notes · View notes

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Not So Easy

prompt: Harry and Y/N have both had a rough week. Ivy is in the prime of her terrible twos. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

word count: 6.2k

warnings: swearing, smut, a little angst

AN: Fulfilling this request ***. This is part of the CEO!Harry verse. If you enjoy please like, reblog, and come chat with me about it x

*** <--- click for visuals

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It was a gorgeous, cool Saturday evening and Y/N had been cooped up in the house all week due to nasty rainstorms that lasted the whole week. All of Y/N’s friends had canceled plans for one reason or another. Anne came down with flu and couldn’t visit like she was suppose to.

Harry had an extra awful week at work - which was saying something - and hadn’t been able to let it go. The frustration and irritation he usually was good at leaving at the office at the end of the workday hadn’t been happening.

Ivy was in the midst of her terrible twos and quite frankly it was disaster for all of them.

They decided on one of their favorite restaurants about an hour outside of London near the beautiful, green countryside. ***

It was a family-owned Italian establishment with outside seating on the patio. The tables were filled but Harry always managed to squeeze himself into a non-existent reservation with his charm (and wallet).

When they’re escorted onto the deck, Ivy had Harry hitched up on his hip and wriggles her into her wooden high-chair with little difficulty - she had just woken up from a nap and was in a seemingly okay mood.

Y/N notices a few pairs of eyes watching them from the table close to theirs but decided that she was just being paranoid. And if she brought it up to Harry she knows he’d immediately tell them to fuck off and mind their business.

They get Ivy settled with her favorite little sensory book and her plush baby doll ***, as they look at the menu, “I’m so hungry,” Y/N grumbles, unable to decide what she wants to eat, Ivy literally running her around all day with no time for refueling.

“Me too, y’didn’t let me finish my meal earlier,” Harry murmurs cheekily, looking at his wife over his menu with a raised eyebrow, “Guess I’ll just have to wait for dessert.”

“Baba’s asleep, she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow,” Harry tells his wife, trotting in their bedroom. He’s already stripping the shirt off his head and wriggling his running shorts down his narrow hips.

Y/N’s laying on the bed, too distracted by her romance novel to notice Harry’s actions - well until he yanks at her ankles until her bum skids towards the end of the bed, she lets out a surprise yelp at her husband’s strength.

He plucks the book from her hands and tosses it to the floor with a thump. His hands are hurriedly reaching to pull down her shorts and panties with impatience at having his wife bare before him.

“Someone’s a bit horny,” Y/N teases, raising her hips to let him slide them down before they join the book on the floor. He ducks down to bite at the soft skin of her hip bone, suckling a dark mark there in ownership.

“Have y’seen yourself, pet?” Harry replies lowly, unable to help himself as he dips down and swipes a long, languid lip up her center with no warning. It has her moaning and pushing herself into his mouth.

“We don’t have long, H. Need you in me,” His wife whines, pulling him up by his hair until he’s slipping his tongue right into her mouth, wasting no time to hike her hips up around his waist and pushing in with one strong, directive thrust.

Y/N blushes and darts her eyes back down to the menu, “If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you.”

Harry laughs, eyes wrinkling around the corners, “Y’know even when I’m not good, y’let me.”

It was very very true.

“Oops!” Ivy squeals when her doll falls to the ground. It was one of the new words she’s finally understood in context and it’s unbelievably cute to hear her high, little squeaky voice.

“S’alright, here you go bab,” Harry titters, reaching down to toss it back onto the table for his daughter. She looked so fucking adorable tonight in what Y/N had dressed her in a little Gucci jean jacket with matching jeans. ***

Ivy manages to keep herself pretty occupied until she needs a diaper change. The meals had just arrived, steaming hot and smelling like heaven, but Y/N slings their diaper bag over her shoulder and totes the baby off to the bathroom.

Harry watches them, like the protector he is until they make it to the bathroom safely. He can sense eyes on him (the same group Y/N thought was watching) but unlike his wife, Harry makes eye contact with the table who were staring directly at his wife and then him.

“Can I fuckin’ help you?” Harry asks bluntly, not hesitating to stare down every single person at the table. He didn't want anyone staring at them, staring at Y/N, staring at Ivy. He wanted to enjoy his dinner in peace with his family. He assumed they probably worked for him.

They avert their gaze from the intense man, acting nonchalantly and sipping at their glasses filled with wine as if they weren’t just staring at them. It makes Harry scoff loudly enough so that they can hear it.

When Y/N appears back with Ivy and attempts to plop her back into her seat, her limbs go wiggly and her eyebrow knits with refusal, letting out little kicks, “No mummy, no!”

“Baby, we’ve got to eat now. How ‘bout after we’re done?” Y/N hums in her daughter’s ear, attempting to steady the toddler’s legs to slide into the slots of the chair.

Y/N knew it was going to be a struggle since Y/N told Ivy she couldn’t have the big stuffed animal that was in the gift shop on the way to the bathroom.

“Mummy! Don’t wanna!” Ivy protests loudly, her face pinched with her terrible twos anger as she squirms and twists in her mother’s grip.

“S’okay, give her to me,” Harry tells his wife, taking Ivy in his lap. She smiles with deep dimples up at her father before going to reach her little fingers into his pasta. “No, Ivy. S’hot, it’s goin’ to burn you.”

Ivy pulls her brows together, decidedly not liking what her dad had to say, because she’s reaching out once again. “Ivy, daddy said ‘no’. Be a good girl and listen.”

“Mine.” Oh god, her favorite word at the moment.

“Ivy Elizabeth, s’not yours. S’daddy’s. Mummy ordered you chicken, which she very nicely cut up for you. You need to eat that, lovie,” Harry uses a bit of a firmer voice with the little girl, pulling her plate of cubed of food over.

“Here, bub,” Y/N takes a small piece, bringing it up to her daughter’s full lips. Only to be met with a hand batting it away until it’s being flung limply to the wood floor with a screech.

“No, want that,” Ivy huffs, once again reaching for her father’s steaming plate. She’s nearly close to getting her finger into the burning sauce so Harry has to scoot his chair out a bit so she can’t reach it anymore.

The parents give each other a knowing look because of what is surely about to come. The baby was struggling with being told ‘no’ as of late, as well as claiming nearly everything as ‘mine’. Tantrums were in their prime right now and they thought the pre-dinner nap would have helped.

Spoiler Alert: It doesn’t.

When Ivy realizes she’s no longer able to reach the food, she furrows her brow and pulls back her little fist, hitting at her father’s shoulder. It wasn’t often she tried to hit, likely because most times it landed her on the step for two minutes, but it’s like she knew they couldn’t do that here.

“Ivy,” Harry takes her small hands between his, “We do not hit, do you understand Daddy? S’not nice. If you can’t behave, you’re not getting ice cream before we go home.”

At that point, the little girl would normally calm down a bit and readjust because she really loved ice cream but it didn’t do anything to quell her anger tonight. She shakes her head, curly hair bouncing, before the tears start rolling.

“Should we just get this to go?” Y/N asks, knowing that the whole restaurant doesn’t want to hear the sobbing baby throwing a fit over not being able to dig her hands into her father’s dinner plate.

“Probably best,” Harry grunts when Ivy wriggles and twists in her father’s grip with a frustrated whine, “She’s not goin’ to settle.”

“Down, let me down!” Ivy demands against her father’s grip, like she’s the one running the show.

“Here, give her to me,” Y/N mutters, wrangling the toddler into a tight hold while Harry gets the waiter’s attention to get take away boxes and the check. He’s pulling out his wallet to slide out his black amex and put it on the table.

“Ivy, I’m going to put you down so I can get the diaper bag and your toys. Are you going to stay right next to mummy?” Y/N asks her daughter firmly, making sure her daughter’s little green eyes are meeting hers.

Ivy nods but as soon as her feet hit the solid ground, she lets out a giggle and dashes from beside her mother. She doesn’t get very far because she’s running straight into the legs of another patron and tumbling on her bum.

She’s not at all hurt but takes it as an advantage to throw herself onto the floor, screaming and tears - the whole dramatic show because she’s not getting her way and well....she’s a two year old - that’s all the reason she needs, right?

Harry’s in full dad mode now, “I’ll get her to the car. Y’got this, love?”

Y/N nods, sighing at the loss of their nice dinner as her daughter has all eyes directed on their family - the last thing she wanted to happen. But she just focuses on shoveling the still hot foot into the plastic containers to take home.

“S’enough of that, Ivy. This isn’t how we act, hmm?” Harry hums, pulling his daughter off the floor and into his arms - “What’s gotten into you, bug?”

Ivy sniffles, knuckling at her wet eyes, “Home, daddy.”

“We’re taking you home, don’t you worry,” Harry chuckles, smiling softly when she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, thumb finding her lips. His large palm came to rub at her back and bounce her lightly.

When Y/N finally gets everything together, one of the waitresses - an older woman, stops by the table, “How old is your daughter?”

Y/N smiles, “Just turned two a month ago.”

The grey lady has a kind, knowing grin on her face, “What an age, huh? She looks like a little replica of your husband.”

The girl laughs, they can’t go anywhere without hearing that from someone, “Oh, believe me. They have the same attitude too,” She jokes, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“I wish you two luck. Two is a very hard age, I have five kids of my own. Just appreciate it, even though the tantrums are a pain in the arse,” She says, patting Y/N on the shoulder before heading back to a table who was waiting on her.

---

Both the parents were frustrated, more so than they usually are with Ivy’s tantrums. They thought she’d simmer down once they’d gotten home but it had just revved up again when she realized she really wasn’t getting any ice cream.

“Shouldn’t have even promised her ice cream in the first place,” Y/N mutters with frustration as they stand near the staircase. Ivy sat on the step for two minutes in timeout, kicking her little feet against the marble.

“Right, because I knew she’d decide to have tantrums all night,” Harry shoots back, matching his wife’s tone. The screaming was echoing through the house, high-pitched and it just made you want to cover your ears from it.

Y/N rolls his eyes at him, motioning towards their daughter, “Well, this is your doing because you reminded her that she wasn’t getting it. You deal with it, I’m going to shower.”

“You’re not doing much to help anyways,” Harry hisses, their voices both low so that their daughter doesn’t hear - not like she would over the screaming match she’s having with herself.

They rarely fought to be honest. This wasn’t even a fight - really. It was hard raising a two year old and they were learning as they went along. The couple was good at communication and working through their problems most of the time.

“I’m not doing much to help?” Y/N asks in disbelief, “Then if I’m no help at all, why don’t you put her down for bed? You don’t need me, obviously.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, his hand gripping the railing with a hard grip, “Don’t go twistin’ my words, that’s not what I said. Now you’re just lookin’ for a fight.”

“Yeah, because on top of a fussy two year old - I want to deal with a childish husband. I’m surprised you're not on the stairs, cryin’ about ice cream too with how you’re acting,” Y/N laughs - the sound crawling under Harry’s skin with irritation at her fake carefree attitude when she’s just as annoyed as him.

“You’re being an even bigger brat than our daughter right now,” Harry tells her, trying to keep his voice at a low volume but it comes out louder than intended. He felt himself straighten up and kept direct eye contact with his wife.

Y/N’s lips form into a tight line before gritting out, “Do not raise your voice at me. We agreed that no matter how frustrated we got we wouldn’t do that in front of our daughter.”

“Then don’t act so immature, ever think of tha’?” Harry bites, hating the he hears his work voice being directed at his wife when he never wants that.

“How am I being immature? You promised her something that she didn’t get, then reminded her that she’s not getting it. I’m allowed to be frustrated with you!” Y/N whisper-shouts, Ivy is now distracted by taking her little shoes off and watching them tumble down the stairs.

“I have so many better things I could be doing right now than stand here and fight with you over our daughter having a stupid tantrum. I’ll be in my office,” Harry replies, because when he doesn’t know what to do and refuses to admit he’s wrong - he falls back to his best excuse, work.

And he automatically regrets it when he sees a flash of hurt cross his wife’s face. Harry wants to swallow back those words and wrap his wife up into a hug. Never wanting to make her feel like his work is worth more of his time.

Deep down, they both know she knows that it’s not the truth but in the midst of the fight it doesn’t sting any less. He opens his mouth to apologize, to tell her that he’d rather put their daughter to bed together any night than be in his office.

But he can tell she’s already past the point of being pissed when she replies calmly, “I’ll put our baby to bed. Go work on whatever is more important than us, Mr. Styles.”

Harry wants to reach out and grab at her arm, tug her into his chest, and murmur in her hair how much he loves her more than anything. He said that because he knows it’s hurtful and it’s his only way to win an argument with her.

However, she’s moving up the stairs, scooping the somewhat calmed down baby into her arms and trudging up without another look at her still brooding husband.

Harry hears Ivy shout back down the stairs, “Daddy, come on!”

He hears his wife tell his daughter, “Daddy’s too busy with work, Ivy. S’just mummy.”

But that has Harry absolutely fuming, storming up the stairs after then, “Do not make it seem like I’m ever too busy for my daughter. That’s completely uncalled for, Y/N.”

Y/N doesn’t turn back to face him, instead keeps walking, and says with a monotone voice, “Oh, but you just said you had better things to be doing than dealing with your family. So go take care of your work, hot shot. I’ll take care of our daughter.”

“Why are you making it seem like I put my work before Ivy? I’ve literally never let that happen and you know that. You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion because Ivy’s been having tantrums and you can’t put on your big girl pants and deal with them.”

That’s when Y/N spins around on her heel, letting Ivy down and encouraging her to go play in her room for a little before bedtime. Her face is turning red - which rarely happens unless they’re really about to get in an argument.

“Big girl pants? Really, I’m at home dealing with her tantrums twenty-four seven. You get to come home from work and only deal with it half on the time. Do not act like you know how stressful it is to stay at home with a toddler in their terrible twos all day.”

“Do not act like it’s harder than running a multi-billion pound business,” Harry scoffs, his voice becoming lower with frustration with an argument that was going nowhere. He had a cocky lift to his voice that made her want to scream.

“Oh, because it’s so difficult half the time? Last week, you got to go on your private jet to Paris for three days for business aka dinner and golfing while I sat at home alone!” Y/N raises her voice, angry tears forming over her lids.

“Sat in our 35 million pound house with a pool, playground, plenty of shops in town, unlimited money doesn’t sound like a hardship, love,” Harry replies, jaw clenching but his fingers itching to brush the tears away.

“You know what? It’s Sunday tomorrow. I’m going out. You watch her for the whole fucking day and see how easy it is. For now, enjoy the guest room,” Y/N spits out, storming down the hall to Ivy’s room to get her ready for bed.

“With pleasure,” He tells her, retreating back into his office and slamming the door. He wasn’t a fucking inadequate father.

He never put work before his family. He knew it wasn’t easy being at home and as soon as he sat his arse in his leather chair - he realized what a douchebag he was being to his stressed out wife.

Harry didn’t want to sleep in the guest room, he wanted to be spooned up next to his wife, whispering apologies for letting the stress of the week get to him. Remind her what an amazing partner and mum she is to him. How lucky he is.

The issue was - Harry had pride issues. He wasn’t one to admit defeat even when he should. He thrived on challenges so he was eager to show his wife that he’d have no problem taking on his terrible twos daughter.

He sneaks into his daughter’s room after she’s fast asleep in her crib, checking on her to make sure she’s okay before hesitantly entering their bedroom where his wife is fast asleep but a pile of clean clothes for him on the floor tells him she was serious about him sleeping in the guest room.

It was torture, not being able to be in the same bed as his wife. The love of his life. He thought about it multiple times - going in and groveling but his stubborn brain wouldn’t allow it. After such a long week, he was looking forward to sleeping in and his head hit the pillow in no time.

“Rise and shine,” His wife's voice wakes him up, it wasn’t with her normally cheery tone but with the same irritation as the night before. She definitely hadn’t magically forgiven him yet - dammit. Her voice is nearly drowned out by a fussy curly-haired baby.

“Wha’s wrong?” Harry grunts, sitting up to see Ivy still in her pajamas with sheet wrinkles across her face. Skin pink and warm from her nice, peaceful sleep.

However, she decided to wake up today with a massive chip on her shoulder.

“Ivy’s upset because she can’t find her ballerina doll,” Y/N replies.

Harry notices she is already fully dressed *** and made up for the day. “Might want to get up and help her find it. I’m heading out like we agreed on.”

“Fine,” Harry replies with a tight lip, rubbing his eyes as he’s still half asleep. “Y’look pretty.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, leaning over to kiss Ivy on the forehead, “I’ll see you later bug, I love you.”

Ivy looks at her mother in betrayal as she leaves Harry to manage their little ball of fury. He tries to tug her in for a big, warm hug but she shrieks and screams at her father, “Ballerina!”

“Ssh, okay. We’ll go look for y’ballerina, dove. No need to yell, s’too early,” Harry grumbles, sitting up and automatically being pulled by the hand off the bed to search for this doll that could be anywhere in this thousands upon thousands of square foot home.

After extensive searches, Harry realizes that he’d left it on the roof of the car when he was tucking her into her carseat last night. The cute little plush doll is now mostly likely roadkill on the country stretch.

“Ivy, y’literally got a whole room dedicated to stuffed animals and dolls. Let’s go pick somethin’ from there, yes?” Harry tries, his daughter’s arms crossed and glaring at Harry like he had just killed her hopes and dreams.

“No! No!” The toddler absolutely wails, plopping her little diaper-clad bum on the ground before kicking her feet against the marble. She had herself worked up until her cheeks were cherry red and tears were staining her shirt.

Harry couldn’t lie - he’d only been watching her for about two hours and he was starting to feel anxiety creep up in his throat over what to do. It wasn’t that he couldn’t parent her, but it was a lot of crying and he hated seeing her upset.

“Why don’t we go eat some breakfast? Does that sound good, lovie?” Harry offers hopefully, having to contain a laugh at how much she looks like him when he’s angry. The little crease between her eyes, the green in her eyes sparkling a little darker than usual.

Her eyes peek up at her father, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry sighs in relief, scrubbing at hand down his face, taking her into the kitchen, strapping her in the highchair before whipping up some cheesy eggs for her.

When he puts down the plate in front of her, he has to say she’s surprised when she slaps it off the tray and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. “No, want mummy’s breakfast.”

Her father looks at her with a comically bewildered expression before turning on his dad voice, “We do not throw things on the ground. Do you understand me, Ivy Elizabeth?”

Her full little lips are drawn into a tight pout as she tosses her baby fork on the ground to join the still warm eggs in a heap.

“Mummy’s breakfast.”

The scolding goes in one ear and out the other, she doesn’t acknowledge her father but continues on her demands.

He caves after trying to no avail to decipher what ‘mummy’s breakfast’ means.

Ivy threw her eggs on the ground. She’s demanding mummy’s breakfast.

She’s hated eggs for the past two weeks now. Vanilla yogurt with diced strawberries and blueberries in her red baby bowl.

He does as she says, arranges a nice little bowl of yogurt with the fruit. He couldn’t find the red bowl so he substituted for a blue one.

It results in the yogurt also being smacked to the ground.

She threw that on the ground too.

Did you put it in a red bowl?

I couldn’t find it, just put it in a blue bowl

She only wants to eat breakfast out of red bowls right now

Harry groans, he didn’t know his daughter was this difficult about breakfast time. He was usually gone by the time she’d woken up for the day. Y/N usually let him sleep in a bit on the weekends until ten or so.

After digging for the specific red bowl, doing up her breakfast again - Ivy happily begins eating until it drips down her sleep clothes, rubbed all over her cheeks, and it even manages up in her tangled locks.

“S’that just so yummy, Vee?” Harry hums after she’s finished. “Looks like it’s bath time.”

He really should have guessed at this point when she shakes her head and squeaks, “No!”

“Yes, s’bathtime,” Harry says sternly, traipsing upstairs with the wriggling toddler who is doing everything in her power to fight against her father’s hold.

“No, no, no. Ballerina,” Ivy brings it up again, making it a near impossible task for Harry to wrangle her out of her clothes and diaper.

While he’s running the bath, she darts from the bathroom and through the hallways, right towards the grand staircase where the baby gate isn’t closed. Harry really really didn’t want to yell at his daughter but she could seriously get hurt.

“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, if you don’t get your little bum over to Daddy right now, you’re going on the step and y’not having playtime at all,” Harry orders loudly, but breathing a sigh of relief when his daughter skids in her tracks to a halt.

The little girl turns on her heels, eyes wide in fright at her dad’s raised voice - which rarely ever happened unless she really wasn’t listening. She begins to cry but not in her now typical anger-induced haze but in a legitimate sad wail.

His heart aches as his daughter toddles obediently back over to him with her little head hung low in regret, “Daddy, hold me?”

Harry can’t deny her so he scoops her up into the crook of his arm, “M’sorry for yellin’, bug. But y’need to be good for Daddy? You could have gotten really hurt and that would have made Daddy sad, okay?”

Her eyes are watery as she looks up at him, her hand curling around his neck before burying her still yogurt-sticky face into his skin, hiccuping with sad whines, “Sad Daddy.”

“Mhm, now are you going to be nice and get a bath f’me? Y’dirty, bubby,” Harry smiles down at her to brighten back up her mood and it works because her dimples pop out of her cheeks and she flashes her small blocky baby teeth.

Ivy surprisingly does well in the bathtub, allowing her father to get her all cleaned up until she accidentally opens her eyes and gets baby soap in them, it’s another round of tears that cannot be controlled.

Harry totes the sobbing toddler into a cute little Moschino onesie and brings her into their bedroom. He’s so fucking exhausted and it was barely noon. His stress level was near a hundred as he couldn’t keep her from being pissed off for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Luckily, it seems like the screaming and crying for the last how many hours had taken a toll on her because as soon as she sprawled on her stomach on Harry’s chest, she’s out like a light. The cutest small snores coming from her as she smacks her lips together while she dreams.

He gives her a few minutes to fall into a deeper sleep before tiptoeing her into her nursery and laying her very carefully into her crib. She doesn’t wake, just whimpers softly and turns on her side, away from her father.

When he’s sure she’ll be okay, he goes back into their bedroom, and well...he just breathes. He didn’t realize how high his anxiety had been up to this point and his whole morning had been nothing but trying to get his daughter calm. He didn’t even have one moment to think about himself.

It really wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Y/N being a stay at home mum - of course, he did. He already knew how bloody amazing and strong she was as a person, he didn’t need this to prove what he already knew. It was his stubbornness to not decline a challenge and they both knew that was the case.

Y/N really didn’t think that Harry doubted her abilities. He nearly spent most of his days telling her how proud he was of her and her abilities as a partner and mum. It doesn’t mean it didn’t sting when he brought up his job compared to hers.

Harry’s in his own world of thoughts that he doesn’t notice a figure leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, “You got everything under control, H?”

His eyes darted up to meet his wife’s, “Not really. She’s a little terror,” He jokes (kind of).

“It’s easy compared to your job, right?” Y/N asks but it’s obviously rhetorical. She drops a few shopping bags on the floor before leaning down to unstrap her high heels, kicking them off along with throwing off the blazer to the floor.

“I never said your job was easy. Y’puttin’ words in my mouth,” Harry argues, sitting up straight and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, you’re right. It’s just not as hard as your job,” Y/N huffs, unbuttoning the tight jeans and shucking them off her thighs. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing to him right now, his mouth nearly watering when her thighs jiggle a bit.

“You’re right, it’s not as hard as my job,” Harry replies, studying his wife’s face when she looks up in surprise - that he was really going to take the fight that far.

“Wow, you re-”

“It’s not as hard as my job, it’s harder,” Harry murmurs, reaching out to pull his wife to stand between his legs, her looking down at him with her hands on his shoulders. “

What I’m doin’ is nothin’ compared to your job. Y’raising our little baby, shaping her into a good person, spending every moment of y’day with her, giving up a lot of who you are for her. That’s more difficult than what I do any day.”

“Har-”

“M’sorry, lovie. Y’know I think you’re the most amazing mum and wife. You do everything for the baba and I. I shouldn’t have taken my anger from my week out on you yesterday and then said the things that I did,” Harry apologizes, his face sincere and open as he leans forward to nuzzle at his wife’s stomach.

When her hands come to run through his unruly locks, he knows he’s forgiven, “I appreciate how hard you work too. I really do, H. You’re the best husband and daddy to Ivy we could ask for. I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you as well.”

“Do you ever feel like I put work before you or Ivy?” Harry asks softly against her thin tank top, his hands come to massage at her full hips. There was a hint of insecurity in his tone that made Y/N’s heart sink a bit.

“No, I really don’t. I was just...I was just upset and I knew that would upset you. I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N murmurs softly, leaning down to kiss at the top of his head.

“Y’going to let me show you how sorry I am, how good of a wife and mum you are?” Harry drawls, his hands going to tug up the fabric of her top and humming appreciatively when she lifts her arms to let him do so.

“Yeah, remind why I married your crabby ass,” Y/N teases playfully, reaching behind herself to let her bra fall down to the crooks of her elbows before tossing it to the floor with everything else. As she’s doing that, Harry takes it upon himself to shimmy off her panties.

“Y’sayin’ you just married me ‘cause I fuck you good?” Harry grunts, standing up suddenly and pulling her up into his arms until her legs are wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Mmm, mostly. Also for your bank account was pretty good-looking too,” She lies blatantly but he still rewards her with a bruising kiss to her lips as he backs her against the wall so he can use one hand to tug down his running shorts.

“I’d still have married you, best decision I’ve ever made,” Harry says, sobering up from their playfulness. He slows down to be careful as he slides up into her warm heat, her head falling back with a thud against the wall.

“Harry,” She moans approvingly, heels of her feet digging into his backside to goad him into moving faster, “Right there.”

“So bloody in love with you. Please tell me y’know that baby, c’mon, tell me,” Harry begs, leaning down to smear kisses against her collarbone.

“I know, H. You’re so good to me, I love you,” Y/N whines and Harry knows that whine like the back of his hand, she needs more. He reaches down to rub tight, rough circles against her swollen bud until she’s tensing and coming.

“You feel so good, every single time. Don’t know how you do it, s’like you were made just for me,” Harry chokes out, stuttering and coming with his lips suckling a deep spot onto her breast as he rides it out.

After they redress and are cuddled on the bed, murmuring sweet little apologizes and affirmations of love, they interrupted by an angry squeak from the baby monitor - signaling their daughter’s woken up.

“Ballerina!”

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besotted-eros · 3 years

Text

Obsessed!Eren Headcanons+

Genre: SFW Headcanons + NSFW scene under cut

Summary: Eren being helplessly in love with you, and the night where he could show you just how bad.

Content: Bit of toxic jealousy, obsessive thoughts, losing virginity, romance,established relationship,oral (female receiving), unprotected sex

AN: Take some fluff, take some angst, take some smut and don't say I don't feed you

Eren loves so deeply, so passionately, so possessively. From the moment his heart decides on you, you are twisted in him. Yours is the first name on his lips in the morning, whether he wakes up beside you, or in a barracks beside Armin. Or in a jail cell alone. He thinks of you obsessively, weaving you into everything he does.

He used to follow you, sorting his schedule by yours. You would find him by your door, by the table you liked to read at, waiting for you expectantly.

It's almost scary sometimes. He makes your breath falter with his intensity, his need for you. You know he means it that he'll go mad if he ever loses you.

He keeps a note you wrote him in the inner pocket of his jacket. It doesn't say much, a quick entreatment to sleep and eat, your name signed with love. When he salutes his fist rests over it. He pledges to more than the scouts. It remains there long after his last salute.

He steals your hair ties, often reaching up to touch his hair when your absence gets too much. When his hair is down, falling below his shoulders like a chestnut curtain, he keeps it around his wrist. When he loses himself in the fog of memories that don't belong to him, he snaps it. It reminds him of the way you'd tap the back of his hand, pulling him back into the world of the living. You are his anchor.

He refuses to keep his hands off you in public, even if it gets him in trouble. No amount of scolding from Levi will make him stop touching your waist as you pass by during training, or pulling you in for a kiss before zipping away. Your friends become use to it, the way Eren will pull you against him when you sit together, or move you into his lap. His hands will rest on your hips, rub your shoulders. But he loves holding your hand above all. It's the way the world knows you are tied. Bound.

There are only a few people allowed to touch you. Mikasa, Armin. Sasha on good days. One time Jean attempted to throw a casual arm around you as you spoke, and was quickly thrown to the ground. Yes, Eren and Jean fought. But this time was different. Eren spat in his face, baring his teeth as he delivering a bone crunching punch. "Don't. Fucking. Touch her." He growled, sounding more animal than man. He never apologised for that. You were careful to keep your space from other men too.

When you're apart he is hollow. Listless. He imagines what you're doing, if you're safe. If you're missing him. He pictures you in trouble without him, and it stirs him into action, to find you faster. To wrap you in his arms, the only place you'll ever truly be safe.

When you reunite, it brings him to tears. They quiver in the corners of his verdant eyes as he tenderly cradles you, large hands stroking through your hair. He buries his face in you so you won't see them. And he says your name. Over and over. Like a chant. Like a prayer. Like a thank you.

There is one time that those tears fall. It is when he takes you, when he gives himself to you.

The evening had been perfect, ignoring the upcoming trip to Marley that weighed heavily on all minds. You didn't want to think about that, instead focusing on the spiced wine that Levi had quietly pushed into your hands while Hange grinned from behind him. And the way Eren traced circles on your knee, his normal stoic face softened into a half smile.

You snuck away from your friends, leaving Connie and Sasha bellowing a war song while Mikasa tried to force Sasha's shirt back on. You had tapped his wrist, and soon you were out of the mess hall, holding onto each other as you stumbled into the moonlight. You kissed, soft and repeated, your lips unbearably supple under his. Eren wondered if the butterflies would ever fade as your head leaned against his shoulder. He never wanted them to. He wanted to love you like he was free falling from a wall, with his heart in his throat and life bursting from every pore.

Soon you found yourself at the door to the room you shared with Mikasa and Sasha. This is where you would usually part, with him kissing your forehead goodnight. He would quell his thoughts of you in the shower later, your name hot on his tongue as the cool water cascaded over his firm body.

But this time you pulled him in.

When he laid you on the bed, your soft hair splayed across the over the pillow like a sunburst, his heart stopped. He had seen this before. He had dreamt it. There was no god to Eren, no angels. But in that moment he knew he had found someone to worship.

But nothing could have prepared him for how it felt. Lips meeting like crashing waves, the soft gasps that left your throat as his hands found parts of you no one else would ever touch. He wanted to run his fingers across every inch, to discover you like a new world. Here, the dip of your hips. There they smooth into your legs, here into your ass where the flesh was soft and pliable under his fingers. His thumb brushed across your lips, and when you took into your mouth, tongue tracing the pad of it, he groaned.

He could have ruined you right then and there. But he held back.

Eren memorized you, the feel of your chest against his and the way you kissed his collarbone until it was a field of blooming bruises. Tomorrow he would wear his shirt unbuttoned, wearing your love like a medal. He returned the favour in tenfold, leaving blossoms of soft purple across your neck. They were rewards for every time you touched him. How good it felt. Eren had never felt this good. Soon your chest was littered with them, his mouth hot and desperate on your breasts. Here he seemed to say. I have touched you here, and here. I loved you there, and there.

You spoke his name into the night like a prayer. The want in it, the need of him. It twisted his stomach into a rosary as he held your face and kissed you like a blessing. He liked how your mouth formed him, called him forth into the world. He wanted more of that.

So he kissed his way down, teeth sneaking out every once in a while to nip at your supple skin. You found where you wanted him most, where you throbbed with want. You were so delicate under his fingers as he dipped them into you, walls fluttering as your toes curled. Your hands found his hair, encouraging him further as his tongue slid against your clit, making you buck.

He could do this to you. He could make you putty under his fingers. This strong, demanding woman who slayed those who threatened her, reduced to whimpering his name.

His. Eren was making you his. He was defiling you in the softest of ways, pressing your legs open, your slick slit parting for him. He dragged his tongue up, down, up again to circle your throbbing clit. When you looked down at him, his eyes were glazed green glass, your wetness making his lips shine. He pulled his fingers out, holding the soaked fingers towards you. Obediently you took them into your mouth, and he gasped against your warmth, sucking at your clit in response and making you throw your head back. Your throat exposed, vulnerable and ridden with angry bruises.

He couldn't handle it. His shaft was hard against the bed as he pressed into it, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And then you pulled up, tugging his long hair. You licked yourself off his lips, tasting how you coated his tongue. Your legs were still spread, exposed for him. Eren angled himself, his dripping head aligned with your wet entrance, while he kissed his love into you.

"Please," you asked, it was all Eren needed.

And then you were connected. His fingers found yours, and you held tightly to his hand as hips rocked against yours. Your eyes were closed, pinched tightly at the sensation of pleasure and pain radiating from the warmth between your legs. He was big. He was so big.

Eren whispered your name.

"Look at me. Look at me while we do this." He murmured, his nose tracing your cheek as he peppered soft kisses on your jaw.

You did, meeting his green gaze. His mouth opened, a kick of pleasure making his toes curl as he adored you. The way you stared up at him, a look he would never see you give another. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, breasts bouncing as his body picked up speed. He was desperate. He was aching. He had pictured you like this for so long, but his dreams held no candle to the way your walls gripped him.

"Never. Never let another man touch you." He panted, his heart soaring as you nodded, nails digging into his shoulder as you held on to him, feeling him rail into you. "Be mine. Be forever mine. Please y/n..." His voice broke as he picked you up from the bed, needing to feel even closer. Even tighter. Your legs wrapped around him in response as your moans hit a fervored pitch. He gripped your thighs, using them to bounce you up and down his veiny shaft, using you to milk him. Eren sat back, letting the moonlight bathe your back as your hair stuck to your skin, mingling with his.

"I love you." He said. It cut through your incoherent moans, your whimpers of satisfaction. You pulled back to rest your forehead against his, letting yourself stare at him. To be seen by him. He could have done anything to look at you forever, to live his world only through your eyes.

"I love you too, 'ren." You whispered, and it pushed him over the edge. He slammed you back into the bed, load whines ripping from his throat as his hips snapped against yours over and over. You. You. You. You invaded his every sense, his every particle. You were Eren's everything.

When he came, it was like a dam breaking. Flooding you, making you cream around him. You overflowed with him, and he was at once addicted to the sensation. You cried out with him, your moans mingling as his hot mouth overtook yours. His cheeks were wet. He shook as you kissed, collapsing against you. His body was hot and muscular, the scratches you left on his back steaming slightly.

You lay there for peaceful moments, pressing your face into the top of his head while he listened to your heartbeat. He would do anything to ensure that it would never stop. He was going to do anything to ensure it never stopped.

Even if that meant he wouldn't always be there to hear it.

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