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#however goddamn what i would give to be this man
sam24 · 3 months
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Man on a Mission
Summary: Apparently, someone called Bucky's girl a whore. He has now made it his life's mission to find out who.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
*****
Bucky sat at the kitchen island, eyes narrowed, leg bouncing, and the same scene from last night replaying in his head.
Bucky drew random patterns on your bare shoulder, his nose buried into your hair. You were being quieter than usual, but he knew you were awake as he could feel your hands fidgeting.
He didn’t want to press you to tell him about it, so he settled on making you feel as loved as possible, pressing kisses into your hair.
Suddenly, you broke the silence, taking Bucky by surprise.
“Buck . . . do you think I’m a whore?”
“Wha-” Bucky lifted his head immediately, trying to look at you. But you hid your face in your hands, turning away from him.
“God don’t look at me. Fuck, this is so embarrassing,” You groaned into your hands. “Forget I said that.”
“No, honey, look at me please,” Bucky gently pulled your hands down, cradling your face. “Who called you that?”
“No, no, no one,” You shook your head frantically. “I’m sorry, just forget I said anything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“No, sweetheart, who- okay we’ll get back to that later. But you are not a whore, okay? No woman deserves to be called that in the first place. Who-”
“No, no one. I was just . . . I just randomly thought of it.”
Bucky wasn’t convinced, but he let it slide.
For now.
“Well, I don’t want you thinking these things about yourself.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Okay?”
You nodded, seeming relieved and a little surprised that he dropped it that easily.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
It was now the next morning, and you were at the gym with Natasha, which gave Bucky the perfect opportunity to figure out who to murder.
Steve walked into the kitchen with Sam trailing behind.
“Morning Buck.” Steve greeted. His head stuck into the fridge, trying to look past the shit ton amount of edible cookie dough you had made a couple days earlier.
“How come you didn’t come run with us, you lazy fat ass.” Sam teased, leaning on the island.
“Didn’t feel like it.” Bucky narrowed his eyes.
Suspect 1: Sam Wilson, The Most Annoying Bird Alive
Sam had a tendency to poke fun at people, but some might not take it as well as others. For example, when a barista burst out in tears last week when Sam joked about her being “all over the place” with all the orders coming in. (He came in with flowers the next day)
Bucky wondered if Sam had said something that was supposed to be funny, but you didn’t think it was and got upset.
A part of Bucky wanted to settle on Sam so he had an excuse to beat him up, but the more rational side of him realized that you had gone on one too many missions with him to think he was being serious about anything he said.
Tony then came in, holding a bunch of empty coffee mugs in his hand, practically throwing them into the sink.
“Bruce said my mugs were ‘taking up too much room’ in the lab,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Well why doesn’t he try being the goddamn genius backbone of this team.”
Bucky stared at him intently.
Suspect 2: Tony Stark, The Dick Who Can’t Set His Metal Rock Music Lower Than 98
Tony had a tendency to snap easily, especially when he was low on sleep (which was basically all the time). Everyone usually steered clear of Tony when he was moody, because he would most definitely say the meanest things, but not really mean any of it.
Bucky tried to think if it was logical that Tony would snap at you and say something. However, he came to the conclusion that even if Tony had said something, you had known him for too long to take his sleep-deprived words to heart.
“What are you looking at, Winter Schnitzel?” Tony challenged, noticing Bucky staring at him.
“Nothing.” Bucky replied, his stare shifting over to his best friend, who was grinning in amusement, but still trying to find something to eat that wouldn’t give him diabetes.
Suspect 3: Steve Rog-
Bucky stopped himself, almost laughing at himself for thinking Steve would ever call a woman a whore.
Even though you always kept the fridge full of random items you would make, Steve would never say a single bad thing about you.
For now, Bucky was stuck.
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6 hours later, and Bucky was still stuck.
You and Peter were out (God knows where), which was another perfect chance for Bucky to think.
But the problem was he couldn’t think of anyone.
Everyone in the compound adored you, so Bucky couldn’t figure out who the hell would deliberately say something to make you upset.
He dragged his shoes across the floor, cursing Steve in his head for making him go on a “stroll” because he apparently looked “pent-up”.
There was no way in hell Bucky would walk around outside, so he opted to take a walk inside, using Mother Steve’s demand to his advantage to scout out potential targets.
He halfheartedly glanced around the floor, stopping when his gaze landed on you.
He immediately grinned, not caring about the fact he probably looked crazy, and started his way over to where you were.
You were talking to someone with a bag in your hand. Bucky remembered you saying something about picking up a dress from the store for your friend. Peter was next to you, and for some reason, puffing his chest out?
But, as Bucky got closer, he realized you were talking to Jacob, the little dickwad who couldn’t take no for an answer,
“How many times do I have to tell you? Get out of my way. I’m trying to get this to someone.” Bucky heard you snap, tuning in with his enhanced hearing.
Bucky stopped, trying to assess the situation and figure out if you would appreciate him stepping in or not.
He knew you didn’t need anyone to stand up for you, but his overprotective side rippled through his body, his jaw clenching and fists balling.
“Baby, stop acting- “Jacob was cut off with a sharp slap.
The little bastard was taken by complete shock.
Meanwhile, Peter was still trying to look as intimidating as possible.
“Jacob, what the hell is your problem? I’ve told you to leave me alone more times than I can count. How fucking thick is your skull?”
Jacob was about to reply, with probably something bitchy, but he caught sight of Bucky in the corner with the most murderous glare and stopped himself.
He instead looked down and stepped to the side, giving you and Peter room to go.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Beat it.” Peter growled in the most non-threatening way possible as you two left, giving Bucky the perfect chance to slide in before Jacob could hightail out of there.
“Barnes.” Jacob greeted, clearing his throat.
“Callaway.” Bucky’s blood boiled at how differently he treated other men than how he treated women. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to respect a lady?”
Before Jacob could reply, his equally dumb friend, Brody, walked past the two men.
“Damn, Jake. Barnes finally here to beat you up for calling his girl a whore?”
Bucky and Jacob both stared at Brody.
Jacob looked sickly pale, and Bucky looked calmly terrifying. Clear sign he was fucking enraged.
“Oh shit-” Brody finally put the pieces together, practically sprinting away.
Bucky turned back to face a petrified looking Jacob.
“So,” Bucky reached out, fixing Jacob’s tie and smoothing down his collar. “It was you, huh?”
Jacob tensed under Bucky’s touch.
“Chill pal, I just wanna talk.”
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A bruised cheek, wet underwear, and hurt ego later, Jacob’s talk with Bucky was over.
Bucky threw his feet up on the ottoman, but not before telling Friday to make sure Jacob was apologizing to you, as instructed by Bucky himself.
He patiently waited for you on the couch, a wide grin appearing on his face as you walked in and cuddled up next to Bucky, but not without pressing a kiss to his lips first.
Halfway through the movie, you turned to look at Bucky.
“Thank you,” You smiled.
“For what, doll?”
You turned back to face the movie, a smile playing at your lips. “C’mon. I know that was you. He would never apologize on his own will.”
Bucky laughed, turning you around once again to pepper kisses all over your face.
“I love you, my little smartass.”
“I love you too, pops.”
Mission accomplished.
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sweetestdesire · 16 days
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LONELY HOURS
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WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.
PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes misses Fem!Reader while he’s away on a roadie.
It was simple, really. Jack was going to get broken up with for calling Y/N at this hour, especially since he knew she had an exam in the morning. She shouldn't pick up, and she wouldn’t, or so she told herself at least. But there was a lingering voice in the back of her head nagging at her to just pick up already. So she did, and almost as though he could see it, he pointed out the scowl on her face before she could even yell at him.
"Don’t be mad.” Jack started. It was a pointless statement considering she already was mad, but she decided to indulge him anyway, tucking her phone between her cheek and shoulder as she rolled onto her back and stared at her ceiling.
There were no words to describe how awful Y/N felt without having Jack with her while he was at away games. The struggle of not being physically there with him only grew worse as time went on. His absence didn’t render her from living her life normally, she just missed her man. It was in the night that she felt the worst because that was when she realized she was missing a piece of her. There was nothing to distract her at night except the thoughts that didn’t stray from Jack.
The long-distance calls and facetime at ungodly hours were the new consistency while Jack was on the road. It was painful. The bedsheets were cold and bare; the coffee didn’t taste the same without him drinking it beside her every morning, and she wasn’t used to sleeping alone.
It’s been two days since Jack has been away for this game, but it felt like a lot more. It was sick, really, how much Y/N missed him in a mere forty-eight hours. She felt like a romcom couple in their honeymoon stage, and it made her double consider breaking up with him, but perhaps she could admit it was sweet, too. Jack didn’t just want to hear her voice before he fell asleep, he wanted to hear a smile in it, a smile he elicited from her himself.
"Alright.” Y/N huffed. "Give me one reason not to be mad."
"Same reason you picked up on the first ring.” Jack said through a smirk, and she could practically see the way he swept a hand through his locks, and her hand almost reached out as if to sweep through them herself. It was second nature by now.
"Jack, I’m going to hang up now and go back to sleep. Goodnight.” Y/N stated flatly, but he grinned to himself as he laid one arm behind his head, staring up at his own ceiling with a giddy little grin. Phone calls with her tended to have that effect on him.
"At least tell me what you're wearing first.” Jack insisted, and she scowled, letting out a sharp breath of frustration. The remaining shreds of her sanity were intact solely because there was a lovable part to him underneath all the smug and cocky nature. She just had to do a bit of digging.
"You are unbelievable.” Y/N scoffed. "Stop being horny, it's three in the goddamn morning.”
"Not for that.” Jack pouted, cutting her off. She hated that the slight lilt in his voice, borderline a whine, made her want to pinch his cheeks through the phone. "I just want to picture how you look so I can imagine my pillow as you when I cuddle it." He insisted.
"I’m charmed, truly.” Y/N said flatly. Truth be told, she was slightly awed that he'd do that. It was endearing in its own lovesick, corny, sappy little way; much like he was. However, she wanted to sleep, and he wasn’t helping right now.
"Knew you would be. I’ve been stealing hearts since way back in the day.” Jack said proudly. He most definitely stole hearts, too. She always caught the subtle stares and looks of awe when she walked beside him, and maybe if she didn't value the law, she’d do a lot more than glare at the girls shamelessly ogling her boyfriend, but he didn’t seem to fixate on the stares, anyway. He seemed to fixate on only one in particular.
"Jack, I need to go back to sleep.” Y/N huffed, and he huffed right back. The pillow he hugged to his chest smelled nothing like her, but it was the best he could do to replicate the weight of her in his arms. And he needed the weight, he couldn’t help it. He just slept better that way.
"You can go back to sleep after you tell me what you're wearing."
"A shirt and some pants.” Y/N said simply. He groaned, lips curling into a deeper pout.
"C'mon, give me a little more detail than that, baby.” Jack whined. "I’m trying to paint a picture here."
"Are you sure you're not horny? Jack, if you have a hand shoved in your boxers right now, so help me God.”
"I’m not horny.” Jack grumbled. "I promise, but I might be if you keep yelling at me.” He added with a smugness in his tone that made her heavily debate pressing the end call button. And the block one, too. "You’re hot when you're mad.” He winked, even if he knew she couldn’t see it. It just made him feel closer to her that way, treating the distance like it wasn’t distance. Even if he was coming back tomorrow evening, anyway.
“Thanks. You’re hot never.” Y/N said dryly, and he gasped dramatically.
"We both know that you're a liar. But can't I at least know if the shirt is mine? It’ll help me sleep better tonight.” Jack insisted. And he was quite the handful, but all things considered, she thought his hand in hers was what kept the world on its axis for her on most days.
"That’ll cost you, you know.” Y/N finally broke, smiling into the darkness of her room. And despite the way she was talking on the phone with her boyfriend at nearly three in the morning despite having an exam in a few hours, he still had a knack for landing himself exceptions when it came to her.
Jack grinned to himself when he heard the smile through her words because he could sense it all, every little detail about her. He had it mapped out, and there was nothing better than exploring the depths of her each day.
"How much are we talking?" He offered seriously, and even if his mission was accomplished, and he could certainly hear the smile in her voice, Jack wasn’t ready to hang up yet.
"You wouldn’t be able to afford it.” Y/N chuckled. If she pressed the phone hard enough to hear his voice better and shut her eyes, she almost could feel him next to her. It left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth somehow, to think how she couldn’t witness the pure bliss on his face firsthand and forced to be satisfied by stories on phone calls or if she was lucky, facetime.
"I’ll take out a loan. Is it the blue one? You know I love the blue one on you.”
"Goodnight, Jack.” Y/N cut him off firmly, and he pouted, but a twinge of fondness tingled through his heart. "I love you.” She added softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow."
“Alright, alright. Goodnight, baby. I love you, too.” Jack conceded, his words sulky. “I wish you were here with me.”
Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but only managed to let out a long sigh at his confession. Her hand found its way to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to contain all of the feelings inside. It’s only been two days, but it already felt like forever since the last time she saw his face. “I wish I was there with you, too.”
Y/N could hear clearly the smile on his chuckle and she closed her eyes to form an image of him smiling. It brought her a great amount of comfort to know that he felt the same, that he yearned to be with her, too. A wide smile formed on her lips and this time, she didn’t try to fight it.
“Goodnight, pretty girl.” Jack said with one of many cheesy nicknames he had on his sleeve for her. She grinned at the name, still not fathoming upon her discovery that he was one cheesy motherfucker. “Oh, by the way, make sure you wear the blue shirt when I see you tomorrow."
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tcfactory · 4 months
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Since my brain has been full of SVSSS brainrot lately:
I want a fic where the transmigration mostly fails and Shen Jiu wakes up from his qi deviation as User002 with the goddamn System treating him like he is Shen Yuan. Trashy yellow book what??? No, he doesn't need stats on his fellow peak lords, if he is supposed to follow a plot then he wants to see the script! You wretched floating rectangle, how is he supposed to play along if he doesn't know the source material?!
The stress of having what feels like a very pushy curse or an insanely weird demon inflicted upon him makes him deviate from some minor plot points and he gets punished for being OOC a couple of times until the System takes pity on him and directs him to Airplane bro, with the very clear suggestion that if he can't remember the early arcs of the story - System understands, User! It's very long after all. UwU - he should go and discuss it with the author.
He basically kicks down Shang Qinghua's door in desperation for some clarity and maybe an explanation, right now before he works himself into a stress-induced qi deviation, Shang-shidi. Shang hamster looks at his miserable scum villain, takes a deep breath, brings out all of Shen Qingqiu's favorite snacks that nobody should know about, makes a pot of calming tea and tells him everything.
Shang Qinghua expects Shen Qingqiu to be angry, to rip into him for writing him into this wretched life. And Shen Jiu is angry, but not at Qinghua. His anxious, mousy little shidi who lives his entire life under the looming threat of a horrible, seemingly unchangeable future doesn't look like a god. Shang Qinghua, who does his best to run his peak well and look out for his disciples despite his admittance that in the story the original Qinghua did a shoddy job - he doesn't look like someone who would have put pen to paper and written a tragedy if he knew it would become someone's reality.
And how could Shen Jiu, who has seen people sell their bodies and their very dignity for a cup of stale water, judge someone for writing a very bad yellow book so he can eat? Please. Peak Lord Shen might have developed a very discerning taste in literature over the years, but you can't fill your stomach with artistic integrity, Shang-shidi. Shen Jiu understands.
So they sit and for that first evening, Shen Qingqiu listens to all the differences creeping into the story, Shang Qinghua's retelling of the drafts he abandoned due to peer pressure, the long rambling tangents of the research he's done, even if they never made it into the story. Qinghua is so caught up in having someone to talk to that he doesn't realize that Shen Qingqiu put everything that happened to Qi-ge together, somewhere between the musings about how a sword inspired by kintsugi would be so cool looking, shame that nobody ever sees the thing, and the griping about how much one of his patrons complained about Yue Qingyuan dying without ever drawing his sword.
Later, when the snacks are gone and the tea is replaced with something stronger, he tells Shen Qingqiu about the stories he really wanted to write. About how he shamefully sneaked his dream man into PIDW, just so he could have some small part to himself, and oh, Shen Qingqiu will have to remind him about demon courting practices when they are both sober again, because it sounds like that Mobei prince is down bad for him.
He leaves that night with a newfound determination. Shang Qinghua might be resigned to the whims of his System and the shackles of the Plot, but Shen Jiu didn't burn the Qiu manor down and break his chains to give up so easily. This is his world, his sect, his Qi-ge on the line, and he would sooner wrest control from the System and become custodian of the world himself than let something take away and ruin what is his. He is the strategist of Cang Qiong Sect, there is no situation he can't think a way out of and he has had enough of tragedies.
Before any of that, however, he needs to go and have a good yell at his Qi-ge, smack his stupid face and then curl up in his arms for a good night's sleep. It's long overdue.
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brewed-pangolin · 4 months
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Drabble request for Super Soap Sunday:
Soap and you find yourselves in an unusual place/set of circumstances when the mood strikes. How does he A) let you know what he wants and B) how does he get you in the mood too?
Domestic Bliss
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Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader
Warnings: 18+ MDNI: Explicit smut, some fingering, P in V, backseat sex, slightly Dom-ish Soap, tons of dirty banter, Soap being a needy little horn dog
This 'drabble' turned into a one-shot because I can't control myself.
Synopsis: You and Soap take the next step in your relationship, and his not so subtle attempt to rile you up in public ends with an impromptu session in the parking lot.
Reference for where this man takes you to Poundtown here
Word count: 2k
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"Alright, ma'am. If I can just you to sign here, here, and here. Then we should be all set up." Your advisor instructed as you sifted through yet another mountain of paperwork. Your eyes growing numb and your fingers beginning to ache from the repeated minor motion of signing your life away.
You pushed the last pile of paperwork over the advisors desk with gentle smile curling into your lips. Glancing over at the man sitting next to you with that same smile, a loving fondness in your eyes as you both took the next pivotal step in your relationship.
A mortgage.
Soap's demeanor was calm. Stoic even. Letting you take the lead in this circumstance as you were the one going to habitate the home more often than he would. A thought you both pushed aside for now to savor the wave of domestic bliss that came along after you signed the final piece of paperwork.
Yet his cool facade couldn't hide the cerulean maelstrom swirling within the whites of his eyes. A look you knew all too well, and one that never failed to send a quick shiver down your spine.
But here? At the bank?
Your smile quickly curled into a smirk, rolling your eyes at him as you turned your attention back to the advisor across the desk. You couldn't feed into Soap's growing needy desires. Not in public at least.
Pursing your lips with a heavy sigh, you tried to maintain your composure by focusing on the task at hand. Eyes trained to the quick movements of fingers across the keyboard as your consultant effortlessly entered your information into the database.
However, even the light clicking of keys couldn't keep your attention as you caught the sudden tremor of his knee in the lower periphery of your vision. The frantic cadence of his boot heel hitting the floor tearing at your concentration yet again, forcing you the bring the knuckles of your right hand up to your mouth to hide the apparent grin quickly forming on your lips.
With as subtle movement as possible, you placed your left hand on the top of his knee to quell his growing feverish motion. Gripping your fingers into the fabric of his jeans and pushing towards the floor in a physical attempt to ease his obviously heightening arousal.
“Ookay. That’s done. Let me get this all printed out and you two should be all set.” 
“Thank you, sir. Appreciate all your help with this.”
You share a quick glance with your advisor as he stands, his eyes momentarily shifting to Soap with a subtle curl in the corner of his mouth. You keep a close eye on him as he exits the office, finally turning to face Soap with a furrowed brow and address the apparent tension erupting between you two.
“Jesus Christ, Johnny. Would you please calm down?” You scolded playfully. Your lips a thin line of a smile, obscuring your clenched teeth as you dug your fingers further into his jeans.
“How much fuckin’ longer is this gonna take, bonnie? ‘Cause I'm 'bout to bend ya over this goddamn desk if he don't speed this shit up. He can bloody watch for all I care.” 
"We're almost done, Johnny. He just needs to give us the paperwork, and then we can go. So just, keep it in your pants for another five fuckin' minutes."
Your tone of reprimand barely able to combat the deep, rumbling brogue in his voice. Shifting slightly in your seat to quell the growing ache pulsing within your core. A gesture that most certainly did not go unnoticed as you took in the hungry blaze radiating within his eyes.
"Johnny. Don't. No!" Your frivolous attempt to stop him was broken down immediately as he thrusted his hand between your legs. Pressing his knuckles into the base of your heat through your jeans. Shifting to bring his chair closer and caress his mouth and tease you with his whispering brogue to the nape of your neck.
"Gonna fuckin' wreck ya, bonnie. Forget th'mortgage. This my down payment fer tha sweet pussy a'yers."
"Goddamit, MacTavish. Not here, ya fuckin' horn dog."
"Horn dog?" He questions with that distinctly mischievous grin. Pulling away as he eyed your advisor walking back into the office. His calmness in complete contrast to the excited flush bellowing from your chest as you quickly swat his hand away, scolding him quietly under your breath.
"Overconfident bastard."
"Alright. You two are all set up. You should be getting a call within the next five business days once you qualify. Other than that, welcome to home ownership."
"Thank you." You shook your advisor's hand, grabbed at your paperwork, and made an immediate bee line for the door. Beating Soap at his own game as you left him in the office with an obvious growing hard on. Already midway to the exit of the bank when you eyed him barreling out of the office in your periphery.
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You didn't want to lose focus again. Not now. Now when you had the upper hand. You Kept your eyes locked onto the 4Runner at the back of the parking lot as your feet moved quickly at their own accord. Your ears perking to the sound of its alarm, a wave of triumph rolling over you as the locks sprung free.
You opened the backseat passenger door to toss your purse and paperwork on the seat. Expecting to see Soap at the driver side as you tried to close the door.
Tried.
You glanced questioningly at the door. Only then did you notice Soap's hand gripping on the edge. Spinning on your heels as you came face to face with a fiery blaze and a hungry look in his eyes.
"John?"
"Get in."
"John?!"
"GET IN!"
You felt his hands on your hips the moment his voice registered within your mind. Thrusting you into the back seat, an excitedly victorious giggle escaping your chest as he crawled in before slamming the door behind him.
"Yer such a fuckin' lit'le minx, y'know that? Leavin' me th're wit a full bloody stonner." He growled, pulling your shoes off and tossing them to the side, frantically moving to the front of your jeans as you continued to laugh in triumph at his feverish need.
"Makin' me do the goddamn walk o' shame and...why are these fuckin' buttons so goddamn small?!"
"Ooohhh, what happened to that cool confidence, Soap? Thought you could handle yourself under pressure. Bein' a demolitions expert an' all."
"Yer pushin' it, lass." He spat back. Relinquishing the fight with the buttons in favor of simply tearing your jeans off.
"M'also not tryin'a fuck tha bombs, smartass."
Soap tossed your garments to the back, flaring his nostrils with a darkened veil in his eyes as he spread your legs to take in the sight of your silken arousal. Moving onto his haunches with a deep inhale, his eyes rolling back as he took in the scent of your growing excitement.
“Mhmm. Could smell tha’ sweet pussy in th’re. An’ ya already so fuckin’ wet fer me, aren’t ya, bonnie?”
Words escaped you as he pushed two of his fingers inside your soaking heat, your eyes fluttering closed as he slowly pumped up to his knuckle, teasingly preparing you for what was to come. Unable to restrain your body’s reaction as your walls reflexively clenched around him.
“Donnae think I didn’t feel tha’. I know what ya need, lass. An’ m’gonna give it to ya.” Soap lured to you with a husky purr, your eyes fluttering open in response to take in the sight of him stroking himself through his jeans. His steely blue gaze boring into your soul as he effortlessly worked at the buckle of his belt. A throaty growl reverberating within him as he teasingly pushed the waist of his jeans below his hips to expose his painfully hardened cock.
"Johnny, I-" Your pleasured whimper was cut short as he throw his muscular frame on top of you, sealing his mouth over yours in a wet and desperately needy kiss. His strong hands gripping into the flesh of your thighs, guiding them around his waist as he teasingly pushed his throbbing erection into your moistened cunt. Filling you to the brim in one fluid thrust.
"Th's s'my home, bonnie. Right 'ere. B'tween yer legs an' deep in th's beautiful fuckin' pussy a 'yers."
Soap didn't give you time or air to respond as he encapsulated your mouth once more and immediately began pistoning himself into your core. The force of his thrusts wiping whatever thoughts and words out your mind, only focusing on the feel of him as he caged you against the backseat with his arms bent on either side of your head.
"Steamin' hell yer tight, lass." Soap growled into your lips, pressing his chest down into yours, keeping you still and allowing him full reign to pound his hardened length into your heat.
His bulbous tip kissing the flesh of your cervix with each forward thrust before pulling out almost entirely to only throw himself back into you once more. The continuous motion forcing your back to arch off the backseat, pushing your pelvis into his to stimulate the sensitive flesh of your clit.
Soap pulled his mouth away in repsonse to your shifting position, leaning forward to press his forehead into the crook of your neck. His hot breath cascading down your skin as he grunted and moaned with every subsequent thrust, his relentless pounding forcing you to grip into his shoulders to keep yourself stable beneath him.
"Johnny...Johnny..." you whispered softly against his temple. His name the only coherent word you could manage to let fall from your lips as your mind and body fell into the depths of his desperate and needy pleasure.
"Jus'...lemme 'ave th's, bonnie."
"Only g'nna need...an'ther minute.."
Soap's gasping breaths washed over the flesh of your neck, his voice rumbling within his throat like an otherworldly mixture of a growling whimper.
And the moment you felt his hips begin to falter, you pushed aisde your own pleasure in favor of reaching his. Only focusing on him. His needs. His desperate compulsion to always need to fill you and mark you as his own.
"C'mon, bonnie. Come for me."
You responded to his grunting demand by simply pressing your lips to the flesh of his temple. Wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, letting him vigorously thrust his throbbing cock into your cunt until you felt the warmth of his release erupt deep inside you.
Soap's movements then halted all together. Burying himself into your heat as he rode out the relentless pulses of his climax.
Even within this impromptu moment, with him panting against your neck and you hunched beneath him in the backseat, there was always a certain level of intimacy that seemed to meld between you in the bliss of the afterglow. Cradling him in your arms as he slumped over in a limp and gasping mess.
"Fuckin hell, bonnie." He whispered, softly panting against your neck as he lightly pursed his lips against your neck.
"Jesus, Johnny. If I knew home ownership got ya this worked up, I'd it done years ago."
"Shut it, lass."
"Can't wait to see how hard ya get when I do my taxes."
Soap remained silent to your playful banter, responding only by continuing to kiss the curve of your neck as his body trembled, slowly coming down from the high of his release.
His mouth gently curled into a smile as he placed a series of gentle kisses up the nape of your neck. Chiding in once more to your jesting, his distinctive brogue thicker and more hoarse as he purred against your flesh.
"Won't 'ave ta, hen. Unless yer 'nta doin' a threesome."
"What?" You questioned, pulling him out of your neck to meet his steely blue gaze with a coitish smile.
"Uncle Sam already fucks ya in the ass, bonnie. It's the only time I'm yer designated sloppy side piece."
You can't hide the smile that emerged over your lips, pushing a piece of sweat ridden hair out of his eyes as you lovingly gaze up at him.
"Then I guess I'll be needing another down payment in advance. Just for good measure."
And of course, Soap obliges. Thrusting his still hardened cock deep into your core as he mutters those two words you love to hear.
"Yes, ma'am."
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@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @kkaaaagt @havoc973 @writeforfandoms @luismickydees
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psychedelic-ink · 1 year
Text
𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑨 𝑩𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑺
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pairing: din djarin x fem!reader
genre: hurt/comfort, romance, smut, forced proximity
word count: 2.8k
summary: A friend, lover, then stranger. The last thing you expected was to be snowed in along with the bounty hunter. Tension rises as the past circles you both, trapped in the Razor Crest with no where to run or hide.
warnings: established past relationship, piv, touch starved din, creampie, also this takes place after S2 but the Razor Crest is still here because I love it so much and miss it
a/n: As some people might remember, I had a winter WIP list called 'Psychedelic Winter,' and this was one of the fics that I said I would write. And I thought, 'Hey, what better moment to post this than the day Mando S3 drops?' Enjoy everyone, happy mando day!
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When you were thrown onto an icy planet by your so-called colleagues, you didn’t really have a plan for survival. It was your fault really, you were too trusting, too eager to help and be useful. It was a stupid habit that you had since very little, forced to feed yourself in this lonely lonely world. 
However, it wasn’t always like that. 
With a shudder, you hug yourself, your boot-clad feet buried in the snow. The flakes feel like glass shattering across your skin, painful and cold. Even your lungs tremble from it. As you walk forward, your mind brutally reminds you of him. A man that became a friend, a confidant which had quickly turned into something more. Heat pools between your legs at the mere thought of it, the feeling of emptiness and cold prominent. 
The Mandalorian. Mando. Din Djarin. Din. 
You miss him still. You can’t really help it. You loved traveling with him, and after such a long time, you truly felt like you belonged. He became family. He became your everything. Soon after your little family grew, Grogu joining the fray. It felt like a dream, you were finally living out what you’d been searching for. 
But that all changed when Grogu had to return to his own kind. The Jedi. Din grew distant, he pulled away, not responding to you or your touches. You just felt grief emanating from him, something that you couldn’t fix. He didn’t ask you to leave, you just left. Once again alone, once again without a home. 
In your desperate attempt to replace it, you went with anyone who would tolerate your presence. You’ve met some good people, but you’ve met some assholes too—obviously. 
Your lashes turn into cold crystals, stinging every time you blink. In the distance you see a hint of yellow light that bleeds into red, you can feel the warmth of it despite being far away. Like a moth to a flame, you walk towards it, your steps fighting against the cold wind and the snow. You can’t feel your fingertips anymore, or your legs, or your face for that matter. You’re flirting with death. 
You notice that the ship most likely crashed. You press your freezing palms into the metal, still hot, a soft heat spreading throughout your hand and blossoming across your arms. You let out a sigh. It feels familiar like you’ve been here almost. Teeth clattering, you reach the door and give it a loud knock, your fists hurt when you do it, but you manage to muster your last bits of strength. 
The door opens with a muffled hiss and you find yourself immediately staring into a blaster. 
A very familiar blaster. 
You quickly realize why this ship felt familiar, it was the goddamn Razor Crest. Your home—once upon a time. 
The blaster falters, and you stare into the familiar dark visor, he tilts his head. You like to imagine that he’s happy to see you despite the shock. With a crooked smile, you mimic his movement, cocking your head to the side. 
“Hey, Din.” 
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Everything is the same. Everything is different. It’s weird to be back within the Razor Crest’s metal walls. The ship creaks with the wind, metal groaning as Din sits across from you, his legs spread and elbows leaning over his knees. You chew the inside of your cheek. Having such intimate memories with someone is an odd thing, your body still remembers what it felt like to be filled so thoroughly by him, to have his large hands squeezing and kneading your ass as you dripped and begged for more. 
Heat settles right below your spine. You wonder if it’s the same for him too. Had he thought of you after you left? Had he rutted into the pillows imagining that it was you instead? 
Probably not. 
“The engines are messed up from the cold but as soon as the storm lets up a bit we should be good to go,” he says, refocusing your focus back on him. “We’re going to be stuck here for a while.” 
You nod, not really knowing what else to say. To be honest, you’re slightly embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this. 
“How did you end up here?” he asks. 
The question surprises you because you hadn’t expected him to make conversation. You can’t tell if he’s angry or not from the modulated voice. He sounds like he always does. You look up to him, wishing you could see his face. 
“Grouped up with the wrong people. You?” 
“After a bounty.” 
“Ah, the same old.” 
“Pretty much.” 
The following silence is uncomfortable, it makes you feel unwelcomed and slightly gross. You don’t know what to say. What can you say to the man you basically abandoned? That was never your intention, but it was what he wanted. He didn’t need you around, reminding him of something important that he’d lost. 
Your mouth acts unfiltered, the horror sinking in as soon as you ask. 
“Have you heard from Grogu?” 
He stiffens quite visibly. His shoulders raise, his visor looks down. You curse your tongue from moving on its own. Din’s anger is physically felt by you, it chokes out the air from your lungs, forces the soles of your shoes to be glued to the floor. Your eyes go wide and you swallow. Your lips are sealed shut when he stands, his figure suddenly larger and taller than what you’ve been used to from your memories. 
“You don’t need to ask about him,” he answers curtly. “We don’t need to talk at all.” 
Din storms towards the back of the ship, his long strides reverberating through the metal walls. His sudden outburst leaves you stunned, your thoughts scrambled like the tangled wires of a circuit board. The sound of sparks and him tinkering with something echoes within the confinements. You’re stunned. Confused. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do, before the ship groans and shudders again. A loud groan vibrating from your feet to your chest. 
Your feet move of their own accord, propelled by a mix of curiosity and concern. As you approach, the cacophony of tinkering grows louder, the metallic clinks and whirs blending into a symphony of sound. At first glance it looks like he’s doing nothing, crouched over, just occupying his hands. You reach out to touch his shoulder, a hesitant gesture. To your surprise, he leans in instinctively, his body responding to your touch like a magnet to metal.
But then jerks away, as if he’s been burned. 
“What did you mean by that?” you ask, pulling away.
He huffs, his hands falling. “I just said we don’t have to talk.” 
“What if I want to talk? I missed you, Din.” 
It’s an unexpected, sudden confession but you decide to go with it. It isn’t a lie. You did miss him. 
“Miss me?” he hisses out, his head falling back, he stares at the ceiling. “You left.” 
“What? Are…are you blaming me for what happened?” 
“No,” he stands up, his masked face an inch away from yours. You fight the urge to take a step back. He wouldn’t hurt you. He slowly tilts his head as if he’s amused by whatever expression you’re pulling. “I’m stating a fact. Didn’t you go?” 
Your eyes fall to his chest, “I did but—” 
“Then I find you on the brink of death, shivering, helpless,” he lets out a deep breath, chest heaving. “Was it worth it?” 
“I left because you didn’t want me around.” 
Your gaze snaps back up. He doesn’t move, the visor staring back at you feels colder compared to the storm raging outside. The build-up of tears is sudden, overwhelming. Your face controls with anger, your brows pinched and your lips curling down. The rage twists in your gut, you’ve been suffering, doing jobs left and right to feed yourself. And he has the audacity to tell you that it’s your fault? That he never wanted you to leave? 
Bullshit. 
Without thinking you push him away, your hands finding the cold plates that decorate his chest. He doesn’t move. An indestructible wall. Shaking your head, you push at him again, and again, and again. When nothing works, you hammer down with fists. Your heart beats loudly and painfully in your chest. You can’t breathe. You can’t speak. It’s suffocating and cold. So fucking cold. 
Your fists stop mid-air when he holds them, gloved fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists. 
“I never asked you to leave.” 
“You didn’t have to,” your eyes fall, shame heating your cheeks. “You barely spoke to me. Touched me. It felt like I was reminding you of a tainted memory. Something you could never have again.” 
“That’s not…dank farrik—” 
He pulls you in, arms coiling around you with the intent to never let go. The beskar is uncomfortable but comforting. Your hands shake as you return in like, wrapping your arms around him weakly. His hand cradles the back of your head, the other one sliding down to rest against the small of your back. He doesn’t say a word but you know this is his own peculiar way of apologizing. Even if he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for. Neither of you are. Luckily, you have a very functional mouth. 
“I thought you wanted me gone after…I didn’t know. I should’ve realized you were hurting. I was so afraid of what you might say that I acted before you actually said it.” 
“I was never planning on saying it,” he answers. “I missed you too, mesh’la.” 
His scent; metal, musk, and something sweet fills your lungs. You take deep inhales of him, grounding yourself back to reality. The hard surface of his helmet presses into the top of your head. The ache between your legs is uncomfortable, you want to touch him, feel his bare skin against yours. 
“Do you trust me?” he asks. 
You answer. “With my life.” 
“Then close your eyes for me. Let me guide you.” 
You do as you’re told. A dance that you’ve grown accustomed to once upon a time. The hiss of a helmet, the touch of his lips, the feeling of his hands cupping your bottom. He slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, reminding himself of what you felt like all those times ago. He tastes the memories he hasn’t been a part of, he gets used to the differences. 
When he parts, it’s hard to keep your eyelids from fluttering. You don’t open them, but the tease of the what if always remains. What would happen if you gave into temptation? Would he know you’ve seen him? Would he be angry? Would he never see you again? Would it be worth the risk? 
No, you think, It wouldn’t. 
“Touch me, riduur, I need you to touch me,” the last plea is spoken brokenly. “please.” 
Your hands roam his armor, blindly helping him out of it, touching every exposed skin and muscle. He’s trembling under your touch. You feel the thrust of his hips into yours, still clothed, desperate. Your skin prickles when you feel the hardness, heat pooling between your legs, and tingling. You’re just as desperate as he is. 
He takes your hand and leads you to the bunk. You feel him everywhere. His lips are on your breasts, kissing a trail down and circling the pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth wide, fitting as much as he can as he sucks and bites. You arch into him, your hands still touching—tracing his back, cupping his ass, pulling him closer, asking him to thrust against you in the same desperate manner he had not moments ago. 
“Why did you leave?” he asks between wet, needy kisses. “Why did you go?” 
“I don’t know,” you say over and over. “I was scared, I’m sorry, I love you.” 
It was like a song that was whispered for their ears only. It’s a symphony of reminding themselves what they’d lost, and what they’d gained. 
Feeling him inside is a beautiful thing. Din is not a small man, not in the slightest, and he has to cover your eyes just in case when he fills you. It’s a smooth entry, your wetness enough to pull him deep inside. Your walls flutter, the blissful pain of the stretch makes you moan his name. The first thrust is like fireworks in your mind, bursting with pleasure. The second one you feel like ice, melting into the motion of his hips and the warmth of his cock. 
“Harder,” you breathe out. “Harder, fuck me, Din.” 
His teeth sink into your neck, his pacing fast, hard. The sound of skin against skin is loud enough to drown the sound of the snowstorm outside. You push against each thrust, albeit your movements not really doing much, uncoordinated and unpracticed. Din pins your hips down, his fingers like iron branding your skin. He hammers into you, the dark curls stimulating your clit forcing out a gasp from you. 
“Look at me.” 
“What?” 
“Look at me. Open your eyes.” 
His hips slow down into a tortuous grind. Your bottom lip trembles at the thought. You’re scared to open your eyes, and frankly, you’re not sure if you heard him right. His thumb smooths over your closed lid, gently pulling them down.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers. “I want to see you. I want to see the look in your eyes when you come for me. I want you to see mine.” 
“Are…are you sure?” 
Your heart feels like a ticking time bomb, your chest ready to explode, the ticking in your ears too loud. 
“I’m sure.” 
Your eyes open incredibly slow, fearful. Din’s face clears up and you see him smiling down at you, his hair mussed, sticking to his forehead due to sweat. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his cheek, feeling the trimmed down hairs with the pad of your thumb. He leans into your touch. 
“Now, that wasn’t so scary was it?” he asks, you smile and shake your head. 
“No, it wasn’t.”
He kisses you. It’s different this time, softer, slower. He resumes his thrusts, hips snapping into you with the intent of release. His one hand slides between your bodies, thick fingers finding your clit and starting to draw quick, tight circles around the sensitive nub. The skin above your stomach grows tight, your thighs shaking against the broadness of his hips. You can’t get enough of him. Kissing him and at the same time trying to look at him. You engrave his face into memory. 
Din breaks the kiss with a rush, his one hand cradles your cheek, tilting your head up to him. He holds your gaze, his lips parted. You feel your cunt fluttering around him, his cock heavy and throbbing deep inside you. Din spills into you with a groan, his hips stuttering forward. You follow right after, the sight of him too much. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and his eyes roll back, you gush around him, your body convulsing as a silent promise never to let him go. 
When both of you come down from your highs, he kisses you. Again and again. A man starved. A man desperate. Only one plea falling from his lips. 
“Touch me.” 
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You wake up with his touch on your shoulder. When you open your eyes memories come flooding back, you and Din, again you had found your home. You wince as you slowly get up, the ache between your legs uncomfortable but missed. You notice that Din is in full armor, waiting for you outside of the cot. 
“Come with me,” he says, voice hoarse. “I want to show you something.” 
He helps you into your clothes and his hand never leaves your waist as the two of you make your way up to the cockpit. The storm had subsided, only snow falling scarcely from the heavens above. He points you to look up, and you do. 
Your breath catches in your throat. The sky is alight with an otherworldly dance of colors - the aurora borealis.
The lights shift and shimmer, painting the sky with vibrant hues of green, blue, and purple. It's as if the entire galaxy has come to life, it’s beautiful. 
Din's arms wrap around you from behind, and you melt into his embrace. The warmth of his body against yours, the strength of his grip, and the steady rhythm of his breathing all serve to ground you in the moment. You feel safe, and you feel loved.
The aurora continues to dance above you, you lean your head back against Din's chest. It's like nothing else matters in the world except for this moment - just the two of you, surrounded by the beauty of the cosmos.
And as you look up at the lights, you know that you are home.
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subbypeterparker · 9 months
Note
Hi!, I was wondering if you could do NSFW headcannons for Ethan Landry 🤭
Ugh you guys know just what to ask me 😫
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warnings: NSFW below the cut!!
first things first, this man is 100% a complete and total sub
let’s be honest, with me we knew this was coming ;)
big on being pinned down ;) doesn’t matter if it’s through actual restraints, or your hands, he’ll be a blushing mess
such a sleeper after sex. as much as you’d love to do proper aftercare, he just instantly falls asleep (don’t worry, you take care of him as soon as he wakes up)
Ethan might be the biggest crier known to man (i’m biased, and think all puppy dog eyes give off that energy)
omfg there is nothing prettier than his eyes when the poor thing tears up
whiner (VERY vocal)
it’s a goddamn miracle chad hasn’t complained about the noise when you two fuck, as Ethan is the loudest person ever
moans, groans, whines, pleas and begs; he does it all, and does it very well
huge on getting choked. breath play is possibly his biggest turn on, and the simple feeling of your gentle hands wrapping around his neck just gets him going
into knife play…but only slightly! he doesn’t want his skin to actually be pierced by a blade, but the uncertainty of what you’ll do to him has him arching into the blade
he thrusts his hips a lot by accident, and usually while he’s inside you somehow (might end up being too rough, and you have to pin him down)
i’d like to think he’s very very sensitive (nipples, his pretty little tip, everything 🤭)
mommy and ma’am kinks. i will take no further arguments, he’s so so into things like that
“yes mommy” is his voice omg 😵‍💫
not big on fluids like spit, but oh my lord is he into cum play
however, he’s not 100% against the idea of you spitting in his mouth
big stutterer when he’s so into it. can’t form sentences, much less actual words
fully convinced he’s an everything man. boobs and butts, never just one
this just means he’s handys with everything he can reach, and you can fully expect him to have his mouth all over you, leaving hickies as he moves
honestly is into role play. as a nerd, his biggest thing is having his partner dress up as a character he fantasizes about
bonus points if it a dominant woman
very into humiliation. sitting with all your friends, while your hand secretly strokes his cock, and all the poor thing can do is sit there and take it
he’s the world’s #1 praise fan!! you heard it here first: whether it’s praising you (“god you feel so good”) between moans, or when you praise him (“baby you’re doing such a good job”), his brain goes numb, and he just becomes your toy to play with
he is however very into degradation, especially if you tie it in with hitting him 😋
pain. kink.
leave bruises and bite marks all over him, and this man will cum on the spot
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
he is possibly my new favourite person i will write for (dw though, peter is here to stay 😋) but jack champion is just the sweetest guy i’ve ever seen, and i’m considering writing for him too (but it would just be fluff and angst)
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freak-accident419 · 20 days
Text
Soft Spot
Derek Danforth x GN!Reader
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Summary: After a long, frustrating day of work, Derek comes back home to you for comfort. Being the tough, asshole-ish, and reckless man he was on the outside, he easily melts into you with sweetness and submission. After all, he had such a soft spot for you.
Word Count: 1.7k
Content: fluff, gender neutral reader, cuddling, cursing, reader babying Derek, reader feeding him cherries (putting their fingers in his mouth, wow) but it’s not sexual (maybe only slightly suggestive), reader and Derek are engaged already, basically tooth-rotting fluff and intimacy, short but sweet, inspired by a scene from S02E06 of The Bear
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You were laying on the mattress in the bedroom that you and Derek shared, looking down at your phone while eating cherries from the nightstand. There was a sweet domesticity to it—you in your pajamas, snuggled up in bed, waiting for your boyfriend (or rather, fiancé) to come back home.
Derek had a long, exhausting day of work. He thought today was going to be like every other day, relaxed and held back, but instead, he had to deal with so much bullshit from Danforth Enterprises, including international affairs and money complications. And his employees made things even worse, their incompetence driving him insane until every sentence he spoke had at least one “fuck” in it. And not only that, but UDG and Nine Star were experiencing setbacks and issues that could have probably been easily fixed if it wasn’t for his idiotic employees. After an entire day of yelling at his absentminded workers with hostility, he was so desperate to just come home to you.
It was only until the evening when you finally saw Derek in the doorway of the room, letting out an exasperated sigh. He looked… rough, to say the least, despite the fact he was wearing a fancy and highly expensive black suit. He was still very attractive, of course, especially in that suit, but right now he just looked utterly exhausted. You turned off your phone, placing it face down on the nightstand to give him your full attention.
“Hey, my love,” you coo softly, smiling up at him.
“Hey, babe,” he mumbles tiredly, slowly walking towards you.
“Rough day?”
“Yeah.”
“Come here,” you grin, grabbing him by his black necktie to bring his lips to yours, sharing a brief, soft kiss. Then he lazily went into bed, melting into your arms with his head buried in your neck. He melted into you entirely. He felt comforted and warm in your embrace, the tension in his muscles gradually dissipating.
“They didn’t keep you too long, did they?” You ask gently, holding him closely as you caress his hair.
“They totally did, Y/n. Today was a fucking mess,” he huffs, yet already too relaxed to even raise his voice. “I swear, baby, these guys are so fucking incompetent and can’t do their goddamn jobs. Those fucks give me such a migraine.”
You continue to stroke his hair and then his face. “Aww, my poor baby,” you coo soothingly. Derek loved all of it, leaning into your touch and just being limp in your arms. However, he would shoot anyone else who witnessed him in this state. “Westwyld just hired a whole bunch of idiots. He’s even an idiot himself. It’s none of your fault, my love.”
He sighs softly, nuzzling into your neck further. “I know,” he mumbles dismissively. “But it’s just so fucking frustrating because I feel like I always have to do everything ‘cause they keep fucking things up. Like, what are we even paying them for if they can’t do their fucking job?”
You chuckle under your breath. “I know, honey, I know,” you whisper. “Well, that’s why you’re the CEO, yeah? To keep everything, you know, all balanced and orderly?” He hummed in understanding. You look over to the nightstand, then grabbed a cherry from the box. Derek noticed this action and pulled his head out from your neck, now sitting up against the bed frame. You then guided the small, red fruit to his lips. “Open,” you order in a gentle voice.
You watched him open his mouth and you placed the cherry in, letting the stem rip off, placing it in a bowl for stems and pits. He began to chew it slowly, indulging in the sweet and juicy sensation in his mouth while also enjoying the fact that you were feeding him. The cherry tasted different than any others he had tried, all sweet with no bitter or even slightly tart aftertaste. “Mm, these are good, where did you get these?” He asked with a mouthful of cherry flesh, his speech slightly muffled.
“Hm, it was a shipment from Japan,” you answer. “I think they’re, like, the most expensive cherries in the world… Open,” you say again, letting your fingers enter his mouth to grab the pit, placing the seed in the bowl on the nightstand. In the few seconds your fingers were in his mouth, it was arousing and suggestive, to say the least. But all you wanted to do right now was to take care of him with the least amount of energy possible. If he was fatigued, then you should let him rest.
“I can’t believe I’m going to marry you,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering down to his shiny silver engagement ring.
“And I can’t believe I’m marrying you, my love,” you chuckle, kissing his cheek, reaching over to the nightstand to grab another cherry. His lips parted, letting you place it in his mouth, eating it contently. “How did your day go, baby? Like, before everything went to shit. Tell me all the good.”
After he ate most of the cherry’s flesh, he let your fingers in his mouth once more, removing the pit and placing it in the bowl. There was something so curiously intimate about this moment, feeding him, removing the pit for him, and holding him close.
“Had my usual coffee,” he answers quietly.
“Oh yeah? Your flat white with oat milk?”
“And extra shot of espresso—”
“—extra espresso, yes,” you giggle, stroking his hair once more. “How much espresso does one need? Like, flat whites are meant to have a higher espresso-to-milk ratio, yet you still want more.”
He pouted, looking at you from the side. “But it’s good.”
“Do you even need to say ‘extra shot of espresso’? Like, as a flat white, I’m pretty sure they’re adding more espresso than, say, a latte,” you grin.
“I know, but I want more than usual, like, more than a flat white,” he reasons, yet his delivery suggesting that he was lying.
“Wow. You’re just greedy, aren’t you?”
“You know me,” he mumbles.
“You don’t know the difference, do you? Is that why you always ask for an extra shot, just to make sure?” You say, calling him out.
He just pouts silently at your teasing, which only amused your further. “You’re a dork,” you giggle.
“Meanie.”
“You’re the meanie. You never answered my call,” you utter. It was true. He was too caught up with work that he didn’t even know you called him up at that time.
“Oh, shit…” he sighs. “I’m sorry, babe. I was just so busy today, I totally forgot to get back to you.”
You frown. “Hey, no, don’t—don’t apologize, I was just teasing. I know how busy you were today and I’m sorry that you were surrounded by idiots. You’re okay.”
“Okay.”
For one last time, you grab a cherry, guiding it into his mouth. You wait for him to chew it until you’d take the pit out from his mouth. You wipe some of the fruit’s juice off the corner of his lips, but suddenly, his mouth welcomes in your fingers once more, sucking lightly on your fingertips before you pulled them away to kiss his lips passionately. It was a patient, loving kiss, your lips moving slowly with his as you savored the cherry taste on him.
You had him in an embrace in one arm and the other was occupied by cupping his face gently. Your touch was tender, making him feel comforted and warm. You looked closely at his face, absorbing all of the details. You could see the faint freckles spread across his nose and cheeks. He was so close to you. And he was beautiful.
“Hi,” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes.
“Hi,” he whispers back.
“You’re so cute,” you comment.
You caress the side of his face as he enjoyed feeling your soft palm and fingertips graze his cheek. His eyes closed sleepily, completely infatuated with your soothing touch and the way you encompassed his body. You pressed a kiss on the top of his head. And again. And again.
He felt small.
Like, smaller than usual.
He was completely vulnerable with you and it was freeing. This was a part of him that nobody else but you knew about. He could curse and be a privileged, arrogant dickhead whenever he pleased, but at the end of the day, he is always succumbing to your embrace and warmth. He was indisputably smitten with you—infatuated, even. You were the only person he could be fragile around.
“You know, your mom is always on my ass about you,” you chuckle, pressing two soft kisses on the top of his head as you pet his curls.
“Huh? I thought she liked y—”
“No, no, it’s not like that. She just asks me about you all the time. How you’re doing and everything.”
“Oh.”
“I think it’s because she knows you only open up to me,” you point out.
“Yeah, well… She’s been busy her whole life. I’ve never gotten the time to… You know… Actually have a full, authentic conversation with her.”
You kiss the top of his head once more, then let your head rest on it. “Mommy issues?”
He hums in response.
“Does the fact that she and Westwyld having some weird thing—in the past, at least—also affect your relationship with her?” You ask curiously.
“Well, sort of. I don’t know, he always acts—”
“He tries to act like a dad to you, yeah,” you giggle.
There was a silent pause as you two just cuddled each other, Derek, especially, feeling safe in your arms.
“Stop investing in crypto,” you murmur, stroking his hair.
“Mm, stop crushing my dreams,” he grumbles wearily.
“Your ‘dreams’ would get us broke if you weren’t already a billionaire.”
He chuckles and you proceed to caress him gently, observing him silently.
“S’it too hot, my love?” You inquire gently, beginning to help him remove his tie and then his blazer once he nodded. “Better?” He hummed as you placed the clothes at the end of the bed and went back to cuddling him.
He was closer than before, laying down beside you with his face buried into your neck. He held onto your waist tightly as if you’d disappear any second, and your arms wrapped around him generously. You press a soft kiss to his forehead and hold him warmly.
“You’re going to be my husband…” you whisper sweetly, kissing the top of his head once more.
“Mm, you’re going to be my spouse…” he mirrors.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too. So, so much.” Derek mutters sleepily, melting into your touch.
You rubbed his back, letting your head rest against his. Until finally, after peppering his face and head with kisses, you two fell asleep in each other’s arms, feeling safe and secure.
219 notes · View notes
istoleyoursk1n · 2 months
Note
WAIT WAIT HERES ONE! All companions drunk off their asses in a karaoke session while Tav is the only sober one😭
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•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•
Tav being sober while all the other companions are drunk off their asses in a karaoke session
(I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS HELP HAHAHA)
.
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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION
Says he's only there for the drinks and to watch everyone else make a fool of themselves.
Ends up being part of the people who are being absolute fools of themselves.
He’s the type to say “oh I can’t siNg” only to grab the mic out of your hands and start balling out the lyrics of Bad Romance like it's nobody’s business.
He’s tame at first, enjoying himself as he watches the shitshow unfold but four drinks in and he’s already hoarding the microphone.
I like to think he somehow becomes better at singing the drunker he gets.
Accidentally hits high notes and he makes it everyone's problem.
Probably slapped someone by accident when they were trying to get the microphone back from his drunken ass.
He becomes far more expressive and loud the more he drinks which only makes it all the more fun to be honest.
Tried to have a sing-off with Wyll. Somehow ends up with Astarion threatening to bite him.
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: ̗̀➛ GALE
Very confused.
He came here for bonding time with friends only to be surrounded by feral drunks.
He’s definitely not the one singing but Astarion kept giving him wine and he kept drinking and now he’s halfway into either drunk crying or drunk ranting.
He’s the type to start talking about his ex again once drunk.
Had a very informative conversation with the wall.
Fell asleep for about five seconds only to be woken up by the sound of loud screaming into the microphone wonderful singing.
He likes suggesting songs for the group to sing but he's not even including himself in said singing. The least he does is clap his hands.
Remember when I said he’d either drunk cry or drunk rant? Guess what, he’s doing both now and either Halsin or you are trying their damn best to support him.
Try to ask him what he's crying about and he wouldn't even know what the fuck he’s crying about. Proceeds to give you a long instructive speech about the importance of how one pronounces certain spells. (He accidentally activated said spell too).
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: ̗̀➛ WYLL
He drank exactly one bottle of alcohol and called it quits. He’s practically as sober as you right now.
The most tame of the group by far but he hardly has any complaints about the chaos, he's having so much fun!
If Astarion isn't hoarding the microphone, he’s the one singing and he’s really good at it. This man can sing and he figured now would be the best time to finally show it.
He’s being as humble as he can but you can tell he’s putting in more effort than he should for a drunken karaoke party.
This man is literally singing each song as if he’s performing his own concert. Ten songs in and somehow his voice box still hasn't given out.
Started having a sing-off with Astarion and he could hardly take it seriously. He wasn’t even drunk but he kept laughing and when he laughs Astarion laughs and they both ended up becoming a mess.
He and Astarion were probably the ones bickering over who’d get to hold the microphone.
However, he always ends up giving the microphone to both because of his gentlemanly ways and this man can't say no to Astarion even if his life fucking depended on it.
HE SANG AN ENTIRE MUSICAL SOUNDTRACK.
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: ̗̀➛ KARLACH
SCREAMING INTO THE MICROPHONE.
Don’t ever give her the damn microphone or pick any goddamn song less you want your ears to bleed.
She loves metal/rock songs way too much and she will death metal scream every single word as if she was being dragged back down to the pits of hell.
She’s drunk off her ass as well and it gets worse because she keeps finishing people’s left over drinks.
She’s so unbelievably hyper when she's drunk and in a festive mood that during the whole karaoke session, she broke the damn table.
She laughed so hard right after that for a moment she forgot to fucking breath.
She constantly has to stand up and move about or dance to the music because she just has so much energy in her right now. It's damn well impressive how she somehow never tires.
The thing is, her laugh is contagious so when she starts laughing someone else probably starts laughing as well and it all becomes an even bigger disaster.
Broke the doorknob on her way to head out and grab more drinks.
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: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL
Didn't want to be there.
Everyone was so loud and obnoxious that it was honestly a tad bit annoying for her. She could have been doing something far more productive and instead-
Never mind that, now she's having a drinking contest with Shadowheart in the midst of all the screaming and singing.
Where did the shot glasses go?! Oh, its with her.
Suddenly, taking multiple shots of alcohol will help improve her tolerance to an array of different substances that may pose a threat to her bodily autonomy. That’s an excuse, she just doesn't want to seem unproductive.
Not the one singing at all but she keeps finishing the bottles before anyone else can even get a taste of them.
Surprisingly, she has a really high alcohol tolerance. She’d probably be 10 shots in and still appear as sober as you.
Though, please take the liquor away from her as soon as possible. When she actually gets drunk two things happen. She either becomes more aggressive than she ever was before or even worse, she becomes nicer.
Amidst it all, you may see a snicker or two come out of her, one that she’d be trying so hard to hide. Truth be told, she would have grown to love her chaotic bunch of weirdo friends and she wouldn't have regretted a thing.
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: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART
Actually one of the people singing! When Astarion and Wyll aren't battling it out over the microphone of course.
Depending on her current mood, she's either going all out on Mitski songs or rocking it out with Karlach.
There is no damn way she went through the karaoke session without singing Washing Machine Heart.
Before she could sing another song, she was ever so quickly pulled into a drinking match with Lae’zel in which the winner was undetermined; because Karlach broke the damn table with the shot glasses on it.
There is no damn way she went through the karaoke session without singing Bring Me To Life, part 2.
When she gets really drunk she either becomes louder or eerily quiet.
She’ll just quietly sit in the corner and watch and sometimes it's just the creepiest thing ever.
But in the cases where she does get loud, she’s off laughing her ass off over the chaos unfolding right before her eyes. She would have been talking shit along with Astarion if it weren't for the fact that he was quite literally having a wrestling match with Wyll over the microphone.
Probably fell asleep after a while and somehow never woke up until the next day.
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: ̗̀➛ HALSIN
Very confused 2.0.
He tries to refrain from drinking as much as possible because he knows just how embarrassing he becomes so he kind of just smiles and sits there during the first half.
Besides he really doesn't want to burden you with having to be the only sober person in the party.
The least he’d be doing is very subtly dancing to the beat. Do you know how dads would do those little awkward dances during parties? Exactly that.
Either you, Shadowheart, or Astarion coaxed him into finally drinking and things began to go downhill from there.
The thing is, when he drinks, he can drink a lot, it's just that he prefers not to. However, the real reason he can drink a lot is that he forgets to set a limit for himself especially when his mind is so scattered.
Became oddly clingy towards you in ways that you’d never expect. Suddenly he’s blurting out random things he feels about you and the others in the most wholesome way imaginable.
If it isn't you, he’s confessing his “”undying love”” to the first person he sees.
Stared at a plant for five minutes.
•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•
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229 notes · View notes
byzantiumshades · 3 months
Text
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Pairing: Lee Jeno (NCT) x fem!reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut
Contains: Kissing, body worship, dry humping, swearing, dirty talk, hair pulling
Word count: 3345
A/N: With a special dedication to @sexygrass, I hope you'll like this version of cute 'n' sassy Jeno 😉
---
“The final assignment’s gonna be easy, my ass,” you murmur angrily, trying your best to focus on the book in your hands.
Despite the fact that you’ve been sitting there for over half an hour, not much progress has been made in your reading. If only this was the area of your interest, surely you wouldn’t be bored out of your mind, but well, it’s not.
“Why me,” you groan dramatically, throwing your head back against the backrest of the sofa.
It’s not like you didn’t expect it to be difficult – you did, actually – but it doesn’t make you feel any better now that you have to finally start working on it. Not to mention that you constantly complain about all the work you have to do, and this certainly doesn’t help your motivation.
“You don’t seem to be very into it," you can hear Jeno laughing from the bathroom.
He must have heard your whining all the way from there.
“No shit,” you scoff in the answer, as you roll your eyes good-naturedly.
Trying to work at your house proved to be impossible, as everything there distracted you: there was always something better to do than reading that goddamned book. When in the morning you video called Jeno to complain, he suggested coming over to study together, as he had an exam the day after tomorrow, and you agreed.
“We can motivate each other this way, you know,” he exclaimed with the sweetest of smiles, causing your heart to skip a beat.
That’s when you realized that you’re fucked. Desperately trying to escape one distraction, you’ve happily thrown yourself right into the muscled arms of another one. Maybe you should’ve thought about it some more before giving him a positive answer, but at that moment you were way too busy thinking about how pretty his brown eyes appear in that lighting.
“So, what exactly are you doing?”
Jeno’s voice makes you jump – lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice him approaching you.
“Reading, or rather trying to–,” you manage to say before you look up, and the words die on your lips.
He’s standing a meter or so away from you, a warm smile playing on his lips, as he’s waiting for your answer – at this moment it really hits you how fucked you actually are.
It’s all because of your tardiness – you’re not exactly the type to arrive on time, and Jeno is no stranger to that fact. There’s no wonder he simply assumed that he didn't need to be in a rush when he came back from his training – he thought you’d be late. This time, however, you arrived exactly on time, only to catch him still walking around in his sweaty gym clothes. A bit flustered with the turn of events, he asked if you mind giving him some time to clean up and change, and you, of course, agreed without a second thought. You were completely lost at this point, enchanted by this flustered mess of a man. You should’ve known better than to think that this is going to turn out fine, really.
“Trying, huh?” he chuckles, his long fingers pushing damp locks from falling into his eyes.
You don’t know where to look. Would be awkward if he caught you gaping at his muscled chest.
“Y–yeah, I’m trying really, really hard,” you answer rather nervously.
You’re trying to control yourself and not let your eyes wander, which is a crazy difficult task. From the corner of your eye, you can see droplets of water falling from his hair and rolling down his chest: slowly travelling down his muscled abdomen until they reach the waistband of his sweats and soak into the fabric. He’s saying something, but you can barely focus, as you’re too busy gaslighting yourself into ignoring how hot your best friend looks right now.
“You’re not listening to me, are you?”
“Pardon?” you question with an apologetic smile, trying your absolute best to ignore your dirty thoughts.
To be frank, falling for your best friend is, in your opinion, the worst possible option in terms of catching feelings for someone. You can’t even pinpoint when it happened and what exactly caused you to become infuriated with him. Was it his weird sense of humour and that joyful laugh of his? His respectful behaviour towards you? Or maybe it’s all about his handsome face? You can’t tell – all you know is that there’s something about Jeno that causes your brain to turn into a mush whenever you need it the most.
“This book must have tired you out more than I thought it would,” he chuckles good-naturedly, walking towards the table where his laptop is placed.
Moving some papers to the side, he settles comfortably on the chair, and then opens the device.
“You’re clearly out of it,” he adds over his shoulder with an amused smile, turning the laptop on.
You, on the other hand, are not as amused. You’re no stupid, you’re just stupidly in love with this irritatingly handsome man.
“Of course I am,” you say, tongue-in-cheek. “You really expect me to stay focused, while you’re walking around half-naked, huh? Might throw some t-shirt on, you’re distracting me, Jeno.”
Jeno turns around slightly, and stares at you, his brows furrowed: a perfect picture of disbelief. There’s something in his expression that you can’t exactly put your finger on, but it appears to be a hint of sadness, or even regret.
“Not that you have a bad sense of humour or something, but this joke isn’t funny at all.”
Now it’s your time to be surprised, as you blink quickly trying to process his words.
“I’m not joking, though,” you say, puzzled a bit by his reaction.
“You saw me without a t-shirt countless times already,” he hums, scratching his neck as if in wonder, but you know that in his case it’s a sign of embarrassment. “What’s the difference? I didn’t think you’d care that much.”
It’s your turn to furrow your brows now. It does affect you quite a lot, actually, he just doesn’t know that.
“So you think that it doesn’t affect me that you walk around me basically naked?”
“Please,” he scoffs, turning around back to his laptop to type the password in. “It’s not like you’d like to fuck me or something.”
Your mind goes blank for a second, the wave of heat immediately hitting your cheeks.
“What are you saying?” you chuckle nervously, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest.
Jeno glances over his shoulder, clearly not understanding the reason behind your awkward reaction. He clears his throat before adding:
“Doesn’t really matter what kind of attraction we’re talking about. It’s pretty obvious that you don’t think of me as someone attractive.”
First of all, you can’t believe your ears, and second of all, you’re starting to feel a little hysteric. You take a deep breath, and put your book to the side.
“You think I’m not attracted to you,” you say matter-of-factly, trying your best to keep the tone of your voice neutral.
“Exactly,” he shrugs in the answer, not even turning around, too busy checking something in his notes.
Your heavy sigh is a little dramatic, you have to admit, but you’re done, just done with this man. Either you’re an absolute pro at hiding your feelings, or he’s just a lost cause in terms of noticing what’s going on around him. You don’t really suspect yourself of being that good of an actress – you know very well that your self-control is in pretty bad shape when you’re around him.
“You’re such a fool, oh my god,” you groan helplessly, standing up from the sofa.
Two big steps is all it takes to reach him.
“Excuse me?” he dramatically turns around, clearly offended by your words.
A quiet gasp escapes his lips when he realizes that you’re now mere centimetres away from him, invading his personal space in a way that causes a shiver to run straight to his crotch. His breath hitches slightly when you gently grab him by the chin and tilt his head back so that he’s staring up at you.
“Look me right in the fucking eyes and say it again. Say that I don’t want to fuck you.”
Jeno opens his mouth but doesn’t say a single word. The longer his dark eyes bore into yours, the deeper the flush on his cheeks gets. When he licks his lips nervously, your stare drops unceremoniously for a second before you slowly raise your eyes to meet his gaze once again.
“Cat got your tongue?” you ask with a raised brow, your tone deeply amused.
He tries to shake his head, but your grip makes it almost impossible. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows audibly, and you don’t even try to stop yourself from touching it. The fingertips of your free hand caress his skin tenderly, and you can see that he’s barely breathing at this point.
“You see, Jeno,” you hum as your fingers move up his neck, brushing over his prominent jaw, down his neck to his collarbones and bare shoulders. “All this time I thought that I was so goddamn obvious that you purposely pretended not to notice my behaviour.”
“W–what?” he stutters out, his voice a bit higher than it usually is.
How the turn tables, really. You didn’t even do anything to him yet, but he’s already reacting in such an adorable manner. Jeno is truly delightful.
“Turns out that you simply can’t see shit, and that’s it. No other reason behind it except for obliviousness,” you scoff, shaking your head slightly.
“I–I don’t think I understand,” he murmurs, blinking innocently at you, his long eyelashes brushing his cheekbones.
“You think that I wouldn’t touch you even with the tip of my finger, no?”
This time he tries to nod, but once again the grip on his chin prevents him from doing so. It’d be too easy to answer this way – you want him to use his words, you want him to state clearly what he thinks and what he wants.
“Um, well, yes,” he answers then, the tone of his voice way less certain now.
You can’t help but huff a laugh in the answer. In the meantime, the fingers of your free hand comb through his still damp hair, and it truly feels marvellous to do so. You wanted to play with his hair for such a long time now, imagining more often than not about how he’d sound if you just pulled on them – so you decide to do exactly that.
“Think again then, babe.”
You let go of his chin, and grab a fistful of his locks, pulling his head back.
“Oh fuck,” Jeno whimpers in the answer, his gorgeous neck on full display now.
Once again, you have no idea where to look but for entirely different reasons than mere minutes ago. He’s just so stunning, and you can’t stop staring at him.
“You see, if I had the opportunity to do so, I’d have fucked you senseless plenty of times already,” you hum, your thumb grazing his lover lip teasingly. “I’d make you fucking scream my name.”
His breath hitches audibly, causing your core to clench deliciously. Seeing how responsive he is to your words, your actions, makes you hungry for more. You want him so badly.
“You can’t even imagine what I’d do to you if you just let me, Jeno. You make me go crazy,” you breathe out, leaning forward until your faces are mere centimetres apart. “All this time, I thought you’re not interested in me, and that’s why I never took the first step. I didn’t want to lose you.”
“I didn’t know,” he sighs, closing his eyes as your nails scratch his head gently. “You never reacted in any way to me, I just thought that you don’t see me that way.”
“Such fools, both of us,” you murmur, pressing your lips against his forehead.
A moment later you place another kiss between his eyebrows, then one on the tip of his nose, and on both of his eyelids. You’re dying to kiss every millimetre of his body.
“Do you want me to sit on your lap, Jeno?”
Your lips brush his when you whisper the question, and he opens his eyes, sending you a stare full of emotions. You can see the want in his dark eyes, clear as the day, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine.
“Yes, please,” he breathes out, his arms already reaching towards you to pull you closer.
As you settle on his thick thighs, his arms circle your waist tightly, holding you as close as he dares to. Judging by his carefulness, he’s still unsure of what’s going to happen next, but he’s clearly not opposed to whatever you’re planning to do. You can’t help but marvel over the wonderful feeling of being in his arms, your body pressed tightly against his. Your breast touching his bare chest, your crotch pressed against his, faces in such close proximity – you can barely think straight. In this position, you can feel his hardening cock through the fabric of his sweats: it’s not completely hard yet but clearly on the high road to be fully erect, and your mind is already in the gutter, thinking about all the possibilities.
“Such a nice lap to sit on,” you say with a smirk adorning your lips, your hips rocking ever so slightly against his.
There’s a mischievous spark in his eyes just before he says:
“Actually, there’s nothing that’s stopping you from settling yourself on them more often.”
Jeno might be flustered as hell right now, there’s no mistake about it, but that sure ain’t gonna stop his sarcastic side from showing. You can’t help but smile widely in the answer, knowing very well that he has a point now that you’re on the same page.
“Glad to know,” you say before gently pressing your lips against his.
You were imagining that first kiss countless times already, but your imagination can’t compare to the reality of his plushy lips moving against yours, the feeling of his strong arms pulling you as close as possible. At first, it’s delicate and slow, but it doesn’t take long for both of you to lose your resolve. The kisses become more hungry with time, all tongues and teeth, his hands wandering all over your body, your fingers in his hair. Soon you’re both completely breathless, and have no choice but to pull away. Your body feels way too hot, and there’s nothing you’d wish for more than to take off your clothes, to feel his skin right next to yours without any barriers.
“I wanted you for so long,” he rasps, panting heavily. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you when we weren’t together, and when we did, it was even worse because I couldn’t be with you the way I wanted.”
You kiss him again and again and again, grinding your hips against his already hard cock, making him moan into your lips. The friction created by the fabric, and the hardness of his shaft, sends little bolts of pleasure through your body. Jeno’s right hand slips underneath your t-shirt, his fingertips delicately tracing patterns on your skin, while his left hand lands on your thigh, moving up towards your butt and down again.
“Jeno,” you sigh, when his fingers brush your breast ever so slightly. “You’re such a tease.”
“Didn’t you already know that,” he answers with a broad smile, his hands touching you everywhere they can reach.
“I suppose I knew,” you chuckle in the answer, shaking your head slightly.
What a perfect combination: easily flustered, and such a sweet man, but with a sassy side, a little bratty even.
“One of the reasons I’m so attracted to you,” you add, your hand slipping into his hair to grab it once again, gentler this time.
“Another one is that gorgeous neck.”
Jeno’s laugh turns into a soft whimper, when you place a kiss just under his ear and start to slowly move down his neck, one kiss at a time. It makes you feels so good that you’re the one making him moan quietly right into your ear, causing his cock to twitch underneath you with such simple actions as kissing his neck, whispering sweet words into his ear.
“You’re such a pretty thing, you know,” you pant out, nibbling on his earlobe.
The way he smells drives you absolutely crazy, and you love the way his soft hair tickle your face ever so slightly. Gorgeous.
“God bless women’s bodies aren’t as traitorous as men’s, otherwise I’d have been utterly fucked a long time ago,” you say with a small chuckle, licking his skin as your fingers rake through his tangled locks.
“What?” he chokes out, his hands now clenched tightly on the fabric of your t-shirt, his breathing heavy.
“You can’t even imagine how aroused I can get just from observing you simply being yourself,” you murmur, peppering the skin of his neck with kisses. “Only I know how many times I’ve got off to the memory of you cooking a diner for me shirtless.”
“Seems like I should do that more often then,” he hums, placing both of his hands on your hips.
“Wonder what would taste better: my cooking or me.”
“Good question,” you laugh, your mind already being flooded with the images of Jeno cooking for you, and you licking tasty things off his skin.
You start to slowly but steadily rock your hips against his, searching for the best angle to get off. When you finally find it, a jolt of pleasure runs through your body, and you sigh his name softly.
“My name sounds so pretty when you say it,” he murmurs into your neck, his lips, tongue and teeth all over your skin.
“Since today, I’ll say it as often as you want me to,” you moan, your head falling back as he starts to massage your breast through the fabric of your t-shirt.
The sounds of moaning, panting and curses fill the room, as the humping becomes more and more aggressive, both of you getting closer and closer to your release. The seam in the front of your pants rubs onto your clit just the right way, especially with his hard cock pressed against it. It feels wonderful to finally be in such a situation with him.
“Fuck, I’m going to cum into my briefs because of you,” Jeno moans, but clearly he doesn’t mind that.
“Next time, I swear to god, I’m coming right into your pussy,” he pants into your ear.
The image that forms in your head pushes you over the edge, and you come hard. While shivers run through your body, Jeno holds you strongly, bringing you even closer as you lazily move your hips, riding your orgasm. You can’t tell for how long you’ve stayed like that, but you sure took your time.
“I think I’m the one whose underwear is ruined now,” you sigh into his neck, when the aftershocks die out, and you can feel your drenched panties in all their uncomfortable glory.
Jeno laughs softly, such a beautiful sound feeling your ears. The feeling of his thick biceps pressed on either side of your waist is certainly something else, and you know that in the future his arms will receive a lot of your attention.
“I’m not sorry at all, but I’ll happily help you take your panties off,” he says, his hands massaging your butt and thighs.
“And the rest of your clothes too, of course. Let’s not forget, I have a promise to keep,” he whispers into your ear, placing kisses all over your head.
You can feel your core clenching in delicious anticipation.
“Indeed, you’ve made a promise,” you answer, a smirk forming on your lips.
“And I promise that I’ll make you scream my name, Jeno baby.”
His cock twitches at that.
“Can’t wait.”
Copyright © 2020-2024 by byzantiumshades. All rights reserved.
252 notes · View notes
cat3ch1sm · 10 months
Note
I was wondering if you would do more writing for L. Would you write a NSFW with Dom!L including bondage?
⛪️~ hello, @incivilminds <33 here is your request!! I have done you so dirty dawg like this is actually so old… forgive me plsplspls💔💔💔💔 also GODDAMN this is long as shit what
also yeah, i haven’t been writing a lot for L lately, my bad y’all 😭 i will def be writing more death note soon
**✿❀ nsfw ahead! fem!reader,❀✿**
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It probably hadn’t even been a week since you had been captured, although it felt like it had been months. Vaguely, you recalled your wrists being wrenched behind your back mercilessly and a blindfold being tied roughly around your eyes. While you struggled vehemently against the chafing handcuffs that had been so harshly slapped around your wrists, someone, a man, had told you that you were under suspicion of being involved with Kira. Next thing you knew, you were tied up in a small, empty room, still unable to see or move with your body bound to a terribly uncomfortable metal board-like thing.
For a long time, you were scared out of your mind. For hours on end, you’d been interrogated by a garbled voice coming from somewhere in the room, and you hadn’t been able to give anyone any information. You were hardly allowed any bathroom breaks, and you were only given the bare minimum of food and water to keep you alive. However, despite the small amount of time you’d been captive, the situation you were in felt more hopeless every second. You were sleep-deprived, mentally drained from all the questions every hour of every day, your body was aching like hell from the position you’d been in for what seemed like ages, and you were always thirsty or hungry. On a number of occasions you’d fainted, only realizing it when you were awoken by a stern voice from some audio device in the room.
When you heard the familiar click of the microphone in the room, you had just begun to drift off again- sleeping was really all you could to in this predicament, and you weren’t really getting much of that either- it was hard to do so when you were literally tied to a board at 90 degrees and being watched every single second. And you already knew whoever had you captive now was tired of you asking to go to the bathroom every two seconds.
“Y/N.”
The stoic but demanding tone of whoever was speaking was something you were used to by now- but realizing that you were probably about to be interrogated ruthlessly again by this mechanical voice was almost too much, especially alongside being deprived of most of your senses for so long like this. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond, instead barely lifting your head from its loll on your chest.
“Good. You’re up. Now, tell me what you know about Kira.”
This again. You could almost feel your sanity slipping through your fingers.
You replied with an inaudible murmur, not even really knowing what you were saying yourself.
“Speak up. I can’t hear you.”
This time, you didn’t respond, and dropped your head again, an overwhelming sleepiness suddenly coming over you. Today, you just weren’t up for it- you couldn’t care less what anyone did to you.
There was an unexpected silence for a few seconds- you’d expected the voice to resume its distorted badgering the second you failed to reply. But when the voice sounded again, its tone wasn’t as stony as it had been previously.
“You seem tired. How are you doing?”
Before you could stop it, a dull, bitter laugh burst from your throat. “How am I doing?” Your voice was raspy from lack of hydration and to speak by itself hurt your throat. “Don’t patronize me.”
More silence. For a second you’d thought maybe you’d made the voice mad, but what it said next surprised you. “Watari. Get the girl some water.”
Next thing you knew, there was shuffling beside you, and then a hard object at your lips. You could feel the cold air from it flowing on your skin, and then Watari tilted the cup towards your lips, signaling you to drink. However, you kept your lips tightly shut- you didn’t want to accept any formalities from whoever was behind this.
Watari tried again, but this time you moved your head out of the way quite violently, feeling your hair dip into the water before your head hit the side of the cup, knocking it from Watari’s hand and spilling the cold liquid all over your body. It brought you a little pleasure to know that you were being an inconvenience, and now there was a mess to clean up. Besides that, now you might be allowed clean clothes.
Silence from Watari. You wondered if you’d made him mad.
“Ryuzaki, the girl doesn’t seem to be cooperating.”
You were a little surprised by Watari’s voice. You’d thought he was a man on the younger side, but instead he sounded rather elderly. You shuddered to yourself.
“Yes, I can see that,” came the tiny little voice through the speakers. It sounded like his or her teeth were clenched.
Ryuzaki. So that was your captor’s name. Even if you did get punished for your difficult behavior, at least you’d come away with a little victory.
“Feel free to depart, Watari,” Ryuzaki spoke again, the crackle of the feedback echoing through the room. “I’m going to come down there myself.”
He was coming down? You weren’t sure if you were anxious or eager. Perhaps he’d finally finish you off.
“Ryuzaki, are you sure?” Watari questioned.
“She can’t see me,” Ryuzaki replied coolly. “It’ll be fine. By this point, she needs a change of clothes, anyway- the water in fact contained a light dose of a chemical that would make the girl’s mind a little weaker and relax some of her tension, perhaps draw the truth out of her- and I can’t have it spilled on her clothes like it is now.”
Chemical? Draw the truth out of you? Any regrets about rejecting the water drained from your mind the instant Ryuzaki said that. Another tiny victory.
“Go ahead, Watari. I’ll be down shortly.”
Watari complied, and soon you heard footsteps depart from you and eventually vanish.
It was a little while before you heard anyone else again, and you waited anxiously, back aching against the cold, stiff board. Was he going to kill you? Or were you just in for more interrogation? At this point, you’d much rather Ryuzaki just end your misery. Even one more question and you’d go mad.
Despite your rising anxiety, you couldn’t ignore the pull of sleep weighing down your eyelids and blurring your vision. It had been ages since you’d slept properly, and even the small intervals of sleep you managed to get were constantly disrupted by the crackly voice over the intercom waking you up to ask you the same set of questions. Because of this, while waiting for Ryuzaki, you actually began to drift off- but just as you were about to really fall asleep, you heard footsteps echoing throughout the room.
The sound snapped you back to alertness, making you jolt. The footsteps grew louder and louder, growing closer, and then they stopped right in front of you. You froze, body completely stiff- Ryuzaki had arrived. However, he didn’t speak, which only made you more nervous.
After a few agonizing minutes, you at last heard a voice, allowing you to relax a bit- but it wasn’t much. However, the voice did surprise you- it was a young man, much unlike the crackly sound you’d been hearing for the time that you’d been here. There was a raspy edge to it as well- you could say confidently that it certainly wasn’t an ugly voice. In fact, it was sort of comforting in a twisted manner- it would have been worse if it was an old man watching you this entire time.
“Mr. Matsuda, Aizawa,” Ryuzaki commanded, “turn off the cameras and the audio.”
What?
The two men Ryuzaki had addressed seemed to have a similar reaction as yours. “Huh? L- I mean, Ryuzaki, that’s nuts! This is an interrogation!” came a protesting voice rather loudly through the microphone, the feedback making you flinch. It sounded like a much younger man’s voice, younger than Ryuzaki.
There was a brief pause before another, more mature-sounding voice came through the speaker. “Yeah- Ryuzaki, we trust you, but is that something you really want to do?”
“I want to talk to our suspect alone.” Ryuzaki continued calmly, unfazed by either of the men’s protests. “Matsuda, please turn off the camera and the audio.”
This couldn’t be good at all. Now you were almost certain Ryuzaki was going to kill you. Why else would he want the audio and video off? He couldn’t possibly be letting you go.
Matsuda sighed. “Okay, Ryuzaki, if you say so.” There was a click, soon followed by a second one, and the feedback finally silenced.
You let out an involuntary whimper through your gag. Now you were really alone, and with the blindfold you only had your fate to ponder. Was this it?
You felt Ryuzaki move closer to you, and you bit down on your gag, anticipating his next move- but to your surprise, you felt slender fingers grasp your blindfold and undo it, the metal headpiece falling from your face.
Instantly, you were blinded by the light, and a series of shapes and light exploded in front of your eyes. Flinching, you automatically shut your eyes again, completely overwhelmed with sensory input given you’d been blindfolded for days on end with no break whatsoever. You didn’t even get to see your captor’s face. However, you still felt when he removed the dirty gag from your mouth, the foul taste of the rag damp with your saliva finally leaving.
You couldn’t help the giant gulp of air you took right after Ryuzaki removed the gag, having had a lot of your airway obstructed for almost a week. For quite a while, you just coughed and gasped, making up for lost breath while Ryuzaki simply stood a short distance in front of you and watched.
When your coughing spell finally ceased and you were able to see for the most part, you at last slowly lifted your head from its loll on your chest- coming face to face with your captor at last. And to say the least, you were rather caught off guard.
He was fairly tall, a height you would expect for a man about the age he looked, but that was about the only thing conventional about him. You’d thought it would be a more refined man, polished and cold and calculating, like the head of an organized crime group. However, you were instead met with a pale face with wide, sunken-in gray eyes, a pallor over his entire body and his black hair wildly arranged all over his head. Along with that, he had on a mere white T-shirt and baggy jeans- and no shoes!- rather than the more debonair attire you’d expected him to wear. Pretty much everything about the man was in contrast to what you had thought him to be, and you couldn’t suppress the shocked expression that came across your face.
Ryuzaki tilted his head at you upon seeing your expression. “Surprised?”
You said nothing, instead recoiling back against the metal board. No matter what he looked like, this was still your kidnapper who had held you hostage for five days.
“No need to look so nervous.” Ryuzaki shrugged nonchalantly. It was as if he’d done this a million times. “I’m not down here to harm you.”
“You aren’t?” It just popped out. You didn’t know you remembered how to speak words other than the same mantra of “Yes,” “No,” or “I don’t know” in reply to Ryuzaki’s endless interrogation questions.
“Your enunciation is surprisingly good for someone who’s had a gag in their mouth for the past several days,” Ryuzaki remarked casually, his eyes drifting from yours down to your lips. He placed his hands behind his back and slowly circled the metal board you were bound to, inspecting you closely. Revolted, you shrank against the metal as much as possible, trying to avoid his scrutinizing gaze.
Finally, Ryuzaki came back around in front of you. “Your tense body language would suggest that you’re rather wary of me.” He paused, inching closer to you still. “I’m not surprised.”
“No shit,” you managed, giving the detective the most beseeching glare you could.
Ryuzaki tilted his head at you. “Well, it’s nice to see you still have at least a bit of fight in you, hm?” Then, all of a sudden, he brought his face directly up to yours, his wide gray eyes burning into yours and startling you. You recoiled as much as possible, but found yourself unable to break away from his gaze. “Now, tell me- what? Do you know? About Kira.” His voice was just a low hiss, and you felt your heart pound in your chest and your breath speed up. Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you retorted, “I told you already- I don’t know anything.”
Ryuzaki pulled back after hearing those words, his expression going back to it’s normal stoic self. He didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Alright. Since you don’t seem to be cooperating, I suppose I’ll have to take on another tactic to get you to talk.” Ryuzaki turned away and vanished around a corner for a moment, and for a brief moment you felt scared that he was going to pull out something like a knife or a taser to torture information out of you. But when the detective reappeared, he had something you definitely weren’t expecting him to come out with.
“A vibrator?” you sputtered, unable to contain your disbelief. Ryuzaki didn’t seem rattled by your outburst at all, only fiddling with the device in his hand before looking back up to address you.
“I assume you were expecting me to emerge with some… torture device of some sort. But when it comes to these things, I find pleasure is a much more effective method of interrogation,” Ryuzaki explained, approaching you with the vibrator. “Since you won’t talk, I’ll just have to make you. Now, stay still for me so I can get these clothes out of the way.” Ryuzaki kneeled to the ground and picked up a knife, making you jump, but he addressed you again. “Don’t worry. I just need to take off your clothes without undoing your restraints.”
This helped your nerves a little bit, but not really. Still, you figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to fight him while he had the knife so close to your skin. Ryuzaki held you around the waist with one hand to keep your body still while he dragged the knife down the raggedy white garment you had on, slicing the cloth in half and allowing it to fall from your body effortlessly. You flinched when you felt the cold air hit your skin, but as your body was exposed, you noticed something odd.
“Ah. Judging by the look on your face, I assume you’ve noticed that you’re a little… messy between the legs.”
You looked up at Ryuzaki abruptly. You were indeed unusually wet, despite hardly being aroused- although even when you were you normally weren’t this wet. “What did you do?”
Ryuzaki’s tone was indifferent, as always. “I had a feeling that when I gave you the chemical in the drink that you spilled that you would resist. However, I was prepared. When you were asleep earlier today, I managed to give you the aphrodisiac anyway.” He paused for a second. “However… I think I may have given you slightly more than what was needed to stimulate your erogenous zones, so forgive me.” Ryuzaki bent back down so he was on his knees on the ground with his head level with your crotch. “I’ll ask you one more time, Y/N, before I touch you. What do you know about Kira?”
You bit your lip, legs squirming a bit, but didn’t reply. Ryuzaki waited for your reply, but when he saw that you weren’t going to offer him anything, he turned the vibrator in his hand on and brought it to your exposed clit, making you let out a whimper and try and close your legs.
“Ah, ah, ah- no use in struggling. Your legs are bound, remember?” Ryuzaki reminded you airily, circling the vibrator around your clit lightly. The pleasure making your knees weak made you almost glad that you were leaned against the metal board- his aphrodisiac had been very effective, apparently, because even though Ryuzaki was being quite gentle you were already wriggling and moaning.
“This vibrator does have higher settings, you know,” Ryuzaki informed you. “And I must want you, I can do this all day.” He had the ghost of a smile on his face when he said this, and you knew he wasn’t bluffing. As if to make a point, he hit a button on the vibrator, and you instantly felt when the vibrations increased, your breath hitching as your back arched. “There’s no point in denying that you know anything about Kira, so why don’t you just skip the hassle and tell me what you know?”
You found it difficult to respond with the sensation from the vibrator taking over your senses, but you still managed to say something. “He- isn’t from Japan. He lives in- ah!”
Ryuzaki pressed the vibrator harder against your sensitive clit, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Don’t bother lying. I conducted an experiment aged ago that verified that Kira is in fact Japanese. Try again. And it would be appreciated if you didn’t lie this time.”
Your breathing was heavy and your body flushed, your juices spilling out onto the tips of Ryuzaki’s fingers. God, you wished he hadn’t drugged you, because the pleasure was already almost overwhelming. “Fuck- fine, he is Japanese.”
His tone was hard. “Didn’t I just tell you that I know that already? Why don’t you share with me identifying details about his identity. Try his age, appearance, birthday, or the school he goes to. Are you not a high school senior? Have you noticed anybody that stands out in particular?”
You scoffed. “Why would Kira be in high school? What high school kid has time to commit mass murders like this?”
Wrong answer. Ryuzaki turned up the vibrator higher still and dragged it down your dripping slit until it was positioned at your hole. Slowly, he slid the top of the vibrator inside of you with a very wet sound and began pumping it agonizingly slowly, up and down.
You felt your legs immediately begin to tremble, feeling your own arousal slide down your thighs. With every thrust of the vibrator you let out a whimper, squirming like crazy but unable to escape as Ryuzaki placed one hand on your thigh to still you a bit. Your whole lower body throbbed with arousal and pleasure.
“Ah- please, Ryuzaki-“
“Please? Please, what?” Ryuzaki queried, seemingly not affected at all by how needy you clearly were. “Do you want to orgasm? Is that what it is, Y/N?”
You whimpered and nodded, still squirming and moaning with the vibrator moving inside you. Ryuzaki kept his pace slow and steady, making sure to drag it out as much as possible. You didn’t know how this could feel so amazing and yet awful at the same time, your peak just within reach but escaping every time you were close enough. And you knew that Ryuzaki knew this.
“I’ll let you come all you’d like if you just give me the information I want to know,” Ryuzaki told you plainly. “I’m listening.”
You didn’t want to give Ryuzaki the satisfaction, but god, did the vibrator feel absolutely amazing going in and out of your soaking hole like this- and the aphrodisiac just made you more needy.
“Oh… oh, fuck, mmm, okay- please, Ryuzaki, stop moving the-“
“Oh, is the pleasure too much for you? You are indeed very wet…” Ryuzaki finally paused his movements with the vibrator, and despite the ache you felt in your entrance for more, you were finally able to answer Ryuzaki properly for the most part.
You let out a shaky breath, legs shaking. “I don’t know his first name, but his last name is Yagami. We’re the top students in our class, and one day when we were studying together he told me he was Kira.”
Ryuzaki paused for a moment. “Hm. You don’t seem to be lying this time.” He peered up at your flushed, glistening face before looking back down at the vibrator moist with your juices. Muttering to himself, he said, “Hm, I was right- I did dose you with too much of the aphrodisiac…” Regardless, he slipped the vibrator back inside of you, making you let out a broken moan as he pumped it in and out. “Good girl. Now answer one more question for me.”
You were trembling again, your walls squeezing around the vibrator. Your thighs were wet and sticky now as you nodded, trying to stifle the lewd sounds leaving your lips.
“Alright. How does Kira kill?”
This question made your heart skip a beat- revealing the answer, depending on what Ryuzaki did with it, could be very incriminating and have major implications for mankind as a whole. You hesitated, and Ryuzaki noticed, stopping the movements of the vibrator yet again.
“Go on,” Ryuzaki prompted, waiting expectantly. The vibrator was just centimeters away from your throbbing sex, and you could hear the vibration from beneath you.
Shit. Were you really so desperate that you’d give away something like this?
Apparently so. You wanted to blame it on the aphrodisiac, but you knew you couldn’t do that this time.
“You… won’t believe me, but… there’s something called a Death Note. Whenever you write someone’s name in it, that person dies. I don’t really know all the details, but… that’s how he kills.”
Ryuzaki seemed actually startled by this information, but he didn’t question it, so he knew you weren’t lying. He quickly covered up his surprise with his usual mask of indifference, waiting a few moments before speaking again.
“Oh. Alright, then. I’ll have to retrieve more details later, but for now that will suffice. You seem to have given me all the information you have.”
You didn’t reply, but your back was arched, your pelvis close to L’s head.
Ryuzaki looked back up all of a sudden. “Oh. Right. I suppose it’s only fair of me to let you orgasm.”
You were relieved, as the ache in your pussy was becoming too much to bear. To your surprise, though, Ryuzaki turned the vibrator off and set it on the ground beside him. But before you could be confused about it, he leaned straight down to your sex, the tip of his nose resting just above it, and began to slide his warm tongue along your clit, stopping in between licks to plant sucking kisses along your dripping cunt.
Your legs weakened instantly, and you rode Ryuzaki’s tongue as best as you could strapped to the metal board. The heat and wetness from his mouth felt better than you could have ever imagined, and as you approached your climax, your moans faded into whimpers and broken whines of Ryuzaki’s name. He wrapped his lips around your swollen clit and sucked it slowly, gently, and slipped two slender fingers inside of your sopping hole as well, pumping them back and forth like he did the vibrator.
You came mere minutes later, legs quivering violently and breathing heavily. With a moan of Ryuzaki’s name, you finished in his mouth, spilling from the corners of his lips and running down his chin as he peered up at you through his unkempt black hair. He licked all of your cum off of your thighs, running his tongue up and down the length of your thighs and making you shiver at the feeling.
When Ryuzaki was done, he pulled away from your aching and overstimulated cunt before getting back to his feet with the vibrator in hand while you were still trying to catch your breath and still your trembling thighs.
Before you could react, the detective leaned in and kissed you gently on the lips, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You shuddered as you felt your own cum slide down your chin, and Ryuzaki pulled away. “I appreciate you giving me this information. Watari will be down to provide you with a new garment shortly. It may be a while longer before I allow you to leave, but this will be quite helpful.”
And with that, he was gone before you could even answer.
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lukesaprince · 10 months
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Rich Part 9
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Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. Where y/n and Harry have a confrontation and you get an insight into the people trying to pull them apart.
Warning: none. some dirty talk and mentions of sex. Overthinking and ignoring feelings
This is an age-gap romance, do not read if you don’t like it.
Word count: 14k+
Author’s note: I so wanted this to be a complete chapter for their final week together, however I just have not been able to get it all done so I've had to split it into two. I hope you enjoy a plot based chapter though! It sets up a lot for the next one... Happy reading!
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2 Weeks Ago
“Happy birthday, Harry” Tracey smiled, cupping his face before leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I thought you’d approach me straight away after my present. But I guess you were too preoccupied being the birthday boy for little ol’ me” she pulled away and let her hand drag down his chest.
He looked absolutely scrumptious, and she had been eyeing him all night. As expected, Tracey had to wait in a goddamn line just to see the birthday boy. But it was worth it when a yummy English god was waiting at the end of it.
“It’s tacky to open birthday presents in front of everyone, Tracey. I’m not five anymore” he replied dryly. He appeared completely uninterested in her, just like he always did. But she knew she’d crack him, especially with the birthday present she gave him. If he didn’t like her after that then he truly was blind.
Tracey never did judge someone on whether they were blind or not…
She loved his dry humour. He was a charmer when he wanted to be, but his sarcasm and dry humour were a real turn on for her. All Warren did was tell dad jokes and it made her want to stab knives in her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear them anymore.
The fact that Harry was pretending that he didn’t know about the polaroids only egged her on. He was teasing her, and she loved it. God, did she love a man that was playful like that.
“No silly, the one I sent with your lasagne on Wednesday. I gave it to y/n, so I know you got it” she let out a giggle and rolled her eyes playfully, fiddling with her hair.
Harry had a blank expression on his face and a look of confusion flashed in his eyes before they scanned the room, seemingly looking for someone. She hated how he seemed so distracted, and when he became her lover, she’d make sure he was more attentive to her. For now, though, she’d give him a pass since it was his birthday after all, and there was a lot happening around the room.
“Look, Tracey, I had a lot of things delivered Wednesday. I don’t know what you’re talking about” he ran a hand through his hair and turned back to look at Tracey.
Now Tracey was properly confused. She gave the polaroids to you and told you specifically to give them to Harry, yet why was he acting like he had no idea what she was talking about? You were a trustworthy girl, so she knew you would’ve given them to him. You were sweet and well-spoken and every time you babysat her kids you left her house cleaner than when you arrived.
So, this just didn’t make sense.
“The polaroids” she whisper-shouted, stepping closer so only he would hear it over the loud music. His brows furrowed and he looked away from her again, this time with more purpose. His eyes found you in the crowd and when she followed his eyeline right to you, irritation filled her entire body.
Oh, so you didn’t give him the polaroids then? Why else would he look so confused then look right at you instead of her? Tracey was starting to get real pissed off that he had been so distracted this entire conversation, and now he was looking at you across the fucking room, more than her.
“Oh. Right. Wasn’t very impressed. Now, if you’ll excuse me” he barely sent her another glance before he slid past her, careful not to touch her then marching off. She let out a large gasp and felt her chest tighten in hurt and anger all at the same time.
“What the fuck?” she gasped to herself, following Harry with her eyes so she could see where he was going.
Tracey dolled up for those polaroids. Got her hair and makeup done, bought new lingerie just for Harry and then the fucker turns around and tells her that he wasn’t impressed!? Wasn’t very impressed? It felt like the ultimate blow to her ego, especially since her body wasn’t the same after having three kids.
She had a mommy makeover as her final push present, but even after that her body wasn’t the same as it was pre-baby. Having Harry say that he wasn’t impressed by her vulnerability hurt like hell, and there was no way she was going to let him say something like that without giving him a piece of her mind.
She immediately took off in the same direction as him. She had lost him in the crowd and wasn’t sure where he had gone, but she headed to the kitchen first since it was closest. The entire room was open planned, so it wasn’t hard to spot his tall figure in the kitchen. The caterers had taken over the majority of his kitchen and most people were crowded around the cake or bar, so the kitchen itself wasn’t full of a lot of party goers.
She watched as he seemed to be slightly hunched over something behind the island bench. But she couldn’t see what it was exactly. As she went to confront him and give him a piece of her angry mind, she noticed him straighten up and start to look at something in his hands.
When she recognised the little white envelope that she hand-delivered to y/n be fished out of the bin her entire body froze up. Harry opened the envelope and had a quick look through like it was the first time he had seen them then quickly shoved it into his back pocket.
Oh that little bitch.
Her plans of confronting him quickly disappeared altogether, and she found herself spinning around and beginning to storm over to you instead. But when she noticed Harry beelining in the same direction she stopped herself and hid a little from his view. She watched as he walked straight up to you and grabbed your drink from your hand, putting it down onto the bar top and saying something to you.
He looked irritated for some reason that Tracey couldn’t quite figure out, his jaw tense and body language rigid. When she saw him press his chest into your back and start snapping at the boy you were talking to Tracey’s blood started to boil. It wasn’t a friendly action, nor was it something a boss would do to their employee.
From your reaction alone, she instantly knew that you didn’t give him the polaroids on purpose because you were fucking him. The little innocent girl next door was fucking her neighbour, someone who could easily have been her dad.
As she watched Harry practically drag you through the crowd and out of the room, seemingly unaware of her presence, she followed closely behind. It was easy to follow the two of you when you were too engrossed in each other to notice anyone else.
You two stopped in front of the guest bathroom and Tracey made sure she was well hidden as Harry looked around for any people. She didn’t know what possessed her in that moment, but Tracey’s mind always went to the bigger picture. She was pissed off at many things in this situation, jealous as well, but none of that mattered when her phone was right there in her hand and you two were sneaking around like teenagers.
She quickly snapped a few pictures of the two of you, getting the entire process of Harry pushing you inside the bathroom and closing the door behind the two of you. There wasn’t a real plan just yet of what she’d use those pictures for, but she knew they’d come in handy the more she thought about the situation.
Not wanting to hear anything that would only make her sick with jealousy, she headed straight to the bar. Tracey’s mind started spinning with ideas and she quickly came to multiple conclusions in a short amount of time.
Harry wasn’t unimpressed by the polaroids because he had never seen them before, not because he wasn’t interested in her. She still had a shot, even if he was sleeping with the little bitch next door.
She was going to make sure that he was hers, and she already had multiple ideas in how to accomplish that. And
You were going to pay for what you had done.
“Good Evening Tracey” Ethan drawled, sliding his hand along the back of her waist as he joined her at the bar, leaning his hip against it as he faced her and flashed a charming smile.
Ethan and Tracey had been having an affair for a couple months now. Ethan caught a glimpse of her in just this short pair of denim shorts and a bikini top when he was leaving Harry’s house one day. She must’ve been coming home from the beach because her hair was still damp.
He could tell she was around the same age as him, but she looked in her late 20s at best and her body would’ve had to be the hottest thing he had ever seen. He was so momentarily stunned by her beauty that he barely registered her husband and three kids with her until one of them yelled out a ‘mumm’ and she picked him up with a smile on her face.
He was immediately dejected at the fact that he found the woman of his dreams and couldn’t have her. Tracey made eye contact with him, then noticed the house he was coming out of and immediately pawned her kid off to her husband so he could take them inside the house.
Anyone coming out of Harry’s house had to be close to him since he was such a private guy. She had been on the prowl for Harry for years so this could be her opportunity. And he wasn’t bad looking, in fact he was actually very good looking.
They had a conversation; one Ethan can barely remember because he was too busy staring at her boob job and somehow a few weeks later they were meeting in a hotel and having sex. From then they’d meet once a week, sometimes more and hook up.
He was proper obsessed with her.
He didn’t have any kids or anyone else in his life so he spoiled her with everything he could afford, which unfortunately wasn’t a lot. Ethan had a good paying job, a fantastic paying job even. He had built up his career over the years and was proud of his resume and contacts in the business world.
At the ripe age of 43, Ethan should have a lot to show for his career. A nice house, a car, a family even, a healthy savings account. He had 2/4 of those things; a nice heritage-listed home that was passed down in his family that he thankfully doesn’t need to pay a mortgage on, and a nice car that he outright bought a couple years ago.
The crippling gambling addiction he had, however, left him with barely anything to scrape by on.
Nearly every cent of his fortnightly pay check either funds his gambling addiction or helps pay off debts that he owes. He has credit cards on credit cards and uses them instead of his job to fund his lifestyle. Those very same credit cards were the ones he used to buy Tracey pretty lingerie sets and other gifts to keep her around.
It’s frankly embarrassing to be 43, single and with so much debt he’s practically drowning in it. It’s something he hasn’t told many people aside from a financial advisor who only recommended that he sell his house, pay off his debts and start fresh.
With his same income and credit rating he probably wouldn’t have even been accepted for a loan, but he could rent or move in with a friend and save up for a couple years to buy something outright.
That only worked if he got rid of his gambling problem and was willing to completely change his lifestyle. But now that Tracey was in his life, he simply refused to live lesser. He didn’t want to be middle class, he wanted to be upper class.
Although they weren’t in a relationship, Ethan had fallen head over heels in love with Tracey. He didn’t care that she had kids or a husband because he knew the truth about her relationship with Warren and he wanted to care for her and give her the life she deserved.
He just needed money. He just needed to cut back on gambling (which he already had made major improvements in) and 100k, maybe even 90 to pay off a chunk of his debts and get to a stable financial position.
When he looked at someone like Harry, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of all his achievements.
Harry was four years younger and yet had more money than Ethan could ever dream of. Despite being four years behind in life, he had a higher-paying job than Ethan and had managed to turn his salary into hundreds of thousands of dollars. Harry’s net worth was in the millions based on property alone and that was something Ethan could never achieve.
The thing about Harry too, was that he had no issue flaunting his wealth. He wore suits worth thousands of dollars, drove expensive cars and was able to switch them out from a garage Ethan had been to many times. He could take time off work and travel for a year without making a dent in his bank account if he wanted, and he got the hottest women in the entire world in his bed.
Harry could get models, socialites, influencers, married women, anyone he wanted to sleep with him with little effort.
Ethan never had issues finding people to sleep with, but quite often if it was between him or Harry the woman would pick Harry time and time again. If they picked Ethan, then by the time Ethan messaged them again Harry had already slept with them and ruined his chances.
It fucking irked him that’s what it did. For years it didn’t bother Ethan that much because Harry lived in London. He only heard of Harry’s career and life over the phone or visits every couple years. When Harry moved to Melbourne though, everything changed.
Yes, Harry managed to get Ethan a higher paying job than his previous one, but now he was working with him every fucking day and having to listen to his instructions and do as he said. Ethan was high up, but nowhere near Harry’s level so even though they worked different departments, Harry still had seniority.
Now Ethan had to see his nice suits every morning, hear the sexy sounds of his car engine every night, drive by properties or businesses Harry invested in.
Even the club wasn’t Ethan’s anymore.
Now that Harry owned a third of it, he acted like the fucking king every time he went there. He’d get first pick in the area he wanted to go, the drinks he wanted, hell Harry even had a private lounge and playroom untouched by anyone else. Ethan didn’t fucking get that, and he went more often than Harry did.
The more time Ethan spent working with Harry, the longer his jealousy and anger brewed. He kept it all inside of course, but it was bubbling, and it became something that was on his mind every single day.
Ethan was sick of being broke and he was sick of letting Harry be the rich and successful one in the friendship group. It had gotten to the point where Ethan wished Harry would just move back to where he came from to give him some fucking peace and allow Ethan one day where he didn’t feel inferior.
He just needed something that put him above Harry and the more he thought about it, the more of a good idea taking something of Harry’s sounded. It didn’t make him feel guilty, or like he was betraying his friend because Harry had more money than a person would ever need in a lifetime. Sparing a little wouldn’t hurt. Then he’d feel just a little bit of how Ethan felt every fucking day.
Ethan thought of so many ways to just get a little piece of what Harry had; property, stocks, money. Anything. He’d take it and turn it into something amazing, something 10 times better than Harry could ever do so he had one fucking thing that Harry didn’t. But how was he going to achieve that?
With a background in finance, Ethan knew that he couldn’t do anything suspicious. Harry had fantastic lawyers so Ethan couldn’t just take the money or forge a document claiming that Harry signed over stocks or property. He couldn’t steal it or go through the business to do it either, so what was he meant to do?
He had to get creative.
The issue plagued his mind for months and in the end, Ethan thought that even blackmail might be a good choice, but that idea quickly left his head as soon as it entered it. Harry truly didn’t give a flying fuck about what other people thought of him and he didn’t have anyone that mattered to him, not in the country anyway so blackmail just wouldn’t work.
So Ethan was at a complete loss, and he had settled back into his normal routine of being completely fucked in the ass with debt. It wasn’t until Harry’s birthday party that things started to take a turn for the better, and a solid plan started to form.
When he happened to see you two run out to Harry's car and disappear into the night, he wasn’t really sure what he was witnessing. He knew you two were friends, and Harry always spoke so highly of you so it could’ve been an innocent drive. Ethan would’ve known if you two were sleeping together because it’s something that Ethan and Harry have always shared with each other, and as far as he knew, you weren’t.
When you two disappeared for ages and Harry’s car was missing from the driveway, him and Will called to get an ETA. Harry never said he was with you, which Ethan found odd, but he kept his mouth shut as he tried to figure out what was going on. Out of curiosity and for investigative purposes, Ethan grabbed himself a drink and went upstairs to watch you two come home.
He timed it well because he was only scrolling on his phone for five minutes before he saw Harry’s car enter the driveway. He didn’t drive in all the way and parked before he was inside the gate, another thing Ethan found weird. From Ethan’s spot upstairs he could still see clearly into Harry’s car. It was a bit dark, but for the most part he saw everything.
From Harry snorting cocaine of your tits to the firm kiss he gave you before he drove properly into his driveway, to the way he opened your car door and held your hand as the two of you snuck back into the house. It was like Ethan was watching his non-existent son come home after sneaking out of the house rather than his 39-year-old best friend.
He had never ever seen Harry like that with a woman before, not even with Mel before the cheating scandal came out. The fact that it was you of all people as well, shook Ethan to his very core. And well, he just had to tell Tracey right away.
Tracey had a liking for gossip and Ethan wanted to do anything that she liked. She had always expressed how much she disliked Harry. From the moment they started sleeping together she criticised everything Harry did which only made Ethan fall faster for her.
Finally. A gorgeous woman not falling for Harry’s charm and money.
He swore the moment Tracey said that she didn’t get the hype around Harry and called him a ‘walking STD’ he fell in love with her. It was only the second time they slept together yet it came so naturally to Ethan he didn’t care.
He had a plan forming in his head about this whole situation, but he knew that Tracey would know more about this than he did. Even though she hated Harry, she knew everything that went on in the neighbourhood.
Seeing a kiss and drugs being done wasn’t enough because it simply could’ve been a birthday present Harry obtained for himself. He had never expressed interest in you before and Ethan knew that the age gap would only fuel Harry’s ego if he managed to get you in his bed. So before Ethan got too ahead of himself and came to a conclusion about the whole situation, he needed to speak to Tracey.
“Hi” Tracey responded dryly, skulling her martini before putting the glass back down. “Another” she demanded, speaking to the same boy that you and Harry were speaking to earlier.
“I’ve got something that’ll peak your interest, baby” Ethan smirked, eyeing her up and down. God she looked good. That little dress of hers was absolutely killing him and he hoped it would lift her mood and get into another mood, one that resulted in his balls being drained.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Her mouth twitched in a smile, hoping he had a new bracelet or something flashy to make her feel better. She loved a good scheme but she was still pissed off.
“I just saw y/n and Harry come back from a drive” he leaned in closer so his mouth was right near her ear. “They looked a lot more than friends to me. Know anything about that?”
“Oh really?” She smirked, finally looking at Ethan while sipping her new drink that the bartender quickly made for her. This was just perfect. Not only had she seen something but so did Ethan, and Ethan did everything she told him. This would work very very nicely. “What were they doing?”
He licked his lips as his eyes connected to her mouth. “He snorted cocaine of her tits and kissed her. Haven’t seen him do that to someone for years. Bastard’s become so boring lately”
Ethan expected Tracey to be surprised, especially if she didn’t know about this. But her face barely moved at the information which told him everything he needed to know. She already knew. Even though on the inside her belly was swirling with jealousy at the fact that he got closer to your tits before hers, her face stayed completely neutral.
“Why are you so blasé? Do you know something?” He asked eagerly, wanting to get as much information as possible.
Tracey looked around to see if anyone was watching before she got her phone from her purse and unlocked it, bringing up one of the photos she took of you and Harry. She handed the phone to Ethan casually while taking another sip, watching his eyes widen and a grin emerge on his face.
“They’ve slept together more than once”
“How do you know?” He asked, looking up and down between her and the photos; all showing the tight grip Harry had on her waist and the lust surrounding the couple.
“Y/N has never had a boyfriend and she’s like a baby deer, nervous and jittery around anyone new. There’s no way he’d be touching her like that if they hadn’t slept together already” she shrugged, trying not to act like she wasn’t reeling inside and wanted to to kill you.
Well isn’t that interesting. Harry never sleeps with anyone more than once, not after Mel and the shit show that was. So the fact that you two had been sleeping together multiple times meant something. You were probably just a good fuck to be honest, god knows Ethan wouldn’t let you out his sight if he got you in his bed. But it meant that there was leverage there… somewhere.
“Hmm. I think with a little more investigation we could have something great here, don’t you think baby? Something that’ll help us get away?” He smirked.
Tracey was the only person other than his financial advisor that he told about his money issues. Once he fell in love with her, he felt compelled to tell her. It felt morally wrong to keep something like this from the love of your life. Even though it was the most nerve-wracking thing he had ever done, it was the right move because she still supported him.
As long as he could keep up with the lifestyle she wanted, she didn’t care about his financial issues. He knew then, that she loved him back even if she never said it.
From that moment he always spoke about his dreams of taking her away; running away from their responsibilities and just moving somewhere foreign to live a life of luxury. He told her all about his ideas for Harry too, which she seemed to love because she hated him.
This could be their big break, with a little more time and effort.
“I agree” she smirked, her mind going straight to using these photos to separate Harry and his little whore. Tracey told Ethan whatever he wanted to hear, and she was glad she stuck around and focused on the big picture of getting close to Harry instead of leaving when he told her he was broke.
Making a plot for revenge wasn’t the way she thought she’d get Harry to be hers, but if that’s what it took then she’d happily go along with Ethan’s plan. Her name would stay clean if she played the part of a supportive mistress.
“Now come on. I need you to fuck me” she finished her drink and put it back on the bar before sliding past him and giving him a look over her shoulder. Ethans mouth was only good for one thing and that was between her legs.
He knew that look all too well and followed along like an eager puppy to wherever she wanted to have a quickie. It was risky hooking up like this, but Warren was nowhere to be seen and with the excitement of a potential plan against Harry in play, all Ethan cared about was celebrating with his lover.
//
Present
//
By the time you and Harry got back to the car, you had spent hours inside that shop.
After making you cum on his fingers, he took the time to help you get redressed before you both left the dressing room and were greeted by Chloe. The entire thing made you flustered, but she acted like she saw and heard nothing and simply invited you two to sit on the couch while she showed you the other lingerie sets Harry requested.
You were barely containing your embarrassment and were trying to hide yourself in the side of Harry’s body. The champagne helped a little, but things only got worse when she brought in all the other items you two had picked up during your visit.
When you were walking around the show room with Harry it didn’t feel like you had added a lot to your ‘cart’, but seeing it all laid out on a cart that she brought into the room felt very confronting and slightly overwhelming. All these items would either be used together, or by yourself and the thought of that and knowing that Chloe knew was riling you up in all sorts of ways.
“Don’t be so embarrassed, love. Weren’t embarrassed before when you were coming ‘round my fingers” Harry tutted, a cheeky grin playing on his lips as his fingers patted your hip. You were sat right beside him, tucked into his side with his arm around your waist and hand laid casually on your hip.
He was warm and smelt heavenly and you were barely containing yourself around him. You were also trying to burrow yourself into him to try and hide from Chloe. She wasn’t judging, nor was she acting anything but professional, but the entire experience was kind of mortifying. You had never experimented with any of this, and now all the tools that were going to be used on you were just there for Harry and a stranger to see.
“Shut up” you mumbled, blushing and fisting his suit jacket in your hand. He rose a brow and pinched your hip as a warning, your body tensing at the pain.
“Be good” He didn’t need to say anything else for you to become pliant in his hands and sit silent for the rest of Chloe’s presentation. It didn’t last much longer, and just like the show room nothing she went through had any prices associated with them.
“Was that all Mr. Styles?” she asked. Harry nodded and stood up, holding his hand out to help you off the couch. You grabbed it and stood, letting go so his hand could fall at your waist.
“Yes. Have it all delivered today and add it to my tab” he instructed.
“Of course, enjoy your night” she smiled, looking at you briefly but mostly focusing her attention on Harry.
“You too” he flashed a charming smile before guiding you out of the room by your waist. Your brows furrowed in confusion, curious about how this whole ‘tab’ thing works.
“You don’t need to pay for your tab now?” your eyes flickered around the lit showroom as you approached the double doors to get out.
Harry couldn’t exactly tell you the truth, not just yet. You two hadn’t even played with anything he ‘bought’ today so he couldn’t exactly tell you that he didn’t actually spend any money because he owned a third of the business (and its counterpart). There were more perks to the job than just getting first pick if he ever went back to the sex club.
Harry was able to try any product, see new launches, hell he could come up with a design on his own and get them to make and market it. Although, with his full time job taking up the majority of his time, that thought hadn’t really crossed his mind. Looking down at you though, he could feel ideas brimming of something designed specifically for you.
“No. It’s more of a… monthly thing” he chose his words carefully, squeezing your waist as he opened the door back to the gorgeous emerald hallway and let you exit first.
“Like a membership?”
“Sort of. I don’t come here very often but yes; purchases are added to a tab then you pay the balance at the end of the month. Anyway, ‘s not really important. Nothing for you to worry about” he smiled down at you, admiring your pretty side profile and the way you were observing the hallway once again like you had never been in it. He noticed how much you seemed to like interior design and it was something he put on his mental list of things you enjoyed.
“That makes sense” it didn’t really, but with a place as luxurious as this you didn’t really understand a lot of it.
There were a lot of questions you had, like how Harry found it in the first place, how long he’s been going here, what things has he used from here… who he’s taken here? But you were nervous for the answers, and he seemed a bit reluctant to say a lot about his ties to the store, so you didn’t want to push a lot.
You’d be doing a lot of research when you got home that’s for sure.
He just hummed in response while you two walked to the front door. “Let’s head home, yeah?” he opened the door again for you and let you walk out first.
“Don’t you need to get back to your office?” you replied, checking the time on your phone. It was already past when he should’ve been leaving work for the afternoon, but Harry’s belongings and car were all still at his office. You both made it outside where a car was already waiting for you right in front of the building.
“Sharon drove my car home and dropped all my things off a couple hours ago. Didn’t think I’d be making it back and I was right” he looked over to you with a soft smile playing on his lips, telling you that he wasn’t upset by the fact that he missed work. You couldn’t help but feel guilty about it though.
His hand never left your body. Even when he let you walk through the door first or walked alongside you; his hand always touched you somewhere. The feeling of his hot palm through your thin dress was just reminding you of where it was not that long ago. Inside of you… wrapped around your neck…
“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your afternoon. I feel bad that you missed so much work” you chewed on your bottom lip and stopped in front of the car, waiting for him to open the door for you like he had for every other door you two used today.
It was a nice feeling being taken cared of like this, even if it was something as simple as Harry opening doors for you. None of the boys you ever slept with before were this chivalrous. Not that there was a long list of boys, or a lot of time spent out of the bed, but the most any of them did was open their front door for you or send you a curtesy text to let you know they were outside your house.
Harry looked around subtly before he gently nudged you against the car, stepping close enough for his body heat to radiate onto yours but not enough for him to touch. A little gasp left your mouth at the suddenness of his actions.
“Why are you apologising?” Harry tutted, a hand remaining on your waist while the other tilted your chin up, so you were forced to look at him. His gaze burned your body, and you could feel it heating up under the intensity. “You have nothing to apologise for y/n. I invited you out and took you shopping, and I never expected it to be a quick afternoon.” His thumb rubbed over your bottom lip and pulled it free from your teeth, causing your breath to hitch. If he pushed his thumb into your mouth you would’ve dropped on your knees right, then and there. “If I needed to get back to work, I wouldn’t have taken you out after lunch. Understand?”
You nodded wordlessly, your eyes landing on his lips. There was something mesmerising about watching Harry talk, even when he was telling you off a little bit. Especially when he was telling you off and had that look of pure dominance in his eyes.
“Words” he reprimanded, squeezing your waist in warning as his eyes darkened.
“Y-yes. I understand” you breathed, looking back up at his eyes. A small smile emerged there as he ran his thumb over your lip before he stepped back, ignoring your clear body signs for wanting a kiss.
“Good girl. Now in you go”
You both sat in comfortable silence on the way back, looking out your own windows and observing the city go by as you were driven home. His hand had remained permanently on your thigh like it was its home, but you deliberately kept your own to yourself. The urge to place your hand on his was there, in fact it was so there you had to force yourself not to try and hold his hand.
Last time you did that he accepted right away, but you were never sure with Harry. He was a hard man to get a read on especially when he was so fucking confusing all the time. God, sometimes you thought he was secretly a 17-year-old because he was the poster boy of not understanding how actions speak louder than words and seemed to completely ignore how everything he did contradicted itself. 
Harry had a constant rhythm going on your thigh the entire ride home, his fingers tapping in the same beat as the song playing on the radio. He seemed so utterly relaxed sitting there; legs spread in that hot way he always does, probably to accommodate his big dick.
If any other man had the audacity to take up most of the back seat with his legs you’d shove him over, but seeing Harry sat like that just made you want to crawl between his legs.
Once you both got home Harry quickly grabbed you by your elbow and walked you with him to his front garden where you had a bit of privacy. As soon as the gate was closed his hands cupped your face, and you were quickly nudged against the solid fence, his lips coming down on yours in a soft kiss.
The action took you by surprise, but you recovered quickly and relaxed into his touch before grabbing onto the lapels of his suit jacket and kissing back gently.
“Thank you for today” he rasped, breaking off so your noses bumped together. His breath was hot against yours and you were having a hard time concentrating with his body so close. Any time Harry was close to you like this it was like you couldn’t form any words or coherent thoughts.
“I should be thanking you. Lunch was beautiful and I really enjoyed what happened after” you blushed at the thought, and the way a cheeky grin emerged on his face.
“I’m glad you had a good time today, darling. Tomorrow will be even more fun…” his voice dropped lower as one of his hands traced down the side of your body to grab your waist. Your stomach dropped and your breath hitched, knowing he was about to say something absolutely wild about what tomorrow would be like. “I want you to prep tonight like we did over the phone together, but don’t make yourself come…” his eyes scanned your body and paused at the cleavage spilling out the top of your dress before looking back at your eyes. “That’s for me to do tomorrow”
Your clit pulsed at his words. After orgasming already today and completely wrecking your body last night over the phone with Harry, you knew you’d be ultra-sensitive and that it would be near impossible for you to train again without coming. But you wanted to be good for him, just like always.
“Okay, Harry” you breathed, trying to stop yourself from trembling against him. He smirked softly and caressed your face with the back of his hand, his thumb coming to brush against your bottom lip.
“Good girl…” god, your entire body purred when he said that. It just never got old. Harry equally loved how dilated your eyes got when he said it. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he mumbled, admiring your face and every little beauty mark and blemish. Sometimes Harry couldn’t believe how gorgeous you are, even more so that you don’t see it.
You couldn’t reply, not when he looked at you like that.
Your heart was pounding in your chest as you forced a smile and thanked him. “I better get going” you slid out from underneath him, trying to ignore the slight frown on his lips. His sad expression didn’t last long, and he quickly masked it with neutrality.
Harry found you very confusing sometimes, especially today. You seemed to be in a general good mood but then you’d have these little moments of sadness or just quietness that irked him slightly. He couldn’t help but feel like something was going on with you, but he didn’t want to push without being sure that something actually was wrong with you.
“Have a good night, love” he bid goodnight as he walked to his front door.
“You too, Harry” you smiled back, quickly leaving his front garden and shutting his gate behind you before beelining for your house. You just needed a hot shower so you could forget about all of your problems and decompress for a bit.
You knew you had to say a quick hello to your parents before disappearing into your room, so you headed back into the living area where they usually were at this time. The house smelt delicious, but after your big lunch and the amount of mental stimulation you had today, you could barely think about food.
“Hi my love! How was your day?” your mum jumped off the bar stool she was sitting on and rushed over to you, giving you a big hug hello. You smiled and hugged her back.
“Good! Nothing too exciting happened” you replied, heading over to your dad who was cooking some sort of fried pasta. “Hey dad”
“Get her a glass, babe” your mum instructed, sipping her red wine as she plopped herself back onto her bar stool at the island bench so she could watch your dad cook. He winked at her and did a little salute before turning to greet you.
“Hey pumpkin” he paused his stirring to ruffle your hair and firmly push your head into his chest and kiss your forehead. You groaned and shoved him away, flattening your hair from where he messed it up. “You look nice for a day of ‘nothing exciting’” he mocked, putting his spatula down on the bench to grab a wine glass for you.
“Well I headed into the city and did a bit of exploring and got some sushi for lunch. I didn’t buy anything so” you shrugged, smiling in thanks to your dad who had already poured you a glass of wine and passed it to you.
It was easy to lie to your parents, much easier than your friends. Your upbringing was a good one, and you were extremely fortunate to have parents who are able to support you well financially even now that you were in your early 20s.
But as a child money was scarce. You had lived in the same house for your entire life, in a rich neighbourhood where your neighbours earnt unfathomable amounts of money. As a child this was your grandparents house and after your parents had you when they were way too young, they let you all live with them.
Your parents had to pay rent and contribute to the house like it was their own, which was tough because your grandparents didn’t give them a lot of leeway. They were lucky they had a place to live and weren’t forced to move an hour away just so they could afford something half decent, and it was something neither of them ever took for granted.
But it was frustrating that even though your parents worked their asses off, they could never afford holidays or nice clothes. The fact that they were living in a multi-million-dollar house and had parents/in laws who went on yearly Europe trips and drove hundred-thousand-dollar cars only rubbed it in their faces.
But they always made sure they showed you that you were loved. Your grandparents spoiled you rotten financially and materially so your parents made sure they showed you love in other ways; quality time, fun activities, diy gifts, anything they could afford to do they did.
When you were 11, your grandparents got in a car accident overseas and never made it back from the yearly trip your parents looked forward to. They liked the quiet and pretending that they owned this house and life. They almost treated it like a holiday and made sure to spoil themselves a little bit extra while they had the house to themselves.
When your grandparents died, they left the house and a portion of their fortune to your dad. Your one Uncle took over the family business your grandfather built so he left the house and half of his savings to your dad.
After that everything changed. Your parents had gone from living in someone else’s dream to owning it and being able to afford the lifestyle they always wanted. They had always worked hard and that didn’t change when they got the inheritance. Your dad used the money to fund his own development company and start construction projects all over Melbourne and your mum quit her office job to work admin for him a couple days a week.
They stopped spending as much time with you and focused on building a business for themselves, which you knew was important for them. But their quality time turned into giving you an allowance and providing the material support your grandparents used to. It was confusing for you, but you learnt to be self sufficient and how to spend time by yourself.
Now they had a legacy and you were able to keep things to yourself with no effort. They still loved you, and your relationship was a positive one when they weren’t working. As they’ve gotten older (mid 40s, so, young and way ahead most people at this point in their lives), they were already slowing down and your relationship was building back up again.
They doted on you like crazy when you were home from university, and had so much love for you you could feel it in every corner of your house. Those fundamental teen years though, made it easy for you to hide things. Hence why it was so easy for you to hide your relationship with Harry and lie like you were telling the truth.
“No wonder it wasn’t exciting! You should’ve bought yourself something nice. You’ve worked so hard this Summer, baby, so you deserve something nice. Which reminds me! Come look at the shoes I bought today” you stopped your mum before she could get off her bar stool, too tired to look at her shoes right now even though you were actually excited to see them.
“Can I look at them later? I really wanted to shower and lie down for a bit” you hadn’t even finished your wine yet, but you knew if you finished the glass you’d be going upstairs to sleep instead of shower.
“Yeah of course, bub. Go get comfy” she gave you a soft smile which you returned then turned around to walk out of the room. When you got to the doorway leading to the hall she spoke up again, halting your movements. “Oh wait! Before I forget, will you be okay doing dinner by yourself tomorrow? Your father and I are staying in the city and will be out for a Valentine’s dinner so we won’t be home until Wednesday.”
Her words sent a dead chill up your spine, and it took you a moment to process what she actually said. If she said what you think she said, your mind was genuinely going to explode. “What did you just say?” you turned to face her, seeing the confusion written on her face.
“We’re staying in the city-”
“No I got that. Did you say Valentine’s dinner? As in Valentine’s Day?” hearing the words on your tongue made your body go cold and not in a refreshing way.
Harry specifically asked you to do dinner tomorrow night. He didn’t just pick it on the day of because he felt like it, he pre-planned a dinner for tomorrow then also pre-planned a shopping trip the day before.
Valentine’s Day was never a momentous day of the year for you, in fact you didn’t really care for it because you never had anyone to share it with. So, it wasn’t a date that stuck in your brain like one of the other holidays that happened every year. But Harry? He was so meticulous about everything, especially time, so the chance of him being in the same boat as you and not realising it was Valentine’s Day just seemed so unlikely.
But if he knew… why would he ask you? Why would he pick a day that literally celebrates relationships and romance to do your final goodbye dinner together, when this entire fucking time he’s been calling you his friend? Once again it just felt like he was playing this constant game with you, and it was getting harder and harder to keep it all inside.
“Yes?” She replied slowly, “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
You quickly masked the frustration you needed to get out and nodded, “I’m fine! Sorry, I just didn’t realise it was tomorrow. Another year being single it looks like”
Complaining about being single always distracted your mum and got the topic moving on quickly to any random man she came across and thought would look nice with you.
“Oh honey, don’t worry. You’ll find your Valentine soon! I can feel it in my bones” she nodded enthusiastically, finishing off what definitely wasn’t her first glass of wine.
“Right… thanks mum”
You practically ran to the shower, needing to strip yourself from all your clothes and get under hot water as soon as humanly possible. A hot shower, no matter the weather, helped you destress majorly. Your brain was already running 100km/hour just from this new information you had been given.
It truly felt like every day you and Harry were involved you were getting more and more hurt. What sucked the most too was that Harry wasn’t doing anything malicious or hurtful towards you, he was just being plain ignorant and unaware about everything he was doing.
It didn’t help that you hadn’t told him how you felt, and you knew you were partly to blame for everything that had happened so far. If you had just told him that you were starting to gain feelings for him back when he confronted you in the pool, maybe he would’ve pulled back and stopped acting so romantic all the time.
Maybe it would’ve just gone too far into that extreme and he cut you off all together…
You made the decision weeks ago that any part of Harry was better than none of Harry, especially with so little time to go. Now that you were here with all these deep feelings for him and only a week until you drove back to university and didn’t see him for months, you regretted that decision immensely.
You were just so afraid for what his reaction would be if you did confess.
You had never confessed feelings before, or even felt like this with anyone else and it was fucking terrifying. At the ripe age of 22, you had never experienced love or heartbreak and you truly didn’t know how to handle how you were feeling.
You also didn’t know how to handle what Harry was doing. Part of you felt like you were reading too far into all his actions, but the bigger part was yelling at you for overthinking and ignoring what was happening in front of your eyes. Harry was giving you the biggest mixed signals on the planet and planning dinner on Valentine’s Day would’ve had to be the biggest of them all.
You couldn’t rest until you found out if he knew what day it was or not. There was just no way you’d be able to sleep or eat or prep like he wanted without knowing whether he intentionally planned a dinner on the most romantic day of the year.
In the height of your frustration, you dried off from your shower quickly and got changed into the closest outfit you could find and a pair of slides before practically running downstairs. You yelled a quick ‘I forgot something at Harry’s, I’ll be back’ to your parents then left without waiting for their reply.
Doing this felt reckless, and it was so far out of your comfort zone you were riddled with anxiety. But somehow your frustration and confusion for Harry’s actions superseded your doubts and anxieties and pushed you right to his front door.
You knew if you stopped at any point on the minute long walk to his house, you wouldn’t go through with it. So instead of using the bell at the gate like a guest, you keyed in the code you had memorised from using it a million times and walked straight to his front door.
When you got there, however, the adrenaline and frustration that was pushing you through this decision suddenly disappeared and you froze on his doorstep. You were just staring at his front door, unable to move a muscle to ring his doorbell.
Harry had received the multiple notifications on his phone that someone had unlocked his gate and that there was motion at his front door. There were only a few people who knew the code to his gate, but he checked his phone security app anyway and was surprised to see you standing on his front step like a lost sheep.
Your hair was still wet from your shower, and you were barely dressed in anything. Your clothing looked more like pyjama’s than clothes you’d wear out of the house, and he was immediately worried that something had happened. He was opening his front door before you even had to make the choice of ringing his doorbell or not, and the moment you saw his face it triggered your frustration all over again.
“What’s going on, y/n? Are you okay?” he had so much concern written on his face it made your heart clench. But that feeling only reminded you that it was his fault that feeling was there in the first place.
Without saying anything in response you slid past him and into his house, pacing a few steps and fiddling with your fingers.
“Y/n?” he shut the door and took steps towards you, now extremely concerned about whatever was going on. He had never seen you like this before; so agitated and stressed. His mind was immediately going to all the worst places, and he was trying not to panic about your safety. You were stood in front of him, yet he feared that you’d suddenly disappear into thin air.
“Did you know that tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day?” you blurted out, looking up at him for the first time since entering his house. He blinked blankly at you, that question not even on the list of things he thought you might say.
“Pardon?”
“Did you know that tomorrow was Valentine’s Day before you organised our dinner?”
Did Harry know? Yes, Harry had an inkling that Valentine’s Day would fall on the same day he planned your last dinner together. Was it planned intentionally like that? Yes…
But he couldn’t tell you that.
“I didn’t”
Harry felt bad for lying, especially when the question seemed to be causing you so much turmoil. But he had kept many secrets from you so far and one more wouldn’t hurt. It was a selfish move, but it was better then admitting why he planned your last dinner on Valentine’s Day.
He could’ve picked any night this week, and usually he’d do it later in the week so there was less time before your final dinner together and your going away BBQ on Sunday. But when he saw that Valentine’s Day fell on Tuesday… he couldn’t help himself and had to pick that day.
“You… didn’t?” You repeated slowly, looking at him with caution in your eyes. Even though there was no waver in his voice and no visible sign on his body that he wasn’t telling the truth, you just didn’t believe him.
Harry planned everything to a T. Everything was done meticulously and perfectly, so him trying to claim that he had no idea what tomorrow was just seemed so fake. If you were having this discussion weeks ago, you’d believe him in a heartbeat despite knowing the type of person he was.
But after all the doubt and confusion he planted in your head, albeit unknowingly, you didn’t believe a word he said. Was that awful? To not believe the word of a man who never lied because he saw no point in it? Who liked to tell everything exactly how it was because he thought beating around the bush was a waste of time?
Maybe.
“No y/n, I didn’t. Valentine’s Day means little to me so it’s not something I keep track of” he shrugged, like it meant nothing. He ran a hand through his hair then stepped forward, his eyes turning soft. Harry had a way of switching between hard and soft when it came to you. He was a closed book for himself, but anything that concerned you he handled with utter delicacy. “Why is this making you so upset? Does Valentine’s Day mean something to you?”
He reached out for you, his fingers grazing yours to try and stop you from picking at your cuticles. The small touch calmed you down, but the way he asked the question just made you upset.
For the first time in your relationship, you felt emotionally so young and just stupid compared to him. You felt stupid because even though Valentine’s Day had never meant anything to you so far, you still wanted to have it mean something at some point.
You thought that point would be a lot later in your life, since before Harry relationships didn’t interest you. But romance was still something you always wanted for yourself at some point in your life.
Now that you had the longing for your person since meeting Harry, you wanted it now. You wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with someone you loved and who loved you back. You wanted to celebrate a relationship and get roses and a cheesy gift with some stupid corny joke on the card.
You didn’t want your first Valentine’s Day to be spent with a man you were hopelessly pining over, who had zero romantic interest to you in return.
It made you feel stupid. Because here Harry was, saying that it meant nothing to him and yet it meant everything to you. You just felt so emotionally inexperienced when Harry probably had so many Valentine’s Days, they were nothing but a waste of time to him now.
If Harry hadn’t already planned an entire evening for you two, you would’ve asked to change the night without giving away too much information about the reason why. But he booked dinner and had been speaking about his plans with you for days now. It seemed unfair to make him change all that just because of your own stupid feelings about a day that to Harry meant nothing.
He didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day, so he had done nothing wrong.
So, like everything else that had happened between you two, you ignored the part of your heart that was hurting. Storming over here and asking the question in the first place had taken up all the courage you had to confront him about your feelings. That was enough.
“Uhh... No. It’s not. I was just curious” the lie was bad, terrible even. You didn’t sound the least bit convincing at all, but you hoped by making a quick exit that he wouldn’t question it. “I should get home. I’m sorry for interrupting your night” you spoke quickly and tried to slide past him to leave, but his hand grabbed onto your wrist gently to stop you.
“Why are you lying to me?” Harry’s tone was firm, the soft look once in his eyes turned hard, like he was irritated by your blatant lying.
“I’m not lying” you defended, voice breaking as you tried to compose yourself and not expose the fact that you wanted to go home and cry like a child.
“You. Are” he said slowly, taking a step closer to you. You avoided his eye contact and stared at the floor, eyes closing when he tipped your chin up. “Y/n” he warned, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. His expression softened again, his heart clenching at the look in your eyes.
It read hurt, sadness, even shame. He hated it. He wanted to get rid of it and make you happy again, but he just didn’t understand why you were so upset for, and why you were lying about it.
“I’m fine, Harry. This week has just been a lot for me and I’m about to get my period so I’m emotional, okay? I’m sorry for making a big fuss, but I’m fine. So please, I’m sorry for interrupting but I need to go and prep for tomorrow” the words tumbled out, stronger than your pitiful excuse earlier.
Your reply still didn’t make sense with the issue you presented Harry and the way you were acting. A woman’s menstrual cycle didn’t faze him because he wasn’t a fucking child, and he had half a mind to tell you off for trying to blame your cycle for lying about something that he did that clearly made you upset.
Storming over here about Valentine’s Day wasn’t out of curiosity or being emotional. There was a reason for it.
But he couldn’t push you… too much. He still wanted to enjoy this week with you, and he didn’t want to press on something that could be quite sensitive, especially since you seemed reluctant to share the reason for it. He’d find out eventually, one way or another. But for now, he was going to make sure you knew that he’d do anything to make you feel better, so you actually do enjoy this week instead of sitting in silence suffering.
“Y/n… I’m not a 16-year-old boy you can freak out by mentioning your menstrual cycle so please don’t use that as an excuse to cover up how you’re feeling. Clearly, Valentine’s Day means something and it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me why. But if I’ve done something wrong and there’s something I can do to fix it, I want to know. Should I change the dinner to another day?”
The fact that he was so adamant on trying to make you feel better and trying to understand what was going on felt really nice. He was right in saying you were trying to scare him off with the period tactic, because that was a lie that most men usually fell for. But Harry wasn’t most men. With how sincere he seemed in his concern, you honestly just felt bad that you stressed him out.
One of your greatest downfalls was having high academic intelligence, but the lowest of low emotional intelligence. You didn’t know how to navigate a relationship, let alone express your feelings or take the leap and be vulnerable with another person.
“No! Don’t-you don’t have to.” You exclaimed, plastering a soft smile on your face and resting your hand on his upper arm in a comforting way. “I honestly am looking forward to dinner tomorrow night, so please don’t change it. You haven’t done anything wrong, promise”
Harry still didn’t believe you, but it was clear you weren’t budging.
“Okay. I’ll leave it, this once. But I want you to know you can talk to me y/n, about anything. I mean it” he said earnestly, his words hitting you right in your heart because he was wrong.
The main problem in your life right now was him, and he had no idea.
//
You slept as soon as you returned home from Harry’s last night. The sun was still setting, and dinner was still hot, yet neither mattered when your blinds were pulled closed and your room was in utter darkness. Your mind was in overdrive from everything that had happened so there was no prepping of any kind, or anything except knocking out cold as soon as your head hit the pillow.
When you woke up the next morning you were starved after not eating dinner last night, and your parents were still fast asleep due to taking the day off to go be a romantic couple. Food was the last thing on your mind though, and you craved your morning walk more than anything.
Seeing Harry on your morning walk worried you. But when he greeted you like usual, a little look up and down and a ‘good morning, love’ like nothing had happened the night before, you felt instantly better. Pretending like you didn’t have a mini freak out last night was in both of your interests, because all you wanted to do was clear your head and fully enjoy tonight with him.
You had an incredible ability to shut off your emotions and stresses when it suited you. After sleeping for nearly 12 hours and waking up refreshed, you were able to easily shove all your mental anguish in a dark corner and ignore it to focus on something else.
The toys and lingerie he bought you had been replaying on your mind all morning. Knowing you were about to be tied up, pleasured and spanked with various instruments had your whole body igniting with fire. The anxieties and mistrust you felt last night all melted away and instead you were turned on beyond belief.
You never got to prep last night like Harry instructed. But it felt like it was too late to do it, or rather you just couldn’t be bothered and wanted to relax and save your energy rather than get yourself all worked up and borderline coming the day of. It was a direct disobedience to his instructions, but after last night you thought he’d let you off the hook.
You knew he was fucking your ass tonight, and the thought had been circling your brain like crazy since the first time he fingered your ass all those weeks ago. Part of you was nervous, but the other knew how good it felt to take that toy and fuck yourself on it.
Harry’s cock was much larger than the toy, and it was attached to one of the most attractive men you had ever seen so you knew it would feel amazing. He had a way of being gentle when he needed to, so you knew you’d be able to ask him to slow down or go faster or do whatever you needed to make it feel good.
God… just the thought of his long thick cock stretching you out and reaching that new spot you discovered had you reeling.
It was like you were intensely daydreaming the entire walk, because by the time you actually got home after completing your route it felt like five minutes instead of 45. Some days you enjoyed that, but today you forced yourself to do another loop, wanting to feel the sweat and blood pumping in your body when you were more mentally present.
By the time you got back you were able to shower and do your usual prep before your parents were even awake. Once they did wake up and start to get ready for a late breakfast in the city, you had to leave to see Archie, so you bid them an early goodbye and headed straight over to Harry’s.
Archie was as happy as anything to see you, and you were the same. You were going to miss the little stinker terribly and just wanted to get as many Archie cuddles as possible these last couple days. So aside from giving him a bath and taking him to his favourite dog beach, you just wanted to spend the rest of the time cuddling on Harry’s couch.
It was all you had planned today, just wanting to relax and enjoy Harry’s big TV and comfy couch to watch another season of The Office. You had watched it entirely through a couple times now, but when you were especially mentally drained or needed a nice distraction, you always went back to it.
Today was just one of those days. Because, if you kept thinking about tonight, you’d drive yourself crazy and be uncomfortably horny all day OR overthinking the fuck out of what today represented to you. Neither sounded like a pleasurable experience.
When you entered the living room, hot on Archie’s heels since he was already racing to the couch, your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.
On top of Harry’s gorgeous marble bench top was a large bouquet of baby pink tulips and peonies, all perfect with zero blemishes. They were arranged in a frosted glass vase with a pink ribbon tied around the middle in an equally as perfect bow. It was pristine… perfect even and you instantly knew they were for you.
Harry was a man that enjoyed a lovely plant. He had many over his whole house that he took good care of, but he didn’t have a single flower in his entire house. He had no bushes outside that bloomed or any trees that even grew flowers before producing fruit. He was a man of simple taste, though it never looked simple with how gorgeous everything in his house was.
So, a bunch of tulips and peonies were something he never would’ve had in his house. You remember mentioning them once months ago, way before you two even started sleeping together. It was your mum’s birthday and you had organised a big bouquet of hydrangeas for her since they were her favourite flower. You told Harry all about it at your weekly dinner and he asked what your favourite flower was.
You never thought anything of it. Yet now seeing a bouquet of your two favourite flowers in the world in front of you made your entire body tingle, because no one had ever remembered such a tiny detail about you before. Especially not from a single passing conversation you had months ago.
Your heart was beating erratically as you approached the bouquet and grabbed the little white envelope sticking out the top. It was very reminiscent of the ‘gift’ Tracey gave you to pass onto Harry, but you pushed away that icky thought and focused on how happy you felt. 
Despite the bright orange flags Harry had, albeit ones that could easily be addressed if you just stopped being afraid, this single bouquet had quickly made all of them disappear and fade into all the green flags he had.
I hope you’re feeling better after last night and are looking forward to our night together. I know I am. There’s a surprise waiting upstairs in the bedroom for you.
H x
H… H.
The only time you had ever heard his name being referred to as H was that night when you ran into him at the bar. You couldn’t remember who called him ‘H’, but you remember the fuzzy feeling in your stomach at the sentiment. It was so sweet and personal… and now here he was singing off a note with it.
It was a bittersweet feeling seeing that little letter signed off at the end of his handwritten note. It was sweet but at the same time it was just another thing that confused you. You knew it was nothing more than a friendly gesture, an olive branch considering to him you probably acted fucking crazy last night, but why start a new nickname with only 5 days to go before you leave?
It was even more bittersweet looking back at those flowers and realising that your first bouquet of flowers given to you by a man was from someone who was only interested in your ‘friendship’ and body.
You pushed the thought away and reread the note, then instantly headed upstairs to his room with the card safely tucked in the palm of your hand. With Archie hot on your heels, you opened the door to his bedroom and again went frozen with shock.
On his bed was everything you had bought and agreed to use together set out on his duvet in perfect positioning, as well as one more item that you didn’t remember him buying, nor knew what it was. It was all laid out surrounding two key items, the sheer floral lingerie set you tried on in store and a small blue Tiffany’s box. The rest of the items that were only for you were in a black shopping bag like the one he bought the Lovense plug in beside the bed.
It felt like all the air had left your body as you approached the bed, your eyes focused solely on the blue Tiffany’s box. The concept of a box like that even existing in the same realm as you was crazy. Your mother had many Tiffany diamonds, and you were passed down items from your late grandmother. But this was different.
This was a blue Tiffany’s box specifically for you.
The fact that Harry would buy it wasn’t surprising, but the fact that he bought it for you shook you to your very core. You almost didn’t even want to open it and see what was inside because you were scared about what was in there. It seemed a bit silly to be scared of a jewellery item, but with how odd Harry had been around you the last week it felt right to be apprehensive at something that you knew was expensive.
There was another note beside the box, one you picked up and read instead of even touching the blue material.
Wear this tonight.
There was no ‘H’ signoff, and no ‘x’ like the card with the flowers. It seemed a lot more like the Harry you knew; straight, dominating, commanding. You could even decipher his tone just in the three little words, and you knew that it wasn’t a request.
The lingerie set was obviously what he was referring to, but the blue Tiffany’s box was screaming at you to open it up, so you knew that whatever was inside was part of his note. You looked down at Archie who was sat beside you on the floor and just staring at you like he was begging for something.
“How about you open it for m-oh shit that’s heavy” you picked up the box and went to give it to Archie just for pretend but was surprised at the weight of the small box when you first picked it up. Now you were really curious about what was inside.
He had never bought anything for you aside food, and the expensive shopping trip yesterday. But he explained that those things brought him joy too so you just didn’t understand how something from Tiffany’s would’ve done the same.
You assumed it would be a pair of earrings or a necklace, but he never would’ve seen you wear them since you were leaving. And even if he did, you two were nothing more than fuck buddies in simple terms, so it couldn’t have been an ownership thing. He was adamant last time he told you not to make him jealous that this was nothing romantic, so the usual dominating man reasons just didn’t fit.
“What has your daddy gotten up to now, Arch?” you sighed, scratching his ears then going to the armchair in the corner of the room and sitting down so you could finally open the box.
You knew Archie would jump up on the bed after you if you sat down on it, and you didn’t want to risk him ruining the arrangement or touching anything that would have to be re-sanitised (which you assumed by the type of person Harry was, that he had already done it).
Archie followed and curled at your feet, stretching out on his belly like all he wanted this entire time was to just lay by you. It felt like Archie knew that something was happening. He had figured out in his little dog brain that you were leaving, or that Harry was having a weird mid-life crisis and using you to figure it out. Either way, it broke your heart looking down at the little furball knowing that you’d be leaving him in a couple days
After giving Archie a few more ear scratches you decided to just rip the band aid off and open the little blue Tiffany box. Upon closer inspection it was larger than any of your mum’s, which should’ve been a sign that it wasn’t anything to be worn externally. Once the lid was off, a little matching blue Tiffany felt bag was inside hiding whatever Harry had bought.
Inside the bag was the last thing on the planet you ever expected to see. The small, baby pink jewelled butt plug you had been eyeing in the store yesterday. A gasp audibly left your mouth as you brought it closer to your face to get a closer look, admiring the twinkling of the large diamond on the end. You didn’t know much about diamonds, but this was big and big wasn’t cheap.
A fucking tiffany jewelled butt plug.
It was absolutely breathtaking and might’ve been the most Harry thing you had ever seen in your life. It suddenly made sense that this gift very much benefited him as well, even though the unknown price was causing you immense anxiety. The plug was locked up in a case and has a tiffany diamond on it for fucks sake, it would have to be expensive.
You quickly got your phone out and called Harry before changing your mind about it. Waiting until tonight to thank him seemed wrong and you still had a lot of questions that you felt brave enough to ask because he wasn’t physically in front of you and observing you.
“Hello love, did you get the flowers?” Harry greeted; the smirk evident in his tone even though you couldn’t see him.
“I did… they’re beautiful. I didn’t expect them at all” you looked down at Archie then back to the pretty plug in your hand, finding yourself mesmerised by how it shimmered in the daylight.
“I thought after last night you deserved a nice gesture… are you feeling better?” he was cautious in his last question, picking the words carefully like he didn’t want to ask. This conversation wasn’t one he wanted to have over the phone, but he couldn’t answer your phone call and not ask.
He had been thinking about you all morning. His follow up question would be about the rest of the display he made for you, but this was more important.
“Yeah I’m fine, I feel better after a good sleep…” the reality was that you were just ignoring the problem rather than acknowledging the turmoil in your stomach, “anyway, I got your other gifts too…”
The sudden change in topic told Harry you just didn’t want to talk about it, and you didn’t give any room to elaborate either. So he moved on as well, planning to explain himself a little better at dinner tonight. “Yeah? Did you like them?”
“Harry… the plug is beautiful, maybe one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen”
“I’m glad you like it, thought it would look gorgeous in you” you tried to ignore the fact that he purposefully used ‘in’ instead of ‘on’, but it made heat rise up your chest into your face, your legs tensing at the idea that he pictured you wearing it.
“It’s too much though, I feel like I shouldn’t even be holding it it’s so nice” you admitted, putting the phone on speaker quickly so you could slip the plug back into its little bag and into its box.
“Why not? You deserve nice things y/n” he was stern in his reply, like he didn’t want to hear you argue about it. “I don’t want you to argue. There’s no returns so if you don’t use it, it’ll be left in its box to collect dust for eternity. It’s for you, darling, no one else. Can’t even imagine it in anyone else… it’s like it belongs to you and I haven’t even seen it in you yet”
It was like your body crumbled at his words. You bit down on your lower lip to try and stop yourself from whimpering. His words weren’t even that erotic and yet they wore you down until you couldn’t help but just go along with it.
“Okay…” you whispered, standing up to go look at the bed.
“Good girl, sweetheart. Make sure you put it in in my room, okay?” Harry couldn’t bear the thought of you stretching your ass open and pushing that plug in in your own bedroom. He wanted to have the sweat from your squirming body on his sheets, your pretty whimpers filling his room.
“Okay” you replied again, making eye contact with a black object sitting on the bed. It had a round ball attached to a little black rod-looking thing, not wider than one finger. When you picked it up, you noticed a hole at the tip of the rod and an opening at the other end of the ball that had a tab you could seal it up with.
“Um… I uh… also have a question?” you said hesitantly, experimentally squishing the ball and making air blow through the other end.
You had no idea what it was. It was clear it went inside you, but you couldn’t understand what it was for.
“Is this about the douche?” he asked, like he already knew what you were asking about.
“The what?”
“The black thing on the bed. Looks like a ball attached to a rod?” he played with his lip as he looked out his office window, smiling at the way you were still shy to ask him questions.
“Oh yeah! What is it?” you asked, squeezing the ball bit again and making the air blow out into your face. Archie was watching you curiously and you almost went to blow the air on his face until Harry responded.
“It’s used to help clean you out before anal sex. It’s not always needed, but it does help to have a… cleaner experience” he didn’t want to intimidate you about its use, or make it seem like it was scary. He would’ve rather been there to help you do it, but that wasn’t possible, and he had a feeling you wouldn’t want him to help you anyway.
It actually made a lot of sense now that he explained what it was. It also made sense to use it before tonight since it was your first time, and his entire cock would be going up your ass. The thought still made you a little embarrassed, even though you shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t embarrassing to do anal sex, nor to prepare for it, but just the idea of prepping yourself made your entire body all jittery.
“Oh… okay. How do I use it?”
Harry walked you through the entire procedure. You were glad he was doing it over the phone because you could barely hide how squeamish it made you. Your body was hot, and you were blushing profusely, but Harry made sure to explain everything in detail and answer any questions you had about it.
After his in-depth explanation, you thanked him again for the flowers and gifts and ended the call, ready to prepare yourself for tonight.
//
One Week Ago
//
“So… what do you have for me?” Ethan asked, pouring a glass of whiskey for himself and the private investigator sat in front of him at his island bench.
“Hah, what don’t I have for you?” the man chuckled, sliding the A4 envelope across the bench to Ethan before grabbing the whiskey. “Cheers”
Ethan took a sip from his glass and eyed the man curiously before opening the envelope and grabbing the printed photos from inside. There was a USB in the envelope as well, housing the digital copies.
After Harry’s birthday party, Ethan needed more information, and he needed more evidence to go along with that before he could determine any use for the photos he already had. Hiring a private investigator was the most logical step, especially one with a background in IT and security systems. It cost a bit extra to hire someone with those skills and a lack of morality, but it was worth it when Ethan saw the photos his PI managed to get.
“How did you get these?” his eyes widened, looking down at the very R-rated images in his hands. Now this was the evidence he was after.
“You hired someone who used to work with security systems… do the maths” the PI smirked, sipping his whiskey casually. He knew that he had done well and if the couple in the photos kept doing things outdoors like this, there’d be a lot more where that came from.
“Can you get more?” Ethan looked at the man eagerly, wanting more and more evidence. The more he had, the more he could use.
“Can you pay more?” the man across from him rose a brow, looking around his house and recognising the money practically bleeding from the walls. He was only paid for one round, any more than that and he wanted more.
“Yes. How much?”
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zepskies · 8 months
Text
Love Actually - Part 2
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Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader
Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.
AN: Here’s the requested Part 2! It got too long, so I had to break it up lol. There will be a Part 3 after this (final part). I also tried really hard to find an image/gif that would match this chapter better, but alas, there are only so many pictures of this scruffy guy. (And none in a real suit. 😂)
Read Part 1
Remember, this story is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…
Word Count: 4,800 Tags/Warnings: Tense situations, bit of angst, lots of sexy fluff
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Part 2: "Season’s Greetings"
Ben checked his watch again. 
He’d lost count of how many times, how many minutes, how long he’d been waiting for you to come down the goddamn stairs so he could get this night over with. 
You’d been getting ready for this dinner with your family for four hours. How long did it take you to slap on some makeup and throw on a dress?
Finally, he heaved a sigh and got up from the couch, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He stayed by the foot of the stairs and called up to you.
“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—” 
Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze. 
“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke. 
You had a black suede clutch tucked in your other hand, but Ben was drawn to the bright red of your dress. The color alone appealed to him. It called back a memory of a musty club, rich whiskey, and the dulcet tones of your voice.
But now, this dress was shorter. It also hugged your every curve and stopped just a few inches above the knee. He noticed a tantalizing little slit in the back, at the hem, leading his eyes down your sheer pantyhose and down to the tall, black heels.
His lips formed a teasing smile. “You sure you can walk in those?” 
But you could see the truth in his eyes; he liked what he saw. They raked back up your body, taking in the short sleeves, the slight plunge of the neckline, the red lipstick as bright as your dress, the soft sweep of eyeliner and dark lashes—and you hoped he noticed the way you’d painstakingly done your hair into soft, ‘40s style waves.
“Do I look shaky to you?” you countered.
Ben tilted his head slightly as he stared up at you. “Not one bit.”
He reached out for you on the last step of the stairs. You took his hand and gave him a grateful look, but your hand didn’t stop there. It grazed up the sleeve of his suit jacket as you took him in with a smile.
Not often one to don a simple black suit, Ben went with a charcoal gray against a crisp black undershirt. No tie though, leaving the first couple of buttons casually open. 
“Look at my man, all sharp and modern and sexy as hell,” you purred. He accepted the praise with a pleased quirk of his lips. 
Normally you wouldn’t try to feed his peacock-level pride too much. He knew he was a damn fine-looking man. However, you also knew he wasn’t totally into meeting the rest of your family tonight. You knew you needed to give him a (well earned) ego boost.
“Gotta match my girl,” said Ben. Though he fingered the ends of your softly curled hair with a more genuine glint to his smile. “Though you’ve gone a bit vintage.”
“Compromise.” You grinned, and you leaned up for a soft kiss. 
He met you there, even pressing his luck when his tongue begged entrance against your lips. You held his cheek and brushed your thumb there tenderly, but you soon broke away. 
“We’ve got somewhere to be,” you reminded him. Ben sighed through his nose, though his hands molded to your waist.  
“I didn’t realize you were that kinky,” he said. His voice was deep and suggestive. Your face started to heat up, even as your brows knitted with confusion.
“What?” you asked. 
“I know you’re not gonna make me wait all night to get a taste of this,” he said. And he leaned down to begin plying you with his heavy hands and his lips along your neck. “I gotta assume you want me to fuck you in your mom’s house.”
You uttered a shocked laugh. You batted his shoulder, even though it didn’t even make him blink. His lips curved as they grazed your neck. He inhaled under your ear, making a pleasant shudder run down your spine. He hummed in approval.
“Is that the perfume I got you?” he asked. 
“Mhmm,” you nodded. “I like it a lot. Makes me feel all warm and spicy.”
Ben chuckled into your neck. He did pull back eventually to thumb around the edge of one of your earrings—the second part of his Christmas gift to you. The white stone and silver filigree shone in the light. 
“They look good,” he remarked, giving you a charming smile. “Better on you than the catalogue girl.”
Now that was an image. Soldier Boy: browsing through a magazine of women’s jewelry. You smiled brightly at him. 
“Thank you, baby,” you replied. “They really are beautiful.”
Then you glanced down to find your gift to him on his wrist: a new silver Rolex. You turned his hand over to make sure that it fit him right.
“Not too tight, right? Not too loose.” you asked.
He shook his head. “Nah, it’s good.”
“Just good? Does it still need adjusting? We can go back to the store and have them fix it—”
“It’s perfect, sweetheart. Stop fussing,” he said. Your lips pursed as you looked up at him from the watch. 
“I just want to make sure you’re happy with it, that’s all,” you said. 
“I am,” he replied. But his smile, the hidden glint of something in his eyes, made you blush. Inside, you were warm and pleased.  
“All right, let’s go then,” you said. “I’ve got the rum cake, and the actual rum ready to go in the kitchen. And the presents are lined up by the door. Can you load those up in the car for me while I get the food?”
Ben obliged you, though he soon balked at the army of presents waiting for him by the door. When did you have time to get all of these? He didn’t remember you buying all this shit. 
Though he realized, this must’ve been how you filled your time after work, while he was gone for the past two weeks on that mission. 
As he loaded the gifts into the car, Ben reluctantly remembered that it had been…strange, to be away from you. For the past few months, you two had fallen into a rhythm. Waking up to each other, busy morning routines before work, sharing your evenings afterwards. 
You had also been making it your mission to find new things to do together. Like paintballing, of all things. Or comedy shows, new movies and restaurants, concerts, club nights with your friends. Though it was weird for him, sometimes, to go to a show without all the celebrity fanfare he used to get as Soldier Boy.    
Well, he was still Soldier Boy. He just wasn’t getting paid anywhere near the same as he used to. (But let’s face it, he didn’t need the damn money. He’d earned plenty in 40 years of fame and family inheritance.) 
People still knew his name, still worshiped him at times, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t part of Vought’s machine anymore. No one really told him what to do, but if he wanted this life—here, in upstate New York—he was forced to make efforts to color within the lines of the law (mostly). Hell, he actually worked for a living. Even if it was for the government.  
The point was, he was part of something. And it wasn’t totally shit, even if he was surrounded by morons on a daily basis…  
By the time you opened the passenger side door to interrupt his musings, Ben remembered to actually start the car. 
“You okay?” you asked as you clicked in your seatbelt. You were keeping a close eye on him tonight, trying to gauge his shifting moods. 
Ben hesitated, but when he glanced over at you, he reached over and thumbed at your chin, under those ruby red lips. It made you smile. 
“Yeah,” he replied. Though he let out a subtle breath as he faced the road and took the wheel of the car. Ever perceptive though, you sent him an assessing look. 
“You’re not nervous, are you?” you asked. His brows furrowed slightly.
“Why would I be?” he asked, his voice a bit sharp. Defensive, you interpreted. 
Instead of answering, you leaned over and laid a hand on his thigh.
“Look, my mom already likes you. Louisa’s going to come around,” you said. Your mouth edged into a smile, of sorts. “I just need you to stop me from killing my aunt with a ladle.” 
Ben snorted in response. “All right.”
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When the two of you arrived at your mother’s house, she opened the door to her home and greeted your boyfriend like a long-lost son. 
“Oh, Ben! Come in, please,” she beckoned, grabbing his arm and guiding him inside. “You look so handsome, my goodness!” 
Ben couldn’t help offering a smile. It was infused with his usual charm. 
“Marie,” he greeted with a nod. You shook your head, despite your own smile. Ben liked attention—along with a bit of praise and fanfare went without saying. And you knew your mom wouldn’t be the only one to play into that tonight. 
“Hi, Mom,” you said pointedly, with a hand on your hip. Marie turned to you with a bright smile. 
“Oh! Honey, there you are. Merry Christmas!” She brought you in and hugged you tight. She then fairly gushed as she took in your dress and touched your hair. “Oh, you look so beautiful. I wish you’d come earlier though. I need you to help me and Trina. Come on.”
Marie glanced up at Ben again. “Oh, you too, hun! We can introduce you to everyone.”
Ben nodded. He followed your lead behind your mother, and you inwardly steeled yourself on the way to the kitchen. The familiar smells awaiting you brought you back to the better parts of your childhood. Ones that were filled with music, laughs, and good food.    
And if there was one redeeming quality about your Aunt Trina, it was that she could cook her ass off. Since your mom had always been more of the “boxed meal” variety cook, Trina always took over at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and just about every other family gathering. 
She was putting the ham in the oven while your sister sat at the kitchen table with your Grandpa George, peeling potatoes. The bigger table in the dining room was currently set up with appetizers and wine. 
But the sounds of chatter and pots and pans and cabinets closing—it all stopped when you and Ben entered the kitchen. You felt his hand at the small of your back, and whether he meant it to or not, that familiar touch stabilized you. 
Even Trina stopped giving Louisa directions on how to correctly peel and cut the potatoes for boiling. Her mouth opened when she took in the sight of Ben, from head to toe. 
“Good evening,” he said, if only to break the silence. 
But you knew the rest was up to you. You curled a hand around his solid arm and gave him a smile, before looking to your family. 
“Hey, guys. Merry Christmas!” you greeted. “This is my boyfriend, Ben.”
Trina squealed in excitement. She came over (with a wooden spoon in hand) to give you an enthusiastic hug and kiss. She held your arms and looked between you and Ben. 
“Your mom said you were dating a superhero, but I had no idea…” she twittered. “I mean…it’s Soldier Boy. He’s in my kitchen!” 
“It’s Mom’s kitchen, actually,” you muttered. Trina’s excitement dimmed slightly as she rolled her eyes at you.
“Ever the smart mouth,” she said, playfully whacking you in the ass with her spoon. 
Ben smirked. He certainly agreed with your aunt’s assessment. He turned to her to offer something in greeting, but before he could, Louisa’s voice cut in from across the room. 
“What should we call you? Ben, or Soldier Boy?” she asked dryly. 
You frowned, gave your sister a look. Meanwhile, Ben didn’t quite make it to a smile, but he was civil when he answered her. 
“Ben’s fine.”
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You remained in the kitchen to help out, while Ben migrated to the living room with your grandfather. Ben grabbed a large glass of wine on his way there, along with a few mini quiche to tide him over until dinner. 
He then noticed an old woman sleeping on the leather recliner. 
“Who’s that?” he asked George. 
“Oh, that’s Great Aunt Sylvia,” George said. “She just took an oxy for her hip. She’ll be passed out ‘til dinner.”  
Ben blinked at the casual mention of oxycodone, but he wouldn’t mind a few of what Sylvia was having. Oxy gave him such a nice buzz. 
But instead, he and George sat on opposite ends of the couch while Sylvia snored away. 
For a moment, it was quiet, save for the soft crooning of Nat King Cole playing (and Sylvia). The music came from a small round speaker on the coffee table, Ben noticed. You’d told him about Alexa and Siri and all those techno bitches out there now, controlling people’s houses. He didn’t trust it. 
“You like baseball?” George asked as he turned on the TV. Ben nodded, and the other man put on a game. Mets versus the Cubs, three to one. The men were silent for a while as they watched the game. 
Unfortunately for Ben, that peace couldn’t last. 
“So,” George started. “You’re a supe, huh?”
Ben inclined his head, sipping at his wine. This was what he fucking hated. Small talk. 
“I remember you,” George said. “My wife and I liked that movie you made…King of Kings. With Charlton Heston. What a classic that guy was.”
Ben smiled. “He was a good time. Drank like a fucking fish.”
George raised a brow. “Did he? Well, we all need a glass every now and then.”
Ben nodded, taking a pointed sip of his wine. 
“Heston. One of the few celebrities I gave a shit about when he died,” George said with a shake of his head. “Wasn’t long before my wife’s passing.”
You’d told Ben a lot about your grandmother. When your parents got divorced, she’d insisted that you, your mom, and your sister live with her and George. She didn’t want to take any chances with your dad, who’d been more than unstable at the time in his drinking. 
Ben didn’t often pray. But he drank then with a silent toast, that good ole’ Jon was getting hot coals up the ass right about now. In hell.
Ben then considered your grandfather’s musings, realizing he hadn’t thought about his old pal Heston in a long time.  
“How’d he die?” Ben asked. George glanced over at him.
“Well, official case was pneumonia. But it wasn’t all that clear,” he said. “However, I think he had a flare up.”
“Of what?” Ben asked.
George gave him a wry look. “The fate that all men fear. Ass cancer.”
Ben raised a brow, his mouth twitching. He had a feeling he knew where your sense of humor came from. 
“You probably don’t have to worry about that,” George waved a dismissive hand. “You’re still young. Well, sort of…I mean, being superhuman and all that. I’m sure that comes in handy with the normal stuff, like the sniffles and whatnot…and hey! At least you won’t have to worry about your asshole fallin’ out.”
Ben actually smiled. Now he knew you were related to this man. 
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In the kitchen, you were trying and failing to dodge a game of “Twenty Questions” with your aunt, while you and your sister finished cutting potatoes. All of the questions were predictably centered around Ben. Luckily, you had a plate of mini quiche, cheese, and salami between you and Louisa to keep you pacified. 
“Well, you’ve done well for yourself, I’ll give you that,” Trina said. “But why on God’s green Earth didn’t you tell us you were dating Soldier Boy? How the hell did you even meet him?”
Shit. There was more than one reason you hadn’t told the rest of your family yet, and this was partly it. How the hell were you supposed to explain this? 
Louisa shot you a knowing look, along with a raised brow. 
“Well, I was actually assigned to find him after he…went missing last year,” you said, keeping things purposefully vague. “We met and…things just kind of took off from there.”
Your mom and your sister didn’t even know all the details, but they knew this much. After Soldier Boy used his nuclear power to end Homelander, he’d escaped in the aftermath. 
You’d been working a year in Surveillance at Supe Affairs, but you’d been a private investigator by trade, previously working at your father’s firm. You’d even worked at Vought for a few years, before joining the S.A. 
You were then recruited by Grace Mallory to track down Soldier Boy, along with Butcher and his team. 
…And that’s where things got complicated. 
“But isn’t Soldier Boy the one who killed Homelander?” Trina asked. She stopped in her stirring of the cranberry sauce to look back at you. And you met her stare directly. 
“Yes. He was partnered with the CIA on that.” Sort of. You added, “Homelander wasn’t the hero you all thought you knew, remember? He was a raging psychopath.”
Trina huffed at that. 
“So was your father. And you still worked with him for years,” she remarked, even off-handedly as she went back to stirring.
Your entire body stilled. Inside, your temper was a lit fuse, preparing to ignite. You stuffed a mini quiche into your mouth to stop you from exploding. 
And your mom and your sister recognized the danger. Louisa frowned tightly and touched your arm. 
She had been too young to form a true relationship with your father by the time your parents were divorced, and your grandparents (and later you) hadn’t allowed Jon to interfere too much with Louisa's life. So Jon’s death, a mere seven months ago, hadn’t truly affected her as deeply as it had you. 
And that in itself was complicated. 
Marie paused in preparing the sweet potato casserole to give her sister a warning look. 
“Trina, that’s not fair,” said Marie. 
Your aunt shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
Slowly, you stood. You grabbed a hand towel and brushed the velvety remains of potato skin from your hands. You also took the plate of cheese cubes and salami with you. 
“Honey, she just means—” 
“I know what she meant, Mom,” you said. Your mother wasn’t confrontational. She would never tell her sister to shut the fuck up when she was being out of pocket. 
But you had no problem doing so. You walked over to Trina, who saw the look in your eye and actually relented, realizing that there was, in fact, a line, and she had crossed it. 
“Look, I’d like us to continue having a nice evening,” you told her. “Mention my father again, and it won’t be.” 
After a moment, Trina nodded. 
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t mind me,” she said. But then, she smiled. “I’m really happy for you, sweetheart. You’ve got a superhero! Who knew you’d pull that one off, huh?”
Your flat smile remained. “Oh, yeah? How do you mean?” 
Trina faltered. Apparently, she hadn’t expected that. 
“Oh. Well, you know…”
“No. I really don’t. Can you clarify for me?” you asked, using the same even tone you employed with testy co-workers on the Surveillance team. 
Trina sighed. “Oh, honey. You’re a beautiful girl, but…”
“What?” you challenged. “Just say it.”
Behind Trina’s coil of dark hair piled on her head, Marie looked worried. Louisa was also on tenterhooks, gripping the kitchen table. She slowly got to her feet though, in case she needed to intervene. 
“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Trina said. She gestured to you, after grabbing a cheese cube off your plate. “But your hips, hun. I mean, I enjoy a snack. A bon bon. A chocolate eclair. The occasional croissant, but the weight don’t come off easier as you get older, does it?” 
You were officially burning like a tea kettle.  
“And with a man like that…” Trina fanned herself with the discarded, empty bag of cranberries. “Mother of God. He’s gotta be beating ‘em off with a fucking stick.” 
Your mom pursed her lips at the salty language, giving Trina a sharp glance (for multiple reasons). 
Trina noticed, but she only popped another piece of salami into her mouth. “Sorry, hun.” 
But then she turned back to you. 
“And have you talked about kids yet? That’ll be some serious weight gain.” 
You let out a sharp breath and raised your gaze heavenward, pleading for mercy. 
“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.  
“I’m just sayin’!” she said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.” 
Now that one struck a nerve. Perhaps not the one she intended, but it cut deeply into you all the same. You and Ben had agreed to pin that conversation for now, but the fact was, he would continue to age much slower than you. 
At your steely glare, Trina again raised her hands. This time in placating defense. “I’m trying to help you, is all I’m saying.” 
You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so tight you thought a manicured nail might break off. You’d reached the end of your tether. 
“I’ve been here for all of five minutes—” 
“Okay, you know what?” Louisa finally stepped in and grabbed your arm. “I need your help. Let’s find the red tablecloth so we can set the table.”
She led you out of the kitchen and into the hall, but you stopped short so fast that you skidded a bit in your heels. You took deep breaths and braced a hand against the wall.  
You turned to your sister. “Why doesn’t she attack you like that?” 
“Oh, believe me,” Louisa said, rolling her eyes. “I had my turn before you got here. I’ve been locked in with these clucking hens all morning.” 
A grin twitched at the corner of your lips. 
“My condolences,” you said. But then, you look at your sister a bit harder. “And you. What’s your problem, huh? How long are you going to give Ben a hard time?” 
It took her a moment, but Louisa eventually sighed. 
“I mean, Aunt Trina’s an asshole, but she kind of said it. He’s literally a century-years-old,” she said. “How do you not have a problem with that?” 
You crossed your arms, though you knew you didn’t have a good answer for that one. 
“Age is…relative.” You struggled against a wince. 
“He lived through the damn Dust Bowl,” Louisa deadpanned. “He’s fucking ancient.” 
You glared back at her. “Okay, enough. What’s your real problem, huh? I mean really.”
Louisa let out another sigh. Her hands went to her hips. You hadn’t had a chance to tell her, but she looked pretty tonight too in her black dress. It flared at the waist and reached her knees, and she’d paired it with some chunky red heels. She was a little taller than you normally, but not by much. As the older sister, you enjoyed finally being taller than her for once in your higher heels. 
Still, you were annoyed with her right now. You sensed she had something deeper against Ben, and it wasn’t all about his age. When she eventually answered, it just confirmed your suspicions. 
“He’s dangerous,” she said at last. “He’s so fucking dangerous.” 
That disheartened you. Your lips pressed, and you held onto your own arms a bit tighter. 
“Not to me,” you replied. Louisa’s frown deepened as her brows knitted together.
“Especially to you,” she said. “He kidnapped you.” 
You gave a wan smile. “Not technically.” 
That had been one of his subordinates, who’d taken you outside of Ben’s orders…
It was a long and complicated story, but basically, it had worked out for both of you in the end. 
Louisa gave you a more incredulous look. “He’s got an atomic bomb in his chest.” 
“He’s working on controlling it,” you insisted. “He’s gotten a lot better!” 
Louisa threw her hands upward in exasperation and turned to leave you in the hall. You stopped her with a hand on her arm. 
“Look, I get it,” you said, meeting her gaze directly. “You’re worried about me. But here’s the thing…you don’t have to do that. I’m the one who looks out for you, remember?” 
Once again, she frowned at you. “Why, just because you’re older?” 
You gave her a teasing smile. 
“Well, yeah.” Still, you grasped both of her arms, now crossed in front of her chest. “Lou, haven’t I always taken care of you?” 
“Okay, yeah,” she said. “But who takes care of you? Who makes sure you’re all right?” 
You gave her a patient, if knowing look. 
She grimaced. “Oh, don’t you say it.” 
“Honestly, Lou. He does take care of me…he makes me feel safe.” You bit your lip, and your eyes began to well up with the sting of tears, emotion rising in your throat. “I’ve never had that. Ever.” 
Your sister released a heavy sigh. “I know.” 
“Then can you actually try to get to know him? Please?” You rubbed her arms, pleading with your eyes. You wanted your family to like your boyfriend, but it was so much more than that. You didn’t want to have separate worlds. Everyone in this house was part of your family, and that now included Ben.
The longer she looked into your imploring eyes, Louisa’s grimace lightened, just a touch. “I’ll think about it.” 
You smiled then, warmly as you hugged your sister. You then kissed her on the cheek, leaving the bright red imprint of your lipstick.
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When you went back into the kitchen, your better mood was ruined pretty quickly by watching your aunt run your mother around the kitchen with demands and instructions. You decided to jump into the fray, taking a large serving bowl out of Marie’s hands before it tipped over.
“How’s the ham doing?” you asked. 
“About half an hour or so, I think,” Trina said. “Maybe forty-five.”
“Okay, and what’s left?”
“Let’s get the desserts ready.”
While your help sorely relieved your mother, it was actually a terrible idea for your mental health. When you could take no more of Trina’s irritating, commanding voice in your ear, you had to take a breath (as well as down a full glass of wine). 
You wordlessly asked Louisa to tag in for you before you traveled into the living room. 
There you found Ben immersed in a baseball game with Grandpa George. Both men only looked up at you when you stood near the couch with crossed arms. Your nerves were on edge, your blood still just short of boiling, but you took pains to look pleasant.
“Who’s winning?” you asked.
Ben quirked a smile at the sight of you, while George gave his more freely.
“5 to 3. It’s close on the Mets,” he said. You realized then that you hadn’t even hugged your grandfather yet. 
“Oh my God, Grandpa! I’m so sorry,” you said with a frown. You went over to hug him. “Trina has me all out of whack.”
George chuckled and patted you warmly on the back. “Why do you think I’m out here?”
You sighed with a wry smile. You then turned to Great Aunt Sylvia, who was still passed out in the recliner. 
“Aunt Sylvia?” you tried. You went over to her and touched her arm. 
“Leave her be, hun,” George told you. “Only the smell of food’ll rouse that woman.” 
Your smile deepened. Then you turned to Ben, who’d been watching you with reserved interest. He’d never seen you with the rest of your family before.
You went to him on his side of the couch and asked, in a tone deceptively light, “How about a tour of the house? You haven’t even seen it all.”
He could admit, it was a fairly big house for just your mother, but he was more interested in the game. 
“I’m watching this,” he said, gesturing at the screen. However, when he saw the tight press of your lips, he knew something wasn’t right with you. You were trying to tell him something with your eyes, he just didn’t know what.
You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.
“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. “Now.” 
The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.
Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged. 
“A tour it is.” 
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AN: Just when you thought you'd seen the last of my BMD cliffhangers. 😏
How'd you like Ben's introduction to his girlfriend's family? I also sincerely hope you don't have an "Aunt Trina" in your life. 🙄
Next Time:
He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips. 
“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”
Keep reading: PART 3
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Soldier Boy Masterlist
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Tag List:
@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26
@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort
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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92
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sailor-aviator · 4 months
Text
Sleeping With the Fishes
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Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader
Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)
Trigger Warnings: Language, Dead animals, Injury to self, Reader is a bit of an idiot, Baboons, Bradley not understanding boundaries, The boys make fun of Boots. I think that's it.
Word Count: 3.2k
A/N: He's finally here! What do you guys think?? This blog is 18+ ONLY! As always, reblogs and comments are welcomed and encouraged!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where all of my stories and drabbles are posted! If you would like to be added to the Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw tag list, please click the link below!
Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List
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You woke up to the sound of yelling coming from the boys’ tent. You scrambled out of the sheets, barely pulling on a pair of shorts over your underwear before running out of the tent and towards the camp. All three men were standing outside the tent, looking uneasily at each other.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, a little out of breath from your run. “What happened?”
“Well,” Bob started, glancing over at Jake as the blond ran a hand through his hair.
“Wild man left a goddamn fish in my bed,” he snapped, glaring disdainfully into the tent.
“He what?” You questioned, pushing past them to look in through the opening. Sure enough, a large, bloody fish sat atop the usually pristine sheets. You grimaced, backing up to stand with the others. “What kind of fish is that?”
“What?” Jake hollered, looking at you incredulously. “Who gives a shit? There’s a fish in my bed, Boots!”
“Do you think he’s threatening you?” Javy asked thoughtfully, stroking the length of his jaw as he eyed the fish. Jake turned to look at him, a surprised look on his face as if the thought only just crossed his mind. He looked back at the fish with pursed lips.
“Bradley isn’t like that,” Bob assured, placing a gentle hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“There’s a fish in my bed,” Jake gritted out, waving wildly towards the tent. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
“Quit being such a baby about your gift,” you scowled. Jake began to splutter, face going red as he fought to form a coherent thought. At that same moment Ice and Maverick came walking up from where they had been fixing dinner.
“What’s going on?” Maverick asked, glancing around at your little group. Jake pointed a finger into the tent, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The two older men pushed past you and Javy to peer into the tent, their eyebrows shooting up their foreheads at the sight.
“Huh,” Maverick laughed out. “He must have seen you working with the plants this past week.”
Jake stared at him for a second, blinking slowly as he processed what the brunette just said.
“Pardon?”
“He sees me growing some of the food here,” Maverick explained, gesturing towards the small patch of land he had set aside to grow some vegetables for the camp. “I use fish from the river to help fertilize the crops. He helps me with it sometimes, in fact. He must have thought you’d want some fish to help with your research.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” you sighed. Jake stared at you, an unreadable expression that slowly morphed into one of distraught.
“But,” he murmured, waving uselessly back at the fish, “my bed? Why?”
“Now that is a bit of a mystery, I’ll admit,” Maverick hummed, staring confusedly at the bed. Ice rolled his eyes.
“Is it though?” He muttered, giving you a knowing look. You shifted uncomfortably. Surely he wasn’t implying…
“Boots, we’re going to have to take a raincheck on going down to the waterfall,” Jake sighed, looking at you now.
“What?” You frowned. “No way! It won’t take you that long to clean up! We can just go after!”
“This is going to take me forever to clean up,” he argued, shaking his head. “No, we’ll just go tomorrow or something.”
“Jake, if I have to spend one more day in this godforsaken camp, I’m going to lose my mind,” you scowled. “I’ll just go on ahead and you can meet me when you’re finished. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like a terrible idea,” he frowned. “The jungle is dangerous, Boots. God only knows what’s out there waiting to snatch you up.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” you snapped, glaring at him. “I’m just as capable as the rest of you. I can take care of myself. Javy, tell him.”
Javy sucked in a breath, eyes darting between the two of you as you waited for him to say something.
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable getting in the middle-”
“Useless,” you hissed, turning back to Jake. “Jake Seresin, I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. I’ve done this plenty of times before when you aren’t here to infantilize me.”
He mulled over your words, glancing at the others before sighing.
“Fine,” he relented, “but don’t go too far, okay? I’ll join you when I’m finished with this. Hopefully, it won’t take me too long.”
You smiled in victory, turning to head back to your tent and get ready. It didn’t take you long, just changing into a fresh set of clothes and filling up your canteen with water before grabbing your backpack. You were just about to leave camp and head towards the falls when Maverick stopped you.
“I packed you some lunch,” he said, handing you an old container. You took it from him, smiling gratefully as you shoved it into your backpack.
“I’m guessing there’s something else you wanted to say to me?” You asked, earning a chuckle.
“Just,” he hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets as he gazed into the jungle, “be careful. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jake, but Bob and I spotted a leopard by the river not too long ago. It’s possible it’s moved out of the area, but I wanted to let you know just in case. Just stay vigilant.”
“Yeah, I will,” you smiled, readjusting the strap on your shoulder.
“I’m sure Bradley will be keeping an eye on you too,” he added. “You should be fine.”
“Thanks, Mav,” you nodded, turning and heading into the jungle before you.
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The sun shone brightly, some of the rays penetrating through the canopy above. It was strange being out in the wilderness by yourself, the strange new noises keeping you slightly on edge as you continued to trek through the leaves. You took another swig from your canteen, the cool liquid easing the unsettling warmness that surrounded you. You tried in vain to wipe away the sweat accumulating on your forehead, letting out a frustrated sigh and grunt of disgust when you just ended up smearing more sweat onto your face. You shoved the canteen back into your pack, stopping when you heard a chattering sound coming from up above.
You looked skyward, seeing a couple of baboons racing along the trees. You grabbed blindly for your notebook, eager to jot down some notes and sketches of the creatures for Ice and Bob to go over when you returned. You trotted after them, now digging in your bag for a pen as you continued after them. The baboons noticed you, chattering at each other loudly as they took you in. Seeming to taunt you, they waved their arms at you, tilting their heads as if to say “can’t catch me.” You huffed out a chuckle, twisting and turning through the trees as you chased them. You were so caught up in trying to jot down some notes that you didn’t notice the dip in the ground or the tree root that arched out of the dirt beneath you. You fell with a panicked yelp, hitting your head on another one of the large roots, the world going dark around you.
You weren’t sure how long you had been out, probably not too long since the sun still beat down through the canopy. You touched the sore spot on your head, wincing at the slight sting, but sighing with relief when you checked your fingers and found no blood.
The baboons were still shrieking and chattering above you, almost as if they were laughing at your unfortunate predicament, and you cast an errant glare upwards at them. Damn monkeys.
An ache rippled up your leg from your ankle, and you bit your lip as you shuffled back to lean against one of the trees, hoping against all odds that you hadn’t done anything too bad to it.
Your head pounded, a wave of dizziness running through you that was most certainly not helped by the intense humidity and heat of the jungle. You let out a groan as you experimentally moved your ankle, hissing when a jolt of pain ran up your leg. Yeah, definitely sprained. You huffed out a sigh, leaning your head against the trunk of the tree.
The cacophony of noises did little to ease your aching head, and you wished you had waited for Jake to finish cleaning his bed like he had insisted. Now you were stuck out in the jungle, hoping and praying someone would find you before something else did.
You groaned at the thought of what Jake would say if he could see you now. That smarmy look he’d give you as he looked you over. The “I told you so” that would follow. You would never hear the end of it, but a chilling thought ran through you. The guys had to find you before Jake could be his insufferable self, and as far as they knew, you would be down by the waterfall. How far away were you? You scolded yourself for straying away from the trail markers that had been laid out. How was anyone supposed to find you now? You sniffled, biting back the tears that threatened to spill over.
You checked your canteen, grimacing at the sound of the half empty container. Setting it down with a thud you gazed at the canopy above, wiping the sweat from your brow. It could be hours before someone realized you were missing. You hoped sooner.
Another wave of emotion rushed over you, and this time you allowed yourself to let a few tears slip down your cheeks. How could you be so foolish?
The sound of rustling foliage drew your attention across the small clearing, your heart rate picking up at the sound. Your thoughts raced back to what Maverick had told you before you left the camp. Bob and I spotted a leopard by the river not too long ago. Inwardly groaning, you lamented about your situation, hoping that whatever was hiding in the foliage wasn’t a giant cat. You stayed as still as possible, praying for whatever it was to continue on. From the sounds of it, whatever it was, was huge, and it was getting closer.
You gripped your canteen in your hand, ready to throw it at whatever came out of the dense leaves. It wouldn’t do any lasting damage, but perhaps it would daze the creature long enough for you to scramble away and towards help. Surely Jake was done by now? How long had you been out here?
You bit back a shriek as the leaves parted to reveal...a man?
He was tall—huge really, and so unfairly handsome. Tanned skin stretched across bulging muscles, caramel brown hair curling at the top of his head. It was his eyes though, that captured your attention. Deep, mesmerizing honey-colored eyes that stared at you intensely, as if trying to make sense of you.
"Who the hell are you?" You asked, voice tight as he crouched down, inching closer to you with slow moments. "Where did you come from?"
He didn't answer as he crept closer, his movements almost like that of the apes you observed during your travels. His hand reached towards you, his knuckles brushing against the tips of your fingers. You jerked your hand back, regarding him wearily.
"Human?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.
"Me?" You spluttered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Of course I'm a human! What did you think I was?"
His eyes narrowed at you, his lips pressing into a thin line as he seemed to consider you.
"Not like any human I have seen," he spoke, his English seemingly broken. "What kind?"
It took you a second to figure out what he was asking you.
"I'm a woman," you told him, a sense of unease filling you. Was this the man that Ice and Mav had told you about? What was his name again? Bradley, right?
“Seen you at the camp,” he continued, watching you for a moment. “Smell good.”
Your cheeks warmed even further at the comment, and you cleared your throat before shifting where you sat, wincing as the movement jostled your ankle. Bradley glanced down at the swollen appendage, frowning at the redness that seeped to the surface.
“Hurt?” He asked, leaning forward, his face so close to yours. You swallowed thickly, eyes roving over his face and hesitating on his lips. The facial hair that sat atop it wasn’t a bad look on him, quite the contrary actually, and for a second you wondered what it would be like to feel it on the skin of your thighs as he-
You blinked rapidly, trying desperately to clear the depraved thoughts from your head. You chalked it up to the combination of the African heat and the fact you hadn’t been laid in God only knows how long. You cleared your throat and briefly met his gaze before looking away.
“Yes,” you answered him, cursing at the shakiness of your voice. “I think I hurt my ankle when I fell. Do you think you could go back to the camp and tell the others where I am?”
Bradley frowned at you before shaking his head.
“Boots hurt,” he rumbled. “Can’t leave here.”
“Then how do you expect the others to—hey!”
You yelped when Bradley slid one large hand under your knees, the other coming up to rest on your back as he lifted you off the ground. You scrambled to find purchase, finally wrapping your arms around his neck, eyes widening when he turned to look at you, face so close, your noses were practically touching. You tried desperately not to think of the hard curves of muscle you were being held against, willing yourself to think about anything else.
“This is,” you began, swallowing thickly as you stared into his eyes, “this is not the most practical way of doing this.”
He stared at you for a moment, blinking at you in confusion.
“Practical?”
“You know,” you mumbled, tearing your eyes away from him, “the best way to do this.”
He frowned at that, giving you a challenging look as his grip on you tightened. You gasped as he held you closer, a spark of mischief in his eyes.
“Can you walk?”
“What?” You blinked. He chuckled, bringing his face even closer to yours which was not helping you form a coherent sentence.
“Can you walk?” He repeated, the corners of his lips tugging up just a hair. You processed his question, scowling at him once you realized he was messing with you.
“No,” you huffed, meeting his gaze with a glare. He gave you a smirk as he turned and started walking through the jungle.
“You don’t have to be so smug, you know,” you grumbled, relaxing a little when you felt confident that he wouldn’t drop you. He hummed, the smirk still painted on his face as he continued on.
“So you know what smug means, but not practical?” You groused. Bradley spared you a look before turning his attention back to where he was walking.
“Ice calls Maverick smug,” he supplied. You hummed, but didn’t say anything else as the two of you carried on.
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“Boots?” Bob asked as you and Bradley appeared from the jungle. He was standing by the fire pit, a confused look on his face as if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was looking at. Jake and Javy glanced up at the sound of your name, the blond scrambling to his feet when he saw you in the arms of the wild man.
“What happened?” He asked, crossing the distance to come stand beside you. Bradley let out what could only be described as a growl as he swung you away, fixing Jake with a glare. Jake gaped at him, jaw slack. “What the hell-”
“Bradley?”
All of you turned to see Ice and Maverick walking up from the other side of the camp, looks of concern as they glanced between you and the man whose arms you were still currently in.
“I, uh,” you stammered, glancing around at everyone. “I fell.”
“You fell?” Jake asked accusingly, already eyeing your swollen ankle.
“I was following some baboons,” you admitted, refusing to meet his gaze. You could already feel the accusatory look he was giving you. “I was taking notes, and I tripped over some tree roots. Bradley found me and brought me back here.”
“You were supposed to go straight to the river,” Jake accused.
“Yeah, I know.”
“You strayed off the path, didn’t you?”
“Jake-”
“Dammit, Boots,” he growled, running a hand over his face. “You could have been seriously hurt!”
“Speaking of,” Ice interrupted, moving forward to examine your ankle. “Let’s get you looked at. Bradley, would you mind setting her over here?”
Bradley looked over at the bench that Ice gestured to, pausing for a moment before walking over. He plopped down, situating you on his lap, his arms still wrapped around your middle. You let out an indignant squeak, glaring when both Javy, Jake, and Bob snickered, trying to cover them up with coughs.
“Looks like wild man is already attached,” Javy quipped, earning another glare.
“Why don’t you come over here and say that,” you snapped, feeling the heat on your cheeks grow even warmer. Ice looked like he was struggling not to laugh as he crouched in front of you, and you just barely caught the smirk that Maverick had on his face. You winced as Ice began his examination, biting your lip from the pain. You felt Bradley’s arms tighten around you, and you gripped onto his arm a little tighter to keep from crying out at the red hot spike of pain that shot up from your ankle.
“Looks like you sprained it,” Ice finally announced. You let out a groan, leaning back into Bradley as you rolled your eyes.
“Just my luck,” you grumbled. “How long am I stuck here for?”
“I’d say at least four,” he surmised. “Maybe six if you don’t keep off of it.”
“Looks like wild man will just have to carry her around everywhere,” Javy snickered, Bob and Jake joining in with him.
“Would you be quiet?” You growled. “This is going to be a nightmare!”
“Serves you right,” Jake smirked, that smarmy look you hated already on his face. “You should have waited for me.”
“I hate you,” you mumbled, crossing your arms with a huff. Ice chuckled, moving to stand.
“Bradley, would you mind bringing Boots to the medical tent for me? I should have a bandage for her to wear.”
You scrambled once again as Bradley lifted you, clinging to his shoulders as he began to walk after Ice across the camp. The three boys were barely holding in their laughter as they watched you, breaking out into fits of giggles as you flipped them off.
Bradley was none the wiser as he held you, his hold gentle as he took care to not jostle you too much. You supposed the next couple of weeks wouldn’t be so bad.
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pippintookish · 10 months
Text
a collection of moments from the translated trial of Joan of Arc from 1431 that are fucking iconic of her:
‘And then did We forbid Jeanne, without Our permission, to leave the prison which had been assigned to her in the Castle, under pain of the crime of heresy. “I do not accept such a prohibition,” she answered; “if ever I do escape, no one shall reproach me with having broken or violated my faith, not having given my word to any one, whosoever it may be.”’
“Was he naked?” “Do you think God has not wherewithal to clothe him?”
“I have always answered that you will not drag this from my lips. Go and ask it of him.” 
“You shall not have anything more at present.” (she gave variations of this response all throughout the trial/examinations. basically if she felt that god had not given her permission to speak on a subject, she just wouldn’t. she did not seem to acknowledge the authority of those questioning and judging her at all, which makes sense. She also frequently replied “that is not your Case” which I think is basically her saying that’s not relevant to this trial so none of your business.)
“I promise to speak truth on what touches your Case; but the more you constrain me to swear, the later will I tell you.”
“Who induced you to have cited a man of the town of Toul on the question of marriage?” “I did not have him cited; it was he, on the contrary, who had me cited; and then I swore before the Judge to speak the truth. And besides, I had promised nothing to this man.”
“If it should be that I am taken to Paris, grant, I pray you, that I may have a copy of my questions and answers, so that I may lend them to those at Paris, and that I may be able to say to them: ‘Thus was I questioned at Rouen; and here are my answers : in this way, I shall not have to trouble again over so many questions.”
“Did you give, or cause to be given, money to him who took Franquet?” “I am not Master of the Mint or Treasurer of France to pay out money so.”
“Upon the oath that you have taken, tell us, how did you think to escape from the Castle of Beaulieu between two planks of wood ?” “Never was I prisoner in such a place that I would not willingly have escaped. Being in that Castle, I should have shut my keepers in the tower, if it had not been that the porter espied me and encountered me.”
“If I had leave to go in woman’s dress, I should soon put myself back in man’s dress and do what God has commanded me: I have already told you so. For nothing in the world will I swear not to arm myself and put on a man’s dress; I must obey the orders of Our Lord.”
“Do you know if Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret hate the English?” “They love what God loves: they hate what God hates.” (I know that this is all about nationalism during war but this is still hilarious to me. like goddamn, okay! Also I have to note that the examiner follows up with “does God hate the English?” and she basically says she cannot know but I want does God hate the English on a tshirt)
“I had that ring in my hand and on my finger, when I touched Saint Catherine as she appeared to me.” “What part of Saint Catherine?” “You will have no more about it.” “Did you ever kiss or embrace Saint Catherine or Saint Margaret?” “I have embraced them both.” “Did they smell good?” “It is well to know, they smelled good.” “In embracing them, did you feel any heat or any thing else?” (yo WHY is this examiner such a FREAK stop being weird my dude!!!)
“I took it of my own free will, and with no constraint: I prefer a man’s dress to a woman’s dress.” (mood)
So struck by how she really did not see those prosecuting (and persecuting) her as valid authorities and she was not subtle about it. However you see Joan and the voices she heard, she was a brave and bold and relatably snarky 19 year old telling the people who did not accept her belief nor her existence as we would likely now see as a mentally ill/psychotic young woman in society to fuck off.
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sanguineterrain · 9 months
Text
if you give a spider a pastry... | miguel o'hara
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Summary: Mango turnovers and a bloody Spider-Man. Basically, a regular night in New York. 
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x baker!gn!reader 
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings/tags: injured Miguel (he's okay dw), brief arguing. mostly fluff and sass. first meeting.
A/N: hi y'all! I watched ATSV yesterday and the Miguel brainrot has advanced <3 this is my first time including Spanish in a fic. Since Miguel is Mexican, I did research and tried to incorporate Mexican slang. It's not the responsibility of any reader to correct me—however, I appreciate corrections of the Spanish, if offered. :) 
A/N 2: also, the timeline/universe details are vague in this one, but I pictured that the reader is not in Earth-2099. 
If you enjoy this fic, please let me know through comments and reblogs ♡
the divider
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Something is trying to crawl into your dumpster. 
You've armed yourself accordingly (got a dust broom out of the closet) and after fifteen minutes of agonizing over whether you should go outside or go to bed, you have decided you are going to deal with the pesky raccoon once and for all. Or cat. Or opossum. Whatever. You just hope it doesn't have rabies. 
Slowly, you edge open the back door of the kitchen to the bakery. You tap the outside railing a couple of times with your broom. Clink clink. There's no sound in response, so you step out a little further, hitting the broom bristles against the stairs. 
"Ba-boom, ba-boom!" you shout into the alley. You'd read you're supposed to make noise to scare off raccoons. Or was it bears? 
No, that doesn't make sense. When's the last time you saw a damn bear in New York? 
You wait, heart rate climbing. There's no more noise, so you open the door all the way and quickly shut it behind you, gripping the broom with both hands. You jump out into the open. 
The dumpster is covered, which is wildly embarrassing for you. However, right next to the dumpster is a giant dude in what you assume is a Spider-Man costume, though it's not like the one you've seen. 
His stomach is covered in blood.
"Holy fuck," you say, dropping the broom. "Shit. Fuck! Oh my—uh, s-stay right there, don't move."
"Sound advice," he says dryly, startling you. "I was going to do a little dance for you."
Okay. Blood loss has different effects on people. You can't take it personally; this dude has half his guts in the alley. 
You grit your teeth and pull out your phone, shakily typing in your passcode. As soon as you do, a glowing orange rope—web?—shoots out and yanks your phone right out of your hand. 
"No," he grits out. "Todo bien."
"Everything is not fine. What is wrong with you, dude? You're bleeding out!"
"I'm not bleeding out, dude; most of the blood isn't mine."
"Yeah, that's definitely not true," you say. "Look, I don't know what would possess a person to come out here ten o'clock at night and do… whatever this is, but I'm not letting someone die next to my dumpster. Give me my phone!"
"No," he says, hissing in pain as he shifts his weight. "You're overreacting and hysterical."
"Hysterical?" 
You can't see his face but you know he's rolling his eyes. 
"Can you relax?" he asks. "Chale, I'm not itching to bleed out next to your dumpster. I'll be on my way as soon as my body repairs itself enough for me to move."
"You're literally insane, man. Absolutely bonkers. You've lost your Silly String."
"Silly String…" he echoes.
You strut up to him and try to snatch your phone. He dodges you a couple of times, then swats at you like a cat. 
"Enough," he snaps. "Don't make me web you."
"Web me? Okay, you know what? Screw you, man. I'm not gonna call anybody. Bleed out for all I care. Keep the goddamn phone, I'll get a new one. Christ."
You pick up your broom and stomp up the stairs, yanking open the back door and slamming it behind you. Fucking New Yorkers. First rule of living here: mind your business! You try to be a good Samaritan and get verbally accosted by Spider-Man on steroids. Typical. 
You fume for about two full minutes, glaring angrily at your shelf of baking trays. Then you hear the bane of your existence groan in pain outside. All the anger leaves you. 
You can't just ignore him. Accelerated healing or not, he's vulnerable. What if someone tries to attack him? 
This is probably the worst idea you've ever had. You walk to the fridge anyway and pull out two mango turnovers. You nuke them in the microwave, which physically pains you to do, but you're in a time crunch, so. 
You open the door gently this time and step outside. 
"Spider-Man?" you ask quietly. 
You hear him sigh. 
"¿Qué quieres?"
You go down the stairs and walk so you're in view again. He hasn't moved from his position. Your phone rests on his uninjured thigh. 
"Sorry for yelling at you," you say. 
He stiffens, then looks away. 
"You don't need to apologize. I… Soy un cabrón."
"Yeah," you say, walking over and sitting across from him. "Little bit." 
He sniffs the air, his suit's eyes narrowing at you. You set the paper plate with the pastry on his thigh and take your phone back. 
"What's this?" 
"It's a mango turnover," you say. "I've been experimenting this week."
"Why is it on my leg?"
"What, did you think I was gonna feed you?"
"Take it," he orders. "I don't want it."
"Are you allergic? I have other flavors."
"The flavor is not the problem."
You bite into your own pastry. You puff out air, trying to cool it down. 
"Ih hah," you tell him through a mouthful. 
"Oh, really?" he deadpans. 
You swallow. "I'm trying to extend an olive branch here, Spider-Man. I think we got off on the wrong foot."
"Why did you come back out?" he asks exasperatedly. 
"I didn't want you to be alone," you say. "What if someone tries to pull off your mask and ruin your secret identity? That's, like, totally devastating in the superhero world, right?"
"And what exactly would you do if they did? Throw a pastry at them? Whack them with your broom?"
"I'm wily," you say, biting into your pastry. "You should eat it before it gets cold."
"No."
"They came out pretty good, if I do say so. Priya—she's my other baker—had her doubts, and I did too, honestly. But this seems like a success."
He remains stoic, likely glaring at you. You finish your pastry and flick the crumbs off your mouth. 
"You'd be doing me a favor, taste testing," you add. "Gotta make sure it suits other people's palettes." 
"I already did you a favor by getting rid of the people who did this," he says, gesturing to the blood. 
Your mouth pinches unhappily. 
"I wish you'd let me take you to the hospital."
"It's unnecessary. I'll be fine soon."
"You're nuts, Opossum-Man."
"Opossum-Man?" he asks, sounding comically offended. "I'm clearly a spider."
"I think that's subjective," you say. "But I'm only calling you that because I thought there was an opossum in my dumpster. Turns out it was you." 
"That's ridiculous," he says. "Wait, what do you mean it's subjective? I'm obviously Spider-Man." 
"Well, what are the pointy things under your eyes?" you ask. "Those throw me off. They look like fangs. I thought you were supposed to be a spider. Those are, like, bat features." 
"Spiders do have fangs," he says with a huff. "How do you think they incapacitate their prey?"
"I think you're giving the New York public school system way too much credit here, dude. I didn't learn all that. We had a unit about bees. How come there's no Bee-Man?" 
He scoffs. "What would that even entail? A guy who flies around pollinating the city?" 
You giggle. 
"You're kinda funny, Spider-Fangs."
"I do stand-up in my spare time. Speaking of…"
He pushes himself to stand with a quiet grunt. You stand with him, arm outstretched in case he needs help. Not that he'd take your help. But still. 
He's a big guy. You'd figured as much by his giant shoulders, but standing in front of him really puts it into perspective. You have to crane your head to see his face. 
He hands you the plate. You pull the saddest pout you can muster.
"You're not even gonna taste it?" you ask. 
"No."
"Okay," you mumble, defeatedly taking the plate.
He looks at you for a long moment, then tilts his head forward, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
"Mierda—okay, fine. One bite."
You bounce on your toes as he takes the turnover and lifts his mask up to his nose. You're transfixed by his exposed skin, the dark freckle on his jaw, his full bottom lip. Wow. 
He barely opens his mouth, biting the corner. He chews, swallows, and pulls down his mask. You miss the view immediately. 
"It's good," he says. 
"Holy crap, was that a compliment? Did Spider-Man call my pastry good?"
"I take it back." 
"You can't," you inform him cheerily. "I'm going to put it on my advertisements. Opossum-Man approved! Sales will skyrocket."
He walks away, limping only slightly. Well, you suppose that's better than how he was half an hour ago. 
"Good night!" you call after him. 
He pauses, then turns. 
"How are you getting home?" he asks. 
"Oh, I live right above," you say, pointing behind you. "No worries."
He nods. 
"Órale. Don't visit uptown for a while."
You salute. "You got it, Opossum." 
He flings a web string and then he's gone. It's only then that you look at the plate and realize he took the pastry with him. You can't help your little grin.
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lovelyhan · 10 months
Note
For svt hard thoughts what about perv!seokmin panty sniffer 🫣 like I imagine him just stuffing his face under your skirt, nose pressed against your panties, just jerking off to your scent alone… imagine him just being SO desperate but you have work to do, at your laptop at home so he’s just under your desk…pressed against the sink while you do the dishes…until you give in and just let him devour your pussy bc he’s being so distracting….ok bye hope that’s ok 😅
20:32 — SEOKMIN
Anonymous said: Hi, maybe dokyeom and tongue fucking for the hard thoughts?
oh my god you're both diabolical.... the image these asks painted in my head 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 seokmin is def the type to be so pussy drunk he'd live between your thighs forever if he could. anyway, this ended up becoming a little Long bc.......i ended up needing perv dk more than i should 🫠
cw: pussy fixation 🥴
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you love your boyfriend. he's the kind of guy your mother would be delighted to know her daughter is dating. someone who promises your father that he'd have you home by nine.
seokmin is the epitome of every green flag in a relationship and you'll never really get over how lucky you are to have someone like him in your life.
but there's a little something about your oh-so perfect boyfriend that both of your parents are better off not knowing about.
"seokmin."
you attempt to suppress a groan when you feel the gangly man nudging your legs apart beneath your desk—chuckling to himself as he hikes your skirt up your thighs.
"baby, if you really didn't want me snooping around like this, then you would've worn your lounge pants instead," he chuckles and while you considered giving him a lecture about how clothes are not an invitation to get felt up by your boyfriend, you can't make a convincing argument when that's exactly what you were hoping for.
there might've been an ulterior motive for your choice to forego lounge pants like seokmin said. you might've been pent up all fucking day, wanting nothing more than to have his mouth on you.
but thank god seokmin is a big enough pervert that you don't even have to feel embarrassed for being as needy as you are.
however, as much as you want him to just push your panties to the side and make you come on his tongue, you actually have work to do. you make that very clear to your perverted boyfriend as he presses his nose into the gusset of your underwear—breathing in the scent of budding arousal as he mutters something along the lines of, "fine, but i'm staying right here."
you should've told him to just wait for you in your bedroom while you get this report done. because right now, you're much too distracted by the way his face never strays too far from your clothed pussy.
one of his hands paw at your inner thighs as he greedily sucks in your scent through his nose. judging from the slick sound of something wet and sloppy coming beneath the desk, you're pretty damn sure that seokmin is jerking his leaking cock in his fist—pretending the tight grip of his fingers is your sweet cunt instead.
long story short, you got zero work done that evening—too fascinated with the sight of your needy boyfriend coming into his fist as he sniffed you through your goddamn panties.
it happens again when the weekend rolls around. you and seokmin just got home from a quick stroll at the market when you decided to wash the vegetables you purchased so you could prep them for lunch in half an hour.
you weren't even halfway in washing the carrots when you feel your boyfriend drift behind you—lithe fingers trailing up the hem of your short sundress as he gropes your ass a little too lovingly to be considered dirty.
"i couldn't stop staring at your legs the whole time we were out," seokmin whines into your ear, pressing fleeting kisses along your neck as his hands trail further into your center. "want you to smother my face with pussy so bad, baby. you didn't let me last time."
"that's because you worked me up too much," you complain but make no moves to reprimand him when he sinks to his knees—flipping the hem of your dress up as he nuzzles the cushion of your panty-clad ass. "you think i had the patience for you to go down on me when i could have you rail me with your cock instead?"
seokmin chuckles breathlessly, taking the waistband of your underwear between his teeth before dragging the fabric down your hips with the help of his hands. you waste no time stepping out of the offensive garment—arching your back so you could present your glistening slit to your perv of a boyfriend.
"as much as i love feeling you come around my cock, nothing compares to getting a taste of this sweet pussy," he sighs before smoothing his hands across your thighs to part your folds—making you shiver at the sensation of the cool kitchen air against your cunt. "you always taste so good for me, baby. if it was up to me, i'd eat this pretty cunt everyday."
"liar," you huff. "just last night you said you'd do anything to have your dick inside me for the rest of your life."
"well, i'd also do anything to have your pretty pussy on my mouth for the rest of my life," seokmin argues but before you can rebut, he licks a long stripe from your clit all the way to your leaking entrance—making any sort of argument turn to dust in your mouth as your hands grip the sink tightly.
"good?" your boyfriend asks, and you don't have to face him to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.
feeling the last dregs of your self-control finally slip away, you move to press your arms against the edge of the sink for more stability—pressing your head against your wrists as you feel your cunt pulsing with need.
"just get on with it."
"what was that?"
throwing him a dirty look over your shoulder, you say, "lee seokmin, if you don't make me come on your mouth in the next five minutes, i'm banning sex for a month."
now that catches his attention–making seokmin peek from under the skirt of your dress with a scowl. "not even oral?"
"yes. now get on with it 'cause the clock is—oh!"
of course your boyfriend's sex-crazed brain is quick to act at the threat of having his pussy eating privileges revoked. seokmin flattens his tongue against your cunt, making come hither motions with his fucking tongue in a way that drags against both your clit and puffy hole.
your legs tremble with each pass across your folds but seokmin doesn't have any plans on letting you take it easy. he pins your hips against the edge of the sink to keep you from squirming, sucking and slurping your juices before easing two fingers easily into your slick entrance. the intrusion makes you gasp, bucking your hips against his hand as he continues the merciless assault of his tongue.
"f-fuck," you whimper, walls squeezing around his digits as you focus on the feeling of his sinful tongue against you. "baby, feels so good, shit."
"yeah? turn around for me, sweet thing," he murmurs into your pussy and you bemoan the loss of his fingers when he slips them out of you. "hop on the counter and spread these pretty legs for me."
the vegetables are long forgotten as you do as you're told—half-lidded gaze trained on your boyfriend as he stares at your spit-slicked cunt like it's a national treasure.
"fuuuuuck," he sighs, pressing breathy kisses along your inner thighs as he adjusts his position on the floor. it must be uncomfortable as hell, squatting just to get his face leveled with your pussy, but seokmin is anything but a quitter. "can't believe this sweet cunt is all mine."
the next thing you know, he's diving back into you—the sharp curve of his nose pressed against your clit as he crams his tongue into your entrance. the added stimulus makes you moan in delight, finally realizing why seokmin wanted to eat you out like this instead as your fingers find their way into his hair.
"baby, your tongue's so fucking good to me," you mewl. "'m so close, kyeomie. need to come on your mouth..."
seokmin inhales sharply through his teeth—those usually sweet eyes of his clouded with lust when his gaze momentarily flickers up to you.
he's relentless with his ministrations—licking up each surge of arousal that leaks out of your hole before slurping it all with his tongue. seokmin eats pussy like it's a fucking art form and before you know it, you're creaming against his face, rolling your hips against his nose and lips as you ride out your high.
your boyfriend's mouth doesn't stray too far even as you lose yourself to the tides of release. he continues laving at your cunt as if it's the last day he'll ever get a taste and if the iron-tight grip he has on your hips doesn't leave bruises, you'll be really disappointed.
by the time your orgasm subsides, you're a boneless, twitching mess on top of the sink and seokmin fills your ears with an endless string of praises as he helps prop you up.
"my beautiful baby's always so good to me," he murmurs, kissing you softly and you try not to get turned on when you taste yourself on his lips. "you don't care how much of a perv i am, don't you? 'cause you're just as perverted yourself. letting me have this sweet pussy anytime i want. you're an angel, baby. the sweetest angel out there."
your breath comes in broken pants as you make starry eyes at the sweet, loving smile that seokmin cracks your way. how does someone who looks like this have the filthiest come out of his mouth?
then again, that's just one of the many things you love about lee seokmin.
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