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gurugirl · 24 days

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The Handyman

Summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for.

A/N: This was requested! Also if you'd like to see early access content like this (plus more exclusive content) consider joining my Patreon! xoxo

Word Count: 10.9k

Warning: smut, mentions of a close relative dying, and tons of sweetness

When you pulled up the long dirt driveway to the old estate you used to spend your summers at, it was as if you could feel your aunt Gayla’s presence all around you again. You could remember running through the fields and the trees and dawdling your afternoons away on the big wraparound porch with extra sweet lemonade and book after book.

Your aunt would have her old radio playing with records or cassette tapes, volume turned up so loud you’d be out climbing a tree a quarter mile off and could still hear the sounds of Credence Clearwater Revival or Stevie Nicks crooning over the distance. When the sun would begin to dip in the sky, oranges and pinks coloring in where it was bright blue just before, she’d change the record to Bill Withers or maybe even Louis Armstrong and she’d call you in by screaming at the top of her lungs that it was time to eat. But when you’d arrive she’d pull you into her arms and dance with you and tell you how important it was to read, write, dance, and love.

And everything she did and the way she lived her life had the biggest influence on yours these days. She had been your favorite person, next to your mother of course. But your mother died when you were 17 and your aunt filled in to help raise you when your dad was overwhelmed with the loss of his wife and trying to reign in a hormonal and emotional young woman. He tried his best but you knew it was lucky your aunt stepped up to help guide you into adulthood.

So it came as almost no surprise to anyone when your aunt passed and she left you everything she had. At the time you didn’t realize she had so much. At the reading of the will, it was just you and your father. The lawyer said you’d be inheriting her estate and every dime she had to her name. But when he read off the number, well, that part very much came as a surprise.

It was a life-changing number. And her old, huge house set on 16 acres in that old, small town was worth far more than you ever imagined it would be. You were advised to sell it at first. And you certainly considered it. What would you be needing with so much space all by yourself so far away from the big city you currently lived in? That money could just be piled on top of the already large sum she’d left you.

But the more you considered selling it the more you hated that idea. All the wonderful memories you had there, all that gorgeous space with expanses of marble and hardwood and tall trees and meadowland could be a sanctuary. It could be a place for you to live. To enjoy the large space, tall ceilings, and windows, the sunrises and sunsets… To play music loudly and dance in front of your oven as you baked muffins and write to your heart’s content.

It could certainly be far better than your studio apartment that cost nearly as much in rent as what you made working your ass off at the paper. You could move out of your rundown, mouse-infested building and fix up the old estate to your liking. You could quit your job and begin writing full-time like you always wanted. Your aunt’s house would be the perfect place to begin your new adventure. A refuge of peace. An oasis of your own to spark inspiration and creativity.

And so here you were, standing with the key in hand on the big front porch, old, rotted boards bending and cracking as you stepped up to the door to open it for the first time in years. When your aunt had fallen sick, she’d been transferred to the city to live with your father as she was unable to care for herself during the end of her life. You helped as often as possible. On Saturdays, you’d take her to the park to sit on the bench and watch the birds and the trees and you’d chat about the books you were reading and life. You did that every Saturday until she could no longer be moved from her bed. But you were always with her every Saturday, by her side and holding her hand until she had no more Saturdays left.

You felt a surge of emotion as you walked through the space. The old funky vintage chandelier that hung over the dining table was covered in cobwebs. When your aunt had it installed you helped her paint the little ceramic flowers in various shades of green and yellow. It had been all white at one time.

But it was the window that stretched along the wall that overlooked the back acreage that drew you closer. Pulling the dusty curtains aside, sunshine filled the room. Sheets covered the furniture that had all been left behind.

The whole place was yours. And you had a great feeling about this next phase in your life.

. . .

After a week of cleaning, working in the garden, peeling wallpaper down, having a new refrigerator and oven range installed as well as a washer and dryer for clothes, and attempting to tear out wooden boards from the front porch all by yourself, you’d hit a wall. It was clear you’d need help to get the house in tip-top shape.

Scouring the internet for handyman recommendations, you were left feeling quite hopeless. So you made a trip into town to talk to the owner of the hardware shop you met some days earlier when you were buying paint and tools. He had mentioned he knew someone who could help if you ever needed. A local man who took over his father’s business. You imagined there weren’t a lot of people willing to make the trip out to the small town and then even further out to the old house miles from the main road.

When you arrived, as you expected, the place was empty aside from Mr. George shuffling about behind the counter. When he spotted you his face lit up in a grin, “Miss Y/n! How can I help you this Thursday morning?”

“Hi, Mr. George. I was uh, wondering if I could get the number of that handyman you were telling me about? I think I’ve done all I can do by myself at this point. Some of the electricity needs rewiring, the boards in the porch are rotting away–“

“Say no more, my dear. I’ll call him right now,” he placed his hand over the phone receiver, “We’ll see if he can make some time today or tomorrow and if not, I’ll bet he can fit you in next week for a quote.”

“Next week?” You frowned.

“Well, he’s the only one who runs the business these days. His pop passed away a couple of months back so I’m assuming he might be a bit busy. Good guy, though. I wouldn’t recommend him if I didn’t think he’d do your aunt’s place justice.”

You nodded. That would have to be good enough you supposed. If not this week, next week you figured would be okay. Things were different in the small town than they were back in the big city. Life moved a bit slower and that was something you would just have to get used to.

Mr. George dialed the number he pulled up from his desktop Rolodex as you patiently waited to find out if the recommended handyman would be interested in helping you or not.

“Harry! My boy! How are you?” Mr. George spoke into the receive with a big smile.

“Yeah… I’m well too. Hey, look,” he glanced at you, “I’ve got a lovely young woman here who needs some help with her new house… yes. It’s that old mansion off Timbert. The one about a two miles from the main road… exactly. Gayla’s old place… It’s her niece, uh,” he cupped the receiver and looked at you with his brows raised as you spoke your name to him, “her name is Y/n.”

Seemed everyone in this town knew your aunt. You watched George scribble down something on a piece of scrap paper before sliding it over to you and began to make a little small talk with the man called Harry.

It was a number and the name of the company, Styles and Son. Mr. George pointed at the paper, and looked at you, “Write your number down here for me.”

You picked up the pen he used and wrote your number with your first and last name next to it, handing the paper back to him.

Mr. George tore off the section with your number and nodded at you, “Okay, ready for the number?”

He read it off to Harry before looking at you and holding out the receiver, “Wants to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Oh, sure,” you reached for the phone and stepped closer to the counter so you could put it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hi. You’re Gayla’s niece?”

“Yes, sir. She recently passed and left the house to me and I wanted to fix it up a little.”

“My dad used to help Gayla out whenever she needed things done. I’ve never had the opportunity to see the inside but I’d like to come by maybe tomorrow afternoon when you have an hour or so to spare?”

“Sure! I’ll be home all day. Any time works for me.”

“Great. Let’s say around 2? I’ll give you a call before I head that way. George gave me your phone number, and make sure he gives you mine.”

“Oh yeah. He already did. I’ve got it written down here.”

“M’kay… well, I’ll see you tomorrow Y/n.”

“Sure! And thank you again!”

Mr. George took the phone from you and placed it into its cradle to hang up the call, “You know… Harry’s a single man. Bout your age. My wife says he’s a looker and I reckon you two might get along well.”

“Is that so?” You grinned at the store owner as you folded up Harry’s contact info and stuffed it into your pocket, “Appreciate this, Mr. George. So much. Truly.”

“Ahh, it’s nothin’. This small town is a close-knit community. We’re all here to help each other when we can.”

. . .

Instead of calling you, Harry texted when he was on his way over.

See you in half an hour. H

You smiled at the thought of finally getting some help in that big lonely house. Wiping the sweat from your forehead you climbed down the step ladder to freshen up a bit before Harry could arrive. You slid on a clean cotton dress, washed your hands and face, and then made some lemonade should he want anything to drink.

When Harry arrived you heard his truck clonking up the dirt driveway before you saw it. He’d been your first visitor so it was the first time you’d had the pleasure of hearing a vehicle driving toward your house (and didn’t it feel so weird to call it your house?). You watched out the window as dust kicked up from his tires. It was a big black truck. A decal on the side that read Styles and Son.

Walking onto your porch you waved to greet him as he stepped out, feet landing on the ground. His attire was simple. Jeans and a white t-shirt with a pocket at the front. Work boots. But what you couldn’t get over as he smiled and raised his big hand to wave back at you was how fit and broad he was. Tanned skin on his arms and tattoos up the length of one of them. Chestnut curls with touches of light brown and maybe blond hidden in the strands. He was tall and he was handsome.

“Y/n?” He smiled as he walked up the steps to your porch with his eyes on you. Green eyes.

“Yes! I’m Y/n,” you reached your hand out to him as he gripped it into his palm to shake.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve always wanted to check out Gayla’s house. Glad I’ve got the opportunity,” he looked down at the boards under his feet, “And first thing is,” he bent down and placed the heel of his palm into the wood, “this porch needs updating in a bad way.” He stood back up, soft green irises on you, “Feel how soft that is when you step over it?” He spoke as he demonstrated, pressing his foot into the floor of the porch.

You nodded, “Oh yeah. I already tore some of the boards out but I knew I couldn’t do all this on my own.”

Harry squinted at you and the way his eyes scraped down over your dress and to your feet then back up to your face had you tingling, “You tore out some boards on your own?” He nodded with an impressed look on his face.

Now you were feeling flustered. The sudden shift in temperature made it feel like your cotton panties were digging into your hips and your thighs too tight.

You laughed and shook your head, “Oh… I mean it wasn’t much. But…” you looked back up at him and watched as a lopsided smile took over his face, complete with a dimple, “You wanna come inside? See the place?”

“Absolutely.”

You pushed the front door in and let Harry pass through into the space. You watched him look all around and then walk toward the big front window and slide his hand over the wood frame, “Beautiful woodwork here,” he looked up toward the ceiling and then along the wall toward the archway into the dining area, “It looks like it’s probably throughout the house. We’ll be sure to keep this original,” he looked at you suddenly, “Unless you wanted to completely change all this. It’s up to you but I would suggest trying to maintain the existing features.”

“I would love to keep it original if possible. So… are you saying you’ll do this for me?”

Harry chuckled and ran his index finger under his nose, “Soon as I saw the place as I drove up the path to get here had my heart set on it. Of course, we’ll need to talk numbers and come to an agreement but I’m ready to start as soon as possible. What’s the electricity situation? Original too?” He looked up at the light sconce on the wall.

“I think it’s all original. Everything. Most likely all needs overhauled to bring it up to code. So… you don’t have other jobs you are committed to right now? Thought you were the only one?”

Harry raised his brows and looked back at you, “Hired a helper a couple weeks back. He can do all the odd jobs for me while I focus on this. Honestly, Y/n,” you scorched at the way he said your name so casually, “There ain’t tons of work around here. I usually have one or two small jobs a day. Garbage disposal repair, sodding a yard, shingle repair… we do bigger jobs too like tree stump removal, burst pipes, and things like that. One-offs usually.”

“Tree stump removal… you do all that?”

He nodded, “Yep. I do it all. Got the equipment from when my father was running the business. My dad and I were the only ones in town to do all this kind of stuff so we learned how to do just about everything.”

You showed Harry around the rest of the house and described what you thought you might want done. But watching Harry slide his hands over your baseboards and knock at the walls as he talked about what he’d do… you smiled and agreed with everything he said.

“I do want the wallpaper out, though. It’s a little too dated for my taste,” you ran your finger over the silk flower design wall covering and Harry put his palm over the wall and nodded, “We could look at other wallpaper if you wanted. Or were you just thinking paint?”

You bit your lip and leaned into the wainscoting, “Maybe a new wallpaper? What do you think is better?”

Harry mimicked your pose, placing his hip on the white wainscoting, and faced you, “There are some really high-quality wallpapers out there. In any pattern you can think of. Can also get them custom-made if you had the money for it. I’d get the wallpaper if I were you.”

You nodded, “I’ll be honest, Harry, my aunt left me a good bit of money and I’d like to restore the place with really nice quality things and finishes. Want it to look as beautiful here as it did the day it was built. I’m not too worried about how much it’ll all cost. Within reason of course.”

Harry pushed himself from the wall and clasped his hands together behind his back, “I’m really sorry for your loss by the way. Was a shock to everyone when we found out she passed.”

You nodded, “Yeah. I always thought she’d live forever. Spent so many summers here with her, climbing trees and dancing… just feels so weird that she’s gone now,” a small smile covered your face, “But also, I’m sorry to hear about your dad too. His recent passing.”

The smile fell from Harry’s face, “Did George tell you he passed?”

“He did. I’m sorry if bringing that up wasn’t–“

“No, it’s fine. I was about to tell you anyway. Hence the name of the business, Styles and Son. I’m the son part of it,” he grinned, “But yeah. He died and I took over the business. It’s been a struggle. I miss him but I think he’d be really pleased that I was getting the chance to fix this old place up.”

You offered Harry some lemonade and you both sat on the back porch together as you discussed what you wanted done first with the house. Of course, Harry already had a solid timeline in mind, he’d start with the electrical wiring and the rotten boards on the porch and make sure everything was up to code and safe before getting to the more superficial parts of the job. The garden and landscaping would come last.

Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.

“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”

You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.

Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.

But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.

And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.

You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.

Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.

“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”

“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”

He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.”

You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”

Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”

You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”

“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.

When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.

Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”

You sighed and nodded, “Yeah. I’ll get it. You don’t have to do all this. I promise I’m fine. Just need to kind of wake up I think.”

Harry nodded, “Okay. I’ll get back to work out there. Gonna be some loud hammering and noises for a while.”

You cleaned yourself up and put actual clothes on before making coffee and bringing a hot mug out to Harry on a tray. This time, you carefully placed your steps around the boards and scanned the porch to see open spaces and nails in a tin next to fresh boards.

Harry was crouched along the railing and prying a board from its spot when he looked up at you.

“Coffee? Wasn’t sure if you take it with sugar or cream… Or maybe you just want tea?” You placed the tray down as he stood up.

“That’s really nice of you. Thank you. I would love some coffee. Black is fine.”

He took the mug by its handle and brought it up to his lips to take a sip.

“And if you’re hungry I could make you something?” You watched him gulp down the hot liquid.

Shaking his head he grinned at you, “Maybe lunch in a few hours. I ate breakfast already. But you don’t need to go out of your way to make anything. I can go into town for a sandwich, which is what I usually do.”

“Oh no. I’ll make you something for lunch! I insist! I love the company anyway. That way you can kind of relax instead of driving back and forth just to eat. Unless you want to get away for a bit. I mean…” you started rambling. You couldn’t help yourself. Harry’s biceps were on full display as he lifted the mug up to his mouth again and you could just feel your own mouthwatering at the sight. You hadn’t seen a man so attractive in a long time. All the city guys you dated were nice enough… but then there was Harry. Tall with broad shoulders and lean muscle all over, deep pink lips and light green eyes… and dimples… and he was handy? God, you weren’t sure how long you could go before you started to become obvious about how much you enjoyed letting your irises rove over his frame. That is if it wasn’t already obvious.

He watched you go on and on about lunch and then offer up other suggestions with a small smile on his face until you stopped when you realized you were yammering, “Sorry.”

“You okay?” He grinned. He knew you were fine. But he did wonder if you were flustered because of him or if that was how you just were.

“I’m fine. Sorry. Get kind of long-winded sometimes. I’ll let you get to it. Um… if you do want me to make you lunch just let me know. And uh…” you paused and then realized you were about to start yapping again, “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice was soft as he spoke your name and you turned to look back at him, “Take a breath. It’s okay. We’ll have lunch together in a few hours. Yeah?”

You puffed out a breathy laugh and nodded before heading back inside with the tray that had sugar and milk atop.

You hadn’t considered it until then. Until you were placing the small crystal lid back onto the sugar bowl and putting the milk back into the refrigerator that your sudden burst of inspiration for the story you were working on was thanks to your handsome handyman. It also felt really good to have someone else there with you. Not that you didn’t feel safe there alone, but just having another presence near you was comforting.

And when you began to make up a lunch, something you hoped he’d like (you had to stop yourself from asking him if he’d want cucumbers and white cheese on his sandwich and just trust that it would be fine) you couldn’t help but peek out your window at him as he pounded his hammer down and wiped the sweat from his brow. His shirt was a bit damp as the sun was rising in the sky and the temperature with it.

Which then reminded you to plug in a fan so he could cool off while he ate with you. You set up the kitchen table and plugged in a fan to have it on for him as you both ate your sandwiches. As well as iced lemonade and chopped cherry tomatoes with basil and olive oil.

It was noon on the dot when you opened the door and poked your head out, “Lunch is ready if you’re hungry.”

Harry placed his hammer down and pushed himself up to stand as he nodded, “Thank you. Mind if I use the bathroom before?”

“Harry, you can use anything you want in the house. Feel free to come inside when you please. You don’t have to ask.”

“Well, thank you, Y/n. I appreciate it.”

You felt ridiculous as you paced your kitchen in wait for Harry to come in so you two could begin. The silly thoughts you had in your head about him had your heart lobbing around in your chest a bit too fast. You could just imagine (in the deepest little fantasy spot in your brain) that he’d take one bite of your sandwich and be so overcome by you that he’d have the sudden urge to lift you onto the table, push your dress up, and take you right there, knocking the lemonade down and forgetting all about the cherry tomatoes.

“Wow. This looks excellent. And you’re joining me?” He smiled as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes on the table.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you shrugged as you pulled a chair out for him, just in the path of the fan, “And if it’s okay, though I could have some with you. Keep you company. Unless I’m annoying you…”

Harry laughed and shook his head as he took his seat, “You’re the furthest thing from annoying, Y/n. In fact, I quite like talking to you. Sit,” he gestured at the spot where you’d placed your own plate with the sandwich. “The fan is a nice touch too. See, you’re just about the sweetest person I’ve ever worked for and it’s only been a few hours.”

You felt the skin on your cheeks heat up as you sat down in the wooden chair and looked at Harry. You really really tried not to look at him like that. But you could feel it oozing out of you as you batted your lashes and tilted your head down, your eyes still on him. You couldn’t help it!

And he saw it clear as day too. Grinning at you he took the glass of lemonade and gulped down about half as he watched you blink your eyes and then remove your gaze from his down to your plate.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said as he placed the glass down and picked up his sandwich.

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

. . .

Harry didn’t take days off. He was at your house at 8 am sharp every morning and every day you were sure to make him a big lunch and chat with him a bit. But every day you fell further and further into a little spiral of want and lust. It was ridiculous but he wasn’t doing anything to dampen the way you felt.

Like after one lunch, he took his thumb and wiped the mustard from the edge of your mouth so nonchalantly you felt your knees give out and he had to help steady you. But you didn’t miss his smirk. Like he knew just what he was doing.

Or the time when you were walking from your bathroom to your kitchen after a shower and he’d gone out to buy supplies so you thought you were alone but instead walked past the huge window in only your underwear and bra as you were talking to yourself. Yapping away about whatever in your panties as you turned to the sink to wash some dishes but then yelped when you saw him standing there looking in, an expression of surprise on his face.

You had never run so fast in your life up to your room to put something on. And you should have known better. What was wrong with you? Of course, you were quite absent-minded at times, but that was something on another level.

But then it happened again that he saw you in only your skivvies as you traipsed to your bathroom and had forgotten that he was rewiring the second-floor hallway lights.

“Hey, sweetheart… just wanted to remind you that I’m here,” his voice startled you and you balked as you apologized and shut the bathroom door with a loud slam.

“Sorry, Harry!” You apologized again with your heart rapidly thudding behind your ribcage.

You could hear his voice through the bathroom door, “Don’t need to apologize. Doesn’t offend me. Just wanted to remind you I was here is all – in case you weren’t keen on me seeing you in your knickers.”

And Harry was like that. So gentle and thoughtful and there was the tiniest bit of flirtatiousness there too. Which really kept you on your toes around him. Made you feel all hot and gooey. Maybe if he didn’t grin at you the way he did or if he didn’t wipe mustard from your lips or call you sweetheart or compliment you as often you wouldn’t feel that tension there all the time.

But he did and so you did.

Which then led to you working up the nerve to start asking him to say for dinner. He’d sit in your kitchen after using your shower to clean up and watch (you insisted he didn’t help) as you made something for the both of you to eat.

At first, he didn’t stay every evening for dinner because he wanted to get home to clean up and you didn’t want to push and make it seem like you were needy for his company.

But soon, after suggesting he just use your shower, it was every night, and he began to bring a change of clothes so he could clean up before eating. And it felt like you were in some kind of bizarre relationship. Or, that’s what you pretended in your mind anyway. And it was fodder for your writing so you played into the fantasy a little bit.

Of course, there were also all the times you caught him with his shirt off. By the time he began working inside the house summer was in full swing and the place had no central air conditioning so it could get rather hot inside.

And it wasn’t just that you caught him with his shirt off… it was that he caught you staring while he was sans shirt, a sheen of sweat on his chest and at the nape of his neck, muscles flexing and tensing as he labored to make your house gorgeous and well-functioning.

Harry Styles was sexy. He was kind. He was charming and funny. He was smart. And you wanted him. Wanted him in a bad way.

And the days and weeks that drew on that feeling and that lust did not falter. No, it only widened and grew strong, steady thick roots into the ground and became fortified and strengthened with every little bit of contact you had with him. You wanted him so badly you could taste it. Feel it. Smell it.

“Let me get it!” He scoffed at you as he pulled the lid from the pot that was boiling over while you were chopping the tomatoes. You told him to stay seated because you wanted him to rest, that you’d get the boiling pot. He’d worked so hard that day (as he always did) and you knew he must be tired. But he dipped the spoon into the bubbling water and turned down the burner to lower the heat for you.

“I can help, Y/n. I know you’re just being sweet cause you think I’m all tuckered but I don’t mind. Really.”

You smiled as you sliced into the tomato, “Okay. I just want to make sure you’re not working extra. You work so hard every day and I feel like this is the least I can do for you.”

Harry pushed a soft laugh out through his nose as he placed the lid back onto the pot, “The least you could do is pay me for my work. And that you already do. This,” he gestured around the kitchen, “Is above and beyond. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well, I just… I feel like we’re friends now and feels strange to send you home after,” you glanced at him to see that he was leaning his hip into the counter watching you in that way that he often looked at you. The one that made your skin sizzle.

When he didn’t respond you glanced at him again, “There’s a bottle of wine if you want to share? I think it’ll go really nicely with this dish.”

Harry pursed his lips and nodded, “Trying to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You chuckled in surprise and shook your head, “Of course not!” Placing the knife down you turned to him, “I was only just suggesting it if you want. I mean… you don’t have to. I didn’t think a glass would be all that bad–“

“I’m teasing. It’s okay. I’ll have some wine with you,” he laughed at the way you suddenly bristled, “Where’s the wine opener? I’ll pour us both a glass.”

The wine turned out to be the perfect accompaniment for the pasta dish you’d made. But you knew it would be. In fact, you’d gone into town the night before to the olive oil and wine shop and selected the wine for that exact purpose after asking the owner what she thought. You weren’t sure if he’d like wine or not but you liked wine and it was a really nice bottle. Which you could afford now that you had a bit of money to your name.

And Harry agreed it was good as he poured you both another glass after you’d both finished your plates.

“So what are you writing anyway?” Harry asked as he leaned back in his chair and set his eyes on you.

“It’s a romance. You wouldn’t be into it I’m sure,” you shrugged as you sipped your wine.

“Why are you so sure I wouldn’t be into it? I love romance.”

“Oh. I guess men aren’t usually my target audience or prospective target audience… I haven’t actually published anything. Sorry… I shouldn’t assume I guess.”

“Tell me what it’s about.”

You cleared your throat and shook your head, “Oh… it’s not done. I’m kind of too bashful to talk about it just yet.”

Harry leaned his elbows onto the table and kept his gaze on you, “Oh come on… Tell me. I won’t judge. I want to know what kind of story you’ve been working on. And then I’ll tell you a secret of my own. How’s that sound?”

You sat your glass of wine down and licked your lips as you let your pupils take in his pretty lips, “Uh… fine…” you sighed and smiled. You wouldn’t tell him the whole thing but perhaps you could just make it brief. “It’s about a woman who takes on a new adventure in life and she meets a man unexpectedly and he helps her kind of navigate her new life… uh… like they have this unspoken connection and feel quite comfortable with one another off the bat. And it leads to a whirlwind romance that ends happily ever after.”

Harry tilted his head to the side and stitched his brows together, “Y/n…” Harry spoke your name as if he were about to scold you, “Give me some detail. What kind of new adventure is this woman taking?”

You looked up at the ceiling and felt your neck heat up. If you told him the premise he’d figure out you were basically writing a story that was a fantasy version of what you and Harry were doing.

But you didn’t want to lie and you could just tell him to drop it but you didn’t want to do that either. So you gulped down the saliva in your throat and laughed as you looked at him, “She inherits a gorgeous old house from a family member with all the money she’d need to hire a man to help her restore the place.”

The pleased look on his face had you looking away from him and down at your empty plate in full embarrassment.

“I see. So you’ve had some real-life inspiration since moving in here then.”

You nodded, a small laugh falling from your lips, “Yeah.”

“And this man helping her restore the old house? He’s the one she has her whirlwind, happy-ending romance with?”

You put your hands over your face, “Oh my god. I mean… yes. It’s just inspiration, though… like it wasn’t–“

Your words were cut off when you heard his chair scrape over the wooden floors and felt his hand at your back, “You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s just a story. Wanna hear my secret now? Level out the playing field a bit here.”

You pulled your hands away from your face and looked at him. He was sitting right next to you, so close you could see the pores on his nose as he offered you a dimpled grin. His hand gently rubbed at your back.

“Level out the playing field?”

His soft grin deepened as he slid his pupils down to your lips, “Yeah. You told me something that’s kind of a secret. If you want me to tell you a secret I will… kind of make it even.”

You swallowed with a nod as he moved his eyes over the expanse of your face and it felt like warmth seeping into your skin.

“See… So here’s the thing…” he paused to make sure you were paying attention, “I’ve been working for this insanely sweet-as-pie woman for a couple of months now. Just falling in love with every corner of the house that I touch… getting fed fruit and coffee every morning, sandwiches in the afternoon with lemonade and a fan to help cool me down, and then lately it’s spread into dinner… just me and her eating together in her kitchen, talking about nothing and everything as the sun goes down and then I go home at night alone and find myself unable to stop thinking about her and the way she laughs and the way I catch her staring at me when I’ve sweat through my shirt…”

You were holding your breath as he spoke and it was making your head fuzzy and your heart thud and your skin light up as he slowly worked his hand up to the back of your neck, fingers grazing the skin… it felt like you were watching a movie play out before you. Like it wasn’t real.

“And I think to myself… what if she feels the same way about me that I feel about her? Ya know? I mean I’ve seen the way she looks at me. That can’t be an accident. And she’s even started to ask me to stay even later after dinner to have dessert and even though my stomach is always stuffed full of the food she’s fed me and I couldn’t imagine eating another thing I’m always tempted to stay a little longer with her. Just to see where it goes,” the pad of his finger worked up your neck as you turned your gaze down to your hand on the table, “To find out if her dessert is just as tasty as everything else she’s offered me. And of course, I have no doubt that it would be.”

You stayed quiet. You couldn’t believe he’d just said all that. Like he was reading your story and knew what you wanted to happen next. Slowly you brought your gaze back to his and spoke shakily, “Harry…”

“You want me to stay for dessert tonight, Y/n?” You could feel the brush of his thumb along one side of your throat and the press of the pads of his fingers gently on the other side, palm flat against the back of your neck. And that question. It meant more than what he said and you both knew it.

“Yes. If you want,” you swallowed and kept your eyes on his face as he lowered his gaze to your mouth again. His hand at the back of your neck tensed and you could feel him pulling at you, just the last few inches needed to brush his lips against yours in a tentative move, allowing you to breach the space completely, moving in and pressing your mouth firmly against his.

And it was everything. Warm and soft and wet and then he inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to paint his tongue over your lips and you responded in kind, using your tongue against his and you felt his free hand pull at your hip. You smoothed your hands up his strong arms and to his shoulders and your heart felt full and light all at the same time.

When you felt the fine hairs at the nape of his neck under your fingers he shifted and pulled at you, both hands gripping your hips and bringing you up out of your chair and placing your bottom on the sturdy wood of the kitchen table, the plates pushed to the side and your nearly empty glass of wine wobbled in its spot as he kept his mouth over yours and he fit himself between your legs.

“Always wearing pretty skirts and dresses for me, aren’t you?” His lips traveled down your jaw and pressed over the skin on your pulse point, “Been teasing me this whole time…” slow pecks down to your clavicle and then back up the other side of your neck as he planted his palms flat onto the table next to your thighs, “Just know you wanted me to see you in your panties all those times… acted all innocent like you didn’t know you were giving me a show…”

You gasped when you felt his teeth gently scrap at your jaw before pushing plush pink lips over the same spot, “Harry…” you breathed out his name.

“Mmm… love how you say my name too,” he spoke as he moved his mouth back over yours and it was game over. Teeth and tongues, and wet lips with moans as he slid a thumb under the hem of your dress to glide up your thigh. He pressed himself in further, making you lay back on the table, your saltshaker and napkin holder tipping over as he ran his hands up your sides.

“Is this what you wanted? All this time, Y/n?”

You moaned as he began to pepper his kisses down your neck once again, your body lighting up with every touch and whisper into your skin.

“Yes…”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you with his hands firm around your waist before he moved them down to push at your skirt, shoving the material up your thighs, “And what about this? Is this what you want too?”

You pushed yourself up by your elbows and nodded, “Yeah…”

Harry grinned as his fingers found your panties and he tucked his middle fingers into the band, “Wanna give me my dessert now?”

His light jade eyes were sparkling as he waited for your nod of approval, the small yes you peeped out had him tearing your panties down your legs, left to drape off your left foot as he pushed your thighs apart and moaned, “It’s the only dessert I’ve wanted since you first started offering. Smells so good too,” he dropped his mouth to the inside of your plush thigh and ran his big palms upward on the underside of your thighs to press your legs back and you gurgled a moan as you watched him dip down and tongue at your pussy, his wet muscle slicking upward from your entrance to your clit and then repeated, and repeated, over and over as he kept his eyes on yours until you were so slick he was barely making contact with your skin… your arousal had coated your pussy and his tongue in a thick layer.

“Fuck me… sweetheart… you’re gonna give me a toothache with all this sweet juice…” he spoke mindlessly as he lapped at you. He brought a hand down to your pussy, running his fingers through your crease as he pressed his tongue to your clit and kissed it, bringing it delicately into his mouth with a gentle slurp.

“Ahh! Harry!” You reached down to pull at his hair as your back arched up and your head fell back into the wood.

The moment Harry felt your grip on his hair he spread your pussy with his fingers and drove a digit inside, curling it in and brushing against the spot you loved to focus on when you fingered yourself, making your body shiver.

Your table was rattling from the movements you were making, the lewd act causing the wooden legs to shift and give slightly as Harry ate your pussy and moaned at your taste.

“Gonna let me have some every night now?” His words came out watery, and slurred as he continued working to get you off, “Gonna let me take care of you the way you’ve been taking care of me?”

You cried out in a gurgle when you felt another finger press inside as he flattened his tongue over your pussy, “Yes!”

Harry grinned into your pussy. Seemed all you could say at that point was a combination of yes and Harry. He loved how you were responding to him. Like it was all you ever wanted.

When he felt you roll your hips up and grind into his mouth he pressed your thigh down and dug in harder, flicking his eyes up at you from time to time, watching the way your chest rose and fell heavy, how your lips were dropped wide open with your eyes closed.

“Y’shaking so hard, sweetheart. You can come if you need to,” he slid his fingers into the last knuckle and back out as he spoke, lips grazing your wet clit as he did so, “You’ve been so good to me, you deserve a treat too…”

Your brain was in a fog, a haze that made it hard to hear or make sense of his words as your orgasm tiptoed its way through your tummy and down into your core, slowly sliding its way through your organs until it burst out of you and your limbs stiffened as you pressed Harry’s face into your pussy and moaned his name so loudly Harry figured it was a good thing you didn’t have any neighbors close by to hear what could sound like someone being attacked.

But in a way, you were being attacked. Harry’s lips and his tongue and his fingers ravaged you through your orgasm, never letting up or stopping until you gasped and pushed at him as you sat up with wet lips, burning cheeks, and dark eyes, “Oh god, Harry!”

The dirty smirk on his face was pure sex as he pulled his fingers out of your sticky pussy and slid you from the table, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to your room, his mouth on yours.

You began to squeak in protest as he lifted you and started up the stairs and you were certain it was too much weight or that he’d drop you but he was solid and strong and moved with ease, holding you tight under your bottom with one hand and his other at your mid back until he laid you on your bed with a bounce.

Harry began to pull his jeans down his strong legs and you watched as he undressed. It was the first time you’d seen his bottom half but just as his chest and shoulders and abs did not disappoint, neither did his masculine, well-muscled thighs and buttocks. The man was in incredible shape, thanks to good genes and hard manual labor you assumed.

When Harry peeled his shirt off over his head, the curls were pushed upward and he was left standing in your bedroom looking like a man ready to ransack your body with wild hair, tight boxer briefs hiding an erection that looked quite sizable.

Silently he kneed onto the bed between your legs and pushed your dress out of the way, “Let me see you, sweetheart. Is that okay?”

You helped him bring the dress off over your head and immediately reached up to unpluck your bra, the clasp at the front that once undone had your tits bursting out.

“Holy, fuck…” Harry dove down to your breasts, lapping and squeezing at each one and you placed your fingers back into his hair as if it were their new home. The length was perfect to grip onto.

He pushed himself up as he cupped your tits together and kept his eyes on your flesh and nipples with mouth dropped open, “Goddamn, sweetheart…” He dipped down again, wetting the skin all around your breasts with his lips and tongue until you bucked upward and your wet pussy kissed his belly button.

Popping off from your nipple he looked down at you underneath his large frame and smoothed his hands down your sides and over your tummy then to your hips. He thumbed at your clit and looked up at you, not an ounce of humor on his face, “I can eat your pussy all night. Want my mouth again?” He licked his lips.

“Want to feel it, Harry…” you breathed out.

“Want to feel my mouth again?”

You moaned and slid your palm down his chest and felt the bit of hair on his pecs tickle your skin, “Your cock.”

“Is that right? Sweetheart wants her handyman to stuff her full tonight?” Now you could see the small smirk on his face as he looked at your tits and then back up to your eyes.

“I want you to stuff me full, Harry. I want to feel it.”

Harry wet his lips again as he moaned at your words and tore his boxer briefs down his thighs and to the floor.

He sat back onto his haunches, eyes on yours as he held himself at his base. His thick ruddy tip smooth and ready to pierce into your cunt had you groaning, “Please.”

“You wanna be my girl, Y/n? Be mine? Cause I don’t fuck unless I know I can keep coming back. I don’t do casual, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, “I don’t either. I’ll be yours. Your girl.”

“You sure? You want to date a small-town handyman, make me dinner every night, and get fucked into this soft bed until you’re passed out?”

“Oh my god, Harry,” you moaned and nodded, “Yes. Please…”

Harry scooted in toward you, and his massive cock was just throbbing before your eyes. That thing was going to do some damage to you but you would happily receive it. Take it every night like he said, looked forward to feeling how much he’d fill you up and how deep he’d get, how much it’d ache when he pounded into you.

His hand slid behind your neck, fingers wrapping around the back side as he hovered over you, “Pussy’s so little, sweetheart. Might need to hold on at first okay?”

The dimple popping into his cheek told you he was playing with you. And while, yes, he was quite large, that bulbous tip and thick shaft would definitely be felt entering you, there was no question it’d tuck nicely into your slippery walls.

You gripped his biceps as you kept your eyes focused on his. He glided his fat tip through your pussylips with the slushy wet sound of your arousal coating his cock, drenching his leaking slit until he was sticking the crown at your opening, his lips parted as he pressed into your muscle and penetrated you slowly.

“Mmm… fuck me, sweetheart,” his voice was hiked up a notch in a whine as he clenched his teeth upon entry, “Y’mine now? Yeah?”

You nodded and whimpered, “Harry… oh god I’m yours…”

Harry nodded with you, his eyes focused on your face as he opened you up, and spread you apart inch by inch. When he’d gotten in halfway he reared himself back, that wide tip sliding out of your cunt just before he pressed himself back in, nudging in deeper. The intrusion was all-consuming. Harry’s hard cock was long and thick. But of course, it was. A man like him with a body like that… But it was his demeanor that had tipped you off at the beginning that he had a big dick. That personality that oozed with natural confidence.

“Oh, my fuck!” You wailed as he drove into you again, this time with a bit of force that had his hips grinding into yours.

“Yeah? It’s big in there isn’t it? Need me to be gentle?”

You could just see it in his eyes. He did not want to be gentle. The man above you, fucking into you was holding himself back. He was taking it easy for your sake. But you wanted him to ruin you. Wanted your pussy wrecked by that thick cock, needed to let him have his way with your body so he could get off.

“No… fuck me like you want. Harry…” you whimpered his name as you cupped his jaw, stubble scraping your palm as he slowly thrust into you, “Make me yours. Show me how you do it.” You wanted to feel his strength. Wanted to know what it felt like to have him completely destroy your pussy.

Harry let out a deep groan then hissed as he ground into your cunt, his cock grazing that achy spot deep inside that you knew was gonna be bruised once he was done with you, “Don’t want to hurt your cute little pussy, Y/n. Can already feel I’m in as deep as I can go.”

“Harry, make me yours. Please.”

“Fuck…” he gritted out as he adjusted his knee placement, lifting himself with his thighs and readying his position to rail into you like you wanted. He pulled your hands up and placed your palms onto his lats as he leaned over you, “Hold on here. Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

You gripped your fingers into the muscle of his back and felt him flexing as he drew his long cock back and bucked in with one harsh thrust. The wind nearly knocked from your lungs as he did it again. He was still taking it easy. Long heavy strokes into your guts, hips slapping into yours in thuds until he got into a rhythm and your high-pitched moans told him you were loving it.

Soon your bed was loudly creaking, the mattress springs bouncing heavy and his balls were whacking into your bum. Wet patting of skin colliding and heavy pants filled the room.

“Like this?” He gritted as his pelvis repeatedly smashed into your clit filling your veins with damp mushy heat as your pussy clamped over him.

“Fffffuuu…” you cried out. Not a word but an answer. You did like it. Every time he filled you to the brim with his fat cock and your pussy parted for him, spreading apart to accommodate his hefty girth it brought you closer and closer to the precipice.

Harry choked out a moan when he felt his own orgasm edge toward the brink slowly. The way you gripped around him, the perfect warm and wet hole attached to the sweetest thing he’d ever met made his heart thrash in his chest harshly.

He couldn’t believe that he was getting to fuck you. That you promised to be his. That things had worked out the way they had. Because he’d started falling for you since day one. He had been impressed that you wanted to salvage the old house and to him, that meant you were already special. A city girl with a heart of gold who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. And when you told him you ripped out some of the rotted boards from the porch on your own his cock twitched in his pants. The image in his mind of you doing that was hot.

And as the days and weeks went on he learned more about you and he became obsessed with making everything in the house just perfect for you. He often daydreamed of living in it with you. Getting to see you every day after work with a kid or two running around. While it was too early to think about all that, he couldn’t help it. Harry was a sincere and deeply emotional man who prized deep connections and love over everything. He’d never been able to do casual.

He was brought back to the moment when your face began to screw up in pleasure and your punched breaths began to grow into loud moans with every snap of his hips.

You, on the other hand, were thinking of nothing but that big cock sliding through your insides and ramming into your depths, your tummy aching at the stretch and the way he filled you so completely. Your brain was empty as he sliced through you, fucking you down into your soft blankets as his chest and arms and shoulders tensed.

“Ooohh, sweetheart… like that yeah? That what you need? Right there?”

Your arousal had dripped from your hole and drenched your ass and the blanket under you, your gushy wetness slopped out with every push of his cock into your pussy.

Harry could feel your thighs quivering and shaking as you started to arch into him, loud bursts of moans belted from your lungs on each plunge.

Harry was losing his mind at the noises you were making and how good you felt squeezing around him, “Gonna have to move myself in here so I can have you like this every day… look at you taking me so well… fucking creaming all over me…” his string of consciousness continued as he railed into you deeply and you felt your insides snap suddenly, your orgasm erasing all working thoughts from your brain.

“Yes! Fuuuuck! Yes! I need you!”

“Need you too, Y/n. I fucking need you baby… come all over me, show me how good that is… fuck… fuck…” Harry clenched his jaw as you squelched around him, your slippery hole clenching so hard you nearly pushed him out but he was stronger as he continued to pound into you, bringing you through your ecstasy until he couldn’t go another moment without coming.

He began unloading into you, heavy, thick pumps of come filled your insides as he coughed out a groan and stilled his hips with your pussy milking him, pussy fluttering and squeezing every drop from his long shaft. You’d both lost your good senses in that moment. No thought about what was responsible or reasonable, it was only about how good it felt to be connected, new lovers enjoying one another and not giving a damn about the consequences.

Harry’s mouth pressed into yours and he moaned sloppily against your wet lips, bodies throbbing and shaking and lungs gasping for air as you wrapped your legs around his waist and hummed in bliss.

Harry’s heart was going wild as he dropped his chest to yours and licked into your mouth, one final push of his cock into your cervix for good measure, pressing his come deeper yet.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out in a mumble as his lips still smeared against yours.

“I know…” he responded with his eyes closed as he continued kissing you.

Your fingers wound into his hair and he rolled you both to your sides, still connecting and simmering and reeling.

“I think now you have to stay,” you parted from the kiss and looked at him with a small smile. Hoping he’d agree to it. You weren’t ready to let him go home yet.

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere. You’ll have to forcibly remove me from you now.”

You giggled and cupped his cheeks, “Good. Means you aren’t gonna be leaving then.”

Harry’s soft smile and his big hands on you felt like home. More than anything had before. The old house was your home, yes, but ever since Harry walked into your life you were a changed woman.

“So you’re mine now? Can I call you my girlfriend?”

You puffed out a laugh through your nose, “Of course. Long as I can call you my boyfriend.”

“Of course. Been dreaming about it since I first met you.”

You licked your lips, “Yeah? Guess we both wasted a lot of time beating around the bush didn’t we?”

Harry shook his head, “Nahh… we didn’t waste time. Every moment spent with you was exactly what was supposed to happen. Got to know you real well. Got to learn all kinds of things about you. I feel like the way it happened wasn’t supposed to happen any other way.”

You nodded and bit your lip. He was probably right. The time you two spent chatting and flirting and getting to know one another slowly made you both open up and feel more comfortable in each other’s presence. And it all led to that very moment right there in your bed.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen any other way.”

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randomtasteinfandoms · 1 year

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they weren’t the first| finnick odair

anyone else random get thrown onto hunger games tik tok?

summary| after the jabberjays it’s revealed that peeta and katniss weren’t the first pair to make it out of an arena alive part 2

“whose y/n?”

Johanna couldn’t help but chuckle at Katniss’s question. When the jabberjays attacked Katniss ran after what she thought was Prim, meanwhile Finnick ran after an unknown voice that he called Y/N.

Everyone's attention gets turned to Johanna in that moment, as she stared out at Finnick sat in the sand where the waves reached him. Beetee looked at her as if he already knew the story of the mysterious Y/N, while Katniss and Peeta sat waiting to be told the lore.

“She was the female tribute in the 65th hunger games.” “Finnick tried protecting her in the games, she was only 13 at the time.” Beetee continued to clarify once Johanna stopped talking. Katniss and Peeta looks at each other in confusion. “You didn’t think you two were the first did you?” Johanna’s question confused the pair even more.

“Both Finnick and Y/N survived? I feel like we’d know of her then.” Peeta questioned. “No no Peeta, she means the first to fall in love in the games.” Katniss gasped, sudden sadness washed over her. Finnick didn’t deserve to lose someone he loved. At the silence that took hold, Beetee spoke up feeling the need to explain Y/N to the unknowing.

“I was Y/N mentor, as I said she was only 13 when she was reaped... the youngest in the arena. She didn’t have any hopes of winning those games, but she wasn’t going to give up easily. She ran and hid for the beginning of the games, in a tree much like you Katniss. Finnick was killing tributes so fast I knew it was only a matter of time until he found her, but when he did he didn’t kill her-”

“How was I supposed to do that?”

Finnick’s voice startled everyone, looking up he stood and joined the group in retelling the story of Y/N.

“Y/N was too young, she had no chance of survival with the tributes that we had. She never trained, she knew the method of hiding she was going to use and she did it.”

“How- How did she die?” Peeta almost didn’t ask, but it was something he wanted to know, needed to know.

Finnick sighed, his head dropping at the memory of it, “Once she knew we were the only 2 left, she- she ran off and jumped off this-this waterfall, she couldn’t swim. She drowned. I tried to save her, but.”

Finnick stopped, he couldn’t bring himself to continue the story, “she made me promise her that when she had to die to make it painless but I couldn’t do it, she killed herself in one of the most painful ways.” “Drowning.”

“You went after her Finnick, you tried to save her.” Beetee tries to comfort the boy, but Johanna wasn’t having it, “And what Beetee, he revived her and then what? He’d just have to kill her anyways or kill himself. Who's to say she wouldn’t have killed him?-”

“Y/N wouldn’t have kill me, Johanna you know that!” Finnick snapped before retreating into himself. “I could’ve sworn- I felt her move.” He started as if he was questioning his memory but the sentence ended as a certain statement. They all looked at each other with sadness in their eyes. They and Finnick all know that if he was right, and Y/N was alive when they were taken from the arena, she was long gone by now. The Capital wouldn’t let 2 victors leave the arena.

“I felt her move. When we got taken from the arena. She moved.”

#finnick x y/n #finnick imagine #finnick odair #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #hungergames #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger game x reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

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@ramlightly graciously let me write a fic based on this comic. Check it out, it's so cool!

"Dominate Person" is a nasty spell that can fully submit a humanoid to your power. It's unclear if the victim has self-consciousness in the moment but since it's possible to throw Wisdom saving rolls I think you can feel that you are controlled.

Thanks @bhaalbaaby for beta-reading!

Puppet Master

Synopsis: Astarion is enchanted by the "Dominate Person" spell and almost kills Tav.

Tags: angst, comfort

TW: A description of physical violence

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion wants to move. To hide in the shadows and shoot the necromancer from there.

You are surrounded, but you keep doing your work.

But he can't.

His body is paralyzed, and he feels a wave of panic.

No, not this. Not "Hold Person"!

He can't do this. He can't make it.

Paralysis is like being sealed in a tomb with too little space to move. Helpless, voiceless.

What if something happens to you when he is like this?

"Astarion, use your daggers!"

Is it you? Or one of the adventurers you've teamed up this morning to kick necromancers out of the town?

Astarion just has to wait. The spell wears off when the spellcaster is down. Or a healer manages to find a way to get rid of the invisible chains.

Or...

USE THE DAGGER

The voice is intimidating, too loud, and too powerful.

It's like the Cazador's voice in his head again. Suppressing. Ordering. Torturing.

No, no...

Astarion feels his hand move toward the dagger. The strings make him move.

It's not "Hold Person".

It's "Dominate Person".

Full control of the victim. The voice your body cannot resist. You become one of them, fighting for them.

Murdering your loved ones.

KILL

Astarion rushes forward to you. To the only person he loves and cares about. The only person in the entire world who has never hurt him.

"Astarion! Help me! Astarion, what's wrong?"

Astarion pushes you into the ground with all his newfound vampiric strength.

No, no, please, stop it!

MURDER THEM

The dagger stabs through your stomach, causing an internal rupture. The second dagger wounds your chest.

You stare at him in pain, in silent prayer. You watch your lover killing you.

Blood. So much blood. Your blood.

A strong hand pulls Astarion from you, but it's not enough.

Astarion has an order from his new master.

To kill you. To make sure you are dead.

It is the worst type of dissociation. He is just an observer.

His hands rip you apart as if you are a prey he's found in the woods. Your eyes are full of terror and pain.

VAMPIRE, DRINK THE BLOOD.

No, no, I won't do it. I don't take the blood without consent... NO!

His fangs pierce into your neck, taking the blood non-stop. To satiate him, to let him feel alive.

And to drain you.

He is less than a slave. A puppet. With his locked mind in agony.

CRUSH THE SKULL

Astarion grabs a handful of your hair to smash you against a stone. Your body is motionless. Broken. Almost dead.

And then...

The agony of death pierces the mind. It's an acid flare of horror - too familiar for the undead.

It happened to him once, many years ago. When he was killed by Cazador and revived as a vampire spawn.

That's how death feels.

But he isn't dying. More than this, his body is his again.

Astarion stands up, feeling the nightmare wearing off.

Your body lies on the ground in blood and gore.

Astarion falls to his knees, his hands shaking.

And yells.

You wake up, your body sore and in terrible pain.

Astarion.

Your mind reacts with a panic attack - a near-death experience causing mental anguish. Your body remembers how Astarion jumped on you with his daggers.

How he ripped your throat.

How he almost crushed your skull.

You try to collect yourself. "Dominate Person". One of the nastiest spells necromancers know. Create a humanoid puppet and make them kill their friends and loved ones. While they silently scream, locked in their minds.

Some people never recover from that. Offing themselves, not being capable of dealing with what they did.

Damn, and what did it do to Astarion? It's what happened to him during his enslavement. Orders impossible to resist.

You want to call for him, but your body refuses to act. It remembers.

His hands, his fangs.

And his eyes in such desperation you've never seen.

Before you manage to collect yourself again, you fall into oblivion.

Astarion is silent.

His nails pierce his scalp. His teeth are clenched. His eyes open wide as he stares at the wall.

The companions who murdered the necromancers ignore him, but he doesn't feel any hostility.

Just a spell. It happens.

"Astarion... Is this your name, right?" a young fighter approaches him. "You need to take a bath."

Astarion looks at himself. His clothes are covered in blood. Your blood.

"Tav will be fine. We have good healers here. Don't blame yourself."

As if enchanted again, Astarion walks away. In silence, he locks himself in the bathroom - a small wooden room with a tub full of hot water. But instead of putting off the dirty clothes, he submerges himself fully clothed.

The fabric clings to the body, and Astarion hugs his knees. The blood mixes with water.

His back hurts as if his scars are bleeding.

He doesn't know how long he spends there. An hour? A day? A week? The water is cold. but he can't care less still hearing your cries.

The door creaks, and he notices familiar soft steps.

"Astarion? Are you alright?"

He can't look at you. Can't make himself. Can't witness the damage he caused.

"I almost killed you, and you ask how I am doing?" his voice breaks.

"The necromancer almost killed me," you say firmly. "Not you. Hey, look at me!"

Your head is heavily bandaged. There are bruises all over your face, and he knows there is much more evidence of his violence below your shirt and trousers.

"It wasn’t you. It was them. You would never do this to me."

"I did."

"You didn't. Come on, take off your clothes. They’re all wet."

He wants to make you go, make you leave. He will be happy knowing you are somewhere safe and far from him.

You touch his neck, and he can't resist. Astarion allows you to pull off his shirt and then manages to take off the trousers as well.

"I am sorry," he whispers.

"Don't." You start rubbing his back, and he flinches when your gentle fingers touch the edges of the scars.

"Tav... You need to rest..."

"Don't be selfish. I need this, too."

"What? Why?"

You take his chin and make him look up at you. "Because my body remembers you killing me. Because my subconscious tells me to run away. Because I remember these gentle hands of yours driving blades into my chest. I need to forget it before it's engraved forever. So please, don’t push me away. Not now..."

You keep rubbing his back, hands, and chest. You plant kisses on the clean skin. You wash his hair, stained blood, and gore, and make sure your touches are light and tender.

"If you want to talk about it, I am here. I know what exactly it reminded you of," you whisper in his ear.

And at that moment it's too much.

His body shudders as he starts crying, hiding his face from you in his palms. You drop the rags and wrap your hands around his neck.

You sit like that for an eternity, lulling each other until the healer starts banging into the door, demanding you to return to bed. You reluctantly let Astarion go.

You kiss him goodbye and leave, hoping the darkness won't hold his mind again, and he won't run away from you and his guilt.

The bed is comfortable as you lie motionless on a blanket. The healer did a great job patching you together. But you will need to fully recover. And gallons of healing potion.

Astarion enters the room. He wears fresh clothes, and if it wasn't for his facial expression, you could think nothing bad has happened.

"Come," you ask him. "I am sorry, but the night of passion isn't an offer today."

"Don't be ridiculous. How are you feeling?"

"Beaten. Wounded. Tired. And you?"

"Violated"

You both are silent. Finally, Astarion lies beside you and wraps his hands around you.

Your body stiffens against your will. Astarion feels it and tries to let you go.

"No. Hold me like that!"

He obliges and gently places your head on his chest. His cool skin feels nice.

Astarion loves me. He won't hurt me.

You repeat it like a prayer before finally being able to fully relax.

"I love you," he mutters. "I won't hurt you. You hear me?"

You nod.

"I love you, too," You smile, and your heart rejoices when he smiles back.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx@astarion-beloved@tallymonster@caitlincat-95@tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars

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wilwheaton · 1 year

Note

favorite goncharov character

Goncharov! Holy shit I haven't thought about Goncharov in YEARS!

I remember seeing it at the Vista theatre downtown in ... I want to say 1983? It was either 82 and I was 10, or 83 and I was 11. Now that I think about it, it must have been Spring of 83. I remember that Kimmy Mendini was my babysitter, and she drove my friend Ahmed and me all the way downtown to see Goncharov. She would have been at least 16, but I feel like she was a little older. I remember that she LOVED movies and just never stopped talking about European cinema.

Ha! I can still her her sort of roll "Cinema" out of her mouth. Movies were for the masses to watch, while sophisticated adults experienced Cinema. I'm just realizing now that she absolutely pronounced it with a capital C. She was like "you are so lucky to see a clean print of Goncharov!"

I had no idea what a clean print was, but I understood it was important and impressive.

She had read about this screening in the LA Weekly, which I didn't know at the time was TREMENDOUSLY subversive in our suburban part of Los Angeles County, and we were going to an old theatre in maybe not the greatest part of town, but Kimmy had been watching me since I was in second grade and was like my big sister. I knew we'd be safe with her.

That old theatre (which is now a fucking swap meet) was just so beautiful inside. 100 foot ceilings, box seats, gold paint and murals. It felt like a place you went to experience Cinema, but, like ... it had absolutely seen better days. I remember that I felt kind of bad for the place, a little embarrassed, like when I got a good grade and accidentally made eye contact with a friend who got a D.

Okay. This clearly hit a memory artery, and I appreciate you staying with me this far, when we finally get to the fireworks factory. We're walking up to the box office, and she tells Ahmed and me that we have to wait on the sidewalk, because *technically* it's rated R, and she's not our legal guardian, but what does this guy making two bucks an hour know about art anyway?

So we wait. She buys the tickets, and then we all walk in as casually as we can.

I remember how scared I was that we were going to get caught and they'd call the cops (that's how it worked in my anxiety-ridden brain), but literally nobody cared. The theatre wasn't even half full, and everyone there was a dude at least as old as my parents.

You know the story, so I don't have to recount all of it, but I can at this very moment remember how shocked I was when Bruno was shot. This was the first time, ever, I had felt an emotional connection to a character. I didn't cry when Bambi's mother was shot, I didn't cry when ET died, I didn't cry E V E R.

But when Bruno died? I didn't make a sound. I just silently wept. Tears just poured down my face and I wanted to roll back time, rewrite the movie, and get him out of that room.

I obviously understand now, all these years later why I connected to him and why his story meant and means so much to me, but at the time I had no idea. I just thought the actors were that good.

I can't believe that guy who played him died so young. I think he was like 40? I remember thinking that was old. Now I know different.

When the movie was over, Kimmy asked us how we liked it. Ahmed was obsessed with the photography (he grew up to be an illustrator), and I obviously had my Bruno Moment.

We got Thrifty ice cream on the way home and listened to Donna Summer in her Datsun.

I haven't thought about Goncharov or Cinema or Kimmy in FOREVER. Leave it to Tumblr to boost my nostalgia check to a natural 20.

tl;dr: Bruno. I know he's supposed to be that character we all hate, and there are so many valid reasons for that. But when I was 12 ... well, I was a different person.

Oh! And now that I know what a "clean print" is, having seen so many "dirty prints" in revival houses before they all turned into swap meets or churches (hey, two places where people sell you stuff and take your money!), I retroactively appreciate it in a way that would make Kimmy happy.

Thanks for the trip into the crumbling mall that is my childhood memories. I haven't been here in awhile and it was nice to visit.

#Goncharov (1973)#goncharov #bruno #yes bruno #unreality

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bamsara · 4 months

Note

Howdy! I just want to take a moment (or two…or three..yeah this is longer than I thought it would be) to talk about your characterization of Narinder in your TRoD fanfic, specifically his grievance over what he perceived the lamb to be and betrayel.

I like to think Narinder repeatedly calling Lambert a traitor (I think at least once a chapter actually lmaoo) over and over, is trying not so subtly to avoid thinking about the why behind the betrayel and the pain that comes with it. Especially since he'd already spent an eternity wondering about the previous betrayal of his siblings. How emotionally torturous it must feel to be in this cycle of rejection, from the people he depended on, even now from his own followers who don't recognize him. And then, when he and Lambert finally appear to be on the same page about something, Lambert goes and spares Leshy, reminding Narinder once again that his divine commands hold as much weight on the Lamb as they will decide to hold.

It isn't up to Narinder to decide how the lamb will act, as much as he wants to. It's one thing for Narinder to have people listening to him, but it's another to actually be heard, and after an eternity of silence during his imprisonment he's absolutely desperate for some form of control and impact. For someone to truly hear him. Which is a shame, because Lambert does, but Narinder cannot recognize it since they don't always give Narinder what he wants (since being a God is all about what you want), and instead are more interested in giving him what he needs.

I assume at this point, after being revived into a mortal form, he's actively given up on trying to understand why everyone just keeps "betraying/rejecting him" and would rather use his own inferences of their behavior as explanation, once again, for that feeling of control, since he's utterly mortified of hearing those words come from their mouths instead of his own (doesn't help that he can actually read minds either). He'd rather kill his siblings than hear the why (not saying the siblings were justified ofc, but understanding one's motivations is, y'know, important to effectively communicating with them in a way that's healthy) Despite needing to be heard, he's internalized that many won't bother listening unless he has control over them in some way, like he did before when he was powerful. When he mutilated his siblings, had Lambert create a cult in his name, being heard isn't just an emotional or mental aspect to his wellbeing, but is literally part of his power as well.

He was/is a God, he's used to followers prostrating themselves just to hear the time of day, giving their all to listen, hear, and follow him. It's why he struggles to separate the aspects that are ingrained in a follower, from those who are a friend. Unless they're also God he can't comprehend much of a difference, and expects them to be of the same or similar standing. He was friends with Lambert when he was Godly, yes, but he still saw himself as above Lambert, and expected them to lay down their life to him like a follower would. Yes, Narinder didn't want to cut them out of his own life in their death, but still expected them to just..die for him. He didn't ***just*** see Lambert as a friend, he saw them as a friend that was also his follower. An exceptional follower he loved, but not an exception. There was a power imbalance that Lambert now sees.

It's why Narinder's utterly baffled and offended, fearful even, at Lambert, someone he deemed as "traitorous", investing their time into still trying to talk to him..listen to him.. for virtually no gain…at his lowest point...when he himself is now "lesser".

Narinder tries so hard to not become invested in those he deems as "lesser" or "traitors" but its near fucking impossible, because like it or not, his desires and needs are so inherently mortal and genuine (desire for power, companionship, love, understanding, control, etc) that if he doesn't close himself off, he may have to face falling into the same pit of disappointment and failed expectations he fell in with Lambert/his siblings once again. So he doesn't, and hides away in his shack until Lambert comes knocking.

And now, as the cherry on top of this emotionally constipated bundle of angsty cat woes, he has to live and breathe as the very thing he deemed as "lesser". Being forced to invest in these mortal needs, now that they're a necessary component to his survival. This is also why I believe he goes on these little crusades with Lambert in the first place as well. Not only because they return to him a sense of routine and normalcy (also pining, coughocoughghhrbogh who said that?), but also because it allows Narinder to forget about investing in his own wellbeing for a while.

He was a God, he didn't have to go through the work it took to just do your laundry, eat, brush your teeth, or take care of yourself since he never had to. The thrill of adventure and battle, the adrenaline rush of near-death experiences, can't hold a candle to the mundanity of work. So when he's not crusading, he just..sleeps..wanders around..the fact he's not socially accepted by his own followers doesn't encourage him either. I mean fuck, he such a complete wreck after Lambert spared Leshy, he crusaded and neglected his health for so long he passed out.

His life is all work now, investing in himself, in others, being forced to have his ego get knocked down a few pegs, and care again despite how much it hurts. None of these things are "given", Lambert's love is not just given (as in, blindly follow) and that's what I believe will be an eventual "eureka" moment for him.

Living is work, but it's worth working for

He ain't hot shit anymore, but that's ok.

Anyway, sorry for the long-winded ramble this was all actually just a very roundabout and ineffective ploy for me to talk about how I relate the song "Don't Speak" by No Doubt, to your Narinder's character. Happy belated New Year, hope you're doing well. :]

LKSDHGKLSDHGD HELLO. This is such a well articulated analyzation of Narinder holy moly, I hope you don't mind me answering this with not much to add on because WOW I'm really vibing with your takes on him and I wanted the world to read this too slkdghlksdhgs. I have a lot of my own takes on Narinder and how he'll progress to be as the story comes along, and eventaully some of this will be talked about in TROD either with the lamb and/or with other characters, particularly Ratau, as he comes to an understanding that others are understanding.

I have not had coffee yet this morning but I could go on for a day and a half about Narinder being used to getting what he wants as a god and the entire process of how actaully lonley and isolating it can be to be continously pedastaled and worshipped verses being on equal, human level with other beings and how long it takes for him to realize that.

HAPPY BELATED NEW YEAR

#xhlhglsdkhgds im sorry if my answer is lack luster but im consuming your texts with my entire smooth brain

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d0youc0py · 4 months

Note

Hi! Really love all your works! You write boys so good!

I saw, that your requests are open, so I want to make request for the first time) (Feel free to ignore it, if you don't like the idea or find it triggering. TW: panic attack, abuse)

Can you write a one short for the 141 boys plus Konig, where during fight with their s/o (reader), they accidentally send reader into a panic attack? Maybe the cause of this reaction is a story of abuse in the reader's past or something like that. How would boys react? What would they do?

Thank you in advance!

P.S. Sorry for grammar or semantic errors, english isn't my mother tongue.

He was on you in an instant. It always seemed like nothing got past him- and your instant change in demeanor was no exception.

Your hands pressed against his stomach, trying to create some form of distance between the two of you. With gritted teeth- he obliged.

“I shouldn’t have been so firm with you, Honey. I’m sorry.” His voice was soft, like the John you knew. It didn’t comfort you like it usually did.

“It’s alright.” You gasped, your body feeling like it was being weighted down by chains.

“Don’t pacify me. It’s not alright.” John pressed. His hand raised but quickly went back to his side when he saw your hesitation to be touched. Your eyes fled up to his, waiting for him to get angry again at your rejection, yet all you saw were his heavy blue eyes. Heavy with hurt and anger, yet you instinctually knew none of it was at you. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Let me help you, please. Let me fix this sweetheart.”

You didn’t have the energy or wits to refuse.

You couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not. His breaths were always light and careful even if he was fast asleep. You however were a mess. Shaky, cold yet sweaty, your heart pounding a mile a minute. You pulled the covers back and slowly slipped out of bed. You glanced behind you, half praying he was awake and would usher you back to bed. You could almost hear the displeased rumble coming from his chest as he patted you back to sleep. But not so much as a stir came from him. You crept into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid, holding a towel over your mouth to muffle your sobs. A familiar wave of weakness wash over you. Your mind instantly fled to flight mode.

The events of tonight made you wonder if there was anyway to revive your relationship. He completely shut down- only opening his mouth to give a few verbal jabs here and there. This wasn’t the first time you had sobbed to yourself in the bathroom, but you had never felt heartbreak quite like this before.

“You alright in there?” You jumped at the gruff voice on the other side of the door.

You took a quick breath offering a pitiful “yeah”. Suddenly the door opened and you quickly leapt up, your first instinct to shut the door. His heart sank when he caught sight of you.

“Sweetheart.” Simon said quickly. He used his body to keep you from shutting the door. You used the towel to wipe your face- a little too harshly for his liking. His hand came up, pulling your hands away from your face. “Fucking hell.” He grumbled, mostly to himself.

“I’m sorry.” You started. He quickly hushed you, a displeased rumble leaving his chest just like you had imagined.

“Not your fault.” He shushed. “I was an ass, Lovie. I knew how you would react I still chose to go about things the way I did. I’m sorry.” He tilted your chin up, running his thumb across it.

Your breathing was shallow- not that he could tell over his shouting. He was a hothead and it was reminding you all too much of your past. Your hands pulled at the collar of your shirt hoping it would ease the feeling of your world falling in on you. The living room was suddenly too small. The TV suddenly too loud. The lights suddenly too bright. Your head felt too light. Your skin too itchy and your body too twitchy. Johnny’s burning blue eyes flickered from place to place making you wonder if you even still needed to be there. He seemed fine carrying on this argument with himself. Yet you were frozen. His growling voice suddenly stopped.

Your eyes left the floor to glance at him. He watched you with careful blue eyes, that softened by the minute. He was assessing you and he quickly realized it wasn’t good.

“Bon?” His voice was warm- familiar.

“Please stop yelling Mac.” You whispered. He nodded his head in agreement clearing the distance between the two of you.

“Is it too soon for me to say I’m sorry.” He questioned. He leaned against the wall, slowly guiding your shaky form towards him. “Christ.” He murmured, holding his lips firm against your head. “I know better and I should’ve done better, Bon.”

He was a fairly patient man- especially when it came to you, but he was losing his mind. His trained ears only being able to focus on your sniffles and you trying to get your breathing back to normal. His molten eyes stared straight ahead, his body twitching to go to you. He had lost his temper- not so much at you but at a situation. By the time he realized just how badly he had upset you- it was too late. You practically begged him to give you space and he obliged- kind of.

The couch creaked as he stood, quietly making his way towards the bedroom. He knocked softly against the doorframe, like one move would startle you like a scared deer. He was right, you jumped.

“Ky, I’m alright. I promise.” You assured, your face half buried in a pillow. He wanted you to seek comfort from him. He sat down and slowly moved the tear stained pillow away from your face.

“Let me take care of this, please.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss below your ear.

He was furious that he had let himself go like that. Part of his job was keeping his emotions in check and he couldn’t do that for the one person it really mattered. He was so upset he hadn’t even noticed how distraught you were until nearly ran out of the room. He had talked you down, apologies flowing from his lips till he saw some sign that you were believing him.

He had coaxed you into his arms- the place you would stay for as long as you’d wished to. At least that’s what he told himself. But the way his arms wrapped so tightly around you it appeared to be much more of his decision than yours.

“I hope you can forgive me, Schatz.” He said it aloud but it felt like he was talking more to himself.

“You didn’t know Konig.” You muttered. He winced at the formality of his name. No “Konnie” or “Kon” or some random German word you had decided to be his nickname for the day.

“Don’t make excuses for me.” He ran a hand up and down your back. “No one deserves that treatment less than you. I’m sorry I scared you, it won’t happen again.”

Thank you for your kind words! Hope you liked it! Writing this made me realize how little I write Konig. 🩷

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sully-s · 24 days

Text

Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

#Shit I'm never going to write #Fic Idea rambling #Silly Ideas #Superbat #The Flash #Batman #Superman #Burcie Wayne #bruce wayne #Messing Around #DCAU #Stupidly long #I'm great at parties ;)

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ghosts-cyphera · 6 months

Note

okay so porn star ghost is like my new obsession?? he can’t help but read all the tweets and comments and loves the ones where people suggest scenarios for the next videos for the two of you and he just keeps getting kinkier and kinkier in the videos 😍

ooooh my god yes !! one of ps!ghost's favorite things to do before you shoot together is to hang out with you while you get your hair and makeup done, and read the comments out loud to you. not in a mocking way or to tease you. well, to tease you just a little bit—we all know he enjoys turning your cheeks warm—but it's mainly to remind you of all the love coming your way.

"okay that's enough," you laugh as you glance at ghost through the mirror of the vanity. "I want to hear comments about you." "reading the best ones, love," ghost shushed you with a grin. resting on his back on the couch with his arm placed behind his head, he looked casual. relaxed. clearing his throat, he then read: "first I thought I wanted him to rail me braindead. then I thought I wanted her to sit on my face until I pass out. turns out I just want them both to step on me, spit on me, have me as their—," ghost squinted his eyes, "personal—oh! fuckin' right—their personal chew toy," he raised his brows with his grin, "and then revive me so we can do it all over again." "huh." "huh," he echoed your word with his grin. "no one else I'd rather be doin' all that with is all I'll fuckin' say." the quirk of your brow was an unneeded confirmation of "that makes two of us."

ghost also screenshots all the ones where they ship the two of you!! all the comments that say how obvious it is how much you like him, and especially the ones that say that you were meant to be.

he doesn't do it in a creepy way. the comments are simply something he likes to go back to when he's doubting himself or unsure if he's just imagining the twinkle in your eyes as you look at him: the genuine nature of your smile as you kiss him.

he respects that—while you do make him feel special—for you he might be nothing more than just work, but when he feels that sense of longing for you late at night... reading the comments under your videos while grinning in his bed does help.

while ghost is also stable enough to know that feeling jealous over your work with other men is pointless, nobody can convince me that his guilty pleasure isn't to browse through the comments under your videos with graves, lol. because scattered between the comments from white cishet redneck men cheering him on and name calling you (deep breaths, simon), are always comments from your fans.

"ghost would never." "he doesnt know how to touch u like ghost touches u" "he's so focused on his own pleasure that he's forgetting all about her. did he even try to make her come?"

never fails to cheer him up, lol.

oh and bonus from a reply that's still sitting in my drafts, eek:

ghost would also love to reply to the comments, hyping you up with the fans and responding with the most random and cryptic emojis whenever someone even hints towards wanting to see him put a ring on it because of how obvious the sparks between the two of you are.

a fan: ghost, just marry her already. we need to see you living in that little house, hosting dinner parties for real. ghost: 🥸😵‍💫😏

#lo answers #ps!ghost #pornstar!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #writing this with three hours of sleep under my belt eeek lmao #a:ps!ghost

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tojisbbg · 11 months

Text

𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆!

❝but, you’re my baby, and i love you so much!❞

♡ rin itoshi ♡

a/n: i kept getting tiktoks on my fyp of this trend and i couldn’t help but think of him.

content: rin itoshi x reader, established relationship, gentlelover!rin, reader is a little mean, very fluffy, kinda short, not grammatically checked.

---

it was almost nine and you were stressed.

every little thing in this entire world was pissing you off because you couldn’t finish this stupid fucking project your professor decided to assign you this morning. to make things even better, it’s due before the beginning of class the next morning and it’s group work.

surprise, surprise! your group mates are shit and the responsibility of the entire project was now shoved up your ass.

how beautiful.

you were barely finished with the other assignments that you received from your other classes, which meant that you’d have to pull another all-nighter.

who the absolute fuck told you that it got better in college? ‘cause right now you want to kill yourself.

you were trying to reach over to grab your binder when suddenly your hand knocked over the cup of coffee you had on your side. you gasped as your eyes widened.

it spilled all over your laptop.

“no, no, no!! fuck.” you panicked, quickly ripping a bunch of tissue to wipe the liquid away without getting it further into your device. and just because god loves you so much, your phone began to buzz.

you groaned in annoyance, leaning over to swipe the decline button. you upsettingly sighed, seeing that your laptop was already starting to malfunction, which meant that you were screwed.

“ugh, what the fuck, man. i’m gonna end my life, i swear.” you grumbled to yourself. your phone began to ring again and your face had a scowl painted on it as you roughly grabbed the small device, swiping green.

“y/n?” the familiar voice on the other end called out as you received the call.

“yes, yes, what is it rin? i’m really busy right now and your constant calling is wasting my time. couldn’t you have just texted me instead?” you snapped at him, making him become silent for a few seconds and he was trying to process what the hell was going on.

“are you okay? you seem upset.” rin responded in a worry tone, making you roll your eyes.

“no, rin. i’m actually so happy right now that i can die. whatever, why did you call?” you decided to cut to the chase, figuring that it was no use of getting too distracted right now.

“it’s fine, i’ll see you at home.” he shortly said before hanging up, leaving you with your mouth open.

“then what the fuck was the reason for calling me?!” you yelled at your screen, which was pointless because your lover wasn’t on the other line. you angrily slammed your phone on the table before going back to your mission of trying to revive your laptop.

about thirty minutes has passed and you gave up on your laptop, deciding to finish your paper assignments first and then try again later. you furiously scribbled writing on your assignments, your handwriting progressively getting sloppier and uglier as you bullshitted them.

you no longer cared if your work was absolute doodoo, you just wanted to get it done and over with. so invested in your work, you didn’t even notice when rin slipped inside your shared apartment.

he usually had soccer practice which ended later on the day during the weekdays. the 6′1 striker entered the kitchen, rummaging through some things before his footsteps came towards where you sat.

“this shitty ass laptop still won’t work!” you whined, banging your fists on the keyboard in frustration as you felt like ripping your hair out.

rin pulled the chair next to you out so that he could sit down and watch his very stressed and mad girlfriend work.

“wanna talk about it, baby?” rin finally got the courage to break the thick silence that was fogging up the entire room.

“no.” you sharply answered back, your tone nearly slicing his heart.

“you sure? taking a small break wouldn’t hurt.” he softly suggested, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. for some odd reason, his persistence was getting on your nerves and you would then do something that you knew you’d instantly regret if not now then later.

you angrily shoved off his hand, making rin look at you with a shocked and confused face at your unusual behavior.

“for fucks sake, leave me alone! can’t you see that i’m trying to finish my work? you don’t have to worry about college like i do because you have your entire future set by kicking a stupid ball. i don’t! so just fucking go, rin!” you yelled at him, watching his face fall as he stood up from his chair. suddenly, the words on your tongue died down, your throat becoming dry.

fuck.

you knew you messed up real bad, but the damage has already been done. rin let out a heavy sigh before looking down at you with sad eyes.

“okay, i’ll stop bugging you. also, your laptop most likely won’t turn back on, so stop wasting your time on bringing something back after destroying it. just use mine, it’s in my duffle bag.” rin dryly spoke before turning his heels, walking towards your shared bedroom before you heard the slam of the door shutting, making you flinch.

“fuck you professor, i hope your wife leaves your for another man.” you swore under your breath, closing the lid of your dead laptop. you walked towards the sofa where rin’s duffle bag was, opening it to pull out his laptop for your use.

you walked back to your spot, turning on his device to begin working. it was almost midnight, so, if god was on your side then you could hopefully finish the project by two in the morning.

as soon as the laptop turned on, the first thing you were met with was his wallpaper which was set as a collage of your photos. you couldn’t help but take in a few minutes to stare at it, and as each minute passed, your heart began to ache even more.

you knew that rin didn’t deserve to hear those words, but you couldn’t stop yourself from saying those awful things to him in the heat of the moment. shaking your head to shoo those distracting thoughts away, you retracted your focus back onto your project.

---

you finished typing the last word on the report and you could almost shed happy tears. you were finally done with this shit, your hands shaking and your eyes begging to close. without hesitation, you submitted the work. who cares about checking for grammar issues when your soft bed was calling out for your ass.

“not bad, it’s only one-thirty. hm, i guess i should eat before going to sleep since i’m kinda hungry.” you talked to yourself, shutting off rin’s laptop as you lazily made your way to the kitchen to fix yourself up some instant ramen.

your eyes fell on the white plastic bag on the kitchen counter, an eyebrow cocking upwards as you curiously opened the bag. you gasped as you realized that it was your favorite takeout.

“oh my god, i’m such a piece of shit.” you whispered, head hanging low as you thanked the heavens for blessing your with such a loving and kind boyfriend whom you didn’t deserve at all

you eagerly reheated up the food in the microwave before speed walking back to the dining table. you settled your food down on the table, allowing it to cool while your pack your bag and put rin’s laptop on charge so that he could use it for his classes tomorrow.

after eating and cleaning up, you decided to skip your usual night routine since you were pretty tired. you quickly brushed your teeth and went straight to the bedroom.

you quietly opened the door, noticing how the lights were off and the only source that was providing some form of light inside your room was the small lamp on the side.

tiptoeing to your side of the bed, you slipped under the covers as you sat up, leaning against the headboard. you could hear rin’s soft snores coming from the side, the cute man sleeping on his back as he faced the ceiling.

your eyes scanned his features, which every nook and cranny of your brain had memorized. he looked so cute while he slept and an overwhelming wave of sadness hit you like a tsunami as you recalled the way you treated him earlier on the night.

tears began to sting your eyes as guilt washed on your face, the warm liquid streaming down your face. without thinking twice, you climbed onto him as you straddled rin’s waist before hugging his sleeping form, burying your teary face in the crook of his neck while you sobbed.

feeling the wet and warm tears stain the flesh of his neck, rin began to squirm in his sleep as he groaned.

“what the hell?” rin groggily said, opening his sleep filled eyes as he saw a lump on top of him shaking and crying. he wrapped an arm around you before carefully sitting up, leaning against the headboard as he rubbed your back.

you decided to face him, even though you knew you looked hideous. you face was probably wet and red like a tomato.

“oh my god, you look even cuter now!” you cried even harder after taking one look at him, leaving rin nothing but confused as fuck. you peppered his face with kisses before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. you squeezed him closer to you until it was humanly not possible.

“i’m so sorry, rinnie! i was such a jerk to you all night because i was so upset about my stupid project. it’s just everything was getting me so mad ‘cause my group mates ditched me and my dumbass spilled coffee on my laptop, a-and the-then i-” you were choking on your tears and words from crying and talking to fast.

“shh, it’s okay baby. i’m not upset because you reacted that way, i know you were stressed. we’re okay, y/n.” rin’s words were gentle as it helped you calm down from your crying frenzy. you raised your face up to look back at his face, seeing a soft and warm smile painted on his lips as his gorgeous teal eyes sparkled with love.

“i know but you’re my baby! and i love you so much! god, i was so mean, how could i even say those things? i’m so, so, sorry, rinnie. i shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you i’mtheworstgirlfriendeverohmygodwhydon’tyouhateme.” you ugly sobbed, your words weren’t even coherent as rin couldn’t help but chuckle.

he knew that you didn’t mean those words and he also knew that this would happen as well. once again, your gentle boyfriend knew you like the back of his hand.

“ahh, what a crybaby. hm, you can make it up to me by giving me a smile. i want to see my girlfriend smile before i go to sleep, not in tears.” he playfully said, as you lifted your head to meet his eyes once more. the sight of such a domestic scene made your stomach fill with swarming butterflies.

fuck, you just wanted to marry him.

“i’m gonna eat you up if you don’t stop looking at me like that.” you poked his chest, making him laugh as wiped away your tears with his fingers.

“and exactly how am i looking at you?” rin asked and you mumbled.

“like you wanna grow old with me until i die.” you bluntly responded, making his smile widen.

“and what if told you that it’s exactly what i want?” he gave you a cheeky grin, making you blush as a giggle left your lips.

“then what’s stopping you, idiot? marry me! i do, i do, i do!!” you exclaimed before crashing your lips with his. you placed your hands on the sides of his face, pulling him closer to you as both of your lips molded into each other’s. rin’s arms securely wrapped around your waist, following the rhythm of your lips.

the kiss wasn’t intense, it was sweet and lasting with a touch of innocence. it was a kiss in which you both enjoyed each other as lovers. and you loved this feeling, the feeling of breathing, tasting and touching him.

your sweet, kind and gentle lover, itoshi rin.

pulling away, you looked at him with adoring eyes, swiping away the strands of hair that covered his eyes. rin looked at you like you were the most beautiful and important thing in his life.

to which you were.

“i’ll make you my wife and keep you in my heart forever. i love you so much, y/n.” his heart swelled with his love for you. your eyes nearly shape shifted into hearts upon hearing his words.

“i love you more, rinnie.” you smiled, placing a smooch on his lips, purposely making noise as he chuckled.

“come on, let’s go to sleep. you have class early in the morning, i don’t want you to fall sick.” rin said and you nodded, the both of you getting comfortable on the bed. you scooched closer to your boyfriend, wrapping all your limbs around him as you placed your head on his chest. your ear was right on top of his heart, hearing the thumping noises of his heart beating.

it brought you peace to know such a perfect man existed, alive and in your hold right now. his pulse lulled you to sleep and soon enough, you were knocked out.

rin glanced down to his chest and saw you fast asleep, his lips curling upwards as he bent his head down to place kisses on your lips and forehead.

“oh, before i forget.” he leaned over to grab your phone, unlocking the device as he went to the submission box of your project assignment. he unsubmitted the report, going to the title page as he erased the names of your group members. a satisfied smirk was plastered over his face as he resubmitted the finished project that had just your name on it.

“tch, not giving those fuckers any credit for what was all you, my love. sleep tight.” he said before ending his words to himself with a yawn, his own eyes feeling heavy. you were very warm and soft, which meant that rin would be out like a light soon as well.

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k1ngdom-of-thieves · 6 months

Note

Ok here's the request, how would Deity! Jamil, Leona, and Malleus discovered their temple was attacked and destroyed leaving the reader a priest or acolyte the only survivor. And they had to fend for themselves. At some point, they return and rebuild the temple, then train the new people how to protect themselves. I hope this isn't too complex.

Thank you so much for waiting, I feel terrible for making you wait so long. I hope you still enjoy this :)

Deity!Jamil, Leona, Malleus + Watching their sole acolyte rebuild their temples!

Jamil Viper

Jamil was deeply enraged by the fact his temples were demolished, that his followers were slaughtered, and that his image was made a mockery of. That instead of simply dismissing his work, -which would have still pissed him off, but significantly less so- those against him chose to go after the innocent followers needing a place to belong.

He watches as the sole survivor, his poor acolyte, run to safety amidst the chaos. At this rate, there was nothing that he could do other than bless them with his gift of knowledge and hope that they would one day return.

Those hopes rang true as he saw you return many months later; and not alone. You had come back with a handful of skilled followers willing to come rebuild what had been destroyed. In only a handful of weeks, plans to revive the temple were already on their way. He was quite proud to see you use his blessings in such a way.

For Jamil, he sees the idea of making physical appearances needless to his followers. They know he watches over them, and he’d rather not deal with the frighteningly high number of people that go mad after meeting a deity. But, since you showed such a striking display of loyalty to him, he is more willing to bend that rule and thank you “in person”. It was via a mirage but the point still stands.

“You have shown me that your piety is unwavering, and that you truly care for me as well as your fellow acolytes. For that you have my thanks and my offer to you: I will grant you any wish you have, you just have to say it. What do you have your heart set on?”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is also quite pissed at the destruction of his temple, but shifts his focus to the sole survivor: you. As long as he’s able to assist you to safety, he knows the fate of his religion rests in good hands.

While Leona would like you to eventually return, he’s not holding his breath. Considering what you witnessed and experienced, he’d be very surprised to see you stay in that part of the city.

So imagine the shock he had when you came back, not some three weeks later, ready to reclaim what was thought to have been lost. Proud doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels as he watches you bring people from all over to assist. Especially since he definitely isn’t the most beloved deity in the pantheon.

Of course, he’s not gonna let you go unrewarded. And don’t even think about telling him that “working for him is reward enough” shit. He’s been around humans for long enough to know that they love their silly little gifts and trinkets.

“You. Let me talk with you. What is it do you want me to give you? Power, money, fame? Don’t get all bashful now, you did something for me and I’m not gonna let that go unpaid.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is completely heartbroken. For starters, his followers are very few and far between. So for them to be slaughtered to make a mockery of him shook him to his core. Was he angry? Yes of course, but he cared about the followers that he started to view as family more than anything else.

As he watched you flee to safety, he had convinced himself that you would never return to his temple. He didn’t blame you either. It was far too dangerous; his many enemies could be lurking anywhere.

When you do eventually return, whether it’s been days, weeks, months, or maybe even years, he greats you like you never left. With open arms and acceptance.

He works with you to rebuild the temple. Deities aren’t technically supposed interact directly with mortals, but it’s not a heavily enforced rule either. With his help, it’s restored to its former glory in a matter of days; alongside any additions you wanted to make.

“You came back to me. For that, you have my eternal gratitude. I will never forget your kindness, and swear that your actions will be rewarded handsomely.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twst jamil #twst leona #leona kingscholar #deity au #malleus draconia #twst malleus #jamil viper x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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heerinnie · 8 months

Note

rockstar idol gf with jungwon 🖤💋

As someone who’s doing a music major anything to do with being a rockstar is just mwah 💟🤭 so I’ll write a little Drabble of rockstar!reader x fan!wonie, also if you want to I linked some song suggestions for this at the bottom <3

^^ NSFW UNDER CUT, MINORS DNI (not proofread yet)

SYNOPSIS: During your performance at the biggest venue of your career you couldn’t help but search for the boy with a pair of cat-like eyes that managed to steal your attention even in an ocean of others people.

WARNINGS: slight power imbalance, sub!jungwon x dom!fem reader, oral (fem receiving), riding, cursing, handjob, mentions of the names: good boy and baby, love bites (fem reviving + thighs), unprotected sex (pls use protection), breeding, kinda cringe. If I missed anything please tell me <3

WC: 2k

Read under cut

Being an artist was always something you yearned, having crowds sing your songs and looking at the adoration in the eyes of the ones that looked up to you like you once did to the ones you idolised. You had the privilege of standing all mighty and tall on the stage to take in the beautiful sight of your biggest venue yet. Ten thousand people in the room, ten thousand people serenading you, nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine people whose lives had been changed because of you and yet one person in that room changed yours.

Out of all the people there, no one caught you eye as much as he did. Love at first sight wasnr something you necessarily believed in especially with the fact you never felt a strong attraction to another person, you imagined the feeling of falling in love and how it must be truly magical when it happens for the first time and now that it’s finally happened you knew your hypothesis of the feeling was true.

You were persistent on having him and no one else.

The stubbornness of wanting him lead you to giving him his own backstage pass where you could finally meet him and see him face to face. You waited and conversed with the other fans that were blessed with your presence until the room was empty with just your staff and friends. The feeling of embarrassment and disappointment crept upon you until your body tingled with what you could only explain as your spidey senses tingling- you felt a presence behind you only to see the same cat like eyes staring back at you. He walked past you with the utmost confidence and a smile on his face. He said “hi” and just like that you both connected and got lost into each other’s world.

You didn’t realise you two were talking for about 2 hours until you got scolded for not even changing out of you performance clothes, not wanting to leave him hanging you slid him your hotel keycard hoping you’d see him later in a more private place to ‘talk’ more.

—

Now that you were in your room you finally had time to yourself to repost the posts and stories you were mentioned in before a knock on the door distracted you from your fan service. Expecting it to be your manager you quickly threw on a robe to cover up that you’re only wearing your underwear and tank top. Opening the door you found yourself smiling at the pleasant surprise,

“Hey” the stranger said scratching his neck avoiding your eye contact as hard as he could, “I hope I’m not intruding or anything-“

“No you’re all good don’t worry!” Your voice interrupted him before he could overthink his own presence. Once you let him inside your room you both exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you held in.

As he sat down giving you a funny look but remaining quiet. It seemed awkward enough so you decided to start some small talk to cut the tension.

“So, I know we talked for an hour but I don’t think you ever told me your name” you admitted, he hesitated before answering feeling a bit flustered that his favourite musician showed interest in him after brushing it off as him just being delulu,

“Oh I’m Jungwon, Yang Jungwon but you can call me won or anything I don’t mind” jungwon rambled finally looking up at your concentrated gaze.

“You have a really pretty name Jungwon” his name sounded smooth in your voice, satisfyingly rolling off your tongue like butter. Jungwon swore he’s never heard someone say his name so perfectly- it made him stomach churn.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful your eyes are?” You looked him up and down mentally noting how he played with his rings and looked away when he’s shy or flustered, it made you feel sick at how he’s doing the bare minimum but it’s still enough to make you feral.

“I hear it quite often actually, thank you” his politeness covered up for all the thoughts he had of how the the night was gonna go. The way you laughed put his mind at ease knowing you actually enjoyed his company. As you closed the door and sat on the bed you noticed his face turn away as a small scoff left his lips as you accidentally exposed yourself to him forgetting you were braless only in a small tank top and underwear. You felt embarrassed noticing how Won shifted uncomfortably on your sheets until you saw the real reason behind his discomfort. The poor boy was harder than a rock as his erection bulged proudly in his pants. He was such a pretty boy you wouldn’t mind indulging with him for a night or two since the sight of his hardened crotch made you subconsciously squeeze your legs.

It took every ounce of willpower to suppress your desire to fuck him on the spot but a lustful need consumed you. The idea of sex is exciting but you didn’t want to seem shallow and give jungwon the wrong idea of you only inviting him for s good quick fuck before you return to planning your next album, that’s not what you wanted at all. After talking for a couple hours with Won you actually felt interested and decided you wanted to know him more.

“It’s Uhm- it’s kinda late and I should get going” his nervous voice trembled trying to discreetly hide his hard on but you didn’t want to let him go,

“Stay, please?” You didn’t want to let the desperation to echo in your tone but you pathetically pleaded for him to stay.

He must have noticed your increasing lust for him so he came and sat closer than before, dropping his hand on your knee, his erection got noticeably bigger leaving nothing for you to fantasize about.

“Let me help you out Wonnie” your hand travelled up his thigh until it was dangerously close to his dick.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you” he couldn’t hold back a moan as your fingers grazed his crotch. He put his head down ashamed for letting himself act so impulsively.

“Can I taste you?” He buckled his hips into your touch letting you feel his rock hard bulge,

“I need you to touch me” After touching his groin area a couple times to tease him Jungwon obliged and rubbed himself on your hand slurring out slutty curses at the friction,

“What do you want to taste baby?”

“Please let me eat you out…”

“Then come here baby” Jungwon lifted his head when he felt you tug on his arm pulling him towards the edge the bed- eagerly going on his knees, fully ready to devour you.

Your jaw went weak as he began trailing kisses upon your thighs, sucking your inner thighs before getting bolder and kissing you over your panties. At first he slowly licked over the material covering your clit making sure you were comfortable with him touching you this way, tasting the wetness he caused. Once he got your full vocal consent Won placed a finger under the elastic fabric pulling your panties aside revealing your wet cunt- making his cock painfully twitch, you grew hotter under his touch allowing your moans to become louder once he dipped his tongue inside your hole, grazing against your sensitive numb with his nose. Jungwons breath hitched when you pulled on his hair finding out he found the pain erotically pleasurable.

“I want you inside me" you confessed as Jungwon lapped his tongue between your folds eating you like a starved man, the poor boy couldn’t wait any longer to ease the burden of his boner- taking pleasure just from tasting your sweet juices. His soft mewls filled your ears as he inserted his fingers to thrust into your pussy and taking a break from eating you out to breathe and leave tiny nibbles on your inner thighs. Finally getting up he noticed you shifting your attention to his needs, you pulled down his pants and underwear all in one go letting his cock spring out showing you the impressive length with precum leaking out from his pulsating red tip.

You cupped your hand around his girth gently caressing it with your thumb giving him goosebumps as you stroked up and down on his dick enjoying the power you possess over him. He closed his eyes tightly, biting his lip praying he won’t cum instantly.

You saw this a chance to get the upper hand by pushing him down to where you were before but this time laying him down on your messy sheets, you sped up your movements whilst tugging on his balls making him give out the most beautiful and throaty moans.

Jungwon loved every moment you took control over him- the way you managed to control his senses sent shockwaves throughout his body. Jungwon gasped out loud as you ran your fingers over his tip, pinching it ever so slightly.

"Please don’t tease I’ll be good" Jungwon almost shout begged thirsting his hips up into your palm,

"Beg for me" his pleading look drove you wild making you go faster and harder,

"Y-yes, please I'll do anything just let me fuck you!" He hyperventilated, serenading you with his filthy and desperate whimpers. Sensing he’s getting close Jungwon squirmed underneath you begging to have you fuck yourself and use him like a toy. You instantly let him go leaving jungwon to sulk at his ruined orgasm .Your hand travelled up his chest to his face softly caressing his cheek while staring him straight in the eye before sinking down on his cock, you smiled before whispering,

"Don't worry I'm not done with you yet." Feeling the painful stretch as you fully sat on his dick.

Jungwons eyes rolled back into the back of his head at the sensation of your warm and wet pussy gripping his dick. This is the closest to heaven he's been. Your breathing becomes rapid; he has an immediate sense that something is about to happen and his heart was racing thinking about how soon it will end, it just felt too good. But you surprisingly started going slower, grinding yourself back and forward riding him like a cowgirlleaving Jungwon desperate for more. You increased your speed again, barely managing to keep both yourself and him contained without busting. His eyes wide open and fixed on yours he begged for you to use him.

“Do you think you’re a good boy wonnie?”

“Yes! I swear I’m a good boy” he chanted

“Do you think you deserve to cum inside me?” You stupidly didn’t mind wether he came inside you or not since you were on the pill end he seemed like he was clean,

“Oh my god please can I cum inside you” won choked out feeling the same gut tightening fireworks in his abdomen. With only a few more bounces you let go, clenching down Jungwons hot throbbing cock until he spurted out all his load filling you up and making you reach your orgasm at the feelings of being filled up. You both collapsed onto the bed panting out of sheer exhaustion and mind numbing pleasure. You only secured your want for him hoping this isn’t the last time you see him.

—

“You’re so cute” you pecked his cheek resting your hand on his face before pulling back and placing a real and gentle kiss on his lips.

“You did so well for me too” you let out a genuine small laugh at the way he scrunched up his flustered face,

“Was this just a one time thing?” He asked hoping that his heart wouldn’t get broken by a one night stand,

“I hope not, I could get used to you mr Yang”

With those words Jungwon held you tighter wanting you to know he agreed with you, a weird but wonderful feeling crept up from the pit of his stomach finally acknowledging he bagged his celebrity crush.

A/N: idk how to feel about this, it took days to finish writing since I’m busy with college and work so I won’t be posting a lot but I hope you liked it <3

-Rinnie 💟

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