#someone give my baby girl some fucking care and respect and tenderness!!!!

[mayasaura]

Gideon feels so unloved all the time and she doesn’t know that there are so many people who love her so much because those people keep forgetting to mention it to her face

I know what you mean. I want to just shake Harrow like a kitten to make her tell her!!

In way tho, to me, the tragedy of Gideon's life is that she feels unloved, and for the most part she's been right. She's bright, brilliant, funny, strong, dedicated, kind, stubborn, so so angry, and very loveable. And she hasn't been loved. Not enough, and not well enough by those that did.

Harrow's loved her... Probably their whole lives, but just try untangling that knot. She has a lot of ground to make up, and only got her shit together enough to start showing Gideon she loves her about sixteen hours before Gideon died. Sixteen hours, half of those spent asleep, against a lifetime of rejection. It's not really surprising Gideon doesn't believe her yet.

Aiglamene basically raised her, and she does love her, and I am deeply unwell about their relationship. I'm also a little glad Gideon never learned to associate the back of Aiglamene's hand with "love". That she knows there should be something better. I suspect—maybe I hope—Aiglamene did that on purpose.

Pyrrha has loved her since she was born, but she's only just barely met her. Her love didn't lead her down to the surface of the Ninth. She never tried to give her baby girl a funeral, and so never found out she was still alive. Her love did jackshit for Gideon all her life, and that might be hard for Gideon to get over.

There have been brushes with it, with other people. Palamedes, who was the closest thing she had to a friend outside Harrow. He held her hand and comforted her, and made sure she wouldn't be caught in his blast radius. Camilla who gave her medical care, and shared with her a mutual trust, and even made a joke at her expense once. Jeannemary, who thought she was super cool and died the same day Gideon first spoke to her. Coronabeth, who kissed her hand once and thought she was sweet. There was love there, with some, and the potential with others. None of these people knew her for more than the last few weeks of her life.

Gideon really truly hasn't been loved as a transitive verb. Someone finally telling her to her face would be a good start, but at this point I don't know what it's gonna take for her to trust. And I don't blame her.

#sorry that got away from me a bit #but like. #she's right!!! #someone give my baby girl some fucking care and respect and tenderness!!!! #not you harrow sweetheart I know you're trying as hard as you can #you were so so good at it once you figured it out #that's why you haven't been allowed to see her for a year and a half I guess #gotta keep us all with Gideon in the torture nexus #the locked tomb #gideon nav #ntn spoilers #htn spoilers #op

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

3.26.24 Tuesday

1:38 am

I still have windblow.... I feel bad, I wanna leave Cavite... I feel like the "new girl" here....I feel hurt on everything since 2007....

I don't have a group of circle right now, which is weird for me... I have windblow...

Where is Mitch? Did she give me a "simple battery"?? I wanna see her coz I always have a weird dream about her, like appearing on a shadow.

Where is Mark??? Is he nearby, observing me since 2007? Got a child with someone nearby here...Not even approaching me just simply laughing at my situation... Are you here Mark? I feel hurt if he is just nearby and observing. I need someone right now... I hope you didn't snap at me on other people. Did you snap at me Mark???

1:48 am

I'm having chest pain that I have a traitor love from the past...

What happened Mitch? Did you snap Mitch??

What happened Mark??? I didn't snap at you at your back... Did he snap at me???

I feel HURT if he is just nearby, I was fullt awakened year 2011....

My memory is now complete.... I have windblow and I can't get progress... I feel HURT here... You were my bf... I feel HURT for 17 years...

I really just wanna leave Cavite... I don't like being here...I feel offended here... I feel so invalid...

10:04 am

Thanks Jp, my friend for assisting me if no one will...

My 2 Uncle's are fakers.... They don't know how sensitive I'am....They don't know my needs...

I will ask Sugar on Ely later...New beginning of his assistance on me...

10:15 am

I hate George's family they the are one who is lifted up by Jun's group...

Face of Uncle DD is the face of everyone here...I feel bitter seeing them faking here with us...

10:34 am

Funny this app is fakers as well!!! The "Palm Secret"...

Check this out guys...

My present and when I was 5...But they changed the structure of my eyes and nose.

My present and if I'm already 50...

10:56 am

More of this app... I love this "Future Baby" with Ashton Kutcher...So,cute our combination.

My blend with Devon Sawa... More on stars...

My child with Prince Harry...

It seems the same face on my child with Ashton but on Caleb Simpson the eyes of my baby with Caleb is sharper than the eyes of my child with Ashton.

Hmmm....The nose must be pointed with Pilot Garret...

11:56 am

I still wanna leave Cavite... I'm super self-pitying here Mark...

Did you snap on me, at my back???

12:52 noon

Thanks Ely for back-up today...

65 today... Laundry Soap, Sugar and Tender Care...

12:59 noon

I'm still thinking of serums...I still wanna leave Cavite and I'm so hurt here...

Is Mark somewhere? Can you fucking care and lift me? I need a lift and I feel so ugly... I wanna be in Los Angeles...

1:35 pm

I really wanna leave Cavite... I feel wounded since 2007...

I feel so HURT on other women who keep on saying they know me but they are not my friends even those cheap DJ's....

But I still wanna be Kate-Like Mark? You know what I mean??? Time that I was spoiled, that I was the center and I have some friends who truly like me... Women who supported me coz I was the pamperd and baby-kind.

3:07 pm

Hmmm...I still have windblow... Hoping for the best..

Still, watching "True Blood" , I find it so weird if these are edited or the newer version....As far as I can remember the original "True Blood" was somehow a love triangle but the girl artist sookie is still the main stay of that "True Blood" new version...

3:17 am

"True Blood it keeps you alive, but it will bore you to death"... by: True Blood

Then,there must be LOVE on it!!!

4

4:29 pm

Happy Birthday Ely...

Thanks for the pancit palabok & Lumpia.

4:45 pm

I still have windblow.... I feel bitter and hurt... I really wanna see Mark and I don't want fakers angels....

I hope, Mark can reach this, I feel bad, if he is just nearby... I want him to respect my maturity... I feel bad... I need to ask him something?

Mitch? Did she give me a "simple battery"???

By the way ,Mark is mature...I mean he is mature,I hope but a lot of things happened...I just wanna know if he snap on me? I hate being compared???I wonder if he was just observing since 2007. I need a lift Mark... It was my old love...

Why we broke up??? Funny... I just want him to remember "our friendship"....Why we broke-up???

5:58 pm

I have windblow... Watching youtube, I find it weird that on adopting a dog, other people may take time like 3 months... It is weird... It never happened here in the Philippines... But as I watched in youtube in USA you must have the capacity to get a dog or adopt a dog.

One of the reasons, I feel HURT coz of the Filipino are hating me in callcenters there were people who keep on damaging me to get a career... They make me feel invalid and disable. They smash my value...

I hope Mark can accept my maturity....I feel so invalid and ugly....Is he nearby??

10:23 pm

My S-Bones are still aching....I have windblow... I feel bitter...I wanna leave Cavite...

I feel bad, I feel that I'm "the new girl" on somewhere that I shouldn'tbe...

#Youtube

[whatsnothappening]

today has been so uplifting and productive

Today i went into work and i was the opener. i ended up getting in late. i was a bit stressed but i was okay. i didn't let it bother me, i got my stuff done and just rushed so i could get through and open the store. it was a very slow day i made some decent tips and was happy because i ended up having a few requests today so that made it a more successful day. today was very positive. i worked with the two girls that i really get a long with and relate too. i feel bad saying this but the one girl that i was really close with at work i cannot stand anymore. i am cordial with her because we work together and i dont want a toxic work environment. i just cant stand her views and the way that she talks to people. she is very disrespectful and is not grateful what so ever. our boss is not perfect but to be honest i would definitely rather have her than other boss. she allows us to be our own stylist and to work how we like to work and be ourselves have our space and be independent with our work. she is not a micromanage type person she is very laid back. i am very grateful for that. she is also very giving. she constantly gets us new things to help us with our day to day work life. she is very supportive. she has her negatives but her negatives positives definitely out way the negatives. she is just so fucking selfish. i cant stand it. and she is so quick to put you down. the thing is if i have in issue with someone i am quick to address it because i am all about if we have a problem i will let you know because i want to work on it so we can get stronger and have a healthy friendship/relationship whatever. you can tell her till you're blue in the damn face what is wrong or what you have an issue with and she will not give a damn. she might change for a few days but then go right back to being a complete and total asshole. and to be honest i have just given up on her. i cannot stand it any longer. like i said i am cordial with her but i am done bringing her out with my friends and making them miserable i am done bringing her into my home and feeling judged and uncomfortable because she thinks my house is a mess or doesn't like my dogs. she is so quick to just roughly push my dogs away.. and im sorry but one of my babies is fragile he is an old man. so if you push him i will fuck you up. he is in his golden age and he deserves tender care and to be babied and to get what he wants. i dont know. i am 100% rambling on about her. i just kept going back and forth for the longest time on whether or not i should just try to rekindle our friendship but it is too much anymore. i have given her so many chances.. and instead of trying to do better and be respectful she comes crying back to me and acts like she is the victim. honey... no... you made comments about my body shape, you have made rude comments about my friends who i consider family. you have caused horrible drama with in my friend group and im over it. i do not care. but anywho, today was a good day. i worked with good people today i had good clients today. also on top of that my husband genuinely made me happy today. i know in one of my entries i was livid about our intimacy. today he made the first step to getting better. dont get me wrong. the love is there. i love him with all my heart. i know i said that i was done in that entry. but i was hurting. i will never been done with him. he is my heart and soul. my best friend. i could never live with out him. but today he went to the doctor and he got a recommendation to work towards getting his testosterone under control. we have a game plan finally and that just fills me with so much joy. i am so fucking happy. i think i went into the married life thinking it was going to sunshine and rainbows. that was extremely ignorant of me. i mean even life before marriage was not sunshine and rainbows. but i wouldn't want to go through this struggle with anyone else. he makes it worth it.. i dont know man. i guess so far so good. today is a really good day! the weather is nice out, it is still a little chilly. continued-

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

School Nurse

@letstalkaboutfandomsbaby led me to yet another 2D man that I want to get wrecked by

How would a school nurse react to Hwajin’s presence? Dabauchery will ensue.

AN: this started out as a short little drabble, turned into a long smutty mess that I finally rangled in with romance because… after care. As a nurse I was getting to into the logistics of the pencil stab

TW: smut, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, power exchange, mild wound description (pencil stab), sex in a nurses office, oral sex

NO MINORS

Hwajin knew you would look good on your knees. You had a bratty, stubborn nature that he wanted to overpower. He thought you were too gentle with trouble makers. When he told you this, you argued that it was your job as a school nurse to take care of all the students.

How was it that you were so hostile with him but when it came to even the worst students you were so gentle. It irritated him. You actively avoided him. Maybe he wouldn't care if he didn't find you so damn adorable. Thoughts of you kept him company late at night.

Even when he forced you to take a baton after he saw a student get in your face yelling. The only person you used it against was him. Apparently you wouldn't allow him to pull students out of your office regardless of their offense.

He was shocked to learn that few students ever bothered you. The worst offenders would constantly make advances at you and since you would have his head, he disciplined them only once you were out of range.

And you were equally irate. He treated you like a child when you tried to present him with research that aggression towards children under the age of 18 was just as detrimental as ignoring their bad behavior. You weren't against addressing the students inappropriate behavior, but the number of visits to your office had tripled upon his arrival.

It become rare that schools had a nurse on campus, barely coming back in to practice following the hands off policy. And at the most part you were mainly treating the faculty and the more unlucky students. If the Ministry of Education wanted to bring in people like Na, would you even have a job much longer?

/

"What are you doing here? I'm not harboring any students," You hissed as the warden entered your office.

"If I remember correctly, I'm here to oversee the whole school. That includes you. Besides I actually need medical help."

Hwajin turned the lock on the door before unbuttoning his shirt. He turned around to show you a shallow hole between his shoulder blades. You tried to keep the blush from creeping on to your face as you scanned his muscular body.

Apparently a student surprised him by sinking a pencil into his skin.

"Violence breeds violence," You chided when the realization hit. "Oh god, did you kill the student?"

You were truly alarmed. He took slight offense to that question. He wasn't a great guy but he wasn't going to kill someone on the job.

"Just give me something to bandage this up," he rolled his eyes.

You motioned for him to sit on the medical table but of course he had to make things difficult, choosing to straddle a chair instead. In spite of his protests that he could take care of things himself you pulled on a pair of gloves.

"Don't be such a pain, Mr. Na. There's no way you can properly clean what's on your back."

You probed around the wound that was already angry and red. The blood has begun to dry. Trying not to cause unnecessary pain you attempted to visually assess the bed of the wound for any debris that may lead to infection.

Instinctively he howled in pain as you began to clean.

"Will you just put a bandaid over it so I can get back to my job?"

You had to admit you were getting some sick satisfaction from this. The wound was clean and you applied an anti bacterial ointment but it was in a location where the skin tended to pull and stretch so you were sure it would bleed throughout the day-

"Are you smoking in my office?"

Hwajin gave you a cheeky grin before blowing smoke toward your face.

The nerve. In retaliation you flicked the inflamed skin while avoiding the actual wound.

"Ouch, you're cute when you get angry," Na laughed.

Your cheeks were scorching, "Okay Mr Na, you're all wrapped up. Stop by at the end of the day so I can change the bandage."

He winked while buttoning up shirt, "I knew you liked seeing me."

"Out." You hissed.

As he walked down the halls he chuckled to himself. He couldn't wait for you to submit to him.

/

Through out the day your mind wandered to Hwajin. Him sitting in front of you, shirtless and rippled with muscle. The parts of his skin left unscarred were so soft compared to his attitude. You wondered if his palms were as soft or were they were rough and calloused.

As if on cue the man walked into your office, catching you during one of your fantasies. Was it already the end of the day? Sure enough, the clock showed school let out half an hour ago.

Just like before he secured the door and stripped off his shirt. The bandage wasn't soaked, but it did need to be changed. The day warped your work and some of the tape was lifted away from his skin.

This time politely in the chair, he hummed as you removed and replaced the soiled bandage.

"Starting tomorrow you should just leave it open to air. This is really just to keep you getting your blood on your shirt. If you start thinking you have an infection go to the hospital." You turned around to discard your gloves.

As you turned back, you bumped into Hwajin Na. He smiled down at you and ruffled your hair, "Thanks, nurse, you took such good care of me. You'll have to let me thank you."

He lowered his mouth to your whisper in your ear, "what should I do for you?"

Your were in a losing position, you didn't want to make eye contact but you couldn't stare straight ahead, he still wasn't dressed and it was too overwhelming. You settled on looking down toward his feet.

You quickly snapped your eyes back up when you notice a bulge trying to push past his pants.

"Uh, no need to thank me. It's my job." You stepped back against the wall, at least giving you a bit more space.

Hwajin placed his arms against the wall so he could close the space between you.

"What's wrong? You're flushed. Let's see if you have a fever." He pressed forehead against your. "You feel a bit warm, but not worrisome."

You stammered, "Uh, Mr Na, it's late so we should probably wrap up."

"Mr Na," he mocked you. "Why do you do that? We're both adults, you can call me Hwajin."

Your eyes darted around the room. Maybe you were being punked. Was he testing you?

"It's respectful, it would be rude to call you by your first name."

He brushed a stand of hair behind your shoulder, pleased with your response.

"Well I can think of other titles you could call me that I would enjoy much more."

You were struggling between your desire and your fear of losing your job. Surely he knew what he was doing to you.

Of course he knew, the gleam in his eyes made that clear.

"Well, it's pretty late and I don't know about you but I'm tired after today so I'll see you tomorrow."

He dropped his hands and you took that as the end of his teasing. But instead he hoisted you against him, grasping the back of your thighs.

"My poor little nurse, I've kept you so busy. How about you lay down and let me help you relax."

"Hwajin, put me down," You smacked his shoulder. Listening, he sat you down the cot you constantly sanitized. In spite of what you were saying you allowed him to crawl on top of you.

"Hmm, now you use my first name, little nurse? And here I thought you were respectful," he nipped at your ears.

You shivered.

"Well pick one," You groaned. "First, no last name, then no first name. What's left."

His tongue darted across your neck while began tearing at your clothes, "how about you just be a good girl and call me 'Sir'."

At this point the primal part of your brain took over as you pathetically began to rub against his thigh. Your Irrational brain didn't need a job, it just needed this man to fuck her.

Nearly all your clothes were discarded to the floor as his mouth began to tease your breasts. Your hand tangled in his hair when sink his teeth into your tender flesh.

"Talk to me baby," he sighed. "Use your words, ask for what you want."

You lay out a whimper and tugged at belt loops, "fuck me."

He pinched your in thigh, "Now that's not using your manners. Am I going to need to teach you to behave?"

You mumbled a response that he could barely hear, eliciting another pinch to your thigh.

You huffed, "fine, please fuck me, Sir"

Pleased with your response he tugged your panties to the side, stroking your soaked pussy with his middle knuckle.

"Atta girl. You're so fucking wet for me. How long have you been waiting to be my little slut?"

He slid one finger inside of you with ease, arching you back as moved inside you. You were trying to fumble at his the button of his pants but he pushed your hands off him.

With a growl he removed his hands and your underwear from your body, "Not yet, although I'm flattered how desperate you are for me. Turn over, ass in the air, show me what's mine."

You were happy to obey, sliding into one of your favorite positions.

"You're not be very nice, sir," You teased. "You could at least remove your pants."

His hands came down hard on your ass causing you to cry out in pain and pleasure.

"Watch what you say, unless you like being disciplined. You already know I don't tolerate disobedience. And as much as enjoy your screams, don't forget that just because school is over doesn't mean everyone is gone."

You bite your tongue as he spanked you again. He certainly wasn't holding back. But he was right, there were after school clubs and some teachers stayed as late as 8. His fingers found their way inside your warmth again, fluid dripping from your aching cunt. You had adjust to his rhythm of spanking when his fingers were at their deepest. You felt so close to release. When he withdrew from you yet again.

You let out a frustrated groan until his hand made firm contact with your pussy. Once, twice, three times produce a wet spanking sound. You couldn't hold in your tears, thankful you were a glutton for pain.

"You still with me, princess?" He cooed, getting off the bed. You nodded. "Good girl, hold that position for me just a bit longer."

You nodded again, words evading your mind. You appreciated the coolness produced by the cot. Hwajin repositioned the pillow that had fallen on the floor and removed his belt.

Standing next to you on the bed he finally directed you into another position. He helped you stand, barefoot on the linoleum floor. You were held against his chest as you gathered your bearings.

He nuzzled against your hair, "I'm not a gentle man, if you need to stop at any time you say so okay. And that's an order. Can you do that for me princess?"

You told him you would as he helped you sink your knees to the pillow. He ruffled your hair again, telling you how good you looked. Finally he unzipped his pants, his erect dick right in front of you.

"Look at me."

You complied, tearing your ways away from his cock.

"If you want my dick then prove it. Open up that pretty mouth of yours."

He grabbed you by the hair, guiding your lips his shiny tip. Your tongue circled around him, admiring his taste. You weren't usually self conscious but you couldn't help but be nervous you'd disappoint him. As you began wrap your lips around him, Hwajin inhaled sharply. He gave your hair a gentle tug.

"Eyes on me. Good. You're doing so well. All the way to the base, baby."

You were almost there when there was a knock at your door. Hwajin kept his grip firm on you, instead of allowing you to pull back he shoved his throbbing dick down your throat and began fucking your mouth while putting a finger to his lips. He was smirking like the devil. Your throat constricting in protest.

"Excuse me, nurse," one of the school kids called. Knocking again.

"Fuck," Na muttered as he released into your mouth. Tears spilled over your eyes as you struggled to swallow.

The nock persisted, "hellooo? Come on I need to pick up a physical form."

"She's busy, fuck off."

As the footsteps faded down the hall Na released you from his grasp. He couldn't help but laugh at you when you pouted up at him, your were glistening and your cheeks were rosy and puffy. God, next time he swore he would take a photo of you on your knees after sucking his dick.

"Really, you had to open up your loud mouth," You whined. "You could've just pretended no one was here."

He shrugged in response, helping you off the floor.

This time on the cot you were both undressed. Hwajin sucked and bite on your neck. You nudged him off telling him he was gonna leave a mark.

"You're telling me I can't mark up my little whore?"

"Just not where students can see."

That was fair enough, there were other places he'd rather leave bruises. Between your thighs. Your stomach. Your breasts. Proof that he had made you his.

He wouldn't bite too rough, not want to scare you off. He planned on making more of these moments with you. You were better in person. Exceeding his late night fantasies.

Finally he began to slide his cock inside you, your pussy searing with pleasure at his size. It was a struggle to control the volume of your moans.

"Does my little slut like that? You want me to stuff you?"

"Please," You cried, needing more or his touch. "Please don't stop, Sir. Please let me cum on your dick."

Hwajin began to pound harder into your tight pussy, admiring how your body reacted to the sheer force of him. Each time he snapped his hips against you, your lush breasts, along with the rest of your body, followed with an intoxicating jiggle.

You were exactly what he needed and he wished to consume you. His mind flashed to images of you tied up and exposed for him, placing all of your trust in him. Or he could snap a pretty collar around your neck and tie you to the bed with a leash, you would be begging him to fuck you like a bitch.

"Tell me need me," he growled. "That no one else can fuck you into submission and make you dumb with pleasure. Your mine and I don't share."

Tears rushed down your face as a mixture of pain and desire burst the pressure in your core. You clenched around him, babbling what he instructed you to and meaning every word.

The tightness of your orgasm shocked both you and Hwajin. Paired along with your heat pushed the man past his limit, releasing his thick cum inside of you. Even through the near blinding pleasure of his own release Hwajin felt a moment of worry, he hadn't meant to pour himself inside of you, he was fully aware he wasn't wearing protect and had gotten your consent.

Between your gasps and moans you were were repeating a breathy thank you. Unless he had died and gone to Heaven You were actually begging him for more of his seed. Crying out that you needed him to stuff you full. The man nearly confessed his love for you on the spot.

However he maintained his composure. Pressing closer to you and guiding you through the high of your orgasm.

He combed his fingers through your hair, whispering praises and reassurance. Telling you to relax into him, he wasn't going anywhere. Finally your grip on him relaxed as a gluttonous smile graced your lips.

Na propped himself up next to you with his elbow. His other hand cupping your face.

You looked at Hwajin, "This doesn't mean I'm going to ignore your behavior towards the students."

"You know, seeing you protective over a bunch of snot nosed punks makes me want to fuck you until your nine months pregnant. It would keep you out of my hair while you were stuck waddling around home safe and sound. Win-win."

You gawked at him. Joking that you had yet to see any paternal instincts from him.

"I am actually great with children so long as their raised right. Like hell I'd let my kids turn out like these delinquents."

The two of you bantered back and forth while re-dressing. It was dark by the time you exited the school. Na was lighting a cigarette the minute he was past the schools threshold. You began to tell him goodnight where the two of you should naturally part ways but Hwajin caught you by the wrist, a confused expression thrown your way.

“Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet," he said, cigarette hanging from his mouth. You were about to respond when he cut you off. "Round two will be so much better in my bed. You'll be lucky if You leave my place in time for work tomorrow. But we should probably feed you first. I gotta take care of my little nurse."

#hwajin na #smut

[buckybarnesdiaries]

heaven

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you're the author lemme know your @.

bucky barnes x fem!reader x sam wilson

⎢ masterlist.

word count: 1.781.

warnings/tags: NSFW, +18!!! threesome, fingering, unprotected sex, language, mention of bodily fluids.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

You weren't drunk enough to blame alcohol for letting Sam invade your mouth with his expert tongue. The music outside of the random room you found maintained you with your feet on reality somehow, to not think it was a dream. A good dream. Even if you were focused on the way he was making you feel and the heat he was causing between your legs to burn down your soul, Bucky's fingers rolling the dress' straps by your arms until it fell to the floor kept your attention on him too. From one second to another, you were naked among the only two men you desired in your life —your boyfriend and his new best friend.

You couldn't help but moan pleased when they pressed you against their bodies and Bucky's huge hands made their way to your hard nipples. He squeezed your breasts slowly, delighting himself with every touch and the sound of every gasp dying on Sam's tongue, still dominating yours masterfully. You ran out of breath at the feeling of their rock dicks being rubbed to your ass and pussy respectively. You were in heaven between those two men.

“Tell him what you want, doll”. Your boyfriend murmured hoarsely into your ear, touring the shape of it with his teeth, causing you goosebumps all around.

“Ca— Can you…? Fuck…” You whined through your parted lips when Bucky dug his incisors in your shoulder. “Sam… I… I wan— want yo— shit… I've fantasized of you… fuckin— fucking me with your fingers”.

“That's what you want, uh?” He inquired rhetorically, pawing your sides roughly as one of his hands toured your right thigh straight to your cunt barely covered by a thin thong. Soaked.

“Please…” You begged, placing your arms around his neck.

Sam licked his lips, not needing to look at Bucky for permission. What you didn't know is that ten minutes ago they had a conversation on the terrace to make that happen. No one could deny that you'd die for Bucky's love. He was everything you had, and you were everything he had. But, when both of them appeared in your house really fucked after a mission, you started to feel some kind of desire for Sam. Only desire. Your heart was occupied with your boyfriend.

You came back from your thoughts as soon as the second man recently involved moved the small string aside. He played and teased your folds using the fingertip of his index digit, making you toss your head back to Bucky's left shoulder. Your boyfriend drunk delighted the crying you uttered inevitably when Sam slammed his finger into your tight walls, clenching around him. While the soldier was being all sweetness and delicacy, kissing you slowly, the pilot started to fuck you hard adding a second curled finger. And God blessed the loud music outside to cover your wrecked moans and your pleads.

“Does Sam make you feel good, doll?” Bucky purred with his eyes fixed on yours, watching you gasp in sync with the palm crashing violently against your pussy.

The three of you knew you hadn't much time to be disappeared before someone suspected, and the fierce pace of thrusts to your g-spot had you shivering under Bucky's grip.

“Oh, fuck, Sam”. You sobbed, not being able to form a proper sentence.

As your boyfriend guided his lips to your neck —sucking a hickey there to mark his forever-territory—, the pilot was back to attack your mouth. Your fingers were tightly nailed to the back of his head, starting to rock your hips looking for more friction against their sensible cocks. The grunts coming from them filled the room.

“Shit… you're gonna make me cum in my pants”. Sam growled, landing his free hand in your ass, squeezing it and forcing you to move it faster against Bucky's dick, being a bundle of moans dying on your neck.

“Got'a better idea…”

As you heard your boyfriend chuckling petty onto your ear with his orbs fixed on the dark ones of his friend, you knew they were going to ruin you.

“Listen to me now, doll. 'M gonna leav—”.

“Plea— Please, Bucky, don't”. You whined, not knowing how much you could handle the way Sam was impaling you by adding a third finger, making you cover your mouth with a hand or the whole compound would hear you.

“I can wait for you”. He hummed, turning your face towards his. “But I wan'you to show him how good you make me feel… And I'll give you a reward later”.

You were conscious that it didn't matter the times you begged him to stay, they had made a decision before coming into that room and that was what was going to happen. Bucky placed one last kiss full of love and tender at the moment Sam gave a break to your abused cunt, and you watched him leave after checking there wasn't anybody around, placing well his jeans in the zone of his bulge crotch.

“We can't stop if you don' want to continue”. Sam mumbled then, holding your hand to bring you closer.

You were panting trying to recover your breathing, pouting at him inevitably. As soon as Bucky left you alone, you felt a slap of reality and insecurities straight to your face. And he noticed it, gently wrapping your lower back with his arms since your legs were shaking and too weak to stand by themselves.

“Look at me”. He asked you then, showing you a fleeting smile barely curving up his lips. “Bucky wants it and I do too. But it only matters if you want or not. This… This is like a test, alright? You try and if you like, and if you want, we'll repeat. Bucky, you and I”.

You nodded hardly swallowing, sure that you'd make it up to your boyfriend later. You weren't in love with Sam, only with Bucky and you needed to demonstrate it to him. You glanced at the pilot unzipping his pants to pull them down along his boxers, letting his painful erection spring free to his abdomen still covered by the white shirt he was wearing. Your right hand gripped his sensitive skin, licking your lips at the sight, pumping his glorious dick slowly, as Sam made you walk backward to the immaculately done bed. He sat first, not being in need of telling you what you had to do next.

He watched you pull down by your thighs your black thong till it was thrown on the floor, before heading to his lap and sitting on it. Sam's cock was thick and long, pretty similar to Bucky's, so you knew it will cost you a second to fit your clenching and abused cunt around him, but you were too anxious for being fucked by him that you didn't care. You practically bounced on Sam, ramming his hardness into you beyond your limits. He was fast enough to make you drown the loud cry out in his mouth, crashing his lips on yours.

He filled you completely, gripping his hands in your hips slightly painful to urge you to move, to dance your body. And you did it with nothing but whines and gasps.

“You're so… tight, baby girl”. Sam grunted rolling his eyes white. “Oh, fuck…”

You still couldn't believe what was happening between those four walls. You were impaling your cunt once and once, with any mercy, using your boyfriend's best friend's dick. And you liked it. You loved it. Sam was making you feel really good. Not the same way Bucky used to do, but enough to put you to beg him for letting you cum. You needed it, and you wanted him to flood your guts too.

“Ple— Please… Please”. You cried hiding your face into the crook of his neck, feeling the tears of pure desperation run down your cheeks.

“C'mon, my sweet girl… cream my dick…” He whispered with such a honeyed tone, almost hurting you by the way he had to nail tighter his fingertips in your buttocks. Painfully pleasurable.

You couldn't contain the orgasm anymore at his petition, looking for his mouth to invade yours again by using his tongue to drown the delighted scream he caused on you, while the ecstasy hit your body wildly. But Sam didn't stop from forcing you to keep jumping onto his twitching cock, pushing you down strongly and feeling him almost touching your stomach when his seed was spilled inside your clenching and glad abused pussy.

“For the fuc— fucking love of… God”. He roared in a broken tone of voice.

Your thighs were quivering at both sides of his legs, your lungs were emptied and your mind went completely blank.

Once you made sure to look like anything happened, you left the room before Sam —ashamed but satisfied—. Trying to walk normally, as your legs were still feeling weak, you looked for your boyfriend where he told you where he was going to be waiting for you. In the desolate kitchen. You glanced at Bucky sipping a glass of whisky, suddenly fading away your embarrassment and your insecurities with a smirk towards you, stretching his cold hand to hold yours and push you to his warm body.

“Did Sam fuck you good, uh?” He wanted to know humming, gently caressing your swollen and somewhat darker lips with his iron thumb. You nodded in silence, stealing the glass from his other hand to drink it in just one gulp.

“Can yo… Can you take me home?” You murmured in a plea, almost pouting at him.

“Hey, hey… Listen”. His tone changed in the blink of an eye from seduction to concern, placing his index finger under your chin. “You don' have to demonstrate me anythin'… God… I've never in my life felt so damn turned on than tonight… Watching you being fucked by Sam while you were looking at me…”

“You… You didn't leave bec—”.

Bucky interrupted you by freeing your hand from the glass, wrapping his left around your throat, and nailing the other in the center of your ass, directing his middle finger to that tight unexplored hole under your dress.

“I wan'to repeat, doll”. He purred in your ear, causing you to gasp against his by the pressure in your entrance. “I wan' Sam and I to fuck you at once… I wan' you to suck my dick —your dick— as he eats your sweet, little pussy… Fuck… Fuck, I'm hard only by imagining it, doll”.

“Buck…” You sobbed tightening your fingers in his shoulders. “Take me home… I beg you… Please”.

a / n: i'm thinking about turning this into a polyamorous relationship, and therefore into a series. what do you think?

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

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[talesofstyles]

Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.” 

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be. 

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go. 

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays. 

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home. 

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing. 

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids. 

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve. 

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea. 

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy. 

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry. 

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.” 

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead. 

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone. 

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go. 

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too. 

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again. 

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door. 

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse. 

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub. 

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577. 

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows. 

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see. 

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him. 

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else. 

“Just a pint,” I tell him. 

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her. 

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop. 

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl. 

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where. 

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head. 

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do. 

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight. 

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1. 

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born. 

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.” 

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly. 

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight. 

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns. 

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly. 

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.  

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention. 

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis. 

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again. 

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle. 

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did… 

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing. 

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle. 

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics. 

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk. 

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap. 

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it. 

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time. 

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either. 

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window. 

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me. 

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly. 

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it. 

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me. 

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room. 

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly. 

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up. 

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal. 

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life. 

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What? 

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say. 

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.” 

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.” 

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it. 

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me. 

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now. 

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife. 

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk. 

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle. 

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh. 

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. 

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer. 

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter. 

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.” 

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head. 

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly. 

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?” 

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm. 

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.” 

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards. 

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses. 

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her. 

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead. 

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door. 

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week. 

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating. 

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside. 

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed. 

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously. 

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.” 

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll. 

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me. 

-

Read part II here!

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #boyfriend!harry #husband!harry #dad!harry #dad harry styles #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles imagines

[danses-with-dogmeat]

romanced hancock reacting to pregnant sole? (obviously not his baby, but a donor's haha)

Hancock x Pregnant! F!Sole Headcannons:

Oh look! I've been enabled yet again! No, but this is great though, I love thinking about happy companions starting a family with Sole ❤

Also, if y'all want any headcannons or anything for companions as parents please hmu, cuz my brain just naturally seems to consider that after doing these pregnancy prompts anyway 😅

Anyway, thanks for the ask, I hope you enjoy!

The ghoul always wondered whether or not his tear ducts would still work after his whole ordeal, and the news that the love of his life was ready and willing to start a family with him would certainly seek to find out. As soon as she gave the word that the donorship had worked, Hancock would be grinning wide and tearfully, with upturned brows and a trembling lip. Unable to speak at first, he would pull an equally tearful Sole into the tightest hug he could muster, their bodies flush, his arms enveloping his love as his roughened cheek pressed insistently against her smooth one. “You just made me the happiest ghoul in the whole damn world, you know that, sunshine?” He’d say just before touching his lips to her cheek in a long, drawn out, tender kiss. (The action may or may not escalate into a long trail of kisses spanning across Sole's entire face as mirthful giggles escape her lips.)

Who would've thought that this was in the cards for him? Certainly not Hancock. He thought he was lucky enough just to be in the presence of someone like Sole, but for her to return the feelings he had for her? To enthusiastically agree to being in a relationship with him? To want to start a family together? Hancock was sure he was dead, or riding the wildest high of his life, for how could this be reality for someone like him? A junkie, a bachelor, a coward, a ghoul, a flimsy torn page with "bad news" written all over it. Nah, he didn't deserve this, but damn was he overjoyed at the fact that Sole thought he did, and who was he to question her judgement?

Hancock had never thought this would be possible, the whole "baby" thing… even though he knew about donors and such, he always thought it would be too painful for Sole to consider having a family again. And with him? Of all the folks in the Commonwealth and beyond, she wanted the infamous ghoulified mayor of Goodneighbor to be a father? To her kid? He was fucking ecstatic. He didn’t quite understand why she wanted to raise a baby with him, why she thought he’d be any good at it, if she thought that. He knew he wouldn’t be the perfect fit for this kinda lifestyle; that he knew for certain, but the fact that she wanted him to try… that shit made his whole body tingle with warm gratitude from the inside out.

He would try to be calm, collected, and altogether nonchalant about the whole process in order to keep Sole relaxed. From finding the donor, to the fertilization, to the pregnancy, and all the way through to Sole going into labor, he would try to be as calm and cool as a November night. And on the outside, he'd do a damn good job, but inside? Nah, inside, this ghoul's worried sick. If anything went wrong with his sunshine, he wouldn't know what to do, he's not sure he could take a blow like that.

So, he’d try not to think too much about what could go wrong, since he knew that would only make it harder for him to be there for Sole in the way that she needed, but occasionally he’d just have those kinda days. A bad trip, a fitful night fraught with horrific dreams, a bout of horrifying overthinking as Sole uttered a pained sound from one little thing or another, or a stint of morning sickness that seemed to last just a bit too long for his liking. All of these would have the poor mayor on edge. Normally, when he was stressed, Hancock would try to chill out with some jet, or calmex, but he really was trying to give up the junkie life to the best of his irradiated abilities. It was a vicious cycle of anxiety every once in a while, but Sole was always there to help him through it. To remind him that this wasn’t her first experience with having a baby, to tell him that he was doing a wonderful job, despite his anxieties, and to remind him that they were the Sole Survivor and the Mayor of fucking Goodneighbor, and that they could face damn near anything when they were together.

Those were only the bad days though. On the good days, oh, hon... Hancock was simply blissful. Sole really is in for a treat, as she is absolutely 100% pampered and loved on, coddled and looked after for 9 months straight, and then some (minus the couple of bad days, where she has to be the one doing the coddling, but really, how could she mind?). As soon as the pair finds out that Sole really is going to have this baby, Hancock is already offering her anything she may need in order to stay safe and comfortable for the next 9 months.

Hancock’s chill personality really shines when it comes to any mood swings Sole may have, and a lifetime of chem and alcohol use has rendered the ghoul particularly skilled at cooking foods that are comforting and easy to make/eat that come in handy after bouts of morning sickness. Who knew that all of his hangover experience would come in handy like this?

While Hancock loves nothing more than going on adventures in the Commonwealth alongside his beloved, he wouldn’t say it in so many words, but would be more reluctant than usual to leave Goodneighbor or Sole’s house. When, before, he would have leapt up at the prospect of hunting down some goons and making the world a better place through some good ole fashioned violence, Hancock couldn’t think of anything worse than having Sole get injured, or potentially losing the one he loves more than anything in the world, and the possibility of a future family with her if some shit went wrong. So, while he absolutely knows she is capable and an complete beast in combat, and he recognizes that Sole can’t stay cooped up indoors for the whole 9 months, (and let’s face it, he certainly doesn’t want to either, but he’s not about to leave his love behind so he can get outta the house once in a while) he definitely steers the pair away from the areas he knows to be more sketchy than others.

Hancock just loves showing Sole off. He did this before the pregnancy as well, but man, now if anyone comes up to the pair when she starts showing, you know Hancock is already beaming as he tells the inquiring stranger just how far along she is, whether it’s a boy or a girl (if they know), or even what they think the baby’s gender is if they don’t want to know/can’t find out, how often the baby has been kicking, and he may even ask for opinions on baby names from certain kind folks who come up to chat with the parents-to-be. It’s also quite likely that he uses these passer-byes as an indirect way to further compliment Sole, saying things to them like, “Doesn’t she look gorgeous?,” “Just look at how she glows,” or “It’s just incredible how you/these ladies do this, isn’t it? Damn it if she's not the strongest person I know,” just to showcase his admiration for her. Does it sometimes result in strange looks from the strangers? Of course. Does Hancock care, or even seem to notice? Not remotely. He's too busy gawking at the love of his life and her blushing, embarrassed glory.

The mayor tends not to be rude about it unless the person ignores him, but if he notices someone smoking nearby, he will ask them to put out whatever it is, or to simply move if he and Sole were there first. In addition to that, he will make quite the lifestyle change for himself, voluntarily giving up chems to the best of his abilities so long as withdrawals don't prevent him from caring for Sole, and when he does partake, Hancock won’t do it around her, he’ll move outside or to another room. He would also offer to give up alcohol, since he knows that she won’t be able to drink with him anyway, and leave it up to her if she wants him to go cold turkey like her. Even if she doesn’t mind, he still won’t drink in excess around her during her pregnancy. It's kind of a respect thing for him, and there ain't no one he respects more than the future mother of his child.

(little bit of NSFW content here) When it comes to sex, Hancock is even more generous than usual in the bedroom (if you can believe it's possible). His every movement acts as a tribute to his appreciation for the woman he loves more than life itself. He’d be sure to be gentle, but in all honesty, Hancock wouldn’t change anything too much (no need to fix what ain't broken, ya know?). He has always paid particular attention to Sole beneath the sheets, since he’s quite experimental, and comfortable with most kinks and things himself, so he tends to let her choose positions, location, duration, and pacing, and would definitely keep it this way during the pregnancy. You think this man used to really get into body worship before, this is just a whole nuther level. As Sole puts on weight later into her pregnancy, he takes full advantage of her swelling plushness, running his hands over her body, taking the time to squeeze and palm every bit of her growing softness, constantly complimenting every bit of her as his starving eyes eat up every inch of her beauty. Especially if Sole is self-conscious about any of the changes in her body, Hancock will be sure to constantly remind her that she’s the most captivating and gorgeous person he’s ever met. No stretch mark appears on her body without being lovingly kissed, no soreness will develop without the offer of a nice, long massage (this perhaps is just another excuse to get his hands on her), no tenderness will go unnoticed and will be accounted for when his hands are roaming her body. In general, he’s as loving and doting as ever, but he's also on high alert for any signs of pain or discomfort coming from his other half.

He’d be SO excited every time the baby kicked. For some reason, the babe seems to wait until he’s around to do it, and he’s thrilled. Sole is a little weirded out by it, but she honestly takes it as a good sign. But oh man, Hancock's hands will be all up in that shit, not wanting to miss a thing as Sole smiles at him like this isn't the fourth time this has happened in one evening (does he use this as yet another excuse to touch Sole? Hmm, who knows [the answer is yes]). Sometimes he forgets to be sympathetic when Sole can't sleep due to the fluttering in her belly, but his roughened hands smoothing rhythmically over her stomach throughout the night might just help her catch a few Zzs after all.

He’s admittedly quite nervous as she approaches labor, becoming ever more protective as her belly swells to its largest point, ensuring she avoids any kinda gun fight, crazy high heights or unneeded stress, and he would be adamant about Sole sitting out any outings, missions, or other activities in the dangers of the Commonwealth. But man, would he make an environment she didn’t want to leave. Pillows, snacks, dim lighting, good conversation, music, soft touches, compliments galore, and a man who is at her constant beck and call, willing and happy to do anything and everything she might need or want? Yeah, here’s to say, Sole didn’t really want to leave anyway.

By the end of the pregnancy, Hancock has a strange mix of apprehension and denial going on. He’s used to Sole being pregnant now, he knows how to deal with everything, how to take care of her, what makes her uncomfortable and how to fix it. But a kid? An infant? He doesn’t know how babies work, doesn’t know how to tell what they want from him. He’s excited beyond belief at the thought of being a father, but he just doesn’t know how to do it. He tries to think back to his own dad, and the way that he was brought up as a kid, (though, he's not sure that's a great frame of reference given the way he turned out) and definitely goes off of Sole’s judgement, but he can’t shake the feeling that he was never meant for this. To settle down and have a family. He isn’t his dad, he’s Hancock. He’s not a “family man,” not a picturesque pre-war looking man with a normal job and a cookie-cutter backstory; he’s a self-made ghoul, a junkie, a deadbeat whose earned his position of power by bathing in the blood of tyrants who died by his own hand, and shooting his veins up with every kinda poison the wastes have to offer. How do you explain that to a kid? That he made himself the way he is, cuz he couldn’t stand the man he’d grown up to be? What the hell kinda example is that? He wouldn't doubt for a second that his baby would be the center of his world from the moment he sees it, but if anything, that only ups the anxiety that he'll do something to mess the kid up. Hancock would be nervous as shit, but if Sole had confidence in him, well… he trusts her judgement more than he does his own, so if she thinks he’s "daddy" material, he ain’t gonna argue with that. All he can do is hope she’s right, follow her lead, take it one day at a time, and hope that him trying his absolute hardest will be enough.

#fallout #fallout companions #fallout companions reactions #fallout companions reacts #fo4 #fallout 4 headcanons #fallout 4 companions reactions #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 companions reacts #fo4 companions #fo4 headcanons #fo4 hancock #fallout hancock #john hancock #hancock fo4 #hancock x sole survivor #pregnant sole survivor #f!sole

[westcoastrry]

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue​ . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.  

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #haryr styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles angst #mafia!harry #harry styles mafia #harry styles x oc #harry styles x woc #harrystyles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #ha

[samadiw]

Knickers - Part 03 - Yellow Knickers 💛

.

Yellow?

Fucking yellow?

She didnt have yellow knickers, she didnt have yellow anything and it wasnt like she could stroll into Hogsmeade and buy a pair.

Hermione pulls out her drawer of knickers, for a girl who didnt get it on much, she had a drawer full of colourful undies, one must always feel good in what covers your twat.

She gingerly picks up a scanty almost see through black pair of knickers, well, they would have to do.

Placing the pair on the bed, she reaches for her wand and waves it over the undergarment, the colour instantly changes from black to dark yellow.

Hermione grins, it looks better than she expected.

H : "Not bad..."

She flops down on the bed and thinks of Malfoy's cock for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

The fucker had no shame in just whipping it out in front of her, his crass boldness turned her on, he didn't care to tip toe around her as if she would shatter into a million pieces.

Her toes curl with wanting, he would widen her nicely, she had always been told she was tight.

Damn that bloody Malfoy cock.

*******

T : "The fuck man."

B : "Don't you get sick of losing?"

T : "You're cheating, I know it."

B : "Its wizards chess, you just suck."

T : "I have to meet Luna but once I'm back, I want a bloody rematch."

B : "Let's make it interesting, care to place a bet?"

T : "10 Galleons?"

B : "My house elf makes 10 times that, you bloody cheapskate."

T : "Later."

B : "Use protection, we don't want crummy chess players being added to the population."

T : "Fuck you, Zabini."

Draco walks in towelling his hair

B : "Ah, want to grab a butter beer?"

D : "Sure, mate."

Throws a bottle at Draco and he catches it expertly.

D : "So, whats the name of the new broad?"

B : "Patil..."

D : "Nice."

B : "Is Weasley still banging Granger?"

D : "Haven't a clue."

B : "She's looking rather fine this year."

Draco tightens his hold on the bottle and takes a long swig.

Blaise didnt know the half of it.

The next morning

T : "Fuck, are you ready to leave?"

D : "Yeah, I've got some, unm...work to do."

What he wanted to do was claim his seat in the Great Hall before someone else did.

B : "Well, I'm ready, I'll come with you, Theo, do hurry up bitch."

T : "Yeah, yeah, I'm hurrying."

They walk into the Great Hall and find it half full.

A bunch of 3rd years are sitting in Draco's usual place.

The blonde towers over the younger students and hisses darkly.

D : "Move, now!"

The adolescent boys trip over themselves in their haste to get up.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy, sir."

"Right away."

"So sorry."

Blaise and Draco slide into the seat.

B : "I think the tall one wet his pants."

D : "Respect, Blaise, must be taught when young."

B : "Theres a fine line between respect and bullying."

D : "Potato, potahto."

B : "Why the fuck do you keep looking at the entrance?"

D : "For Nott, ofcourse."

Blaise raises a brow and grins.

B : "Sure you are..."

Hermione links her arm through Ron's and he whispers a funny joke into her ear, she throws her head back in laughter.

From across the hall she can feel steely grey eyes watching her every movement.

She locks eyes with the ice blonde and bites her lip.

Settling down in her usual spot, Hermione looks at Draco through hooded eyes and challenges him.

Draco smirks, fucking showtime.

He's about to drop something when a voice cuts into his train of thought.

PS : "Mr Malfoy."

Fuck..

D : "Yes, Professor Slughorn?"

PS : "Come with me, boy, I need your rather unique potion making skills."

Come on, no, no...

D : "Now?"

Slughorn raises a brow.

PS : "Yes, now..."

Draco glances at Hermione desperately.

Did the old codger have to fuck up his morning?

Draco weakly protests

D : "But sir, I'm um..hungry."

Hungry for Grangers cunt.

PS : "Now! Before I start deducting points off Slytherin."

The bloody bastard.

Draco gets to his feet

D : "Fine."

Hermione looks on in disappointment, brings her legs together and watches Malfoy trail after Slughorn miserably.

The fuming Slytherin throws a look of annoyance her way before exiting the hall after the potions master.

Draco misses his first two lessons because of Slughorn's potions emergency, he is still at it when his year piles into the classroom.

He wipes his brow and looks up, Hermione grins and pats the seat next to her suggestively.

It wouldn't do to openly sit next to the Gryffindor without a bunch of questions being asked.

Draco coughs to distract everyone else and shakes his head, Hermione frowns, rolls her eyes and pulls out her books.

PS : "Good job, Mr Malfoy."

Draco replies in frustration.

D : "Yeah, no problem, Professor."

He gathers this things and sits next to Theo.

The class drones on and by the end of it Draco has dozed off more than once.

Theo nudges him and hisses.

T : "For fuck sake, get up."

The class ends and the exhausted students leave the dungeons and make their way to lunch before the next round of classes start.

Hermione studiously avoids Draco, she wouldn't go to him, let him come to her.

Refusing to sit with her, who the bloody hell did he think he was?

She steps into the abandoned girls bathroom to fix her hair and wash the tiredness off her face.

It takes but a second.

The door opens, closes with a bang and a heavy firm body presses up against her back.

Shocked at first, Hermione reaches for her wand but she looks up to see Draco grinning smugly at her.

She turns around and shoves him

H : "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

D : "Isn't it obvious?"

H : "This is the girls lavatory."

D : "I'm aware."

H : "Get away from me, you pervert."

D : "I haven't seen your knickers today, Granger."

H : "And you're not going to see them now."

D : "Oh, I beg to differ."

He places firm hands on her waist, lifts her and settles her on the counter.

Hermione lashes out

H : "Have you lost your damn mind?"

Draco winks.

D : "Possibly."

Hermione tries to hop down.

H : "I'm not playing this bloody game."

Draco holds her in place, his long fingers brush gently along her skin and edge upwards.

He pushes up the school skirt so it bunches around her waist and stares at the bright yellow undie hugging her pussy lips, outlining every dip and curve.

Draco swallows hard, up close she looks absolutely breathtaking.

H : "There, you saw them, are you satisfied?"

D : "Immensely, yellow might be my new favourite colour."

H : "Very funny, now let me go."

D : "Not so fast, pet."

He runs a long finger down her material covered slit.

Hermione gasps and a involuntary moan escapes her full lips.

She comes back to her senses and scolds.

H : "Stop it, anyone could walk in."

Draco rolls his eye, waves his wand and distinctive click echoes through the quiet bathroom.

He grins mischievously.

D : "Problem solved."

He continues to rub enticing circles around the flesh of her inner thighs.

D : "I wonder if you taste as good as you look."

H : "You wouldn't..."

D : "Oh, I would and you will love it."

He peels down her panties, leaving a trail of fire where his fingers touch her skin.

Draco puts Hermione smooth legs over his shoulders and bends to give her exposed cunt a quick lick.

Hermione gasps as he delves inside her with the tip of his tongue.

He gives her clit a quick flick and proceeds to eat her out generously.

Holy fuck, was Malfoy licking her cunt?

Oh, so good, so bloody good.

D : "You taste divine, let's see what makes you come."

Hermione's breathing elevates, she surrenders to the blonde licking her to glory.

The noises he makes as he moves his tongue echo in her head and fuel her pending release.

H : "Malfoy...."

D : "Wet, so fucking wet."

They have 4 minutes and 26 seconds before their next class.

Draco figures he needs 3 minutes tops to fuck her with his talented tongue and feel her orgasm on it.

D : "You taste fucking amazing."

He parts her pussy lips with his tongue again and begins to lap at her eager wetness.

Moving slowly, he uses the tip of his tongue to circle her ever receptive bud.

His tongue slips and he's rewarded with a loud moan.

Ah, so that's the spot.

Draco relentlessly tongues Hermione till she squirms.

He wants to look at her, keeping up his ministrations he braved a look at the witch whispering his name.

She was shuddering above him, her body wracked in pleasure.

Head thrown back, wild curls around her face, fuck...she looked stunning.

Her eyes closed, thighs spread wide and hands massaging her breasts and pinching her nipples.

This was a sight he could get used to.

H : "There, oh fuck...don't stop..."

H : "Oh...mm...I'm going to come."

Music to his ears, he takes her swollen bud between his lips and sucks hard.

D : "Let go, baby."

Hermione lets out a cry, grabs a fistful of Draco's hair and comes crashing down around him.

Only after she rode her high and stilled did he wipe her dripping juices off his chin and get to his feet.

H : "Well, that was..."

She hopes off the counter and attempts to stand on wobbly legs.

Draco licks his cum stained lips and grins.

D : "Something else."

H : Yes, something else.

Draco muses .

D: "And we havent even kissed yet."

Post orgasm bliss aside, Hermione asks.

H : "Why didn't you sit next to me? Do you still think me dirty?"

Dirty, was the woman mad? She fucking came in his mouth and he couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth.

Draco pulls Hermione close and kisses her.

The kiss is no gentle exchange between lovers, its hard, fast and demanding

He pries her stubborn lips open with his tongue and slips it in to seek the inner sweetness, they grab onto each other fighting for dominance, until, she breaks free and surfaces for air.

Draco nibbles on the heated flesh of her neck and whispers.

D : "That's your cum you taste on my tongue, do you honestly believe your blood status means fuck all to me?"

He places a tender kiss to her lips

D : Actually, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment of mingling with an ex Death Eater.

Hermione shoves him playfully.

H : "Sod it, sit with me tomorrow."

D : "You dig your own grave, Granger."

A distinctive tent decorated Draco's trousers, he cups the bulge and adjusts his painfully hard erection.

H : "Oh, you're still hard, let me..."

D : "We don't have time."

Hermione's face falls in disappointment and Draco smirks.

D : "Don't worry about it, you can make up for it tomorrow."

Draco picks up the discarded yellow knickers and pockets them.

D : "I'm keeping these by the way."

H : "You cant be serious?"

D : "I rather enjoy the thought of you walking about the castle knickerless."

H : "You fucking smug prat."

D : "Blue is my favourite colour, Granger."

Draco lifts the spell and walks out.

Funny, she would've bet her left tit that it was black.

#dramione #draco and hermione #draco x hermione #hermione granger #draco lucius malfoy #dramionefandom #dramionefanart #dramione smut #dramione fanfic

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

Or Red Lilly with Iida 👀

Thank you so much for sending an ask! Sorry this took me forever but i hope you like it!!

Red Lily (Passion) with Tenya Iida

Warnings: MeanDom/Tenya Iida, SubFem/Reader, impact play, handcuffs, use of “sir, good girl”, oral sex (fem receiving) consent check, orgasm denial, degradation, vaginal fingering, no condom, d*cryphilia. 

Also big shoutout to @doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam for helping me out!! I love all of you!!

The first time Iida found out that you sleep without clothes he gave you a two-hour lecture.

“What if there was a fire and you needed to evacuate immediately? What if someone broke in? What if you sleep walk and get out of your apartment? What if- “

“Tenya!” You grab his arms, concerned that they are going to fall off with how aggressively he was chopping them. “I understand that you are just trying to help, but I am comfortable sleeping like that. Could you please respect that?”

He looks down for a moment, the sun glare on his glasses making it impossible to see his eyes. When his shoulders drop, and he visibly relaxes you know he has calmed down. “I am sorry my dear, you’re right. It is important that you are comfortable.” He kisses your cheek. “Let’s go to bed now.”

Two years later

Iida was done, done with the day, done with people, done. Done. DONE.

He was late to the agency because of a villain backup that he couldn’t help with. When he finally ended up getting to the agency, he had to calm down several interns because number one hero Deku had stopped by. One of his engines went out because a villain on his patrol was able to get some sort of substance in his exhaust. This meant he had to go to Mei Hatsume because she was one of the few who could fix it. She tricked him into activating a “baby” of hers that exploded effectively covering his entire hero suit in ash and soot.

Numerous other things happened through out the day that soured his mood even further. The last thing was him getting home late, not 30 mins, not 1 hour, but 4 hours late. He had to take his hero suit to be cleaned and ended up taking a shower at the agency. All he wanted to do was go to bed with you.

Iida sets his stuff down by the door and removes his shoes. Walking carefully, so as to not wake you he opens the bedroom door and glances at your shared bed.

Iida’s breathing stops for a moment, the sight of you making his heart skip a beat. Laying on your side, one of your hands laying on his pillow; the blanket between your legs. Moonlight peaks through the curtains, bathing your naked form in a soft light that makes you glow.

As he shuts the door, he can feel his pants getting uncomfortably tight. You are so beautiful and what better way to ease the stress of a horrible day than to bury himself in your tight heat.

He walks up to the bed, reaching out to caress your face with his knuckles. Your eyes slowly open hazy, and unfocused from sleep, eyelids fluttering.  “Mhm… Tenya?” A soft smile appears on your face and you grab his hand, turning your head to kiss it.

“Sorry I woke you darling, why don’t you go back to sleep?” Iida feels guilty, waking you up just to have sex with you. He moves to pull his hand back but you clutch it tight, he looks at you, raising his brow in question.

You push yourself up with one hand and sit on your knees in front of him, still holding his hand. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you take a quick moment to stretch, arching your back and lifting your arms up in the air. You hear Iida suck in a breath and open your eyes with a smirk.

“Now why would I go to sleep when you clearly need some help turbo.” You lower the hand not holding his and graze your fingers over the obvious bulge in his slacks.

Iida shudders when you touch him but doesn’t react any further, more worried about your sleep schedule. “Don’t worry about me love, nothing I can’t take care of on my Ohh.” His sentence gets cut of when you give him a squeeze through his pants. His forehead pressing against yours you can hear his breathing getting heavy.

“Don’t worry about me love.” You repeat his words back to him. “Nothing we can’t handle together.” You place his hand that you were still holding on one of your breasts and grab the bottom of his shirt. As you pull it up, he reluctantly lets go of your warm chest and takes his shirt off throwing it behind him. You are already unbuttoning his pants before he throws his shirt and as you work to pull them down, he grabs your hands.

“Let me do this okay? Can you lay down for me? I want to look at you.” His eyes pleading, his face weary and tired you can’t help but abide by his wishes.

You lay back down on the bed, your legs bent at the knees resting to the side. Your hair is splayed out on the pillow a hand on your chest the other to your side resting with the palm up. Iida doesn’t move for a moment, entranced by the goddess in front of him. It’s only when you say his name on a breath that he remembers what he was supposed to be doing.

He undresses in a flash, quick and efficient his clothing forgotten in a pile next to the bed. Now its your turn to admire your partner. His dark blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and wide breadth of his shoulders. Iida worked hard to maintain his physique for hero work, and it showed in the way his muscles flexed as he moved to hover over you.

You both look at each other for a moment longer before Iida leans down to kiss you slow and deep. His lips melding with yours, his tongue meeting yours in a soft caress. You reach your hands to cup his face, but he grabs your wrists and pins them above you.

When he breaks the kiss, you can’t help but whine, arching your back and lifting your head to meet his lips once more. “Y/N.”

The authority in his tone makes you shiver in delight and submission. You lay back down on the bed, once again resting your head on the pillow as you look at his innocently. “Yes Tenya?”

His eyes darken further, almost black in the light. The hand not holding your wrists softly moves up from your hips to your breast. You sigh in contentment until his large fingers pinch one of your nipples and you yelp.

“Now dearest, I understand that you just woke up however – “He pulls on the nipple and you whimper, your eyes starting to water a sadistic smirk crawling up his face. “– I do believe you know better than to address me like that.”

“S-sorry, Sir. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He waits a moment after your answer then lets go of your nipple, rubbing soothing circles over it with his thumb. “That’s better. Now, I’m gonna handcuff you and you are going to keep your eyes shut understood?”

You nod your head before closing your eyes. “Yes sir, understood.”

You feel him shift on the bed and hear a drawer open before the sound of metal clinking together fills your ears. You fidget in anticipation before a sharp pain blooms on your breast. You cry out when Iida slaps you but keep your eyes shut, not wanting to anger him further.

“I thought you said you would be good for me dear. That also means staying still.” Iida lets go of your wrists locking one of them in the cuff before wrapping the chain on the reinforced hook he installed on the bed. Before he cuffs the other wrist, he softly grabs your chin and tilts your face up.

“Y/N, open your eyes for a moment darling.” When you do your eyes immediately connect with his, no longer dark with lust but softly filled with tender love and concern. “You ready for this? Let me know if you are too tired, we can stop.”

You shake your head and give him a soft smile. “I’m ready Tenya, I need you too.”

“Tell me the safe word.”

“Axel”

He kisses your nose, eyes quickly darkening again. “Good girl.”

Before he can ask you to shut your eyes again you do and lay still. “Thank you, sir.” You feel him shift again and you other hand is cuffed; he pulls on the chain to make sure its secure and double checks that the cuffs aren’t too tight.

When you feel the bed shift you know he crawled off of it. You try to listen, to hear any sound that lets you know what is going to happen next but there is only silence.

All of a sudden you feel to large palms on your thighs, giving them a squeeze before pulling them apart.

“Such a perfect pussy.” Iida lightly drags his nails down your legs, a breathy moan escaping your lips. “Look at you, such a good girl for Sir.” You feel a breath of air, the slick of your arousal on your cunt and thighs going cold.

It’s difficult, holding yourself still but the feeling of his large hands on your body keeps you submissive. His hands on your body, however, do not help with the anticipation. Iida isn’t moving, you can almost feel his eyes on your core but no movement, no dipping of the bed or shifting of his hands.

You whimper, trying to relay your need for touch you finally feel the bed move under his weight. “Are you trying to tell me something dear?”

You almost open your eyes, needing to show him just how bad you need his touch, but you don’t. “Please, sir. Please touch me, I-I need you.”

Silence, and then Iida slaps your pussy. You can’t help but arch your back and yelp, eliciting another slap from your lover for moving.

“I don’t remember this being about you. I vividly recall you saying that we were helping me.” Iida wrenches your legs apart father before shoving his face into your cunt, he licks a broad stripe up from your tight hole to your clit before biting to little nub.

“Ahhh! I’m sorry! I’m sorry sir you’re right!” You can feel the tears escape past your eyelids and Iida huffs before biting the inside of one of your thighs.

“Of course, I’m right now you will lay there and be obedient or I will punish you as I see fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

Iida kisses the mark he left on your thigh and continues kissing and biting until he gets to your core. “Fuck you look so good- “He licks you again, humming as your taste blooms on his tongue. “– taste good too.” He continues his ministrations, alternating between biting your thighs and licking at your sex. You can feel the faint tightening of your core, but he isn’t licking hard enough, not giving you enough attention for the feeling to build.

Iida relishes all the little whimpers and moans that escape your mouth. He can tell you’re getting frustrated with the lack of stimulation but like a good girl you are following his orders. After he has decided you deserve a reward, he slots his mouth over our cunt and starts dipping his tongue in and out of your slit.

The needy moan you let out at finally feeling something has his cock twitching. As you strain against the hand cuffs, resisting the urge to grind against his face Iida wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you impossibly closer.

You choke out a sob when he moves his mouth up to lick shapes onto your clit and gently suck it. He hums against you and the extra stimulation has you crying.

“Please S-sir, I’m m’gonna cum. Can I please cum?” Your thighs are shaking but you’re too focused on holding your orgasm back to care.

Iida thinks about it for a moment, slowing down his movements just to hear the frustrated cry from your mouth. He backs away from you for a moment, chuckling at your frustration.

“I don’t believe you’ve earned the right to do that yet.” He leans down to give you one last swipe of your tongue before sitting up.

The tears fall in earnest now, your need for release clouding your mind. “N-no, please sir I’m – I’ve been a good girl! Please sir I- “You let out a wail when Iida slaps the inside of your thigh.

“Are you such a needy slut that you can’t even follow orders?” He slaps your other thigh and growls when you don’t answer. He adjusts his position until he is at your side, wrapping an arm around your torso to pinch at one of your nipples before running his whole palm down your aching cunt. “Do you like it when I punish you? Is that it?”

You finally calm down enough to shake your head. “N-no, I don’t like it s-sir.”  You are still crying, the tears running down your cheeks and wetting the pillow beneath you.

“I think your lying to me, because every time I hit you.” Iida lifts his hand up and slaps your clit, his fingertips rough from hero work. “You look like you enjoy it slut.”

You can’t help it when you feel the sharp pain on your clit you moan, the feeling slowly fading into pleasure.

“I told you, you like the pain, don’t you? My naughty little pain slut.” He hits your clit again twice in quick succession. “Do you want to be a good girl for me?”

You nod your head, tilting it to the side to rest on his shoulder. “Y-yes, I wanna be a good girl sir.”

He kisses your forehead. “If you can cum just from me slapping your clit then I’ll reward you with my cock yeah?”

“Yes sir!” You force your body to relax, knowing you’re your too tense the pain won’t give way to pleasure.

As Iida repeatedly slaps your clit you can’t help but utter a jumbled mess of words.

Yes sir…. thank you, sir, …. feels s’good…. m’close…please ..... harder ….

When you finally cum you back arches completely off the bed, your mouth open on a silent scream as tears pour down your face.

Iida lays there for a moment, watching as you come undone, he almost finishes right then and there. Before you can catch your breath, he is crawling on top of you and pushing your legs to your chest. He shoves two fingers in your hole scissoring them to open you up before he puts his cock in.

You only have enough energy to moan as he fingers you, your eyes shut from exhaustion instead of obedience.

Iida is intently watching his fingers move in and out of you, clearly you don’t have any control over your body anymore and yet your cunt still pulls his fingers in. When he pulls his fingers out, he shoves them in your mouth, without even a thought your sucking on them to clean them off.

“Good girl.” He lines himself up and thrusts into your cunt, balls deep in one go. No letting you adjust to his size he is now just after his own release.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish; he was already close to coming when he was slapping you. The sounds coming from your mouth and the tears streaming down your face, he will never get tired of it. Right as he is on the edge of cumming he feels your walls start to tighten again, he holds back just long enough so that your orgasm hits and you milk his cock for all its worth.

Iida stays like that for a moment holding your legs and enjoying the post orgasmic bliss until you let out a little whimper. He gently pulls himself out of your abused hole, wincing when he hears a small groan fall from your lips.

After he puts your legs down, he leans over and cups one of your cheeks and kisses your forehead. “You did such a good job my dear, I will be right back to clean you up.” Iida stays there until you give him a nod and gets off the bed without jostling you and heads into the bathroom. When he comes back, he has a warm washcloth and with a light touch he wipes the insides of your thighs and your slick folds.

You still haven’t said anything, but he knows you like the back of his hand and doesn’t push. “Let’s take a shower love, need to clean you up.” Iida takes your cuffs off and rubs your wrists you slowly open your eyes and focus on his face. He smiles down at you and kisses your nose. “I love you dearest.”

“And I you Tenya.”

#tenya lida #tenya iida x reader #tenya x y/n #iida x y/n #iida tenya #iida tenya x y/n #bnha x y/n #mha x y/n #tenya x reader #iida x reader #lilliths follower event #lilliths masterlist #lilliths 100 #lilliths 100 follower event #lillith masterlist #lillith writes #lilliths writing

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

You Better, You Better, You Bet - Chapter 8

She Makes Me

Ron Speirs x Juliet Fletcher

Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies​ @how-are-those-nuts-sarge​ @iilovemusic12us​ @hesbuckcompton-baby​ @tvserie-s-world​ @whovian45810​ @50svibes​ @cagzzz107​​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this update!

Warning(s): None :)

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7

AO3 link

Chapter 8 let’s go!!!

LONDON HEIR WEDS UP AND COMING LADY

Arthur William Burns, 33, of London has married Miss Elaine Spencer, 20, of Birmingham. The couple celebrated their union on February 14, 1944 at the chapel on his uncle Edward’s estate in Suffolk. The intimate ceremony was followed by a small reception of the couple’s closest friends and family. The new Mrs. Burns was thoughtful about her war-time wedding, taking extra steps to avoid unnecessary costs or supplies. She updated her mother’s wedding dress instead of buying new, and after the wedding, generously donated the gown to the Army. Her engagement ring was an heirloom of Mr. Burns’ family, but it didn’t stop there - 

The article didn’t stop there, but Juliet did. She couldn’t read another word about Arthur’s wedding. In fact, she slammed the paper down on her desk. It rattled the teacup in its saucer to the side, but miraculously, nothing spilled. Huffing, and her article forgotten, Juliet folded her arms across her chest and stewed. 

She couldn’t really say why it bothered her so much. She had moved on the same as him, but getting married? It hadn’t been that long. What could Arthur possibly know about this girl? For a girl she was at the tender age of twenty. Was that what irked her? That the girl was so young? No, it was fairly normal for an age gap like that, especially among their class. 

Perhaps it was the class issue that was grating on her. Elaine Spencer was - to the Burns family - everything Juliet was not. Young, rich, well-behaved, and (though only Arthur knew this difference) able to bear children. Seeing their announcement, and the kind of wedding they could afford, was a rather harsh reminder of all that. But even that should not have been this upsetting. 

Deep down, Juliet knew what was bothering her was that she was bothered at all. She was happy with Ron. So why did she care about her ex? Why did this feel like such a blow to her pride? Why did she feel as if Arthur had just terminated their engagement all over again? Wasn’t it enough to have Ron in her life, a man she truly respected and cared about? 

That was something else to consider. Juliet realized she had wasted far too much time on someone who wasn’t half the man Ron was. And yet, Arthur had rejected her. If what she thought about him was true - that he was a coward and totally undeserving of her - shouldn’t it have been the other way around? She knew she felt shame for how much she had loved Arthur when she didn’t receive that love in return. Was that what got on her nerves about this? 

She certainly was not jealous of the girl. Elaine. Juliet knew she absolutely did not want to be married to Arthur. In the long run, they could never make each other happy. Especially now that Juliet had experienced Ron, who truly appreciated what she had to give. She had to keep reminding herself of him or Arthur’s dumb face next to Elaine’s stunning smile would drive her crazy. And yet, she couldn’t stop looking at that picture. They looked so perfect. 

Her door opened and she jumped a little bit out of her seat with a gasp. It was Ron, but that oddly made her more nervous. She perked up. 

“Hi, honey!” she greeted brightly. 

His brown knit together over his eyes. “Honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” she returned. 

“Seriously,” he frowned. “Why are you calling me that?” 

“I haven’t before?” 

“Obviously not.” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“Obviously not,” he repeated. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing!” she insisted. Then it was her turn to frown. “What endearments am I allowed?” 

“Why do you need them, when my name works just fine?” he replied. 

“Oh come on,” she said. “Not even darling?” 

“Darling is meaningless here, you people call everyone darling,” he said. 

She considered that. “Alright. ‘Love’, then?”

“No, thanks.” 

“Baby?” 

“No.” 

“Dear?” 

“No.” 

“Sugar?”

“No.” 

“Sweetheart?” 

“No.” 

She bit back a giggle for the last one. “Daddy?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“My heart belongs to Daddy,” she began to sing as she got to her feet and approached him. “So I simply couldn’t be bad -”

“That’s a little bit sick, coming from you,” he cut across her as he shrugged off his jacket.

She ignored him. “Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy! Da da da da -” 

This time, he interrupted with a kiss. Juliet giggled into his mouth, but he was successful in stopping the song entirely. When they parted, she had a goofy grin on her lips. 

“Are you absolutely certain we should disregard the genius of Cole Porter?” she teased. 

“Let it go,” he returned. 

“What are you gonna do?” she challenged, making her voice dramatically husky. “Spank me?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

She blinked, taken aback by his casual reaction to such a suggestion, but she was also a little curious, so she decided to push the envelope. “You wouldn’t.”

“What’s the matter?” he questioned. “Afraid you’ll like it?” 

Her mouth fell slightly agape. How had he managed to so drastically turn the tables on her? She was supposed to be teasing him and somehow, she ended up being the one flustered and red-faced. She cleared her throat and shook her head to remove the rather graphic images that had popped up inside it. All thoughts of Arthur were certainly out the window. 

“I did not anticipate this backfiring,” she admitted. 

“And yet, here you are,” he said. 

“How tired are you from training?” she asked. 

“Not too tired to make love to you, if that’s what you’re asking,” he answered. 

“That’s the perfect amount,” she said. 

With that, she tugged off her cardigan and pulled him in for another kiss, deep and deliberate, with a nip at his bottom lip to get him riled up. He lifted her into his arms and they fell on the bed together - her pinned beneath him as their lips remained locked. 

Afterwards, as they dressed to get some dinner and Juliet was in the bathroom fixing her hair, Ron spotted the article. Suddenly, her behavior when he first walked in made sense. She’d distracted him with the endearments conversation, and he hoped he had distracted her from what she’d read. But his gut told him there was something more. He’d walked through that door every day without surprising her. There was a reason she had started and panicked this time. He picked up the newspaper, and looked hard at the photo - at the man who had humiliated Juliet, but ultimately paved the way for Ron’s own happiness with her. 

Arthur was not much to look at, which was both surprising and expected. Surprising because well, Ron found Juliet to be very beautiful, and he knew she could do better. Expected because Juliet was not the sort of person to base a relationship on looks alone. Although she had certainly noticed Ron’s. But for the first time, that made him doubt. She told him once she was more upset by the indignity of what Arthur had done, but she must have really seen something in him to have agreed to marry him. And she talked so much about Ron’s looks, he started to wonder if that was all she saw in him. 

He quickly dismissed that thought. She had been incredibly vulnerable with him and shared parts of her life he was certain she had shared with few others, perhaps not anyone. But something was holding her back from addressing this with him, and he wanted to know what. 

“I reckon we can just pop downstairs and have something quick,” she said as she emerged from the bathroom and picked up her cardigan. “That way we won’t get too cold before we - y’know - warm back up again.” 

He faced her, and caught the surprised look in her eye at his expression. Her smile drooped and faded as she realized what he held in his hand. 

“Jules,” he said, voice heavy. “I want you to do something for me.” 

“Sure,” she looked nervously between the paper and his face. “Anything, Ron, just -” 

“Without one fucking joke, I want you tell me why you’re upset about this,” he said, indicating the paper, though she understood perfectly well what he meant. 

She sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” 

“Yes,” he said. 

She waited for him to explain, but he didn’t. But he was not sacrificing his control of the conversation, he was solidifying it. She was going to explain herself to him. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m annoyed at myself for letting it upset me at all,” she said. She met his gaze, searching his face for a reaction, but he didn’t give one. “I mean, yes, it’s a wound to my ego that by all rights that announcement should be about me and him. Although, I never would have gotten married on Valentine’s Day. Seriously, of all the cheesy -” 

“No jokes,” he cut across her. 

“That wasn’t a joke, it was a disparaging remark,” she returned. 

“Juliet.” 

“Sorry.” 

She bit her lip, carefully forming how she wanted to say what was on her mind. But, it turned out he wasn’t giving her that either. 

“Don’t think, just talk,” he instructed. 

“I care about you so much,” she blurted out. “You make me happy in a way I hardly thought possible until I knew you. But seeing that announcement made me ache. It’s difficult to pin down why exactly since there are a number of things that bother me about it, but mostly it’s that it shouldn’t matter. I’ve moved on, haven’t I? But if that still hurts me, I’m worried that perhaps I haven’t, and that’s not fair to you or to me. And if that’s the case then perhaps I should let you go, but the thought of that makes me want to hurl myself out of a window. Then that makes me worried that no one will ever be enough for me. Which is ridiculous because you’re more than enough. You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met in your own weird way. So, that means there’s something terribly, terribly wrong with me.” 

She stopped to take a deep breath and paused. She considered saying more, that was really the sum of her feelings. Ron stood there calmly. 

“Can you talk now please?” she requested. 

A hint of smirk tugged at one side of his mouth, but he stopped it. 

“It’d bother me more if you didn’t care about this,” he replied, which made her brow wrinkle. “It’s okay to have feelings about someone you were involved with. Doesn’t mean you still have feelings for them.” 

“You don’t think it’s a reflection of my feelings for you?” she asked hesitantly. 

“No,” he said with a shrug. 

She bit her lip. “I just...I just don’t think it would get to him if he saw my wedding announcement in the paper.”

“It would,” he replied. 

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t know that, you didn’t know him.” 

“I know you,” he said. “That’s enough to understand that there’s no way you didn’t have an impact on him.” 

“That’s -” she began to argue but stopped herself as she absorbed it fully. “Well...that’s actually a lovely thing to say, thank you.” 

He set the paper down and walked over to her, gathering her up in his arms so he could kiss her forehead. 

“Don’t hide behind distractions when there’s something serious,” he said gently. “And don’t hurl yourself out a window, I had enough trouble with you on the bridge.” 

She looked up at him and smiled. “You’ve lifted your moratorium on jokes, I see.”

He pecked her on the lips. “Nope, just for me.”

She repaid him with a light jab to his ribs with her pointer and middle fingers. “Shut up.” 

On that note, they headed down to the bar for dinner and drinks. Though Juliet had mentioned wanting to return to her room quickly, they ended up lingering. Talking like they had when they first met. Juliet talked a little more about Arthur, and Ron gave her the space to do so. It didn’t last long. Slowly, he faded from the conversation and they moved on. Ron challenged her to a darts game, and Juliet readily accepted. 

“I’ve never played before,” she confessed. “Well, actually, I almost did when I was seven or so. Dad took Billy and I to the pub with him and left us to our own devices.” 

“I don’t like where this is going,” Ron said. 

She pressed on anyway. “We weren’t tall enough to reach the board, so Billy drew one on the wall we could use. The owner got upset and started shouting at him.” 

“I really don’t like where this is going,” he said again. 

“So, I stabbed him in the thigh with the dart,” she finished. 

“Billy?” 

“The pub guy.” 

“Just checking.” 

“Anyway, he starts screaming -”

“Billy?” 

“Nope, still the pub guy,” she said. “He grabs me by my hair and starts dragging me out. That didn’t sit right with Billy, so he leaps onto the man’s back and starts punching him. Mind you, Billy was only about nine at the time, so he wasn’t the most effective.” 

“I imagine not.” 

“But of course Billy doesn’t care, he’s just looking out for me,” she continued. “So the guy lets go of me, and I grab him round the legs and trip him. Then Billy and I ran out of there as fast as we could, terrified about what Dad would do to us if he realized we’d caused the commotion. Luckily, he never found out.” 

He blinked at her. “Honestly, I’m just impressed you stabbed a guy.” 

“He yelled at my brother!” she returned. “What was I supposed to do?” 

“Stab him, of course,” he said. 

“That!” she cried. “Right there! That’s why we work so well together!” 

She giggled into his mouth as he kissed her in agreement. 

“C’mon, let’s play,” he said. 

He showed her where to stand, how to hold the dart, and some tricks he used to get better aim. She was attentive to his coaching, and it certainly paid off. Each throw got her closer and closer to the bullseye. So much so, he considered tripping her on her last turn. He didn’t, since that would put her dart in rather close proximity to his thigh, and he was in no mood to get stabbed himself. 

She took her shot, and to the surprise of Ron and a few onlookers, she hit the center of the dartboard. She punched the air with excitement and let out an enthusiastic scream before turning to face him, beaming with triumph. 

“That’s right!” she bragged to anyone listening. “Juliet Fletcher is the darts champion!” 

For a moment, Ron genuinely feared she was going to try and chest bump him, and he wasn’t sure there could be romance after that. To his relief, she did not. She did something far more embarrassing. In movements that could only be described as lost and awkward, she...danced. If one could even call it that. Her limbs jerked, her hips lacked any semblance of rhythm, and her feet sort of scraped across the floor. He watched in disbelief as she went about her celebration, completely unabashed. 

“What’s the matter, Speirs?” she taunted. “Upset you lost to a girl?” 

He wanted to laugh, but he was so disturbed it came out more of a grimace. “What...what are you doing?” 

“Victory dance,” she returned simply. “Like footballers do.” 

“No one has ever done anything like what you’re doing,” he said. 

She came to a slow stop, a smirk on her face. “I told you I can’t dance.” 

“I thought you meant the foxtrot.” 

“Well, I can’t do that either.” 

“I’d expect not.” 

“Are you embarrassed?” she wondered. 

“Aren’t you?” he shot back, though judging by her expression, she wasn’t. 

“Nope,” she shook her head. 

“Should be,” he said under his breath. 

She ignored that little remark. “Life’s too short to stifle the joy of kicking your boyfriend’s ass in a game of darts.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly call that an ass kicking.” 

“You wanna go again?” she dared him. 

“God, no,” he replied quickly. “If you win, you’ll start dancing again.” 

“So you admit it?” 

“What?” 

“You’re afraid I’ll win.” 

“Yeah, but not for the reason you want.” 

“Whatever,” she giggled. “I’m gonna get another drink, d’you want one?” 

“Sure,” he said. 

With a nod, she headed for the bar. She established fairly early on in their relationship that she was not the sort who wanted to be doted on. She had no problem sharing the responsibility of buying drinks or fetching said drinks. Ron rarely even pulled out her chair for her. Opening doors was different, as Juliet usually had a bag or something, but she never so much as suggested that Ron carry it for her. He once offered, but she told him she’d only allow it if she could tip him, which promptly ended the conversation. 

“Hi, Juliet,” Emily, the bartender, said as she approached. “‘Nother round of whiskeys for you and Lieutenant Speirs?” 

“Yes, please,” Juliet replied. 

“Just a moment, I’ve got to bring some beers to the lads back there,” Emily said, pointing to the other end of the pub. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Juliet assured her. 

While she waited for Emily, a man approached the bar. A dark haired, tall, but mousy looking man Juliet had seen at the Blue Boar only a handful of times. He was usually alone and stayed for only one drink before leaving. She got the impression he was not solitary by choice - he was clearly unpopular. The other officers always gave the table a wide berth. 

“Hi,” he said timidly. 

It took her a moment to register he was speaking to her. “Oh! Hello, there.” She stole a glance at his rank and then his name. Sobel. She decided against trying to say it to avoid the risk of mispronouncing. Plus, she didn’t want him to think she was interested. 

“My name’s Herbert,” he said. “Herbert Sobel.” 

She studied his face for a moment. “Herbert, huh?” 

He blinked, surprised. “Um. Yes.” 

“Oh, yeah, Herbert absolutely suits you,” she said. 

He was taken aback again. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Never mind,” she shook her head. “How can I help you, Herbert?” 

“You could start with your name,” he replied. 

She wrinkled her nose. “Eh. No, thanks.” 

“What?” 

“I’d rather not give you my name,” she said. “Because I’m afraid the follow up is going to be your asking for my phone number or offering to buy me a drink. So I reckon we’re better off if I get the ‘no’ out of the way now. Save us all some time.” 

He sputtered for a moment before she went on. 

“I know this must seem like contempt prior to investigation,” she said. “But even if I wanted to - which I don’t, mind you - I am involved with someone.” 

“Wha - who?” he wondered. 

“Lieutenant Speirs,” she said, and pointed him out for good measure. 

Sobel glanced over just as Emily returned and began pouring the whiskeys. 

“Well, isn’t Speirs lucky,” Sobel murmured. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Juliet said, taking their drinks. “I really am a horrid bitch, you wouldn’t like me anyway.” She held back a laugh as his eyes went wide. Emily covered her mouth to stifle her own giggle. “Cheers, Herb. And thanks, Emily.” 

Emily asked a stricken Sobel what he wanted to drink while Juliet left. She returned to her seat next to Ron and delivered his whiskey. He wore a deep frown which told her he’d been watching her interaction with Sobel. 

“What’d Captain Sobel want?” he asked, just a hint of bitterness to his voice. 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I shot him down,” she replied. 

“He hit on you?” he questioned, but his shoulders relaxed a little. “Must not have seen you dance.” 

“Shut up!” she laughed, elbowing him. 

He didn’t say anything in return, he only put his hand on her thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Something about it thrilled Juliet. It was...intensely macho. Possessive even. Normally things like that disgusted her, but Ron made it sexy. Only, she had to question it. 

“Are you serious?” she said. 

“About what?” he returned. 

“You’re not bothered by my talking about my ex-fiancé, but a strange man offering to buy me a drink has you marking your territory?” she asked. 

“I can’t help who you were with before we met,” he said. “I can do something about anyone getting ideas now.” 

“What would you have done then?” she questioned playfully. 

“Stab him with a dart,” he replied, without missing a beat. 

She giggled before she sipped her drink. “You’re ridiculous.” 

She wasn’t able to remain in Ron’s grasp long. Emily approached and told her there was a phone call for her. Juliet excused herself, but not before kissing Ron deeply. 

“So the other girls don’t get any ideas either,” she teased. 

“Fine by me,” he said. 

With one more peck, she followed Emily behind the bar. She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. 

“Juliet Fletcher,” she said. 

“Juliet, it’s Otis,” said the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Oh, hello, Otis, how are you?” she replied politely. She got along with the investigator most out of all the people involved in Peggy Lee’s case. 

“Quite well, thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but I’ve just gotten the news that Meredith Fisher’s trial has been moved up. We begin on the fifteenth of March.” 

“Crikey, that’s quick,” Juliet said. 

“I know, but the prosecution is confident enough,” he told her. 

Juliet was tempted to let him know they were absolutely right in their confidence with the way Meredith Fisher’s lawyer was going about things, but she held her tongue. 

“That’s good,” she said. “I’ll be sure I’m there for the trial.” 

“I’ll see you then,” he returned. “Good night, Juliet.” 

“Good night,” she replied before hanging up. 

She returned to Ron, who shot her a curious look. 

“A trial date has been set for Meredith Fisher,” she said. “In just a couple weeks.” 

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

“Damn right I am,” she said. 

“That’s my girl.”

#band of brothers #ron speirs #juliet fletcher #roliet #hbo war #ron speirs x ofc #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war fanfiction #you better you better you bet series

[chxrrysangel]

The Accident

Part Four | Masterlist | Part Six

Summary || Per request of Nat and the contract, Diana goes to Bucky’s first football game of the season. However, there’s no smooth sailing in the storm that’s about to come.

Relationship || fakeboyfriend!Bucky x black!ofc

Warnings || language, angst, mention of violence/threats, pet names [angel, baby, darling, etc.]

Word Count || 2,208 words

October

“Boo!” At the sound of someone’s voice in my ear, I shriek and drop my books on the ground.

“Jesus Christ Nat! What the fuck? You know I’m jumpy!” She laughs at my reaction, not bothering to apologize.

“I know, that’s why I do it.”

“You’re a menace you know that?” I pick up my textbooks, annoyed with my terrorist of a friend.

“And you love me anyways. Actually, speaking of menace…uh Bucky? You two are quite the pair.”

“Yeah, I uh... I guess we are.” I add a smile, hoping that my lack of reaction doesn’t raise any suspicions.

“So, how did that happen?” We begin to walk down the sidewalk, making our way to the science hall.

“I don’t know, it kind of just did. I mean we were friends before, so it’s not like dating a stranger or anything.”

Nat looks at me with a lost look on her face, before her memory decides to actually be useful.

“Right! You tutored him last year, didn’t you?”

“Yup. Spring semester.”

"So, are you going to the game on Friday?"

"Uh uh. Absolutely not. I barely understand football on screen, let alone in person. Besides, what reason would I have to go?," I respond with a laugh.

Nat stops in her tracks at my words, giving me a look that suggests murder. I feel like I should be scared now.

" I know you didn't just say you're not going. You couldn't have."

"'But I did?"

"Di, do you realize how completely moronic and embarrassing it is for the girlfriend of the Quarterback to be m.i.a from the first game of the season?"

Oh right, I forgot about that. When she puts it that way...

"Shit. I forgot about that. You do make a good point."

"Of course I do, I always do. So you're coming?" The way she looks at me, like an excited child on Christmas morning, forces me to say yes.

"Yes! Oh you're gonna love it! The games--"

"Natasha!" The two of us flick our heads in the direction of the voice, seeing Steve jog between the small crowd of students towards us.

Fantastic.

"What's up beautiful?" Steve kisses Nat's forehead and wraps his arm around her, wedging himself between us. Like I'm not even there.

"Nat, I'll see you later. I've gotta get to psych in like 10 minutes and the building is massive. Bye, gotta go."

I don't really give her the opportunity to say anything before I make my exit. I'm not really in the mood to speak with Steve right now. Ever since Bucky and I started "dating", he’s been a complete dick. I’m starting to question what I ever saw in him. I make my way towards the campus Starbucks, deciding to get some breakfast for once. Nat doesn’t need to know my psych professor cancelled class for the rest of the week. Apparently she has the flu. Lucky me I guess.

~~~~

While Nat is talking my ear off about Steve, I notice a certain someone making their way up the stairs towards us. My mood gets instantly lifted, happy to avoid this draining lovesick conversation.

“Hey James, what’s up?”

He looks nervous. Why is he nervous?

“Hey angel, do you mind uh…can you braid my hair for me real quick?”

He stands in front of us like a sad puppy, and it’s completely adorable. How could I possibly say no? I direct him to sit on the concrete steps so we’re closer together, thankful for the wide distance between the bleacher sets. That way, I don’t have to apologize every time someone needs to walk past. Nat excuses herself, something about wanting to get snacks.

“So, Barnes. How you feeling?”

I begin to part his hair down the middle, and he reaches his arm back to pass me the scrunchies on his wrist. Let’s just hope he’s not tender headed, otherwise this might take longer than I think.

“Uh, a little nervous not gonna lie. But, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“How’s Nat?”

“She’s good. Still talking my ear off about Steve every minute of her life, but good.” I notice his fist tighten when I mention Steve’s name. Right, they don’t get along.

“Speaking of that devil reincarnated, how’s Steve treating you? Still a dick?” The question sounds leading, like he knows what answer I’m going to give.

“Uh, don’t even get me started. Being a dick doesn’t even cover it.” My eyes roll just thinking about it.

“I can fix him if you want. I’m not afraid to set him straight, just say the word.” I finish the second braid, tying up both ends. Then I go to sit next to him so we’re more of less eye level.

“James, no. Absolutely fucking not. I am not letting you get suspended from the team for kicking your teammate’s ass. It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens.” His jaw ticks at my rejection.

“And why not? He’s being a bully. I can’t let my girl get bullied, especially by a guy.”

My girl?

“Well your girl, fake or not, won’t let you out yourself in harmsway like that,” I whisper to him.

Bucky’s face turns to me fully, grabbing my cheeks so I have no opportunity to look away.

“My mom would kick my ass for letting any one of my girlfriends get bullied by a guy. It’s my moral obligation to fix this. So let me. Please?”

“James. Promise me you won’t do anything. I can handle it. And if I do need you, I won’t hesitate to ask. Okay?”

He looks at me hesitantly, eyes flickering back and forth between my features. After some deliberation, he nods and lets me go.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.”

Bucky pulls a folded up cloth out of his helmet, handing it to me shyly. A blush creeps up his cheeks as I unfold the layers, causing me to smile. He’s kind of cute when he’s nervous. I soon realize what it is and quickly unravel the rest to see the full thing on display. Holding it up, I marvel at the purple and white jersey, number 17 in big bold letters. I turn it around to see the name Barnes scripted at the top.

“You’re giving me your jersey?”

“Yeah. I have tons anyways. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my girlfriend come to my game without it? It’s very convincing.”

“Right.” I take the opportunity to peel off my puffer jacket, before sliding the large jersey over my long sleeve shirt. Bucky smiles while watching me, dimples making an appearance.

“You look good in my clothes, I think.”

“So does this mean I can steal some in the meantime?” His face takes on a fake-annoyed expression at my question.

“ Ha ha, very funny. Don’t get ahead of yourself Angel.”

“We’ll see, James. We’ll see. Now go, the games started and I’m not gonna hold you up.”

“Alright, alright. Yes ma’am. Just know when I wave at you from the field, wave back. Okay?”

“Okay, now go! Before I push you down the stairs!”

Bucky kisses my cheek before running down the concrete steps, diving through the crowd towards to locker rooms to put on his equipment. The game’s starting soon and the stadium is buzzing with activity. Eventually Nat comes back, holding nachos and soft drinks in hand.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, not much. I braided his hair and we just chatted about the game and stuff.” Nat nods, diving into her nachos while we wait.

“Oh look! There’s Steve. And he’s waving at us!”

Nat directs my attention to the field, the starters making their way to the 50 yard line. Steve waves at us—well Nat if I’m honest—and I meekly wave down at him. However my attention is soon diverted by a certain blue-eyed goofball barreling down the grass towards the edge of the gate. Bucky waves like an excited toddler, before throwing a kiss at me. Indulging in his stupidity, I catch it and he beams. We could be great actors if I do say so myself. He waves goodbye before running towards the middle to discuss last minute plays.

~~~

I’m gonna be honest, football is not that entertaining. It’s even worse when you have no idea what’s actually going on. I feel like a fish out of water, watching Bucky and his team run around like tiny ants on the fake grass. Why does he like this again?

It’s just a little bit past half-time right now, and they’re at the 20 yard line. If they can get this play and score a touchdown, we’ll be that much closer to making sure the other team can’t win. It’ll be too late in the game by then to score enough points to come out victorious.

I barely pay attention to the other players, only watching Bucky with my undivided attention. Steve too, but to a lesser degree. He’s the only reason I’m here right now, and he’s quite entertaining to watch actually. I may not know what’s going on, but he loves it. So the least I could do is indulge in his interests, it’s in the contract anyways.

For some odd reason, Coach Williams calls a time-out halfway through the play. This almost never happens. I watch as the players begin to make their way to their respective sides. Steve throws the football across the field, likely towards one of the wide receivers. But then I quickly realize where this is going. My eyes flicker over to Bucky just as he takes off his helmet. Oh fucking hell.

“Bucky!”

I’m too late. The football hits Bucky square in the side of his head at lightning speed and his body collapses on the grass. I watch with horror as Steve runs frantically across the field like he made a mistake. Time moves almost in slow motion as I jump out my seat, taking the stairs two at a time. I nearly fall on my face several times, the concrete steps too wide for the speed at which I’m running. It’s gonna take at least five minutes to make to the field from where we are, so I move as fast as my legs could possibly carry me.

The security guards at the edge try to stop me but I merely push my way around, not caring that they’re yelling at me about trespassing. I genuinely could not give less of a fuck right now. I run across the grass field, tears in my eyes and fear coursing through my veins. Please let him be okay. Please.

I shove my way through the crowd of giant football players, again not caring if I’m being yelled at. Bucky lays in the middle on the ground, eyes closed and face flushed. Kneeling beside him, I brush the whispy strands out of his eyes.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” I whisper close to him, knowing what loud voices can do for a concussion.

“Bucky? Please, just answer. Say literally anything.” Again, he doesn’t respond, which causes my palms to sweat even more.

“James? Are you alright? I need to know if you’re okay.” His eyes flutter open, before shutting quickly due to the blinding lights of the stadium. Yeah, a concussion will do that to you.

“Diana? Angel? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“My head hurts.” I laugh lightly at his remark, just relieved that he’s okay. Well, as okay as you can be when you have a major concussion.

“I know baby. But we gotta get you to the nurse, okay? Now can you stand up for me please?”

Bucky makes a weak attempt at standing before another pair of hands come to help him up. By the bracelet on their wrist, I can already tell it’s Thor. Coach Williams says something about taking it slow to the nurse, but I’m barely listening. All that matter right now is Bucky. Then as soon as we found out he’ll be okay, I’m gonna kick Steve’s ass. I might even break his spine while we’re at it. If there’s anything I know about Steve, it’s that his aim is quite literally perfect. That was no fucking accident.

#fakeboyfriend!bucky #fake relationship #bucky fanfic #angst #romanogers #natasha romanov #marvel au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!ofc #bucky barnes x original female character #steve rogers x original female character #black!oc #bucky x reader

[tintentrinkerin]

Cathartic Arrest

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Characters: Michael (Supernatural), Minor Characters

Additional Tags: Post-Hell Dean Winchester, Post-Lucifer’s Cage Sam Winchester, Dubious Consent, Caning, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), It’s all about inflicting and receiving punishment, Jealousy

Summary: ”Sam needs to cope with memories of Lucifer’s abuse. Dean is still trying to cope with this time as torture Master in Hell.

And he’s JEALOUS.”

Word Count 1,793

READ HERE OR ON AO3

Sam was still shaking when he got back to the bunker. He had taken his time before he came back home, but still. This time, it had all been different. She had to help him back into his pants, his shirt, even tuck his shirt in, help him ground himself; when he still didn’t come down from what just happened, she made him sit in her “calm room” as she called it. 

She gave him food, good food. Fruits. Pineapple, strawberries, vanilla infused yoghurt. Juices of passion fruit and apples, bread with butter and some lean chicken tenders. He could choose whatever music he wanted, but all he ever would choose was hard rock – the music of his childhood, part of his youth and part of Dean. The music in his ears, usually is of a different, much more intense nature. He’d tried pop. One Direction. Too happy. He’d tried Nu Metal. He was too old to bounce back into his emo stage, also known as his years at Stanford. He had tried all kinds of metal. Trash, Death, Melodic, Symphonic. Nightwish. Later Aesthetic Perfection. All good music, quality wise. But nothing was ever louder than the noises in his head. The crying of baby Sam Winchester, inner-child Sam Winchester. Traumatized and angry and helpless. 

Only the noise of a cane meeting his skin, his ass, his legs, even his feet, his own painful cries, the muffled grunts, the thank you’s and the yes'es, the reenactment of his shame, would silence the child. It’d been rough today. The wax on his chest left pink swollen spots, the cane beat him bloody this time.

“I can stop, aye?” she said. 

“No, Mistress. Don’t. I want it to bleed.”

She’s not his Domme and he’s not her slave. He isn’t that twisted in his mind to reenact the power exchange, his own powerlessness. Michael watching. Michael. That god forsaken coward.

Sam was still shaking when he started Baby’s engine, slowly rolling away from the place he visits when pressing on his scar stops working. And it’s been working less and less and less. Until nothing else will help but being beaten up by someone to finally overcome the pain, the helplessness, the feeling of being weak and useless. Sam Winchester might be broken, but he still can take a beating without crying.

Dean hates liars. Which is kind of, let’s say  hypocritical, given his nature, his past. He lied to Sam about hell, he lied about the deal, he constantly lies to the only person who will probably never leave him. Because even if Sam does leave, he always comes back. He won’t even die for good. Dean doesn’t, Sam doesn’t. They’re here, two moons in this earth’s gravitational pull, doomed to circle each other; the forces of nature keeping them in place but always keeping them apart. 

It's one of those days when Sam says he’s about to go jogging, but since when does he have to drive fifty miles to some secluded forest area to jog when they're in the literal middle of nowhere? Dean has seen Sam in the showers. They have their privacy here, both want that or pretend to, but the showers are group showers, long lines of shower heads like in school gyms. They usually lock the doors, so why, this one time, does Sam not lock himself up like he used to? Dean knows about the nightmares, the triggers, the sudden flashbacks and the pressing of Sam’s thumb against the palm of his cut hand. He noticed cuts, deep cuts around Sam’s wrists, that never heal because he keeps on scratching off the scab. The bleeding never stops. 

Dean decides that today, enough is enough. He knows this trauma, he was in Hell too. He tortured innocent people, he tortured Bela fucking Talbot. A woman he really respected in the end, though he sugar coated it with cunt-y behaviour. He’s seen so many faces twisted in pain and agony – and all they do in the end? – cry for mama. They cry for their fucking mother, and Sam? Dean wonders who he cried for in the Cage?

Sam is packed up in his “jogging outfit” and he’s about to leave, when Dean gets up from his armchair in the library.

“Where ya goin’, Sammy?”

He jumps.

“Jesus, don’t scare me, man. Really? I’m going jogging.”

“There’s a whole ass forest in front of the batcave, Sam. Why not go there?”

Sam looks down and Dean knows, he’s angry. He’s angry because Dean caught him in his damn lie and there’s no good way out of it.

“I have a jogging buddy over there,” Sam clears his throat, his whole body is tense. Ready to run. Wherever.

“Ah, jogging buddy, I see. Lemme guess, their name is Mistress Lana and he looks bomb in tracksuits.”

Sam is about to erupt and he grows, his posture straightens and he yells. “This is private Dean, you have no, absolutely NO right to spy after me like a--”

“Like a what?”

“Like a fucking jealous wife who caught me in an affair?”

Dean falls silent, but his body, pure, condensed power, anger, fear, slams his arm against Sam’s throat and presses him to the wall. 

“It is exactly like that. You drive an hour to see a dominatrix, to what? You become a subby bootlicker all of a sudden? You like that?”

Sam’s nostrils flare and damn, now Dean is on freakin’ thin ice. He is so goddamn jealous of this woman giving Sam something that Dean would give him freely. And happily. He would give him the relief he needs. 

“Don’t talk like that!” Sam hisses, trying to wind himself out of Dean’s grip but he’s still sore from the last time Lana tied him up like a Christmas present and hung him on the wall like a pig-half at the butcher’s. Sam loved the marks of the rough rope, loved the feeling of just hanging there, floating, the ground beneath him so far away, the rock bottom so far…“You have no idea how I feel!”

Dean’s head tilts to the side. “I tortured people in Hell, Sam. I know how to make you feel the worst pain of your life – but I can also give you the greatest relief. I can show you mercy, because that’s what you really want. Isn’t it?”

Sam finally breaks free and attacks Dean, one hit after another, breaks Dean’s nose, gives him a black eye, and it only stops when Dean lands a blow right over Sam’s kidney – he staggers back. 

“I deserve the pain,” Sam wheezes. “I don’t rely on anyone’s mercy.”

Dean drags him up and brings Sam, who is suddenly so pliant, to his room. What no one has ever known about is the secret door. Dean’s not a witch, Sam would be a great one, but Dean managed to hide a tiny little torture chamber behind his room. Sam fights,  he insults Dean. Dean knows, yes he knows, it’s Sam’s way of provoking him and, kind of, making Dean stop. 

Sam knows that, when he came back from Hell, Dean fucked around even more than before he’d died –but no one ever saw him with the girls, the submissive ones, the broken little dolls he found. This is Deam’s coping. Reenacting Hell.

Sam clings on to Dean when he’s tied to the bench, naked. Sam is still black and blue, some of his bruises had turned green-yellowish already but no one should hurt him there again. These bruises would take ages to heal, if they’re lucky, without a doctor needed. Sam isn’t fighting anymore, he’s crying.

“Please Dean, take it off of me. Please… I can’t… Take it OFF!”

“I can’t”, Dean says, gently, brushing away Sam’s tears.“Does she fuck you?”

A gasp. “What? Why--?”

“Simple question, Sammy. Does. She. Fuck you?”

Sam nods, hiding his face in his hair and pressing his forehead against the padding.

“I can’t spank you in this condition. You have to heal. Why would you go to that woman when you’re still so roughed up?”

“Why do you care?”Sam’s voice is so thin. Little, scared Sammy, and there was no one in the Cage to save him from what happened. 

“Sammy.” Is all Dean says.

“My Sammy.”

Dean is not like that. He loves Sammy, and he would do a lot, but he won’t do That.

Dean’s favorite is his cane. Rattan. Unpeeled. Sam endures several hard blows, in a staccato, a rhythm other people would faint from. But Sammy is strong, and he wants to be broken.

HE

WANTS

TO 

BE

BROKEN

And Dean is giving him that. He can think of the girls and boys in Hell while doing it, like he’s not the one inflicting this pain on Sam, but it feels so damn good. Purging. Sam’s cries and whimpers, his yells and finally, finally, when Dean is about to lose control and maul Sam alive – there’s the one Sammy would cry for.

“Dean.”

A gasp. The blows stop. Blood dripping down Sam’s legs. 

“Dean.”

Again.

“Sammy..”

So gentle. So tender. So silent. 

“Dean, I want to go home….” and that is truly when Sam is broken, the last bastion of his mind, his pride, his goddamn pride is stripped from him. He babbles, he cries, snot and tears and gulps, he even chokes on his cries. “I want to be home with Dean, please hold me, Dean, take me home, Dean…”

Dean dissolves. His own trauma resolves for a minute. He knows, it will never fully go away, he will never heal. But.

“Sammy. I’m here, Sammy. Come here. I’ll take you home, my baby brother. I’m here.”

“Dean, I love you”, Sam chokes out. It could be anything. It could be nothing.

“Sammy, I love you more.”

Dean leans onto Sam’s heaving, still tied up body, sweat and blood, tears, the sobs. When Dean releases Sam from the restraints and carries him to a sofa, he huddles up in Dean's lap. Like a newborn. Overwhelmed with the world outside, sobbing and crying for Dean. Dean is here, holding him tight. Offering him water and more blankets.

Lucifer has never been closer, but Dean has blown him away from Sam. He made Sam just forget for a while. It’s so fucked up, but he can live with fucked up. As long as it’s with Sam and Sam never, fucking never, goes to a whore again when he can have everything from Dean.

Dean will do anything for Sam. 

“Dean…”

“I’m here. You’re home.”

»And I will never let you go.«

@laxe-chester67 @deanking @vulgar-library @writethelifeyouwant @itsabookishblog @schaefchenherde @sacrificialtendencies @cloudesworld @all-4-wincest @ohnoitsthebat @rpsocsandcanonohmy @stemroses @nightmarecait @lostmykiliel @alexa-alcantara @wincestismyheart @closetedshippers @dragonardhill @alex-is-a-gay-human

IF YOU WANT TO BE INCLUDED IN MY MAILING LISTS, SHOOT ME A MESSAGE <3

#wincest #sam and dean #hell trauma #cage trauma #sin is sinning

[alygatorwrites]

Hey baby! This match up event is such a fun idea, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy 🥰

Also sorry for the long answers I just wanted to make it as easy as possible (and not because I want YOU to marry me 😤)

my name is sage

my pronouns or she / her

my sexuality is straight

my sign is cancer

my love language is quality time and acts of service

I love it when my partner goes out of their way to do something special for us, and I much prefer experience gifts rather than material gifts, like a weekend away or taking me to a restaurant or surprising me with a dinner or going for a walk together (pls I sound like a dog)

my hobbies and interests

I love animals with a passion and you will find me volunteering any chance I get! I’m a big fan of travelling and I would do it everyday if I could, my favourite places to go are Italy, greece and Australia. I’m also in love with Switzerland! But yeah anything beachy and woodsy is where my happy place is. I also love to journal about the places I have been, and collecting little souvenirs on the way. I’m like a magpie it’s crazy how much stuff I have from my travels.

my personality

my mbti type is isfp and I’m more of an ambivert, I’m outgoing with friends and family but I’m a bit more reserved when it comes to people I haven’t met before and would prefer if they started the convo first. After that initial awkwardness (which I hate with a passion) I’m good at carrying a convo. Once you get to know me I’m more of an extrovert. Over text I’m the most extroverted person but in person, I’m a lil shy and reserved until I get to know you.

I’m also VERY clumsy, I never seem to finish my day without breaking something or waking up with a new bruise. There was one time I literally broke 3 plates and dropped 4 glasses all in one day…..and the amount of times I trip or fall up the stairs. I seriously need a warning sign around my neck. I’ve also been told I have a bit of a resting bitch face but I swear I’m nice :)

I’m known to my friends as the funny one of the group and very free spirited. I have never been in a relationship and I don’t feel I need to be in one right now. I’m not looking for anyone at the moment, and I wouldn’t go out of my way to find someone (ie dating apps). I’d rather find them along the way. As you could probably tell, I’m more on the independent side and as of right now, I’m just enjoying that.

physical description

It’ll be a lot easier is I just add a picrew for the physical description cause I finally found one that looks like me :)

And OF COURSE I want some nsfw headcanons!! You’re nsfw writing is what keeps me going BABYYY

I’m so excited to see who you pick for me mamas! *BIG FAT SMOOCHES* ilysm 💖

♡ 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐧

→ your caring and charitable persona is what draws jean in, along with the fact that you’re pretty as hell. while he can be blunt and stubborn, this man finds himself magnetized toward those who are lively and vivacious — this is you! add in your sense of humor and he is instantly fixated on establishing a relationship.

→ jean finds the lives of others valuable, and he likes how you feel the same, shown by how you enjoy volunteering. this would make you extremely compatible! because you're both dedicated members of society with strong moral compasses, a deep sense of understanding is easily formed.

→ an opinionated extrovert who speaks his mind, jean would take the initiative in social situations. when you're uncomfortable or too nervous to start a conversation with a stranger, he'll be right there to introduce you and get the ball rolling. this balance and support is helpful! honestly, jean thinks it’s super adorable how shy you can be. the way you can go from being extroverted over text to a bashful girl in person is amusing to him!

→ you and jean's personalities form a mutually beneficial relationship! your understanding nature breaks down jean's walls, while his resolve and committed character keeps you grounded. this bond would be unbreakable as it's forged through trust, responsibility, commitment, and affection.

→ your love language of quality time would be respected by jean, and he’d have no problem in giving his undivided attention. as a practical individual who knows that a tomorrow isn't promised, jean finds that each passing minute is irreplaceable. he values being there for his partner. not only that, but jean's love language is also acts of service. this gives him an understanding of how precious it is to show and not tell. he will do things for you such as cooking breakfast, folding your laundry, brushing your hair, taking you to the beach, and even planning over-sea vacations. a little embarrassed to show his emotions, jean takes this as an opportunity to wordlessly express his love.

→ jean has a soft spot for beauty! this is what made you catch his eye. he's definitely a sucker for your curls; the way they perfectly frame your face — the spirals a gorgeous sepia-brown, brushing along each cheek — would make him melt. your beauty marks? he pecks them with a tenderness that can't even be explained. they're too cute and charming.

→ he finds clumsiness sweet. that being said, sasha and connie already keep jean on his toes as it is, so he'd never admit it. despite that, he's always down to help collect the broken pieces of whatever you knock over ... which usually results in him grabbing a broom and saying he'll clean it up for you altogether (those shards of glass can't be trusted!) jean can still be an asshole though, and he snorts out a laugh whenever you fall up the stairs.

→ your love for animals and wildlife would change jean for the better. this man doesn't have an affinity for them until you come along: watching the way you light up around a cat or dog makes him vow that he'll give you all the pets you want.

♡ 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

→ the sharp inhales you make when jean fucks you has him bursting at the seams. hearing you moan when he holds tight onto your hips is his absolute favorite thing.

→ as mentioned before, jean loves hair, especially yours. his favorite thing is to tangle his hands in each lock — the brown swirls wrapping around his fingers — and gently tug them as he envelops your lips into a deep kiss.

→ reducing you to a quivering, breathless heap makes jean feel invincible. the power trip has his head swimming every time!!!

→ orally pleasuring you is a must for jean. he likes it even better than he enjoys getting off himself. the primal sensation of you gushing around his tongue can make him cum in seconds if he doesn't control himself.

→ this man has the worst corruption kink. jean will not hesitate to tarnish you until you go from a good little girl to a whore who thinks about nothing but his cock <3

→ really loud, moan-heavy sex makes jean weak at the knees. he adores every breathy whine you make, and relishes in the way your face screws up when he slides into you. he'll push strands of your hair away from your eyes, tucking them behind a ear and fiddling with your piercings.

→ jean can't get enough of the sexual tension before you both hook up. the second he sees your will-power break, and how you strip away your shirt... god, it's so sexy to him.

→ run your fingers through his mullet and jean is a goner 🥴

→ whenever jean carries you bridal style to the bedroom with a smug grin, be prepared for the best sex of your life.

→ 100% a dom. NO IFS, ANDS, OR BUTS.

→ "fuck, sage—" jean frequently whispers, lips brushing along your throat as he thrusts into you. the way your name tumbles from his mouth is always a broken groan. "feels so fucking good."

→ one of his favorite sex positions with you!

#sage i screamed when i saw you entered #im living for these long answers pls #thank you my love 😤💕💗👊 #KISS NOW #aly hits a milestone #jean kirstein #aot matchup