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januaryembrs · 2 months

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THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

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'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?”

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.

This never happened.

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.

He felt like a fool.

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”

He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.

She kissed him. She had kissed him.

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.

–

taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew grey gubler x reader

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katiexpunk · 2 months

Text

Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that.

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two.

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet.

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office.

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists.

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.”

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits.

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid.

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month.

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts.

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old.

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time.

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30.

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits.

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you.

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand.

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty.

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking.

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse.

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep.

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place.

"Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table.

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked.

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.”

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself.

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake.

He’s just another customer.

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy.

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible.

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it.

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back.

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face.

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it.

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it.

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night.

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it.

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented.

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell.

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright.

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you.

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer.

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it. Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot.

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You.

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore.

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip.

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello.

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is.

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know.

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that?

Jesus.

No.

He’s just a customer.

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything.

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back.

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan.

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet.

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever.

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone.

But you don’t call or text.

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager.

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type.

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock.

Fuck.

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except –

Somethings wrong.

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off.

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense.

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight.

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that.

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now.

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect.

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two.

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern.

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside.

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened.

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you.

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind.

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you.

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one.

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need.

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her.

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response.

Rip off the fucking bandaid man.

“Why didn’t you call?”

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things.

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him.

But no.

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his.

“Ki–”

Fuck it.

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more.

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral.

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal.

Fuck. Yes.

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more.

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs.

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots.

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body.

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now.

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby.

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you.

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you.

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More.

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you.

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line.

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away.

Please, he pleads to himself silently.

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan.

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale.

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you.

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing.

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole.

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core.

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him.

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again.

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more –

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height.

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste.

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now.

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now.

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life.

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him.

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare.

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind.

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time.

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him.

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless.

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep.

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second.

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him.

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you.

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it.

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up.

“Wanna smoke?”

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own.

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both.

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day.

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with.

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept.

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat.

He wants more.

And something tells him you do, too.

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #consent #joel miller #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller fanfic #Joel's POV

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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!

this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut

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Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️

Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk

Word count: 8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297

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The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days.

“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl.

Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice.

You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.

“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance.

“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.”

“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him.

“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.”

“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo.

“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen.

“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.

“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”

Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear.

“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”

“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”

“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply.

He tuts, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”

You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”

“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face.

“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”

“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight.

“Where are the rascals?” He asks.

“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.

Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello.

“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you.

Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la vez (one at a time).”

“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”

“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk.

“That’s what I said,” she huffs.

“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm.

“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”

“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”

“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”

“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time.

“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.”

She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago.

“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says.

“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat.

Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!”

“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?”

“She told me not to,” he admits shyly.

“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks.

“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”

“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”

“Fine,” his son grumbles.

When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time, chicos (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”

You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”

—

The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed.

“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”

He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day.

“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth.

“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips.

“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”

Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”

“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”

She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”

“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while she laughs and laughs.

“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too.

They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head.

“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender.

“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—”

“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later.

Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment.

“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”

“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”

“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”

Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?”

She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip.

She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”

“Can I?” She widens her eyes.

“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”

He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.

“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room.

Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”

“You’re silly, Papá,” she says.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”

Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.

He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.

However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family.

He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on.

—

He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console.

“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go?

“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”

“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder.

When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).”

“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to.

“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”

“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”

“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand.

“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.

“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”

“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.

“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.

“Really?” He whispers instead.

“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”

He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”

Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”

Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"

“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile.

“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”

“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.

Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”

“You said one more game!” He protests.

Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”

“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed.

“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”

“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up.

“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch.

“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off.

Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring.

“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass.

“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well.

His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon.

You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you.

“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically.

You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”

“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system.

Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it.

“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes.

“What?” He acts oblivious.

“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”

“Missed you too,” you sigh.

“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.”

“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”

Javier snorts, “But we always—“

“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress.

“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter.

“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass.

When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed.

“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together.

“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk.

“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet.

There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body.

“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”

“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest.

“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked.

“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”

You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already.

“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”

“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs.

“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along.

“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”

Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits.

“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command.

“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?”

You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”

“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”

You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth.

“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”

Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.

“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and.

You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief.

You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough.

“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”

“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.

“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue.

“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”

“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest.

You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved.

“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you.

Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back.

“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”

Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you.

“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”

It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable.

“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”

You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.

“Fuck,” you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.

A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again.

You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick.

“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it.

“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much.

“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”

You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.

“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”

Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.”

When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed.

When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit.

There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give. When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.

A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close.

“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”

He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”

“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily.

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words.

“I was thinking of something,” he finally says.

You sit up at that, “What?”

“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you.

You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”

“Are you serious?” You gape at him.

“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”

“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you.

He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness.

“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.

You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”

“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips.

He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”

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shuaflix · 10 months

Text

kim mingyu's (unhelpful) guide to losing your virginity (preview)

PAIRING ▸ kim mingyu x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, smut, humor, some angst, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, ft. hoshi, vernon, minghao, jungwoo, this sounds like pwp but i promise there’s plot???, the plot being mingyu’s back muscles, slowburn goes crazy tho it’s at 8k words and they haven’t kissed, anyways sexual content

SUMMARY ▸ after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didn't), you’re shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).

RELEASE DATE ▸ out now!

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hi i am deep in mingyu brain rot :') (24/7 actually but it's hitting even harder) so i hope u look forward to this one !! send an ask or comment to be added to the tag list <3

“STEP ONE,” HE STARTED. “We write down anything we wanna try, and then we approve or veto the options.”

You uncapped the marker and asked, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“No judgment?”

“No judgment.”

You started writing down whatever desires you had pushed down for years. Albeit short, you figured they covered all the bases. Weeks ago, you wouldn’t have dreamed of admitting any of them to Mingyu; now that your relationship with him took a turn, however, it wasn’t so hard to reveal them.

Next to you, Mingyu was shamelessly jotting sex positions down like he had them memorized. You peeked at his list out of the corner of your eye and nearly did a spit take. The first one on your list was kissing, but Mingyu had started off with anal.

Although he agreed to zero judgment, you were finding it hard to feel the same way.

Once you two were done, you stepped back to look at the whiteboard with its two complete lists side-by-side. Mingyu’s list was considerably longer than yours, but you stood by your own. You felt as though yours was more natural, more gradual.

Y/N

Kissing

Neck kissing

Touching

Penetrative sex

MINGYU

Anal

Cowgirl

Wall sex

Public sex

Phone sex

He snorted. “Kissing.”

“You said no judgment!”

“I thought it was cute, that’s all,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Anyway, anal?” You scoffed. “I don’t know if your list is exactly beginner level.”

“Well, that’ll just make you an expert by the end of this, won’t it?”

You couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up. “Okay, how about we start with my much more reasonable list, and then we can get to yours once we actually, um… do the deed.”

“You have seriously got to start just saying sex.”

#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #svt hard hours #seventeen hard hours #seventeen x reader

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fkinavocado · 1 month

Text

Daddy issues- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

extra / alternatively, read on wattpad

*timeline: somewhere after the main story

Piccolo amore (word count: 8k) -updated 8th of April 2024

You don’t know how this ever escaped you before, but as it turned out, Harry had quite the thing for travelling. As a divorced, smoking hot, young DILF (well, he was a father after all), Harry had eventually embraced his freedom after enough years had passed for him to actually start enjoying life again. He had limited visitation rights for his small daughter, Emily, so what was a divorced, smoking hot, young DILF to do other than to travel, namely through Europe, although some of his other favourite destinations had been as far away as Japan.

He was 27 when he first stepped foot in Italy, and, according to Harry, it was love at first sight. Had it not been for Emily, he’d have moved indefinitely, that’s how much he loved it there. He took extended trips though, and had even started to learn some Italian, practising everytime he stayed for as long as 2 months at a time.

As time went on though, his interior design business really took off back in the US and his growing daughter needed his presence in her life more and more, despite her mother’s interference and efforts to alienate them. Time had flown, and here he was, 43 now and no longer single this time around as he returned after countless years.

But very much still a smoking hot DILF.

…Tuscany, Italy. Literal heaven on earth. You hadn’t bought the plane tickets back yet, but you were in no hurry to leave.

It’d been a journey, getting here. And you didn’t just mean Tuscany.

It hadn’t been easy.

Days had trickled by seamlessly. You’d lost track of how long you’d been here for. It was a haze of sleeping in, sunbathing, afternoon naps, decadent food and sweaty, delicious sex.

Looking at him on the wheel of the convertible he’d rented for your stay there, your heart felt like it could inflate enough to break out of your chest. His curls were a delicious mess, he was all tanned and bright eyes as he glanced at you from time to time to flash one of those trademark smiles of his your way. The sun was setting so you’d taken his sunnies off, making him chuckle. “Just wanna look at you properly.”

“Look at the scenery! You can always ogle me but you’re not gonna have this view every day.”

“All I want is you every day.” Yes, Tuscany was breathtaking but whenever you tried to remind yourself to take it all in you inadvertently found yourself settling your eyes back on Harry. How could you, when there was a time, not long ago, when you thought you’d never lay eyes on him ever again?

He squeezed your thigh, his hand in your lap as always and you kept caressing his knuckles, probably doing a great job at polishing his rings as a result. He had to keep his eyes on the road, since these were unfamiliar places you were exploring almost on the daily and almost every road was as narrow as the last.

He flipped his palm over yours, interlacing your fingers, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it gently. He then placed it over his heart and you giggled as he pulled you almost completely over to his side in doing so. He let go then, chuckling in return but you kept your arm extended, and ran the back of your hand along the side of his face, caressing his cheekbone, then his ear, running your fingers through his hair a bit, then down his sharp jawline,admiring his perfect profile.

“I love you, you know,” you nearly murmured, and with the loud sportscar engine you weren’t sure he’d even heard you.

But he did. Had he still been wearing his sunglasses you probably would’ve missed the way his eyes glazed over, slowly growing sparkly in the sunset light. “Baby… none of that. Come on, let me see that handsome smile again.”

“I am smiling. I’m always smiling nowadays. Always. No matter what happens, my default state is happy, because you’re here. I just get emotional sometimes… never tire of you saying that. Never stop, please.”

It was your turn to get teary eyed. “Baby… never. I’ll never stop saying it, feeling it, showing you how much I love you. All the times I wished I could tell you and couldn’t… never taking a day for granted ever again.”

Harry was pulling over, having entered the town you were passing through to get to the small quaint village where you’d rented out a villa for your stay, and before you could ask why, he leaned over and kissed you senseless. This was another thing you’d never tire of. Harry never kissed just for the hell of it. He put his all into every single kiss, be it small, chaste peck or full on make-out session. “My little love. Let’s have gelato for dessert and then I’m taking you home to love on you, how’s that sound?”

“Can we skip the gelato?”

Harry chuckled. “Darling, are you really passing up ice cream so that I could fuck you sooner?”

“Duh. Feel like licking something else. And creampies are better than icecreams. Come onnn….”

Harry laughed out loud at that. “You’re a menace. Up you get before you talk me into this.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but he was already at the passenger door opening it for you then reaching over to the backseat to grab your jacket. It could get chilly even in the warm summer evenings sometimes. He kept it in his one hand and held yours in his other as you began your slow stroll through the nice little town, but Harry seemed to know where you were headed.

“You got a specific place in mind?”

“Mhm. Used to come here often back in the day. Hope it’s still running, they had the best gelato. A… uhm, local brought me there, so you know it’s the real deal.”

“A local, huh?” You teased. Of course you knew what Harry must have been up to on his trips here when he was younger. Nothing wrong about it, of course, and you felt silly for being ever so slightly jealous over it. Part of you wished you could’ve been together much earlier on, but of course, the age difference would’ve made it impossible anyway. You two had met at exactly the right time. Even so, sometimes you felt nostalgic over the lost time you could’ve had together had things been different. Some of which was just life… and some of it, your own doing.

“Signor Harry!”

Your eyes widened at the interaction between the two men, snapping out of your train of thought, the guilt ebbing away but never really going away, ever.

You couldn’t understand Italian, but Harry was still pretty fluent, at least conversationally. He understood it more than he could speak it, at least that’s what he claimed, but ever since you’d arrived in Tuscany he only spoke Italian to everyone he interacted with. You just sat back and admired him, Italian sounded hot as fuck coming out of his mouth. You could tell there was always some sort of talk about you going on with the way the people he was speaking to kept looking at you; and the little you did understand- “bellissima”, “ragazza”, “amante”- you knew that was in reference to you.

This instance was no different, the old man he’d encountered behind the gelato stand seemingly very interested in knowing more about you. Lord knows what Harry was telling them, they all had the same excited reaction, shaking his hand and patting him on the back, sometimes they’d wink at you and it’d make you all flustered.

“Piccolo amore, what flavors would you like, hm?” He pulled you closer into his side.

“Har, they’re all in Italian…”

He pointed at each, translating for you. “Bourbon vanilla, but I guess you got that, Belgian chocolate too, ummm, rum and raisins, strawberries, mint chocolate chip, lemon, meringue,...” he clarified with the older man and then continued “figs, pistachio, dark chocolate, crème brûlée–”

“Oh gosh, stop, I can’t even keep track of so many… just get me what you think I’ll like, alright? What are you getting? Mint chocolate chip?”

“Duh,” he mimicked you from earlier and smothered a kiss on the top of your head, then gave the old man your order. He’d gotten a cone with two scoops for you, which he handed over promptly. “There you go, lovie. I got you dark chocolate and pistachio.”

“Perfect,” you beamed.

“Sorry, they didn’t have creampie.”

You nearly choked on your first taste of the icecream but promptly remembered the older man probably didn’t know what that was. Hopefully. Or if it sounded familiar he’d probably think of an apple pie with extra whipped cream, or something. Hopefully.

“It’s ok, that’s what you would’ve wanted anyway,” you teased and gave him a pointed look. He’d slurped you clean from behind as recently as that morning. He pinched your hip he was resting his hand on then diverted his attention to his double scoop of mint chocolate chip, on a cone just like yours. Harry exchanged some more pleasantries with the old man, as well as paid for the gelato, then after you waved at him politely you resumed your stroll through the old historical town.

Harry loved throwing his arm over your shoulders, or better yet, keeping a firm hold of the back of your neck as you walked. He’d always been possessive of you, and, if anything, he was even more so in Italy where men had a distinct way of ogling women, even catcalling- something they’d never dream of doing with Harry by your side, of course, but their eyes roamed freely scanning you head to toe, and you could feel it everywhere you went. Harry must’ve been hyper aware of it too, maybe more so than you were, because he would snake his hand into your hair and angle your head sufficiently to kiss you- the minty, cold feel of his tongue against yours novel and refreshing. Or even slide his large palm in the back pocket of your jeans, giving your bum a firm squeeze every now and then. “Love this plump arse.”

You puffed through your nostrils, “you better, it’s your fault it’s getting so big. First that fancy pasta and wine for dinner, not gelato, and it’s been like this ever since we got here. I barely buttoned up these jeans today. Gonna have to resort to just wearing my sundresses.”

“You’ll hear no complaints here. Besides, I did say I’d feed you and plump you up, didn’t I? You’re about the same as you were when we first met. Perfect.”

He was right. You’d lost a significant amount of weight in an unhealthy way during your time apart. And he was looking so much healthier too. Happier.

“You’re beautiful either way, Y/N. I just want you healthy and happy. And I know for a fact pasta makes you happy, so…” he shrugged playfully and you kissed his dimple. You knew he was thinking about the same things you were.

It was hard letting go of the past. You couldn’t erase the time apart and the damage it’d done to both of you and your relationship. But for the past 5 months you’d been rebuilding it, day after day, brick by brick. Some days were tough. Especially at the beginning. It’d taken a lot of love, patience and understanding on both sides to get where you were now.

But it was always in the back of your mind.

You still woke up in the middle of the night, startled, somehow back in those crappy places you used to rent out while you’d been on the run. Only for Harry to tighten his hold around your middle, kiss your shoulder gently and reassure you he was there and he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

Harry battled insomnia for a long while, something he’d suffered with while you’d been apart and couldn’t seem to shake off. It reached a point where he now was struggling not to doze off while softening, still inside of you, cuddling in your post orgasmic bliss, before he could clean both of you up. Took a lot of night-long marathons to get there, but it did the trick. The flipside was you calling him an old man. But what else was new?

It still felt weird drinking wine by yourself at dinner, since Harry was now completely sober. Had been since he’d found you waiting on his doorstep. He’d struggled with it at first. It’s hard giving up alcohol cold turkey especially considering it’d gotten to the point where he got into the habit of getting wasted and getting himself into trouble while you’d been apart. Just to… feel something.

You didn’t know how he’d done it, but he hadn’t had a sip since you’d been back into his eyes. You knew it must’ve been really difficult, but he kept the struggle to himself. Focused on you and your fragile relationship.

It’d been particularly hard that one time when you went out with his extended group of friends for Halloween and he found himself in a social setting where everyone was drinking around him, for the first time in a long while. And that would’ve been manageable had he not had to watch a new addition to the group give you a hickey, in a game of truth or dare. You still remember how hard it’d been for Harry to reign it in that night- not just the need for alcohol but also keeping himself in check, doing his best to calm down in the bathroom and then leave the party inconspicuously before anyone got hurt. He tried to hide it from you but you found him in time to help him as best you could. You never wanted him to feel like he had to tackle all his demons alone.

That had been the biggest hurdle so far, but he’d made it through sans incident and you were so proud of him. You didn’t care giving up drinking for his sake if it meant it wouldn’t be a trigger for him, but he assured you that you could indulge whenever you felt like it and that it wasn’t your fault he had to give it up completely.

You could argue that it was, in fact, your fault. You had argued. You two didn’t see eye to eye on this at all, Harry insisting he wasn’t going to let you take the responsibility for it all: after all, his daughter had caused it all to spiral out of control- he should’ve told her off, been more assertive, taken control of the situation; hell, he should’ve raised her better!

But you tried your best not to go there, the two of you. Not anymore. You’d talked things out for a long while, and just decided it was better not to keep bringing up the hurtful past. There was no use anymore. You’d both learned your lessons from it and it was time to live in the moment. Create new, happy memories, that someday, maybe soon, would completely make up for those 17 months in which you’d both just… existed, at most.

And even when you got teary eyed, like earlier in the car, you didn’t have to speak the words to know what the other was trying to convey and how it all still hurt so much sometimes that it felt like the present was a sweet dream, a bubble ready to burst anytime, only for the two of you to wake up each in their own miserable existence, apart and alone.

It still hurt. You both still hurt, but you couldn’t change the past. So instead of pretending it never happened, you acknowledged it, and acted on it the best way you could, doting on eachother with as much love as you could.

Therapy helped a lot. Gave you the tools to work through it and turn it into a valuable lesson, if anything.

“You make me happy.”

He kissed the top of your head in response, “think it’s time to head back home. You’re getting needier by the minute.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “Well, excuse me for being a loving girlfriend I guess.”

“Oh, I know you are, baby. And I love it. But whenever you get like this I just know you’re gonna get all whiny and bratty if I don’t fill you up soon. Hm? Am I wrong? You’re gonna tell me you don’t feel all achy already?”

You huffed. Darnit. He knew you all too well.

“And then if I don’t act on it quick enough you turn bratty. So c’mon.” He placed your jacket he’d been carrying for you over your shoulders, “it’s getting a bit chilly, too.”

Harry was right, as always. You found yourself squirming on the ride back to the villa, rubbing your thighs together. Sure, the wine always got you a bit needy. But you’d acted pretty needy the whole trip. You were just so content and he looked so good and tan and radiant whenever he smiled, he spoke Italian in that low timbre, he fed you goodies and took you to see beautiful places, and then on top if it all he fucked you good and made you feel so loved and appreciated.

You just couldn’t help it. Your dynamic had shifted slightly ever since you’d gotten back together. He’d always been dominant but now you just naturally stepped wholly into your feminine energy in his presence, letting him take over completely- and not just in bed. You were his and handed yourself over to him fully. And it was palpable. You knew he could feel it too.

However, he was right about you getting bratty if he didn’t shower you in affection the moment you craved it. Be it because you were in a public setting or what, sometimes you wished you could just hop in his lap and forget about everything and everyone around. He made you crazy with want and need and you were still growing to learn this side of yourself, as he was learning to manage it. You trusted him to lead the way.

You just got impatient sometimes. Maybe a bit bratty even, as he put it.

You scooted closer to him, as far as your seatbelt allowed, and reached to kiss his jaw. You didn’t just stop after a loud smooch though, no, you started mouthing and nibbling at his jawline, licking your way up to his ear and making him shiver. He was cleanshaven, and you took full advantage.

“Just a gentle reminder that I’m driving a motorised vehicle, sweetheart.”

“I know. You always focus and prioritise our safety, driving so aptly down these narrow roads. And then when we’re on longer strips ahead you really hit the gas, so that my hair can fly all wild the way I like and I can throw my hands up and almost feel like I’m flying, and the car is all horsepower and you look like sex personified.” You brought your hand to his lap and began rubbing dangerously closer and closer to his crotch.

“Y/N,...” he warned.

“What? I can’t help it. Whenever you rev the engine it tickles me, daddy… can feel it in my pussy. Now I’m all drippy.”

“Told you you’d turn into a whiny brat. Scoot back in your seat and be a good girl for daddy. Go on, don’t make me ask you twice.”

You huffed irritatedly and did as instructed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking out the window at the scenery trying to distract yourself. It was dark out now and Harry had pulled the top on the convertible, so you really didn’t understand what the big deal was. You could’ve at least given him a handjob…

But finally, finally you got to the villa and as soon as Harry shut the door behind you, you literally jumped his bones, making him chuckle between the kisses you were peppering his whole face with.

“Uff, needy puppy. What’s gotten into you, hm? You’re extra lovesick today. Didn’t I fuck you good and proper this morning? I’m certain you remember it since you had to mention it in front of poor Luciano. He’s 79 you know. What if he’d had a heart attack?”

You gasped in mock offence, “excuse me?! You’re the one who brought it up!”

“I sure did, wanna see?”

You pushed at his shoulder at his stupid pun as he brought you to the bedroom. He was unfazed of course, you couldn’t budge him if you wanted to, and instead threw you onto the bed with a bounce as if you were a throw pillow he’d been carrying, not his “plumped-up” girlfriend.

He began unbuttoning his shirt, a sight you’d never tire of and you squirmed gawking at him before he pulled you by the ankles to the edge of the bed and peeled your jeans off. “Ufff, look at this weepy little pussy. You made a mess of these panties, Y/N,” he tsked and it only made you grow wetter. You loved it when he teased and even humiliated you a bit. “So, are you gonna answer me or not? What got you so cockdumb, darling, hm? Was it the wine?”

“No,” you whined, “you know I only had two glasses… it’s not that. Plus I ate enough carbs to make up for it, anyway.”

“Then what is it, hm?” He rubbed his hands up and down your legs, kneeling at the foot of the bed, and then pushed your knees to your chest, running his large palms over the back of your thighs.

You threw your head back against the mattress in anticipation and whined pathetically. He was right. You really were extra sensitive tonight. “I’m… I guess I’m ovulating. That must be it.”

Harry groaned deep in his chest and plunged nose first into the fabric of your panties, inhaling deeply. “You smell so heady whenever you ovulate, you know that? Pussy so fragrant, makes my mouth water.”

You’d not gotten back on birth control after so long off it. After a long while of relying on condoms you decided to ditch those, too. Harry pulled out most times, but, since creampies were obviously a hot topic in this relationship, you did ask him to finish inside you occasionally.

Lately it had been more often than not.

You both knew the implications of it, had discussed it. Hell, Harry definitely had a breeding kink to start off with, had had it even while you’d been on birth control since having this kink didn’t necessarily imply actually wanting to get you pregnant.

He’d expressed it was definitely more than just a kink though, and that he’d only ever felt this way about you. But it was up to you. He already had a kid, all grown up now ( even though Emily was still a delicate topic between the two of you). But you were young and he wasn’t too old to be a father by any means, you had time along the line for this, there was no rush, and there were no expectations either way. That being said, he did express his desire to have children with you if you deemed him worthy of it and if you even saw yourself as a mother someday.

You’d not made up your mind about it, however. You were open to the possibility, but definitely not actively trying for a baby, not yet at least. You still felt like you needed more time together just the two of you.

But the way he spoke to you whenever he talked about fantasising knocking you up really got to you. And he felt so good fucking you raw, felt so good filling you up. It felt so natural and your body craved it, craved all of it. It was primal, and you knew it, but it felt so good to just listen to what your bodies dictated instinctually.

You mewled and felt him pull your panties to the side, “fuck, Y/N. You’re drenched, baby. Why didn’t you tell daddy it was this bad, hm? Would’ve eaten you out in the restaurant’s bathroom or something.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time, either. No better than a couple of horny teenagers, really.

His mouth on you was divine, as always. You often wondered if other men even knew how to eat pussy the way Harry did. Seemed like some sort of special talent you were either born with or doomed to live without. He knew what you liked and needed better than you did. How else would anyone explain that you could never dream of getting yourself off the way Harry did?

He pushed your knees further back and really dug in after he promptly peeled your panties off of you. You wanted to beg for him to sink into you but you knew Harry never left a job unfinished, and whenever he ate you out he never left from between your legs until they were shaking and you came on his tongue at least twice, out of which at least once using his fingers also to open you up for him properly. Because, still, after all this time, you couldn’t really take Harry without some sort of warm-up, no matter how drippy you were for him. It was a struggle fitting him in whenever you tended to forgo foreplay, and that was something you fully enjoyed too. Loved the pain that came with him slowly feeding that massive cock of his into you, trying to make it fit inch by delicious inch. But that was for when you were either in a hurry of some sort and desperately needed to squeeze in a quickie, or for when he was feeling particularly mean dom-ish. You rarely got to experience Harry in that mindspace though, and even then he was never hurting you really. It was just a lot rougher and because it was such a rare treat, it was secretly your favourite.

This time, however, you’d seemingly forgotten how Harry had warned you not to get bratty. “Not in a hurry, baby. Gonna feast on this pussy for as long as I damn well please. After all, you know how much I love edging you, and you do need to be punished, hm? Brats don’t get to come. At least not until daddy says so. You’ve been warned, Y/N.”

“But daddy….” you whined pathetically, “I’ve been on edge all day, you can’t do this, not now… please!”

“Should’ve been patient, baby. Told you I’d take care of you when we got back. And I did take care of you this morning, you’re acting like a spoiled brat. Can’t have that can we?”

You kicked your legs a bit and Harry delivered a harsh slap to your bum followed by another swifter one to your pussy, making you keen and pant heavily. “Don’t test me, Y/N. You wanna come? Then be a good girl and take it. Begging doesn’t hurt either.”

You did take it, as best you could. And you did beg. You needed to come desperately but Harry kept edging you for what must’ve been at least over half an hour, although it felt like hours on end.

Then, you decided to switch tactics. Try and play on his own desires.

“Ugh, daddy, please, please fill me up. My pussy needs it, I need to be full. Need it so much. Need your big fat cock to ram into my cervix over and over again. Need to feel you in my tummy. And my tits feel so heavy and tender, at least show them some love, daddy. Please… ovulating is making me feel crazy… My body needs you to mark it every way you can, daddy. Please…”

Harry chuckled sardonically against your pussy, making you tremble but you knew better than to get lost in the feeling and let yourself come without permission. “I know what you’re doing, sweetheart. What a desperate, filthy little thing, playing with me this way. You really must want it bad to taunt daddy like this.”

“I do, daddy, I do, I swear I do… I’d do anything. Just tell me and I’ll do it. All I want is for you to fill me up to the brim and then keep going. Cause I know you can, I’ve seen you do it… I love how you stay hard for me even after you finish, pumping your come back into me again and again and then going all night long until you have me choke on you so that you could unload down my throat this time… please, want it again daddy, I know you can… don’t you want to? Doesn’t have to be my mouth the second time around, you can come inside me again, make it catch. Knock me up. Tie me down.”

Harry groaned loudly this time around and pushed your thighs apart, hovering over you whilst his hand went directly around your neck, squeezing enough for you to roll your eyes to the back of your head. He eased up a little for you to focus your gaze back on him before he licked his lips, your juices all over his face that he’d shaved clean that very afternoon before you’d left for dinner. You loved how he did that sometimes, just as much as you loved his stubble. It was a nice switch and he looked just as handsome either way, you couldn’t make up your mind which you preferred more. However, you did feel grateful he’d shaved before edging you like this for so long, otherwise you’d have been sure to chafe a bit from all the friction his stubble would’ve inflicted.

“Careful, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire. You know all too well I’d love nothing more than to fuck a baby into you. I already creampied you this morning, we’re on dangerous territory as it is.”

He was right. You knew he was. But in that moment, fuck it if you cared. If anything, you two had learned how to just be, live in the moment. Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed.

“All I know is that I want you, all of you. Forever. Whatever that means. Let’s just… be.”

Harry pressed his lips against you and kissed you thoroughly. He’d long since undressed as well, stroking himself languidly every now and then as he ate you out. He didn’t edge himself, you’re the one who needed to be punished, but he just couldn’t help himself. He wanted to be inside of you just as much as you did. But Harry had one thing you lacked which was self control and that’s one of the things that made him such an apt dom in the bedroom.

So, it was easy to slip right inside of you, your pussy swallowing him up hungrily and squeezing him tightly, lest he pulled away. It was such a heady feeling finally being full after craving it for what felt like ages that he’d been edging you, and it only took a few minutes and his permission for you to come hard all over him, making a mess of both of you and the bedding. Luckily the villa had another bedroom you’d not used yet so you didn’t have to worry about changing the bedsheets before you went to sleep.

“That’s it, baby, fucking drench me. Fuck, you were ready to burst weren’t you? My poor darling. Daddy really did a number on you tonight. Gonna keep on coming for me, really open you up for me. How’s that sound? We’re gonna go from edging to overstimulating this poor, sopping pussy.”

You cried out real tears of pleasure as he was dirty talking all throughout your orgasm, never slowing down, no reprieve. He was hellbent on going from one extreme to the other. “Gonna open you up real good, push myself in so deep you’ll feel it for days. You wanted all night? I’ll give you all night.”

Harry didn’t let up. Had you coming on his cock over and over again, your orgasms closer and closer together the longer he went. Flipped you around on your hands and knees, then your stomach, then onto your side, and when you were ready to pass out… the sadistic bastard made you ride him.

You did your best for a good two minutes, until he huffed mockingly. “What’s the matter, sweetheart, thought you wanted to go all night long. You’re barely moving. That’s not very nice, after you begged me to give you my cock for so long.”

You got whiny and frustrated at his teasing tone and really did your best but your thighs were already shaky from all those orgasms, you simply couldn’t muster up the strength. Harry kept mocking you, sitting back, hands behind his head “no better than a pillow princess, look at you. You shouldn’t talk the talk if you can’t walk the walk, baby.”

“Daddy… please… I can’t…”

“I know you can’t. What, you want daddy to do all the work, hm? Nothing but a hole to come into, that’s what you wanna be? Do you think this is what all those Italian women Luciano saw me with year after year did once I brought them back with me for the night? Pfff…”

“Daddy!!!” You cried out. “You’re being cruel…”

“Am I? I haven’t even finished once and you want me to keep going after that, meanwhile you can’t even ride me properly. Silly girl… claimed you wanted me to breed you. Want to be a mother? Gotta be a woman first, learn how to satisfy your man.” He reached over and smacked your bum, which propelled you further, almost dismounting him.

However, the tears that immediately flooded your eyes took you by surprise. This was not the first time Harry had degraded you in bed. You loved it and he knew you did. It was a rare treat, just like him getting rougher with you, which he hadn’t tonight. You usually got off embarrassingly quickly to it, and you knew he’d never say anything with the intention of hurting you.

Harry laughed sardonically but when you pulled back up whatever he’d been gearing up to say got lodged in his throat when he saw the tears gleaming in your eyes, your hands crossing and going to your throat protectively as you straightened up. He immediately pulled out and sat you on his lap, scrambling to cradle you to his chest. “Fuck, baby, you know I meant none of that– you know that! We were playing. You usually love it when I degrade you a bit… I’m such a silly man. Should’ve known better than to go there.”

He spoke softly, caressing and petting you all over, rocking the both of you back and forth and shushing you as you still hiccuped your tears against his chest. “I know… I know you didn’t mean it, but… I just… I was already wondering about them since we got here, I’ve been meaning to ask about what yo– what you used to do when you’d come down here, but I was too much of a coward. I– I got really upset just thinking about it. I know it’s silly… and it’s probably what’s been making me so needy, even before I began ovulating… I just can’t stand the thought. And knowing what… I mean– when we were apart… ughh. I just can’t stomach it, Harry. You were entitled to… You were single after all… in all of those instances… but… but, you’re mine, and…”

“I am yours. I’m yours, Y/N. I pushed it too far… I know your legs are all shaky, I made you ride me on purpose just to mess with you a bit,… but I took it too far.” Feeling you calm down ever so slightly, he pulled away and made you look at him, pushing your hair behind your ears and smudging your tears away. “No one, and I mean no one can ever dream of coming close to you. You hear me? Nobody’s made me feel better, ever. You’re all I could ever dream of, you need to know this Y/N. I’ve never been as compatible sexually with anyone the way I am with you. You think anyone else’s made me finish and then keep on going the whole damn night? Not even when I was younger, let alone now. If I’m any good it’s your own merit, you make me want to push myself and do better, be better for you, every damn time. You make me hard just glancing at you. You’re the best I’ve ever had. And I’m not just saying it to undo the silly stuff I said earlier, none of which was true. I know how jealous you get, I love it a bit too much when you get like that… and I love mocking you and seeing you get all squirmy and embarrassed– but that’s not how I should’ve done it, I went too far. I didn’t mean any of it, please believe me Y/N. I swear it. You’re all I want. I’m the luckiest bastard. Please believe me, sweetheart.”

“I know… I know it, rationally. But it just… rubbed me the wrong way, even though we were playing and I knew better. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I’m sorry. I’m a fucking idiot. Please forgive me.”

“I do. It’s alright. Let’s forget about it, alright?”

Harry looked heartbroken. You’d not really seen him like this for a while and it pained you, so much so that you wish you could’ve just kept your mouth shut and went with it, since you sincerely did believe none of it was really true.

But you swore you’d be truthful to one another, and especially in the bedroom Harry had insisted so much on you voicing any sort of discomfort regarding anything, no matter how small. You never safe worded, hell, you didn’t have one, because you never needed to; he knew how to read your queues and you’d never had to stop anything before.

This was the first time you’d stopped sex.

Eventually, you took a shower together where Harry doted on you and handled you with utmost care and tenderness. Then took you into the other bedroom where a fresh bed awaited and held you tight into his arms. “I love you so much, Y/N. You mean everything to me. I hate that I made you cry, hate that I made you feel even for a second like what I was saying was true at all. It makes me sick to my stomach…”

“Would you… want to tell me about them? The women you met here?”

Harry sighed profusely. “Darling, there’s nothing to say. Meaningless people that I can’t even recall the name of, if I even knew them to begin with. I remember nothing about any of them. I was trying to heal after the divorce, trying to let loose a bit… tried to have a bit of fun, lord knows I needed to get out of my head. Looking back, it’s almost laughable. I really thought I’d hit rock bottom back them… little did I know, it could be so, so much worse than that.

“But… at the time, I felt miserable. I began travelling like I told you a few years after the divorce and I quickly became enamoured with Italy specifically. I don’t know… I just love this country. The women… were a means to an end, I was never looking for anything serious, and they knew it. I wasn’t leading anyone on. Never met someone I connected with. I told you, I’d never been with anyone serious after my divorce until you. I’d never known sex could be this way til I met you. Sure, I’d discovered my more dominant side a while back, not gonna try and lie and say I’ve not had plenty of experience in that regard. But, sex is just sex, at the end of the day. Some partners were better than others, and when I was here back when I was younger I hadn’t even indulged in most of my kinks and fantasies yet. It was later on that I embraced all of that.

“But trust me when I say, I’ve never clicked with someone sexually like this. I don’t know if it’s because I’d fallen in love with you, at least in the beginning I wasn’t looking for this to get serious, as you know. But we did click from the start, you just… you just fucking do it for me, Y/N. Our bodies just call out to one another. You’re so responsive and you always know just what to do or say to me to make me lose my fucking mind. We’ve been together for so long… or should I say- I’ve been in love with you for so long, you’d say my desire would’ve dampened with time, or that sex would start to become monotonous eventually. I don’t think it’s that way at all. I feel like it just keeps growing somehow. I never get my fill with you. Feel like a fucking teenager with a loveboner dancing around your skirt all day long. You make me feel like that, no one else. Do you believe me, Y/N? Madly in love doesn’t even cut it. I worship you.”

You were lost for words. You’d been looking into eachother’s eyes this whole time and you couldn’t explain how this man had just made you go from crying, jealous, frustrated and feeling less than, to feeling like the luckiest woman to walk the earth. “I do believe you, Harry. You don’t have to keep explaining yourself. We’ve played like that before and I always took it well, in fact I love it when you get all condescending and mean and it gets me off embarrassingly quickly usually. I don’t know what it was… maybe you’re right, maybe it hit a little too close to home, but I do know you didn’t mean to. I wish I hadn’t had this reaction, but–”

“No, baby, don’t say that. Don’t try to take the blame in any way. I take full responsibility. I’m just glad you know it wasn’t true… I hope you do, hope you’re not just saying that.”

“I’m not, I swear I’m not. I do believe you. And I love you, too, and needless to say no one has ever compared to you, ever. Maybe I’m not as experienced as you… but I don’t have to be to know I’d have never found a better match than you.”

It was Harry’s turn to get teary eyed as he whispered, “you don’t know how much it means to me… that you didn’t– while we were apart; and I wish… I wish I could take it all back. Had I known I’d ever find you… or that you’d ever want anything to do to me ever again… I’d have never–”

“Shhh. It’s alright, baby. I don’t hold it against you. All of it is my fault– no, don’t interrupt me. It’s the one thing we can’t seem to agree upon. I just want it to be clear, once and for all. Us separating and all the heartache and misery we both went through was my own fault. Not yours. Not Emily’s. No one else’s but mine. I should’ve never left the way I did. That was… an inexcusable betrayal… I did it for what I considered to be the right reasons, lord knows I did it with the best intentions. Never meant to hurt you for one second. I really thought I was doing the right thing, I knew you’d never choose between us.

“So I took the decision for you. Which was a gross overstep. I crossed such a huge line, taking that decision for you, not even discussing it with you, abandoning you. I hurt both of us so much. I was so stupid. So… don’t talk to me about feeling guilty. I know what guilt feels like and it’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. You did what you could to keep pushing, to give you at least a semblance of normalcy. I’d never hold it against you, I truly don’t, Harry. So please… don’t paint me into this hero for not having slept with anyone else while we were apart. It would have been torture for me had I done it. As I’m sure it was for you, and that’s why you did it, so you could punish yourself some more. Don’t think I don’t know that. I don’t pretend to understand what you went through fully… but just know I went through hell as well, at my own doing.

“I’m not even asking for your forgiveness. I could never dream of it. I’m so incredibly happy you gave us another chance… No one else would’ve. I still don’t know how you could do it. Still don’t know what I deserved to have you back in my life. So, all of this nonsense about people you’ve fucked in the past and what they were like? That’s so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. You love me, and god knows I love you, and that’s all there is to it. Nothing else matters.”

“It fucking tears me apart to hear you speak like that, Y/N. I’d go through it all again if it meant I could take away your own pain. I do forgive you, no matter how unworthy you may feel, you’re worth it to me. So worth it. Fucking love of my life. I’d go through hell and back for you. I’d have never stopped searching for you. Never. My life is barren without you. Nothing matters. Children or no children, married or not- all these things I try and contain myself about and not overwhelm you with… are just me being greedy and wanting more and more of you. I never want you to feel pressured in any way. I’m content just being here with you in my arms and looking into your beautiful eyes. It’s all I ever wanted. And it’s more than enough.”

“I know, baby. You’re not pressuring me. I want to make you happy. It’s all I want. That makes me the happiest. I’ll give you everything you want. And not from some place of feeling indebted to you… to make up for all the hurt and suffering I caused. I just want to make it clear, because I know you, and I know you might suspect that of me. No. I meant what I said earlier… I’m not exactly saying we should try for a baby… but maybe we shouldn’t be avoiding it at all costs, either. Let’s see where life takes us. We can handle it, right? We’ve proven as much. Just imagining you with a baby in your arms is getting my ovaries in a knot. Maybe we should listen to what our bodies are trying to tell us.”

Harry rested on his elbow, leaning over you. “You really mean it, baby? You’d want that, truly?”

You nodded slowly and Harry grinned the biggest smile you’d seen on his gorgeous face yet. It dawned on you then and there that he’d been really holding back on how much he truly wanted this. It was enough to erase any shred of doubt from your mind.

He proceeded to pepper your whole entire face in enthusiastic kisses, down your throat and all the way to the insides of your palms. He then pulled your back to his chest and cocooned you in the warmest embrace telling you over and over again how much he loved you and how happy you made him.

And just when you were on the verge of falling asleep, you heard him whisper in your ear, “I can’t wait to wife you up… my little love.”

Daddy issues- Masterlist

A/N: it's taken me a long time to get here ❤️ this is the truest version of my babies, good and bad, they're definitely not perfect but their love is ❤️ thank you for being so patient with me and for sticking with me along this beautiful journey. i'll keep writing check-ins for them, promise! any prompts are welcomed!

P.S.: 🍭 anon, this was supposed to be your much awaited balcony scene but i got... distracted. don't worry. it's gonna happen... eventually 😅

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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#harry styles smut #dilfrry #harry styles #dilf harry styles #dadrry #daddy harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles prompt #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #daddy issues #harry styles writing #harry styles fic

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jujutsubaby · 17 days

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⛓️ lonely at the top ⛓️

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader x true form!sukuna ☆ summary: you are the great ryomen sukuna's favorite healer from the heian era, reincarnated in the modern time. for centuries, you have also been his favorite lover. but when sukuna returns one day with a shockingly handsome blue-eyed sorcerer, you cannot help but feel threatened. no matter what sukuna's plans are for this newcomer, however, you're willing to do whatever it takes to stay on top. ☆ tags: slight canon divergence, smut with a lil plot ¬‿¬ ☆ warnings: MINORS DNI!!!! handjob, oral sex (m/f!receiving; yes this includes sukuna's abdomen mouth lmao); voyeurism; exhibitionism; fingering; p in v; anal; overstimulation; masturbation ☆ a/n: ok the promised (and voted upon) sukugo fic is FINALLY here my loves :3 i had to add reader in the mix too though bc girls just wanna have fun. also writing this kinda made me a sukuna truther :/ maybe i understand gege and sukuna kaisen just a little bit more now :/ ANYWAY ENJOY!!! ☆ wc: 8k

when you had heard of Lord Sukuna's imminent duel with the infamous Satoru Gojo, you knew it would be prudent to practice your Reverse Cursed Technique. you had always been Lord Sukuna's favorite healer (among other things), but that had been the Heian Era. this new time was as foreign and strange to you as the delicate new body into which you had been reincarnated.

and so, when Lord Sukuna re-enters the compound you share with his other most trusted servants and loudly calls for you, you are prepared. flexing your practiced fingers and preparing to channel positive cursed energy, you hurry to the threshold from which his voice had emanated and immediately sink to a kneeling position, your head turned to the floor. as expected, Lord Sukuna had come straight to the healing quarters.

"you summoned me, Lord Sukuna?"

Lord Sukuna approaches you; his footsteps sound heavy and slow. he is exhausted, you can tell, but he does not seem grievously injured as you had expected. so why did he call for you?

your head still inclined downwards, you stifle a gasp as you notice rivulets of blood darkening the floor beneath you and staining your pristine robes.

"you will heal him," Lord Sukuna says simply. you hear a heavy thud hitting the bed you had prepared so carefully for your lord. actually, mystifyingly, you hear two thuds. you chance a glance upwards, and your heart drops when you see that Lord Sukuna has indeed deposited severed halves of some unfortunate sorcerer's body onto the bed. from his pallor, you can tell he has already lost quite a lot of blood. this is beyond any healing you have ever performed in any era. you briefly wonder whether your beloved lord is setting you up to fail when he speaks up.

"i trust you understand that failure is not an option."

"yes, my lord."

"y/n," he says more quietly. you nearly shudder at the sound of his tongue lavishing attention on your name. "i keep you in my employ because you are the only healer worthy of serving me."

it is a statement of arrogance, but it is also one of reassurance. someone who has served as his trusted servant for as long as you have learns how to understand his sometimes esoteric cues.

you feel a firm hand grip your jaw and tilt your face upwards. you are greeted by a sight you have not seen in centuries: Lord Sukuna in his true form, in all his magnificence. his tattoos stand starkly against his glistening torso. his arms, now four in number as you recall, are corded with muscle; the grip his massive hand has on your face could easily crush your windpipe — and yet, it does not. it never would, so long as you serve your purpose. you cannot help but bask in his glowing charisma. this was the sorcerer you were so proud to serve.

"it is my honor to serve you, my lord. i will heal the sorcerer, i swear it."

noticing your desirous eyes raking over his form, his cruel mouth forms a lazy smirk, which is mirrored in the mouth of his stomach. the effect is equal parts unnerving and disarming.

"come, y/n," Lord Sukuna says, pleased with your reaction to his true form. "let us see your patient for the evening." he seizes your shoulders with his second set of arms, and indelicately pulls you to your feet before marching you towards the bed.

Lord Sukuna must still be unused to inhabiting his true body after possessing so many weak mortal vessels, you muse, for he is being far rougher with you than usual. you find that you do not mind, however. in spite of the grave situation, you feel heat embarrassingly beginning to pool at the apex of your thighs at the feel of Lord Sukuna's thick fingers and their crushing grip on your narrow shoulders.

the man in the bed is muscular, although nowhere close to Lord Sukuna's physique. that said, he looks youthful, and strong enough to have put up a good fight. perhaps he would even be strong enough to recover from his horrendous injuries under your expert healing hands.

but who was this man? why was Lord Sukuna so insistent upon healing him? and how was he injured like this in the first place?

your eyes wander to his upper half, and you pause on his face. handsome, with delicate features and a shock of messy white hair. his eyes are slightly agape, and you note that they are the uncommon blue of a summer sea.

blue?

you gasp in spite of yourself and turn to your master, momentarily forgetting that propriety dictates that you not maintain eye contact with someone so many levels above yourself.

"forgive me, Lord Sukuna, but...Satoru Gojo?"

Lord Sukuna does not seem to mind your lapse in etiquette, as he meets your gaze with a grin.

"he put up a marvelous fight. talent like that should not be extinguished, even though most sorcerers doubtlessly dream of being defeated by somebody like the great Sukuna," he says.

Lord Sukuna was always able to make such grandiose statements about himself that would sound asinine coming from any mere man. with the great Lord Sukuna, statements like these are simply the truth. he has always been so far above any human you have known, which is why his fascination with Satoru Gojo is leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. mortal humans, including you, need to know their place. that maxim should include Satoru Gojo, too.

Lord Sukuna's voice shakes you from your reverie. "oh, and y/n?" his normally commanding voice is alarmingly soft, and laced with...something. something typically reserved for his favorites, like you.

"yes, Lord Sukuna?" you ask, carefully keeping your head angled downwards towards the bed so as not to repeat your earlier eye contact gaffe.

you watch as Lord Sukuna reaches a hand out towards Satoru Gojo's listless face to slap the young man's elegant cheek.

"do be gentle with your technique. i want this one staying pretty for me."

ah.

so that was why Lord Sukuna had taken such pains to rescue Satoru Gojo.

with that, Lord Sukuna turns on his heel and leaves you to your patient.

you anticipated healing Gojo's injuries to be your greatest challenge yet, but it is far more taxing than you ever could have known. your Reverse Cursed Technique was meant for healing injuries, but what had happened with Gojo's body was almost beyond an injury.

it had taken you hours in the first place to even figure out a way to use your RCT in this situation, until you had realized that delicate threads of cursed energy still emanated from Gojo's body. even if it was physically severed, his cursed energy still lived, if only barely. it is a testament to the sheer magnitude of Gojo's cursed energy that some still survives; no wonder he had impressed Lord Sukuna so.

you use your RCT to trace the threads of cursed energy from one half of Gojo's body to the other; in doing so, you are able to treat the severing merely as a thinning of cursed energy, and thus as an injury rather than a full separation. you breathe a sigh of relief as you observe one thread of his torso knit itself back together under your watchful eye.

now to repeat the process for the entire circumference of his body. you stretch and sigh; this would be a long night. at least you have a way forward now, though. disappointing Lord Sukuna was never an option.

as you continue reconnecting the flesh and gristle that makes up Satoru Gojo, you find yourself increasingly unable to ignore his objective beauty. as a healer, you always possessed great admiration for the physical form, and Satoru Gojo just happened to be a prime specimen. perhaps the fact that Lord Sukuna had found him to be a worthy adversary (and prize, you remind yourself) also influenced your judgment.

you feel a strange intermingling of lust, jealousy, and envy at the thought. you are well aware that Lord Sukuna has a prodigious sexual appetite that requires countless mortals to satisfy, but you have long been secure in your position as his favorite plaything. now, however, compared to Satoru Gojo, you cannot be so certain; he possesses beauty and power in spades.

you shake your head. this is neither the time nor the place to be evaluating Lord Sukuna’s judgment; favorite or not, it is your duty to complete the task he so graciously entrusted you with. you are not sure of how long you continue to sew Satoru Gojo’s body back together, but you are aware that the sun’s citrus glow has long faded.

Lord Sukuna had always reminded you of the sun, although you have never been bold enough to tell him such a silly romanticism. but in its radiant beauty, burning power, and distance alike, you see your liege. much like the sun, Lord Sukuna had shone on you, and in his light, you had blossomed. you had been an obscure village herbalist’s apprentice until he had found you; you had hardly even been aware of your latent healing powers. it had been Lord Sukuna who had seen your immense potential, and who had honed your sorcery to the level it was today.

even the fact that he had burned down your village the day he whisked you away had done little to dim your fervent gratitude.

the moon begins to rise higher in the night sky now, its light filtering through the shuttered windows of the healing quarters as you continue working. Satoru Gojo’s natural beauty takes on an ethereal glow when bathed in moonlight. the battle between him and Lord Sukuna must have been a sight to behold; as you reconnect his body, you feel his cursed energy growing and twisting into itself with taut strength.

Finally, when his halves become whole again, you sit back and admire your handiwork. The full moon that night meant you did not require a lantern, but the moon is setting now, and you want to give Satoru Gojo’s body a final check.

as you rise to leave the room for a lantern, you feel a hand clasp firmly about your wrist. you gasp softly.

“have i died? am i dead right now?” Satoru Gojo’s voice is hoarse with disuse. you had not expected him to be conscious again yet given the state of him; you suppose the fact that he is is a testament both to your healing ability and to his innate strength.

you sit back down, noticing that he does not loosen his grip on your wrist.

“you are still alive, Satoru Gojo, for i have healed your wounds,” you reply matter of factly.

his blue eyes, now that they are fully open and conscious, are even more shocking than they were when you first glimpsed them earlier that day. they seem to glow from within; they look like they hold full worlds within their depths.

“that’s weird,” Gojo continues. “i could’ve sworn i died and went to heaven seeing as i’m looking at an angel right now.” only when you see that he is grinning impishly at you do you realize he is flirting with you.

your lip curls in distaste, and you extricate your hand from his grasp.

“i am no angel. i am a sorcerer, as you are. you were as good as dead, split clean in half, but i channeled my Reverse Cursed Technique to heal you,” you conclude with pride.

Gojo looks down at his stomach, shiny and pink with fresh scar tissue.

“you must be some sorcerer, then. i was positive i was a goner back there. i’m not sure even Shoko could’ve healed me like this. really nice work,” he muses. he is right, of course. you are unsure of who Shoko is, but Gojo is correct that very few sorcerers could heal such severe injuries. all the same, you loathe the warmth you feel at his admiration; Lord Sukuna’s confidence should be enough for you.

“anyway,” Gojo continues, “who are you exactly? where am i?”

“Lord Sukuna brought you here,” you say. “I am his healer.”

surely the mention of his formidable foe would shake Gojo’s arrogance. you relish the fear that Lord Sukuna’s name seems to inspire in other mortals.

this was unfortunately not the case with Gojo.

“that’s sweet, the ol’ guy wanted me healed up, huh?”

you bristle. “you will address Lord Sukuna with respect!”

Gojo merely laughs at your response, which infuriates you further. “i, for one, fail to see why he deigned to save such an insolent whelp like you,” you snap, succumbing to your rising temper.

“really?” Gojo asks, his blue eyes full of mirth. “guess you don’t get the old guy the way i do. i’m pretty sure I understand why he wanted me alive.”

“then be so kind as to enlighten me,” you say sardonically.

“i’ve been the strongest sorcerer around for basically my whole life,” Gojo says. in spite of the sarcasm in your voice when you asked him to explain himself, he seems sincere. “fighting Sukuna was the first time i felt even remotely challenged. he even technically beat me, i guess.”

he watches you, waiting for you to respond. when you are still silent, he continues.

“i’m sure he feels the same way i do. i know i challenged him the way he challenged me, and for sorcerers at our level, finding a true adversary is hard. once you do find one, letting go can be just as hard.” Gojo sounds wistful; you wonder if he speaks from experience.

“i guess what i’m saying is that it’s lonely at the top,” he finishes; his earlier amusement is gone, and he seems somber now.

you find that you pity Gojo. to be a sorcerer can be a lonesome existence. Lord Sukuna, while alone in his caliber, at least has you and his other servants and devotees to warm and distract him. does Satoru Gojo have anyone?

you reach a hand forward and begin tracing the planes of his pale face with your fingers. he lacks Lord Sukuna’s raw power, but his beauty is exquisite. Gojo leans into your comforting touch.

“how can i ever thank you for bringing me back to life?” he murmurs. as your hand passes near his lips, he stills it with his own and kisses it softly.

you gasp sharply and withdraw your hand as though burned.

“that was wrong,” you say urgently. “you cannot touch me like that.”

Gojo sighs. “you really are devoted to that old man, aren’t you?”

“we both belong to Lord Sukuna,” you reply, emphasizing his proper title. “you must respect his authority over us both.”

“maybe you belong to Sukuku,” Gojo says; you cringe at his inane nickname for Lord Sukuna, but you suppose anything is better than merely calling him an old man. “i, on the other hand, only belong to me, myself, and i.”

you exhale in irritation. no matter how great a sorcerer Satoru Gojo is, his arrogance is certainly grating. part of you wishes you had left him severed in two — at least he was quieter that way. you recall Lord Sukuna once saying that the greatest sorcerers always seemed to possess even greater mental eccentricities; Satoru Gojo certainly proves that theory.

to your annoyance, as he speaks, he takes your hand in his again. you are bemused to find, however, that you do not wish to remove it. his hands are wiry, yet so powerful. there is power within your hands as well, you muse as you intertwine your fingers almost instinctively. your irritation, admiration, and pride are all coalescing into a confusing burn of…passion. how inconvenient.

“you are rather presumptuous, are you not?” comes a voice from the doorway. you gasp and tear your hand from Gojo’s once more, immediately prostrating yourself before Lord Sukuna. Gojo makes no move to even bow his head, meanwhile. typical.

“rise, y/n,” Lord Sukuna continues. “you must be giving our guest a rather unsavory impression of me with your theatrics.” slowly, you raise your face from the floor and see Lord Sukuna has crouched before you. he takes your face in one of his hands. you shiver — it has been so long since you have felt the touch of his true form. “am i not a benevolent master to you?” he murmurs; his face is so close that you can feel his warm, humid breath on the shell of your ear. it is all you can do not to tremble from desire.

with you still reeling from the close contact, Lord Sukuna rises smoothly back to his feet and saunters to Gojo’s bedside.

“you seem in high spirits, Satoru Gojo. i feared i had gone too far with you,” Lord Sukuna says, his tone casual as though he had not cloven the younger man’s body in two just hours earlier.

“oh, i can take much more than that, old man,” Gojo says, innuendo easily discernible from his tone. you cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes; from what you had seen thus far, Satoru Gojo seemed to flirt with everybody he meets. that said, the image of Lord Sukuna and Satoru Gojo, of what Gojo’s playful tone was implying…your mind’s eye is running amok, loathe as you are to admit it. doubtlessly Lord Sukuna’s true form and the sleepless stress of the evening are perverting your mind in unforeseen ways, you reassure yourself.

Lord Sukuna seems tickled by Gojo’s irreverence, and you try not to feel envious. “is that so?” he inquires.

“a credit to your lovely healer, i gotta say,” Gojo continues, his shocking blue eyes twinkling as they meet yours. “she has a rare talent. you sure you need her? i have half a mind to take her with me when we’re done here.”

you know Gojo is being insufferable right now, and moreover irreverent to Lord Sukuna. you know that. but he’s just so handsome, and so appreciative, and so talented in his own right…you feel powerless to stop the breath from catching in your throat, flustered at his attention.

you find yourself thinking about how his smooth skin felt beneath your touch; cool, then warm as you breathed life back into him with your reverse cursed technique. taut, pulsating with the cursed power and blood in his veins.

so lost are you in your meditations of Gojo’s flesh that you nearly miss what Lord Sukuna replies.

“y/n certainly is a first rate sorcerer,” he says, flinging a fond look over his shoulder at you; predictably, you preen at his praise.

“what i enjoy most about y/n’s skill,” he continues, “is her fastidiousness. she leaves no stone unturned. in healing, jujutsu sorcery…and everything else. isn’t that right?” he asks you.

“y-you are too kind, Lord Sukuna,” you bluster, trembling like a newborn fawn. you are usually so comfortable with him, but the presence of a stranger is making you look upon Lord Sukuna with new eyes again.

“and i trust you have been equally thorough with our guest?” Lord Sukuna proceeds.

“of course, Lord Sukuna.”

“how disappointing to hear you lie to me, y/n,” Lord Sukuna tuts. “i know you have not been fully attentive to Satoru Gojo’s recovery.”

your face grows hot. what did you do wrong? you take pride in your work, after all; you would never do a sloppy job no matter the patient, but especially not for one so important to Lord Sukuna.

“my lord? i am afraid i misunderstand you. i have followed only the most careful healing protocols,” you say; this is as close as you dare come to talking back. Lord Sukuna is kind and merciful and great, but much like the fire he commands, his warmth can flare uncontrollably and singe everything in its vicinity if you are not cautious.

“have you made absolutely sure, for example, that Satoru Gojo’s new body is completely functional?” Lord Sukuna prods. he has now turned to face you. one set of his arms is crossed over his chest, while the other is crossed behind his back. his face looks stern, but the mouth on his stomach betrays a smirk.

“Satoru Gojo seems to be functioning as i would expect, my lord,” you reply.

“show me,” he says, stepping aside from Satoru Gojo’s bed. his body had been obscuring Gojo from your view, but you see now that the younger sorcerer has been watching the exchange with a hungry grin. there is clearly a subtext you are missing, but you dare not speculate what it is.

you approach Gojo and perform an examination of his body, as you would any of your patients. you test his reflexes, and check his pupils’ dilation and contraction (during the latter, they look like just a pinprick lost in an ocean. nobody ever warned you of the six eyes’ beauty). when you palpate his ribs, he groans slightly; you feel the sound vibrate through your fingers.

“he is recovering as i might expect, Lord Sukuna. of course, we must keep him under observation, but —”

Lord Sukuna cuts you off with an impatient click of his tongue. “i will not tolerate your inattention to detail!” he growls. your heart starts beating violently, feeling like it’s throwing itself against your breast from within.

you fight to keep your voice steady.

“please forgive my stupidity, my lord,” you grovel, prostrating yourself once more. “i truly am unsure of what more you want me to check. please, if you could just help me, i promise this will never occur again.”

you are mortified to feel the white-hot prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes. Lord Sukuna had never spoken to you this way, not even when you had just begun working for him. back then, you had known next to nothing compared to your knowledge now. you rack your useless brain for something, anything, you might have missed, and come up empty. stupid, stupid girl. you just know this is the fault of Satoru Gojo, that irritating, gorgeous interloper. it is even more humiliating to be berated like this in his presence.

at Lord Sukuna’s silence, you direct your eyes as high as they can go from your position on the ground. you cannot see his face from this angle but you see his broad second mouth has gone from smirking to smiling outright with all its teeth. is he…not actually angry?

you raise your head a little further, emboldened by the sight, and see Lord Sukuna himself smiling down at you, his two expressions identical.

“what a pretty sight you make,” he coos, “on all fours looking up at me like that. my pliant, obedient girl.”

he lowers one of his hands to cup himself through his loose pants, and you clench your thighs together; you are immune to neither the effect of his words, nor to the sight before you.

he seamlessly bends down and raises you to your feet; as he holds you against him, it’s all you can do to hold yourself back from rutting against his massive body. but Lord Sukuna has always valued your restraint, and you know he has something planned for you.

he rotates you now so your back is to him, and cages you tightly to his body with all four arms. you gasp; you have forgotten this delicious sensation, of being so thoroughly engulfed by Lord Sukuna that it is almost as if he has subsumed you entirely. he has turned you to face Gojo, who has been watching the scene unfold with great interest. you feel Lord Sukuna’s hardness growing behind you, but you resist the urge to grind into it and remain perfectly still. his pliant, obedient girl.

“now, go attend to our guest,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a finger.

“yes, my lord,” you breathe, so aroused that you are nearly in pain.

he then bends down until his lips tickle the back of your ear, making you shiver.

“show Satoru Gojo that that mouth of yours is meant for greater things than just making pretty little apologies to me,” he murmurs; you feel his voice reverberate through your whole body. the last thing you want to do is detach yourself from Lord Sukuna right now, but you know what he desires of you, and you are always so eager to impress him. this is one of the things he loves about you, you know.

you return to Satoru Gojo’s bed as though to continue your examination; this time, however, you straddle him, desperate for just an ounce of friction to relieve your throbbing arousal.

“i thought you had forgotten about me,” he pouts.

“stop speaking, you stupid, beautiful man,” you reply, before tearing a kiss from his mouth. his lips are still slightly chapped from his hours of unconsciousness, and you rake your teeth across them. he groans into your mouth as you roll your hips until you feel him beginning to grow hard beneath you; the sensation sense frissons of pleasure through you, but you are single-minded in your task. you break your kiss abruptly and sit back, smirking at the pathetic whine Gojo lets out at your sudden absence.

Gojo is only wearing a simple robe you had dressed him in after repairing him; this provides you with convenient access to conduct your examination. you withdraw a vial of oil you had kept in the pocket of your own robes (admittedly in anticipation of Lord Sukuna’s arrival), spread it across your hand, and begin stroking him. “it seems that everything is in working order,” you remark as his erection grows under your expert ministrations. he moans and bucks into your hand.

“p-please…” Gojo pants. the sound of his neediness goes straight to your core, which is rapidly growing wetter. this is not the time to pay attention to yourself, though; not when you’re attending to a patient.

“‘please’ what, Satoru Gojo?” you tease; you know he has wanted to feel your mouth around him ever since Lord Sukuna alluded to it. you are enjoying watching this powerful sorcerer squirm by your hand, however. you glance over your shoulder and see Lord Sukuna is stroking himself off as well, his pants doffed entirely. you gulp; it has been so very long since Lord Sukuna has been in his own body; the sight of his girth is making you flush with desire.

meeting your gaze, Lord Sukuna blows a kiss in your direction, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whining in sheer need to have him inside you. the sooner you obey him and pleasure Satoru Gojo, the sooner you may have the honor of feeling him stretch your walls; and so, you turn back to your guest.

Gojo has the most pathetic look in his stunning blue eyes, driven half mad by yet unfulfilled lust. his plush lips are twisted in a pained grimace. you see him moving his hand to give himself the pleasure you are denying him, but you hold it in place firmly.

“you’ve been such a patient boy so far; don’t ruin it now,” you coo, nipping his lower lip. you then undo his robe and crawl backwards until your face hovers over his engorged cock. you place a light kiss at its warm tip, licking off a bead of precum, before looking back up at him through heavily lidded eyes. Gojo tilts his head back, exposing the delicate white expanse of his throat.

“Please, y/n!” he cries. “i need you!”

the sound of your name on his needy tongue is having quite an effect on you, and you finally take pity on him; he only just recovered, after all. in one smooth motion, you take as much of his length as you can in your mouth. Gojo groans at the feeling of the warm wetness engulfing his cock, and you begin moving your head up and down, complementing the motions with your tongue as you cup his balls with your free hand.

“feel free to gag her,” Lord Sukuna calls from his corner of the room. “her little throat can take it.”

Lord Sukuna instructing Gojo on how to fuck your mouth is turning you on more than you can handle, and you moan involuntarily around his length. Gojo threads his fingers through your hair and pushes your head down on him; you swallow and feel him filling your mouth, his tip battering your throat mercilessly. you can tell from his increasing pace, from the guttural growls the feeling of you is drawing from him, that he must be getting close.

finally, finally, you feel a strong, calloused, beautifully familiar pair of hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and you could cry in relief.

“you have been such a good girl for me,” Lord Sukuna hums sensually. “and i always reward loyalty.” you buck your hips backwards into him, raising them to provide him readier access to your dripping cunt. you feel the pads of his thumbs stroke over your ass as his tongue begins lapping at your folds. his second tongue, you can tell, from its breadth and roughness plundering you. for all its added size compared to his primary tongue, however, Lord Sukuna is no less exacting with it, and he is soon circling your clit with painful accuracy. he does not wait long before giving you the pleasure you crave, and almost embarrassingly quickly, you come all over his massive tongue with a wanton moan.

with the sound of your orgasm, and the feel of your moan vibrating around him, Gojo fists your hair even more tightly and releases hot ropes into your throat with a growl.

“swallow it all,” Lord Sukuna commands, reaching forward to stroke your hair. “swallow it down for me.” you are nothing if not obedient, and you dutifully swallow Gojo’s whole load, not letting a single drop go to waste. Gojo leans back on the headboard, spent, and relaxes his vice grip on your hair. you pop your lips off him, licking them clean and smirking to yourself at your ability to have someone like Satoru Gojo at your mercy.

“i believe our guest needs time to rest before we continue,” you hear Lord Sukuna say from behind you. you turn and see that he is leaning back casually on one of the other beds in the healing quarters. “let us leave him for the time being, y/n.”

you are a little disappointed to be stopping already, but you comply; Lord Sukuna is probably correct that too much excitement for Gojo could hinder his healing process. you make your way towards the doorway, yawning a little, when you feel a firm hand close around your wrist. before you have a chance to react, you’re roughly tugged backwards, spinning directly into Lord Sukuna’s firm chest.

“i don’t believe i dismissed you, did i?” he purrs into your ear, and a thrill of excitement slithers through your body.

“did i?” he repeats, pinching the tender skin at your waist at your silence.

“n-no,” you gasp, hardly able to focus over your excitement for what will inevitably follow.

Lord Sukuna twists his hand, making you hiss lightly at the pleasurable pain.

“‘no’ what, y/n? how is it you should address me?”

“no, Lord Sukuna,” you manage to breathe out. he lets out a low chuckle that reverberates through his chest before bending you over an empty bed, holding both your wrists behind your back with one of his hands as he pushes your head down with another. you are already incredibly aroused when you feel a third hand begin to explore your slick folds.

“already so wet for me, are you?” he teases; you can hear the smirk in his voice. you can only whimper in response. he easily inserts two fingers into you, eliciting a sharp cry when he hooks them around and lightly tickles the sensitive spot that can make you come apart.

“now,” you manage to grind out between your teeth. “please, my lord…i need you inside me now…”

“making demands now?” Lord Sukuna taunts. “we certainly are feeling cheeky this evening, aren’t we?”

in spite of his words of chastisement, however, Lord Sukuna seems intent on granting your wishes, and you feel his stiff head, moist with precum, brushing once, twice, thrice against your entrance, building up friction. then, in one decisive motion, he enters you at last; Lord Sukuna was, by all definitions and especially mortal standards, extremely well-endowed; however, you have been ready for him for so long that his length faces little resistance. you sigh in relief at the feel of his massive girth stretching your walls, making you feel so full and complete. at times like this, you feel that your body was created to accommodate him, that being used like this by him was your most sacred purpose.

you push back against him, trying to seat him even more deeply within yourself. in response, he strokes your hair affectionately. he then pulls out slightly, and with one more thrust, he bottoms out in you with a groan.

he begins to drive into you with greater speed and urgency, two of his hands holding your hips in place so tightly that you know his broad fingertips will leave bruises. he adjusts his angle, pushing your face into the mattress and bending over you until your bodies are flush, and he continues at an unrelenting pace. your pleasure continues to build as he bottoms out again and again inside you, his massive second tongue slavering lasciviously over the curves of your back, until you come for the second time that night. you cry out in ecstasy without shame, feeling your walls clench even more tightly around Lord Sukuna. he groans at the sensation and sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he empties himself into you until his come drips down your thighs.

utterly sated, you begin to crawl out from under Lord Sukuna’s massive form, your legs trembling with exertion, pleasure, and pain alike. your shaky breath leaves your lungs all at once when he abruptly flips you on your back. he is so imposing and beautiful, hovering over you like this, with an inscrutable look in his cruel, narrow eyes.

“i believe i already told you, y/n,” he growls, “you are dismissed only when i dismiss you. and i am nowhere near through with you yet.”

holding himself up with two arms, he takes your hand with a third and draws it down until it is around his cock, which is already hard again.

“look what you do to me,” he murmurs, before using your hand to brush his tip against your still-tender vulva.

“i’m not yet ready, my lord,” you whimper weakly, trying to wriggle out from his grasp to no avail. you gasp as he grinds himself between your thighs and against your slickened entrance, growing harder still. the friction almost surpasses pleasure to pain after your powerful recent orgasm, and you keen loudly, unable to help yourself. “i-it’s…too much…i can’t take it,” you protest, tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

Lord Sukuna promptly silences your noisy cries by clamping a swift hand to your throat.

“i alone dictate what you can and cannot take,” he declares, gently pressing on the sides of your neck and slipping a hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together. with uncharacteristic tenderness, he then kisses the tears from your cheeks.

“and i know you can take this.”

he stares into your eyes until you assent with a silent nod, and he smiles.

“good girl,” he whispers, before using his hand to pry your thighs apart and positioning himself properly. he buries himself inside you again, this time with minimal resistance — between your and his combined juices, you are sopping wet now. encouraged, he hitches your leg over his shoulder for deeper access to your core and begins thrusting into you in earnest. from this new angle, he drives right into your most sensitive inner point, and you are sure your cries can be heard throughout the compound. you hardly care who can hear you now, though; you hardly even pay attention to Gojo, who is now looking fully alert and wide-eyed at the show he is getting.

you dig your fingernails into Lord Sukuna’s sinuous shoulders and cry out again and again until your voice grows hoarse.

“say my name,” Lord Sukuna commands between his own grunts of pleasure.

“L-Lord Sukuna,” you moan, your voice shaking as his thrusts increase in pace. he wraps his hand around your throat again.

“my true name, y/n” he growls. he drives into you faster; you know he is close, and it is your privilege to bring him over the edge.

as soon as he releases his grasp on your neck, you reach up, stroking your hand through his unruly hair before pulling his ear down to your lips. “as you wish, Ryomen,” you purr into his ear. he moans and nearly folds you in half as he drives into you at a diabolical pace. as he reaches his peak, he withdraws his length from you and unleashes his load all over your stomach, marking you as his own; the thought that you had this effect on him, this power over him, multiplies your own pleasure, and you climax once again, your legs shaking and toes curling in sheer bliss.

Lord Sukuna rolls off of your body, both of you breathing heavily.

“now, y/n,” he pants, “you are dismissed. i shall attend to our guest in your stead.”

your exertions have exhausted you, but you are still obedient to him before anything else. and so, covered in both of your comes, his saliva, and a sheen of your own sweat, you bow deeply, and excuse yourself from the room. you are so utterly sated, so pleasurably sore, that all you can think of is taking a hot bath and resting.

well…almost all you can think of.

Lord Sukuna’s final statement has piqued your curiosity, however. and that is why, rather than returning right away to your own quarters, you find yourself kneeling on the floor peering around the curtain closing off the medical wing. if you are perfectly silent and still, you can remain undetected. besides, you reason, Gojo is still your patient, and so it behooves you to keep a close eye on his recovery.

(why leave everything to the imagination, after all?)

by the time you are settled in from your covert viewing spot, you see that Lord Sukuna is standing by Gojo’s bedside. the younger sorcerer is fully awake and alert now, peering up inquisitively with those blue eyes of his.

“is it finally my turn now, then?” he asks; you note that he sounds slightly petulant and roll your eyes. was he really jealous now, of all times?

You can only see his muscled back from where you sit, but you know from how his shoulders shake that Lord Sukuna is laughing at Gojo’s insubordination.

“you have seen what i demand, Satoru Gojo,” he says, crossing both sets of arms. “do you believe you can keep up, even in your state?”

you know that Lord Sukuna’s line of questioning is only pretense, of course. you recall why it was that Lord Sukuna had brought back Satoru Gojo for you to heal. and you remember his request — i want this one staying pretty for me, he had said.

“of course i can ‘keep up,’” Gojo scoffs. “can you keep up, old man? you seemed to get pretty tired just then.”

you grimace at Gojo’s disrespect, but Lord Sukuna is made of sterner stuff, and he just laughs even louder before clapping a pair of hands around Gojo’s beautiful face. you note that Gojo flinches, if only for a split second.

“such a mouth on you,” he hums, brushing a thumb across Gojo’s bottom lip. “just look at you. we will have to do something about that attitude.”

“like what?” Gojo asks, his eyes glimmering with anticipation that you can see even from where you sit. “what exactly is it you would do, Sukuku dear?”

“you seem to have your own ideas already. what is it you would have me do?” you can hear Lord Sukuna’s grin, even if you cannot see it.

Gojo simply winks.

“here’s an idea. why don’t you split me in half again?”

Lord Sukuna laughs heartily before leaning forward over Gojo’s bed, slightly obscuring your view.

“what an idea, Satoru Gojo. would you enjoy that?”

for some reason, Gojo does not answer right away; you try to crane your neck around to see what is happening, but he speaks again soon.

“y…yes…” he responds, suddenly breathless. “i believe i w-would.”

suddenly, you realize that, while you cannot see all of Gojo’s body from this angle, you can see one of Lord Sukuna’s arms moving rapidly up and down, and you can see a blush beginning to color Gojo’s delicate cheeks. your breath catches in your throat as you put together what it is you are witnessing. scrambling for a better view, you decide that both men are occupied enough that you can creep back into the corner of the room and hide behind one of the beds for a clearer angle.

“and are you certain you can truly take me? all of me?” Sukuna inquires, continuing his businesslike tone as though he is not currently stroking his rival off.

“mm-of course,” Gojo keens.

“‘of course’ who?” Lord Sukuna prompts, repeating the routine he loves to do with you.

“forget your own name, Sukuku? you gettin’ senile?” he pants with a grin that is equal parts lascivious and mischievous. this is bratty behavior Lord Sukuna never had to suffer from you, so you wonder with eager anticipation how he will respond.

Lord Sukuna merely tuts in response. “what a shame. whether you can accommodate all of me or not, we will have to fix that smart mouth of yours first.”

he fists a hand in Gojo’s fine white hair, easily palming his full skull as he pulls back until the blue-eyed sorcerer is looking straight up at him.

“i happen to know the best cure for a smart mouth,” Gojo says with a feral grin. he darts his tongue out and swipes it swiftly across Lord Sukuna’s swollen tip.

“get on with it, then,” Lord Sukuna growls, roughly forcing Gojo’s head onto his length. you grimace at the vigor with which Lord Sukuna rams himself down Gojo’s throat which looks so dainty to you, but he slurps eagerly on it; it seems Satoru Gojo is never one to shy away from a challenge.

watching Lord Sukuna use Gojo’s throat so mercilessly, and Gojo meeting the task with such enthusiasm, you find yourself unable to resist snaking a hand down between your legs, where you feel heat and tension building once again. as you toy with yourself, careful to remain as quiet as possible, you see Sukuna pull Gojo’s mouth from his still-hard cock with a wet pop.

“you have proven yourself to me,” he says, releasing his grip on Gojo’s hair to caress it tenderly back from his face. “and it is time for your reward.” you hold your breath; this should be a treat for you, as well.

with a grip on Gojo’s shoulders, he raises him from the bed; Gojo, still a little shaky on his legs, braces himself back against Lord Sukuna’s body. Gojo is by no means a small man, but his form is still engulfed when he is up against Lord Sukuna; you bite your lip at the thought and rub yourself faster.

Lord Sukuna reaches around Gojo to the bedside table, where you had deposited your vial of oil, and lubricates his fingers with a few drops. his hands should still be slick with all of your combined secretions, you reason, but Lord Sukuna always takes extra precautions given his immensity. then, gently bending Gojo back over, he inserts one finger. Gojo throws his head back against Lord Sukuna’s chest and groans as he gets accustomed to the feeling, and he moans outright as Lord Sukuna inserts his second finger.

the sight and sound send hot coils of pleasure through you, and you have to clap a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from mirroring the sounds Gojo is making.

“are you prepared for me to split you in half again, as you so eloquently put it?” Lord Sukuna purrs against the shell Gojo’s reddening ear.

“yes!” Gojo cries without hesitation.

“would you beg for it?” Sukuna prods, not one to give his rival what he is asking for so easily.

“please!” when Sukuna makes no moves to proceed, Gojo cries out again. “please, Lord Sukuna,” he breathes. “please make me yours.”

“good,” Lord Sukuna says, leaves a bruising bite at the nape of Gojo’s neck. “well said.” then, preparing his length and using both sets of his arms to position himself and Gojo optimally, Lord Sukuna enters him with agonizing slowness. you are unsure of whether you even thought to hold yourself back from moaning this time, but it is drowned out in any case by Gojo’s own needy vocalizations.

as he pumps in and out of Gojo, all three of you are overcome by your own pleasure, by the complicated dynamics you have brought into the medical wing and worked out in such a raw and wild way. your earlier feelings of confused irritation for Gojo dissipate as you watch his beautiful form twisting in paroxysms of pleasure; in him, you see yourself. as the two men climax at nearly the same time, scattering their pearly semen across the sheets and each other, you find yourself peaking soon after, tears streaming down your face in sheer joy.

As Lord Sukuna settles Gojo back down into the bed for him to continue his recovery, he gives him a fond pat on the head.

“you were magnificent, Satoru Gojo.”

the sorcerer gives a little self-satisfied smile before falling into a deep slumber nearly immediately, and you make a mental note to ensure that all the exertion did not compromise his healing in any way. before Lord Sukuna can turn back around, you gather your earlier discarded robe around yourself and quietly crawl back out of the room and behind the curtain, pleased with yourself for not being caught.

or so you thought.

“there is no need to exit on my account, y/n,” he calls, not turning around. you gasp before re-entering sheepishly.

“i apologize, my lord. i merely wished not to disturb you both, so i did not make myself known,” you explain rather weakly.

“i am pleased you… enjoyed yourself,” he says, finally looking over his shoulder at you with a knowing smile that makes you shiver with shame.

“you seem to have enjoyed yourself as well, my lord,” you reply; your envy of Gojo for earning Lord Sukuna’s attention is building back up, and you are unable to keep it from your voice.

“oh, y/n,” Lord Sukuna chuckles fondly, closing the space between you with long strides before he is clasping you to him.

“Satoru Gojo is a novelty.” he leans down until your mouths meet, and your breath catches.

“you, however,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot, “are mine. do you understand?”

“yes, my lord,” you breathe back into him, hardly daring to move.

he steps back from you first, calling for Uraume much to your confusion. the soft spoken chef, a long-time friend of yours inside the compound, appears with their characteristic quiet swiftness. much like yourself, Lord Sukuna has implicit trust in their devotion, and so often depends on them for personal tasks even beyond their formal role in the kitchen. as such, you have both built a mutual respect for one another. you nod a cordial greeting at them, which they return.

“you called for me, Lord Sukuna?” they ask with their careful diction.

“please draw a bath and get y/n cleaned up for me,” he says.

you look at him inquiringly, and he chuckles darkly, his previous tenderness all gone.

“you and your pleasure both belong to me, y/n,” he reminds you. “and i know i did not give you my permission to…enjoy the show.”

you gulp, and he turns back to Uraume.

“get her prettied up for me,” he continues with a devious grin of anticipation, “and bring her back to me so i may discipline her appropriately for her disobedience.”

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erodasfishtacos · 10 months

Text

Picked The Right One

prompt: ceorry first vs most recent time

word count: 8.5k+

warnings: teeth rotting fluff, smut

AN: hiiii. Long time! I’m not posting on here anymore really but I wanted to post a one shot to show my appreciation for my fans who can’t subscribe to my patreon.

I post 4-5 8k+ fics a month for $3USD

Love youuuuu isla x

YN had never ever pictured herself where she is currently at right now.

Because currently, she was trying to pick between two different dresses as she went on her fifth date with a billionaire.

It sounded comical even in her head.

YN never really imagined who she would end up with but she had been through a handful of duds and thought that might set the precedent for the rest of her life.

Up until Harry, she barely even made it past a date with someone before she’s calling it off because she can’t see herself with the person.

The last time YN went out on a date, the man ‘forgot’ his wallet after ordering three imported beers that cost YN nearly half of a paycheck.

Their dates had been going well, YN felt less and less nervous every time that she saw Harry but she still felt the need to impress him.

She shouldn’t have googled his dating history even though it doesn’t confirm anything from his past - he has always been secretive and private about his personal life.

However, there are some paparazzi shots of him leaving exclusive night clubs with pretty, modelesque girls in the background behind him.

And thousands of gossip blogs who loved to predict who he was sleeping with and who he was in a relationship with.

He had disclosed to YN that he has only had one serious relationship that ended horribly when he was just beginning his career which would have been years ago.

YN’s still in her bathrobe, Harry’s coming to pick her up any moment, and she’s wondering how nice the bra and underwear set she picked out needs to be.

Tonight was the first time Harry was taking her to his house or from what she saw on google - his 23.3 million pound estate.

YN had been surprised that he hadn’t been pushy like other dates who tried to get in her pants.

The sexual tension has definitely been building but Harry hadn’t made any move to do anything about it.

He hadn’t asked her back to his house after any of the five dates but their kisses had been getting longer and steamier.

Particularly after the last one.

Harry always parked his car and walked her up to her apartment door, she appreciated that he tried to not crinkle his nose at that mildew odor or how run down the interior of the building is.

When they get to her burnt orange door, YN unlocks it and turns back around to him as he watches her with a small smile.

“Do you want to come in?” YN offers even though she knows that he’ll decline, she’s always hopeful.

“I want to but I shouldn’t. Let me be a gentleman,” Harry simpers softly, his voice deep and accent thick, his hands come up to cup her jaw, “But I am going to steal a kiss.”

“Please,” YN agrees with excitement pumping through her veins, he leans down to connect their lips and he’s such a good kisser.

As soon as their lips connect, YN has to swallow down a moan because even though it’s just a kiss - she’s never been more turned on in her life.

She parts her lips when he swipes his tongue across them, pushing inside once she opens up, and stroking her tongue with his.

His body is pressed up into hers, cornering her more against the door and YN’s lets the smallest whimper slip.

She’s about to be embarrassed but Harry growls at the noise and breaks a part for the moment, “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

YN can’t even blink before his mouth is back on hers, holding her jaw a bit firmer, and biting at her bottom lip.

She had never physically felt herself getting wet until right now when she actually cold feel it start to coat her folds.

“Shame on you,” A scratchy voice hisses from behind them, making them split apart quickly, and they look back to see YN’s neighbor.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jameson,” YN waves her hand as the woman glares at her, shaking her head before disappearing into the apartment across from them.

Harry’s thumb comes up to pull at her swollen bottom lip, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

YN’s never been so bold as now when she leans back up to kiss him again, “Please, come in?”

Harry entertains one more long kiss before he’s breaking them apart and taking a step back, “Let me do this right, pet. I’m going to make it special.”

“You do this with all your dates?” YN jokes lamely because she just can‘t imagine that she’s the first girl he’s done this with.

Harry’s smile falters a bit but he recovers quickly, his thumb now brushing over her cheekbone.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to say,” He chuckles as his eyes dart to the side in nervousness, “I haven’t been this much of a gentleman in the past is all I will say.”

“Why is it different for me? I’m not anything special,” She replies because she doesn’t think she’s nearly anything compared to the other beautiful women he’s had on his life.

“Hey,” His voice is firmer and offended by her comments, his green eyes serious and honeyed when he looks at her, “You’re the most special person I’ve ever met.”

YN startles when she hears a knock at her front door, glancing over to the clock, and Harry is exactly on time for their date.

She’s still staring at her lingerie sets when the noise echos through her apartment, her hair and makeup was at least done but she was still only in a towel.

After the second knock comes, YN’s cursing as she rushes to the door, swinging it open, and Harry’s in the hallways looking like he just walked off the set of a photoshoot in a perfect fitting suit and styled hair.

He raises an eyebrow as he looks her up and down, “I’m not going to complain if this is all you want to wear tonight. Much easier to take it off of you.”

Oh, they were definitely fucking.

YN moves aside to let him in, he ducks down to kiss her cheek before sitting on the edge of her sofa.

“I just need like two more minutes,” She tells quickly, why was her heart rate spiking anytime he was around?

“I’ll be here,” Harry replies as his eyes trace around her apartment, picking up a book on her coffee table.

YN takes a deep breath when she’s back in her room, snatching the sexier set off the bed before shimmying a recently purchased black dress overtop.

Harry stands up and straightens his broad shoulders when she comes back into the living room, “Bloody hell. You look like a dream.”

YN’s stomach flips at his seemingly sincere compliment but she can’t control the intrusive comments that follow in her own mind.

You’re not as pretty as that one model he was seen with

You’re not a model

He’s just being nice

“Thank you. You look handsome,” She replies nervously, she hadn’t been this nervous on their last two or three dates but it felt like the first time all over again.

Harry isn’t dumb, he can sense it but he’s kind enough not to call her out on it as they quietly walk to his car.

After slipping in the passenger seat of the exotic car, a new one for every date, and Harry begins to drive off - it almost feels tense for a moment.

Harry’s hand twitches on the wheel, hesitating before asking, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

It makes YN feels guilty that now she’s made Harry nervous enough that he didn’t feel comfortable enough to reach over.

“You don’t have to ask,” YN assures him with more confidence in her voice as his one hand moves from the well to her thigh, his hand was big, making her thick thigh look nearly encompassed, the metal of his rings was cold against her skin.

She wanted to smack herself when she felt the arousal starting to creep in, clenching her thighs together a bit too obviously because Harry smirks to himself but doesn’t make a remark.

“Thi-this is your house?” YN’s eyes widen when they pull through the gates, men dressed in black waving them through before the gate closes quickly behind them.

The pictures on google didn’t do the beauty of the sprawling estate justice.

It was so massive that YN couldn’t imagine just one person living alone in there and it made her a little sad to think about Harry in this near castle all by himself.

Harry gives her a tour of some of the rooms where all YN can do is nod along to what he’s saying, compliment the astounding beauty, and not have any doubt why his house has been mentioned in Architectural Digest so much.

Then he’s leading her to the kitchen where YN takes a seat on a stool while Harry begins pulling out the ingredients to make dinner.

YN cannot stop staring at everything around her - she’s never seen anything close to this and to think that she’s going on date with someone who lives this extravagantly.

The conversation flows easily while Harry moves around the kitchen to prepare the chicken Alfredo, there’s plenty of laughter and quite a few stolen kisses before they sit down for dinner.

Towards the end of the meal, the conversation becomes more serious, and Harry takes a sip of his wine before stating, “None of this impresses you, does it?”

YN’s taken aback by the question, he doesn’t seem angry but he just seems confused as he puts down his fork and knife, “What do you mean?”

Harry shakes his head like he doesn’t know how to get out the words he wants to, “It’s just…the cars, my house, it doesn’t seem like you care. I don’t mean that in a bad way, it just doesn’t seem to be impressing you and I…I don’t really know how to take that.”

“I’ve never brought a date to my home before but still, usually most of the conversation on previous dates has been about my business or my cars or my estates. You haven’t bought any of that up once or made a big deal about it.”

YN can’t read Harry very in this moment, she doesn’t know him well enough, and his face is smooth, calm but just the tiniest furrow in his brow gives away emotion.

“It’s very impressive, the life you’ve built,” YN chooses her words carefully, putting down her glass of wine, “It’s something you should be proud of. I haven’t brought any of those things up because those things aren’t who you are. I’ve been asking you about family, hobbies, likes, dislikes because I care about you as a person, not as a ‘billionaire’ or a ‘public figure.”

Harry’s face distorts a little bit, he almost looks a bit devastated as he looks down at his plate, and he doesn’t say anything which makes YN think she said something wrong.

“I’m sorry, I just…” YN trails off with a sigh.

“Don’t apologize, please. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Harry glances back up with widen eyes, he reaches across the table to put his hand over her, “I’ve just never had someone care about me, I don’t think. At least not for a very long time.”

YN moves her hand away, only to move it atop his and squeezes, “I think it’s lovely that you’ve created a very comfortable and successful life for yourself but I’m falling for you as a person, not the cars or the house.”

And a blinding crooked smile breaks out on Harry’s face, YN loved when his dimples popped out and carved into his cheeks, “Falling for me? Are you falling for me, darling?”

YN’s feel the heat rises up into her cheeks, looking down at the table for a moment but then Harry’s pushing his chair back and standing up - he’s strides over to YN’s chair and helps her out of it, pulling her up and into his chest.

“No need to be embarassed, S’just me,” Harry rumbles as he tucks his finger up her chin and lifts her head so that he can connect their lips softly, YN’s hands coming to rest on his chest.

She giggles though, shaking her head at his words - it makes him pull back and ask, “What’s funny, hm?”

“You say it’s just you,” YN murmurs, their lips are stil brushing against one another’s as they talk, “But that’s the issue, you have me on my toes. I want to impress you, not embarrass myself.”

“M’already impressed,” Harry tells her between little pecks, “Impressed how smart you are, how independent and free-thinking you, by how fuckin’ gorgeous you are. You don’t need to be embarassed if you’re falling f’me because sweetheart, m’pretty much already gone for you. You’re everything that I want.”

“Please,” YN says softly because they basically just confessed their fondness for each other and the dark sweet smell of his cologne was making her dizzy.

She would never consider herself sex hungry until this point, she had always been more than okay waiting a few dates to get intimate but YN had never craved someone else’s body like this.

“Please what, sweet girl,” Harry replies against her lips, he had her pressed up against an oak cabinet that looked to be displaying expensive, hand-painted plates and vases - the pieces shook a bit when her back hit the glass.

A single glass ends up falling off one of the higher shelf’s, shattering behind them, and YN begins to profusely apologizing, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

And Harry’s unconcerned that a five thousand dollar wine glass just shattered as he shushes her quiet, “S’fine. Just want to kiss you,” He mumbles against her lips.

YN presses further into the kiss, her hands moving from his chest up and around his neck as she parts her lips, allowing their tongues to brush as his hands move to her hips - massaging at the plush as his leg sneaks in between hers, making it so she couldn’t clench her thighs together.

“Want to-“ YN gets distracted halfway through her sentence when his hands begin to trail up her sides, up towards her chest but he instead teases his fingers along her rib cage.

“Want to…..?” Harry copies her, he even tastes good like his rich, dry red wine that they had been drinking at dinner.

“Harry,” YN huffs out when he pulls back just an inch, “You know what I mean.”

Harry kisses once more before responding, “Tell me. Do you want me to touch you?”

YN nods eagerly, she wanted so bad to press their hips together to see if he was just as needy as she was but he was purposely not doing that, “Yes.”

“Where do you want my hands or maybe even my mouth?” His voice was unfairly raspy as he teases her with his words, his hands dancing upwards until he finally cups her breasts, “Here? I think you probably have the prettiest nipples I’ve ever seen? You want me to pinch them or suck at them until their puffy and hard?”

Fuck, YN’s never been so turned on in her life.

“I want that,” YN responds tightly as he kneads at her breasts for only a moment before his hands are trailing back down the length of her dress, “Please take me upstairs, Harry.”

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you beg, haven’t even told you what I’m going to do to your cunt,” He chuckles as his lips wander from hers to the hinge of her jaw where he drags his teeth across the thin skin, “I’m going to take such good care of you. Get you so ready for me that you’ll be crying on my fingers.”

“You’re all talk at this point,” YN points out but it doesn’t come off as bratty as she’d hope because of how breathless she is by now.

That’s all it takes to have Harry taking YN’s hand and leading her up the winding grand staircase to his bedroom - his room wasn’t overly decorated and was pretty simple with high ceilings and a bed that could easily fit five people.

Harry steps away from YN for a moment, going around the room and turning on the lights which illuminated the room in more of a romantic glow.

As he did, YN’s brain became a bit less hazy and the reality of what was about to happen sunk in, especially when Harry came over and murmurs, “Can I take this off of you?” As his fingers curled into the hem of her dress near her thighs.

And for some reason, all the insecurities and anxiety that she felt earlier about not being able to compare to the other women comes flashing into her mind but she finds herself nodding and saying, “Yes.”

Harry’s pulls the hem off the dress up slowly and in between kisses until YN is raising her arms up so that he can fully take it off of her, just leaving her in her lingerie that she bought off a cheap boutique online - nothing like what those models wore.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” Harry groans when he takes in her in just her bra and underwear, his eyes looking all over like they couldn’t decide one place to stay put but he is kissing her shoulder before he’s kneeling down in front of her.

That was sight that YN never wanted to forget, Harry down on his knees in front of her, his lips right at her belly and his strong hands moving behind her to knead at her backside.

She didn’t realize she was trembling until Harry pulls back with a frown.

YN wants to shout at him to come back when he stands back up and puts a foot of distance between them, “Are you sure you want to, pet? Your legs are shaking. I hope I haven’t made you feel pressured in anyway. I apol-“

And she wants to cry because that’s not it at all.

She instantly starts shaking her head in disagreement, interrupting him by putting her hand up, “No…I want to. I really want to and you haven’t pressured me one bit. I’m just…being stupid.”

Harry’s shoulders slump a bit in relief and he steps back over to her, his hands caressing over the caps of her shoulder blades, “If it’s not that than why are you shakin’ like a leaf, sweetheart?”

YN squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep inhale, deciding honesty is probably the best route in this situation, “I know I shouldn’t have but I googled you. And I just saw all these pictures of you leaving clubs and events with these models and…I know I don’t look anything like them and I’m not as sexy as them. I’m scared you’ll be disappointed with the experience.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment as he cradles her head in between his hands, his face is sincere and a bit sad when he tells her, “I’ve never liked someone like I like you. And this may sound crude or forward but I’ve never wanted to lay someone out and make them come as many times as they can like I want to do with you. I’ve never been more attracted to someone in my life.”

“Any person in the past five years that I’ve hooked up with have been nothing more than that. And in the past two years or so, I can't even remember the last time I’ve done that. I know you might not believe me but I haven’t been with anyone in quite some time. It stopped being fun when every single person I got with just wanted to use me for clout, popularity, bragging rights.”

“I believe you,” YN tells him, relief starting flooding into her body because he was so sincere and even though she was surprised that he was that he was so attracted to her, she believed him full heartedly.

“You act like you’re not drop dead gorgeous,”Harry frowns as he brushes a stray hair off of her forehead, “The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Never been able to look away from you since the first time you bumped into me.”

“I want you to do what you just said you wanted to do,” YN smiles with a shyness that is unusual for her, pressing herself up against him while he was still in his suit and now she was almost bare.

The delighted, hungry expression returns to Harry’s face when he hears that, taunting her as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, “Oh, remind me. What did I say, pet?”

But his lips were running down the column of her neck, his hands brushing the bra straps off her shoulders until they fell, and his lips taking their place.

“You’re such a tease,” YN accuses as she curls her fingers into his hair.

And YN’s never been teased like this, never had such buildup that wasn’t even foreplay yet, every other guy she’s been with - it had all been perfunctory and boring, predictable.

“S’not time to lay you out on m’bed yet,” Harry titters as his fingers come to her back, running along the band of her bra, and ghosting over the clasp, “Have to get to know your body first. Play with every single part of it and make sure you’ll never forget how good I’m going to make you feel.”

YN’s nearly sighs in relief when he finally slips the bra off, moving back to look at her, and she doesn’t even have a moment to feel self-conscious before he’s letting out an obscene moan at the sight, cupping them before moving down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth.

It was like he was starved for touch as he pulled at the nub between his teeth before lapping at it as his hand massaging at the neglected one, his fingers moving up to rub and pinch.

“Oh…fuck,” YN whines as she lets her head fall back, hair cascading down past her shoulders as she holds his head as close as possible to her and it’s never felt this good before when someone touched her chest.

Harry switches between the two, taking his time to languidly run his tongue over both of them after he pushes them together, and sucks at them with tight pressure.

YN’s never known that just her nipples being played with could make her aroused but she knew there had to be a damp spot on the front of her panties as Harry started walking them back towards the bed.

“That feels so good,” YN breathes at when he begins to nip at her buds, causing just the dullest pain pain that quickly melted into more pleasant sensation.

“Sweetheart, this is just the beginning. M’going have you crying with pleasure by the time I’m done with you,” Harry growls as YN’s knees hit the bed and she falls back, letting herself hit the fluffy comforter, “Do you like overstimulation?”

YN’s wriggles further onto the bed, bringing Harry with her by the hand wrapped around the nape of Harry’s neck, and tells him, “I don’t know.”

Harry pulls back from her tits, looking at her with a confused expression, “What do you mean? Do you like when someone makes you come more than once? Like when it almost feels too much.”

Oh god, she didn’t want to admit this.

“I…The guys I’ve been with have never made me come,” YN mumbles as she adverts her gaze up to the ceiling in humiliation for a moment before looking back down at Harry who’s resting his chin on her belly.

Harry’s face goes blank, a bit dumbfounded as he asks, “Are you fucking with me?”

“Stop,” YN giggles as she playfully kicks at him, “It’s embarrassing I know. I just haven’t been with anyone who’s been talented in that department, okay?”

Harry’s hand wraps around her ankle, a cocky smile coating his face, “Oh darlin’, m’going to show you my worth tonight. Now bend your knees for me.”

YN obliges, bending her knee, and watches as Harry kneels at the end of the bed - his button-up shirt was open for the most part, showing off his defined pectoral muscles and the butterfly that was inked below.

He moves his arms underneath her thighs which made it easier to pull her bum to the edge of the bed and he drapes her legs in the crooks of his elbows and her clothed core is right in front of him.

YN lays back and closes her eyes, just allowing herself to feel as she feels her stomach moves up and down quickly as she sucks in air, and she’s shaking now but it’s in pure anticipation for what’s to come.

She’s waiting for Harry to shimmy off her underwear but instead, Harry ducks forward and begins to kiss at her puffy mound and folds over the thin fabric.

YN tries to move her hips to get more but Harry keeps her in place, he moves down in the slightest and pushes in between her folds until he pushes the fabric is against her clit with his tongue.

“H, there,” YN murmurs softly as he begins to stroke at her with his tongue while his hands grip her bum and pull her further into his mouth as he makes the underwear sodden with her slick and his mouth.

It was overwhelmingly good to have the pressure on her bud like she’d never had before, her hands gripping the comforter that she was laying on.

YN lets out the most spoiled whine when Harry pulls his head back and he raises his eyebrow at her, he moves his one arm so that he can reach between them and put his thumb right on her clit where he gives her the most torturous, slow rubs he could.

“You’re a greedy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Harry hums as his free hand moves up to thumb at her pebbled nipples, “Already getting obsessed with my touch. Just like it should be, never let you leave my bed. You’re a fuckin’ slice of heaven.”

“I’m not greedy,” YN denies weakly as her hips push up to get more friction applied from his thumb to where she’s throbbing for him.

“You’re riding my thumb right now,” Harry chuckles meanly, biting at the skin of her belly hard enough to make her squeak, “Most greedy lil’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Harry keeps YN in this purgatory of pleasure and pure frustration for a good thirty minutes of switching between his mouth and thumb on her clit through her underwear.

She could feel hot tears prickling at the corner of her eyes because she wanted to come, she wanted him.

YN needed Harry and it seemed like she might die if she doesn’t in this moment even if it’s dramatic - she’s never craved anything like she’s craving his touch.

Harry catches it as soon as the first tear dribbles down her cheek, “Am I making you desperate, baby? M’not trying to be cruel. I’m just trying to prove to you that you should keep me around, y’know?”

What is he even talking about?

She’s definitely keeping him.

And she tells him so.

“Wh-why do you have to prove it? I’m keeping you, you’re mine,” YN gasps as he presses on her button just a little bit harder than before.

Harry preens at her words, “Say it again and I’ll make you come. Say it loud for me, pet.”

“You’re mine, Harry,” YN tells him again, voice louder and more confident, “You’re mine, please. Please need it.”

“Give you anything,” He murmurs, pleased as can be as he moves to the band of her panties and pulls them down her thighs until she’s bare.

He’s then helping her move up and to the center of the bed, splayed out with love bites all over her chest and belly, the sheen of his spit-slick kisses reflecting in the dim light.

Harry fucking finally relents when he burrows down between her thighs after shucking off his dress shirt and he uses two fingers to split her open to reveal what her puffy folds had been hiding.

“You’re going to make me come without even touching me,” Harry abdomishes as he stares at her, “How do you have the prettiest face, nipples, and cunt? It doesn’t make any sense, darling.”

YN felt like she was a rubber band about to snap, she couldn’t take anymore and she just needed him to do something because her orgasm has been building for the last half-hour.

“Please,” YN whispers quietly, it was pathetic and desperate but she let out a shutter from her sniffles - she’s never felt this good.

Harry pushes himself up to kiss her lips once before settling back down where he splits her folds open and gives her a firm, harsh lick from her core to clit.

His mouth stays there, pulling her clit between his lips and massaging it with his tongue while two of his thick fingers danced around her entrance before slowly tucking them up inside and curling forward.

YN came instantly, she swore she blacked out for a moment and saw stars but also felt a rush of fluid that she couldn’t figure out what is was until she finally comes back down to earth.

When YN sits up, she notices a small dark part of the comforter that was wet along with Harry’s face shining with slick.

“Oh my god,” YN gasps in horror as she realizes she not only just had her first orgasm from someone else but squirted on top of that.

Harry blinks up at her, he was just as surprised as he brought his hand back up where it was wet with her, “I’m not joking when I say that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And just like that, the humiliation is gone from her body and she’s giggling because he just looks so thrilled with himself.

She squeals excitedly when he pushes her back down and continues on, burying his face back between her legs.

When he licks at her sensitive, throbbing clit again - her legs kick out in reaction as pinpricks of overstimulation try to push Harry off.

But YN’s hand is wrapping up in his hair and keeping him down there.

She never had more than one orgasm at time, didn’t really know that she could, and she was shocked when she felt her next one building within a minute or two.

“Harry, I’m close again,” YN warns as her thighs begin to shake, she so badly wanted to close them around Harry’s head but his broad shoulders are prohibiting her from doing that.

“Come on, sweet girl,” Harry encourages in between suckles and laps, moving up to nip at the hood of clit to give her a spike of dull pain before soothing it with his tongue, “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh, she does.

YN’s back arches and she doesn’t care about being embarrassed anymore when she lets out a long, high-pitched whine, a sound she’s never made before as her chest heaves when her second orgasm comes barreling over her.

“Baby, s’good,” YN mewls, uncaring when the pet name slips even though Harry’s been using them constantly, and when she’s starting to come down from the second one, she gently leads Harry by the hair until he’s crawling up over her and their lips are meeting again.

YN’s not worried about being shy anymore, not after Harry just made her come like that, and so when she’s running her hand down his chest, tracing over the muscles of his stomach, she doesn’t stop until she’s palming him in his dress pants.

“Shit,” He gruffs in surprise, breaking their kiss for a moment, and moaning when she traces the outline of his cock where it’s ready to be freed from his confines.

YN manages to wriggle until Harry gets the picture and rolls off of her, onto his back where now he’s splayed out with his stomach sucking in, his ribs dancing against his skin on every breath in.

He’s body was incredible, the definition of his muscles from his pecs to his abdominals, all the way down to where there’s a sharp cut leading into the dress pants.

She had to get her mouth on him and had to give him a bit of the same treatment he gave her, she figured out quickly that he loved being bit and given lovebites.

YN works her way from his neck down his chest, stopping to give attention to his nipples which he was surprisingly reactive to - bucking his hips up when she dragged her teeth along them.

When she finally gets to the fine dusting of hair leading into his pants, YN unbuttons and zips them before beginning to tug them down his narrow hip.

At first, she was going to tease him but her eagerness to see him and so she’s peeling down his briefs too until he’s bare to her too - god, he was just as perfect here as well which shouldn’t be a surprise.

His cock was far bigger than anyone man she had even been with, by far, but it wasn’t initimating to her because she so desperately wanted it inside her.

It was thick and she never thought she’d describe a dick as pretty but it was, the pink tip was wet and his skins was smooth velvet as she ran her hand down the length of it.

There was a reason he had big dick energy.

And YN puffs out a breath of frustration when Harry pulls her back up right before she puts her mouth on him, he chuckles at her furrowed brow like a disgruntled puppy.

“Stop pouting,” Harry smooths out the wrinkle between her eyebrows, “I’m so hard for you, pet. I’ll come if you tease me and I want to get in you. I want to show you how good I can be for you.”

YN doesn’t regret it when she leans down and bits his shoulder, making him hiss before she’s grumps, “You teased me for nearly an hour and I can’t even touch you. S’not fair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Harry pouts out his bottom lip condescendingly, “I promise there will be many more times to come where I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

“You better keep that promise,” YN warns but she’s about as intimidating as a baby deer.

Harry lets out a throaty laugh as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “It’s not a hardship for me to promise you that you can have my cock whenever you want.”

He was filthy and YN was obsessed with it.

“Now need you to shush up,” Harry rumbles as he steadies YN where she’s sat across his thighs and sits up, scooting backwards until his back is against the headboard, “Gonna have you sit that pretty pussy on me. Gonna let you go as slow or fast as you want. Okay, baby?”

YN nods with a bit of nerves back in her as she straightens up and kneels further up until he’s bumping against her folds, she goes to reach to position him but Harry knocks her hand out of the way.

Harry presses forward until the plum tip of him parts her lips, finding her swollen clit and tapping himself against her which sends voltage shocks through her spine.

He paints himself down to her core, where he barely pushes in, YN’s stomach tense in anticipation before he’s moving back up to rub himself against her nerves.

She was so wet that there was soft noise as he teased, “Baby, do you hear how wet you are for me? Can’t believe how good you feel. Do you always get like this?”

YN shakes her head, swallowing dryly before telling him, “Never really got wet like this before. I, er, usually wasn’t enough other times and so they had to use lube.”

Harry’s expression is downright offended, “Nobody ever warmed you up, huh? Sounds like you’ve been with a bunch of chauvinistic pigs. I’ll always have you dripping down your thighs, pet.”

And she believes him.

YN’s still in a dazed state of his teasing when he doesn’t just push in a little but starts helping her sit down on him to finally get inside of her and god, she feels so full.

There’s no pain or stretch like she’s felt before with guys who were less endowed then him but he had gotten her so turned on and ready that there wasn’t anything but pure pleasure as he bottomed out .

He’s already nudging against an a livewired spot inside of her that she never felt before but knew was her g-spot, and his was just pressing on it by just being inside her.

“O-oh,” YN lets out a wanton moan as she begins grinding her hips, on every swivel her clit was bumping against the neatly trimmed hair on his pubic bone and the spot inside her being triggered by how thick and hard he was.

“That’s it, baby,” Harry sighs happily and he’s looking up at her with such awe before he’s pushing at the small of her back to get her upper body closer to his.

As she chases her own release, he’s kissing all over her, and it intimate as she’s ever been with someone as Harry just encourages her to make herself feel good with his body.

His lips are on her sternum, her belly, her shoulder, her face.

There was something about the way he kissed over her cheeks and jaw as she moans in pure ecstasy that made it romantic and made her feel closeness to her partner that she’d never felt before.

The soft whispers of encouragement against her temple as she got closer and closer to the edge, her thigh muscles were tired, “Please, H. Need you to make me feel good, please.”

And like that, Harry’s flipping them until YN’s splayed on her back once again, and he’s over top of her, his cross necklace tickling at her chest when props himself up on his elbows, either side of her head, and grinds his hips back into her.

YN can’t help but wrap her legs around Harry’s waist as he begins a steady rhythm of thrusts, leaning down to connect their lips together but YN can’t focus on it as she moans into his mouth.

“I need you to come f’me,” Harry pants lightly between pecks, his thrusts were becoming harder and he wasn’t pulling back as fast, “You’ve got me close, darling. Never had anyone feel so good on my cock.”

Harry doesn’t wait though, he’s going down on one arm to use his other to snake between their bodies to rub tight, purposeful circles on her bud until YN feels the band of tension snap and she’s digging her nails into his back as she comes for the third time.

And as soon as she does, Harry’s thrusting in twice more before stilling and letting out the sexiest, most filthy moan as he drops his head and let’s go, his moans were so low that YN didn’t even think his voice could get that deep and gravely like he’d been smoking.

YN’s become boneless, melting into the comfortable mattress, as she keeps her eyes shut - peaceful to feel the pinpricks of pain from overstimulation and how achey her thighs were from not usually using those muscles as much as she did tonight.

“Open your eyes f’me,” Harry murmurs softly after a moment, his thumb coming to sweep the drying tears off her cheeks and when YN whines in protest, he coos, “Just for a tick, darling. Look at me.”

YN blinks her eyes open, she’s exhausted and spent, and doesn’t feel like she could move if someone offered her a million dollars to do so as she meets Harry’s warm green eyes.

“I need to get you showered. M’not going to let you fall asleep all sticky and sweaty,” Harry titters as he begins to get off the bed, taking YN with him despite her weak whines of protest.

He coerces into his shower and YN was so tired that she couldn’t even appreciate that the shower head was on the ceiling and the water fell down like a rainforest storm.

YN stays leaned up against Harry, her head resting on his chest as he goes about lathering and massaging the shampoo into her hair with strong, magic fingers.

“Thank you,” YN mumbles after he washes out all the suds and moves onto scrubbing down her body, “I can clean myself.”

Harry stops where the washcloth is on her shoulder, “Do you not want me to do it?”

YN blinks rapidly again, coming back into focus, she dind’t want to offend him and she did want him too, “I do, it’s nice. I love it actually, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do all of this because we had sex.”

Harry frowns at her, “Have you never heard of aftercare?”

“I have I just thought that was for like crazy bondage or something.”

He chuckles with a shake of his head, “It is definitely important for people to do that but it’s also important anytime there’s intense sex. I’m not doing this because I feel obligated before we just slept together. I want to continue to take care of you, not just in the way of sex but because you’re important to me.”

“Do you do this with every girl?” YN asks out loud and maybe it wasn’t an appropriate question but she wasn’t going to judge if he said ‘yes’, it was pure curiosity.

Harry eyes dart to the side, his expression turning into a bit of guilt like he’s remembering other times, “No. I’ve never been great about it and some of the times I probably should have but just left. I…I can’t tell you enough how different you are than the rest.”

YN’s giggles when Harry’s resumes washing down her body, making her stomach as he wipes her underarms, “It was the best sex I’ve ever had. I look forward to having a lot more of it with you.”

He perks up with a cute hopeful expression, “Yeah? I…Do you think you would want to be exclusive with me?”

“As in we just date each other?” YN has to tease him a bit because of how he did the same to her earlier in the night.

Harry looks embarassed, “I wasn’t trying to -. If you don’t wan-“

“I’m just fucking with you. A little payback for earlier,” YN chuckles but Harry nips at her jaw meanly which makes her squeak, “Of course, I want that with you.”

“I promise I’ll be so good to you in every way,” Harry tells her sincerely as he washes the soapy residue from her body, “All make sure you’re taken care of. You can look forward much more sex in the future.”

❤️nine years later ❤️

“M’heart, what are you doin-“ Harry tries to question but he’s cut off by a harsh kiss as he’s being pushed backwards into a empty bathroom of a fancy museum where an event was being held in his honor.

YN’s breaks the kiss for only a moment to lock the door before her hands are going to his belt to start quickly undoing it as her lips nip and sucks at his jaw, leaving lipstick prints in their wake.

“What’s gotten into you?” Harry hums as he helps her unbutton his trousers, he was hard from the moment he realized he was being dragged into the loo for a quickie and so when she untucks his dress shirt his pants, he‘s plump and ready for her.

“The speech,” Is all YN utters before she has his briefs down to mid-thigh and she’s kneeling down in front of him, carefully in her designer dress to grip him firmly at the base and not hesitate to take him all the way down which she’s adores the surprised moan that comes from his chest without his permission.

The speech.

Harry had just been honored for the fifth year in the row with The United Kingdom’s Humanitarian of the Year Award because he had donated upwards a billion dollars to different charities and organizations, as well as having three successful charities of his own - one being in honor of Willow and her adoption.

He had gotten up on stage and began with the basic speech of what it means to donate and support causes all over the world, how the success of his business had led him to be this charitable, and how he encourages other billionaires to follow in his footsteps.

Then Harry went on to get a bit emotional when he thanks his wife and all three of his babies for making him a more charitable person, how he wouldn’t be anywhere without the love and support of YN, what a wonderful wife and mother she is, and how much he loves his three daughters.

Seeing Harry be such an amazing husband and father never failed to get YN wet for him.

It never went away after the first time that they shared a bed, that craving for Harry that made her stomach begin to churn with fiery arousal and lust for him.

She never failed to have her clenching her thighs together when Harry teased her, even just the little bit, and yes, it’s because they’re still wildly attracted to each other.

But she also thinks that it’s because they are so fucking in love with each other and she swears her undying love for him grows more everyday even if she thought that she couldn’t love him more.

And she knows Harry feels the same way.

From their first time, Harry’s promise had always stood, he never ever faltered to take care of her ever - he was always by her side during the good and bad times, he loved her so deeply that it couldn’t be put in to words.

Harry always made her feel like enough, she never worried about leggy models or not fitting the image that most expected because Harry never gave her a moment to doubt it.

After nine years, he was still trying to get in her pants anytime she would let him - he could be dominant and assertive which turned her on to no end but she also fucking loved it when he was pliant and let her boss him around.

“The speech, huh?” Harry repeats but he nearly chokes on the last syllable when her nose brushes into the hair of his pubic bone before she’s pulling back to take a deep breath, “Darling, your mouth is so pretty around my cock.”

YN is truly Harry’s match. Harry loves to tease. It never stopped after the first date, he loved to build anticipation by edging, and YN realized it was just as much fun to return the favor.

They really don’t have time for it right now because Harry’s the man of the night and all eyes are on him but right now, he’s nowhere to be found after his thank you speech.

She’s has a firm grip on his base as she suckles at tip, doe eyes blinking up at him as she seems in no rush to move things along, pulling back to run her tongue on the underside of him.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have time for this,” Harry warns but he’s struggling to keep his eyes open because even just the small kitten licks feel like heaven and just to keep him on his toes, she’s occasionally taking him all the way down, “Can drool over my cock when we get home. We have the house to ourselves tonight.”

And when YN ignores him, Harry knows what she wants, and it makes a sharp thrill pump through his veins, he reaches down and knots his hand in her hair and tugs, “I said enough. Are you that cock hungry?”

YN begins to pick up her pace which is a telltale sign that the dirty talk is working, and that she doesn’t want him to stop, so he doesn’t, adding in that same raspy tone, “You are so fuckin’ spoiled. Can’t stand anyone else given me attention, got to pull me into a bathroom and get me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t say anything about you fucking me,” YN bites back because now she’s in full brat mode but she’s still standing back up when Harry gives her hair another tug.

“No? So if I put my hand under your dress you won’t be dripping down your thighs?” Harry coos but his hand is already hiking up the skirt of her dress and the moment his fingers brush over the front of her mound, he can feel how damp she is, “S’cute that after all this time you get soaked for me like the first time I fucked you.”

YN mewls when he tugs her panties to the side to tuck two fingers up, Harry’s trying to get her to beg, he loved turning the tables when she came in bossy but left a crybaby.

He pets right at her spot and he can feel her tense, a telltale sign that she was going to come soon, and so he pulls out his fingers to suck them in between his own lips, “I wish I had enough time to lick in to you. I guess you’ll just have to make do with my cock.”

“Come on, now please, baby,” YN grumbles as he lifts her up to put her bum on the sink counter, pushing the dress up around her hips, and pinning the underwear to the side.

“Tell me you love me and I’ll fuck you, m’heart,” Harry hums as he pumps himself, he was so ready for her, and he rests the tip right at where she’s hot for him - his hips twitched in anticipation.

“I love you so much,” YN whines but it’s sincere, leaning up to kiss him before adding, “The best husband and father of my babies I could ask for. I just want you, H. Want you all the time.”

Harry melts a little at her sweet words, the dominance in his voice fading as he pushes in, moving to cup her jaw, and he brushes his nose against hers - far too intimate for this setting.

“I couldn’t love anymore than I love you,” He whispers against her lips, “I fuckin’ live for you. Everyday I wake up and wonder what the fuck I did to deserve you. I want you now and for forever, you’re mine, the love of my life.”

And YN thinks back to when she was nervous, shaking like a leaf in front of the same man because she was so intimidated by him - she’s now married to him and has three children with, how she didn’t think she was worthy.

To know having that same man smattering kisses over her cheeks and nose to make her giggle while he cleans her up in a tiny bathroom after having a quickie that they really shouldn’t have because he’s the man of the night.

She knew she picked right.

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sirfrogsworth · 18 days

Text

Let's talk about vintage lenses.

Here is your cool samurai show with modern lenses.

Here is your cool samurai show with vintage lenses.

Hollywood is no stranger to fads.

We are currently in the middle of a "make everything too dark" fad. But that fad is starting to overlap with "let's use really old lenses on ridiculously high resolution cameras."

This is Zack Snyder with a Red Monstro 8K camera.

He is using a "rehoused" vintage 50mm f/0.95 Canon "Dream Lens" which was first manufactured in 1961.

This old lens is put inside a fancy new body that can fit onto modern cameras.

Which means Zack is getting nowhere near 8K worth of detail. These lenses are not even close to being sharp. Which is fine. I think the obsession with detail can get a bit silly and sometimes things can be "too sharp."

But it is a funny juxtaposition.

The dream lens is a cool lens. It has character. It has certain aberrations and defects that can actually be beneficial to making a cool photograph. It's a bit like vinyl records for photography.

[ Peter Thoeny ]

It has vignetting and distortion and a very strange swirly background blur.

[ Gabriel Binder ]

Optical engineers have been spending the last 60 years trying to eliminate these defects. And I sometimes wonder if they are confused by this fad.

"I WORKED 70 HOURS PER WEEK TO GET PERFECT CORNER SHARPNESS!"

And whether you prefer to work with a perfect optic or a vintage one... it is a valid aesthetic decision either way. I think vintage glass can really suit candid natural light photography. You can almost get abstract with these lenses.

[ Peter Theony ]

Personally I like to start with as close to perfect as possible and then add the character in later. That way I can dial in the effect and tweak how much of it I want. But even with modern image editing tools, some of these aberrations are difficult to recreate authentically.

That said, it can be very easy for the "character" of these lenses to become distracting. And just like when someone first finds the lens flares in Photoshop, it can be easy for people to overdo things.

Zack Snyder decided to be his own cameraman and used only vintage glass in his recent movies and it has led to some complaints about the imagery.

I mean, Zack Snyder overdoing something? I can't even imagine it.

Non camera people felt Army of the Dead was blurry and a bit weird but they couldn't quite explain why it felt that way.

The dream lens has a very wide aperture and it lets in a lot of light. But it also has a very very shallow depth of field. Which means it is very difficult to nail focus.

[ Peter Thoeny ]

Her near eye is in focus and her far eye is soft. You literally can't get an entire face in focus.

There is no reason you have to use the dream lens at f/0.95 at all times. But just like those irresistible lens flares, Zack couldn't help himself.

Here is a blueprint that you can't really see.

Extreme close ups of faces without autofocus at f/0.95 is nearly impossible to pull critical focus on.

Looks like Zack nailed the area just above the eyebrow here.

Let's try to find the point of focus in this one.

Ummmm... she is just... blurry. Missed focus completely.

But Zack isn't the only one going vintage. I've been seeing this a lot recently.

Shogun is a beautiful show. And for the most part, I really enjoyed the cinematography. But they went the vintage lens route and it kept going from gorgeous to "I can't not see it" distracting. And perhaps because I am familiar with these lens defects I am more prone to noticing. But I do think it hurt the imagery in a few spots.

Vingetting is a darkening of the corners of the frame.

Light rays in the corners are much harder to control. A lot of modern lenses still have this problem, but they create software corrections to eliminate the issue. Some cameras do it automatically as you are recording the image.

Vintage lenses were built before lens corrections where a thing—before software was a thing. So you either have to live with them, try to remove them with VFX, or crop into your image and lose some resolution.

It's possible this is the aesthetic they wanted. They felt the vignetting added something to the image. But I just found my eyes darting to the corners and not focusing on the composition.

And then you have distortion.

In this case, barrel distortion.

This is mostly prominent in wide angle lenses. In order to get that wider field of view the lens has to accept light from some very steep angles. And that can be quite difficult to correct. So you kind have to sacrifice any straight lines.

And sometimes this was a positive contribution to the image.

I thought the curved lines matched the way they were sitting here.

But most of the time I just felt like I was looking at feudal Japan through a fish's eye.

It's a bit more tolerable as a still, but when all of these verticals are bowing in motion, I start to feel like I am developing tunnel vision.

I love that this is a tool that is available. Rehousing lenses is a really neat process and I'm glad this old glass is getting new life.

This documentary shows how lens rehousing is done and is quite fascinating if you are in to that sort of thing.

youtube

But I think we are in a "too much of a good thing" phase when it comes to these lenses. I think a balance between old and new can be found.

And I also think maybe Zack should see what f/2.8 looks like. He might like having more than an eyebrow in focus.

#photography #cinematography #lenses #vintage lenses #shogun #long post

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punkshort · 5 months

Text

look what we've become - ch.4

Chapter Summary: You finally get a chance to talk things out with Joel, but when you volunteer to take Ellie back to her family, it causes more tension.

Chapter Warnings: language, talk of parental death, discussions of pregnancy and marriage, brief mention of slavery, angst, Ellie being a cockblock, Joel is a little mean at the very end

WC: 8K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was the end of August, and it felt like the summer saved the worst for last. The heat from the sun laid over the town like a thick blanket, making it nearly difficult to breathe when you were working, forcing you to take more breaks than usual. Working outside in the garden attached to the greenhouse was actually more comfortable than being inside the building itself, the humidity so stifling you could almost reach out and touch it, but you still chose to take your breaks inside. Right in front of the little oscillating fan. Pulling your hair off your neck, you ran a damp cloth across your neck and chest, collecting all the sweat that had accumulated there as the weak breeze from the fan dried your skin.

You were alone at work all week. A bitter part of you thought it fitting, considering how lonely you felt at home, too. But it afforded you a lot of time to think. And cry. But eventually, the tears stopped, your body too depleted and your head too sore to keep it up. Now all that was left was the loneliness and the guilt. The more you replayed that day in your mind, the worse you felt. The look on his face and the way he tried to hold back his tears haunted you at every turn. The pain in his voice, pain that you caused, unforgettable.

And you deserved it, the way he left. You deserved so much worse. He did so much for you, and this was how you repaid him? He saved you, time and time again. He found Jackson, he built you a home, built you a life. And he hardly asked for anything in return.

It shouldn't have come to this. You should have been an adult, talked to him before it was too late, discussed your plans for the future. But how could you be expected to, when you lived in a world where a future was hardly a guarantee?

It surprised you that he even wanted anything to do with you after that night. That he even bothered to ask if you still wanted him, shocked he would still want you. Of course, you told him you wanted him. You did want him. You loved him more than anything, but you didn't feel deserving of him. Not after the way you treated him. He deserved so much better.

And you felt so fucking selfish for keeping him. For breaking his heart, and then begging him to stay.

You promised yourself you were going to talk to him when he returned. That is, if he even wanted to talk. To tell him everything, put it all on the table and let him decide. You owed him that much.

When Jesse and Jake returned without him, your heart sank. You thought the worst. Standing at the gate with Maria on your one side and Carrie on the other, waiting for him to appear. Maria thought the worst, too. You felt it when she clutched your hand, after Carrie ran to hug Jake and you both watched them joyfully reunite, neither of you wanting to ask, afraid of the answer. To his credit, Jesse told you the story the moment he made his way through the small crowd of welcomers, instantly flooding you with relief.

It was really only a minute, maybe two, where you thought you lost him. The last conversation you had wouldn't be the last words he heard from you. But for that minute or two, your world stopped, you forgot how to breathe, and your only thought was - my life is over, I can't go on, I'll never experience a shred of happiness again.

So, yes. When he came home, you needed to do whatever you possibly could to fix the wound you caused. Because what you had was worth fighting for.

You stood, mustering the energy to get through the next couple hours before you could head back home when the greenhouse door swung open and shut very quickly, taking you off guard. You glanced up, not noticing anyone at first, and wondered if you imagined it before you saw the top of a girl's head bobbing along one of the aisles slowly, admiring the various plants and flowers that were so tall at this point in the season, it resembled a jungle.

"Hello?" you called out, craning your neck down the aisle. You made eye contact with the girl, one you didn't recognize, and she froze, staring at you with eyes widened, clearly not expecting anyone to be in the building.

Frowning, you began to walk towards her, but stopped when she looked like she was ready to bolt back out the door.

"It's alright," you said, holding your hands up to her. "What's your name?"

Her gaze shifted back and forth quickly between your eyes, examining you carefully before answering.

"Ellie."

"Hi, Ellie. Are you- is your mom or dad around?" you asked, lowering your hands. She shook her head.

"They're dead," she replied flatly, and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "Mine are, too."

She looked at you differently now, more with curiosity than fear. Taking a couple steps forward, with her finger trailing gently along the plants that hung over the side of the tables, she came closer to the end of the aisle, where you stood in front of your workstation.

"Yeah?" she asked, and you nodded. "Before or after?"

"After," you told her.

"Mine, too," Ellie replied, her voice laced with sadness.

You stared at one another for a few moments, both wondering what the other was going to do next. You knew Ellie didn't belong there, that she was trying to hide, and she knew you figured that out already.

"It really fucking sucked," you finally said, and her eyes lit up, the corners of her mouth turning up into a small smile before replying.

"Yeah, it did really fucking suck," she said, and you both giggled simultaneously.

You were about to offer her some water, noting she was wearing long sleeves on such a hot day, when the door burst open once again, startling you both. Tommy pushed inside and glanced around, his eyes immediately landing on Ellie, and his shoulders sagged with relief.

"In here!" Tommy called out through the open door. And it all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to process that if Tommy was home, then so was-

"Joel," you said softly to yourself when your eyes fell on his familiar, broad frame entering the building. He looked at you first before allowing his gaze to drift to Ellie, his brow furrowing with annoyance, then back to you. You swallowed roughly, and you heard Ellie curse under her breath next to you.

"Oh, great," she muttered, and you tore your eyes away from him to look at her now, for the first time putting the pieces together. This must be the girl Jesse told you they were taking to another camp in exchange for medicine.

"What're you thinkin', runnin' off like that?" Tommy said to Ellie, walking down the aisle towards her. You could feel Joel's eyes on you from where he stood by the door as you looked at Tommy questioningly.

"What's going on?" you asked. "I thought Jesse said you were taking her to another settlement?"

"Change of plans," was all Tommy offered, reaching his arm out and motioning for Ellie to step forward and follow him.

"She's staying?"

"Not for long," Joel finally said as he narrowed his eyes at Ellie.

"C'mon, you can stay with one of the teachers in town til we can get you back home," Tommy told her, sounding tired. Ellie followed behind Tommy slowly, admiring the plants as she walked.

"You're taking her back to her home?" you asked, following behind them.

"Yeah, no thanks to Joel," she said with a sneer as she walked by him. He rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, allowing Tommy and Ellie to exit.

"Will you two give it a rest? Goddamn, enough is enough," Tommy said, sounding like he was scolding two children. But before you could ask more questions, they were gone, leaving just you and Joel.

You looked at him, your fingers nervously fidgeting, tangling together. Now that he was right in front of you, you realized you had no idea what you were going to say. No rehearsed speech. And the way he looked at you in that moment made you feel like you kicked a puppy, his big, brown eyes wide with lingering pain, and the knot in your stomach tightened. Taking a shaky breath in, you straightened your posture, trying to summon some confidence, but failing.

"Did'ya move out?" he asked, breaking the silence, fists flexing at his sides.

"What?" you asked softly, your brows knit. "No, of course not." He exhaled loudly, like he had been holding his breath waiting for your answer.

"Do you... want me to?" you asked him, casting your eyes down to your feet, unable to look him in the eye if the answer was yes.

"No," he said simply, and you nodded, relief washing over you, eyes still glued to the floor.

The heat was becoming unbearable in the greenhouse now that you weren't directly in front of the fan. You dragged your eyes back up to Joel and noticed his shirt was already damp and his face was flushed, sweat trickling from his hairline down the side of his head.

"I have a couple more hours here, but after, did you want to talk?" you asked, chewing on your lip. He stared at you, his eyes wide, jaw tense, body rigid, and he nodded. Other than still looking hurt, he was impossible to read.

"Okay," you said softly, looking away and turning to pick up your bucket of tools and gloves from the ground. When you straightened back up, you were shocked to feel his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your tools in favor of circling your arms around his waist. You inhaled deeply, missing everything about him: his scent, his warmth, his touch, his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, you could feel it fluttering against your cheek, and you squeezed him even tighter, not even caring about the heat anymore.

His arms loosened and you opened your eyes again, allowing him to take a step back so you could look up at him.

"Joel," you whispered, reaching a hand up to his jaw, but he took another step backwards, clearing his throat.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, then quickly pushed the door open, disappearing and leaving you all alone with your heart stuck in your throat and tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He was relieved when he finally made his way home and confirmed with his own eyes that you didn't move your things out of the house. Back when he hurt Jake, he came home to find you in the middle of packing all your things, leaving him in agony for four excruciating months.

Dropping his gear by the front door, he dragged himself up the steps, wincing at the pain in his back and hips from the past several days on horseback, until he reached the shower. The heat from the water helped the ache in his bones, but he still popped two ibuprofen. He hardly slept well on these trips, his body not used to sleeping on the forest floor anymore, so the urge to collapse into bed was strong, but he fought it.

He wandered down to the kitchen in search of food, and finding some leftovers in the fridge, ate over the sink as he stared out the window, his mind reeling. He spent the entire trip wondering what was going through your head, and he was determined to find out.

Pacing around the house, he spent the rest of the afternoon trying to stay busy, trying not to let his anxiety squeeze his chest like it used to. His panic attacks had gotten much better over the past couple years, but he still had moments here and there that brought him to his knees. Usually, you were there to help, to talk him through it. To help ground him.

When you arrived home, he had your kitchen table upside down, the four legs sticking straight up in the air with tools scattered on the floor around him. His back was hunched over as he twisted a screwdriver into the wood firmly with a grunt, then sat back on his heels to give the leg a shake, testing for any movement before standing up with a sigh. Turning around, he froze when he realized you had been leaning up against the wall, quietly watching him work.

"Didn't hear you come in," he said, scooping down to collect his tools and putting them back in his toolbox, one by one.

"What are you doing?" you asked him, and you could feel your pulse quickening as your nerves settled in.

"Fixin' the table, been wobbly for weeks," he muttered, and you nodded as if you had any clue what he was talking about, fairly certain that he was just looking for something to do to occupy his time. He locked his toolbox and put it on one of the kitchen chairs before running his fingers through his hair roughly and turning back around to face you.

"Is it me?" he asked bluntly, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"No!" you told him immediately, and pushed off the wall to close the gap, about to reach out to him, but hesitated. "It's absolutely not you," you confirmed again.

"Then what is it?" he demanded, chest rising and falling faster than normal as he stared at you, his forehead crinkled with worry.

"It's me," you said with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious. "I'm scared, Joel."

"What's there to be scared about?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his hands itching to reach out and hold you, to prove there was nothing to fear.

"Everything!" you said, exasperated. "Look around! We barely survived this, and who knows what tomorrow will bring. But to have a baby? A helpless, little baby who doesn't understand they need to be quiet if we are in danger, who wouldn't have access to the medical care you and I had when we were little-"

"These new people have tons of medicine," he told you, shaking his head. "Whatever a baby would need, I can get."

"Okay, fine. But the rest, Joel... if we had a baby and something happened to this place... to us-" your voice caught in your throat at the thought of a baby being orphaned, all alone and scared. Then your mind drifted to your conversation with Ellie, the perfect example of a child abandoned, left to depend on strangers to take care of her.

It seemed as though Joel either made the same connection, or finally understood your fears, because he sighed and hung his head.

"Alright," he agreed, shoulders sagging.

"Joel, if a child is something you really want, it's not fair for me to stop you from doing that," you said, blinking away the tears.

"I don't want a kid unless it's with you!" he said angrily, turning away so he could pace around the kitchen. "Quit sayin' shit like that."

"I'm sorry," you said softly, sitting down weakly in one of the kitchen chairs, staring at your hands in your lap. He sighed and stopped pacing, choosing instead to brace his hands on the kitchen island, staring at you from across the room.

"It's fine," he said unconvincingly.

"No, it's not," you said, looking up and calling out his lie. You could see the tension in his jaw from where you sat across the room, a muscle twitching under his patchy beard.

"No, it's not," he echoed in agreement. "But I'll get over it."

You weren't sure what to say after that. Part of you wanted to tell him again that he deserved everything he wanted out of life, and you felt so selfish for not feeling the same way, but you knew he would get angry if you suggested it again. So you remained silent, letting him work through his thoughts while you waited.

"And marriage?" he asked after a few minutes, trying to keep the hurt from his voice.

"I think I just need some time," you told him, feeling guilty enough for denying him a family.

"Okay," he said, looking down at his hands splayed on the counter. His face relaxed as he audibly exhaled, and you could tell your answer gave him a bit of relief.

"Are you sure it's okay?" you asked timidly, and he glanced back up at you.

"Yes," he said, pushing off the counter and rounding the island. He crouched down in front of you, still seated on the kitchen chair haphazardly placed in the middle of the room, the kitchen table still upturned. Taking your hands in his, he gave them a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this," he told you softly, and you pressed your lips in a thin line to keep them from trembling.

"You promise?" you asked shakily, eyes watering, and he nodded.

"Promise," he said firmly. He reached up, fingers pinching your chin gently as you stared at one another before he tugged your face forward, pressing his lips softly against yours. You could tell he was trying, but you didn't feel the usual heat behind the kiss. It felt mechanical and distant, but when he pulled back, you forced a small smile, anyway.

Maybe you both just needed some time.

Tommy didn't waste any time. The very next day after arriving back in Jackson, he began to organize a group of men to go raid the neighboring police stations for guns and weapons, Joel included. The plan was to only be gone for one night, maybe two, which wasn't too bad, but considering the fragile state of your relationship, it made you uneasy.

You both went through the motions of your typical routine. Getting ready for work at the greenhouse while he repacked his bag with fresh clothes and food. The morning he left, he walked you to work like he normally would, neither of you hardly saying a word, both trying not to acknowledge the ripple of tension between you. He gave you a quick kiss, told you he would miss you, you told him to be safe, and you each went your separate ways.

You wished you had more time together before he had to leave again, maybe it would have made you feel better. Less anxious, less distracted, less questions. The first morning was spent rethinking everything the two of you said, every interaction. And you tried not to dwell on the fact that, for the first time in a very long time, you woke up without his arms around you. Instead, he was curled up on his side of the bed, not even facing your direction. So, when Ellie found her way back into the greenhouse that afternoon, you were grateful for the distraction.

"Hey," she said softly behind you, causing you to jump.

"Ellie! Hey, what are you up to?" you asked her, standing up with a grunt. You had been hunched over for too long, as evidenced by your spine crackling when you stretched.

"Nothing really," she said, glancing around at the plants. You noticed once again that she was wearing a long sleeved shirt.

"Did Julia offer you any new clothes?" you asked with a frown.

"Yep."

"Aren't you hot?"

"A little," she said with a shrug, and you decided to drop it when it became clear she wasn't going to offer more of an explanation.

The two of you spent the next couple hours occasionally chatting, but mostly sitting in a comfortable silence while you worked. Ellie would watch you and ask if you needed help, and to make her feel useful, you would ask her to get you a watering can, or a certain tool. She seemed to enjoy helping, noticing she became more relaxed as the afternoon wore on.

"You know, you're staying right across the street from my house," you told her as you began cleaning up.

"I know," she said, and you looked up at her, surprised.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I saw you come home yesterday," she said, perched on top of your workstation, legs swinging back and forth.

"Oh. Why didn't you say anything?" you asked as you lifted your apron over your head to hang on the wall.

"Dunno. You seemed like you were in a rush."

She was perceptive. She didn't offer much about herself, but she seemed to read people very well. A byproduct of the last few years of her life, most likely.

"I know all this must be confusing for you," you said, leaning up against the workstation, crossing your arms. "But you can stop by my house anytime, alright? If you need anything, or just want to come hang out. Here, too. If you want."

"Yeah, okay," she said quickly, a small smile spreading across her face. "Thanks."

"You wanna walk with me back home?" you asked her, and she nodded, slipping down from the table and bouncing alongside you as you walked out of the building and back into the sweltering heat.

"How's it going over at Julia's?"

"It's fine," Ellie replied, kicking a small stone as you walked up the street together. "She's nice. But..."

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, waiting for her to continue.

"She's old. And she's a little boring. Gave me a bedtime like I'm some little kid and made me say my prayers before dinner," she said.

"How old are you, anyway?" you inquired, realizing you never asked before.

"Almost fourteen."

"Yeah, that's a little old for a bedtime," you said, nodding in agreement as you approached your house. You stopped in the middle of the road, expecting Ellie to say her goodbyes and head over across the street, but she hesitated.

"You wanna grab dinner with me?" you asked her, and she looked up at you with a grin, nodding enthusiastically. You smiled back and jutted your chin towards Julia's house.

"Go tell her I'm taking you to the dining hall, I just want to change real quick and I'll meet you back out here."

"Okay!" Ellie replied, looking the most excited you'd seen her since you met.

After you cleaned yourself up, you stepped out of your door to find Ellie pushing herself back and forth on your swing at the end of the wraparound porch.

"Having fun?" you teased, and she jumped off the swing, sticking the landing and trotting over to you.

"Yeah, your house is really cool," she said, following you down the steps as you made your way to the center of town.

"Thanks. Joel built it for me. Well, the swing and porch, anyway."

"Joel?" she said questioningly, her nose scrunching up.

"Yeah, he was with the group-"

"I know who he is," she said, cutting you off and casting her eyes down to her feet. "Are you guys married or something?"

"Uh, no," you said, ignoring the fluttering in your chest. "But we're together."

"Oh," she said quietly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. He just doesn't seem to like me much," she said with a shrug, but you could tell she was trying to put on a brave face.

"I'm sure that's not true. He doesn't even know you," you said, walking up the steps to the Tipsy Bison.

"Don't think that matters," she mumbled. "He didn't want to bring me here. Wanted to take me back to them."

Joel had briefly told you about Ellie's history with the Fireflies the night before, that Ellie was forced into slavery, but he failed to mention his own opinions about her.

"He's a good man. He's just got a lot going on lately," you said, hoping to leave it at that. Ellie eyed you curiously, but let it go, flopping down in a chair at an empty table, head swiveling around the room to check out all the people while you went to the bar to place an order with Seth. When you came back with your food, the dining room had grown more crowded, most of the tables already filled. Ellie's eyes lit up when you placed the tray of food down in front of her.

"Thanks! This place is so fucking cool," she said before digging into her food like it was her last meal.

"Yeah, we are really lucky," you agreed.

"Were you here when this place was built?" she asked you around a mouthful of food.

"Not at first," you said, then proceeded to tell her a bit of your own story. How you and Joel knew each other before the outbreak and you traveled across the country to try to find Tommy, never expecting to find him in the town you now called home. She nodded along eagerly, hanging on your every word and asking questions along the way. You chose to leave out a few parts to your story that a child shouldn't have to hear about, focusing more on how you both survived and depended on one another for safety, instead.

"Was he a dick before the outbreak, too?" she asked you after she had long finished up her dinner.

"Ellie!" you scolded her, but you smirked. "Actually... he was worse," you said, and you both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"No, seriously, he's not that bad. He comes off like he's all tough, but deep down he's a softie," you said. "There's a whole other side to him that's just..." you trailed off, your eyes glued to the table as you thought about Joel.

"Just what?" she asked, urging you to continue.

"Just really good. He's loving, and sweet, and caring. He would do anything for this town, puts himself at risk all the time, expects nothing in return," you said, realizing you were rambling, but Ellie didn't seem to mind. "I'm really lucky to have him."

Ellie looked at you for a few moments, studying your face as you struggled to hide your feelings. Rehashing everything that you love about Joel just made you feel even worse, wishing for the millionth time that you weren't so selfish, that you could give him what he wanted.

"You guys have been through some shit, huh?" she said, and you looked back up at her. Very perceptive.

"Yeah," you said softly, and that was all she needed to hear.

"Alright, then," she said dramatically, standing up from the table. "I guess I could give him another chance. For you."

"How generous of you," you joked, standing up as well and leading her to the exit. "If history is any indicator, Joel tends to need a couple chances before people start to like him."

You both laughed as you headed back down the street, the sun beginning to dip lower behind the houses. Ellie was in the middle of telling you about a comic book she was reading, enthusiastically acting out her favorite parts of the story, when you finally made it back home.

"Okay, kid. You should probably get home. It's close to your bedtime," you teased, and she scoffed at your joke, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, I guess I'll have to pick up where I left off tomorrow," she said, begrudgingly heading across the street to Julia's house.

And that was exactly what she did. You had been in the greenhouse for all of ten minutes before the door swung open and Ellie burst in, this time with her comic book in hand so she could read it out loud to you while you worked.

The entire second day Joel was gone, you spent with Ellie. You told her odd pieces of information about Jackson, she would read or quietly draw your plants on some crumpled loose leaf paper she had stuffed in her backpack, never really giving away much information about her own history. But you didn't mind. You knew if she ever wanted to share, she would do it in her own time. You just wondered how much time the two of you would have left.

Joel arrived back in Jackson early on the third day. You were surprised to hear your front door open as you were making yourself a quick breakfast in the kitchen.

"Hey, you're up early," you called over your shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"Already ate," Joel's deep voice rumbled somewhere behind you, and you spun around in surprise.

"You're back," you said, trying to get your bearings.

"Who'd you think it was?" he asked, dropping his backpack on top of the kitchen table.

"Ellie," you said, turning back to the stove to shuffle your eggs around in the pan.

"The kid?" he asked you, and you nodded.

"Yeah, she's been keeping me company the past couple days. She's really funny and smart," you said, turning the stove off and sliding your food onto a plate. You walked over to him, taking in his dirty clothes and face. Setting your plate down on the table, you took a step closer and hooked a finger into one of his beltloops. It wasn't lost on you that he neglected to greet you in his normal fashion. Accustomed to him wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a searing kiss, minimally.

"How'd it go?" you asked quietly, staring up at him, trying to read his face.

"Good," he said gruffly, seemingly unphased by your hand so close to his belt. "Got the guns. Tommy's gonna organize another trip back to the Fireflies to drop 'em off, tell 'em the kid ran off, and hope they let us keep the meds."

"Does that mean you're leaving again?" you asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

"No, he's gonna send some other guys. Said we earned a break," he said. His hands that would normally be all over you were shoved deep in his pockets.

"That's good, you need to relax," you said, bringing another finger up to hook into a beltloop. You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach up and give him a soft kiss, one which he returned, but didn't deepen.

"You gotta get to work?" he mumbled, tipping his chin down to break the kiss. You shook your head.

"Day off," you whispered, trying to sound suggestive. "I can help you relax, if you want," you added. You felt nervous, your heart thumping loudly in your chest, not sure what he was thinking and afraid of being shot down.

He finally dragged his gaze back to you, and you swore you saw a familiar glint of lust flash across his dark eyes. You held your breath, waiting for him to say something, anything, to make you feel less exposed.

"Maybe later. I gotta clean up," he said. You deflated a bit, but noticed he hadn't attempted to move away, so you tried again.

"I don't mind. I like it when you're dirty," you said, sinking your teeth into your lower lip, and that seemed to do the trick. His nostrils flared and he took a deep breath, his eyes falling to your lips. And finally, he dragged his hands out of his pockets to reach down and cup your ass, pulling you against him roughly with a grunt. You gasped when you felt the hard outline of his cock pressed against your stomach, then hungrily covered his mouth with yours, your tongue swirling around his as your hands left his belt to grip the dark curls at the base of his neck.

"Missed you," he mumbled against your mouth before greedily making his way to your neck, his fingertips digging into the plumpness of your ass.

"Me, too," you whispered, closing your eyes and tipping your head to the side, giving him better access.

"Ew, gross," you heard Ellie say, startling you both. You jumped away but Joel strategically stayed behind you, adjusting himself when Ellie wasn't looking.

"Whaddya want?" Joel asked roughly with a frown. Ellie plopped herself down in front of your abandoned plate of eggs and took a forkful before screwing her face up into a grimace.

"These are cold," she said, but continued to shovel more in her mouth, anyway.

"Good morning to you, too," you said to her before walking back over to the stove, heating up the pan to make more food.

"Morning," Ellie replied, mouth full of eggs.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to chew with your mouth closed?" Joel asked her, arms crossed over his chest. "Or to knock before bargin' into stranger's homes?"

"Nope," Ellie said with a smirk, and let her jaw fall open so Joel could see even more of her partially digested food. He made a face and rolled his eyes.

"Lovely," he said sarcastically, looking away.

"Besides, she's not a stranger," Ellie said, nodding in your direction. You smiled to yourself, your back to the pair of them, pleased that the girl found a friend in you after all she had been through.

Joel sighed and dropped his arms to his sides as he headed towards the stairs.

"I'm gonna go wash up, then we gotta meet Tommy and Maria at the town hall," he told you. You frowned, turning away from your eggs.

"What for?"

"Informal council meeting. To figure out how to get this one out of here," Joel replied, shooting a look at Ellie. Her chewing paused as she looked back and forth between you and Joel.

"Oh. Right," you said with a nod as he headed up the stairs, the bedroom door shutting behind him.

"You're on the town council?" Ellie asked, and you shrugged, turning the burner off for the second time and sliding your eggs onto a new plate.

"Guess I am now," you said, and joined her at the table. You both chewed thoughtfully while you heard the shower turn on upstairs, right above your heads.

"What if I wanted to stay?" she asked you quietly, staring down at her eggs.

"I don't know, Ellie," you said with a sigh. You had a feeling this was coming.

"Can you try to convince them?" she asked you earnestly, looking up at you now. "If you're on the council, maybe you can tell them to let me stay."

You chewed on your lip, trying to figure out how to handle the delicate situation.

"It's complicated," you said. "They are lying to those people to protect you. If the Fireflies ever found out, it could be really bad."

She nodded solemnly and looked back down at her plate briefly before shoving it away and standing up.

"I should go," she said, avoiding your gaze as she headed toward the door. You stood up to follow her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," you said, and you really were. You didn't want to tell her that you wanted her to stay just as badly, that you didn't have any power to make that wish come true, that you were just another adult who failed her.

"It's fine, I'm used to it," she said over her shoulder as she swung the door open. "Thanks for breakfast," she added, jogging lightly down the steps and shoving her hands in her pockets as she headed back across the street.

You sat quietly at the conference table while Tommy went over the plan to return Ellie to her family. Someone must have asked her where she was from, because Tommy had a map spread out on the table with Phoenix, Arizona circled in red marker, his fingertip gently tracing up the map slowly until he found Jackson.

"Probably take a week to get there. Week to get back," he said, straightening up to look at the group. Besides you and Joel, Maria was also there, along with Bill, the town doctor, Eugene, and Claire, a high school teacher. "Figure it shouldn't take many people, I don't want to leave this place defenseless just in case this blows back on us."

"Who is going to take her, Tommy?" Claire asked, her glasses sliding down her nose as she leaned forward on the table.

"Me and Maria volunteer. I'll see if Jake's up for another trip, and maybe one more," he said, avoiding eye contact with Joel. You shifted in your seat, about to open your mouth to volunteer when Joel's head whipped towards you, shooting you a glare that said don't even think about it.

"I'll do it," Eugene said.

"I'll need another group to take the guns to the Fireflies, was kind of hopin' you might take the lead since you know 'em," Tommy replied, and the older man nodded.

"Wherever you need me," he said.

"I'll go with Eugene to take the guns," Joel offered, and you stiffened in your seat.

"Alright, maybe Jesse'll go with you and that should be enough. I oughta warn 'em we're comin'. I'll radio over later today, see if I can get ahold of Marlene, tell her the story," Tommy mumbled, jotting down a note for himself as he spoke. "I'll ask Carl to come with us to take Ellie."

You cleared your throat, drawing the table's attention.

"What if she stayed?" you asked, and Tommy paused for a moment, glancing at Joel before looking back at you. "What? Is it that absurd? She said she wants to stay, and that way we aren't risking the lives of four people to get her to Arizona safely."

"No, we would be riskin' the lives of the whole town if she stayed," Joel countered. "If those Fireflies ever find out we lied, we're fucked."

"He's right, darlin', I'm sorry," Tommy said. Maria cast you a sympathetic glance and you sighed.

At least you could say you tried.

They had agreed to disband each group in a couple days, allowing everyone a chance to rest up, as well as give Tommy an opportunity to touch base with the Fireflies over the radio.

Joel gripped your elbow once you were both far enough away from everyone as you made your way home, pulling you closer.

"You weren't about to volunteer to take that kid, were you? Tell me I'm crazy for thinkin' that," he muttered lowly next to you.

"I didn't volunteer, did I?" you shot back, not exactly answering the question, and he knew it, but he still released your arm. "Besides, you volunteered to take those guns to the Fireflies, when you just told me you weren't going. Like that isn't even more dangerous? What if they see right through this lie and do something?"

"That's different and y'know it," he said, and you scoffed.

"Right, because it's you," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"No, 'cause this needs to get done, and it needs to get done right. And I ain't riskin' my neck takin' that kid back to her family," he said, jaw clenching. "Neither of us are riskin' it. It was a mistake to bring her here in the first place."

You opened your mouth to argue back, but decided against it. He got what he wanted anyway: you were staying home. That aside, you could tell your relationship was still in a fragile state, and you weren't interested in making it any worse.

The next morning, you arrived at the greenhouse, leaving Joel behind in bed at home. He would typically walk you to work, but you wanted to make sure he got as much rest as possible before yet another journey outside the walls of Jackson. You were still disappointed that he volunteered for the task, especially after he told you he would stay home, and the insecure part of you wondered if he was trying to stay busy as a way of avoiding you.

It wasn't until closer to lunchtime that Ellie finally joined you at the greenhouse, much to your relief since you had become used to her being around to keep you company.

"Hey kid, where have you been all morning?" you asked her when she came in with no more than a silent nod in your direction as a greeting.

"Maria came by," she said, and you noticed right away her voice sounded distant. You stopped what you were doing so you could give her your full attention.

"She said I'm leaving in a few days, wanted specifics on where my aunt and uncle lived," she continued, and you nodded along, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. She was avoiding eye contact, focused entirely on her open backpack and rifling through her meager possessions.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. I did try, you know, in the meeting. But it wasn't up for debate," you told her. She nodded in acknowledgement, still keeping her eyes cast down.

"I get it. I know there's some people who really don't want me here," she said, choosing not to name names, but you knew who she meant. "But at least we still have a week."

She must have noticed your silence because she finally glanced up at you.

"Maria said it will take a week to get me there. You are going, right?" she asked. Your face must have given you away because she clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Are you fucking kidding me, man?"

"Ellie-"

"You have to come with me!" she pleaded now, her eyes wide. "Please!"

"I can't, I'm so sorry," you said, your heart breaking at the expression on her face. She stomped angrily across the room, tears welling up in her eyes as she gave you a firm shove, making you stumble back in surprise.

"Not fucking cool," she said, giving you another shove, nostrils flared. And then another. And another, until you were up against the wall and couldn't move backwards any further. Two tears fell down her cheeks and her fists were raised to pound on your chest out of frustration, but you quickly wrapped your arms around her instead and pulled her in close for a hug, tears blurring your vision.

"I'm sorry," you repeated over and over as you held her in your arms, gently swaying back and forth as she cried silently against your chest.

"I need to tell you something," she said, pulling away and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "But you need to promise not to tell anyone."

"What-"

"Promise me!" she yelled, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at you with a fire in her eyes.

"I promise," you told her. She looked at you for another minute, as if she were deciding whether or not to really tell you. She sighed, glancing back at the closed door once before pulling up the sleeve of her shirt.

You raced down the street, sweat collecting at the base of your neck and hairline, as you bobbed and weaved your way to Maria's house, hoping Tommy would be there. You could hardly think straight, the past thirty minutes completely sending you off the deep end. She's immune, she's immune, she's fucking immune.

Knocking erratically on the front door, you struggled to catch your breath, wiping the sweat away as best you could with your other hand while you waited impatiently for an answer. Just as you were about to start knocking again, the door swung open and Maria stood on the other side, giving you a confused look.

"Is Tommy here?" you gasped, and she nodded, her eyes widening at your demeanor and ushered you inside.

"Are you okay?" she asked you, and you nodded, glancing in the living room to find it empty before you headed to the kitchen. You stopped cold when you saw Joel was there with his brother seated at the table, two maps spread out in front of them. They both looked up when you entered the room, and Joel stood from his chair immediately, coming over to you with a look of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, taking you by the shoulders to give you a once over, but you stepped aside so you could address Tommy behind him.

"I'm coming with you to take Ellie back to her family," you told him.

"Like hell you are!" Joel roared, dropping his hands from your shoulders, but you ignored him. Tommy sighed, looking back and forth between you and Joel, before standing up from his chair.

"Darlin'-"

"No, Tommy. I'm going. You said yourself you needed a fourth person."

"You ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, narrowing his eyes. You finally caved and met his gaze. "We talked about this," he added.

"Things change," you said, and he bristled at your response.

"What changed?" Tommy asked calmly, and you turned your attention back to him.

"She's scared. She wants someone she trusts to go with her," you said, only half lying.

Tommy and Maria exchanged glances. You waited for a response while Joel seethed next to you, staring daggers at his brother.

"Tommy, she ain't-"

"We need a fourth, Joel," he said, cutting him off.

"Find someone else!" he yelled, running his fingers through his hair.

"I can do it, I can handle myself," you assured Tommy, ignoring Joel's reaction once again, knowing you only had to convince one person. "You know I can handle myself."

Tommy gave his brother a pained look before looking back at you.

"Alright," Tommy said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll keep her safe, Joel," Tommy promised, daring to look at Joel, who was brimming with so much anger, his face looked flush.

You glanced at Joel, his jaw clenched so tightly you wondered if he was cracking his molars. His gaze bounced between you and Tommy, not sure who to channel his rage toward.

"Joel, it will be fine. Sit down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," you said, trying to smooth things over, but it was no use.

"Fuckin' hell," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Guess I'm goin', too."

"That's fine, I'll shift some guys around, send Jake with Eugene," Tommy agreed with a nod. Joel just stared at the ground, taking deep breaths, trying to control his temper.

"Thank you," you whispered to Joel, reaching a hand out to place on his shoulder, but he stepped away.

"Thought you didn't want kids, why don't you make up your damn mind," he snapped, and it felt like he punched you in the gut. He turned on his heel towards the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Your eyes filled with tears and your face flushed with embarrassment as Tommy and Maria glanced awkwardly at one another. Maria stepped forward and wrapped an arm around your shoulders so she could lead you into the living room.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked you, handing you a tissue. You shook your head and dabbed your eyes.

"Not right now," you said quietly. "Thank you. I'm sorry I put you in that position, I didn't know he was here," you said, addressing Tommy, who was leaning against the doorway, watching you both.

"It's alright, he'll get over it, I know how to handle my own brother," he said with a smirk. You chuckled and wiped your nose before taking a deep breath.

"I should probably go," you said, trying to force a smile. Maria walked you to the door and reminded you quietly that she was there if you wanted to talk. You gave her a quick hug and thanked them both before heading back down the street towards home, hoping Joel had a chance to cool down and come to his senses.

If Ellie was immune, you needed to make sure she got in the right hands, to have a chance to explain to her remaining family the gift she was given, and if you were the only person she could trust to confide in, then so be it. You wanted to tell Joel the truth, but you made her a promise, and you weren't going to let her down again.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark - if your name is crossed off, it won't let me tag you. lmk if I missed anyone

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narrycherries · 3 months

Text

call it what you want✨part1

Harry is your best friend, but one day things started to change..

masterlist

word count: 8k

warnings/tags: harry x reader, bestfriends to lovers trope, fluff, smut implied/mentioned

It all happened very innocently, out of the blue and probably due to the built up tension between you two. It was a cool fall day, nearly a year ago, when your big group of friends decided to play a friendly game of baseball together. It was a Saturday afternoon, you were playing your second game of the day. Everyone was having fun, especially your brother and his best friend, Harry, who both love the sport. Harry went to college on a sports scholarship, as did your brother, so they were both very active. A few of your other friends have always played the game growing up, including yourself, so it was always a good time whenever you all planned a game.

But that particular game will always be lingering in your mind. You were running when you caught a bad cramp in your thigh. Harry wasn’t on your team, he was actually trying to get you out when you tumbled over and started crying. Everyone instantly became worried - fearing you broke your leg. But Harry reacted the quickest, and the calmest.

He tossed his glove onto the ground and made the short distance to you, dropping to his knees instantly. His hands grabbed your face and he tilted your head so he could see you.

“Hey, peach, are you okay? Did you twist your ankle?” He asked in a sweet tone, his eyes skimming your lower half for any obvious breaks or bruising.

You shook your head and grabbed the back of your thigh. “Hurts.” You muttered back.

“Pulled a muscle, yeah? I know that hurts. Want me to get you up?”

A whimper came from your mouth as you nodded. His arms went around you and he picked you up off the ground. Your arm flew on his neck, whining began to erupt as you realized it hurt to put pressure on your leg.

“Everything okay?” Austin, your brother, appeared at your side.

You weren’t sure if he had been there the whole time or not, because whenever Harry was around all you could focus on was him. And he had been talking so sweetly to you, his big hands touching you gently. You were lost in a trance.

It wasn’t uncommon. Harry and you were close, due to his friendship with your brother. You hung out a lot more with each other than others did in the group. He was your best friend these days, not really your brother’s anymore. It was platonic, though.

“I dunno.” You sighed, eyes shifting to Harry’s. “I can’t walk.”

“Want me to get her?“ Austin asked.

Harry shook his head and suddenly swept you off your feet. “I got her.”

He carried you to the dug out while the game started back up. You weren’t bothered by not being able to play. You felt horrible, your leg ached like it was on fire. Harry sat down on the bench and sat you on his lap. You were still holding onto his neck, fingers tangled in his long hair. It wasn’t unusual for you two to sit this way - but normally it was in private. Like on the couch as you watched a movie or the nights Harry gets drunk and you look after him - he’s very clingy with you and always, always wants to hold you. But now, in front of all your friends and your brother, this was different. You figured everyone would brush it off and just blame your injury and slightly dramatic reaction.

“Feels like my leg is gonna fall off.” You said with a pout as Harry rested his hand on top of your hurting thigh.

He chuckled, squeezing your waist for a moment. “M’sure it’s fine, doll. Just a cramp.”

“What if I can’t walk tomorrow?”

He smiled, leaning closer to you to lower his voice. “I’ll stay with you tonight. Take good care of you, yeah?”

“Please, bubby. It hurts so bad.”

He pressed a comforting kiss to your temple. “M’gonna give you a massage when we get home. Make it better, promise.”

You nodded back. “You’re the best.”

“Mhm, I know.” He smirked as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Still cocky, though.”

Harry insisted on going back to his apartment instead of yours that night. He had a drawer system he was building for his room and he wanted to get it done this weekend. So you went to his place, not minding staying there for the night. You were curled up in his bed, the soft blanket you picked out months ago wrapped around your body.

You always slept so comfortably in his bed - ever since that time he assured you nothing had happened in this particular bed and no other girl had ever been in it. The idea of you laying where someone’s naked body had been, even if the sheets were clean, was weird. You took a little pride in knowing you were the only person who’s been in his room.

“Are you done yet?” You whined as he walked back into the room. The dresser he was building was finished now and in its new place, yet he was still walking around occupying himself. “Harry.”

He looked over his shoulder and smirked at you. “Few minutes, darling.”

“I miss you.” You mumbled into the pillow, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’ll take a nap with you in a minute.”

You grunted. “Gotta rub my leg first.”

A shudder rippled through your body as you felt his weight press down on the bed, his lips against your forehead. “I know, sweet girl.” He pressed a kiss to your skin. “Five minutes, okay?”

“Four.”

He chuckled. “Five.”

“Three.” You pushed your luck.

Harry couldn’t resist it. He smiled against your skin. “Three, lovey. I promise.”

You always got what you wanted when it came to Harry. It made you feel special and loved - he cared more than anyone else about you. You kept your eyes closed as you felt him move away. You didn’t want to bother him because that would ultimately increase the time he had to stay away from you. So, you let him be and laid there silently, waiting as patiently as you could manage.

—

Harry was your favorite person to be around. Sometimes, you forget that he hasn’t always been your favorite person. You met Harry when you were thirteen and he was fifteen. He was the new kid at school, from a different country, but he was great at sports so he fit right in. He met your brother, Austin, and they became best friends. He was always over at your house on the weekends and during summer breaks. You used to argue with him over any little thing - more than you did with your own brother.

It was like that for a couple years. He would just join in on Austin picking on you, you’d get aggravated and tell them off to your parents. It all changed when you were eighteen.

You were at a party with your friends, and Harry and Austin just so happened to be there with their friends, too. This was before your two groups mixed together. A guy decided he wanted to flirt with you and when you didn’t return his behavior, he got touchy.

Harry had been watching your encounter from across the room, without you being aware of that. Austin went to do something, leaving Harry in charge of keeping an eye on you. It was an unspoken rule between the two of them - something even you didn’t know. The moment the guy’s hand grabbed your butt, and you shoved his chest in an attempt to get away, Harry knew what was happening. He shot through the crowd. His big hand grabbed your waist and he pulled you away from the guy and into his body instead. You were about to freak out, scared out of your mind, until you looked down at the arm around your stomach and saw some familiar tattoos. It was Harry.

“Back the fuck off.” He said coldly to the guy, eyes full of anger.

Your nails sunk into his wrist, wishing he could just sweep you away. But Harry loved confrontation- and he wasn’t about to let this guy get away with anything. Besides, you were only eighteen. It was the first big party you’ve been to, Harry knew you were going to be vulnerable.

“Gettin’ selfish, Styles? Didn’t know you were fuckin’ Austin’s sister.” The guy laughed, the realization immediately hit you - this guy knew Harry and your brother. “Does he know?”

“Fuck off before I shove your head through the fuckin’ floor.”

“Do it, then. Know you like to fight, Styles. Let’s go,”

Harry dropped his arm from your body, his skin ripping against your nails in the process. He grabbed your elbow to pull you behind him, but you spun around and quickly snaked your arms around him. He stood frozen for a split second, surprised that you did that but he figured you were terrified.

“C’mon, loverboy. Don’t let a whore stop you,” The taunting continued.

But Harry wasn’t paying him any attention. His left arm went around your shoulders, keeping you against him. He reached out with his right hand and grabbed the guy's collar. He held it tight, twisting the fabric to create more tension.

“If you ever touch her again.. I’ll fuck you up.” He spat out, then let the guy go.

Harry immediately turned you away from the guy and rested his hand on your lower back, not quite sure what to do. You were shaking, tears dripping down your cheeks as you kept your face pressed against his hard chest.

“S’okay, now, sweetheart.” He said in a mumble as he let his chin rest against your head. “I’ve got you.”

—

A happiness filled your heart as Harry finally came to the bed. He motioned you to roll over onto your back, so you did. You stretched your arms out as he pulled the blankets away from your body. You were wearing a pair of his briefs as shorts, along with one of his shirts. You had clothes at his apartment, but you always wanted to wear his stuff instead.

“Gotta relax for me, alright? Don’t be so ticklish.” He said with a lift of his brows, trying to be stern with you.

You smile sweetly. “I know, I know.”

Thankfully, all those years of him playing sports has taught him things about healing cramps and pulled muscles. So you never once doubted what he was doing. He grabbed your ankle and pulled your leg up, resting your foot on his shoulder. You winced as the position forced your muscles to stretch out.

“Harry.” You whimpered, reaching to grab your leg but he swatted your hand down.

“Relax, peach.”

“Rub it.. don’t pull it.”

He smiled when your eyes met his. “I know what to do, honey.”

You groaned as he grabbed the side of your knee and began moving your leg, pushing your knee to a bend - pulling a grunt from you in the process.

“Don’t want this part, Harry.” You felt tears swelling in your eyes from the pain. “Please, pretty please, just rub it.”

“Darling, if I don’t do this, the rubbing won’t make a difference. Please, trust me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. A mutter fell past your lips. “Never said I didn’t.”

Harry was well aware that you hated it when he said things like that - if it was the slightest bit against you, it made you upset. Of course you trusted him, why would he say that? Is he insisting you aren’t trusting him? Is it not obvious? Obviously, he knew and you knew he knew - but his reassurance was read wrong, you were slightly upset now. A bit dramatic, for sure.

“I know, lovey. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He said, the pads of his fingers were now digging into the back of your thigh, right where he knew you were aching. “Y’know m’always gon’ take care of you, peach. Don’t get upset.”

You nod a few soft times, your eyes shifted to meet his as you realize you were being a bit childish. Your arms fell to your sides and you took a deep breath.

“Play some music, lovey. Get relaxed for me. I’ll work your leg.. don’t worry about it.” He insisted as he took his phone from the pocket of his pajama pants and gave it to you.

You typed in the password, your birthday of course, and opened his music library. You had your own playlist saved, so you started playing it and slid the phone away from you on the mattress. He chuckled as you snarled your lip at his actions - he was stretching your leg again.

Harry couldn’t help but to stare at you as your pretty eyes closed. You were laid out on his bed, his hands on your body. He swallowed as he pulled his mind out of the gutter. You playfully wiggled your toes against his neck as he brought your leg up. He shook his head, grinning at you.

“I think you’re faking it.” He mumbled, gripping the back of your thigh as hard as he could, making you wince.

“Harry!” You squealed, kicking his hip with your other foot.

“Fine, fine.. I guess you’re really hurt, hm?”

“Yeah, obviously.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

He kept on with the rough, but pain relieving massaging. You let out small grunts here and there, each of them making his eyes flick to your face to make sure you were okay. You were content, despite the discomfort, because he was with you.

A few more minutes passed before your arms fell down to reach for the phone. Harry gave you a funny look as you changed the song and dropped the phone back down. He noticed the red blush coating your cheeks, your eyes avoiding his.

“Thought you liked that one.” He said with a chuckle as you let out a deep breath.

“It says the p word.” You muttered back, not wanting to talk about it.

Of course he wasn’t going to let that slide though. He kept his hands focused on your thigh as his eyes watched you so closely, not wanting to miss a reaction.

“What, pussy?”

“Harry! Stop!” You whined instantly, pulling laughs from his mouth.

He was amused by your distaste for that word. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t aware of, but usually the songs don’t bother you. He licked his lips and decided to give your leg a bend, working your muscles as much as he could. You winced as he pushed your leg, your knee bending.

“You’re such a grandma sometimes. It’s just a word.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t like hearing it.”

He lifted a brow, even though you hadn’t looked at him. “You only get irritated when I say it.”

“Because you’re my best friend.. I don’t want to hear you say it.”

“You’re so mean to me, yeah? Won’t even let me talk.”

You nudged him with your foot again. “Leave me alone.”

“Fine.”

The moment he let your leg go, you whined and tried to sit up to grab him. You failed and a spark of pain shot through your leg. He grabbed your thigh again, chuckling as you struggled through the discomfort.

“You’re the mean one. That’s the second time you hurt me.”

“Cause you’re bullying me.”

You smacked your lips. “It’s your fault I got hurt!”

He gasped. “What?”

“Yeah! You were gonna get me out so I had to run faster and hurt myself.” You lifted yourself up by your elbows, a pout on your lips as you gave him a hard glare.

“You know I always go easy on you.. I wasn’t going to get you out.” The curl of his lips into a smirk made your stomach bubble. “You get special treatment.”

“Yeah, cus you’re a pussy.” You cocked a brow at him, a cheeky grin covering your face.

“Me? If either of us is a pussy it’s you.” He chuckled. “You’re a bit of a crybaby.”

“Don’t say that!” Your smile dropped to a frown.

“See, you’re getting upset and I’m just joking with you, honey.” He leaned down a little, just to get a closer look at you.

“You’re so mean to me.” You huffed as your arms fell and your back hit the bed.

You knew he was joking and it didn’t really bother you, but the idea of him teasing you always made your stomach churn and your heart race. Every little snide comment was followed by a comforting mumble or touch, it was just teasing.. and it drove you crazy. Nobody else gets that treatment from him, and it makes you feel so special.

“C’mon, don’t be sad, angel.” He sighed out heavily as he realized you were still pouting after a few minutes went by.

You grunted, keeping your response very limited. He let go of your thigh and gently moved your leg so that it was bent and your foot was resting on the bed. You glanced at him, somewhat concerned as to what he was doing. You didn’t want him to stop, not even for a minute.

“Smile for me, peach.” He rubbed his fingers against your calf, knowing you were oddly ticklish there.

You groaned, trying your hardest to ignore his efforts. He didn’t like how you were acting, so he figured he could try to help. He ran his eyes down your body, but stopped as he saw your shirt had rode up a little and your stomach was exposed. If you were ticklish anywhere, it was definitely your stomach.

With no warning whatsoever, he shoved his hands up your shirt and started tickling you. You shrieked, kicking your legs up as he moved his fingertips against your skin. His laugh filled your ears and you couldn’t resist it anymore. You started giggling and squealing as he dug his fingers into your sides and stomach.

“Harry! Stop!” You whined through your first of laughter as he leaned down to move his arms further under your shirt, tickling up to the band of your sports bra.

“No, you won’t smile for me so I gotta make you.” He said with a chuckle as you tried to grab his arms.

“You’re so-so mean!” You couldn’t stop laughing, which was making him laugh just as much.

“Hey!” He yelped as you grabbed his elbow and sunk your nails into his skin. “That’s not fair.”

You grinned. “Don’t be a baby.”

“That’s it. I’m done going easy on you.” He chuckled out as he slid his hands down to your tummy, tickling around your navel and above the waistband - an area that drove you absolutely mad.

“No, please! Ha-harry!” You cried out with the biggest smile on your face.

He couldn’t help but laugh along with you as he tortured your nerves. It felt like a never ending sensation and it was causing you to curl your toes and squeeze your hands into fists. He was enjoying this entirely too much, and that was making you feel like you had the disadvantage.

In an attempt to throw him off guard, you tried to use your feet against his thighs to push him away from you. It was hard to concentrate your strength when you were gasping for air and twisting in his hold. Harry anchored a knee on the edge of the bed to strengthen his position. He was too strong for you to fight, but you didn’t give up.

“You’re a bully!” You said between laughs as you grabbed his forearms and tried your best to tear his hands away from your body, but it was a poor attempt.

Harry kept on, lightening up his movements every now and then to allow you time to catch your breath. But it wasn’t much time. He didn’t want you to retreat back to your previous mood. He wanted to see you laugh and smile and be playful with him. He wanted you to be happy, always happy.

For just a moment, he slowed down his fingers and shifted his eyes to your face. He needed to make sure you were okay and not too overwhelmed by everything. You caught his gaze and instantly grinned at him, a layer of blush covering your cheeks. He figured it was your body’s reaction from the tickling, a soft flush was covering your arms as well. The moment he decided to set aside for you grew into several long seconds, allowing you the perfect opportunity to get him back.

You grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward, immediately grabbing his waist to start tickling him. He let out a laugh as you curled one hand around his neck and brought him down even further, you needed better access.

“Don’t do it!” He said amusingly as you started pinching the skin behind his ear. He was sensitive there and it always made him cackle.

“Payback.” You smacked your lips, then shaped them into a smile as his eyes met yours.

You hadn’t realized how close you actually were to him. He was letting you have your way now, pulling him as close as you wanted and doing whatever you desired. His fingers had stalled on your waist, which surprised you. He had been so intent on tickling you that it seemed unusual that he stopped.

“Finally give up?” You asked with a giggle, but it was too late. He slid his arm under the small of your back and started lightly rubbing his fingertips across your skin - causing you to burst into a fit of laughter. “No!”

Your nails let go of his skin and you instinctively grabbed his nape, applying pressure that caused him to lean further down. Your body began to flop around and limbs were twisting around his body, trying to be freed. He kept on, laughing the entire time as you went through hell.

The leg you had injured was resting on the bed, but the other had wrapped around the back of his thigh. “Please, please.. need a break.” You begged through a whine. The tickling was now truly hurting you.

He decided to be sweet to you, so he stopped moving his fingers, but kept them in place. You whimpered softly, feeling your body start to realize the pain was over for now. It felt nice to come down from the intense high, but you feared it would end quickly. To your shock, Harry dropped down so his head was next to yours, his lips gently pushing against your temple.

“I’ll stop.. for now.” His words were soft as his warm breath caused goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“Thank you.” You whispered back while your fingers trailed into his hair.

“Only because I don’t want you to strain your leg.” You felt his smirk against your skin.

A heavy breath filled your lungs and slowly left your parted lips. “You’re supposed to make me feel better.. not make me hurt more.”

“M’sorry, peach.” He let out a low chuckle. “Want me to take care of you?”

“Yes.. that’s your job.”

He licked his lips and carefully placed a kiss on your temple again. “My job, hm? You’re a bit bossy.”

You shifted your head slightly to catch his eyes. You silently admired how pretty the color was. It was obviously something you were familiar with, but every time you saw them this close up you become intrigued. He furrowed his brows and gave you a smile, slightly unsure as to why you were looking at him that way. Little did either of you realize, he looks at you the same way all of the time, even if by accident. He had been doing it when you decided to distract him just minutes ago.

“Did I really hurt you?” He asked in the softest voice he could manage, not wanting to be too loud this close to your ears. He cared so much about you, even the simplest things were always being considered.

“No.. just made my tummy twist up.”

He licked his lips gently, turning his lips to a smile. “I can always rub the twist away.”

“I do like a good tummy rub.” You giggled back, thinking of the times when you would be on your period and he would insist on rubbing your cramps away. Just the slightest touch of his skin on yours would always make you feel better.

“I know you do, peach.” He quickly pecked your cheek, making your face flush even more.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You curled your fingers into his hair. “Even though the tickles hurt.. i feel better.”

“You don’t ever have to thank me. Like you said, it’s my job.”

A meaningless sigh slipped past your lips. “Can I give you a hug? As a thank you.”

Harry gave you a soft smile. “You don’t have to ask me that, y’know.”

Without saying anything else, you slid your arm around his torso and the other around his head. He let out a soft grunt as he fell against you, his face nuzzling against your shoulder. The amount of security you felt was incredible. You never wanted him to move. You were the safest when you were with him, that you were sure of. Harry moved his other hand off the mattress and under your body, pulling you even further together.

“Can I stay with you all weekend?” You asked in a mumble.

He swallowed softly. “M’supposed to go to the bar with the guys tomorrow night.”

A displeased grunt came from your throat. That made him smile. He turned his head, pushing his face into the side of your neck. You wanted to beg him to stay home so you could be with him, but you didn’t say anything. The fear of seeming too annoying or clingy was something you had to deal with a lot. Harry was your friend, that’s all..

“But.. I can always go with them some other time.”

You sunk your nails into his back. “So, I can?”

“Of course you can.” He pressed a kiss to your neck without even thinking about the location - it made you gasp. “Um, sorry.” He nervously laughed out, about to lean up but you tighten your arm around his head.

“Don’t get up yet.” You muttered, closing your eyes as you savored the feeling of his lips lingering on your skin.

It felt wrong to soak up the pleasure like that, but at the same time you were so consumed by it that it didn’t matter. You were not at all mad about his little action, in fact you wished he would do it again and again. But, in the end, Harry was your best friend and you shouldn’t feel that way. Maybe you were just tired and overthinking how you felt.. or maybe you were really being honest with yourself for once.

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Shh.. it’s fine.” You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you relived the moment over in your head.

“Do you.. wanna take a nap?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.. my leg still hurts.”

A laugh left his mouth. “Want me to get back to that?”

You thought for a moment about everything that had happened. The way you felt when his hands were touching your body, the way your heart melted when his lips pressed against your neck, the way your eyes seemed to get lost in his.. every little thing. Perhaps you were tired, and your judgment was altered. Or maybe you were tired of pretending the feelings you always got were fake.

“Can you.. do it again?” You asked in the softest voice he had ever heard you use.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t confused. He gulped as he thought about what to say back. Did you mean what he thinks you did? No, surely not.. you weren’t interested in him that way.. or were you?

“The.. massaging?” He asked innocently, hoping that was what you meant.

It wasn’t that he was opposed to the other possibility, he just didn’t want to seem desperate or weird by insisting that. To his surprise, you answered him truthfully.

“No.. Kiss me.. just.. just one more time?”

Harry’s heart began to race in his chest, causing his entire body to receive sparks. There wasn’t anything he wanted more right now than to give you what you want - whatever you want. He licked his lips and carefully placed them on your skin. You released the quietest moan he’s ever heard - it was hardly even a sound, and that alone made his heart explode. Even though you asked for just one, he decided to give you a few more. He created a short line of kisses along your warm skin, hoping you’d be okay with that.

“Harry.” You whispered his name, making his stomach drop. “Don’t stop. I.. I like it.”

He listened to your command and gladly kept going. He didn’t hesitate to move further up your neck, marking your skin with his lips. Your stomach was churning in the best way possible, making a wetness grow between your legs. You tried your hardest to ignore that, but it was difficult. Harry meant the world to you, he was your favorite person. Now here he is.. kissing your neck and holding your body like this, like he really, really cared about you.

A small lump began growing in your throat as he covered your jaw and suddenly came to a stop by the corner of your mouth.

“You’re so soft.” He said through a breath. “Gotta be gentle.”

You smiled sweetly. The movement made your mouth touch his lips just slightly. “You’re always so gentle with me.”

He pressed a feathery kiss to your skin, still avoiding your lips. “s’because you’re my little peach, hm.”

A breathy laugh slipped from your lips. “I.. I.. never noticed this.” You brought your hand to his cheek and gently used your index finger to tap on the little freckle.

He couldn’t help but grin at you, his dimples sinking into his cheeks. You bit down on your bottom lip as you trailed your fingertip over his skin, admiring the feeling and searching for new freckles. You didn’t see anymore though. Harry’s eyes watched yours intensely as they moved across his face. He felt like the world had stopped and time was frozen. It felt magical to be so close to you.

“You’ve got the slightest bit of.. green in your eyes.” He said quietly, which grabbed your attention. “Just a tiny spot of it on both.. barely there.. the blue almost hides it.”

Hearing him say that made your heart flutter. You realized how close he had been looking at your eyes because those spots he’s referring to were very faint and small. You only ever noticed them yourself when you were doing your eye makeup close up in a mirror.

You gently laid your hand over his jaw. Your thumb was rubbing against his cheek, the stubble growing from his skin was scratchy. You took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He muttered the words as quietly as he could, his eyes locked with yours.

Your cheeks were on fire. Despite his weight literally being on top of you, you felt weightless and blissful like this. Harry leaned his face back down, his lips peppering soft kisses across your cheek. You closed your eyes and mustered up every ounce of courage you could. The grip you had on his jaw tightened and you pulled him over, his mouth brushing yours. He wanted to so bad, so desperately bad. You swallowed, trying to keep your composure.

“Please.” You uttered out.

He didn’t wait any longer. His lips touched yours, pushing against your mouth as he let out a soft grunt. You moved your hand to the side of his head, your fingers grabbing his hair as you squeezed your eyes tightly, trying to savor the moment forever.

Harry’s hands were glued to your body. One had snuck down to your waist while the other was on your back. You hoped he’d never move them. You wanted to melt into his body, never be torn away. A whimper fell from your mouth as he gently moved his lips away from yours.

“Harry.” You whispered faintly, unsure of how to tell him you wanted more.

“I.. I, um.” He paused to swallow harshly. “I can stop.”

“No, don’t have to.” You said through a gentle whine.

His eyes moved to yours and you instantly felt your heart overflowing. He gave you the sweetest smile and lowered his lips back to yours, but he didn’t kiss you just yet.

“Your lips are so soft.” He whispered, chuckling as you gave his waist a playful squeeze in an attempt to distract him from your flushed cheeks. “Peaches are soft though, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a cute smile. “I guess so.”

“I know so.” He winked, then pushed his lips on yours.

Your stomach turned to knots as he started to move, guiding you with him. It was purely just lips, but the feeling was phenomenal. Harry’s gentle hold of your waist caused tingles to shoot through your body. You wanted him to squeeze you tighter, but you feared asking him. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin everything by doing too much.

A deep grunt filled your ears and made you pull your lips back. Your hand froze on Harry’s head as his eyes opened to look at you. He furrowed his brows slightly, wondering what was going through your head.

“Do you want to stop?” He said quietly.

You shook your head. “No, please.. no. Just.. wanted to see you for a second.”

He curved the corner of his mouth. “See me?”

“You’re.. you’re very nice to look at.”

His chuckle made you whine and furrow your brows at your own words. He gently kissed your cheek then made sure to return his eyes to yours. Your cheeks were covered in flames.

“You’re attractive.” You muttered once you gained some courage. “You know that.”

“You’re quite attractive yourself, peach.”

You scoffed. “Am not.”

“If you weren’t.. I wouldn’t keep doing this.”

His lips pressed onto yours yet again, sending an explosion of sparks through your body. You whimpered softly against his mouth while your fingers twisted into his hair. Naturally, his body began to relax against you, his pelvis nuzzling between your legs. You hadn't really noticed that your legs had fallen apart for him, the uninjured one was still wrapped around his thigh.

The kiss lingered for a few more moments before you decided to take it a step further. You stopped the soft pecking and parted your lips. Harry didn’t say anything, but he did copy your actions to slot his lips with yours. Before you could process anything, his tongue was slipping into your mouth. He grunted when your hand returned to his face and gripped his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours as you returned the favor with your tongue.

Your heart skipped a beat with each touch of his tongue against yours. You felt your core tingly, your stomach bubbling as his hands got greedy with your body. He was squeezing and sliding under your shirt, his hot skin burned against yours.

There was nothing in the world that could ruin this for you. You were both completely engulfed. Harry was grunting while you kept softly moaning into his mouth. He wanted more from you, wanted to show you how he felt but he didn’t. When your nails scratched down his bare waist, he let out a breathy moan, his lips tearing from yours for just a moment.

“Harry.” You muttered out and grabbed the fabric of his shirt, pulling at it.

He understood your unspoken request and he quickly snatched it off his body, throwing it onto the floor before returning to you. Your hands immediately hit his body - you rubbed over the contours of his muscles and ribs before settling on his sides again. You loved to cuddle with him and hold him there, so right now it was more than you could have ever imagined. It felt like he was yours and you could do whatever you wanted. Little did you know, he would tell you that if you asked.

Just as things were starting to heat up, you realized what was happening and who it was happening with. You furrowed your brows and opened your eyes the instant you felt his hardened crotch rutting against yours. He was deep in the kiss, both hands possessively holding your body. You gulped and turned your head so your lips could be freed. He huffed and tried to reconnect to your mouth, but you quickly brought your fingers to his lips.

“Harry.” You whispered, a frown covering the lips he had made swollen.

“What’s.. what’s wrong?” He asked nervously, unsure of what was going through your mind. Was it too much? Did he do something you didn’t like? He started to worry, his heart was racing for a different reason now.

“Just.. not this.” You mumbled back, gently pushing up against his hips.

He lifted his body up some, dropping his brows as your eyes returned to his. “M’sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered back, making sure to give him a sweet smile.

He licked his lips and flicked his eyes to your mouth. “Are we.. done?”

A thousand thoughts ran through your head but you settled on just one. “We don’t have to be.”

That brought a smile to his handsome face, which made you feel relieved. “Yeah? I.. I don’t wanna be.”

“Me neither.”

Harry placed a kiss on your cheek then chuckled against your skin. “Then let’s keep going.”

He practically swallowed your giggle, he wasted no time hitting his mouth on yours. Within a moment, you were locked back in. He picked up where you left off without any trouble or hesitation. It made you feel like you were worth something, like he really cared about you. Despite feeling that way, you constantly pushed back the lingering thought in your head: he doesn’t like you like that. He doesn’t love you the way you love him. He doesn’t want to be with you the way you want to be with him. He just wants to hook up. He just wants to use you.. Your mind kept twirling with the same thoughts over and over again, which were making you lose the sensations you had felt before you stopped the kiss. It didn’t feel magical anymore, it didn’t feel perfect - it felt scary. What if he never wanted to talk to you again after this? What if you went entirely too far?

“No.” You suddenly broke the kiss and whined to him, your hand gripping his shoulder while the other stayed on his waist. “Harry.. we can’t.”

It wasn’t for nothing, though. His crotch had been pressing into yours again, making your toes curl and your heart drop. It didn’t need to happen. He was your best friend, he was your brother’s friend - it can’t happen..

“No?” He furrowed his brows.

“We can’t do this.” You shook your head, letting your hand go down to his pelvis just so you could push him upward again.

He obliged with your movement and lifted his hips again. He hadn’t even noticed that they fell down. He was just as lost in the moment as you were. But now he felt like he had messed up. Was it too much? He should’ve never kissed your neck..

“Not now.. not ever.” You whispered out, squeezing your eyes shut as tears began to swell. You wanted to break down, but you hated when he saw you cry.

“Hey, honey, don’t get upset.” He sighed softly as he realized you were holding back tears. He recognized that every single time. “I didn’t mean to.. m’sorry. I really am. We.. we can keep .. going if you want or if you don’t.. that’s okay.”

You turned your head away from him, your hand coming up to cover your eyes. There was nothing you wanted to do more right now than cry your eyes out. Harry took a deep breath and gently tugged your arm away from your face. You didn’t fight him, there was no point. He was much stronger than you.

“No, Harry.” You felt a tear trickle down your skin. It was such an embarrassing moment for you, but Harry remained calm.

“Hey, if you don’t want to keep going.. It's fine. And.. if you don’t ever want to do it again, that’s okay, too. I won’t.. tell anyone or.. bring it up.” He told you with the sweetest tone and comforting squeeze of your fingers.

“You-you don’t.. get it.” You choked out.

He licked his lips and let go of your fingers. He gently pushed your hair away from your face. “Tell me, then. Tell me what’s going on.”

You huffed. “I want to, Harry. I want to keep going.. so bad.”

His hand found yours again and this time you didn’t try to push him away. You laced your fingers with his and gently whimpered as he gave you a squeeze. His eyes were glued to your face and you could feel his stare on your skin. You could also feel how warm your cheeks were and how wet they were getting from the tears.

“That’s all you have to say, peach. We can-“

“No, Harry.” You cut him off. “We can't! I can’t.. do this with you. You’re my-my best fr-friend.”

“Sweetheart-“ He tried again, but you didn’t let him get far.

“Harry!” You suddenly cried out his name, tears flooding your eyes as your head shifted on the pillow.

You felt like you were going to fall to pieces beneath him. He cupped your jaw and started rubbing his thumb over your skin. You loved it so much when he did that during a normal situation, so surely you’d like it now. You did. You felt comfort from his warm, soft skin. But yet you were still sobbing.

“Hey.. listen to me, okay?” He said quietly as you tried to turn your head in his hold. He shushed you for a moment, trying to ease you back down. “Listen, sweetheart. Calm down.. just take some deep breaths.”

His deep voice caused your stomach to burst with butterflies and your skin to get chills. He could look at you and you’d explode with emotion, but his voice drove you mad whenever he spoke like that. So low, so sweet and kind and comforting.. He wanted to take care of you, make sure you knew he was right there.

“There you go.” He smiled to himself as you started sucking in deep breaths and pushing them out through your nose. “Whenever you’re ready.. M’right here.”

His reminder was followed by the softest peck against your temple. He didn’t want to overdo it by touching your lips again. You needed some time to cope, and he knew that. He knew you so well. It made you feel safe. Harry knew how to take care of you and what to do when you were overwhelmed. You loved that about him.

After a few quiet minutes of thinking to yourself and trying to slow down your heart, you opened your eyes and looked directly at him. He gave you a smile and relaxed his features, waiting for you to speak.

“I.. I want to.. I really like kissing you.. I.. just can’t.. risk it.” Your voice was incredibly soft, but he listened.

“What are we risking?”

“Everything. Our.. friendship.” You whined, but tried your best to not let the tears return.

He rubbed his thumb against your cheek to wipe away part of the tear stream. “Why is it at risk, honey? We both agreed we liked it.. nothing wrong with that.”

“We’re friends, Harry. I can’t.. have these feelings for you.”

He frowned slightly. “Why not? I have feelings for you. You know I do.. you mean the world to me.”

“Harry.” You breathed out quietly.

“I’m serious. I’d kiss you to the end of time if you wanted me to.”

You licked your lips and swallowed harshly. “We can’t.. My brother would freak out.. everyone would.”

Harry exhaled, wishing he could make everything go back to how it was just minutes ago. But he couldn’t do that, and he felt guilty and responsible for the mess up. He should’ve controlled himself. He should’ve paid better attention.

“We don’t have to tell anyone about this.” He watched your face closely as you went from being sad to being annoyed.

“Harry, I know what guys talk about.”

“I would never tell anyone anything about you.” He was quick to retort your comment. His voice got stern and it made you lock eyes with him. “I would never disrespect you like that, ever.”

You huffed through your lips then pouted them out. “I’ve heard the things the guys say about girls they’ve-“

Harry interrupted you. “I would never tell a soul about anything that happens between you and I in private. Whether it's kissing or cuddling or anything.”

You couldn’t dare tear your eyes from his, so you just stared at him. You could tell he was being serious but he was also hurt by your assumptions. You gulped gently, pushing down the lump in your throat.

“You don’t trust me?” He asked in a mutter.

“I trust you more than anyone.” You gently hit your hand against his chest, forgetting it was bare until just now. “With my life.”

“Then why are you so worried about this?” He sighed back. “Nobody knows about the cuddling we do.. how you sleep in the bed with me or.. don’t wear pants while you’re here. You never have to worry about that stuff.”

“I dunno.”

“Do you really think I’d do that to you?” He furrowed his brows again.

“No.. I know you wouldn’t. I just.. need a reason.. for this to be wrong.”

“It isn’t wrong.” He muttered.

“Then why does it feel wrong?”

Harry lifted his head some, just to give you some space. He was about to move beside you on the bed when you let out a whimper and slid your arm around his waist to keep him there. He gave you a smile and shook his head in disbelief.

“If it felt wrong.. you wouldn’t want me to stay right here, peach.”

You shrugged. “Do you actually.. care about me?”

He scoffed. “Of course I do. You’re my favorite human. I’d do absolutely anything for you.”

You thought for a second about everything and eventually exhaled slowly. Harry watched you as your eyes moved to the ceiling, your mind was lost in thought. He waited patiently for you to say something.

“Would you keep this a secret?” Your eyes shifted to his and you surprised him by moving your hand up to his neck. “Like.. whatever we do together.. kiss or.. or whatever else.”

“Of course, peach.” He assured you with a smile. “I’ll never tell a soul.”

You gave him a nod and let your hand fall to his chest. The feeling of his chest hair against your fingertips made your heart jump. You had a weird thing you liked where you rubbed the light hair on his chest. He always found it funny, but he admired how it made you relax. It was comforting.

“Can we keep kissing now?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” He chuckled before finally returning his lips to yours.

…

[a/n: of course, this is just the introduction to this new pairing and short series! I am so excited for this one, It’s one of my favorite things i’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy! + this is more of a story telling format that includes “flashbacks” so I hope it’s not too confusing!]

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tonyspank · 8 months

Text

HEART RACING

Warnings: 8k+ words, bad writing, kissing, relationship started from a bet, slightly ooc vada (idk?) reader has she/her pronouns, ur best friends is kinda a dick ig

A/N: this was highly inspired by shes all that + i'm still kinda on my break, sorry if it seems like im ignoring asks

Summary: You take on a bet from your best friend, but what happens when you start regretting your decision.

"I'm so excited." Jordan, your childhood best friend says, smiling at you. You narrow your eyes at the brunette boy, adjusting your bookbag strap that was slipping off your shoulder. "I wonder what dish your mom is going to make this time." He adds on, that goofy smile of his never leaves his face.

"Yeah." You mumble, trying to hide your nerves about the upcoming break. "Yeah, I hope it's something delicious," you reply, forcing a smile. Jordan reads you like a book, tilting his head before letting out a soft laugh.

"Don't tell me you're worried about your parents bothering you about having a girlfriend." You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows, as your eyes stay attached to the trail in front of you.

"It's just... this happens every holiday! Oh, Y/N, where's your girlfriend? Oh, Y/N! Who's the lucky girl?" You mock your parents before letting out a sigh and stopping your walk to face Jordan.

"Why can't I just be single and enjoy my high school experience without constantly being questioned about my love life?" you vent, frustration evident in your voice. Jordan raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "To be fair, you haven't brought a girl home since freshman year. And you're now a senior. Did you see how happy they were?"

You roll your eyes at Jordan, "What about Ana? I brought her home." Jordan chuckles, shaking his head. "Ana doesn't count. You faked a relationship, and your parents read right through it. They know you too well."

You sigh, memories of that awkward dinner with Ana and your parents flooding back. "Yeah, that was a disaster. I guess I just wanted to avoid the constant interrogation for a while." Jordan smirks. "Maybe it's time you actually find someone worth bringing home."

"Yeah, sure. It wouldn't be hard to, I just need someone to be able to play the part. My parents do not care who I date whatsoever, just as long as I'm dating them." You tell him, scratching your eyebrow.

Jordan raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You wanna bet on it?" You raise an eyebrow in response, curious about what Jordan has in mind. "What kind of bet are we talking about here?"

"I pick the girl, and you have to bring her home to meet your parents on Christmas," Jordan says, a smirk playing on his lips. "And if you succeed, I'll do your math homework for the rest of the year."

You eye Jordan before holding out your hand. "Deal." Jordan's smile widens as he shakes your hand. "Let's go find your lover." You laugh, following Jordan as the two of you start scanning the school for potential candidates.

"What about her?" You ask Jordan, nodding your head in the direction of a girl blowing bubbles. Jordan glances over at the girl blowing bubbles and raises an eyebrow. "Hmm, she seems carefree and fun-loving. Definitely a possibility," he teases. "But no!"

You continue searching, your eyes landing on a girl sitting alone in the library, engrossed in a book. "What about her?" you suggest to Jordan, pointing her out. Jordan observes her for a moment before responding, "Too boring."

"Ohhh, maybe her!" Jordan laughs loudly, pointing at a girl picking out her wedgie. You chuckle at Jordan's suggestion, but quickly shake your head. "I don't think so," you say, trying to stifle your laughter. "Let's keep looking."

"Hey! I'm the one picking here. I have the go-to." You shake your head. "Then pick."

Just as you say that a girl trips on her own shoelaces and stumbles forward, nearly falling face-first, Jordan bursts into laughter. "I think we have a winner!" You look over at the girl, who searches around to see if anyone has seen her embarrassing moment. She quickly regains her composure and brushes off the incident, pretending like nothing happened.

"Vada Cavell?" You yell at Jordan, "You've gotta be joking, man." Jordan chuckles and shrugs. "Hey, you said to pick. And she definitely caught my attention with that little stumble." You roll your eyes, not convinced that this is the best choice for your fake partner.

"Look. Ugly, bad personality, a bit on the smelly side, I can handle." You glance back at Vada, sighing.

"But I draw the line at someone who can't even walk without tripping over their own feet," you say, exasperated. Jordan laughs again, defending his choice. "A bet is a bet!" You open your mouth to argue again, but Jordan beats you.

"Hey, if I were you, I wouldn't be wasting my time. Because according to my calculations, you only have about four weeks to turn her into your perfect fake partner before Christmas. And if Vada Cavell is going to be that somebody, you've pretty much got your work cut off for you. "

You sigh and reluctantly agree, knowing that you can't back out of the bet now. You walk over to Vada Cavell, who is sitting with a blonde-haired girl at a table, engrossed in her phone.

"Hi, Vada. You got a second?" You ask, trying to sound casual as you approach her. Vada looks up from her phone with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. Mia, the blonde-haired girl, drops her jaw at the sight of you. You send her a small smile.

"Hi, Mia. I saw your soccer video on Instagram. "It was really impressive," you compliment, trying to make small talk. Vada raises an eyebrow, while Mia blushes. "You watch my videos?"

"You don't play soccer." Vada states matter-of-factly, glaring at her best friend. Mia looks sheepish, realizing your mistake. "Oh, sorry." You tell Mia who quickly brushes off the comment with a dismissive wave.

"So, Vada, listen," you begin, trying to redirect the conversation. "I was wondering maybe if you wanna..." Vada quickly stands up, interrupting you. "Let's go, Mia."

Mia gives you an apologetic smile before following Vada, leaving you feeling slightly embarrassed and rejected. You sigh, realizing that your attempt to ask Vada out didn't go as planned. "...embarrass me horribly in front of all these people?" You finish trailing off to yourself. You look back at Jordan, who's bending over, trying to stop himself from laughing so hard.

With a tight-lipped smile, you send him the finger, knowing that he's enjoying your embarrassment a little too much.

This was a bet, and you needed to win it. It wasn't like you were failing any of your classes, but you were tired of all the math homework Mr. Smith kept assigning. Plus, you'd love to see the defeated look on Jordan's face after Vada, and you successfully convinced your parents you found yourself a girlfriend.

In order to win this bet, you had to text Mia through Instagram direct messages and ask her where you could find Vada after school. Mia sent you a screenshot of Vada's Find My Phone, showing her location in a downtown park. You knew this was your chance to prove Jordan wrong and finally have some peace from Mr. Smith's math assignments.

Vada's eyes widen as she sees you walking closer to her, regardless, you send her your charming smile, which she doesn't reciprocate. "You know stalking is illegal in all 50 states, right?" Vada says, her voice laced with caution.

You quickly assure her that you were just trying to find her so you could talk. "I apologize if it seemed like stalking, but I genuinely wanted to have a conversation with you," you explain, hoping to ease her concerns.

"I'm not smart." Vada admits her eyes never leave yours. "What?" You breathe out a laugh, confused. "What? You think that I can tutor you or something?" Vada continues, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. "You're probably thinking, Oh, there's Vada, she dresses like a hippie—"

"Vada."

"—Barely has any friends."

"Vada."

"—She must at least be smart." You cut her off gently, placing a hand on her arm. "Vada, I have the fourth highest GPA in our grade." Vada looks at you with surprise evident in her eyes. "Really?" she asks, her voice filled with disbelief.

"Yes, really," you reply reassuringly. "It's true." You slightly jump at the sudden voice. Turning around, you see Vada's other best friend, Nick, sitting a few feet away.

"So what do you want? Is this some sort of dork outreach program?" Vada asks, rolling her eyes. "No, Vada," you say calmly, trying to hide your frustration. "I just wanted to hang out."

Vada raises an eyebrow, skeptical of your intentions. "Just hang out? With us?" she questions, her tone still laced with doubt. You nod, hoping to convince her that you genuinely want to enjoy their company. "Yeah, I thought it would be fun to get to know some new people," you explain, hoping she'll give you a chance.

"Sure, me and Vada were about to go to this stand-up comedy club. You can have my ticket if you want." Nick shrugs, ignoring the confused glare from his best friend.

Vada looks at Nick in surprise, clearly not expecting him to offer his ticket. "Really? You're giving up your ticket for her?" she asks, very confused. Nick shrugs again, flashing a grin while he holds out his ticket for you.

You take the ticket with a grateful smile, "Thank you, Nick. Are you sure? I could just buy my own if you want to go too." Nick shakes his head, "Nah, I've gotta go study for my presentation anyway." His phone chimes right after, and he quickly checks it, confirming his need to leave.

"Well, have fun at the club! Let me know how it goes," he says before hurriedly walking away. You watch him go, feeling a mix of gratitude and curiosity about why he would give up his ticket for you.

You send Vada a smile, "I guess I'm your plus one tonight." Vada narrows her eyes at you, still confused about why you, one of the most popular students in school, is so fascinated with her. "I'm still confused about why you're putting on this act. Are you trying to impress someone, or is there another reason behind it?"

You furrow your eyebrows, letting out a small laugh. "Are you always this skeptical? I assure you, there's no ulterior motive. I simply wanted to enjoy your company and spend the evening with you." Vada's expression softens slightly, but she still seems hesitant.

"Well, we should get going." Vada mumbles, brushing a small strand of hair behind her ear.

You follow Vada down the slightly busy streets, neon lights illuminating the sidewalks as people bustle by. You can't help but notice Vada's occasional glances in your direction, her guarded demeanor slowly melting away.

"I like your jewelry." It's unique and really suits your style," you comment, trying to ease the tension. Vada's face lights up with a genuine smile as she thanks you for the compliment.

"Do you always wear that letterman jacket? You look like you came straight out of a 90s movie." Vada says, laughing softly. "Oh, are you going to be an act too for this stand-up comedy thing?" You ask, joking.

"But, yeah, it's kind of my signature look," you reply with a chuckle. "I've always been drawn to that vintage aesthetic." Vada nods, her curiosity evident as she asks, "So, what other things inspire your style?"

"I don't know... I normally thrift a lot of my clothes," you admit. "Whether it's someone's old band t-shirt or their grandpa's old sweater, I love finding unique pieces. I also take inspiration from old photographs and films, especially from the 60s and 70s."

Vada smiles, clearly intrigued by your explanation. "I'm not a huge fashion before myself, but I don't know, I just like to be comfortable." You glance down at Vada's baggy attire, noticing the loose-fitting jeans and oversized hoodie.

"I totally get that," you reply. "Comfort is definitely important, and there's no right or wrong way to express yourself through fashion. It's all about finding what makes you feel good." Vada nods in agreement, playing with the drawstring on her hoodie.

There's an awkward silence as the comedian fails to deliver the punchline of his joke. Vada laughs in her own hand, trying not to be too loud. You can't help but smile as you glance at the shorter girl, confused. You lean into her ear, "I'm so confused. How was that funny?"

Vada chuckles and whispers back, "It wasn't. It was funny how no one was laughing." You glance around the room before laughing a bit yourself. She was right. Seeing the confused looks on everyone's faces made the situation even more amusing. It was as if the entire audience collectively missed the punchline.

You begin laughing even harder, unable to contain your amusement. The more you think about it, the funnier it becomes. Vada joins in on your laughter, hiding her face behind her hand as tears of laughter stream down her face.

"Why are you laughing, huh? You think it's easy to stand up here and try and do something you love?" The male comedian asks you, obviously upset that you're laughing at his expense. You quickly compose yourself, glancing at Vada, whose eyes are wide as she smiles, trying not to laugh again.

You raise your hand, trying to apologize for the misunderstanding, but the comedian interrupts you. "Well, if you think it's so easy, why don't you come up here and give it a shot?" he challenges, pointing towards the stage.

You shake your head with a tiny smile on your lips. "Come on, come up here." You squint your eyes as a light begins to shine on you from the stage. The audience starts cheering and encouraging you to take the comedian's challenge.

You look at Vada, "Go!" She says this, smiling as she pushes you from your seat. Reluctantly, you take a deep breath and make your way towards the stage, your heart beating in your chest. The comedian hands you the microphone with a smug look on his face.

Your shaky hands take the microphone, "Uh..." Your voice trembles as you try to gather your thoughts. You glance at an audience member who has a gutair strapped around their shoulder, and a lightbulb goes off in your head. "I'm not a comedian, but I can try and entertain you all another way."

With a nervous smile, you motion towards the audience member with the guitar, saying, "Can I borrow that for a second?" The audience member hesitates for a moment, but then nods and hands you the guitar. You place the microphone on its stand before stepping forward and strumming a few chords to test the sound.

"Something bad is bout' to happen to me. Why I feel this way, I don't know, baby." You sing with a raspy voice, closing your eyes and letting the music take over.

The crowd falls silent, captivated by the raw emotion in your performance. Vada is shocked, her eyes widening as she watches you on stage. She had no idea you could sing.

"I think of her so much it drives me crazy. I just don't want her to leave me."

You continue to sing Steve Lacy's iconic lyrics, pouring your heart out on stage. You hit the high notes, sending chills down the spines of everyone in the audience. This was much better than the comedy act they were just witnessing.

When you finish the song, Vada's the first one standing up and clapping, with others soon following. You open your eyes to see the crowd on their feet, their applause echoing through the venue. The look of surprise and admiration on Vada's face is priceless, and you can't help but smile broadly.

You push open the door to leave the club and are immediately greeted by a rush of cool night air. "That was so awesome! Just like...going up there and performing in front of all those people, it's such a rush," you exclaim, your eyes still shining with excitement.

Vada nods, her dimples deepening as she grins. "I never expected you to be such a natural on stage. It's like you were born to perform," she says, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

The two of you stop walking as you reach the edge of the sidewalk, taking a moment to catch your breath and let the adrenaline settle. The city lights twinkle above you, casting a magical glow on the vibrant streets below.

You glance over to Vada, and she glances back at you with a faint smile playing on her lips. "You hungry?" You ask, gesturing towards a nearby food truck. The tantalizing aroma of sizzling street food fills the air, making your stomach growl in response. Vada's eyes light up at the suggestion, and she nods eagerly, her excitement matching your own.

Vada smiles, her hair blowing in the wind due to the drop-top on your convertible. It's been three weeks since the comedy club, but the memory of that night still brings a smile to your face. The chemistry between you and Vada is undeniable, and you can't help but wonder what other adventures await the two of you.

Kali Uchis blasts through your speakers, filling the car with her soulful melodies. The warm sun kisses your skin as you drive along the scenic coastal road, creating the perfect backdrop for a carefree summer day.

You catch a glimpse of Vada through the side mirror, her hair blowing in the wind, and a contagious laugh escaping her lips. The connection between you two feels effortless, as if you've known each other for years.

"I just wanna get high with my lover!" Vada sings along to the lyrics, and you join in, "Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo!"

Vada leans in closer to you, kissing your cheek gently while she sings more of the lyrics. "Kiss, kiss! Looking dolly, I think I might go out tonight. I just wanna ride get high in the moonlight."

The song proceeds to play, and your singing becomes more enthusiastic, matching Vada's energy. You both dance and laugh, completely lost in the moment. Soon, you both arrive at the beach, your phone ringing as you step outside the car.

"Hello?" You answer the phone and hear Jordan's voice on the other end. "Y/N! Where are you? I just stopped by your house, and you weren't there. I wanted to hang out tonight."

Vada waits patiently for you to end the phone call, holding all of your stuff in her hands.

"Oh, I'm uh...I'm not home right now." You mumble into the phone, scratching your nose. "Well, no shit. Where are you?"

"I'm actually at the beach with Vada," you reply, glancing at Vada, who raises an eyebrow curiously. "But maybe we can hang out tomorrow." You can basically hear the grin on Jordan's face.

"The beach, huh? You and Vada have been hanging out nearly every damn day. Don't tell me you're actually enjoying this bet, Y/LN." You chuckle and respond, "Goodbye, Jordan."

You quickly end the call, sending Vada a smile. You take the items from her hands, thankful for her help. As you start setting up your spot on the beach, Vada asks, "So, what did Jordan want?"

"To bother me," you reply with a dismissive wave. "He's always trying to pry into my business." Vada raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but respects your privacy and doesn't press further. A part of you feels bad for becoming friends with Vada under such circumstances. She was a chill and easygoing person, and you found yourself truly enjoying yourself around her.

You couldn't help but wonder if you should tell her about the bet going on between you and Jordan or if you should just end the friendship altogether. It was a difficult decision to make, as you didn't want to risk losing the connection you had with Vada, but at the same time, keeping such a secret felt dishonest.

"Hey, where's the pump for this?" Vada asks, holding up the beach ball you packed with the rest of the beach gear. You smile, grateful for the distraction from your internal dilemma, and point her in the direction of the pump, except it's not there.

"Oh, shit." You frantically search through the beach bag, realizing that you must have forgotten to pack the pump. "Here, I'll just blow into it." You offer, trying to come up with a quick solution. However, as you start blowing into the beach ball, you quickly realize that it's going to take a lot more effort than you anticipated.

You feel yourself getting lightheaded as you continue to blow into the beach ball, desperately trying to inflate it. Vada giggles at your struggle, you send her a playful glare, but her laughter only encourages you to keep going.

"What if we take turns?" Vada suggests, hoping to alleviate some of the strain on you. You gratefully agree, handing her the faintly inflated beach ball. You expect her to wipe off the ball since your mouth was in fact directly on it, but she doesn't seem to mind.

Your heart begins racing. You basically just shared a kiss with Vada, even if it was through a beach ball. The thought of it sends a rush of excitement through your veins.

Vada hands you the ball back, slightly out of breath. You smile, hesitating for a moment before placing your lips on the ball again. After a while, the ball is fully inflated, and you both start tossing it back and forth, laughing and enjoying each other's company.

"Don't let it drop!" Vada yells out, her laughter echoing across the beach. You run as fast as you can, determined to keep the ball in the air. The sand squishes between your toes as you dive to smack it back into the air. The sound of the ball hitting your palm fills the air, creating a rhythmic pattern that matches the beat of your racing heart.

"God, do you play volleyball?" Vada asks, her eyes widening with excitement. You shake your head, catching your breath, and reply, "No, but I guess I could give it a try!"

You smack the ball a bit too hard, and it flies over Vada's head, landing in the sand behind her. She turns around, a playful grin on her face, and says, "I'm definitely not getting that." You chuckle, running over to retrieve the ball. Before you can, someone kicks it away, sending it rolling further down the beach.

"The fuck—" you stop yourself, looking up and noticing Jordan. Jordan, with a mischievous smirk on his face, shrugs and says, "Oops, my bad! Thought I'd give you a challenge."

"What are you doing here?" you ask, slightly annoyed by Jordan's interference. He chuckles and replies, "Just enjoying the beach with my friends."

You look behind him, noticing he's brought company—some of your friends and other people you've hung around with before. They wave at you, smiling and clearly excited to see you. Jordan adds, "We thought it would be fun to have a little gathering here. Hope you don't mind."

You narrow your eyes at your best friend. "You're an asshole. You're only doing this because I told you I was hanging out with Vada here." Jordan raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Come on, don't be like that. It's just a coincidence that you're both here too."

You let out a sigh, realizing that Jordan's actions were most likely intentional. Despite feeling annoyed, you decide to put aside your frustration and make the best of the situation. "Alright, fine. Now go get my beach ball."

Jordan smirks, clearly enjoying the power he holds over you. "Sure thing, but only if you promise to introduce me to Vada later." You roll your eyes, knowing that Jordan's ulterior motives are far from innocent.

You walk over to Vada, plopping down beside her on her towel. She looks up at you with a smile, unaware of the tension between you and Jordan. "Sorry about that. He just invited himself...and everyone else."

Vada smiles, shaking her head. "It's okay. If we're going to be friends, I'd have to meet your other friends anyway." You chuckle, relieved that Vada doesn't seem bothered by Jordan's presence.

You begin unbuttoning your shirt, feeling a bit hot in it, leaving you in your white tank top. Vada glances over at you, her eyes lingering for a moment before she looks away, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Jordan walks over and throws the beach ball, obviously aiming to hit your face. You quickly catch it, sending your best friend a glare. Jordan lets out a silly laugh, clearly enjoying the playful banter. Vada raises an eyebrow at Jordan's antics, but her smile remains intact as she watches the interaction between the two of you.

"Someone has the guns out." Austin, another one of your friends says, walking toward the group with a mischievous grin. You roll your eyes at his comment, playfully flexing your muscles in response.

"You mean these?" You flex your biceps, exaggerating the muscles for comedic effect. Austin chuckles and nods, teasingly adding, "Yeah, those tiny peashooters." You playfully throw the ball at him, pretending to be offended by his remark.

"Alright, stop showing off in front of the pretty lady." Jordan teases, winking at Vada. Vada's face breaks into confusion, as she wonders if Jordan's comment was meant as a compliment or a joke. She looks at Austin for clarification, who shrugs and smirks, leaving her even more uncertain about the situation.

"Let's play a full game of volleyball," Austin suggests, picking up the beachball that had been thrown at him. Vada eagerly agrees, grateful for the distraction from the awkward tension between Jordan and herself.

You all split into two teams, with Vada and Jordan on one side and Austin and you on the other. Jordan serves the ball with a powerful swing, causing Austin to dive to the sand to make a save.

"Stop trying so hard, bitch!" Austin yells at Jordan with a smile on his lips. Jordan laughs, brushing off the comment with a playful smirk. The friendly banter between them lightens the atmosphere, allowing everyone to relax and enjoy the game even more.

Mid-game, Vada takes off her slightly baggy shirt, which she tied with a knot at the front, revealing her bikini. You notice Jordan staring at Vada, his eyes lingering on her, causing jealousy to rise within you.

You smack the ball against Jordan's head, catching him off guard and breaking his gaze. He glares at you, earning a shrug, as you innocently raise your hands in defense. "You had a bug on your head."

You're dropping Vada off at her house after the game when she turns to you with a smile. "Thanks for saving me from Jordan's ogling," she says, playfully nudging your arm. "I owe you one."

You smile, blushing a bit. "You saw that?" You ask, your eye's widening slightly. Vada chuckles and nods, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, I definitely saw that. You were like my personal superhero swooping in to save the day."

"Well, I couldn't let him make you uncomfortable," you reply, feeling a surge of protectiveness. "I'm always here to look out for you." Vada's smile widens, and she leans in closer. You glance behind her and say, "I could walk you to the door.

Vada blinks and looks at you, her expression softening. "Sure." You quickly get out of the car, making your way to Vada's side. Shoving your hands in your pockets to hide your nerves, you match Vada's pace as you both walk towards her front door. The night air is cool, but the warmth of Vada's presence makes it feel comforting.

"If you want, we could hang out tomorrow?" You ask, hoping to spend more time with Vada. Before she could respond, her front door flies open. A short figure emerges from the doorway, causing both you and Vada to pause. It's Vada's younger sister who greets you with a friendly smile.

"Hey, guys! What are you up to?" she asks, oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Oh my god, Amelia." Vada exclaims, clearly annoyed with her younger sister's interruption. Amelia shrugs innocently, not realizing the impact of her sudden appearance. Vada takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself before addressing the situation.

"Mom! Vada brought a lesbian home!" Amelia shouts, slightly turning her head towards her mother, who is in the next room.

Everyone freezes, unsure of how to react to Amelia's unexpected announcement. Vada's face turns red with embarrassment while you thin out your lips, confused and a bit amused.

Vada's mouth drops. "I am so sorry." She says to you, her voice filled with genuine remorse. You shrug her off while Amelia gasps. "Oh, are you not a lesbian?"

You chuckle, "Um...I do like girls." Before Amelia could press you for more information, Vada's mom appears in the doorway. "What's going on here?" she asks, her voice laced with worry. Vada quickly explains the situation, hoping to diffuse any potential tension.

"I was just dropping Vada off from the beach," you also add, trying to ease any concerns. "We were just having a casual conversation, nothing serious." Vada's mom looks relieved and nods understandingly.

"Well, as long as everyone is okay," she says with a smile. You exchange a grateful glance with Vada, grateful for her mom's understanding.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Vada's mom offers, wanting to extend her gratitude for your honesty and reassure you that everything is alright. You glance at Vada, who stares at her mom with a shocked expression. "That would be really nice," you respond, feeling touched by Vada's mom's kindness.

Dinner was fun. Amelia had no filter, which made everything hilarious and entertaining. She shared funny and embarrassing stories of Vada, which Vada tries to interrupt with playful protests. Despite the initial shock, Vada soon joins in on the laughter, realizing that her sister's antics brought out a huge and genuine smile on your face.

There were also serious moments during dinner where Vada's parents questioned you about your future plans and aspirations. They were genuinely interested in your goals and offered advice and support. It was refreshing to have such meaningful conversations with Vada's family, making you feel like a valued member of their circle.

You throw yourself on Vada's bed, falling face first onto the soft pillows. Vada plops on top of your back, laughing at your dramatic entrance. She soon rolls off of you, and you lay on your back, gazing up at the ceiling.

Vada was such a breath of fresh air in your life. Her carefree spirit is infectious, and you can't help but feel happy every single time you're around her.

She has a way of making even the simplest moments feel special, and her laughter is like music to your ears. Being friends with Vada has brought so much joy and light into your life, and you can't imagine what it would be like without her.

Fuck this bet, you think to yourself. Vada's friendship is worth so much more than any silly wager.

"You look deep in thought." Vada's voice interrupts your contemplation, pulling you back to the present moment. "What's on your mind?" she asks, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

You turn your head towards Vada, a small smile forming on your lips. "I was just thinking about how grateful I am to have you as a friend," you say sincerely. "Your friendship means the world to me."

"You're so sappy." Vada mumbles, laughing softly. You break out into a smile. "I'm pouring my heart out here, c'mon!" You tease playfully, putting on an Italian accent.

Vada rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her amusement. "That was one of the worst Italian accents I've ever heard," she says, chuckling. "But...you mean a lot to me too."

You feel a warm rush of affection as Vada's words sink in. "I'm glad to hear that," you reply, licking your lips. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you both bask in the genuine connection and shared vulnerability. Your eyes never leave each other, as if speaking a language that only the two of you understand.

"Is that all?" Vada breaks the silence. "Or is there something else you want to say?"

"Be my girlfriend?" Vada's eyes widen with surprise, and she stares at you. She takes a moment to process your words before responding, "Okay."

"I'm even more excited than I was." Jordan smiles, "I can't believe you got away with that." You shake your head at your best friend, an eye roll following.

"No, seriously. You asked her to be your girlfriend, it's barely been a month, and you didn't even kiss her after? Shits crazy."

You put the last plate on the table, "Shut the fuck up, Jordan."

Jordan chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll drop it. But seriously, man, you might've won this bet. Still gotta get the parents approval, though."

You let out a sigh, saying, "Maybe we should drop this bet, man." Jordan raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "Are you getting cold feet already? Come on, don't tell me you're chickening out now."

You shoot him a glare but can't help but feel a twinge of doubt. "It's just... I don't want to risk ruining our friendship over some stupid bet." Jordan starts to smirk. "Oh shit, you actually caught feeling for her? You can't be serious."

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off Jordan's teasing. "So, what? She's a nice girl, and I don't want to mess things up with this stupid bet about her."

Jordan chuckles, bringing his fist to his mouth. "I can't believe you're actually considering backing out because of a little crush. You've never been one to shy away from a challenge before."

He sighs, adding to his argument. "How about this? If your parents go for it, we'll drop the bet. But if they don't, you have to tell her it was a bet and apologize for any hurt feelings. It's only fair to give her the truth and a chance to decide if she still wants to pursue a relationship with you."

"Fine." You mutter, leaving the room with a heavy sigh.

Vada arrives at your doorstep, a nervous smile on her face. She seems unaware of the bet that has been made and the doubts that have been plaguing you. As you open the door, you can't help but wonder if this could be the start of something real or if it's all just a game that will eventually come crashing down.

You bring Vada into a hug, mumbling into her ear, "I'm glad you're here." Vada returns the hug, sighing contentedly. You pull away, looking into her eyes.

"My dad is in the kitchen." Vada nods, hearing Bad Bunny blaring from the speakers. "Where's your mom?" You begin walking toward the kitchen, "She's in the living room, finishing up the tree. I'll introduce you to her later. Let's go say hi to my dad first." Vada smiles and follows you, playing with her ring as you lead the way.

"Una dominicana que es uva bombón!" Your dad shouts, singing the lyrics. Jordan joins in, singing the next line. "Uva, uva bombón!" You facepalm, shaking your head at their silliness. Vada giggles, clearly amused by their antics.

"Dad!" You shout, trying to regain their attention. "We have a guest here, remember?" Your dad and Jordan finally notice Vada standing there, and their faces light up with surprise and excitement. "Oh wow, who do we have here?" your dad asks, extending his hand towards Vada.

"This is Vada, my girlfriend." You introduce Vada with a smile. Vada returns the gesture, shaking your dad's hand warmly. "Girlfriend? Am I dreaming?" your dad exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I never thought I'd see the day! It's great to finally meet you, Vada."

You sigh at your father. "Es bonita, mija." You clear your throat, blushing a bit. "Suficiente papá." Your dad chuckles and playfully nudges you. "No need to be shy. I'm just happy to see you happy." Vada smiles warmly at both of you, grateful for the warm welcome.

Your mom walks in, her eyes widening with surprise as she takes in the scene. "Well, well, well," she says with a smirk. "Looks like someone finally found themselves a catch." You roll your eyes at your mom's teasing, but deep down, you appreciate her support and acceptance.

Vada begins talking to your parents while you excuse yourself to speak to Jordan. "Looks like I won the bet." You say with a playful smile, feeling a sense of triumph. Jordan chuckles and shakes his head, admitting defeat.

"Jordan, Y/N, come help me bring out the food." Your mom calls out, breaking the playful banter between you and Jordan. You both exchange amused glances before making your way to help her, Vada also joins, eager to lend a hand.

Jordan is the last to leave the kitchen, hearing your parents talk about Vada. "Crees que es otro truco?" Your dad asks your mom. Jordan leans against the kitchen counter, listening intently to your parents' conversation about Vada. He raises an eyebrow, curious about their suspicions.

"No lo sé, cariño. Parece genuino, no crees?" Your dad shrugs at your mother's question, contemplating the authenticity of Vada's intentions. Jordan rushes out to the dining room, catching you staring at Vada like a lovesick puppy.

"Y/N." Jordan calls out your name, interrupting your daydreaming and bringing you back to reality. You hum, nodding your head at him. "Can I talk to you for a second?" You nod and follow Jordan to a quieter corner of the room.

"I heard your parents talking about how they think this is a trick." He begins to smirk, "Maybe this bet may be mine anyways." You roll your eyes, tired of this stupid bet.

"Whatever bro. I just wanna eat and enjoy dinner without any drama." Jordan chuckles, his smirk fading slightly. "Come on, Y/N. You know it's all in good fun. Besides, it's not like Vada and you are actually gonna last." You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what he's getting at.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, leaning in closer to Jordan. "Are you trying to say that Vada and I don't have a real connection?" Jordan shrugs, a sneaky glint in his eyes. "I'm just saying, Y/N, relationships at our age rarely go the distance. But hey, prove me wrong."

You scoff at him, "Sure...whatever you say. Don't be shocked when Vada and I prove you wrong and end up together for the long haul." Jordan raises an eyebrow, his sneaky glint fading slightly. "Well, I guess time will tell," he concedes, a hint of doubt in his voice.

When dinner ends, everyone begins to clean up and put away the dishes. "Have you seen my AirPods anywhere?" you ask Jordan, hoping he might have seen them. "You left them in my car like an entire month ago."

You roll your eyes and playfully nudge him. "Seriously? You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?" Jordan chuckles and shrugs. "I guess I wanted to see how long it would take for you to realize they were missing."

"You're a dickhead."

"Language!" From the kitchen, your mom scolds, reminding you to watch your language. You sheepishly apologize and snatch Jordan's keys from him. He glares at you, pulling at his phone that began ringing in his pocket.

"Wanna get some air?" You ask Vada, gesturing towards the open front door. Vada nods, following behind you as you step outside. "Your parents are nice. They're pretty chill, and your mom is honestly like drop-dead gorgeous."

You chuckle. "Do I have to compete with my mom for your attention now?" Vada laughs and playfully nudges you. "Nah, don't worry. You're more than enough for me."

You walk to Jordan's car, leaning against it as you wait for Vada to join you. "Wanna sit in the car?" You suggest, knowing that it might be more comfortable than standing outside. Vada considers for a moment before agreeing, "Sure, why not? It's a bit chilly out here." You both settle into the car, leaning back in the back leather seats.

Silence falls between you as you take in the peacefulness of the moment.

You look over at Vada, a soft smile playing on your lips. Vada turns her head to you before sitting up in her seat, leaning forward slightly. Her eyes fall to your lips, staring at them intently.

Without thinking, she leans in closer, capturing your lips with a gentle yet passionate kiss. The warmth of her touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself lost in the moment, forgetting about the chilly weather outside.

The kiss begins to deepen as Vada's hands slide up to cup your face, pulling you even closer. You find yourself melting against her lips, savoring the taste of her soft, sweet breath.

You pull away, breathless and hot, your heart racing as you lock eyes with Vada. "Can I turn on the A/C?" You mutter to the freckled-faced girl. Vada chuckles but nods regardless.

You put the key in the ignition and start the car, the engine purring to life. The cool air from the A/C quickly fills the car, providing a refreshing contrast to the heated moment that just transpired.

You bring Vada into another kiss, more passionate and urgent than before. The intensity between you both grows as you explore each other's mouths, losing yourselves in the heat of the moment. Your hand is tangled in Vada's hair, pulling her closer to you if that were possible.

"Y/N's still doing that bet with Vada?" You recognize that voice, it was Austin. You pull away from Vada, your eyes falling on Jordan's car screen, confirming he was on the phone with Austin. It must've connected to the car automatically, allowing Austin's voice to fill the car.

You quickly release Vada and feel a rush of embarrassment wash over you. You exchange a nervous glance with Vada, hoping Austin doesn't go in detail about the bet you've been participating in.

"It's silly, really. This all started because she didn't wanna do her math homework? So she decided to start dating baby Adam Sandler and introduce her to her parents? That's pretty fucked up. If I were Vada, I'd be pissed."

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart. The weight of Austin's words hangs heavy in the air. You hope that Vada understands that it was all just a silly game and that she won't hold it against you.

"Is he serious? A bet? Am I a bet to you?" You feel a knot forming in your stomach as Vada's voice trembles with hurt and disbelief. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and you quickly shake your head, desperately trying to find the right words to explain yourself.

"Am I a fucking bet to you?" Vada's voice cracks with anger, and tears well up in her eyes. The pain in her words cuts deep, leaving you speechless and filled with regret. You reach out to touch her arm, hoping to convey your sincerity and remorse, but the damage may already be done.

Vada pushes away your arm, opening the car door and slamming it shut behind her. Her actions speak louder than words, and you watch helplessly as she walks away, leaving you to grapple with the consequences of your thoughtless words.

Jordan rushes to the driver's side of the door, out of breath. "Did she hear?" Jordan asks, panting as he rests his hand on the car door. The worry in his eyes mirrors your own as you shake your head, uncertain of how to fix the mess you've made. "She did."

It's been two days, and you've called Vada's phone and sent multiple texts, but there's been no response. The silence only amplifies your guilt and regret as you desperately hope for a chance to apologize and make things right.

You decide to call her house phone, surprised when someone answers. "Mrs. Cavell?" You ask on the phone, hoping to speak with Vada's mother. "It's Amelia, asshole. Don't call again."

You're bewildered by the harsh response from Amelia. You never expected her to be so angry and hostile toward you. "Amelia, please. Just put your sister on the phone."

You plead, hoping to reason with Amelia and convince her to let you speak with Vada. However, Amelia's voice remains firm and cold as she refuses your request, leaving you feeling even more desperate and regretful.

"If I buy you $100 worth of slime supplies, will you let me talk to Vada?" you offer, trying to find a compromise. But Amelia's response is immediate and resolute, "No amount of slime supplies will change my mind. Don't contact us again."

"Fine! $200!" you exclaim, desperation creeping into your voice. Amelia stays silent for a moment, finally giving in. "Our parents are out. If you come over, you have ten minutes to speak to her." Relief washes over you as Amelia finally agrees to let you talk to Vada, even if it means spending more money.

With a renewed sense of urgency, you quickly make plans to rush over to their house within the given time frame, hoping that this opportunity will help mend the strained relationship between you and Vada.

You burst through Vada's room, and she jumps up in surprise, her eyes widening as she takes in your unexpected presence. "I'm on limited time by your sister, so I have to make this quick."

You take a deep breath, walking closer to Vada. "I made that bet before I met you, Vada. And spending time with you made me realize that winning that bet was not what was important anymore. What matters to me now is repairing our relationship and showing you how much you mean to me."

Vada's expression softens as she listens, her guard slowly starting to come down. "I never wanted to hurt you, Vada. I want us to start fresh and build something real together."

"What was it for anyway? I mean, what did you end up losing?" Vada asks, her curiosity piqued. You take another step closer before continuing. "I lost a lot of things, Vada. I lost your trust, our connection, and the chance to truly be there for you. But what I gained was the realization that you are the most important person in my life and the one girl that my parents truly approve of."

Vada stands up, playing with the bottom of her shirt. She looks down for a moment, deep in thought, before finally meeting your gaze. "Don't make me sing again." You jokingly mutter, looking down at the shorter girl.

Vada's eyes widen, and a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "No, not this time," she says playfully. "But I do expect you to make it up to me in some other way."

You smile, leaning down and lifting Vada's chin with your finger. Vada glances at your lips before looking back up into your eyes. You smirk before closing the distance between you, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss.

Your worries fade away, drowning in the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage. Vada's arms wrap around your neck, pulling you closer, and you can't help but let out a content sigh against her lips.

As you pull away, Vada's cheeks flush with a rosy hue, and she bites her lip, opening her mouth to speak but is interrupted. "Ten minutes is up. Where's my $200?" Amelia says from Vada's door, holding out her hand expectantly.

Vada pulls away from you, confused. "What is she talking about?" You clear your throat. "I might've...um...made a deal with Amelia so she could let me talk to you."

Vada's eyes widen in surprise as she processes your words. "You paid her to see me?" she asks, laughing. You smile sheepishly, "Well, I wanted to make sure I had a chance to talk to you without any interruptions. It was worth every penny."

Vada's laughter fills the room as she playfully nudges your shoulder, "You're ridiculous, but I'm glad you did."

#tonyspank #wattpad #jenna ortega x reader #reader insert #vada cavell x reader #vada cavell x y/n #vada cavell #vada cavell x you #vada x y/n #vada cavell x fem reader #vada x reader #she’s all that

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allysunny · 5 months

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HI CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE BALE!BATMAN ONE SHOTS AND SCENARIOS AND DO THE ALPHABET THING!! TYSM ILY THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE🙏🙌🫡

Bale!Batman Scenarios and Fluff Alphabet

Words: 8k words

Warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of suggestive and adult themes, mentions of panic attacks, hopefully not OOC Bruce (literally the second thing I've written for him). I wrote this with female pronouns in mind, but aside for the word "girlfriend" which appears twice, and the word "mother" which appears once, I think it can be gender neutral as well - I'm sorry, I don't know how to write for gender neutral yet!

A/N: Hey everyone! I've had this in my drafts for like two days, and I thought today was a nice day to post it hehehe! This is another one of my Bruce requests, I'm so happy about it! I didn't know what "alphabet thing" you wanted, so I went with the Fluff alphabet, which was what I thought you meant. I used both the coldest goodbye's and snk warriors templates because I loved them so much, so credit to them! I took a few entries from each because I couldn't simply stick to one.

This was supposed to be short and small and sweet but I think I'm unable to write short stuff, and that's how I ended up with a 8k "short drabble"... I actually forgot people usually pick A FEW letters from the alphabet and write for them... So I ended up writing for all of them... Oops... Sorry... But on the other hand, there's not nearly as much Bale!Bruce content out there, and I want to change that! So! 0 Regrets!!!

(You can also notice as the alphabet entries get shorter and shorter because it was getting super late and I refused to go to sleep... Oops!)

Anyway, I had a fun time writing this! I love this man so much oh my god... I hope you guys enjoy it!

It’s not rare when people tell you “You hit the jackpot” when it comes to Bruce. Whenever he’s nearby, he’ll quickly swoop in and correct whoever was talking to you. “Actually, I’m the lucky one,” he says in that ever so charismatic voice of his, making you blush.

Both statements are true. Yes, you landed Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, ex-playboy, philanthropist, and lover of fine things in life Bruce Wayne. Bruce “I have a car for each day of the week” Wayne. Bruce “You fly coach? That’s funny, I have my own private jet” Wayne. Bruce “My vacations are on the West Wing of my manor because it’s so god damn big” Wayne.

But he’d landed you. Selfless, caring, funny, you. “I don’t need anyone’s protection” You. “I don’t care if you’re filthy rich, we’re staying at my place and eating noodles for dinner” you. “My feet are so sore, please carry me back to the mansion please?” you. “No – you’re going to stand up right now and learn how to do the dishes properly Bruce Wayne, this is unacceptable, how old even are you?” you. He was the lucky one. He managed to find someone who loved him for him. Not for the money, not for the fame, but him.

You preferred catching the train and walking over getting lifts in his fancy cars. “It attracts too much attention – I don’t need the whole entire world knowing I’m out with you.” You’d mumble, and that was the end of it. You enjoyed lazing around in his Manor, but in a “holy fuck this place is so comfortable I’m going to take a nap, I’ll see you in two hours” rather than a “I need to let everyone know I’m currently staying inside Wayne Manor, they will not believe it!” You treated it like home, splaying yourself on couches when tired, cleaning up after yourself and decorating bit by bit – Bruce loved that you were leaving your touch in his home. It meant that, somehow, it was also yours.

You’d change simple things really. Wayne Manor was beautiful as it was, and you had no need to replace it or turn it into something new – no. You got yourself some fluffy towels, replaced a bathroom rug that had seen better days, bought a shelf for the living room. It was his home, yes, and the home of his family before him, but he loved you and wanted you to feel comfortable and wanted you to leave your traces all around his home.

That’s not to say he won’t spoil the hell out of you. He loves your casual dates. Picnics in your living room or his, lazy Sundays spent looking at the clouds in his vast gardens, night spent in each other’s arms, the air cackling with silent promises and love confessions. But he’s Bruce Wayne. He has the means, and Gotham be damned if he wasn’t going to spend them on you.

You still weren’t very comfortable with going to charity galas with him, but Bruce still loved seeing you wear whatever dresses he got for you. So, he’d make reservations at fancy hotels, get a private table, and enjoy a quiet dinner with the love of his life. Away from prying eyes, you could finally be your usual self, cracking jokes and flirting with him.

“Anything interesting happen today at that dreadfully boring job of yours?” You asked him one night, toying with the fork on your hand. He finished drinking from his wine and gave you a comical look. “Not really. Just more of the same. Boring papers, boring meetings, boring people trying to steal my job and my company. The usual.” He said it so matter-of-factly, it almost seemed like nothing you should worry about. But you knew better. “I wonder when they’re going to stop trying. Should we be worried, Bruce?” “Not at all,” he drank again. “My father worked hard to build this company and get it where it is today. It’ll take more than a few angry petty businessmen to take it away from me.” You still eyed him curiously. “My love, I promise all is okay. Everything’s under control.”

You weren’t worried he was going to lose all his money and stop spoiling you. You’d be happy to live in a one apartment studio with no furniture and no money if it meant you could have him with you. But you knew how greedy people could be. You’d watched as some very sketchy men tried to take Bruce’s company away from him, over and over again, trying to destroy what Thomas Wayne had worked so hard to get, and it hurt.

“Fine. But if something ever happens, you just let me at them. I’d have a thing or two to say!” Bruce smiled at you, leaned over the table to caress your cheek, and continued eating.

On date nights in which you end up snuggled up in the couch watching a movie, you two already have assigned positions. Either he’s sitting with his legs spread on the couch, and you’re lying on top of his chest, or you’re sitting normally while he lays with his head on your lap. No one can tell, but Bruce is completely whipped by you. Sometimes, all he wants is to fall asleep on your lap as you gently massage his scalp. You two take so long picking movies, it’s insane. Sometimes, Alfred makes popcorn and you’ve both finished it before you’ve picked a movie, because you’re both stubborn as hell.

You know he is Batman. He told you, but you were able to figure it out a few weeks into your relationship. Not like it was that hard – he was often “busy” with work, although everyone had left the company and he was the only one there at around 4am, the bruises all over his chest and back (Bruce hated polo. He’d never pick it up), the tiredness he displayed in some of your dates and his fucked up sleeping schedule. One time he cancelled dinner on you, and a few hours later, the TV was covering a Batman chase.

You weren’t that dumb.

You were going to confront him, when found the Batcave by accident. You’d found this random ass room you could’ve sworn you’d never seen in your entire life with a piano. And just like every kid when they see a piano, you sat in front of it. If you do know how to play the piano, it wasn’t deliberate, but at the same time, it kind of was. You were playing some scales, warming up your fingers, and doing silly little exercises you’d been taught as a kid when you struck those three notes.

If you don’t play the piano, well, you were just hitting keys at random. You played a few high notes, a few low notes, and then, in true child fashion, just hit some random notes in the middle, pretending you were the next Mozart or Beethoven.

When the bookshelf in front of you opened, you nearly jumped. Why was a bookshelf opening. How was that possible? What sort of thing was Bruce hiding that was so, so secret, he had to keep it behind a secret passageway?

Instead of leaving the room, calling for Alfred or even Bruce, you decided to do what any great adventurer does, you stepped inside the passage and into the elevator. When you reached the bottom, all you could do was stare. Holy shit. Was this some sort of cave? You walked around a bit, curious but also far too scared to actually touch anything. You weren’t getting yourself killed today, nuh-uh.

What even was this place? Was it some kind of weird sex dungeon? Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought – Bruce had never told you anything about it. Was this a torture room? Did he take all his victims here to kill them? And then eat them? Oh God. Were you his next victim?

“Honey?” you heard behind you, and your first instinct was to place a protective hand in front of you.

“Stay back!” you shouted, “I took three karate classes, I can knock you down unconscious!”

Bruce’s expression was one of confusion.

“I’m not going to hurt you, just –“

“Your charm doesn’t work on me Bruce; I will take you down! You can’t kill me and eat me!”

“What?!”

“I don’t care if this is your torture room, I will kick your ass!”

Bruce then proceeded to laugh. How dare he?!

“It’s not funny! Do you always laugh before murdering your victims?!”

“I don’t murder anyone. This isn’t a torture room.” He approached you slowly, hands coming up. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can you please leave that stance? You’re going to hurt yourself if you try to punch me like that. Your legs aren’t balanced, you’re going to trip and fall face first.”

You stuck your tongue out and returned to a normal standing position before he ran a hand through his head and sighed.

“So. You found it.” he mumbled.

“Found what, exactly?”

“My cave.”

“Oh my god. Is this the Batcave?!” You were so excited; you didn’t even realise the words that had left your mouth before it was too late.

Bruce’s eyes widened and he looked at you intently.

“What did you say?”

Shit.

Your next sentence started with,

“So. I know you’re the Batman –“

He had a lot of explaining to do.

He was surprised you figured it out so quickly, but of course, in true Bruce Wayne fashion, he did try to drive you away to keep you safe. He tried everything. Telling you he wanted to break up, ignoring your phone calls and messages, refusing to leave his Manor whenever you wanted to talk. Except, it never worked. You loved him far too much, suit and all. One time you’d visited him, and it started raining. Always worried about your health, Bruce rushed downstairs and opened the door, inviting you in. You told him you weren’t giving up on him. He said you should – he had to keep you safe. You said you wouldn’t. You’re in this together. He said you weren’t. You denied it.

It was a bit of a back and forth between Bruce realised what he had to do. Just before he could finish saying “I don’t love you,” you cut him off with a kiss. Instinctively, his hands snaked around your waist, and he brought you closer. “Never say that. Please. Don’t shut me out.” You whispered against his lips, hands cupping his jaw with such delicacy, Bruce was sure you believed to be holding the entire world in your hands – which to you, you were.

All he could do was nod against your lips and bring you inside. He didn’t push you away ever again.

Things were hard sometimes. There were times when Bruce had to postpone your plans. You’d spent a few nights on your own, blanket comfortably wrapped around your body as you watched a movie by yourself and lamented the absence of your boyfriend. Alfred had found you many times laying on your shared bed, clutching his pillow tightly, hoping his scent would bring you comfort. He quickly shared this news with his master, who, although heartbroken, couldn’t find a permanent solution. You needed him, but Gotham did too.

That’s not to say he didn’t try.

He really did.

Some patrol nights he’d end early, just to be able to get a few hours curled up against you in bed. He’d take days off from his job at Wayne Enterprises to take you on dates and just hang out with you and remind you of just how important you are.

But he’s not entirely perfect – we’re talking about Bruce Wayne in here. Bruce “I grew up with staff and butlers and maids around me, do you actually think I can cook an omelette or clean up after myself?” You had to teach this man how to clean (in general), had to give him some cooking lessons and make sure he didn’t get himself killed whenever you or Alfred weren’t home.

“No, Bruce, you need to stir the rice, otherwise it’s going to –“ You flipped the pot upside down and the burnt rice refused to fall, bending gravity to its will. “Burn. It’s going to burn.” Bruce looked at you with the eyes of a wounded puppy, and as much as you wanted to get mad at him, you just couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll do better next time.” With a sigh, you started scraping the burnt mess into the trash. “You better. Otherwise, you’re eating it.”

He has a terrible habit of throwing some of his clothes on the ground. He’s so used to having people pick up after him, he can’t help it. Sometimes, when he’s in a rush, he’ll throw his clothes somewhere and rush to the batcave. You hate it that Alfred has to pick up his clothes as if he were a reckless teenager, so you’ve started making Bruce be more careful, place them on the dirty clothes hamper or do his own laundry.

“It’s what I pay Alfred to do –“ “It doesn’t mean you can’t help around just a bit. You wouldn’t be that cruel, would you?” He sighed. Bruce would never be able to say no to you.

You hate it when he leaves in the middle of chores to go put on a suit. Can’t villains and criminals wait until your movie is done? Until you’ve finished dinner? Until dinner is over? Sometimes he can’t be helped – hostage situations, fires, explosions – all normal things in Gotham. And you get it, you really do. But you hate it when he must leave because of other, more avoidable reasons. Like when he has to go to the office to go check some sort of new suit technology that Fox is working on. It sucks.

To make up for that, he always lets you tag along whenever he has to leave on business trips. It’s bad enough the two of you have to be apart because of Batman – he’s not about to have you two be apart because of Bruce Wayne. You love flying in the jet – often you joke that that is the only reason you’re dating him, because you get to fly in his private jet. (He’ll always refute you, but sometimes, you can see it in his eyes he is afraid you mean it. When that happens, you place a kiss on his lips and promise him you’re joking. His mood instantly changes.)

You especially like the privacy of the luxury. No, you weren’t with him for the money, but Bruce liked spoiling you and sometimes you liked to be spoiled. But being spoiled in public attracted too much attention, too many people peering and trying to get a glimpse of your personal life and his wealth. The jet made it easy for you to allow yourself to be spoiled, and for Bruce to dote on you all he wanted.

In these trips, Bruce always books the fanciest rooms at the best hotels, and you have a blast exploring them and just overall enjoying the experience. Bruce thinks it’s endearing. You’re used to his wealth by now, but it’s sweet to see how genuinely dazzled you still are by all of the luxury and extravagance. He especially likes how you make it your mission to try on and christen every single bathtub in the suites he books – and as established before, when has Bruce been able to refuse you?

Fluff Alphabet

A = Affection

How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Bruce wasn’t a very affectionate person at first. He wasn’t used to the gentleness of affection; all he knew was the roughness of combat and hate and revenge – but you came along and changed everything. At first, he was a bit wary. You’d touch him and he’d flinch, quick to get on a more alert stance. It was only after he saw who it was that he’d relax. It took a while, but he eventually got more into it. And he became very affectionate. I mean, look at him. This is one hell of a touch starved man.

He started out slowly, by gentle touches here and there. Maybe a caress in your arm, or a hand on your thigh while you two watched a movie. Perhaps he’d link his hand with yours while you walked, or he’d bring you close whenever you kissed him. Gesture after gesture, he became more comfortable around you. He likes always having his arms around you. Not only he gets to touch you and know you’re there, but he can also protect you. It’s an affectionate gesture as much as it is a way to keep you safe.

He likes to have you close to him when you’re in bed. Sleeps with an arm firmly around your waist, be it when you’re spooning, or when you’re facing his chest. That’s his way of saying “I’m going to protect you, I promise you”. He feels like it is his job to keep you safe and conveys that through touch and affection.

B = Beauty

What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He thinks you’re the most beautiful person to have ever graced this earth. He loves you. He laid his eyes on you and was starstruck.

He likes the way your eyes sparkle whenever you’re talking about something you like. He feels like every inch of your body just radiates warmth and excitement once you start ranting about your hobbies and loves how passionate you are. Loves staring into your eyes. His favourite colour has become the shade of your eyes, and he loves waking up to them. It’s his favourite part about you, probably. Mostly because they never regard him with hate or disgust. Even if you’re mad at him, he knows your eyes will never betray you or your heart. They’re the windows to the soul, and to his heart.

He loves whatever birth marks and freckles you might have on your body. If you feel insecure about them, he’ll just remind you of how special you are, and how unique they make you. “If you had one less freckle, it wouldn’t be you. And I love you. See this one right here? If it was gone, the person standing in front of me wouldn’t be you.” Needless to say, he makes you melt every time.

C = Comfort

How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He’s had to deal with quite a few of those as a child after his parents’ murder, so he knows to give you space whenever you have panic attacks. He’ll stay close by and give you all the time you need, as well as space to breathe. If you need him and call for him, he’ll be there next to you, helping you through it, speaking in a soothing voice and just making sure you know you’re not alone. If you need his touch to calm down, he’ll wrap his arms around you and slowly rock you in his lap, talking you through everything.

One thing about Bruce is, he is always there for you and gives you either the space or the attention you need. He is also very vocal, should you need some grounding. Talks to you about his day, lists the furniture around you, names countries the two of you have visited or he’d like to take you to. Just overall very considerate.

As for cheering you up, it takes a while before he knows what to do – he’s not the best with emotions after all. He tries not to say much and just show that he’s there for you through simple gestures. Asking Alfred to cook you your favourite dish, bringing you your favourite ice cream, bringing you to the living room to watch a movie you like. At first, he’s not good with his words, but he’s learning, and you appreciate that the most.

D = Dreams

How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He’d like to live out a long life by your side. That’s it. As lame as it sounds, that’s all he wants. For Gotham to become a safe place for you to grow old with him and be together forever.

There’s something inside of him that doesn’t want to let the cowl and the cape go. Batman is who he truly is, Bruce is merely a vessel. But there’s another one that wishes he can finally give it up. Giving it up would mean Gotham is safe, that the people are doing fine and there are no real danger and threats looming around the corner, just waiting to hurt him.

Whatever happens, cowl and cape hung up or not, he does see a future with you. He’s never been a big fan of dreaming about what’s to come; Bruce didn’t think he had a chance at that, to see what is to come. But ever since you came into his life, his views have changed. He sees the both of you strolling around the Manor hand in hand.

If you want children, he’ll be a bit apprehensive at first. He doesn’t want to drag any more people into his life, too afraid to hurt them, or have others hurt them. But if you do mention that you would like to have children (or adopt!), he would eventually come around to the idea. If you want to have children, he’d definitely like the idea of continuing his blood line, of seeing you carry his child and becoming the mother of his children. And would be absolutely whipped for you (more than he already is!). If you want to adopt, he would come to love the idea of providing guidance, love, and a safe home for a child – being an orphan, he knows how dark and gloomy things can get, and how hopeless everything might seem at first. He’d want to give back.

E = Equal

Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

This is a very hard question, because I can definitely see him being both.

I can see him being the big bad scary wolf who takes care of his partner, gets down on his knees to tie your high heels and kiss your ankle softly, who will carry you in his arms when you’re far too tired to walk, who will make you weak at the knees, who will tell the waiter you ordered your burger with no pickles and make you feel safe, protected and cared for.

But at the same time, he doesn’t mind being a bit passive. He likes seeing you make decisions for him. There’s so much on his mind already, with Wayne Enterprises and Batman, sometimes he just needs to sit back and relax, and let you take the wheel. Which you do wonderfully, taking a huge weight off his shoulders. So, it’s a bit 50/50 and honestly depends on the day and his mood.

F = Fight

Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He loves you far too much to stay angry at you for long. In fact, he’s usually the one in the wrong. But fuck it if he won’t fight for your forgiveness. He’ll go the whole nine yards and be as sappy as possible. Send you bouquets of flowers while you’re at work, showing up unannounced and giving you chocolates, whatever. When the fights are silly and over dumb matters, he’ll do those overly romantic things, knowing you’ll most likely find them funny and accept his apology. If he’s willing to embarrass himself like that for you, it means he loves you. Truly.

But if the fight is something more serious, he’ll stop with the jokes. He’ll nearly beg for your forgiveness. Most fights happen because of the elephant in the room: The Dark Knight. Batman. Gotham’s Vigilante. Sometimes you accuse him of loving the symbol of justice more than you and are afraid he’s succumbing to it. You storm out of the Manor, far too angry to look at his face. In those cases, he’ll have to win you over slowly. He’ll give you some time to cool off and then invite you over to talk – there’s no way he’s discussing something like this over the phone. He’s not dumb. You’re far too important to be a mere phone call or a few messages.

Overall, I think he would fight extremely hard for you, be it in general (in life) or after arguments, and that he’s somewhat forgiving. Unless you really really really screwed up – then he’ll be a bit harsher. But that is only if you truly fucked up. Took advantage of him for his health, hurt Alfred, exposed Batman, whatever.

G = Gratitude

How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s so grateful. He knows all you do for him and appreciates it very much. He knows you’re doing your best to take care of him, patch him up, make sure he’s fed and healthy and sane, and he loves you so much for it (and many other reasons).

He’s sure to let you know just how much he loves you, be it through words or actions. Maybe he tried to cook for you and prepare you a nice breakfast in bed. Maybe he bought that new perfume you’d been in love with for quite a few weeks. Maybe he took the day off and whispered sweet words into the crook of your neck in the mornings, sheets and limbs all tangled up.

He knows he struck gold, and he will always be grateful for it.

H = Honesty

Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He is Batman.

Enough said.

No, seriously now, this man has more secrets than the White House.

And he doesn’t share them all.

You know he is Batman, and you know what he does, but there’s things he just can’t bring himself to tell you. The things he sees, people, women, children dying and being tortured, the things he sometimes has to do. It can get pretty overwhelming, and he finds these topics far too dreadful. He doesn’t want to worry you with matters like these, so he doesn’t. Of course, you get worried. You beg him to confide in you, to tell you what’s wrong, to trust you.

And he does – trust you. It’s just hard for him to share with you the roughest parts of his nights. When this happens, he’ll lay his head on your lap, as you run his fingers through his hair.

Rough night, he silently says.

I’m here, you silently reply.

I = Inspiration

Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

It’s no lie you’ve helped him become a better person.

He adores your goodness, your kindness and selflessness. He’s become a more genuine person himself thanks to you. He’s become more open, more caring. He’s become more trustful of those that truly care about him, and you’re to blame for it. You’re the reason he gets up in the morning and goes out dressed in black at night. You make him want to keep this godforsaken city safe and make you proud.

He’s changed you too, of course. Taught you there’s nothing bad with enjoying life and the finer things in it. Taught you that you do deserve to treat yourself occasionally. He’s taught you that being brave is not only putting on a suit and fighting crime, and that sometimes, but the smallest of steps can also be enough.

Safe to say, you’ve both changed each other, and for the best.

J = Jealousy

Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh, boy.

This is what everyone’s been waiting for, isn’t this?

Bruce Wayne is the son of wealthy philanthropist Thomas Wayne and his wife Martha Wayne. He is worth billions of dollars. He’s grown up with a massive silver spoon (or rather, gold) in his mouth. Long story short, Bruce Wayne does not know how to share.

Neither does he like to do it.

Especially when it comes to you. He can be extremely petty.

He’ll see someone flirting with you and immediately get possessive. Once, at a party, he saw a man trying to make you laugh, and succeeding. He was next to you within seconds, hand possessively wrapped around your waist and lips covertly touching the column of your neck.

“Who are you speaking to, my love?” asked Bruce, fingers softly tapping against your waist.

“Oh, this is Mr. Norton. He’s –“

“Mr. Norton, what a pleasure to meet you. And may I ask what your intentions with my girlfriend are?” Bruce took your hand in his, making it a point to showcase the silver band in your finger, a promise ring he’d given to you as a gift.

“Oh – Mr. Wayne, I wasn’t – I was simply – “ Poor Mr. Norton tried scrambling for words, but was clearly dumbfounded.

“Which is it? Were you, or weren’t you?” Bruce lifted his head from your neck and gave you a soft peck in the lips, before turning to the other man. “Mr. Norton, I am a very busy man, and you should imagine I don’t like repeating myself – “

“Yes, of course, Mr. Wayne, of course –“

“Stay away from my girlfriend. Are we clear?” He gave Mr. Norton one of his most charming Bruce Wayne smiles (full of “look at her again and I’ll break your legs” undertones) and led you away. Later, you would tease him about it, and how jealous he got.

But he can’t help it.

You’re his. You’re the love of his life, and he can’t just stand by and watch as other men and women throw themselves at your feet, begging them for an ounce of attention. He’s not afraid of causing scandals, of making scenes, if it means other people will leave you alone.

In fact, I can recall a very important party of his that ended up with you pressed against the door of a broom closet, and him all over you. Later, you’d return to said party and be confused as to why nearly ever women in the room looked at you in horror. A woman on good terms with you handed you her pocket mirror, and you watched in disbelief as the column of your neck was covered in reddish-purple bruises. You shot Bruce a look, and he only winked at you, mouthing “Sorry” with his mouth.

No other men approached you that night, far too scared of your boyfriend to approach you. They got the memo. You were his.

K = Kiss

Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Bruce has just enough experience with kissing that he’s not completely lost. I think he would be the type not to actually bed the women he went out with for show (before he met you, of course), but has sometimes kissed them, and ended up getting a bit of experience.

Your first kiss was a soft, shy thing. You’d revealed your feelings for him and were afraid he was going to reject you. He lifted your chin with his thumb and kissed you most delicately. It was a kiss full of hope and promises of what was to come, and you were dazzled ever since.

Now, you can’t get enough of his kisses, and when you’re feeling particularly needy, you spend hours kissing them, while watching a movie or just lazing about.

L = Love Confession

How would they confess to their s/o?

He told you he liked you back when you did it, right after kissing you.

But his love confession?

Oh, that’s a story for the ages.

He’d returned from a particularly bad patrol at night, was bruised battered and blue, and thought something in his body had broken. In the middle of the fight, he got scared. What if he couldn’t make it home to you? What if you were waiting up for him and he never made it? What if something happened to him and all you heard next were the news of his death?

He rushed up the elevator and to your shared bedroom, where you were still in bed, reading a book. You often did that; wait up for him. On one hand, he didn’t want you to give up your sleep for him. On the other, he was glad to have someone waiting for him when he got home.

Seeing you there was enough to break him. He limped next to you and fell on the bed, his whole body burning with unbearable pain. You took him in, suit, cowl, cape, all of him.

“Bruce?” Your breath hitched and you touched his head softly.

“I love you.” It had been the only thing in his mind during the ride home. He loved you. Loved everything about you. The way you clung to him after waking up, the way you washed his hair in the shower, the way you sang along to the radio while cooking. He needed you to know just how much he loved you.

You widened your eyes, starstruck. Here he was, Bruce Wayne, your boyfriend, bloodied and bruised, holding onto you for dear life, saying he loved you.

“I love you too, Bruce,” you whispered softly. You had known it for a while. You loved this mess of a man far too much to keep it hidden. You’d always dreamt of a big confession. Flowers and a sunny day with clear skies. Maybe some birds. But this? This was perfect.

Bruce smiled into your lap. He loved you. He was going to show it to you every day.

M = Marriage

Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

At first, he wasn’t very into the idea.

He’d tried so hard to keep his playboy persona, it was hard to accept the idea of marriage.

If you want to, he’ll do it. Absolutely, he will. Would plan the perfect evening, take you out to your favourite place (no matter what that might be), then would take you for a stroll around your favourite places in Gotham. He wanted it to be perfect, and while it might be a little bit cliché, Bruce is classy. He will make this the most wonderful and magical evening of your life, dropping down to one knee in the Gardens of the Manor, surrounded by all the greenery and the pretty flowers.

The wedding would be small and intimate. It was expected that Bruce Wayne invited hundreds, millions of people to watch him tie the knot, but for once in his life, he forewent all of that stupid rich boy persona shit he’d had to create. No one other than the people closest to him were allowed to participate in what would be one of the happiest days of his life.

And yes, he would shed a tear watching you walk down the aisle. Alfred would too, happy to see the child he raised as his own finally settle down.

If you don’t want to get married, then that’s okay. He won’t pressure you and is content to simply being with you for the rest of your lives, no papers included. After all, you’re all that matters.

N = Nicknames

What do they call their s/o?

He’s classy.

Let’s not forget this is Bruce “I was raised by proper gentleman Alfred Pennyworth” Wayne. He keeps it simple and classy.

“Sweetheart, could you come here for a second?”

“Darling, you’re looking rather beautiful tonight. All of this for me?”

“My dear, I don’t think Alfred will die from just a cold. There’s no need to take him to the hospital.”

“Honey, where is my super suit have you seen my brown jacket?”

“You know I’m always here for you. Don’t you, my love?”

There’s something timeless about these, and Bruce loves using them with you. (Also, just imagine Christian Bale saying these I…. I’m deceased….)

Aside from that, he also calls you Bunny quite often. After all, you were dating famous womaniser and playboy Bruce Wayne. And, well, this playboy needed a Bunny, didn’t he?

Although the origin of the name might not be the most… elegant, you still find it sweet whenever he calls you by this nickname.

“I told you, Bunny, I’m working late today, but I took tomorrow off. That alright with you?”

“Which one of those did you like, Bunny? I’ll buy it for you. No – no arguing. Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”

Makes you swoon every time.

O = On Cloud Nine

What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Everyone knows Bruce is in love just by the way he looks at you. If his nearly heart shaped eyes aren’t enough, then maybe the way he holds you and talks to you will do the trick. It’s obvious you’ve got him wrapped around your finger (and he has you around his, of course).

He’s more himself when he’s around you. More playful, more cheerful. There’s no need to pretend he is someone he isn’t, so he can be his true self. He can laugh (although a rare sight, it does happen) and crack a few jokes and tickle you until you’re crying from laughing and begging him to stop.

As said before, although he might not be very good with words, he shows his love through actions. But that’s not to say he doesn’t outright tell you he loves you. He’s very eloquent and often makes you swoon with his words alone. The thing is, this man has a billion-dollar education, he’s studied at the best academies, learned with the best professors, and yet he can’t find the proper words to convey how he feels about you. Unbelievable, isn’t it?

P = PDA

Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Bruce is a private man, and he likes to keep his life and romance the same.

But that’s not to say he won’t show you off and brag about you in public. Most of the times he’ll keep to himself, content with having a hand or an arm around you somehow. You’re next to him, you’re his, everyone knows it. Other times, he likes to show you off, buy you the prettiest of dresses and brag about the wonderful girlfriend he has. You’re so beautiful, how can he not show you off?

That’s not to say you’re some accessory to be worn on his arm though – no. Never. He’s just so proud of you, that he wants the world to know that he’s taken, and by the loveliest of people: you.

He also likes the quick rush of sneaking in kisses here and there. At parties, galas, events, whatever. He likes kissing you when no one’s watching, making you blush when no one is paying attention – it’s like your little secret, and he loves it.

Q = Quirk

Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

This man is Batman.

He has the stamina of a god.

Let’s just say it can be very, very beneficial in your relationship. Especially when he’s been gone for long and you’ve both missed each other like crazy. You are far too familiar with the phrase “Just one more for me darling, will you? I know you can do it. You’re doing so well.” And many others of the sort.

If, however, you’re not into that sort of thing (if you are ace, don’t experience sexual attraction, or simply aren’t that much into sex), then that’s where his status comes in handy. Come on, this is Bruce Wayne! Do you know how many times you were able to get your free fries for free, simply because of who he was? How many times people have told you your favourite ice cream was “out of stock” but were quick to reconsider this once he walked up to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry miss, seems like we don’t have your number anymore.”

“Darling, did you find what you were looking for?”

“O – oh! I meant – we don’t have it here – my colleague will pick it up from the storage as soon as possible.”

Or,

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we can find a table for you.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go somewhere else. Won’t we, beautiful?”

“Mr. Wayne! Oh! What a surprise! I’m sure I can squeeze you in, yes, yes, please do come in!”

R = Romance

How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He can be creative when he tries to, yeah. And very romantic. Alfred has taught him a lot, of course, and he also knows you like the back of his hand, so he often just knows what to do. If you like flowers, he’ll have a new bouquet delivered every Monday, ensuring you start the week on a good note. If you’re more into sweets, he’ll bring macaroons every so often, to make sure your days are sweet.

He does little gestures here and there that remind you why you fell for this man. He’s very attentive, and if needed, will go all out. Fancy restaurant, dressed to impress, the whole nine yards. Not afraid to pull all the corny movie stuff, like dancing with you under the stars, or having a romantic picnic. For you, he’ll do just about anything.

S = Security

How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

He’s very protective of you and will always make sure you’re safe. Doesn’t want you to get all tangled up with any of his Batman shenanigans, so will leave you in the dark when it comes to the nitty gritty details. He’s given you a little bottle of pepper spray and a small taser (a special taser of his own concoction) to keep yourself protected in the streets of Gotham, as well as taught you a few self-defence moves. If he’s not with you, he wants you to be able to take care of yourself.

But when he’s with you, you can absolutely bet he will be doing whatever he can to keep you safe and sound. He’s willing to fight off people, and has, in the past. Once, a petty thief threatened to stab you. Bruce beat him until he was unconscious. You didn’t like the sight of it and told him never to do something like that in front of you ever again. He complied, but was quick to tell you, “I won’t hold back if someone ever tries to hurt you”.

T = Try

How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

He tries. He tries so hard. We’ve already discussed how he often has to miss dates, dinners, important days because of either his job or Batman, so whenever he can, he will make up for it. Long days at the office? He’ll bring you flowers. Missed date? How about a weekend together, hidden away in some cozy cottage?

And he’ll always try his best to remind you just how much he loves you, just how important you are to him. He doesn’t want you thinking you’re not pretty enough, not classy enough, not whatever enough, because to him, you are, and every day he tries his hardest to remind you of that.

He is trying. Please cut this man some slack.

U = Understanding

How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He knows you like the back of his hand, and although he might not be empathetic to anyone else, he is towards you. He’s learned to sense when something is wrong and is quick to try and make you feel better if that is the case.

He’s very understanding as well – never belittles you for your choices or decisions, will always let you explain yourself and take you and your reasonings seriously. He loves you and wants you to feel safe. Even if you’re asking him what would be considered a stupid question, or if you make a mistake, he will never blame you for it. Hell, he knows he makes far too many mistakes, so he would never give you a hard time.

V - Value

How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

He values your relationship very much.

He knows he’s become a better man thanks to you and holds that in a high regard. Bruce hasn’t got much. Sure, he’s got his family’s fortune, a huge company, he dresses up as a bat and fights criminals, but still, he doesn’t have much. He doesn’t consider his true self to be Bruce Wayne, and no one knows him under his mask. It can get nerve-wracking sometimes, but he has you to keep him grounded.

There’s a reason he likes to keep you safe, after all. He won’t lose you.

You’re everything to him.

W = Whole

Would they feel incomplete without you?

As mentioned before, he would. He absolutely would. When you refuse to stay at the Manor because you two have had an argument, he is in shambles. He’ll mope around and play dead for a few seconds when Alfred tells him dinner is ready. He’s a big baby.

When you’re not at the Manor (maybe you’re at work, or went out with his friends), Bruce acts like he’s lost all purpose in life. He’ll ask Alfred if you called every five minutes, send you pictures that he found funny (Bruce Wayne does not understand memes), all to get you to talk to him.

He cannot function without you. Once again, you’re everything to him, and he just functions better when you’re around him, because you bring out the best in him.

X = Xtra

A random headcanon for them.

He often jokes about wanting to run you and Alfred over with the Tumbler (the first time he said this was because you’d called it “the Batmobile”. He hated that name.), but secretly loves the duo you’ve become. His witty humour and your quick quips make for a very funny combination, and he often finds himself thinking if other people are usually this funny, or if it’s just the two of you.

And let’s not forget, Alfred is his family. He is the closest thing Bruce has to a father and loves and cares for him deeply. So, to know the love of his life gets along so well with his father figure makes him smile. You two are quite literally the most important people to him. So he can joke all he wants about how “he’s going to throw you two in Arkham just so he won’t listen to your dreadful jokes anymore”, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Y = Yearning

How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He will try to keep a clear head, but ultimately can’t deny that he misses you like crazy. Will want to hear your voice, just to make sure everything is alright. He’ll call and check in on you and ask you how your day went. He doesn’t need to talk – all he wants is for you to keep talking. He loves the sound of your voice.

He has, well…. Relieved himself a few times in your absence. What can he say? He misses you. Misses the feel of your skin against him, of your laughter ringing in his ears, of your presence. He’s only human, after all.

Alfred makes fun of him all the time, which is an hilarious thing to witness.

Z = Zeal

Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’s willing to go the distance.

He will do just about anything for you.

Except for killing.

I am a firm believer in the fact that he couldn’t be able to kill someone because of you. If you’d been hurt, he would find prison and a lifetime of solitude a much more fitting destiny.

If someone dared to hurt you, however tempted he might be, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Simply because he knows you wouldn’t want him to be that kind of person. He knows you wouldn’t want him to become like the people he fights against.

But he would do anything else if it meant putting a smile on your face. He will buy every hotel, every yacht, every store, every book, etc. He would fight anyone, endure every storm, climb every mountain, swim across every ocean if it meant you’d be safe and sound. Nothing is too expensive, nothing is too hard, nothing is too dangerous.

Because, as we have stated before,

Bruce Wayne loves you.

A/N: That's it! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I wish everyone amazing holidays! Please stay safe, drink water, and have an amazing day ahead! <3

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