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foolforharrry · 1 year

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Aches

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: April comes home to find Harry asleep and not feeling the greatest.

Sickrry

To be fully honest this is like 90% fluff

I really hope you like it. And if you do. If you wanna check out more of my writings, my masterlist is here

No matter how much shit I talk about living in Los Angeles, the one thing that I’m never going to even entertain badmouthing is the ocean.

Even though my favourite colour is green, there isn’t much that beats being able to sit outside with a glass of wine as company to admire the masses of blue that stretch over the horizon.

My adoration for the view had been a fairly big selling point in Harry’s speech when he listed all the reasons why my moving in with him would be a no-brainer.

The speech had honestly been completely unnecessary. I would have said yes to moving into a hole in the ground right next to an airport if that mean living with him.

Lucky for me, I get to live with the love of my life and a view of the sea that sucks the air out of my lungs.

Taking a deep breath, I tear my eyes away from the water. The mesmerizing reflection of the afternoon sun riding the higher points of the waves had me in a spell the same way it always does.

After a rather stressful day, I somehow always end up wandering around the house instead of through the front door when I get home, needing some of that calming blue before I do anything else.

Today had been one of those days. Job interviews will do that do you.

Before Harry had gone to the studio, he had sat me down to have a ‘serious conversation’ with him. He needed to make sure I knew that he was expecting a full report on how the interview goes.

A full report is what I’m prepared to give him as I finally step into our shared home, giddy with pride. Harry had called me to tell me that he would be there when I got home while I was getting a well-needed manicure to destress after the interview.

Home he is.

The first thing I notice when I get into the living room is that the TV is on. An episode of friends filling the silence.

Second thing is that the back of a head of curls is rested on the back of the couch, face out of view.

“Hi, love. How was your day?”, I ask as I put my purse down by the bottom of the staircase before padding across the light wooden floors.

Realisation dawns on me when Harry doesn’t even lift his head at the sound of my voice, but it stays in the exact same position. He’s asleep.

His body lays horizontally across the comfy, grey furniture, his upper back and head propped up with the edge of the sofa and an arrangement of colourful throw pillows. His laptop is open in his lap, but the screen is black, one of his hands splayed over the keyboard and the other one draped across his stomach.

His eyes are closed and his pillowy, pink lips are barely parted. Mocha brown, curly strands of hair fall across his forehead so delicately.

Trying to be as careful as possible so I don’t wake him from his slumber, I reach for the TV remote on the coffee table to shut it off, silence replacing the noise.

Just as I start to retrace my steps back to the stairs to let him sleep in peace, a groggy, “Hi.”, has me stopping in my tracks completely and twisting my head.

Great job, April.

“Am I still dreaming? Or is an angel standing in my living room?”

My eyes widen in surprise momentarily before I burst out laughing. “That’s horrible, H.”, I tell him through tears of laughter, hand over my heart to calm my breathing down again.

“Meanie.” Even though Harry offers me a sad pout at the insult to his horrible attempt at a pickup line, he’s still got that bright glint in his eyes I love so much.

Setting his laptop on the coffee table next to the remote, Harry throws his legs off the sofa and pats the space on his left as a silent request for me to sit down next to him. That’s something I do happily, giving Harry a peck on the lips as I make myself comfortable.

Tucking my legs up on the sofa, I lean into Harry, basking in the feeling of being close to him again. The familiar scent of him has a warm and fuzzy feeling wrapping around my heart as he curves his arm around my back. His fingertips brush comfortingly up and down my side, allowing me to relax further into him.

I take his free hand between mine, absentmindedly playing with his rings as we sit in comfortable silence. Hands in his jean-clad lap. My head rested on his shoulder, the side of his face against the top of my head.

He’s probably got a nose full of hair by now.

“How did it go today?”, Harry asks, his voice courser than normal. “Did she have common sense and realise what a genius my fiancé is?”

A small smile decorates my face when I take my attention away from the hole that’s ripped through the course material of his dark jeans, exposing the tanned skin of his knees and a small part of his thigh.

“Yeah. She’s gonna call me back in to discuss some further details next week.”, I tell him bashfully.

There’s a beat of silence. And then before I even realise what’s happened Harry’s manoeuvred me so I’m fully on my back. A knee planted firmly on either side of my body as Harry peppers my face with kisses, mumbling praises in between them.

His silly, playful mood is infectious, and I can’t help the laughter that falls from my lips as he reaffirms every kind word with a kiss.

After peppering another round of adorable kisses on my flushed skin, I return one to each of his soft cheeks. “Thank you, pretty boy.”

Harry shakes his head, “No need for that. You know I’m always proud of you, right?” His words have a cheesy smile crinkling the corners of my eyes. “And I you”, I return with a tap on his nose. He matches my expression, stars in his eyes as he kisses the tip of my finger.

“Now go get changed before you start complaining about your jeans being uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, I lie through my teeth as Harry removes his body from mine completely. He hums, seeing right through my lie, “Whatever you say.”

Striding away from him and the sofa and up the stairs, I refuse to acknowledge the shit-eating grin I know that Harry is probably sporting right now from being right. For whatever reason, he’s comfortable lounging around in jeans. How the man does it, I genuinely have no idea. I however am the kind of person who can’t get them off quickly enough.

He knows me too well

Once I’m rid of the uncomfortable jeans, I slide a pair of grey sweats up my legs before trading the top I’ve worn all day for one of Harry’s graphic tees.

“So. I was thinking we could watch a movie while we eat?”, is what I hear when I descend the stairs again. Much more comfortable than I was two minutes ago.

My heart swells in my chest as I spot Harry in the kitchen, looking at me expectantly with a plate in his hand and the sound of the microwave telling me what he’s up to. “Are we doing Me Before You or I Feel Pretty?”

Harry takes a moment to ponder over our two options before he shares his decision. “Me Before You.”

Nodding in approval, I take a seat at the kitchen island, resting my chin on my hands folded on the countertop. “How did it go at the studio today? Did you guys figure out that song you told me about the other day?”

“It actually went really well. I think we’re set on pretty much everything. All that was left really when I left was recording the guitar solo. Mitch and Tyler were about to get started on it when i went home. It’s gonna be good.” The pride is obvious in his smile as he switches out the plates in the microwave, crossing his arms above his chest and leaning against the fridge.

I hum approvingly. “You land on a title yet?”

Having a habit of keeping me on my toes and never spilling anything about his new projects, I’m taken by surprise when Harry smirks at me and gives me the answer I was looking for, “She.”

From what he has told me about She, and now the title, I’m fairly certain that this might end up being the death of me. Much like everything else the man does.

“I can’t wait to hear it.”, I tell him seriously. Harry’s cheeks gain a pinker shade, a sheepish smile as he thanks me.

Tutting and shuffling over to him, I tilt my head back to keep eye contact with him to make sure he knows I’m serious. “You are freaking amazing, H. You inspire me every day by just being yourself. I know you’ve been a little bit anxious about experimenting more with your sound and everything. And I am so fucking proud of you for not letting your fears dim your light.”

Seeming at a loss for words, eyes glossy with emotion, Harry wordlessly wraps me up in his tight embrace, burying his face in my neck. I hug him back just as tightly. He doesn't need to say anything and neither do I.

It’s the beep signalling that the food is finished heating that makes us break apart, a soft kiss exchanged before we take one plate of leftover lasagnes each and make ourselves comfortable on the sofa again.

Harry is in the chaise, legs stretched out while I sit cross-legged next to him. We balance our food in our laps, he uses my thigh and knee as a second armrest.

Pressing play on the movie, we make quick work of our meal. I hadn’t even realised just how hungry I was until the first piece of lasagne touches my tongue.

It’s fucking delicious is what it is.

Once we’re done with our dinner, Harry tugs me towards him, letting me cuddle into him.

It’s not really a secret that movie night is a favourite for both Harry and me. We have a rather long list of movies we want to watch, even though more often than not, we circle back to our favourites.

Whenever we’re watching one of our usuals, Harry can never seem to keep from reciting the lines along with the characters with the same emotion and conviction the actor playing has.

No matter what’s on the TV, he’s always needing to have some part of his body touch mine. Whether it’s just a simple hand on a thigh or tangled together the way my hair gets if I don’t brush it out the second I get out of the shower.

There is no need to even have a conversation about what his love language is. Touch.

So who am I to deny him?

I’m shaken out of my thoughts when I feel Harry remove his cheek from the top of my head, tapping my hip to get my attention.

“I’ve gotta get up for a minute, love.”, he explains when he’s got it. I nod, frowning when I notice how pale he looks. Maybe it’s just the reflection from the television that’s making his complexion sickly. “Sure. You feeling ok, Dimples?”

“I’m good. Don’t worry.” He kisses the space between my eyebrow I know is creased right now before he makes a move to get up. But it doesn’t do much to ease the concern as I take over the spot Harry just left.

He shuffles his feet to the drawer next to the sink where we keep our medicine. Observing as he places not just one but two pills from the Advil bottle on his tongue before chugging it down with water. He rubs the side of his temple as he puts the medicine back in its rightful place.

When it comes to Advil, harry barely ever takes two at a time, hating the drowsiness that comes from the pain reliever enough with just one. So the fact that he chooses to swallow two and has kept rubbing his temple, tells me that he’s got a headache worse than he can deal with on his own.

Not that he would admit to it voluntarily.

Opening my arms as an invitation, Harry lays down on his side, putting his head in my lap. The light from the TV highlights the closest points of his face, long eyelashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks as he lets his eyes fall shut.

Just as I redirect my attention back to the movie I had nearly forgotten was playing, Harry nudges the top of my thigh with his nose, “Play with my hair, please.” His eyes are still closed as he lays completely still, arms tucked into his chest.

And so I do. But not before taking the blanket that was folded across the arm of the sofa and draping it over his body. As well as I can, seeing that I can’t do much more than throw the end.

The satisfied hum Harry lets out once I run my freshly manicured fingers through his curls has me suppressing a giggle.

I bet all that I own that having his hair played with is very high on the list of his favourite things from the way he always seems to turn to putty when I do just that.

Before I know it the end credits are rolling along with the tears. My hands are still absentmindedly making little braids only to undo them in his growing hair.

His breathing is deep and even, his body completely relaxed and his nose is buried in the fabric of my sweats as if my lap was a pillow. I don’t even want to try to wake him up. The thought had crossed my mind when I’d first noticed him starting to fall asleep. Just shut the TV off and get his ass in bed. But I decided to just let him doze off completely since it was obvious that he needs it.

Knowing Harry, if he sleeps on the sofa through the night, he’ll be bothered by his neck the whole day.

I take a minute to admire him in awe. He looks so peaceful like this. Like there isn’t a thing in the world that could ever interrupt him and his peace.

Apart from me apparently.

Being as careful as I possibly can, I slide myself further away from him while lowering his head to the cushion, freeing myself so I can get up. After shutting off the TV, the living room now nearly pitch black from the lack of light, I rid Harry of the blanket and fold back over the sofa arm.

“Darling, you gotta wake up.” I caress his cheek tenderly, watching as his eyelids slowly but surely flutter open. “There he is.”

“I wanna sleep.” His pout thankfully melts into a small smile when I kiss his nose.

Before he actually does let himself fall asleep, I take his hand in mine as I get off my knees, a reluctant Harry actually sitting up in the process. His fingers are back to soothing his table and it has an instant feeling of guilt settling in the pit of my stomach.

Pulling him the rest of the way up, I don’t even question it when Harry leans most of his weight on me, arms looping around my waist and his face settling in the crook of my neck.

“Would it make you feel better if I pamper your face how you like?”, I offer. He hums and nods but makes no move to take a step in any direction.

So I remove his arms for him, slinging the closest one around my shoulders as I wrap my own around his waist so he can keep using me as his own personal crutch. Which he does all the way up the stairs, down the hallway, through our bedroom and into our bathroom where he lets go and seats himself on top of the closed toilet seat.

Thankfully the lights were already dimmed, and it doesn’t look like he’s too bothered by them either.

As I’m setting up the products I know are his favourites, I glance over at him every few seconds. He looks like he could sleep for a week and still not be fully rested.

Dark circles and heavy under eyebags are more visible from how dull and pale his skin is. It’s lacking that glow and shine of life that’s always adorned his features as if he was an angel sent from heaven.

I wash my hands before getting his hair out of his face with the use of his fluffy, baby-blue headband.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s bothering you?”, I ask him as I start to cleanse his dampened skin, taking my time to get all that funk out of his pores, careful to keep the product out of his closed eyes. The way he has his head slightly tilted back makes it a lot easier.

“Head hurts.”

It actually feels like someone just took a tug at my heart. And not in a good way. “I’m so sorry, my love.”, I murmur, kissing the top of his head.

Keeping his hands comfortably at my hips as I stand between his legs, Harry just shrugs his shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal. “S’fine.”

He’s full of shit and we both know it.

But knowing him I don’t try to argue and just continue with the task at hand in silence. With the exception of the hums of appreciation every now and then.

Doing his skincare routine for him isn’t going to magically take away his troubles. But if it can put a little bit of pleasure and comfort into the mix, I would happily stand and pamper him for hours on end.

Once he’s all done, I take his headband off for him and with a giggle, I give him the kiss he’s silently asking for by puckering his lips.

Harry watches me with tired eyes and his toothbrush slowly cleaning his teeth as I make quick work of my own nighttime routine.

Even though it’s way earlier than we normally even think about going to sleep, Harry is obviously about ready to throw in the towel where he sits judging by how slowly he’s brushing his teeth. The events and stress of the day have tired me out as well, to be honest.

His mumbled, “I love you”, through a mouthful of toothpaste had me giggling as I returned the sentiment.

Harry tries to help me put everything in its rightful place again, pouting when I tell him to sit his pretty little sick ass right back down again and let me take care of it. If he’d been his usual, not sick, self, he never would’ve listened.

“C’mon, Dimples. Time for bed.” “Yes, ma’am.”

I shake my head at the poor attempt at a smirk the man makes that quickly morphs into a grimace from his headache as I help him back onto his feet.

As if his body knew how close he was to finally be able to lie down and sleep again, the second his eyes lands on his final destination for today, he releases a yawn that makes his eyes all but disappear.

He plops down on top of the duvet, getting to work on shedding off his pink mickey mouse sweater as I slide my sweatpants off my legs and drop all the decorative pillows on the floor with them. Since neither of us bothered with turning on the light when we entered the room, there’s no need to make the short walk to the switch by the door.

“Do you need anything else?”, I ask as I fold back the duvet. I jump in surprise when I feel something hard meet my back the second I stand up only to realise that it’s just Harry when he hugs me to his chest and kisses the top of my head.

Swaying us slowly from side to side, he murmurs against my hair, “All I need is you.”

The butterflies that are going crazy from just how much I love this man in my stomach, stay there.

They keep buzzing around long after the warmth of the duvet envelops our bodies. The kiss goodnight Harry laid on my lips didn’t make them go away. They only increase when Harry nestles his face into my chest with his arm slung across my stomach. As if those little creatures could feel just how close he was.

I’m pretty sure they kept floating around long after I drifted off to sleep.

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iloveaustinbutlerlol · 2 years

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The Unmistake - Part Four

(I am giving up with the spacing, it is just being weird. The chapters from here on out should be just as long.)

We had sat down at a table and Austin was looking at me intently arms crossed across his chest as he leant back. “I’ve got to ask,” he said, “how is all this going to work?” I took a deep breath. “I don’t know Austin.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I want to be involved.” He nodded as he said it, the truth in his words shining through. “But I don’t even live in this country. I’m only here for this project. We don’t even know each other; I don’t know how to make this work. It has all just happened so quickly.” I felt everything he was saying, I’d thought about it all. “Well, we can get to know each other?” I offered. He uncrossed his arms. “It’s a good idea. I’ll start,” he said. “My name is Austin Butler, I am 29, and I’m from California.” I giggled; this was very weird. “Okay,” I began, “My name is Lottie Green, I am 26, and I’m from London.”

Over the course of lunch, we literally interviewed each other which was strange but helpful. He told me more about the film he was working on and how he was playing Elvis Presley. I told him about my slightly crazed Catholic family and the mental family dog. Fair to say Austin’s part of our faux interview must have been much more interesting to me than mine was to him. But he listened politely the whole time looking interested and even paid for lunch. We kept it light-hearted and while I got to know him slightly better, our predicament was still the same: strangers with a baby on the way. He apologized that he was unable to take me home as ‘Baz’ was already repeatedly messaging him saying he was late 20 minutes ago and that if he didn’t show up asap, he was to be ‘fired’. I thought it was probably a joke, but Austin looked a bit put out, pouting quite cutely, so we said our goodbyes and he left me with a promise to text me tonight.

I couldn’t believe how calm I’d been so far considering the looming obstacle of telling my slightly crazed Catholic family that I was pregnant. Not only pregnant, but pregnant with a child of a man whom I was not married to, nor even in a relationship with. For the rest of the day, I wallowed around my flat eating shit, and watching Brooklyn 99. I considered whether this situation was enough to be disowned, but I reassured myself I could play it off as a gift from God, as I had always been told I was infertile. If that didn’t work, I suppose I could lie and say Austin was actually my boyfriend, but he had just been in America before now. I sat on the sofa double screening as I looked at my phone and the TV simultaneously. Then the doorbell went off.

I trudged to the door, thinking who the fuck is coming by my house at 11pm, and looked through the peephole to see if I was about to get murdered. Austin was standing there? How did he know where I lived? I opened the door to a guilty looking Austin, scratching his ear. “Hi Lottie.” “Hi, Austin?” “May I come in?” “Oh yeah sure, I was just a bit freaked out how you knew where I lived.” “It was on the envelope of the letter.” “Right,” “I just got off work,” Jeez just now? “And I was going to text you, but I thought this conversation ought to be done in person.” He was freaking me out, but I decided to cast it to the back of my mind and let him talk. “Okay.” I said and led him into my flat, mentally groaning at the state of it. “Want a drink? Tea, coffee, anything?” “A coffee would be great thanks.” Fiddling with his rings, sitting on the edge of my sofa, he looked very young. I went over to my small kitchen to make his drink. When I returned, he thanked me as I gave it to him. “So,” he started. “So.” I responded. “I wanted to start off by saying sorry.” He said, now I was even more confused. “For getting us into this mess,” he continued, “it was my shitty condom.” “Austin, gosh don’t be silly, it takes two, and anyways did you not read my big, long letter about how this is somewhat of a miracle to me.” “I did, I did but still I am sorry. This situation is not…” “Ideal.” I finished. “I get it we are still practically strangers and, in a few months, we’re going to have a child together.” He nodded then paused, before continuing. “Well, we are only strangers because of how you left in the morning.” What? Seeing my furrowed brow, he explained. “I never intended us to be. When I met you, I didn’t have the intentions of this just being a one-night stand.” Oh. That took me by surprise. His honesty silenced me.

Austin then continued, “After the next scan I leave for Graceland for a week or so.” “Graceland?” “Elvis’s house is there in Memphis, Tennessee. Baz thinks it would be helpful to my performance to go and see the real deal.” I nodded. “I am trying to fix a flight so I can be back for the scan after next but I can’t be sure. This is my pre-warning that I might not be there.” While this was upsetting to hear, I was grateful he was giving me fair warning. He was trying, willing to even come round my house when he must be exhausted from work. The more I was around him the more I could see he was a good guy. “Who have you told?” he asked. I picked some fluff off the sofa cushion before answering, “No one.” “Me either.” he replied quietly, we shared a small smile. “I’m going to tell people when I get back.” he said. “Sounds good,” I responded. He finished the last of his coffee and then stood up. “I better be going, sorry for coming round so late.” “It’s fine Austin, I appreciate it.” We walked to the front door. He turned the handle. “I’ll see you Wednesday, Lottie. Call me if you need me.” He left with a smile and the flat got colder.

Part 6

Austin was still in Graceland. Recently he had been messaging me frequently, checking up on me, sending me various articles on pregnancy, asking what my symptoms were. Just being there for me in general. I am led to believe this started after the last scan he was at because he had heard all the doctor had said about me ending my first trimester. It was all feeling a lot more real. I was just looking forward to not having morning sickness every day. The scan after, that Austin had missed, was weird. I’d sent him the scan picture, but the examination room had felt lonely. I had silently cursed myself for thinking that. I’d been around the guy three times total. How could I miss him. As Christmas and Austin’s return approached, I was thinking more and more about telling my parents. If I told them at Christmas, would they be extra happy or extra mad? A question that was unanswerable. Austin not being at the scan had made me realise how lonely I really was in all of this, I’d told no one except him so there was no one else to call to come with me.

Since I’d found out, I’d also being avoiding my family, but that was pretty impossible to do at Christmas. Don’t get me wrong my parents were great people, but they had their views that a baby should have married parents. The hormones in me made me want to cry at thinking that, and I quickly started panicking. By the time I’d dialed his number, I was sobbing.

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?” his voice was panicked “Why are you crying? Lottie what’s wrong? Is something wrong with the baby?” “Austin,” I gasped “How am I going to tell them! What if they never speak to me again. What if they’ll never see me again, never want to see the baby. It’s Christmas in three days! How have I left this til now. I’m all alone. What if they kick me out of the family, cut me out of photos. What if…” Austin, the voice of reason, then stepped in. “Lottie listen, while your parents may not throw a party over the situation within which you’re having this baby, I highly doubt they’re going to never want to see you again.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. His mellow voice soothing. “I don’t know how my dad will react either, we’re both in the same boat here.” “What about your mum?” I asked, my voice ragged from the crying. Austin inhaled slowly and shakily. “My mum passed away six years ago.” His defeated voice set me off again, tears streaming. Why was I crying? I should have been comforting him. “Lottie it’s alright. I do know my mum would have been very happy though, she always wanted grandchildren.” “Austin I am so scared about all of this.” “Me too. We will be okay.” We. One word was all the comfort I needed. ‘We’ was a team, was a support system, was what I really needed right now. My heavy beathing softened. “I’m coming back to England.” He said “Austin but you’re supposed to be going home for Christmas.” “Well, I am needed elsewhere.” He stated simply. “Austin I can’t let you do that. You can’t not be home for Christmas.” I argued. “I can and I am. I’ll see you soon Lottie.” He hung up the phone.

I must have fallen asleep on the sofa that night to the mindless hum of ITV 2 because when I awoke it was to gentle raps on the door. The clock on the oven shone 05:12. “What the fuck?” I whispered. I approached the door, looked through the peephole and was met with piercing blue eyes. He couldn’t have actually? Austin knocked on the door again and whisper shouted “Lottie, it’s Austin Butler, the father of your unborn child.” I whipped open the door. Seriously? Austin fell forward a bit, his reaction delayed and tired. “What the hell are you doing here, you div!? I told you to stay in America.” I hissed. “Well, I was dreaming of a white Christmas…” he started almost drunkenly singing, “No snow in California!” He pushed past me into the flat. “It doesn’t snow here either Austin.” He shrugged. I was honestly too tired for this. “Not very festive in here.” He observed looking around my very decoration free living room and throwing himself and a large duffel bag on the sofa. I shut the front door, I couldn’t be bothered, he could sleep on the sofa, I had work tomorrow. “Not a lot of festive cheer around here.” I said coolly. I made my way to my bedroom. The large man in my living could be dealt with in the morning.

“Where are you going?” he called from the sofa. “I’ve come halfway across the world to see you and you don’t even care to ask why?” he teased “I am wounded.” He mockingly grabbed the dagger in his chest. I stopped and turned around. “Why have you Austin? You should be with your family.” He pouted. A pause. “Because I think we should move in together.”

Part Seven

I am surprised I didn’t shout out in shock. What was he going on about? “Okay, okay listen to me here,” he threw his hands up in surrender, “I hate to think you’re all alone in here. Breaks my heart a little bit if I’m honest.” He paused to check if I was listening. I was. Maybe I was just too tired to argue, and he was monopolizing the opportunity. “And also, you were going to have to have someone move in at some point to help with the baby. Why not just a bit earlier than expected? There is no way you can do it by yourself.” I clenched my fists; I didn’t like being told what I can and can’t do. “Finally, I’m all in Lottie. All in. I want to make this work and I know we can. I think you know that too.” I watched his face start to fall as I stood there reactionless. I walked towards him and enveloped him in a hug. He smelt warm and sleepy but squeezed me back just as tightly as I did him. “Thank you.” I whispered into his chest. A tear trailed from my eye.

How could I have been so lucky. This whole situation could be so much worse, but Austin had shown me in such a short space of time he was a kind, reliable, good man. Someone I could trust and who supported me. The relief was gushing, and I knew I was ready to tell my parents. Christmas Eve, I would do it. Austin sighed happily, released me, then curled up into the sofa. Even without me saying we both knew I had agreed with him. By the time I’d come back from my room with a blanket he was out. The idiot had flown across the world through the night just to propose something to me he didn’t even know I would agree to. I prayed then our baby would be just as brilliant as he was. I laid the blanket over him, and he hummed in his sleep. I went to my bedroom hoping that I would get at least another hour of sleep in before work.

I woke up exhausted, but I knew I couldn’t take anymore days off considering the suspicious amounts I had been taking off to go to pregnancy appointments and the fact it was literally Christmas Eve tomorrow. I would have to tell my boss after Christmas. Austin was still sprawled over my sofa asleep, so I quietly padded around the flat as I got ready for work. I left a note on the coffee table in front of him, hoping he would see it when he got up. ‘Make yourself at home; I’ll be back from work around six. There’s a spare key hidden in the flowers outside the door if you leave the house. See you soon. Lottie’

I tried to take my mind off of the man and I suppose my soon to be flat-mate while I was at work but it was pretty impossible. This was everyone’s last day of work before the Christmas bank holidays anyways and it was easy to tell no one in the office was really doing anything. Austin’s preposition from last night kept floating around my head. Where did he mean for us to live? At my house? It was only one bedroom, so that wouldn’t work. And Austin couldn’t just sleep on the sofa for the next six months. He was only staying at a hotel, even though it was fancy, so we couldn’t move in there. What was he doing about Christmas? And what about his life in America? Surely, he wasn’t going to stay here forever. My flat’s rent was astonishingly cheap for London and when he upped and left back for America, I knew I couldn’t handle the rent of anything different alone. These were all things that I should have asked him last night, but I was just too tired and confused to do so.

On the train home I made a mental list of everything I was going to ask him when I got back. As I walked through the door, Austin back’s faced to me in the kitchen. He quickly turned around to me and smiled. “What are you doing?” I asked pointing to the pot on the hob. “I’m just making dinner.” He said. Oh. That was nice. “It should be ready in like ten minutes.” “Okay.” I nodded gratefully. I never normally had a cooked meal after work, I was always too tired, especially since I’d been pregnant. I would just snack until I went to sleep. I got changed straight into my pajamas and went back out to the living room. You wouldn’t have known he had been here all day; he had left no mess.

Austin had brought two bowls of food over to the table and was sat waiting for me. It smelled like he had made curry. I took a mouthful and refrained for moaning. He looked to me with eyes asking if it was good and I nodded. He smiled then began eating himself. After a moment, I remembered my list from the train and began with, “So how is this gonna work? Where are we going to live?” He paused thinking. “We will have to get somewhere bigger, three bedrooms. One for you,” he pointed to me, “One for me,” he turned his finger to himself, “and one for baby.” He pointed then to my stomach. I ran a small hand over my stomach and let out a laugh. “Austin, I can’t ask you to move here just because of this.” “Lottie you never asked me to, I want to. And besides this project is keeping me here for the next year.” That did make me feel a little less guilty. “We’re going to make this work babe.” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand gently before retracting it. I felt myself flush a little at that. “I am telling my parents tomorrow.” I said quietly. “Do you want me to come with? Bit of moral support?” he tilted his head as he asked the question. Was it probably a bad idea, yes, but I needed all the support I could get if I was going to face my parents. I nodded gratefully. “I do also have a favour to ask.” He said meekly after a moment. I glanced up from my bowl to show I was listening. Austin was scratching the back of his neck. “Um, since my return was a bit spur of the moment kind of thing, and it’s Christmas, there’s no hotels with free rooms to take me.” He took a breath before finishing quickly. “Can I just stay here for the next week or so until we find a flat?” I huffed out a laugh. “Austin of course you can. You seem so nervous though, did you really think I was going to kick you out onto the streets?” Austin picked up his fork again. “Well you never know.” He teased.

After dinner Austin forced me to sit down and let him do the washing up, even though he had cooked the dinner. My back was killing me, so I was grateful to sit down, but I felt immensely guilty. I shuffled into the sofa then feeling bad Austin would have to sleep here for the next week. No, he could take my bed, I would sleep here. I heard him turn off the kitchen tap and come and join me on the sofa. “You’re making that face again.” “What face?” I asked. “The confused guilty one.” “Oh, I was just thinking how you should have the bed and I’ll sleep out here. You’re too tall to even lay down properly on this.” “Lottie, what kind of man would I be if I made a pregnant woman give up her bed for me.” Well when he put it like that. I thought for a moment more. “Just sleep with me then.” I stated. “We can just share. My bed is big enough.” “Okay.” He chuckled.

I went to bed earlier than I had in a long time that night. Normally my flat was so cold this time of year and I would bundle in many layers in bed. But with Austin there I didn’t need to. He shuffled slightly closer towards me. “Goodnight Lottie. Thanks for sharing your bed with me.” He closed his eyes and smiled. We went to sleep, warm and comfortable.

(Previous part: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/iloveaustinbutlerlol/694211341565755392?source=share)

(Next part: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/iloveaustinbutlerlol/694320145807572992?source=share)

#austinbutler #elvis movie #elvis 2022 #austin butler fanfiction #fanfiction

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nicolanoodles · 2 years

Text

For the prompt ‘the skirt is supposed to be this short’

Thank you @sabrinathe20somethingwitch for enabling me once again.

Shoutout to @sawneythelazy whose fic name ‘Green Wings’ I stole to use as the magazine name in this! If you haven’t read it, then WTF are doing wasting your time reading this garbage?! Go read it now, then read Brown Boots! Sheesh.

Anyway… smut ahead 🗑

Curtain Call

Levi helps Petra prepare for an important interview

Words: Warning, may contain words - 1817 of them to be precise.

Levi leant back in the cheap, padded tub chair. He had two options. Counting the ceiling tiles for the third time in a row or staring at the fluorescent light for a solid five minutes until it induced a migraine.

He decided to go for the hat trick.

He was about halfway through when the dull clink of the curtain rail being pulled across snapped his attention back to his girlfriend. Petra stood before him in what he would hazard a guess at being the fifteenth outfit she’d tried on in this capitalist hellhole.

“Ok so I really don’t think the colour is doing anything for me but what do you think of the style?”. She pulled awkwardly at the fabric, awaiting his judgement.

Levi looked at the somewhat conservative green dress and blazer combo and took a moment too long to answer.

“-it’s awful isn’t it?”

“-it’s not as shit-“ He stopped himself from finishing the sentence. It was going nowhere good.

Petra squared her shoulders, a determined expression now firmly set on her face, “Got it, next!”

He sighed as the curtain whooshed shut. The uncomfortable beige upholstery itched at his skin as he slumped back down into the armchair. He needed coffee - no, tea. At home. On their comfy ass sofa, with less shitty music in the background. He made a silent vow to shove ‘monotonous department store hits vol.2’ into whichever asshole had put it onto the shop’s tannoy and pressed repeat.

Sideways.

He repeated the mantra of the day. For Petra. For Petra. For Petra and her interview that she will undoubtedly nail but has convinced herself otherwise. He conjured up her face when she read the letter inviting her to attend the interview for her dream position - lifestyle columnist for her favourite magazine ‘Green Wings’. Her whole face had frozen in confused shock before bursting into the biggest smile he’d seen on her since taking her to that kitten cafe for her birthday a few months back. The squeal that had erupted from her had made his eardrums flinch. She’d literally jumped for fucking joy. A small smile crept onto his lips as he recalled the excited phone call to her parents, feet pacing round their apartment and hands gesticulating wildly telling them the good news. Levi couldn’t have been prouder.

And then the nerves had kicked in.

That same evening, Petra had morphed into a nervous wreck. As the adrenaline wore off she had convinced herself that, not only did she not stand a chance at getting the job, she was somehow unqualified, inexperienced and had obviously tricked her potential new employer that she was in any way suitable for a job that was clearly out of her depth. There were tears. There was hiccuping. There was hiding under the bed covers. And amongst all this there was Levi, utterly confused and quite frankly pissed off that she could think of herself in this ridiculous light. He’d read her work, heck her first class English degree that she’d worked her ass off for sat proudly on the living room shelf. Yet here he was trying to coax her out of the bathroom as she chased herself round in an anxious spiral. She made a damn good writer and, in his opinion, it was about time she was recognised for the dedication and talent she possessed.

Perfectionism had her in a choke hold. So Levi had rolled up his sleeves, peeled back the layers of the snot covered panic blanket and offered up a tentative band aid - retail therapy. Once the sharp edges of her agitation had sufficiently dulled, she agreed that maybe a smart new interview outfit might give her enough of a confidence boost to quell the bubbling nerves threatening to spill over. At the very least she’d look smoking leaving the interview room, regardless of the outcome. The next day they had bundled into the car and driven to the mall.

Many hours later and the enthusiasm of the day’s mission was wearing off fast. No matter how many outfits Petra tried on, her anxiety would creep in and smother her with doubt again. Too formal. Too boring. Too casual. Levi wished he could convince her that she looked stunning in anything and that even if she were wearing a potato sack, her future employer would take one look at the talent that shone out of her and hire her on the spot.

He massaged his temples trying to conjure the magic phrase that would make her worries disappear. Nothing. Unlike Petra, he was shit with words.

The curtain pulled back once again to reveal the newest attempt at bolstering his partner’s self esteem. He froze at the image in front of him.

If the last ensemble was conservative then this one made up for it. She wore the same blazer from the last outfit, but this time with the sleeves rolled up, slender arms leading down to her hands which were fidgeting with the material of the flattering orange skirt sat across her thighs. The very short orange skirt.

“So I know it’s a little different than the other outfits but I-“ she tailed off noticing Levi’s expression. Petra pulled at the hem again noting her boyfriend’s wide eyed silence.

“I didn’t know the skirt was supposed to be this short”

Levi nodded, mouth still hanging slightly agape as his eyes following the elongated line of her legs, up to her thighs, the hint of her creamy skin showing through the sheer black fabric. His gaze continued upwards taking in the fitted blazer, the way it framed her breasts like a goddamn photo nearly making him drool. The cream coloured blouse buttoned teasingly low, beckoning his eyes to her cleavage.

She turned back to the mirror, continuing to fuss over the outfit, “I mean, I guess it would be ok for the interview - the magazine has a great fashion segment…it might make the right impression”

Strong arms snaked round her waist as Levi slunk in behind her. A blush crept onto her cheeks as he lined up his toned torso flush against her back.

His voice gave her goosebumps as it rumbled in her ear, “I think you look gorgeous baby”.

The solid shape pressed against her ass appeared to twitch in agreement.

It was Petra’s turn to nod dumbly as the curtain was pulled back. He continued low in her ear, “What’s it gonna take to convince you how amazing you are huh?”. His hands ran down to her hips and she ground her ass instinctively against him earning a hiss.

He spun her round and pushed her up against the flimsy cubicle wall. It gave a discouraging rattle at the weight of both their bodies pressed against it. Hands roamed through her auburn hair and Petra sighed as Levi dove in for a deep kiss.

She broke away, breathless, “Maybe we shouldn’t -“ but her words were cut off as Levi sunk to his knees and ran his hands up her legs, resting on her ass to give it a squeeze. She looked down and had to suppress a whimper when she caught the devilish smirk on his face. His bangs framed his eyes, hooded with lust and Petra felt heat pool in the pit of her stomach.

His fingers teased the elastic of her tights, “Maybe I don’t give a shit”. She felt him start to slowly pull them down, “Maybe I want you to stop worrying and see how amazing you are”. With that he ghosted his finger over her panties, teasing her clit. Petra jerked and her eyes locked onto the image of her in the mirror, face already flushed and hair mussed from where Levi had run his fingers through.

Speaking of which…

Her expression changed as he began to rub slow circles round her bud. She braced herself against the changing room bench as he teased her entrance, his digit brushing the silken fabric until it became soaked. She visibly shuddered as he nudged her underwear aside and finally dipped it in, working her favourite spot, adding another as her wetness grew.

He continued, “I want you to stop bullshitting yourself”. Petra let out a short gasp, “I want you to see how fucking good you are at what you do”.

He paused his ministrations and silently mouthed ‘Not. A. Sound’. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him pull down her tights and panties, balling them up and tossing them over his shoulder before disappearing under the skirt.

One stroke of his tongue was all it took for her knees to buckle. His hands were quick to grab her ass, supporting her in place as he continued exploring her folds. Gliding his tongue one last time over her soaked core, he turned his attention to her over sensitive mound.

He hooked one leg over his shoulder and hummed in satisfaction at her barely suppressed moan as he went to work on her clit. Her grip had tightened in his hair and he let out a sharp exhale at the way she tugged at the inky bangs.

His fingers began working her again, tongue swirling expertly coaxing her closer and closer towards euphoria. He felt her walls tightening and ran his free up her slender waist, indulging in the softness of her skin.

“Can you do that for me baby?”

His hot breath against her core made stars explode behind her eyes. She knew he had to be rock hard by now but he continued focussing on giving her pleasure drawing her closer and closer towards release. She glanced once more at the image in the mirror; Levi half hidden under the miniskirt, herself completely flustered holding on for dear life with one leg slung over his shoulder. Finally she shuddered, her whole body diving off the edge into climax. Her back arched with the effort it took to silence the scream in her throat, heart thumping in her ears.

Levi surfaced, the smirk on his face glistening in the changing room light. She smiled back, giddy and breathless. He wiped his mouth, “So, think we have a winner?”. Petra could only nod in agreement as she came back down to earth.

Levi discretely reassumed his post on the shoddy tub chair and waited for Petra to emerge. When she did, blush still present on her cheeks, he pulled her onto his lap. “I mean it brat, promise me you’re gonna calm down over this whole interview shit?”

She bit her lip guiltily, “I guess I’ve been catastrophizing a bit huh?”. Petra buried her face into his neck, “Thank you sweetie”.

“Tch, don’t mention it”

He tenderly kissed the top of her head before lowering his voice an octave, “Now let’s pay for this shit and go home so I can rip it off you again”.

END

*psst happy birthday Marina and bey!*

#rivetra fic #rivetra #levi ackerman #petra ral

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

The Babysitter

Characters ( Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader )

Rating (T) Word Count ( 2.9k) Warnings ( None, bad flirting, writing while intoxicated)

“For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

It was another late night studying on the living room floor of the Mayfair-Richards household. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend a majority of your nights here during the week and sometimes the weekend if you were needed and you usually weren't. Not that you would've minded anyway, your weekends weren't busy—mostly spent either dead asleep or trying to get out of plans you didn't want to be a part of anyway to get more sleep.

But it wasn't everyday that you were able to work for a Senator either, so even if you were busy, you weren't going to tell Ally Mayfair-Richards that. Not that she was a mean boss or anything, she was the Senator for crying out loud. And...okay yes, maybe you idolized the woman a little though it may be because you're studying law but honestly who wouldn't idolize this woman? She went through so much shit getting to this point in her life and career.

And she was hot. She was really hot but you kept it in your pants, but your eyeballs? Different story. You were just grateful that she chose you to watch her son when she was away, especially after you knocked over your entire cup of tea in her living room on the very carpet you were sitting on, and you were just a hot mess.

You thought you blew the whole thing, but the moment she produced the NDA to you a few days later when she called you back for a 'second interview' which included Ozzy this time, you'd been ecstatic and nearly knocked over another fucking cup but Ally was faster than you that time.

The giant TV was playing in front of you across the room but it was just the news channel but the volume was pretty low because Oz was asleep upstairs and you weren't really watching it anyway, you had your airpods in listening to Beyoncé and trying to create a decent scenario for one of the ten theories your professor assigned. It was due the next day so you thought picking the easiest one would work in your favor but it was turning out to be your worst nightmare—and you'd regretted choosing sleep over this, kind of.

You'd been so engrossed in your work, and music, you didn't hear the front door open and shut somewhere behind you or hear Ally quietly talking on the phone, her high heels click clacking on her polished wood floors as she came into the living room. Ally paused slightly at the sight of you and her coffee table, your books and yellow pads scattered everywhere, your head bopping slightly to whatever you were listening to as you scribbled away.

Ally smiled softly, and continued on her way upstairs to check on Ozzy knowing that she was going to find him safe, clean and fast asleep with a full belly. You'd been his nanny for four months now and you were such a blessing for Ally, she'd been reluctant to hire and trust another person with her baby boy but her career was too demanding and Ozzy was only ten. He could stay home alone for a few hours maybe, but not days or even a week or two.

After everything, Ally did have cameras around her home on the outside and she had one directly over the stairs because it overlooked the foyer and parts of the living room from an angle. She didn't want too many camera's inside of her home in case they were hacked but she wanted something at least.

Ozzy's room was dark except for his nightlight by the door and Ally quietly made her way inside, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing his curls from his face. She was ever thankful that he finally stopped having those horrible nightmares, it meant that she wasn't wasting her money on therapy sessions.

When Ally came back downstairs, you were predictably in the exact same spot you were in and Ally finally did away with her coat, placing it over the spine of the sofa and she stepped out of her heels before coming around and plopping herself down, careful not to knock over your stack of books.

The sudden movement startled you out of your skin and you quickly pulled out your airpods and looked at your boss, “Hey! Sorry, how long have you been home?”

Ally smiled down at you tiredly, practically sinking into the sofa and you could feel her exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and you couldn't help but sympathize because damn, and you thought you were tired.

“I just got in, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, things got busier than I expected and then everything went into chaos.”

You smirked when she threw her hands up half heartedly with a roll of her eyes, “Would a glass of wine help?”

“No, but it would definitely be a start if you join me for a glass?” she raised an eyebrow, and as much as you wanted to say yes you've already procrastinated enough and you really didn't need alcohol in your system around her lest you say something you absolutely shouldn't.

“I would but I have to finish this and it's getting late. Do you mind waiting up until my Uber gets here?”

“It's really late, you should just stay the night, (Y/n).” Ally sat up then, waving away your comment, though now she was closer and hovering over you a bit, “I'll take you home tomorrow after breakfast, that sound fair?”

It wouldn't be the first overnight stay but it would definitely be the first time that she'd be home too and you just couldn't say no to that even though you probably should have insisted more that you go home, but you accepted her offer without further debate. You'd gone back to your assignment, minus the airpods this time, and Ally got up to go to the kitchen and you could hear her fixing herself a glass of wine.

Ally set a bottle of water next to you on a coaster before settling back in her spot and finding something to watch on TV, and of course you noticed that she was a hell of a lot closer than she was before.

Your pen had paused on the yellow paper and your eyes glanced over the same sentence three times before your mind processed that you could practically feel the heat from her legs next to your arm through her slacks, and if you leaned just an inch you'd be touching her. You fought the urge to look back over your shoulder, but instead you looked up from beneath your lashes and saw that she was browsing the movie channels at a snail's pace.

Behind you, Ally was sipping her wine in one hand and flipping channels with the remote in the other but her eyes were nowhere on the TV screen. But she noticed the moment your pen stopped moving and your shoulders tensed more than usual, she'd been watching you closely and curiously.

“You okay, honey?”

You turned around to answer her with what you hoped was a calm smile and wished that you hadn't, really. Ally was going to kill you sitting the way she was sitting, her energy screaming big dick and the top three buttons of her shirt were undone and her hair was a little messy. Either she was going to give you a heart attack or your libido would.

“Sweetheart?”

You blinked, coming back to reality so fast you would’ve gotten whiplash, “Uh, yeah...maybe I guess I’m just tired too.” Yeah right.

You chuckled nervously, embarrassed really, and licked your lips again and Ally tracked the movement with rapt attention not that you would've caught it because you were busy being mortified being caught staring like a creep.

“Are you sure? You look flushed, drink some water,” you smiled at Ally, ever the mom.

“I’m not—” not what? Thirsty? Yeah you were but not for some water.

“You’re not what?” Ally pressed, still holding you hostage with her eyes alone.

“Not thirsty for water.”

Ally raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching and you hate that you noticed, “Oh? Then what would you like to drink if it’s not wine or water?”

Good question. One you didn’t have a good answer to. Not trusting yourself to formulate words into an appropriate sentence, you just nodded and turned back around and grabbed the water she brought you. You were determined to ignore until you were finished with your work—for the sake of your sanity and dignity.

Fuck.

Still watching you, Ally laughed quietly into her wine glass and finally settled on a movie, keeping the volume low as she got comfortable. Deciding to let you off the hook for not answering her question. (This time.)

A few days later...

It was another late night for you but you weren't working for Ally tonight, so you went to the gym instead after studying. You were still wearing your tights and sports bra when you left, only throwing on a jacket because the night air and sweat weren't a great mix.

You didn't have anything at home to eat that wasn't expired or so frozen it came from the ice age...it all went in the trash so all you had left in your fridge was a case of water and cheese sticks. It wasn't surprising though, you spent a majority of your free time at Ally's home and you just ate lunch and dinner there usually. So you went straight to the grocery store after your workout with your trainer.

“Hey (Y/n)!” you looked up and internally groaned, rolled your eyes and threw a whole bitch fit.

You offered Sean a tight near sarcastic smile, “Sean. What is up.”

“Nothin',” he said, leaning against the counter he was standing behind with a cheesy smile, his eyes leering—and it made your skin crawl, “Just working...you?”

“Uh,” you were already over this conversation, “Same, anyway—”

“You still work for that crazy killer lesbian?”

You stopped, pivoting back around slowly to see if he was joking or not, of course it was hard to tell because he was looking at your ass, but the minute he turned around his eyes laser beamed to your chest. Specifically your pebbled nipples and the bars pierced in them. You moved the labels of your jacket to cover them fucking pig.

“Uh, my eyes are up here and two, that 'crazy killer lesbian' is your Senator.”

He shrugged, “I didn't vote for her.”

“I'm...okay, it was nice talking to you but I have things to do.”

“Well, wait,” he moved in front of you, stopping your escape, “That's not what I wanted to talk to you about actually, uh, but listen...do you maybe wanna go to dinner with me this weekend? My treat?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed with his audacity, “You literally just called my boss a crazy killer lesbian and now you're expecting me to go to dinner with you?” as if, you wanted to add but held yourself in check—barely.

“I'm sorry about that,” Sean only shrugged but he was bashful about it but it only served to irritate you further because it was obvious that he didn't quite mean it and you were mentally slapping yourself for just not ordering that damn pizza.

“Whatever, goodnight Sean.”

you tried to move around him but he shifted, keeping you in place and you knew you could've just turned around, you should've but he would've just followed you, “Well wait, you never answered my question. About dinner?”

“No.”

“Well, wait a minute...why not? The lesbian thing? It was just a joke. You can take one, can’t you?”

“And I'm not laughing, get the fuck outta my way Sean—”

“You—”

“I believe she told you to fuck off.”

Sean's eyes snapped up over your head slightly, and you would've laughed at his stupid face had you not been pivoting around yourself, your eyes meeting a very familiar chin and you looked up, but Ally's eyes weren't on you but instead glaring daggers into Sean. He'd be ten feet under if she got her way with that look. You wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it. (Maybe another version of it...)

“S-senator?”

“Oh, I'm not the crazy killer lesbian anymore? How disappointing.” when Sean could only stare at her like a fish out of the water, Ally stepped forward—a lot closer to you and you didn't have the strength to move or even look away, “I believe you were told to leave. Oh and if I even hear that you looked at or said anything to (Y/n) incorrectly, you're going to have a lot worse than a harassment complaint from a Senator to deal with.”

You didn't see him leave but you heard the squeaks of his sneaker and in seconds flat you and Ally were alone in the cereal aisle and you had absolutely no idea how to even breathe at the moment, much less process that she just saved you from...whatever that even was.

When Ally was satisfied that Sean was gone, she finally looked down at you—there was still a fire in them that you couldn't place but her brown eyes were softer than they were a few seconds ago, and you felt your shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You cleared your throat, taking a small step back—but you still felt exposed under her unblinking stare though not in the same way you felt with Sean, it was the complete opposite, “Yeah thanks to you, so um thanks...a lot. Your timing is impeccable, but what are you doing here so late? Where's Oz? Is he okay?”

Ally smiled at you, shaking her head disturbing her always perfect hairstyle, “Oz is fine, or at least he will be, he must've ate something today at school and it's not sitting well with his stomach,” Ally rolled her eyes but not at the fact that her son had food poisoning but that he had food poisoning from the school lunch. She could only imagine that other children—reforming school lunches was already on her agenda but now she was seriously considering moving ahead of schedule.

“Oh no, how bad?”

“Not too bad...he'll be okay, I'm just here for medicine to stock up on,” Ally reassured you, her eyes flickering over your shoulder for a second, “What are you doing out so late?” and wearing that? She mentally added, but held her tongue because she knew that it wasn't her place to comment on your attire—not that she was complaining about it, but Ally just didn't like the way Sean was leering at you either. She was a hair away from showing him how she earned her title.

Suddenly aware of how much skin you were showing, and that your jacket fell open again but unlike with Sean you didn't feel the need to really cover yourself (even though you knew that you should've). You appreciated her eyes more than his...and probably anyone else's.

“Oh, I went to the gym and since I don't have any food at home...”

Ally chuckled, “Is this your way of asking for a raise?”

“No! No, no you pay me plenty...I'm just too busy to cook is all and then I'm just too tired to eat sometimes. College life.”

“I was teasing, welcome to adulthood. It doesn't stop,” you laughed along with her but you both knew there was truth behind those words.

“I shouldn't keep you, I know you have things to do.”

“You know, I doubt you're going to get a decent nutrient meal here tonight, especially shopping while you’re hungry...” Ally hummed, seemingly thinking hard about something before opening her mouth to carefully speak those words, “You're more than welcome to come home with me for a late dinner if you have nowhere else to be. I'd be more than happy to feed you.”

Heh. Feed me what? You blinked, mildly surprised with how fast your mind went straight to the gutter and you felt your face heating up faster than a house fire, and you had no doubt in your mind that your boss knew exactly what she was doing to you.

But she didn't, Ally didn't have one clue to what was happening in your mind because her own mind was a pile of scrambled eggs while forcing her eyes to stay above your neck. You were both very much still in public.

And the last thing Ally wanted to do was make either you a cliché, especially with her being a public figure in a male dominant career field, both in politics and her restaurant.

“Unless you had your sights set on cereal?” Ally coughed lightly, suddenly nervous and you realized that you'd been standing there staring at her like a moron this whole time.

“No, I'd love to come home with you,” you said cheerfully, meaning every damn word for different reasons, and you smiled at her, before your eyes widened when realizing how forward you sounded, and suggestive as hell, “For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

Direct result after two blunts...sorry if it's kinda lame tho lmao I went in thinking I was writing smut and gave up somewhere

#ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair richards x reader #ahs cult #ahs x reader #sarah paulson #ahs imagine #american horror story #sarah paulson x reader

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vicious-vixxxen · 3 years

Text

Ugh. I’ll I’ve been able to think about for days is Kirishima.

Pro Hero Red Riot is always on the move. Always busy. Saving people, doing interviews, kissing babies, the whole nine yards.

When you and Kiri started dating fresh out of UA you knew what you were signing up for. Being part of the hero support course yourself, never afforded you much grandeur or fame, but that was okay. You were trusted with one of, if not the most important part of a hero’s identity- their suit. You were more than happy to tinker away at revisions, or sketching new styles for up and comers, than being out on the field.

You were the only one in the support class, even above Power Loader himself, who Kirishima took his costume and ideas to. You’d made the very first alterations to his hero costume when he first arrived at UA, after the USJ attack. From then on it was sort of a wonderfully professional relationship. As professional as someone like Kiri could be- all large toothy grins, bad jokes, and hands on communications. /Very/ hands on. Kirishima never thought twice about leaning over your shoulder to watch you sketch up the inner workings of other suits, breath ghosting the shell of your ear, always warm and sweet, like all he consumed was candy.

Or sitting next to you, thighs and sides flush as you grew frustrated over his helmet design. He’d snicker and lay one large hand over your own- because by his third year he was already towering over half the staff, let alone the students- to drag your pencil in a different direction, voice soft and secret, just for you.

You never spoke outside of the support class really, especially as the years progressed. Kiri was class 1A after all, and as your own talents started to blossom, the busier you were kept as well. Being consulted to help pros with their designs in just your second year.

But you treasured the hours after school you got to spend with Kirishima. He’d never struck you as particularly male leaning, so while you’d entertain the idea sometimes, in the privacy of your dorm room, of being Kirishima’s boyfriend, you didn’t allow it to mess up the relationship you’d built with the other boy. You chalked it up to your first real crush, and, having always been an overtly rational individual, knew you’d work through it sooner or later. Unwilling to entertain the idea of not even being friends with Kiri. Cuz being his friend would always be better than nothing at all.

But imagine your surprise, the day after graduation, when he arrived at your doorstep. Flowers and chocolates in hand, and a thick envelope nearly bursting at the seams, filled with letters he’d been writing to you over the course of your high school careers.

Apparently, Kirishima hadn’t wanted to trouble you with his feelings when you two were so focused on school, and absorbing as much as you could, and for good reason. But now, he’d stated so clearly- the hesitance behind his wavering grin made your chest tight- you were both adults, out in the world, and if you’d have him, he’d love to take you out.

The rest was sort of history.

Three years later, still going strong.

Though Red Riots newest ranking- from his wavering 7-8, all the way up to 4, had meant an influx in work the last 3 weeks. Kirishima been all over Japan, helping out on various reconnaissance missions, interviews of the rising hero variety, and just generally being kept busy by his agency.

Kiri popped in ever few days, when he could. A quick dinner and cuddle till he had to leave again. A nice long Skype session as he was flown to a new mission, if you were lucky. But the two of you always made things work. You loved each other too much to even entertain the idea of your professional loved interfering to the point of no return, in your personal lives.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t hard, but it did mean it was a manageable. Especially when the two of you tried so hard.

And your combined hard work paid off. Kirishima had been praised internationally, after a mission he was brought in for in Europe went fantastically. The Japanese Hero Commission splashing Red Riot on the front page of anything that consisted of pages, honestly. And awarding him privately with paid time off.

Paid. Time. Off.

That had been yesterday, Friday evening. You’d both returned home late, and despite how tired you both were, it didn’t stop you from fully christening some new sheets you’d bought, before passing out together.

The christening of which you recalled as you sat, sprawled out on the sofa in the living room- one leg thrown back over the back of the sofa, the other extended out towards the opposite end. A book in hand in front of you, free arm cradled behind your head. Trying to focus on the pages, as the bright, early morning sun splashed across them.

Which was hard, when all you could focus on was the blossoming bruises on your inner thighs, and pleasant ache in your ass, and the sting of the bite on your neck whenever you turned your neck even a fraction.

The night previous had been rushed, all teeth, and gnawing, and clawing, and racing towards the end together. It was wonderful, and you’d always loved the aftermath Kirishima would leave on your body. Ever the closet possessor he was.

He’d never been much of an early riser, so it was another two or so hours of trying and failing to read for you, before the familiar sounds of large, lumbering footsteps could be heard slowly making their way downstairs. You smiled, cheeks flushing, despite the many years you’d known the man, as you caught a glimpse of his wild, shoulder length red hair first. Soft at the tips, wild at the root. Kirishima yawned, ducking below the entryway into the living room, and just barely catching you staring, before you lifted your book higher to block his view of your face.

You could practically hear the grin behind his chuckling, as he stalked towards you with more purpose now. His legs in view under your book, and his hair a plum of red above the top as he crouched at the edge of the sofa. Two large hands cupping each of your feet- teasing your toes briefly, snickering at how you giggled behind your book.

Kirishima’s eyes raked over you slowly- noting what seemed to him, as miles of gorgeous, unblemished skin, ready to be marked up. Clad in just a pair of briefs you’d thrown on before coming downstairs, almost every inch of you was bare to your husband. Kirishima drinking it in slowly, as he crawled above you on the sofa. Hardening just one fingertip, and tracing it from your ankle, all the way up to your inner thigh, as he towered over you on the sofa finally. The prick of sharpness on the soft flesh of your thigh causing a hitch in your breath. Which you held, until Kiri’s finger turned smooth once more, and he took a handful of the meatiest part of your thigh into his hand, and /squeezed/.

((NSFW warning ahead, I can’t help myself so continue reading at your own risk ;3))

“Ei-Chan,” you breathed out finally, setting your book down on the floor beside you. Bright red eyes meeting yours, as one of your hands found it’s way into Kirishima’s thick locks, the other wrapping around his broad back, palm settled just between the mans shoulder blades.

“Marked you up good last night, huh pebble?” Kirishima snickered, and you huffed. Faux annoyed as you smacked the mans back, tensing once more as Kiri’s fingers danced along the bruises and bite marks littering your thigh. Tapping each one gently, causing you to flinch with pleasure each time, before he moved to your other thigh. Doing the same, as he dipped his face down into the crook of your neck, and just breathed.

The shaky sigh he let out afterwards was victory enough for you, you reasoned, as even the mans strong shoulders shook as he breathed you in.

“Missed me that much, huh?” Kirishima nodded quickly, nosing along your neck, huffing like a puppy as he went.

“I missed you too,” you reminded him, biting into the mans shoulder gently, as the hand on his back drifted down to Kirishima’s ass, and you shook it jokingly. Feeling the weight of the mans cheek jiggle in your palm, laughing despite yourself as Kiri growled at you.

“Don’t tease me, dude,” Kiri mock cried, pulling back to give you a pout, as the hand on your inner thigh drifted center again, where, unprompted, Kirishima cupped your cock through your underwear. Smirk tugging at his bitten lips- bad habit he’d always had, you’d long since stopped trying to get him to fix it- as he ground his palm against you, almost too rough, and you groaned. Eyes fluttering shit, lip between your own teeth as he bucked up, shifting your hips just right to grind your quickly stiffening cock against Kirishima’s hand.

“So eager,” Kirishima mused, balking suddenly as you moved your hand cupping his ass, into his boxers- palming at his cheek briefly, before two fingers delved into the hot cleft of his bubble butt, brushing just briefly against the tight pucker of his hole, causing the larger man to twitch, and fall flat against you. Tense for all of two seconds, before he propped his ass back up, and wiggled against your fingers.

“You’re one to talk,” you laughed, head tilted back, long enough for Kirishima to latch onto your Adam’s apple, and suck hungrily as he continued to stroke you through your underwear. Lasting all of two seconds, before shredding through them with a finger, and taking your cock in his hand.

“Those were my best Calvins, jackass,” you huffed, brushing Kiri’s hair back out of his eyes as he leaned up- holding your gaze as he let a long string of spit fall from his Mouth- letting it drip down the side of your cock, before he slicked you up, and began stroking you in earnest. Hot, and wet, calloused palm perfectly rough, and you were putty.

Mewling and fucking into Kiri’s fist with quiet, breathy ‘Ei-Chan’s’ rolling off your tongue. Clinging to enough sense, barely, to bring two fingers up to your mouth to wet, before shoving them back down and into Kiri’s ass, teasing his hole briefly, before sinking your middle finger to the hilt in his hole- both of you moaning out, Kiri at the intrusion, and you at the spasming heat of his tight hole, like a vice on your finger as you fucked the man on it slowly.

You both shifted, Kirishima up on his knees, bringing you into his lap to stroke the two of you together, constantly spitting down on your lengths, hot and filthy, to keep you wet, as the larger man began to pant into your face. Morning breath be damned, you finally, /finally/, kissed him. Reaching between the two of you to cup Kirishima’s heavy ball sac as you did, kneading them gently, and tugging on them whenever Kirishima began to breath a little too heavily.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you so much, so so much, love- love- ah, fuck- love,” Kirishima whined, vulnerable in a way no one else would ever get to see him as you took over for him- needing both hands to stroke both he and yours impressive lengths, Kiri’s hands at your back holding you up in his lap- his arms shook with the force it took, especially as he neared his orgasm.

“Cum for me, Ei,” you whispered against a Kirishima’s lips, eating up his whimpered pleas as they ghosted your lips. “Come on, big guy, cum. Cum all over me, Ei, Mark me up. I wanna feel it, on my cock. Come on.” And that was all it took. With a loud shout, Kirishima’s grip on you tightened, and he hun he’d over your shoulder, quiet all of the sudden, before making a sound like he’d been punched in the gut as he began to cum. Cock thickening up, before pump after pump of thick, hot cum burst from the top of it. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight long ropes of cum shooting out all over your chest, and combined cocks, before slowing to a dribble every time Kirishima’s cock throbbed.

You overworked him though, his softening cock, and your own hard length making the filthiest squelching noises as you continued to overstimulate your husband- his cries into your shoulder sending you over the edge, as you leaned against his shoulder, and came undone yourself. Adding to the sticky, hot mess in your laps, before the both of you went quiet. Just the deep, heavy sighs as you caught your breath together filling your the surrounding space.

“My dick feels like it’s gonna fall off,” Kiri muttered finally, leaning you both back into the sofa- making a mental note to get it deep cleaned, as he snuggled you deep into the cushions- his spit wet hands skimming your sides, before they slid beneath you , and he settled comfortably on top. Careful of his weight, always too conscious of crushing you- unless you asked for it, that was, he thiight idly. Fondly.

“We’ve got the next eight days all to ourselves, so I’d maybe see if he can hold out till at least then. Though I’d accept an early leave- no earlier than Thursday, I suppose, if he can’t keep up,” you drawled, wiping your cum covered hands on your stomach as best you could, before wrapping your arms around Kirishima’s waist, and closing your eyes.

“Eight days,” Kirishima echoed, kissing your closed eyes, closing his own as he did so, and shifting to lay more comfortably, face in your neck as he felt sleep threatening to take him once again.

“Eight days,” you parroted back again, snickering, and yawning. Ignoring the tacky cum that was going to dry all crusty and gross between the two of you, in favor of hooking a leg around Kiri’s, and allowing sleep to take you.

But not before whispering one last “I love you” between the two of you, Kirishima mumbling contentedly back at you before falling back asleep as well.

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #eijiro kirishima x male reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #Kirishima x male reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #eijiro kirishima imagine #kirishima #eijiro kirishima #vicious-vixxxen

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junicai · 3 years

Text

applause.

| order no. | 10/21

| summary | While filming for NCT2020, Aria fears her interview partner is coming down with a fever. Spoiler alert: He’s not.

| word count | 1.8k

| warnings | None

| era | circa. December 2020

a/n: ok so i figured i’d mark my return to posting with a lil floof for the soul :) before i ruin it again :) so here u go here are two idiots being idiots :)

Oftentimes, it was easy to forget just how many members NCT had amassed over the years. With the sub-units separated the majority of the time for their own promotions; the odds were that if you weren’t in a sub-unit with another member, you’d rarely interact with them outside of the company walls.

NCT2020 was incredible in that sense. Twenty three boys and one girl, all in one room, singing the same songs and performing together. The impact left on the spring-flooring when they danced as a group physically shook the mirrors.

They had a reputation to uphold; something which every single member took as seriously as a blood oath.

Aria, over the years, had formed bonds with most of the other boys. She hadn’t really had much of a choice in the matter; it was either, make friends with the people around you, or have no friends at all. It was lucky, in that sense, that they were all so warm and welcoming. She found her home in the 127 dorms, and later, her family with the Dreamies. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The fact remained, however, that when it came to Aria and WAYV - there was a gap. Be it because of the differing promotional schedules, or the fact that SM had point blank refused to acknowledge WAYV as a sub-unit of NCT up until the announcement of the NCT2020 promotions; the bottom line was, Aria didn’t know half of the members beyond their first name.

So, when the randomized name selection came out, and she was paired with Xiaojun; Aria took a deep breath, and reminded herself that this was a chance to start to form some new relationships.

She’d never been all too good at making friends as a child - always a little too shy, and then all of a sudden far too abrasive in a lost attempt to compensate for her earlier quietness.

Sitting beside the boy in question, Aria left her hands tucked beneath her thighs to prevent herself from fidgeting. The air between the two vocalists was thick; and Aria found herself looking around desperately for Mark or Ten or hell even Yuta, even though she knew Dejun was significantly more scared of him than her.

Anything to break the awkward, stifling silence that was hanging over the both of them.

“Do you-”

“Hey, I-”

They turned to face each other at the same time, sentences blending together before being cut off abruptly. Aria’s face flamed beneath the foundation, and by the darkening tips of Dejun’s ears, she could tell his cheeks were flushing as well.

“Go ahead.” He gestured with a nod.

“No no, it’s okay! What were you saying?” Aria disagreed.

“Uh, I was just wondering if you feel the breeze as well?” Dejun questioned, hands coming to tug his light jacket around his shoulders tighter. “It’s giving me goosebumps,” He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Aria frowned. “No? It’s quite warm in here I thought.” The pair were surrounded with several lamps that were shining large bulbs onto their faces. With the heat from them, and the blanket that she had tucked over the legs, Aria was toasty warm - but a quick glance at the thin material Dejun’s jacket was made out of had her untucking the corner and folding it out again.

“Here,” She offered, holding out the edge of the blanket.

“Oh no I can’t,” Dejun began to refuse, but a shiver ran down his spine, cutting his words up into pieces.

Aria raised an eyebrow. He relented.

“Thank you.” He acquiesced, once the soft material had been laid over his lap. He was still shivering lightly, but the body-shaking tremors had worn off, so Aria was better pleased than she was a minute ago.

“Okay!” A voice called from outside the set. “It’s just an interview, like you were both briefed. Feel free to take it where you want and - Aria can you just -” The director gestured to Dejun. “Don’t sit so far away, people will think you’re scared of him.” He teased.

Coughing lightly, Aria scooched towards Dejun, the blanket bunching up in-between their legs. She could feel him leaning back slightly, as if he was afraid of their faces being too close together.

“Little more.” He insisted, now peering at the two through the viewfinder of the camera.

Aria shuffled into the middle of the set’s sofa, her knee lightly brushing Dejun’s thigh.

“Better! Now just don’t look like someone’s about to shoot you.”

Aria opened her mouth before schooling her expression back into something less, terrified. “Sorry!”

This close, she could see the light flush that sat high on Dejun’s cheeks. His eyes were slightly glassy, and his chest was moving at a moderately quicker pace than it had been a few minutes ago.

Aria placed a hand on his arm, lightly, patting the exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves.

The filming went as well as it could. As they were told prior to entering the set; it was just a couple questions on how they were getting on together as a group, what it was like performing as a mix of all twenty three members, recounting some entertaining tidbits from the practice room or from behind stage.

Over the next hour, the icy feeling that had surrounded the two vocalists melted into a comfortable conversation, soon drifting away from the interview questions and flowing sweetly into a little chat that czennies were sure to adore.

With Dejun now turned to face Aria completely, and Aria sitting back with her shoes kicked off and her feet tucked beneath her; they were solely focused on each other; like the cameras had stopped rolling a half hour ago (They hadn’t) and they were old friends, catching up (They weren’t).

Aria learnt that Dejun had a penchant for green tea lattes, and the number eight. He slept on the top bunk, and was a lot funnier than his members gave him credit for.

Dejun learnt that Aria was a lot more accident prone than her ‘professional image’ would let on, that she has a dimple on her right cheek when she smiles, that when she smiles she beams - bright enough to beat out a lightbulb - and that her favourite colour was yellow and she still looked at the stars when she got homesick.

Aria learnt that Dejun wanted to travel to Paris one day, that he wanted to learn how to bake bread properly and that he stayed up too late playing games only to regret it the next morning every single time.

Dejun learnt that Aria had an addicting laugh; and he wanted to hear it as many times as he could. That he wishes she’d let herself laugh for longer; that she wouldn’t lift her hand to cover her face as she giggled.

His cheeks flushed brighter, the tips of his ears now a bright red.

“Dejun? Are you alright?” Aria leant forwards into his space, her face moving closer to his. She had noticed the poor boy’s flush over the course of the last hour; but the pink was slowly becoming a deep red, and her concern was deepening with it.

Dejun immediately pulled back; floundering. “Yeah! Yup, yes, absolutely fine.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m doing wonderful! Are you alright? Aria?” Dejun flipped the question on her, sweat beginning to bead beneath his fringe.

Aria squinted at him, relenting. “I’m okay, yeah. Are you still cold?”

“No!” The reply was sharp, and she jerked back a little.

“Oh- okay- sorry?” Aria pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, worrying the skin lightly.

Dejun could have punched himself in the face, but he settled for pinching himself beneath the blanket where it was out of sight.

“Aaand, cut!”

The two vocalists turned to the director who was grinning madly. “That was perfect, you two. I don’t know what you did, or where you pulled that from, but you’re definitely the best duo we’ve had in here so far.”

Aria didn’t think that was hard, there had only been two other groups in before them, but she kept these words wisely to herself.

“You’re both free to go! I’ll expect to be seeing a lot more of you together though, this is going to go down an absolute treat.” The director’s smug little grin reminded Aria of a cat who had gotten the cream; and her own little grin formed to match it.

“Thank you,” The two bowed lightly towards the staff, before collecting their things from the set and shuffling towards the door again. Once outside, they were silent again - but this time the lack of noise was not unsettling.

“Hey I-”

“What about-”

Dejun and Aria looked at each other momentarily, before bursting out into laughter.

“Okay that has to stop.” She giggled, hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Agreed,” Dejun coughed out, ears flushing one final time.

“You sure you’re feeling alright? You looked a little flushed back inside; that’s all.”

“Fine!” He squeaked. “It must have been, uh, the lights, or something. Yeah.”

Aria puffed her cheeks out, but made no further comment.

Pulling away, she slipped her feet into the runners she was wearing for the interview - uncaring as to whether or not she’d accidentally break the backs of them. They were old ones, anyway, ones she’d been gifted as part of a brand deal that had fallen through; no wonder, she thought, as the shoes really were all look and no practicality. They were the least comfortable shoe she owned - and Aria owned a lot of uncomfortable shoes.

“’Til next time?” She straightened up, head turned to Dejun.

He nodded, going to extend a hand as Aria stepped forward to wrap her arms around him in a hug.

What followed, was a painstakingly awkward hand-body-shuffle-jerk dance that left Aria’s face flushed red from embarrassment and Dejun’s desire for the ground to open up and swallow him whole growing to immense proportions.

Eventually, Dejun moved away, waved, turned on his heel and borderline sprinted away back down the hallway before Aria had a chance to return the wave. He rounded the corner, slowing to a stop in anticipation of slamming his head into the wall. However, thinking against it, Dejun instead turned to put his back to the wall, sinking down against it; lifting a hand to smack himself in the forehead.

“Idiot.”

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21burritoseavey · 3 years

Text

control - daniel seavey imagine

a/n: i hope you enjoy this one, this is probably the longest one i’ve ever done but i still hope you like it. oh also if anyone wants to be tagged in a post just let me know:)

warning: this imagine does describe/mention anxiety. I know that anxiety can look different for everyone but what happens in this imagine is kinda how I have experienced it. It’s nothing too crazy but be mindful and read at your discretion:)

Early in the morning I still get a little bit nervous

Fightin' my anxiety constantly, I try to control it

4:58am

Daniel awoke suddenly, his bright blue eyes snapping open. He felt the uncomfy tightness in his chest, rising and falling with every rapid breath he took, and his eyes darted around the dark room, paranoid that the terrorising monsters of anxiety had escaped from his dream world into reality. The silence of his bedroom and distant chirping of crickets outside said otherwise. Daniel swiftly shifted his gaze to his nightstand, the alarm clock read 5:00, signalling another rough night of sleep for him the third time that week.

Even when I know it's been forever I can still feel the spin

Hurts when I remember and I never wanna feel it again

He sighed tiredly before relaxing back into his bed, trying his best to smother his shallow breaths into his sheets. Daniel was wide awake, and mere seconds later, he slowly lifted his blankets to the side, draping his legs on the edge of the bed and got up cautiously. He walked slowly to the bathroom with quivering hands and approached the mirror in his en suite, grimacing at the sight before him.

Messy hair, damp forehead, ruffled clothing.

Don't know if you get it 'cause I can't express how thankful I am

That you were always with me when it hurts, I know that you'd understand

Daniel reached for the collar of his sweaty t-shirt before pulling it off, distaste etched in the features of his tired face. He tossed it in the basket, huffing lightly as he leaned onto the vanity. He stared blankly into the mirror and let his mind wander from thoughts about work to music to Y/n. Y/n, he thought again, furrowing his brows as he contemplated calling her. His phone sat plugged into the charger near his nightstand, easily reachable. Daniel knew that Y/n wouldn’t mind listening to his unwavering rambles about his nightmares like she typically did, but he still didn’t move from his place behind the mirror. Before anything else could stumble into his mind, Daniel quickly turned the tap on, the cold water flowed easily from the faucet and he rinsed his face quickly, washing the remnants of his horrors away.

9:23am

Incoming call from Y/n/n

Daniel almost grinned eye to eye as he read Y/n’s name on his phone screen and he quickly accepted the facetime, instantly seeing her sunshiny face light up his screen.

“Heyyy!” Y/n said tenderly from her comfy spot on her bed. Daniel’s expression softened as he heard her loving voice through the phone.

“Good morning, honey.” Daniel said sweetly as he pulled out a chair from the kitchen island and sat down.

“How did you sleep?” Y/n yawned.

I don't wanna lose control

Nothing I can do anymore

Daniel paused for a moment, pondering what he should say next, “I slept well.” Daniel grinned before continuing “Did you just wake up, honey?” He chuckled gently.

“Yeah...” Y/n smiled as she rubbed her eyes. She perked up quickly “Are we still coming over to my place later?” Y/n asked sweetly, gazing expectantly at Daniel.

Tryin' every day when I hold my breath

Spinnin' out in space pressing on my chest

I don't wanna lose control

“Yeah...of-f course” Daniel said as steadily as he could as he felt the anxiety boil up in his chest again. “Uh, I gotta go, I have a long day-” Daniel said with a tight smile, “I’ll talk to you later, I love you so much Y/n.” She smiled widely before replying.

“Okay, I love you, Dani.” Daniel tuned into the warmth of her voice before fading out with a quiet goodbye and hanging up. He set his phone down tiredly and got up from his seat to make some breakfast. He worked quietly but quickly, avoiding the reeling thoughts in his head.

Daniel couldn’t get his mind to stop, to just relish in the gift of presence like his girlfriend did. He admired her a lot in that way, in her ability to disregard any negative thoughts and go on with her day with the same soft, happy mood, gentle and steady. In truth, Daniel couldn’t shake the gut wrenching, shameful sense of feeling like a burden. Y/n was the person he felt safest with, but recently, he found himself intentionally suppressing his uneasy thoughts, which only left him with guilt and a distressing pit in his stomach.

3:42pm

The band had been doing interviews since 11am that morning and Daniel felt particularly exhausted from his rough and frankly non-existent sleep the night before. “Okay, listen up. You guys have two more fan meet and greets, okay?” Randy reminded the group while they sat on Daniel’s living room sofa.

Sometimes I still think it's coming but I know it's not

Tryin' to breathe in and then out but the air gets caught

The boys all agreed casually, replying with an asynchronous chorus of “okay”, but Daniel’s face only grew in panic and he shifted nervously from his spot a few paces away from everyone else. It was safe to say Daniel’s anxiety was majorly challenging him today, throwing him into a prison of worry and holding him hostage. He stared deeply into the blank monitor in front of them, his own loneliness reflected at him. The vibration of his iPhone notification piqued his attention and he read the simple message from Y/n with a grin “I miss you”. His eyes remained downcast and he dropped his phone in his back pocket again.

'Cause even though I'm older now and I know how to shake off the past

I wouldn't have made it if I didn't have you holding my hand

It felt like just minutes- no, seconds after they had finished their lunch break but the team were already preparing for the next zoom meet and greet. Daniel sighed deeply and approached the rest of the band before sitting down on the sofa beside Corbyn.

“Okay guys, you ready?” Randy asked, barely waiting for an answer before entering the zoom call. Daniel’s breath hitched in his dry throat, and he felt his body tensing and his heart pounding. He wasn’t ready. Daniel tried to cling onto any steady breath, but there wasn’t one. He felt himself spiralling into even more anxiety and his body abruptly dropped to the carpeted floor.

I don't wanna lose control

Nothing I can do anymore

Tryin' every day when I hold my breath

Spinnin' out in space pressing on my chest

“Dani?” Corbyn asked quickly, kneeling down beside Daniel. His sudden tone of concern sparked almost everyone’s attention. Daniel merely clasped his hands over his head, failing to slow down his heavy breathing.

“Daniel? Hey? Daniel-” The guys stumbled out with jittery voices. Daniel heard their concerned words on repeat but couldn’t get himself to respond. His poisonous anxiety flowed through his blood and soon he found himself heaving through heavy lungs. The boys all scrambled to get Daniel water or a cool towel or anything as Daniel sat sorrowfully on the floor with his knees up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his body. The group’s concern for their best friend’s wellbeing only made Daniel feel even worse and all he wanted in that moment was to leave. The overlap of panicked voices.

The abundance of eyes he knew were on him and the distant echoes of the fans’ voices through the screen all sent Daniel into suffocating overwhelm. In one swift motion, he lifted himself off the floor with all the might he could muster and ran to the bathroom.

The boys stood there stunned and Randy rushed to get his phone “Who should we call? Y/n?” Randy asked swiftly.

“Y-yeah, I’ll call her” Jack said quickly, grabbing his phone from his pocket and he dialled her number.

4:11pm

I need you to know, I would never be this strong without you

You've seen how I've grown, you took all my doubts, 'cause you were home

Y/n leaned her head on the bathroom door and she tried to call Daniel’s name as calmly as she could without letting her own nervous tears fall. “Dani” she said quietly, pushing her ear against the door as if to hear what he was doing. The sound of Daniel’s muffled sobs could be heard from the other side of the door. Her heart broke at that very moment, and she instantly felt sorrowful tears fall silently down her cheeks before she tried again. “Daniel, please, can you just open the door” Y/n said quietly, but Daniel heard and to Y/n’s surprise, he opened the door cautiously.

I don't wanna lose control

There's nothing I can do anymore

Daniel’s red teary eyes and quivering body were immediately noticed by Y/n, and she looked at him with concern carved in every part of her face. Daniel’s frustration and anxiety balled inside him, ravaging his mind with painful thoughts and emotions, finally erupting in front of Y/n. She shuffled over quickly to wrap her arms around him as he cried heavily into her shoulder, panting from pure exhaustion. Y/n gulped down her tears as she held Daniel tightly, whispering quiet reassurances as he let all his emotions out. Daniel clinged onto the material of his sweater she wore, and he let himself be calmed by Y/n’s presence. The sheer touch of her skin made Daniel’s sobs soften with each deep breath he took. Y/n looked down at him sweetly in her arms, “I love you, Dani” she said kindly, with the most genuine affection.

Daniel took a trembling breath before replying tiredly but easily “I love you too.”

(i swear i always end it the same smh, i wrote this so late)

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey imagines #daniel seavey fanfic #zach herron #corbyn besson #jonah marais #jack avery #wdw boys #why don't we imagines #why dont we fanfic #why don't we

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 13 | I gave him a choice, he wanted to wear it

A/N: So this is the last chapter of the main story for Tom and Vivian. But not the last I am sure we will see of them. Thank you for all the wonderful support for these two!

MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship. When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian. Which is the one thing he never knew he needed. Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship. But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

This Chapter: With the air cleared, Tom and Vivian continues to move forward in their relationship.

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Tag Lists Are Open! Let me know if you want to be added. Thank you for reading!

1 Year Later

“Does this get any easier?” Vivian leaned to whisper to Sophie as they made their way to their seats in the audience.

“No. The press junket is the worst.” Sophie squeezed her arm. “But this one is much more bearable with you here.”

“That goes double for me.” Vivian smiled.

“Tom, is he…” Sophie raised a knowing eyebrow.

“I gave him a choice, he wanted to wear it.” Vivian shrugged her shoulders. “Ben, still being a brat?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Yes. We can discuss that later. I need punishment ideas.”

Vivian smirked. Sophie and Ben had been exploring their own relationship dynamics over the last several months. Both of them knew Tom and Ben were trading notes and so they did likewise. “I’ll think about and text you some thoughts. Something Tom wouldn’t have warned him about.” They both giggled.

The past year had been hectic. The kitchen remodel took twice as long as Vivian hoped, forcing the two of them to eat out more than both wanted to. While the speculation regarding Tom and her relationship status died down significantly after Luke made a statement denying any secret marriage ceremonies, but it never really went away. She grew used to the stares and mutters and closed up her circle of friends and family in response after Ashley spilled that Tom and her met on an online dating site, effectively ending their friendship. Vivian found solace in her new friendship with Sophie, who understood better than anyone her unusual life circumstances. And life with Tom was as exciting as ever, especially with introducing new toys in the bedroom and elsewhere.

The two of them settled into their seats in the front row and waited for the show to start. Vivian beamed as both Tom and Benedict were introduced onto the stage to promote the newest Marvel film. Tom’s hair was longer, and he grew the beard back. He smiled at Vivian as he caught her eye in the audience. She recognized that smirk; he was up to something. And she was certain that something did not include the cage he was sporting under his navy double breasted suit. No one could tell unless they were looking for it. Tom had gotten good at hiding it.

“Now, Tom,” the interviewer leaned in after he asked several questions about the film to both Tom and Benedict. “your love life has been quite the subject of the papers this past year.”

Tom’s cheeks reddened, and Vivian’s fists clenched. “So it would seem. I try to not pay too much attention, Graham.”

“Well, I can imagine with such a stunning woman taking up all your attention.” Graham flashed the picture from the day Tom suggested she move in together. “Vivian, right?”

Tom nodded. “Yup.”

“Is it true the two of you met on a dating site?”

Tom blushed at the question. An old one at this point. They both rehearsed an answer for such an occasion.

“I don’t comment on the specifics of my relationship, Graham.”

“But I do!” Ben interjected. Tom frowned at him. Vivian’s eyes cut to Sophie, whose face was frozen in panic. “And I can say their relationship…” Ben glanced over at the two of you and winked. “… is built on mutual respect and trust.”

Tom sighed in relief and leaned back on the couch.

“Hardly newsworthy, Ben.” Graham groused.

Tom perked up and leaned in towards the host. “Well she is here in the audience, should we ask her for any juicy details?”

Graham pumped up the audience, who cheered as Vivian sunk deeper into her chair. Sophie scowled next to her.

“Darling, can I tell them anything about us?” Tom smiled as he looked over at her.

“No.” she called out.

Tom’s eyes sparkled again. “Not even our big announcement?”

Vivian’s brow furrowed in confusion as the audience oohed and cheered. She had no idea what announcement Tom was talking about. Certainly nothing had been cleared with Luke. Or her.

“I think she might need a little convincing, Graham. May I?” Tom gestured towards Vivian.

Graham nodded. “Why not? It’s not like you are here to talk about a movie or anything.”

Tom chuckled as he stood and moved towards Vivian. He kneeled in front of you. It was only then she noticed his hands shaking. He fiddled with his signet ring.

“Tom…” she started.

“Darling, this past year has been an adventure. A journey I have gladly taken with you. You have enriched my life in a way I could never imagine. I know that you are it. You are the one. You are mine and I am yours.”

Vivian’s brain swirled, only snapping back to reality when Tom fished a small box out of his jacket pocket and Sophie grabbed her arm. Tom popped open the box to reveal a brilliant cushion cut diamond set in platinum.

“Will you marry me?” Tom’s voice cracked.

Vivian sat there silently as a hundred eyes stared at her. But the only ones that mattered were right in front of her. Impossibly blue. And brimming with tears. Pleading, begging and full of love.

“Yes.” Vivian’s voice warbled. She cleared her throat, her own eyes now watering. “Yes, yes!” She repeated.

Tom’s face broke out into the widest, most perfect boyish smile ever as he slipped the ring on Vivian’s finger. She grabbed his face and kissed him, pulling him onto her lap. The audience erupted into wild applause.

“You saw it here first, Tom Hiddleston is now engaged.” Graham announced

“You are going to pay for this later.” Vivian muttered against Tom’s lips. No one else could hear her.

“I was planning on it.” Tom smirked, kissing her again.

“I was talking about Luke.”

Tom chuckled, kissing her cheek. “I already ran it past him, darling. I have to get back up there.”

“We are talking after.” She pushed him away playfully.

Tom winked at her and headed back onto the stage. Vivian showed off the ring to Sophie. She smiled.

“I know. He asked my opinion about it a month ago.” she confessed. “But he picked it out all by himself.”

Vivian admired the ring. “Am I the last to know about this ring?”

Sophie giggled. “No, it is probably your mother.”

“You’re right. She is going to flip.”

They didn’t get to say much else as the show was coming back from commercial break.

The rest of the interview went better than perfect. Tom beamed on stage, constantly catching Vivian’s eye. More than once, Ben had to nudge Tom’s knee to bring him back to the interview. Vivian giggled from her seat. Sophie and she slipped backstage to meet Tom and Ben back in the green room. Ben came in first, catching Vivian in a hug.

“Congratulations! Despite my first misgivings, I can’t think of a more perfect match for this ridiculous man.” Ben commented as he kissed Vivian’s cheek.

“Um… thanks… Ben.” She responded.

“How come I never get a greeting like that?” Sophie groused, smiling the whole time.

“Sorry, darling.” Ben rushed to dip Sophie and kiss her.

“And who is the one that gagged when I did the same thing?” Tom commented, sidling next to Vivian, his arm wrapping around her waist. Her hand instantly fell to the small of his back.

“That was before I knew the truth.” Ben commented, righting Sophie, guiding her to the small sofa in the room.

“You mean I could have had this romantic guy the whole time?” Sophie playfully swatted Ben’s thigh, which he dodged. “You are paying for that.”

“Add it to my list of transgressions.” Ben leaned to kiss Sophie again.

“Which reminds me,” Vivian piped up. “I will send you ideas first thing in the morning.”

Ben and Tom groaned. Tom called over to his friend. “Stock up on ice and a soothing cream.” He turned to Vivian and kissed her lips softly. “Do you like the ring?”

“I love it. You did so good.” She ruffled his hair. Tom’s cheeks turned a dark pink.

“Thank you, darling.” He squirmed in place.

“Would you like a reward tonight?” Vivian’s hand slid down to cup Tom’s ass.

Tom moved close to whisper in her ear. “What did you have in mind, darling?”

She whispered right back, sending shocks through Tom’s body. “How about you get to pick which toy I use to peg you with tonight?”

Tom’s eyes grew wide as he stared at Vivian, the blush deepening to cover his entire face and neck.

“I… I…” he muttered, his cock straining in his cage.

“I mean it is not every day you get engaged, and you have been the best boy, sunshine.” Vivian cupped his face and kissed his lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Vivian.” Tom wrapped his arms around her.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston smut #follow my lead

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

Sukuna || Interview || Fic

Part 1

Content ║ Punk!Sukuna x reader. There is an oc version here.

Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer.

Count ║ 2,626 K

Consider ║ Swearing. Female Pronouns (she/her).

Creator ║ This is the reader version. I took the name of the oc out. Hopefully the double post isn’t too weird? I did research on punk fashion, culture, and all which was really interesting. I knew some stuff about it before, but it’s really rich! I hope it’s not too information dense for you guys. Either way, Punk!Sukuna is now my comfort au and writing him is an absolute delight!! Also, Sorry for changing from ‘you’ to she/her ;v; it’s a lot easier for me to write/edit this way.

Sukuna had a lazy grin as he lounged back into a modern cream sofa. His arm stretched across the back of it, ankle crossed over his knee. Eyes staggered from the two cameras set up to the woman talking with some other chick. One held a small stack of papers, the other was grandly gesturing. He breathed out a short-stop breath, wishing they wouldn’t waste his time with bickering. Annoying as it was, it left a thick self-satisfactory lather over his ego.

“-didn’t you say the band?”

“Yeah, but this is better.”

“Sure… but what happens if-“

Quite frankly, he hated most press and avoided it, so to just have him in the hot seat was a double-edged blade. They didn’t get the whole band, but they did have The King himself. Whatever publicity he thrived off of were live shows, signings, fancams, tangible and real-time events. Interviews were a complete and utter waste of his time. He did a couple in the beginning, but found them pointless, callous even. They all asked the same shit. So, him coming alone was absolutely a note to pin to the fridge, even if it were a passive-aggressive post-it note.

His head turned to the two going back and forth. It wasn’t until the third minute ticked by that Sukuna felt the flashpoint of his blood plummet, “Yo! We doing this or what? You’re wasting my time here, Eros.”

The blogger whipped her head to the man with an indignant, “Excuse me?”

“Eros. Known for being reckless and unreliable? Like your scheduling.” He leaned forward, elbow on knee and chin in palm. The aura of shit-eatery exponentially growing, “You’re not excused, sorry, not sorry Princess.”

“I think you have the wrong God,” She quipped as she dusted off the front of her outfit. It was a smart look and an intentional one for an interview with a punk rocker. What would strike the best complement than a khaki academic outfit? It consisted of a white high collared button up, sleeves billowing before cinching at her wrists. The blouse was stuffed into high-waisted, cuffed khaki chinos, pleated at the center of each pant leg. Over top, a gray woolen sweater vest. Accessories included various silver rings, a black ribbon to tie under the folded collar, and small silver studs as earrings. Makeup remained that done-up natural with brow, liner, and mascara. Hair had been swept into something similar to a faux 1920’s bob, pulled loosely back. The overall silhouette made the perfect contrast.

Sukuna wanted to peg her as your average superficial fashion bitch, he really did. Even at the concert, she dressed smartly despite the pathetic look on she wore on face. It wasn’t until afterwards when he saw the burn in her eyes, that he craved for her to prove him wrong.

Black flats clacked as she approached her own seat, a matching armchair to the couch. She held a certain command once she walked in, instructing him on where to be, which camera to look at, and what the introduction would be. He listened, admiring how her small frame moved to and fro, fixing up last minute edits on a paper, chattering with who he assumed to be a videographer. It was a whole production. One that was hers. The set itself was practically out of a home décor magazine. It was a general space used across the publisher, but she was born to be there. Deserved to be there. Her calculated glee and deliberate positioning of each member made him feel as though he were looking through a mirror.

The interview process began.

She sat professionally, legs crossed and leaning on the arm of her chair closest to Sukuna. He was unmoving, that slit to his lip curling upwards as the cameras began. She introduced the blog, the channel, her social media handles. With a smile, she introduced herself, “With me in this special is lead singer of Two Face, the King of Curses – Sukuna.”

The camera panned to his lazy wave, “Yo.” He looked to her, she looked to him and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of interest. Maybe the man was meant for cameras after all.

“After looking more into the punk scene, there’s a pretty interesting history behind it. Revolution, social discourse, poverty, violence, and unity. As someone in the scene, can you talk a little bit about what you know of the background?”

Sukuna drank in her voice, smooth and warm like the steady strum of a bass guitar. For a moment, he wondered if she sang. He quirked a brow, “Sounds like you didn’t research enough to summarize it yourself,” Eyes flickered to her features, watching as slight annoyance crinkled onto her nose then smoothed, “Let me learn you, Daisy. Starting back from rock in the 50’s, take that, strip it, build it with shit you find in the backyard…” His wrist rolled as his harmonious voice sang on, lacking even a single stutter as he summarized the movement top to bottom, inside and out, “…So, people would make their own records, sell them in plastic bags, they’d scan and reprint photos to make their own ‘zines. Shit was hard to distribute without tech…”

Much of his dissertation, she hadn’t even found on her own deep dive into the culture. Sure, the anarchist and nihilistic ideologies were well known to pretty much anyone who would listen, but the deep history and connection between communities was far beyond the surface scratched into.

“There’s a crowd of sub-genres now. Fuck ‘punk is dead’ what even is that bull shit?” Sukuna scoffed, jerking his chiseled chin to the side, “Only thing that’s dead here is – ironically – peoples drive to change.”

His interviewer sat in silence for a moment, mind spinning. He spoke in the way a well-educated University professor gave a dissertation to his peers, dripping in confidence from his storm of information. He was articulate despite the fowl language, even including a tie in to modern perception. Excitement curled into the recess of her mind. In a delightful turn of events, expectation and reality didn’t match up.

She leaned forward slightly folding her hands over the arm of the chair, “That was comprehensive. Thanks!” She chuckled, causing the man before her to freeze and thaw with a nod. She continued, “With all of this mention of D.I.Y. culture in punk, let’s talk about Vivienne Westwood.”

Sukuna kept his attention to her profile as she spoke to the camera, catching himself in the glow of her enthusiasm, “On Kings Road in England, she kickstarted the fashion movement into gear. Now, many would think that with a style such as this, it would’ve been hand-me-downs, pins, self-stitching, but contrary to this belief, many of the clothes in her store were expensive. Knock offs circulated, and seeing as much of it did have that hand-done finishing touch, many decided to take tailoring to their own hands…” Not that this was a competition, but she found herself trying to prove his ‘research’ comment wrong. Her ability to scour and exhaust her resources of fashion history is the furnace that kept her going and she would make it well known that she was not to be challenged.

The approaching lurch of a stalemate stuck to the walls of the vocalist’s stomach. Something he didn’t think he’d feel for a while. Small stuff over here may not’ve known all there was about the cultural history, but he could feel the crashing wave of fascination washing over him as she spoke. Sure, some of it he knew. Some of it he naturally garnered from stylistic preference and others he learned for marketing, however there was just a certain target she aimed for with such precision that he bled a newfound admiration.

“You’ve answered it already, yeah, I know. I saw the interview,” Her head tilted to the side, pleasant smile hinting at her trick, “but enlighten me for a second about how your natural style transitioned to what it is on stage. We’ll put up some of the photos taken from last night here,” her hand gestured to some empty space, “You basically turned chiaroscuro and made it a performance. It’s obvious in how each member contrasted with themselves and the stage.”

The chick didn’t even know who he was a week ago, yet somehow watched every interview since the start? An answer tumbled from the tongue readily, “Punk is like a renaissance of music. Like I said before, it tore down the foundations of what was before and built something new out of it.” The words were succinct, but as her pretty lashes bat, he was goaded into continuing, “Contrast is important. I like art. I like plays. Just ‘cause it’s punk doesn’t mean I can’t have it look aesthetic? Or is that a word only snobby fashion journalists can use now?”

“Hm. Change ‘journalist’ to ‘vocalist’ and you’re a word away from meeting the requirement,” It was a sour candy treat traded for his lemon warhead.

“Ouch. Miss Blog-Spot here has some sass,” His large frame leaned further into the armrest, cheek resting on that fist.

“Mister Eight-Track here is some a–“

The videographer clapped his hands, “We have sponsors, you know. We can at least censor him.”

It was Sukuna’s time to laugh a loud, hyena-like cackle. A large hand smacked his leather-clad knee. She scrunched her nose again, biting back her tongue from childishly jutting out at him.

As soon as the videographer clapped his hands again, she recollected herself, shuffled her papers, and continued on, “From what it looks like, you took a mixture of old and new high-trend brands and added a touch to them to keep with theme. Even now, you’re wearing a Real McCoy with cone spikes embedded. Is that custom made? McCoy isn’t cheap.”

Part of him hated her keen eye, but reveled in her raw talent all the same. “I’m not going to bull shit you and say I dumpster dive for my clothes. I like high quality things. What’s the point in making money if I can’t spend it? What’s a bigger ‘fuck you’ than having your version of a top-brand item being worth more than the original?” With a proud glint in his eye, he rolled the jacket off, sure to make a grand display of strong, bare arms as he did so. The muscle tank he wore was similar to the concert before, white with a pocket, neckline was stretched and worn. It hung over the dense muscle of his shoulders and chest. Sukuna could feel the trail of her eyes on him. His chest puffed from her approval. He threw the jacket over his knee, flipping the leather inside out to show where the studs had been placed, “See this? Did it myself.”

Manicured fingers touched the inside of the jacket, thumbing the connecting points that the studs were pressed in by and sealed. The work was immaculate. Sukuna leaned back, canines gleaming as he saw her mouth move in a silent ‘wow’. He picked the front of his tank top, snapping it up and allowing it to billow back to his body, “Embroidered this, too.”

He waited for her comment, her praise. Why? Like he needed some two-bit Vanderbilt bitch’s validation. He chalked it up to being praised by a master of the craft. He hadn’t been prepared for her to take the fabric between her fingers and rub it, concentrated brows cinched like a corset. Well-toned abs flinched in response to her delicacy, but she didn’t notice.

The embroidery was messy and chaotic, but it was obviously intentionally. The way the needlework was so clean, barely leaving a hole from the pull of the exceptionally soft fabric. It wasn’t floral like in the concert, but abstract stitching created crosses and streaks here and there, using the composition of the fabric as like it were a canvas. Experimentalist. It was like touching the work of Westwood herself.

God, she hated how perfect it was. It squeezed her heart to know that he was so effortlessly multi-talented. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers once more, attention being stolen by his baritone voice. She could practically hear the treble in it, “Ey Princess, you think it’s okay to just touch me?” His breath caught under the arrogant teasing of his words. Not from the words themselves. Couldn’t care less about that. What choked him up was whatever resplendent emotion flared from them when she peered up to him.

“Let me check the tag.”

“What?”

The blogger leaned back, cheekily snapping the shirt as she did so. “Your shirt, can I check the tag? I want to see what its made out of. Also, sorry.”

Sukuna blinked twice, mouth stupidly hanging open before he leaned forward, “I’ll allow it.”

He may have tinnitus, but he wasn’t deaf enough yet to miss the mocking ‘I’ll allow it,’ muttered under her breath. He wanted to laugh, but for the second time, the graze of chilled fingertips along his skin shut him up. Along the back of his neck, she fiddled to flip the collar and tug it. Her eyes squinted and a hum escaped her throat. Sometimes she wished she could read upside down. That’s when she sat on the back on the sofa and leaned closer, pulling the shirt to better read the small print. If Sukuna were a cat, he’d lean his head into her. The thought physically bothered him.

“I knew it. It’s American Pima. Thanks for letting me check.”

He missed the shiver her touch gave him as she sat back into her chair.

“While I have more questions for you, this video’s gotten pretty long already, so we’ll have to cut it a bit short here,” She gave a closing statement, motioning for her guest to do the same. With a thanks, the cameras were cut.

While the editor and videographer chatted together, She leaned heavily into the back of her chair, poised posture slipping into something more comfortable. Long lashes slid closed and a heavy drag of breath lifted her chest. Sukuna’s eyes trailed along her form, contemplating Eros once more.

She exhaled sharply, “I do appreciate you coming on stage. It’s disgusting how talented you are.” She laughed, cracking an eye open to meet his, “I prepped a lot of questions thinking you’d be short with me. It’s a shame I only got to ask a few.”

He was surprised himself. It was more than just her talent to make him talk - she may have been the first to see him as an opportunity rather than a commodity. ‘She would be the first and last reporter to see me as a meal’ was the thought he had going into this interview. He had every single intention to shut down her buffet, make it apparent that he was not to be dined on by a single soul. Yet, if his dish were ‘opportunity’, hers would be ‘intrigue’. He wanted to devour it, to know its palette and identify its spices. It was a compulsory urge to order, just to see why he craved it in the first place.

“Film the next few concerts. Backstage.”

Tags: @lovesakusa

#⛩.sukuna #⛩.fic #⛩.punk #🍺.jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fic

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Dangerous and Divine - Part 9

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Someone loses the plot and makes a bad decision. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

You FaceTimed him, but it rang out unanswered. Shrugging, you sent him a text, just asking him to call you as soon as he could. Then you shoved your phone onto the coffee table, turned your attention to the TV and continued sipping your wine.

Billy could hear his phone buzzing, and then the ting of a text arriving. But he wasn’t anywhere near his desk right at that moment.

He was currently pinned up against the glass wall in his office by Dinah Madani, who seemed to have shape-shifted into an octopus, complete with all the tentacles. She’d almost managed to wrap herself around him, pushing her body against his. He was trying to grab her hands but she kept managing to pull them out of his grip. He was starting to get angry, yelling her name and “What the fuck!” in her face, but she was totally ignoring him - it was like she’d gone feral. He was trying his best not to use his full strength against her, but he was about two seconds away from completely losing his temper.

She managed to get her mouth onto his at one point while he was busy trying to grab her hands, but he twisted his head away. His shirt was hanging half-open, mostly untucked from his trousers, tie loose and pulled askew round his neck, then he felt her hand against his stomach, fumbling for his trouser button. A moment later, she’d managed to get it undone and began pulling his zip down, trying to slip her fingers inside the top of his boxer briefs. That was it for Billy, he was seriously not into this. He bared his teeth in a snarl and grabbed her wrist, twisting it up and around quite viciously into an armlock.

Grasping her other hand, which had been inside his shirt stroking his chest, he shoved her away from him and she lost her balance, tumbling onto her ass on the floor. Billy still stood against the window, getting his breath back and his temper in check, then he walked round her and into his en-suite.

He stripped off his wrecked shirt and dumped it on the floor, grabbing an Anvil hoodie from a drawer in the unit next to the sink and pulling it on over his head. He exchanged his trousers and shoes for tracksuit bottoms and trainers, took a deep breath and walked back out into the main office.

Madani was sitting on one of the chairs, head in hands, her fingers carding through her hair. She looked up and glared at him as she heard him walk through, but didn’t say anything. Billy had something to say though.

“I can’t believe what you just did, Dinah!!! What the fuck is wrong with you? If it was the other way round, you’d slap me with a sexual harassment charge so fast I’d get a nosebleed!”

Her eyes teared up, but she blinked them back fiercely. “What is wrong with me? Ask yourself the same question! You lead me on, make me think it was going somewhere, then drop me like a hot potato the minute you meet your little coffee queen? And now you’ve humiliated me. You’re such a bastard, Russo!”

He perched on the edge of his desk, looking over at her, “I humiliated you? How? - cos I wouldn’t fuck you when you just threw yourself at me?” He folded his arms over his chest.

“And I already apologised for maybe sending mixed messages. But you also carry some of the blame, Dinah, you assumed things based on a couple of lunches and a drink one night in a bar.” “And a kiss after that drink!” she bit back at him. He scoffed, “Fuck! Are you in junior high or somethin’?” Putting on a high-pitched voice, “He kissed me, mommy, so now we’re gettin’ married!”

He continued, back to his normal voice, “You’re being ridiculous and you know it. Listen, I’ll forget this whole thing ever happened if you get your damn head back on straight and focus your attention back onto the fucking case, instead of what I got inside my trousers!”

She stood up, “Fuck you, Russo! You know what, yes! Let’s get this case closed, then I won’t have to see your sorry ass ever again!” Looking around for her bag, she grabbed it off the floor and headed to the door. Billy, meanwhile, chuckled, “Now, Dinah... you’ve never seen my ass.”

She flipped him the finger with real feeling, and left.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was driving over to her place, and he dropped her a text saying he was nearly there. He hadn’t called her back, because he wanted to tell her face-to-face about what happened earlier with Dinah. It wasn’t something you talked about on the phone. He still couldn’t quite get his head round how desperate Madani had been, clawing at his clothes and her hands and mouth all over him. Now he guessed he knew what it felt like to be treated like a piece of meat, and at least had the decency to feel some personal guilt.

It was pretty much how he’d treated women all his life, if he was being honest. He wondered if not having a mother around, someone who would’ve loved and nurtured and cared for him, had contributed to his “fuck ‘em and leave ‘em” attitude to women. Who knew?

He sighed, knowing his girl was going to be really fucked off when he told her about it, and he only hoped that - coming so soon after the lunch date thing - she believed him when he said he’d shut her down as quickly as he could. Should he stop and buy her some flowers or something? Nah. That might just make him look guilty.

As he drove, the thought came unbidden into his mind that the Dinah thing was something that Previous Billy Russo would’ve just sat back and let happen. And enjoyed it. He started quietly laughing at himself, shit... he was screwed.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d just poured yourself another glass of wine when your phone chimed.

Picking it up, you saw it was a text from Billy... “Nearly at your place, angel. Any food going? ;) 😘”

You laughed, he really was a cheeky big devil. But, nah, no home cooking tonight Russo, you thought, I’m too frazzled after today. So you grabbed a menu from your local Thai and called them with an order of two portions of green curry, fragrant rice and some sides to be delivered in about twenty minutes.

Opening the door to Billy a few minutes later, you grabbed him into a bear hug and just rested your head on his chest. Not that he wasn’t enjoying it, but Billy knew this wasn’t ‘you’. You’d told him you didn’t ever want to be seen as ‘too clingy’ with your men. He’d told you at the time that you could cling to any part of his body you wanted to, for as long as you wanted to.

Taking hold of your arms, he gently moved you back so he could see you properly, “Hey, hey... you OK, angel?” You gulped a bit and nodded, then headed away to get a wine glass for him. Now he was here, you actually felt quite weepy, but you weren’t about to start blubbering like a big adult baby in front of him.

Billy closed your apartment door behind him, and followed you to the kitchen area. You saw him looking past you at the cooker and you laughed, instantly cheered up. “Sorry, Billy. No food, couldn’t be bothered.” His ‘disappointed puppy’ face was something to see. You poured him some wine, “Don’t worry darling, some Thai is on its way to us, should be here in about 15.” “Thank fuck for that, sweetheart, I’m absolutely starvin’!” he smiled down at you. Handing him the glass, you moved back to the sofa, collapsing onto it with a sigh.

Billy joined you, putting his glass on the coffee table and reaching down to take his trainers and socks off. He swung his legs up and his bare feet landed in your lap. You started tugging at his toes a little, and he picked his wine glass back up and took a sip. “Mmhm, that is a good red wine. And that,” he wiggled his toes against your fingers as you stroked them, “...is heavenly.” “It’s all the nerve endings. There’s so many of them in your feet.” He nodded, smirking, “But not as many as in another part of me.”

You laughed, untangling your fingers from his toes and reaching over to run them through his hair, “Food first, tiger.” He laid his hand over yours as you rested it on the back of his neck, sighing, “Yeah, okayyy... I won’t argue with you about it this time.”

Your buzzer sounded just then, and you collected the food from the delivery guy, then took it all over to the coffee table. Picking up cutlery and napkins from the kitchen, you and Billy proceeded to demolish the delicious Thai meal and then both collapsed back against the sofa. “That was...” Billy groaned and stretched, “...wonderful.” He reached for you, pulling you against him, kissing you lazily, softly. “Mmm. You know you didn’t kiss me when I got here? But I’ll let you off,” he smiled at you, but the smile faded almost immediately . He suddenly sat up, as if he was going to make a break for the door.

You felt a bit spooked by this - you’d just decided that second you were going to tell him about your ‘stalker’ - and it was almost as if he’d guessed you had something uncomfortable to say.

Looking across at him, you cleared your throat, feeling nervous for some reason. You noticed Billy had the same nervous look on his face you were sure you had on yours.

“Billy...” he was staring at you, “Madani came to the café today. Twice in fact.” His mouth dropped. You carried on quickly, “The first time she just had a coffee and left. In fact I wasn’t even 100% sure it was her. It was though, she came back later under the pretence of interviewing me to find out how us knowing each other would ‘impact’ her case.” You reached over and took his hand, he was still staring at you, amazed look on his face. “Then she just couldn’t help herself, she told me you two were seeing each other - dating, she said!”

He was shaking his head, “Nuh-uh, no! We were never....” You interrupted him, “I know. Look, Billy, I set her straight. Told her that was before you met me, and... and all that stuff with her was in the past.” A small grin appeared on his face, and you continued, “I hope I wasn’t out of line saying that.” He stroked your hand, “You definitely weren’t.” “But I didn’t tell her why you’d been... so friendly... with her. She wasn’t happy, Billy, like really not happy. Stormed off without saying another word.”

Billy was nodding to himself, “All makes sense now.” He looked over at you, eyes wide, “Got a visit from her too, must’ve been after she’d been to see you.” He took a deep breath, “Look, you’re not gonna like this, but please just hear me out.”

Your stomach dropped, you really didn’t like where this was heading. What had that crazy woman got up to with Billy?

“She came to Anvil, and... and, well she basically jumped me. Just walked in, didn’t say a word, tryin’ to get my clothes off, hands everywhere. I tried to grab her hands but didn’t wanna go over the top.” You were still holding hands, and he intertwined his fingers with yours, gazing deep into your eyes. “She went for my zip and that was it, got her in an armlock and threw her off me. She fell over on her ass.”

He was surprised when you burst out laughing. That was a much better reaction than he’d been expecting. “Oh I’d’ve paid good money to see that,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “Billy, I think she’s lost it. Gone a bit nuts with jealousy over you. Your male ego must be totally preening right now.” He smirked, but then got serious again. “No, actually it’s not... it’s just made me feel guilty. About how I had a “one and done” approach with women up till now. Got a dose of my own medicine, angel.”

“Treating people like sex objects, you mean? I’m sure most of us have done that at some point. Maybe you more than most,” you shrugged. “But have you turned over a new leaf, Billy Russo?” you asked, hand going to his bristly cheek. He nodded slowly, “ Yes I have, ma’am. Ever since I met you,” leaning in and kissing you. Your arms went round his neck, and you kissed him back hard. He whispered, “I was really afraid to tell you about it. Thought you wouldn’t believe me.”

You whispered back, “I don’t really know why, but I trust you, Billy. Don’t make me regret it.” “I promise you I won’t.”

You slid your hands under the hem of his hoodie, “Moving right along, Russo... I hope you don’t mind if I treat you like a sex object for the rest of the night.” His eyes twinkled at you as he said, “Oh, well, gee I might need to get my union rep involved.”

You slid your hands further up his chest, and reached up to kiss that sensual mouth of his. Then you sat up and took your bra off from under your t-shirt, dropping it on the floor before climbing onto him. You shimmied your leggings down your thighs slightly, and rubbed your body along his. Bill’s eyes were as wide as the moon, watching to see what you were going to do to him.

One of your hands went to the waistband of his tracksuit but then you paused, “D’you want me to stop, Billy?” Despite your earlier joke, you were aware that Madani had just invaded his personal space and not in a good way. His dark chocolate eyes were gazing into yours, and shaking his head he stuttered, “N-no.”

So your hand continued its journey southward underneath his boxer briefs, and soon it was happily wrapped around his velvety length. He gave a deep groan, one hand going to your hip, the other to your clit. You really weren’t in the mood for foreplay. After the events of the day you just wanted to feel Billy inside you, making you feel good and driving away any remaining thoughts or insecurities you might have about Madani.

The fact that you both still had your clothes on was exciting you as it made it seem like you two were having an illicit encounter. You pushed Billy’s tracksuit and briefs down to mid-thigh, revealing him in all his glory. Knowing you were more than ready for him, you gave him a couple of firm strokes and then guided his cock between your legs and put his tip straight inside you.

Billy gave a surprised gasp, but then thrust up into you as you rode him. “Uhh...” he groaned, then managed to say, “...no condom.” “Fuck it,” you whispered back, “...it’s fine, don’t worry.” You loved the view you had of him, hair in disarray where you’d been running one hand through it and those dark eyes of his on you, always on you. You felt him deep inside you and clenched around him, making his eyes close in pleasure and a long low groan escape his lips. His hand gripped your hip, his other hand massaging your breast and palming your nipple, making you gasp.

You stepped up your pace, riding him like you were about to ride off into the sunset. He was making a lot of noise you noticed, crying out and groaning, almost whimpering, so you leant over and whispered “Puppy” into his ear. As expected he laughed but then smacked your behind, quite hard, making you yell “Ow!!!” You gripped him extra firmly in retaliation and he howled, “Okay, okay, I surrender! I can’t last much longer anyhow....” and he did come shortly after that, huffing out a big breath, fingers digging into your hips and his own thrusting up to meet yours. He then made sure you climaxed, staying inside you, stroking your pussy before moving his thumb to your clit and pleasuring you until you came.

You lay in each other’s arms, in that post-sex blissful state. Billy’s nose was buried in your hair as it lay against your shoulder, and you could feel him rubbing it back and forward, tangling up in your hair and gliding across your skin too.

You heard a massive sigh, his chest rising and falling. “Billy?” you murmured, “You OK?” He sat up a bit and propped his head up on his elbow, gazing at you. He gave a quiet laugh, “No, I’m not. In fact, I’m really fucked.” You sat up too. “Well, yes so am I, if you recall!” you laughed. Reaching out, you stroked the hair on his chest, between his pecs.

“But, seriously, what d’you mean, Billy?”

His eyes looked huge as he gazed at you, “I, uh... think I’ve fallen in love with you.” He stroked your cheek, “And it scares the shit out of me.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: In case you hadn’t guessed, this my imaginary ‘Real Love for Russo’ AU ☺️

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

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impala666 · 3 years

Text

The One With The Stoned Guy Part Two (Amuse Bouche)

Sorry it took so long! But here is the next part to the Friends Rewrite. I’m just kind of writing when I find time. Enjoy all!!!!!!

Last Part (Part One), Series Masterlist

It was the next morning and the night before was the first night where you actually slept at Bryan’s apartment, you didn’t even go to yours and Ross’s apartment. But no you found yourself walking toward Monica and Rachel’s apartment for early breakfast before everyone went off to work or in your case school and the work. “Good morning,” you cheered with a smile. Everyone in the living room bid you a good morning in return while Joey sat there and stared at you with that same sad dog expression. So Ross must have told him that you never went home. “So, I heard you didn’t make it home last night.” Rachel confirmed your suspicions, but apparently Ross just decided to up and tell everybody.

“Yeah, last night was my first night actually staying there,” you smiled brightly at her when you thought about all of the adventures that you had with Bryan.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Rachel asked as she scrunched up her face and came closer to you to make your conversation a bit more private. You were about to answer her when all of a sudden the apartment door slammed from behind you.

“Can you see my nipples through this shirt?” Your big brother asked after he entered. He made sure to lift up his suit jacket so that all of you could have a good look.

“No,” Rachel answered for him as she carefully looked. “But don’t worry I’m sure they’re still there.” You laughed at her harmless joke.

“Where’re you going Mr. Suity-Man?” Phoebe asked him from her spot in the living room next to Ross.

“Well,” Chandler reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “I have an appointment to see Dr. Robert Pillman, career counselor a-go-go.” You listened to him as you took a seat on the couch, but realized that you sat too close to Joey like you used to. So you had to awkwardly slide in the opposite direction no matter if it made you a little upset and Joey very. “I added the a-go-go.” Chandler emphasized as all of them ignored the thing that just happened.

“A career counselor?” Rachel asked him, wondering why he was going to see this guy.

“Hey, you guys all know what you want to do.” Chandler whined to you all as he started to get defensive.

“I don’t,” Rachel chimed in.

“Hey, you guys in the living room all know what you want to do. You have goals, you have dreams. I don’t have a dream!” Chandler declared. But no matter how serious he tried to come across as, you all still found it a little funny.

“Ah, the lesser-known “I don’t have a dream,” speech.” Ross called Chandler out on his mistake.

“Y/N/N?” Chandler asked and placed his hand on your shoulder so that you would turn in your seat and look at him. “How did you know you wanted to go to Esthetician school?” He only asked because you had taken such a big leap to follow your dreams even if it made a few other people unhappy.

“I don’t know really. I just never really enjoyed or got into anything that I was learning while I went to college. But I always enjoyed skin and skincare and makeup, so once I actually found a career in it. I just decided to go for it.” You explained. “And even though it was terrifying at first, I know that it was the perfect decision.” Chandler couldn’t find words, he was just so proud and jealous of you. He just wished that he could find something that he was just as passionate about.

“Oh, I love my life! I love my life!” Monica cheered as she had just gotten back from an interview with that restaurant guy. She was beaming from ear to ear and it looked like it hurt.

“Oh, Brian’s Song.” Phoebe guessed, thinking that Monica was quoting a song.

“The meeting with that guy went great?” Rachel asked her after Phoebe’s strange outburst.

“It was so great. He showed me where the restaurant’s going to be. It’s this cute little place on 10th Street; it’s not too big, it’s not too small. It’s just right.” Monica beamed as she shared her experience for her new job opportunity.

“Was it formerly owned by by a blonde woman and some bears?” Chandler joked, when Monica accidentally quoted the famous nursery rhyme.

“So, anyway I’m cooking dinner for him Monday night. You know, kind of like an audition.” Monica continued as she just ignored everything that Chandler just said. “And Phoebe he really wants you to be there,” she explained as she made her way over to the woman in the living room. “Which would be great for me because then you can make oh’s and ah’s and you can make yummy noises.”

“What’re you going to make?” Rachel asked Monica.

“Yummy noises,” Phoebe answered instead, acting like it was obvious.

“And Monica, what are you gonna make?” You asked, changing the question to one that everyone could understand.

“I don’t know. It’s just got to be so great.” Monica answered you as she walked over to her shelf of cookbooks to try and come up with some ideas.

“Oh! I know what you should make.” Phoebe announced as she ran over to join Monica and Rachel in the kitchen. Almost knocking you down in the process as you made your way over to them, as well. “You should make that thing with the stuff.” Phoebe said as she sprinkled imaginary spices into her hand. “You know that...thing.” She just couldn’t think of it. But Phoebe could tell she wasn’t getting through to any of you. “Okay, I don’t know.” She finally gave up.

“Hey, guys. Does anyone know a good date place in the neighborhood?” Ross asked, changing the subject.

“Uh, how about Tony’s?” Joey suggested, and seeing as you used to date him you could see where this was going. “If you can finish a 32 ounce steak, it’s free.” Ross looked up at you for confirmation to see if he ever took you there.

“Yeah, no. That was the date from hell.” You felt bad for saying so, but it was true.

“You said you loved it!” Joey whined.

“Yeah, but we couldn’t finish because no human can, so you got upset and left, sticking me with the cheque.” He treated you like a queen, but you had to call a spade a spade. That date stunk.

“Okay, does anyone know a good place if you’re not dating a puma?” Ross asked again as he joked at Joey’s answer.

“Who are you going out with?” Chandler asked him with a chuckle.

“Oh! Is this the bug lady?” Phoebe asked Ross.

“I love you, Ross.” Rachel joked as she started buzzing like a bug and using her fingers as antennas.

“Her name is Celia. She’s not a bug lady. She’s curator of insects at the museum.” Ross defended.

“So a bug lady?” You asked since Ross was trying to be technical, but he knew that you were messing around.

“So, what’re you guys gonna do?” Monica asked as she flipped through a cookbook at the table.

“I just thought we’d go out to dinner and then bring her back to my place and I’d introduce her to my monkey.” Ross sounded like he was 100% joking but when you looked at him his face was serious.

“And he’s not speaking metaphorically.” Chandler mumbled to himself.

“So, back to your place. You’re thinking maybe, heh-heh?” Joey asked Ross as he implied sex.

“Well, I don’t know heh-heh.” Ross said under his breath to Joey. “I’m hoping heh-heh. So Y/N can you steer clear of the apartment tonight.” You nodded even though you had nowhere to go since Monica had her dinner tonight and you and Joey were broken up. You would have to just go back to Bryan’s, oh well. Too bad.

“I’m telling you-that monkey is a chick magnet. She’s going to take one look at his furry cute little face and it’ll seal the deal.” Joey promised him.

*******

It was later in the evening, all of you were back at Monica and Rachel’s while Monica tried out some new recipes to have all of you try. Joey, Phoebe, and Rachel sat at the kitchen table. While you and Bryan sat alone in the living room. You really were surprised at how well everyone was getting along with Bryan, including Joey. They weren’t really best friends because clearly Joey still harbored some feelings, but they were able to be in a room together. That was all you could ask for. The both of you sat on the couch talking with Bryan’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. Bryan was about to continue the fire story that he had been meaning to tell you, but he jumped out of his seat when the apartment door slammed shut from an aggressive force. “Oh, my God. What happened to you?” Rachel asked, you kneeled on the sofa to turn and look who had entered. It was Chandler with his shirt unbuttoned slightly and tie loose, with a stack of folders looking he had had a day.

“8 and a half hours of aptitude tests, intelligence tests, personality tests and what do I learn?” Chandler also seemed a little on edge. “You are ideally suited for a career in data processing for a large multinational cooperation.” Chandler read off of the test result that he had gotten.

“That’s so great! Because you already know how to do that!” You cheered him on sarcastically. Bryan chuckling quietly as he looked up at you.

“Can you believe it? Don’t I seem like somebody who should be doing something really cool?” Chandler asked all of you as he paced along the kitchen, half-heartedly waving to Bryan without looking at him. “I just always pictured myself doing something…something.” Chandler frowned down at the floor as he lightly stomped his foot.

“Oh, Chandler, I know.” Rachel got up from her seat and half hugged the man as she patted him on his chest. “I know. Oh, hey! You can see your nipples through this shirt.” But Rachel’s realization did not seem to help Chandler as he turned his head and glared down at the woman.

“Here you go. Maybe this will cheer you up.” Monica tried as she offered Chandler a plate of mini food.

“Ohh, you know I had a grape about five hours ago. So I better split this with you.” He joked again as he tried to push passed his disappointing day.

“It’s supposed to be that small, it’s a pre-appetizer. The French called it an Amuse Bouche.” Monica taught all of you. So Chandler took one for the team and popped one into his mouth, when suddenly he wasn’t as upset at the moment.

“Well, it is amoozing.” Chandler joked even though he couldn’t help but get where Monica was coming from.

“You’re friends are so weird.” Bryan said quietly to you as he deeply chuckled.

“I know,” you beamed. “Isn’t it amazing.” You smiled at him in return and Bryan wrapped an arm around your waist as he pecked a kiss to your forehead.

“Hello?” Monica said as she answered the phone that had started to ring a couple seconds ago. “Oh, hi, Wendy. Yeah 8 o’clock. What did we say, ten dollars an hour? Okay, great. I’ll see you then. Bye.” Monica hung up the quick phone call and you couldn’t help but notice the hurt and surprised look on Rachel’s face.

“Ten dollars an hour for what?” Phoebe asked, before Rachel could jump to conclusions.

“Oh, I asked one of the waitress’s at work to help me out.” You couldn’t help but cringe when Monica didn’t even realize her mistake.

“Waitressing?” Rachel asked in surprise.

“Uh-oh,” Joey sang as he stood up from his chair.

“Of course I thought of you, but...but,” Monica couldn’t even think of an excuse.

“But-but?” Rachel repeated for her, you could tell that she was starting to get a little upset.

“But you see this night had to go perfect, you know.” Monica’s excuse was already flimsy. “And well, Wendy’s more of a...professional waitress.” She really was just digging herself in deeper.

“Oh. I see, and I’ve sort of been maintaining my amature status so that I can waitress in the Olympics.” Rachel joked to hide her hurt.

“You know, I don’t mean to brag, but I waited tables in Innsbruck in ‘76.” You added to try to make the conversation a bit more lighthearted. But Rachel did not find it funny at all when she glared at you, so you shrunk down and hid behind Bryan for protection.

“Amuse Bouche?” Chandler offered Rachel the plate of food to try and diffuse the situation. You were about to kiss Bryan when he leaned in, but a voice made you jump up.

“Hey, Y/N.” Joey’s voice rang out.

“Yeah?” You asked, wondering what could be so important that he was interrupting your moment with Bryan.

“We’re still on for hanging out, right?” He asked, you just furrowed your eyebrows at him. What game was he trying to play at?

“Um, yeah. Sorry must have forgotten,” you tried to play it off. But even you knew that your face just read surprise.

“Great, see you then,” Joey smiled. So then you tried to play it off with a smile, but you were breaking when you felt Bryan look at you with slight confusion.

Taglist:

@vampiregirl1797

@kellysimagines

@shizzybarnaclee

#friends rewrite #friends #Joey Tribbiani #joey tribbiani x reader #reader #bing!reader #sister!bing #chandler bing #monica geller #ross geller #rachel green #phoebe buffay

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brazil-hinata · 3 years

Text

caught in between: pt. one—trouble

pairing: miya osamu (or maybe atsumu) x f! reader

genre: a cliché title for a cliché story, love triangle between the miya twins, a tiny angst??, mutual pining maybe??, slowburn???, but mostly something light and fluffy and crack

setting: third year of high school, inarizaki high

wc: 1.5k

warnings: none

Right person, wrong timing.

It had always been like that with Atsumu. Ever since you got to know him, the chemistry between you two was just right. Even if none of you had confessed, you both know that the feelings are mutual. Heck, even the entire volleyball team knows you and Atsumu are head over heels for each other.

But the timing was just never right. At least not before. But now that the two of you are seniors, him going to v-league and you to university, mayhaps this time, nothing else can stop the two of you.

*Flashback*

First year of high school.

It bummed you so much that you ended up in the worst class of your year. You were aiming to be in class 7, but because you were sleep-deprived when you took your entrance exam, you didn’t realize that your answers were one space off; which earned you a place in class 1. But it wasn’t as bad as you thought. Being seatmates with Samu and Suna, you naturally got closer with them. At first you thought you wouldn’t click as you have opposing interests, but they’re actually very chill and shares the same vibe as you.

Before you know it, you’ve been spending your Saturdays in the Miya’s household together with Rintarou playing some Xbox and eating some chips. Although you’ve always seen Atsumu in the hallways and you’re close to his twin, it wasn’t until you’ve visited their house that you’ve really spoken to him.

“Whose that nerd?” Was the first thing you’ve heard the moment you step foot in their house. There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd, but Atsumu’s tone was just so condescending and judgy that it pissed you off so much. Besides, you don’t even look like a nerd.

“Y/N, meet the inferior twin and my asshole of a brother, Atsumu. Atsumu, meet Y/N.” Osamu said as he takes off his shoes.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Atsumu said again, this time more politely.

Instead of acknowledging Atsumu, you decided to be passive-aggressive and speak to the superior twin.

“Dang, samu, how the heck can you tolerate someone like him?” You said loud enough which made Samu smirked and Atsumu’s face crumpled.

“Hey! I heard that!” Atsumu said loudly. Meanwhile Suna is already in the sofa choosing which game to play.

“You started it!” You shouted back.

*End of flashback*

Since then, it’s as if you and Atsumu can’t and won’t stop bickering, even in the stupidest things. Before you know it, he’s already making you laugh. Before you know it, your usual hangouts of four became just you and him. Before you know it, you’ve fallen head over heels for him. Second year came, and finally, you moved to the advanced class. Despite that, you’re still close with Samu and Rin; but your bond with Atsumu was simply incomparable.

But you never dared make any move, and neither did he. Both of you were too career-focused, him with volleyball, you with academics. You knew deep inside that making a move will just ruin the wonderful bond you have right now.

You were brought back to reality when you heard Atsumu called your name.

“Y/N!” He shouted through the hallways.

And there he was, the most beautiful person you’ve ever known. Your lips automatically flashed a wide grin at the sight of him.

“Tsumu!”

You saw him pushing his hair back as he walked towards you. You know him so well that you know he’s doing that to look cool. Well, it was cool, until he tripped over his untied shoelace that turned his face a deep shade of crimson and you bursting out laughing.

“H-hey, y-you okay?” You said between your laughs. It was coming to the point that you can’t breathe anymore.

“J-just help me up, ‘kay?!”

“Oh, dear Atsumu. You’re already in your third year and you’re still just as lame.”

“S-shut up! I’m not lame! I’m the captain of the volleyball team.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s just say that.” You said as you two sat in a bench on the schoolgrounds.

“Hey!”

“Anyway, have you chosen which team are you going to? Are you going to the same team as Rin? I heard from him that it’s division one.” You changed the subject before Atsumu starts another bickering session.

“Nah, Raijin’s in Hiroshima. That’s too far.”

“So you’re just gonna choose a lesser team ‘cause you don’t wanna leave this place?” You know he wouldn’t do this. But you just love to tease and edge him every chance you get.

“Who says I’m choosing a lesser team? If there’s really no good team here then of course I’ll leave. But it just so happens that I received an offer from MSBY, also a division one. And they’re based here.” He said as a smirk formed in his face.

“So… you’re choosing MSBY?”

“Yeah. Their spikers seem pretty to play with. I can’t wait to use Oliver Barnes! And even if he’s a dramatic ass, I wanna try playing with Bokuto too.” He said as his eyes light up talking about the sport he loved most, which made you smile. You could listen to him talk about volleyball all day.

“Why is it so hard for you to leave Kansai anyway?” You asked out of curiosity.

“There’s a lot of reasons to stay.” He said as he stares at your eyes intently and sincerely, which made your heart race. You didn’t want to assume, but he’s saying it as if youare one of the reasons he’s staying.

“A-anyway! I have an interview in Osaka Uni next week!” You said as you wanted to cut off the tension that’s forming.

“Really? Congrats! Though I’ve always known you’d get it!” And to your surprise, he hugged you.

“Tsumu! It’s just an interview! It doesn’t mean that I’m already in!”

“Whatever, the moment they see how impressive you are, I know you’re already in.”

“Tch. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?”

Your conversation was cut off when the school bell rang, signaling the end of the 10-minute break.

“Hey Tsumu, let go!” You said as he was still hugging you.

“Now that we’re finally achieving our dreams, I think it’s time we talk about us.” He whispered, and then kissed your forehead, before quickly walking away, leaving you dumbfounded in the middle of schoolgrounds.

You were five minutes late to class, but you didn’t pay no mind. You didn’t even know how you walked. All you know is that you’re in cloud nine and you’re floating.

You were smiling like a fool all throughout the day. When lunchtime came, you and Atsumu were unusually quiet and would just steal glances at each other, then smile afterwards as the five of you (You, Suna, The Twins, and Ginjima) eat together.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” Ginjima asked, pertaining to you two.

“Nothing.”

“Not at all.”

The two of you said simultaneously. Realizing you said it at the same time, you and Atsumu grinned at each other again.

“Oh, shut up. Something happened. What is it?” Suna followed up.

“It’s nothing, really. I just got an interview from Osaka University.” And Atsumu kissed me in the forehead. You said, trying your best not to look too happy.

“Aye! Congrats!” Ginjima said as you brofist the three of them.

“How about you? Why are YOU so happy?” Samu asked his twin suspiciously.

“Geez! Is it a crime to be happy now?!” Atsumu’s dramatic ass counters.

“I decided I’m going to MSBY!”

“Damn, that means you’re still saying here?” Samu.

“Oh shut up, Samu! I know you can’t live without me!”

“Pretty sure YER the one who can’t live without me.”

*****

It was long after lunch and you were on your way to the Science lab, your last class of the day. When you reached the lab, you were surprised to see Osamu standing just beside the door, the top three buttons of his shirt unopened.

“Samu! What are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me, why?”

“I wanted to borrow a pencil.”

“You do realize you could have just borrowed one of your classmates, right?”

“Well, you have the best pencil collection…”

“Tch. Here you go. Now go back to class before you get late.”

“Yes Ma’am. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to learn a lot.” Samu said as he opened the door for you while smirking.

Then suddenly your heart was beating crazy and your knees was weakening. You know Samu is not the smiley type, but in your two years of friendship, you have seen him smile and smirk from time to time, so it wasn’t an unusual sight to see.

So WHY, after many, many months, are you going crazy over Osamu’s smile like a fool? Is it because he shares the same face as atsumu? Or worse, did you just develop a crush on him?

Oh Gosh.

And for the first time since senior year started, you didn’t listen to what your teacher was explaining.

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Whisky Secrets (sequel)

Here's something different. Before I ever thought about posting fanfic here, I used to write things inspired by fanfic I found by some of the incredible writers I found on tumblr. I've never posted any of them but I've really felt like writing something for Aleister Black/ Tommy End lately.

So I reached out to one of my original favourites on this site, @ghostofviperwrites and asked her if she'd mind if I published this sequel I wrote to her story Whisky Secrets. She gave me the ok (for which I thank her very much).

You absolutely have to read her piece first or this won't make any sense. It picks up literally at the point where hers leaves off and the entire premise is based on what she wrote. I think this goes in a very different direction than what she had in mind, though.

Since this is an old story, some of the characters are very different than they are now. It was set at around the time I wrote it. Based on events in the story, it's pretty clear when that was.

It's a bit dated but I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Aleister Black x OFC (hints of Roman Reigns x OFC)

Word count: 7,031

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, language, incidental roughness that some might find stressful

You rested on the sofa for too long, knowing that you had to get to work, that you were already behind on an assignment that was due that afternoon. As much as you desperately wanted to cling to the scent and the feeling of him being there with you and the idea that he might someday want to be there with you for longer, you knew that you were only wasting time by indulging in a fantasy. Once again, you reminded yourself, he saw you as a friend, a landing pad after he was finished his adventures. And so you dragged yourself to the computer and tried to focus.

It was a fluff piece you’d been hired to write: places for new residents of Orlando to meet people. You’d accepted it because the pay was good and it had seemed easy. But what the hell did you know about meeting people? You’d barely met anyone and the only ones that you’d call friends were the ones you met when you’d done an in-depth profile on the WWE and their development territory NXT. Of those, only Aleister had remained close and even then, you couldn’t say that the two of you had ever properly opened up to each other. Nevertheless, you’d stayed in touch with a number of them, occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks. None of this was in any way useful when it came to recommending locations to connect with strangers.

You’d tried to start the article the day before but now when you opened the file, you discovered that you’d only come up with a half a dozen corny titles and one word of text:

When?

The word was too painfully appropriate.

When were you going to run out of luck and be unable to find further work as a journalist?

When were you going to admit that what kept you here, rather than moving to another state and pursuing more secure work, was the fact that you were in love with a man who was only interested in your capacity as a friend and caregiver?

When was your hopeless love going to break you beyond repair?

Annoyed with yourself, you deleted the word and tried to start again. You could meet people at the gym classes that were ubiquitous in this city. You could meet people at get-togethers for shared hobbies like hiking or pottery or basically anything. No one had to meet people by getting thrown into their orbit and being unable to extricate themselves.

About half an hour into your resentful hammering on the keyboard, you were startled by your doorbell. For one sweet instant, you imagined that it was Aleister dropping by to pass some time with you. Then you realized that he never came to you without an invitation unless it was dead drunk in the middle of the night. Even when you invited him, it was only every fourth or fifth time that you asked that he agreed to come over and watch a movie or go for a walk in the nearby park. There was no way it was him at your door at eleven o’clock in the morning.

In fact, the person at your door was Bayley, chipper and warm as always, returning the spare laptop you’d lent her a few weeks before.

“Thank you so much,” she beamed, thrusting the computer into your hands. “You are a lifesaver. I’d have lost my goddamn mind if I hadn’t had this while mine was in the shop.”

“It was nothing,” you insist, smiling at her unconstrained warmth even though you didn’t feel very positive about your life at that moment. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

She nodded cheerily and stepped across the foyer. You never really knew how you fit in with the women of WWE, even though you’d spoken to many of them in depth. Bayley stood out because she was determined to be your friend despite your introvert’s reluctance. And, indeed, she was irresistible. Much like her in-ring character, she cast sunshine wherever she went and her glow was contagious, even in your darkest and lowest moments.

You motioned her into the kitchen, offering her a choice of lemonade, iced tea or water. Her eyes immediately fell on the empty whiskey bottle you’d left on the counter, her expression growing more serious as she focused on it.

“Getting started early?” she cajoled.

“A friend left that here,” you replied guiltily.

She narrowed her dark eyes as she looked at you. Sweet and optimistic as she was, Bayley was not naïve. She knew exactly what friend had left the bottle behind and she knew how you felt about him.

“I’ll have a glass of lemonade,” she said, the smile slowly returning to her face.

You joined her and the two of you jokingly touched glasses before drinking.

“So, a few of us are getting together tonight,” she said hesitantly. “I thought you might like to join us.”

Your first instinct was to ask if Aleister would be there, but you thought better of it. Instead, you responded, “Well, I have an article I need to finish.”

Of course, your article was due by the end of the afternoon, which meant that your evening was free regardless, but part of you wanted to be at home in case Aleister came staggering over again.

Bayley’s jaw set in a determined expression you’d only seen from her in the ring. “We’re having a party for Roman, to celebrate him going into remission.”

Well now you felt like a bit of a bitch for making excuses and didn’t know what to say.

“It won’t just be wrestlers there. Some other journalists are even coming. And I know that it would mean a lot to him if you were there.”

When you’d done your article on the WWE, you’d interviewed Roman Reigns and he’d been incredibly generous with his time. He’d even contacted you after your interviews to confirm that you had all the detail you needed. He was the face of the company and had done everything possible to make sure that the company had provided what you required. He’d clearly wanted to make sure they’d left a good impression and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his PR skills. Although you knew it wasn’t true that it “would mean a lot to him”, you were touched by the idea that he remembered you and might like you to be there to celebrate his great news. At the same time… you needed to be there for Aleister.

“Look,” Bayley insisted, “I’m going to text you the details for the bar where we’ll be. It’s not a big deal, just a bunch of us getting together to be happy for our friend.”

There was no way that you could refuse that, so you shyly thanked her as she gulped the rest of her lemonade and made for the door.

“I’m serious,” she said as she departed. “You work so damn hard you deserve a night off. Finish what you’re doing and come have fun with us.”

As soon as she’d left, you once again sat down at your computer. Before you could return your attention to your work, however, you couldn’t resist checking Instagram.

Someone had tagged Aleister in a photo on Instagram.

Yes, you were that pathetic that you always checked.

With trepidation, you clicked the link to look at what was there. As it too often did, the notification came from an airbrushed-looking woman, her collagen-enhanced lips pressed against his. She looked arrogant and proud, while he looked smug and inebriated.

“Guess who I got to hang with last night?” the caption gloated.

You knew damn well what “hang” was a euphemism for. He never cared that the Barbie dolls he hooked up with advertised their conquest on social media. He was single and hot. Why should he care if people knew that he always scored with the sort of women other men lusted after? Why should he care that it ripped your heart to shreds every time you saw him with another woman so unlike you in every way?

The woman had posted a few other photos of the two of them together, embracing. Every part of her magazine-ready body was on display, save those parts that would have gotten her in trouble. Her artificially perfect breasts were spilling out of a tiny tube top while her endless legs were shown in their full glory between the edge of a skirt that likely required her to trim her pubic hair and the sky high heels that raised her enough to press her lips to his without having to stretch herself awkwardly. She was nothing like you, with your unkempt hair and loose, bohemian dresses, your comfortable ballet flats and blandly natural face. She had all the glamour that you lacked and he ate it up.

The images of the two of them cut into you like a laser and, for once, all you desired was to break free from the pain of feeling. A few minutes later, when Bayley sent the text she’d promised with the details of where you could find the party tonight, you immediately responded.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

To hell with Aleister and the designer women he adored, you told yourself as you returned to your article with a vengeance. Tonight you were going to do whatever it took to break the spell he had cast over you.

It was just after nine when you found yourself teetering to the entrance of the bar where the party was taking place. It was marked only by a subtle sign, no words, just a stylized anchor, and it was hidden away on a tiny street that was hardly more than an alley. In your fit of pique, you’d finished your article two hours before your deadline and then, having examined the options in your closet and found them wanting, headed out and spent entirely too much money on a new dress that clung perfectly to your breasts before flaring out to highlight the movements of your body, while covering just the bare minimum to maintain decency. You’d also picked up a stylish pair of ankle boots with heels higher than you were used to and that posed a legitimate threat as you made your way down the roughly paved road to the speakeasy-style bar.

A little further down the alley, you see a couple leaning against a car, taking turns swigging from a liquor bottle. The woman is one of those glamorous animals that makes you so insecure, laughing in drunken delight in a way that only confident people can. In one quick movement the man spins her around and bends her over the hood of the car. He immediately takes out his cock, stroking it a couple of times before he thrusts into her, one hand on her back while the other holds the bottle that he continues drinking from. And it’s a moment before you realize that it’s Aleister, fucking away at a woman whose name he won’t remember in a few hours.

The sight makes you want to curl up and die, makes you want to say that you’ve made a mistake and run along home so you can bawl your eyes out while you wait for his inevitable drunken arrival. But, if nothing else, the damage that you’ve done to your credit card in order to make yourself look just a bit more sexy and edgy than usual, as well as the glasses of wine you had already consumed to fortify your courage, push you forward. This is a test. In order to pass, you need to be able to ignore the man whose indifference is killing you and enter the world of others, where someone who wasn’t up to the standards of the rarified model girls might be willing to give you a second look.

Aleister doesn’t even glance up as you enter the bar a few feet away from him, can’t feel the dark weight of your eyes on him or the force with which you tear them away as you step through the door.

As soon as you do, you are once again frozen with the idea that you’ve made a mistake. When Bayley characterized this as a “get-together”, you’d assumed it meant a group of people spread out around a few tables chatting away and toasting Roman’s health. Instead, what greets you is a basement club full of people with a dance floor alive with writhing bodies. You recognize a few journalists but for the most part, the space is taken up with every WWE and NXT star you’ve ever heard of. It’s a convention of beautiful people and you can’t help but feel dowdy even in your overpriced finery.

You slowly descend the stairs, fully intending to look around, say hello to a few familiar faces and then bolt for the exit, but you’re immediately greeted by a familiar voice that fairly shrieks. “Oh my god woman, just look at you!”

It’s Sasha Banks, standing at the edge of the stairs with Bayley, who gives you an exaggerated round of applause.

“Miranda, you look amazing,” Sasha continues breathlessly. “Seriously, you’re putting everyone to shame.”

You don’t feel like you’re putting anyone to shame, least of all Sasha in her body suit that hugs every curve of her perfect little hourglass, but you blush at the compliment.

“Come on,” Bayley gushes, “we need shots to celebrate your hotness!”

She pulls both of you through the crowd to the bar and somehow is able to get the bartender’s attention almost immediately, ordering two rounds of tequila shots because, she tells you and Sasha, there’s no point in getting just one round when you know you’re going back for seconds. The three of you toast and toss down the shots and then immediately do so again and you have to admit that you’re feeling the warm glow already. Sasha, apparently feeling something herself, wraps her arms around you and once again reassures you that you are devastatingly beautiful.

Another shot is thrust into your hand, this time by Dash Wilder, who’s arrived with his Revival partner Scott Dawson. Wilder has always been attractive to you, so you give him as radiant a smile as you can manage and you swear he blushes a little just before he downs his shot. Dawson is hugging Sasha and Bayley close to him, allowing Dash to edge a little closer to you and you’re feeling a little high on yourself when another voice cuts through your circle.

“Miranda? Holy fuck I can’t believe you’re here!”

Roman Reigns pushes right through the bodies close to the bar and grabs you firmly by the shoulders, his eyes gradually focusing on yours. He’s grinning with an intensity that clearly comes from his being a little past feeling no pain but it doesn’t hamper the thrill it gives you when he wraps his arms around you and nearly crushes you in a hug.

“I mean, shit, I don’t think I’ve even talked to you since you did that interview,” he pouts. “Thank you so much for coming.”

You smile as another shot is pushed into your hand, biting your lip self-consciously. You down about half the shot before Roman grabs it from you and finishes it, breaking up with laughter. He signals the bartender for another round, keeping an arm around your back until the tray of shots arrives. You’re all toasting each other and you wonder why you ever questioned yourself for coming here because this is exactly what you needed.

“Come dance with me,” Roman chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the dance floor. He’s clearly floating on a sea of drunken bliss, goofing around and happy to have someone to have fun with, someone he didn’t expect to be there. Even if you wanted to resist his offer, you couldn’t because, while he isn’t doing anything that might hurt you, his grip is strong enough and the rest of him powerful enough to compel you forward.

The two of you deliberately dance like complete nerds in high school, awkward movements and ironic posturing until you’re both laughing so hard you can barely stand. It’s then that you realize that you’ve become the focus of some attention; Roman goddamn Reigns, the face of the company, the locker room leader, the man who everyone has come to celebrate, is dancing with you. Most of the people here have no idea who you are but because you’re with Roman, you are somebody. Basking in the subtle attention and envy, you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the music, swaying to the beat until you feel a large pair of hands on your hips.

You open your eyes to see Roman pulling you closer to him with a devilish grin before spinning you around and pulling your back against his massive chest. You continue to move but at a slower pace, your movements limited by how close he’s holding you and the sensual way in which his body moves against yours. Keeping one arm loosely around you, he lets his other hand fall against your thigh, lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It makes you gasp.

“You never responded to any of my texts,” he murmurs gruffly in your ear.

You remember at least half a dozen messages asking if he could clarify anything or if you needed any additional material for your article. You hadn’t needed anything else but you suddenly feel terribly rude for not answering.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “you were very professional and I should have at least told you that I had what I needed.”

His voice drops even lower as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to be professional about them. And I was hoping that you didn’t have everything you needed.”

He pulls you up and firmly against him and for the first time you can feel his hardening cock through his pants. You can’t help but thrust your hips into him, barely able to process what’s happening to you. The two of you are still ostensibly dancing, although it’s more like a rhythmic grinding to the music as he reaches down and pulls the hem of your dress up, rubbing your thigh and then your ass as he presses his lips into your neck. His hands are everywhere on you and you’re aware that your entire lower body is basically on display for anyone who cares to look but you don’t care because it feels like you’ve won the lottery. You moan at the feeling of his growing excitement against your flesh, both his large hands grazing up the front of your thighs and for a moment you think that you’re ready to beg him to take you right there when you’re violently spun away from your dance partner, a bruising grip on your arm.

It’s Aleister, eyes incandescent with rage as he tells Roman, “I need to speak to her for a minute.”

Roman looks confused and tries to speak to you but Aleister drags you away and a gaggle of women immediately descend on Roman, desperate to take your place.

Aleister flings you against the wall, glaring at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen outside the ring.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“I was dancing before you interfered,” you snap back at him, rubbing your arm.

“Dancing?” he repeats with derision. “That’s what you call that?”

“I was having fun.”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

For the first time since you saw him with his woman of choice outside, you feel ridiculous, like a girl trying to look glamorous by donning her mother’s clothes.

“I wanted something a little different.”

“A little?” he hisses back. “Do you realize what you look like? You’re all tarted up and letting some guy grab at you and get you half naked in front of a bar full of people.”

“What I look like?”

“Everyone could see practically your whole goddamned body. They could see what you were letting him do to you.”

“You mean to say I look like a whore.”

Aleister crosses his arms and glances away, refusing to confirm what you’ve said.

“So what, Aleister? So what if I’m letting a man touch me and show me that he wants me? Who cares who else sees? Maybe that’s what I want!”

“Are you so stupid that you think he wants you for anything other than a one night stand?”

The accusation stabs at your heart and your confidence but you’re determined not to let him see that.

“Again, so what? Maybe I’m happy to have this big, gorgeous man want me. Maybe I’m fine bringing him back to my place for a few hours of fun because at least it means someone is thinking of me as a sexual being for a change.” You pause, knowing the danger of what you’re about to say but unable to stop yourself. “Maybe I’d be fine if he just took me outside and fucked me over the hood of a car.”

For a second, you think that Aleister is going to strangle you. The look on his face is like the moment before the sky erupts in thunder and lightning. Truthfully, you expect that he’ll turn on his heel and walk away from you and never come back, and perhaps that’s what you need him to do so that you can get over him.

Instead, he grabs you, pinning you to the side of his body and pulling you towards the door. His movements make you stumble, and the more you try to resist him, the more ungainly you look.

“She’s dead drunk,” you hear him assure a few people, “I’m going to make sure she gets home.”

And while it’s true that you are drunk, you’re not nearly as drunk as he’s making you out to be. The second he has you outside, you try to twist away from him and go back, only for him to wind you closer, pulling you off balance so that you look even more inebriated.

You hear him whisper to Seth Rollins, who’s observing the spectacle through the corner of his eyes. “Look, tell Roman that she’s falling down drunk and I just had to get her home. No disrespect meant.”

Seth has a confused expression on his face but nods and tells him, “Sure thing.”

Realizing what Aleister is doing, you once again try to rush past him, but he blocks you, gripping your arm and pulling you after him so that you really do appear pathetically unable to take care of yourself.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” you shout at him, figuring that there’s no reason to worry about who might hear you, there being no further you can sink in their estimation. “Why can’t you just let me enjoy myself?”

“Jesus, Miranda, you’re loaded. You can barely stand up.” He emphasizes this by jerking your arm forward, which almost causes you to keel over onto your face. “You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“No,” you insist, pulling yourself to a halt. “I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. Sure I’m a bit tipsy but-“

“You don’t want that,” Alesiter snaps, threading his arm through yours and continuing down the street. “You don’t just want to whore yourself out for a night because you think it might help your self-esteem.”

“You don’t get to decide what I want, Aleister.” You’re crushed against his side and he’s moving so quickly that your feet only graze the ground every third or fourth step. “Let me go. I’m sick of playing the surrogate mother for someone who’s incapable of seeing me as a real woman. I want to go back there. I want to have someone make a show of wanting me. I want to get fucked so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Aleister shakes his head like a parent frustrated with a misbehaving child. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“So let me be ridiculous!” you yell back, trying unsuccessfully to extricate yourself from his grip. “What the hell is it to you? Are you worried that for once I’m not going to be there when you need a place to collapse at four in the morning?”

The two of you reach the corner where the alley meets the street and he swings you to face him, glowering at you with a terrifying expression, gripping your biceps so hard you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. He says nothing but stares at you until he whips his arm out and hails a taxi seemingly out of nowhere.

He launches you, there’s no other word for it, into the back seat of the car and snarls your address to the driver as your tears start to fall. The cabbie is noticeably uncomfortable with your quiet whimpering and seems confused by the fact that Aleister does nothing to comfort or engage you. He sits with his arms folded, scowling, until you arrive at your building. Reflexively, you reach for your purse only to have Aleister swat your hand away and pay the driver himself. You try to keep pace as he yanks you towards the door, but stumble because of your unsure footing in these strange heels and because your vision is glazed by the tears you’re fighting to hold in.

When Aleister pins you against the door and rummages through your purse to find your keys, it somehow feels more invasive than Roman gripping your ass for an entire bar full of people to see. You feel, for a moment, that he is looking at you with tenderness. But when the door opens, he simply guides you through it. As you hear it click shut, the last of your strength, physical and emotional, gives out and you drop to your knees, finally allowing the tears to fall. It’s a full-on ugly cry, punctuated by guttural, anguished sounds you’d never allow anyone else to hear. Despite everything, you desperately want to hear the door open again behind you and to hear him say that he’s realized he loves you.

But no, in the end, he’s just found it gross that the woman he sees as his caregiver might have another side. He found you pathetic in your overpriced dress and shoes. He knew that you were desperately trying to act like something you could never be: like someone who could compete with the perfected Instagram beauties he fucks every night. You could never be that. He knew that you were just a sad little woman decked out in a gaudy outfit. You’d never be that sexy, desirable person who stopped men dead in their tracks, no matter what your dance with Roman had temporarily led you to believe.

You’re on your knees for what seems like hours, choking on tears and snot and trying to restrain yourself from howling. Just as the sound overpowers you and a low wail escapes your lips, you’re startled by a pair of arms, familiar, tattooed arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Shh. There’s no need for any of that,” he grunts into your hair.

And while you’re shocked and thrilled that he actually stayed behind to make sure that you were ok, it’s also even more humiliating that he’s seen you fall apart so spectacularly. Your body feels limp with defeat and unable to react at all as he gathers you up and carries you into your bedroom, setting you gently on the edge of the bed. He rests his hand on yours for a moment and you’re able to stem the flow of tears until he stands up and heads back towards the door. This time, you’re determined to hold in the worst of your misery until you’re sure he’s gone, even though you can’t stop the tears from running down your face.

But after a few minutes of straining to hear the door close, you see Aleister return, a damp washcloth in hand, and he sits once again beside you on the edge of the bed. He presses the cloth, cool and soothing, against your cheeks and then holds your chin as he delicately wipes it across your face. It takes you some minutes to realize that he’s removing your smeared makeup, cleaning you off so that you look good as new, so that you look more like the plain girl who lets him into her home in the middle of the night, his touch filled with a tenderness that you never imagined him capable of. When he’s satisfied with his work, he tosses the cloth aside and wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against him. The sweetness of his friendly gesture makes you want to cry all over again but you choke it back, knowing that you’ll have plenty of time for that when he’s gone.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he whispers, the sound of his voice making you feel weak.

You nod and roughly pull back from him, unsure of your ability to stop yourself from throwing yourself at him and begging him to wreck you. You fumble with the zipper of your boots until Aleister slides off the bed and onto his knees and removes it for you. He glides his hand along your calf, up to your thigh and then moves to your other boot. As he slides it off, he presses his head against the side of your knee, giving the skin a light kiss before rocking back on his haunches. You know he’s being gentle with you because he feels sorry for you. He finds you pitiful, which is even worse than finding you asexual.

The feelings are too much for you to take and all you can think of is that you want to get into bed where you’ll be safe and where you can sleep off the nightmare your evening out has become. You clumsily shed your dress, stockings, bra and panties without thinking much of the fact that you have an audience. Why should it bother him seeing you naked, after all? Normally, you put on some nightclothes but you don’t even have the strength to bother. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Aleister has turned his head towards the door. He’s embarrassed for you, the way you would be if a parent or sibling was undressing around you.

You crawl under the covers with a grumbled “good night” and immediately start to feel yourself drift off. You’re jolted back to wakefulness when Aleister climbs in beside you. In all the time you’ve known him, as many nights as he’s come and collapsed on your sofa, you don’t think he’s ever seen your bedroom. Now, having seen it, he’s apparently happy not to leave it, indulging in the comfort of your bed without even asking permission. It makes you a little self-conscious that you’re nude but it’s hardly the most humiliating thing to happen to you tonight, so you let yourself ignore it. If you can just fall asleep, this night will be over and you can begin the process of trying to forget it.

It’s only a matter of seconds, though, until you feel his body pressed against yours from behind, one hand coming to rest flat on your stomach and pushing you back against him so that you are acutely aware that you are not the only person naked in the bed. The hand on your stomach flutters downward until his fingers are moving lightly over your pussy, like he’s plucking the strings of a harp. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you flush against him, close enough that you can’t mistake the feeling of his erection against your back.

He presses his lips and tongue against your neck, making you whimper as you try to keep your heart rate stable. Your little noises seem to motivate him further, his touch becoming more insistent and one of his legs snaking over yours, pulling it back to give his hand greater access.

“Such a little fool,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking insistently along your fleshy folds. “Thinking I don’t see you as a sexual being.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out- more from the shock than the pain. His mouth continues to move around your neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking on the skin there, his grip on you tightening until it’s nearly painful.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask.

“Leaving marks,” he says matter-of-factly.

You’re at a loss for what to say, but are saved from having to answer as he pushes two fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You’re embarrassed that he must have felt how wet you were just from being in his presence but he says nothing, quickening his pace and giving satisfied little growls when his touch elicits gasps and cries of pleasure from you.

It’s pity, you remind yourself; what he’s doing to you, he’s doing it because he feels sorry for you and because he’s drunk and horny despite his encounter earlier in the evening. But the thought gets whisked away as he brings you closer and closer to what you’ve desperately needed from him for so long. You let out a little shriek when he removes his hand, unable to believe he’s so cruel as to bring you to the precipice and then deny you. But he simply flips you onto your back before pressing his fingers inside you once more, watching your reactions to be sure he’s hitting just the right spot before burying his face between your legs. His tongue, lips and fingers work together like an orchestra. Your knuckles are white from the force of clenching on the sheets and you’re biting down so hard on your lip to muffle the sounds you’re making that you’re worried your teeth will end up permanently embedded. He unexpectedly raises his head and stills the movement of his hand inside you and the shock is almost enough to make you start crying again. You look down at him, his eyes sparkling in the low light with an expression you can’t read.

“Why won’t you let me hear you?”

Because you don’t want him to know how good his merciful little gesture is making you feel. Because you don’t want to admit to yourself that it’s better than you’d imagined. Truthfully, whenever you’ve thought about the mechanics of sex with Aleister, you imagined that it would be fast and rough and hedonistic, much like his other sexual encounters seem to be. But he’s chosen this moment to take his time, to focus on his partner, rather than go for a quick, dirty fuck in a darkened corner.

You don’t tell him any of this, instead croaking out, “I’m shy.”

He raises himself up and over your body with the effortless grace of a serpent, pressing his head close to yours and kissing along your jawline.

“What do I have to do to make you not be shy?”

“I don’t know… I just… am.” You wriggle a little under him, turning your face away when he looks directly into your eyes.

He cups your face in one hand and runs the other, still wet with your juices, over your breast, teasing the nipple and making you shudder involuntarily.

��Am I moving too fast?”

You shake your head, not quite trusting your voice.

“Is there something that you’d enjoy more? Something you want me to do for you?”

You give him another little shake of the head.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. Whatever you want, I want you to tell me so I can give it to you. Anything.”

For the first time, he kisses you on the lips, his tongue, that still tastes of you, slides against yours and the hand at the side of your face slides to hold your neck, cradling your head so that you don’t have to tense any muscles to stay in that position. Your body has nothing it needs to do but experience the sensations he’s creating. Of course, you still answer his kiss, hungrily flashing your tongue against his, reveling in the light scrape of his lip ring against your lips. His hand glides back down between your legs, and even the proximity is enough to draw a couple of little mewls of pleasure. You feel him smile a little against your lips at the noises and he pulls away from the kiss.

“Am I making you feel good?”

You nod as he starts to work his fingers around your entrance once again.

“Do you want my mouth down there again?”

You nod even more vigorously than the first time but he shakes his head.

“Tell me. Say it out loud.”

You open your mouth to do so and he immediately thrusts his long fingers into your g-spot and your clit at once, making you yelp in pleasure. It’s almost enough to make you cum on its own but he eases the pressure before you reach that peak.

“Yes?” he asks again.

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“Then let me hear you. Please.”

He returns his attention to your core and has you making all manner of unholy noises in short order. He expertly teases you and then holds back, so many times that when he does finally take you over the edge, you feel like you might pass out from the intensity of it. Your gasps for breath sound cavernous in the quiet room.

He keeps the palm of his hand firmly against you as he leans forward and presses his lips into your neck, letting out a satisfied purr every time an aftershock rolls through your body.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve fully come down, he raises himself up on his arms, giving just the hint of a smile when you grab onto his biceps to steady yourself.

He’s so rigid that he doesn’t even need a hand to guide himself into you. He simply presses forward in one slow but sure moment, his eyes closed as if it’s a kind of religious experience, not opening them until he’s fully seated inside you. It’s been long enough since you’ve been with anyone that the feeling of being stretched draws a little whimper from your throat. He remains still, his eyes open and bearing down on you with a delirious kind of excitement, aching prick twitching inside you, desperate to proceed but waiting for a signal that he can.

And it’s at that moment that you allow yourself to think that this isn’t pity or a drunken mistake, that he’s as hungry for you as you have been for him and that what’s happened tonight has just served to connect a circuit. The fiercely possessive look in his eyes as he watches you, the fury when he thought someone else was claiming you, the need to mark you to make you his, the flush of pure lust on his face and chest… it is just a little frightening, something you suspected was in him but never that it was focused on you. But you’ve always known you could handle his darkness if he let you in. So you thrust your hips a little and wrap your legs loosely around his waist to show him that he can continue. Just as he starts to move, he cups your face and presses his mouth to your ear.

“You deserve so much better.”

“Stop trying to make those decisions for me,” you moan, feeling your insides flutter with his movements.

“I’ve never felt anything like that jealousy.” He’s staring into your eyes as he confesses. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder pressing deeper inside you and gasping at the feeling. “Knowing that everyone could see how sexy and beautiful you are… And I’m an idiot for waiting for that to happen before I did anything, I just…”

He grimaces and slows his pace a little, obviously trying to prolong the sensation.

“You mean it?” You have to ask because you still can’t quite believe that this has been on his mind for all this time when he’s shown no sign of it to you.

“God yes,” he answers through gritted teeth, once again allowing himself to move faster and more urgently.

You can’t completely banish your fears that he’s going to regret this in the morning and just shut you out again but every second with him is pushing them further away. You lace your fingers through his hair, nipping at the shell of his ear as he lets out his own stream of desperate, lusty noises, running your nails gently down his back as he approaches his crescendo.

His head drops to your chest and he cries out as he releases inside you.

“Fuck I love you, fuck I love you, fuck I love you.” He repeats it like a mantra that brings him back down from his high, saying it a final time as he looks into your eyes.

Slowly, he rolls onto his side, gathering you close to him like he thinks an errant breeze might carry you away.

“I have…” he begins quietly, “… there’s a lot that goes on in my head… Bad things, I guess. I thought you’d run away. Or that I’d pull you down with me. I still don’t know that won’t happen.”

He looks so vulnerable that it makes your heart hurt but at the same time you have to stifle a smile.

“Well I’d rather you let me try to deal with it. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for being.”

His expression grows a little guilty and he nods. He wraps his arms tighter around you and you do the same until the two of you are lying in your bed, wound around each other.

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Love Bites

(a blurb from the “My Girl” Series)

Warning: Smut.

Word count: 2020 (lol)

AU: older!harry, younger!y/n (4-year age gap).

Anon: Hey mg harry making out with bambi and maybe she left some marks on him and thr next day he has to shoot for a naked scene .At first he tries to refrain from opening his shirt but later does and when everyone teases him about it he just gets do smug because he fucked her right. And then maybe telling bambi all about it at night when they're in bed or she is sucking him off. Could u write smthng about it??

One, two, three, four.

Four love bites scattered across his neck. He’d forgotten how long he’d been staring at them as if they would disappear if he looked long enough.

When he returned to the room, she was still perched on the bed, her hair damp and her skin flushed from their intense love-making. She pushed herself up and blinked innocently at him. “What?”

His irritation was easily detectable. He marched toward the bed and pointed to the red marks she’d left on his neck. On contrary to the horror on his face, she fell back, laughing into her palms.

“It’s not funny!” he grumbled, his face growing hot. She caught his wrist before he could storm out, dragged him back to the bed so he could sit on the edge. She scooted over on her knees, hugging his waist from behind, her cheek cool against his naked back.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Was he mad at her?

“I told you not to leave a mark,” he heard himself say and looked over his shoulder to find that she’d pulled back, frowning.

“I didn’t mean to.” She stroked one of the love bites with her thumb. “I’m sure they can cover it up with makeup.”

They could. But it’d be so unprofessional to show up on set with hickies all over and make people wait for you to get it covered up. He wanted to say that, but what came out of his mouth was a dejected sigh.

“I should go.”

As he rose, she moved toward the edge of the bed, looking up at him with her big twinkling eyes. “I didn’t mean it, really,” she whispered.

He considered her puppy dog face before dropping down on the bed and wrapping his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to her temple and gave a reassuring grin to ease her nervous frown. “It’s okay, kid. Might be a bit embarrassing but—” he chuckled, shaking his head. “God, Brian will tear me apart.”

Brian was his co-star, his best friend in the cast, and definitely the type to make plenty of dirty jokes about the love bites once he spotted it. Styles! Brian would call from the dressing room entrance so everyone could hear it, Looks like you had a fun morning, mate!

Harry snorted at all the reactions in the room, now more amused than annoyed.

“You’re sure it’ll be all right?” Bambi asked, eyebrows still furrowed. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

He squeezed her hands and kissed her knuckles. “It’ll be fine, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

She couldn’t help but worry about it.

She’d been reading and writing a bit since he’d left, in order to distract herself until he returned. He’d said it was no big deal, but the look on his face had said the opposite. In her defence, she hadn’t been aware of what she’d been doing. She never felt the need to use her head while he was buried deep inside of her, so she guessed it’d been her fault; she’d been careless.

She didn’t know if his contract had specifically stated that he should not get any marks on his body during the shooting period of the film. Even if there was, he still wouldn’t tell her. Also, his manager didn’t like her very much because Harry had dropped so many interviews and photoshoots for her, even before they were officially together. Maybe after this Jeff would hate her even more.

She had no idea when she’d drifted off on the sofa with a book opened and faced down on her stomach. She only stirred awake to the sound of her door being unlocked and opened. She pushed up slowly, stretching her limps as she welcomed him with a lazy smile. The aggression on his face worried her. As he marched toward where she sat, she opened her mouth to ask if he’d got into trouble, but he shut her up with his mouth against her before she could say a word. He gripped her hips, pushing her back on the couch with her head on the armrest.

They only broke the intense kiss so he could pull his shirt over her head and palmed each of her breasts roughly. Her nipples were hard, needy for him. She moaned his name when he kissed down her neck. She was only wearing her panties and he was wearing too much, so she pushed at his chest to get him to rise on his knees, stripped off his jacket and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

She got up to straddle his waist as he rotated to sit with his back against the couch. He gripped her thigh and brushed his nose across her chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. She held the nape of his neck, gasping and tossing her head back.

“What happened on set?” she asked breathlessly. He tried to drag her back in when she pushed away from him, gripping his shoulders. He started palming her buttocks, wanting to pull her to his cock which was poking against the fly of his trousers, but she fixed him with her eyes. “If you got hard after filming a sex scene with someone else, I swear–”

He shook his head rapidly and tried to kiss her again, but she didn’t let him until he answered.

“It’s the hickies,” he admitted, his cheeks flushed, either because he was horny or embarrassed to tell her why. “My castmates teased me for it.”

“And you got smug, didn’t you?” she flashed a grin, stroking his hair. He groaned into her neck and squeezed her bum as she ground her clothed pussy against his cock. She was already soaking through her panties.

“Brian said I must’ve fucked you right. You have no idea how much I wanted to say I did.”

“Why didn’t you say it?” she murmured, her eyes shut as he licked and sucked her neck, probably leaving his own marks on her.

“Not sure if I was allowed.” She felt his smirk against her hot skin as he stroked his tongue over her nipple and licked his way up to her mouth, sliding his tongue over hers. “Does it turn you on?” he whispered. “The idea of me...telling my friends...how hard I...fucked...you,” he said between sloppy kisses.

She couldn’t speak; her mouth was wide open but all she could do was nod. She took no time to unbuckle his belt and got him sitting butt naked on the couch. His eyes went dark, piercing at her as he ripped her panties in half and she let out a frightful scream. Before she could scold him, he shut her up with a passionate kiss.

“I’ll buy you ten new pairs,” he hissed against her lips while rubbing her clit. She was so wet she could hear the delicious sound of his fingers moving against her and then inside her. He pulled out before she could cum and inched his dick into her tight dripping pussy. They both gasped when he was all the way inside with nothing between them.

“Move,” she groaned, frustrated, unable to open her eyes.

His hips stuttered a bit before he started thrusting slowly. “Give me a moment. I don’t wanna cum now,” he chuckled, his face dazed with ecstasy. She ignored his helpless expression and started moving her hips and giggled when he smacked her arse as a warning.

“Do that again and I won’t let you cum.”

She simpered at his empty threat. “You don’t have the power to decide, Harry.” She fucked him slowly, rewarded by the wet delicious sounds coming from his throat. “I can just finger myself on that armchair over there while you watch. Get myself off the way I do when you’re not here.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” she hissed, fingers tightened in his hair.

Harry growled as he clenched his jaw and palmed her arse, thrusting increasingly faster. He was so big and deep that she could feel him all the way in her stomach. He stuck his thumb into her mouth as he fucked her harder so she wouldn’t scream. The last time they’d been too loud, one of the old ladies from across the hallway had threatened to call the police. She couldn’t look at the lady in the eye after that.

“God, yes, fuck me. Just like that,” she gasped. “Want to see your face when you come in me.” She rolled her hips faster, every nerve in her body tingle and flare in response to his affectionate roughness.

Harry gave a long and rough groan, “Yeah. God–love you so much.”

“I know, baby. Love you too.” She stroked his cheek, biting her lip. “So fucking good, God, don’t stop, please --”

She leaned over him, hair falling across his chest as she moved, fucking herself on him in a rhythm that started slow, almost hesitant, but gained in speed and force as she went.

“So big, Harry. Filling me up, fuck.” One of her hands was in his hair, but her other hand had slid to one of her breasts, pinching and tugging on her nipple. “Gonna come on your cock. Gonna come on you.” Her hand moved from his chest to her clit, and she started to work herself over again, stumbling on the rhythm.

“Shit, let me,” Harry said as his fingers tangled over hers. “Want to–Want to get you off. Please let me?”

She nodded, eyelids fluttering as she found her pace again. He groaned and thrust up into her, matching her rhythm as his fingers rubbed frantically over her clit.

“Oh, oh God, Harry.” She cried out his name again and again as her back arched and she came, hips jerking against his hand, driving herself down on his cock. She collapsed forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head on the couch, kissing him wild. “Fuck me, Harry. I know you’re close.”

She groaned roughly as his hands went tight on her hips, holding her still as he thrust up and into her, hard and fast. She whimpered and licked along his neck, tasting sweat and salt, and Harry bucked up off the couch and pushed her hips down at the same time. He could only grunt as he chased the feeling.

She bit down on his earlobe, her voice shuddered, “Come in me, please, need it. Need you.”

He rutted up against her, mindlessly pushing deep one last time before he came, pulsing into her. She collapsed on his chest, numb and trembling. The only sound she could hear was the buzzing in her ears, the thunder of her heartbeat, and them panting together.

After a few moments of silence, he pulled back and laughed, looking smug at how dazed she appeared. “Sorry. Made a mess on your couch.”

As he grinned at her, she knew he wasn’t really sorry. He reached down and traced where he was still inside her to find his come still trickling out, and she felt herself blushing at the hungry look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t done with her yet. Her body was almost boneless so they might need to take a short break before consider doing anything again.

“I hope these won’t get you in trouble at work,” he said with a smirk, tracing his thumb across the skin of her neck; he was talking about his love bites.

She rolled her eyes and ran her hand through her hair. “The only trouble is that they’ll remind Eddie of how single he is, and he’ll torture me with an extra amount of work that I might not do anyway.”

He laughed, shaking his head and kissing her again. When his phone rang, it took him a moment to locate it. He slipped out of her unwillingly but kept her on his lap as he reached for his phone on the floor.

“Uh-oh. Someone’s in trouble,” she said and bit back a smile when they saw Jeff’s name on the screen.

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