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ihave-atummyache · 2 months

Text

you drive me crazy

Stray Kids Imagine

summary: things that makes the boys weak in the knees.

OT8

5.3k words

NFSW!!! 18+

(some smut but not really a smutty piece. super suggestive tho!!)

(im just gonna post this and pretend i havent been mia for weeks<3)

Bang Chan: low rise pants

Your boyfriend doesn't know exactly what it is about you in low rise pants that gets to him, but he knows he's always having to drag his eyes away from that little sliver of skin. The fact that one wrong move could have him catching a glimpse of your panties makes him feel like a horny little teenager.

The two of you decided to go out one night, just some fairly private club that you frequented together. He sat in your living room while you placed finishing touches on your outfit for the night.

It had been a while since you went out and you were super excited to wear an outfit that you had been imagining in your head for months, but you just never got the opportunity to wear it.

You slipped the cargo pants up your legs and looked yourself over in the mirror again. You look hot. The corset top you had on accentuated your chest perfectly and was low enough that only the strip of stomach just below your bellybutton is visible. You quickly grab one of your favorite necklaces, a delicate "C" pendant hang just below your collarbone and you smiled at yourself one more time before grabbing your bag and walking to the living room.

Chan glanced up from his phone while you slipped your shoes on and had to do an honest double take. You were slightly bent over and that little sliver of skin that has him wanting to bend you over every surface is exposed right to his lurking eyes.

He stands quickly just as you straighten and approaches you from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. His hands find purchase on the exposed skin, his fingers sliding through your front belt loops and his thumbs rubbing over the warm skin of your hips, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"You drive me crazy, baby," his voice is low and you let out a quiet hum when his lips brush over the back of your neck.

"I didn't do anything, Channie," you smile to yourself when you feel him smile against your skin.

"You know how much I love these pants. You're so pretty," he speaks up again, a shy chuckle following his compliment. You reach your hand back and scratch the back of his head, letting out your own chuckle.

"You compliment me too much," you tease and pull away from your boyfriend's arms to step out the door. He follows you out and his hand quick finds your hip again, holding you possessively close to his body as you make your way to the car.

It doesn't even matter if you have a little happy trail or if you're completely bare on that little spot. He just absolutely adores it. When you wear low rise pants in public, he secretly wishes you had a hickey over your hip so everyone knows that you belong to him. Or, even better in his opinion, a tattoo of his name or initial.

I imagine him being the type to be absolutely obsessed with a tramp stamp if you have one. His fingers always tracing over the lines when he’s looking at it or when he’s drilling into you from behind.

And if you happen to have a whale tail? It's over. You aren't even making it out the house. As soon as he lays eyes on the little string of your thong hanging out the top of your pants, all he wants is to pull them down your legs with his teeth and eat you out for hours.

Lee Know: flare leggings/yoga pants

Flare leggings make everyone's butt look good. It is a known fact around the world. It is also a known fact around the world that your sweet and loving boyfriend loves a good butt.

The first time Minho saw you in some black flare leggings, he didn't think much of it. You had told him earlier that you were going to a yoga class with one of your friends. Of course you would wear something along the lines of yoga pants.

You lean over and give him a quick kiss before you turn to leave and his eyes nearly pop out of his head at the sight. He was already sitting on the couch so he was essentially eye level with your ass, he had no choice but to look.

"Honey..." his voice trails off as soon as you bend over to pick up your bag from the ground, a low and involuntary groan leaving his throat. There's no way you had any underwear on and he so deeply wished he never had that thought because now his pants are significantly tighter than they were a few minutes ago.

"Yes? I need to go. What's wrong, love?" You turn to face him again. His eyes meet yours and he licks his lips before shaking his head.

"Never mind. Have fun!" He continues shaking his head, a smile cracking over his features. You eye him suspiciously before turning and heading to your yoga class.

The second time he sees you in flare leggings, you were meeting him at his house to go get some food with one of his friends and their significant other. You gently knock on the door before he opens it. His eyes immediately dart down and recognize the pants you have on, making him gulp.

You had on a cropped shirt with a cropped knit sweater and those damn black pants. You're smiling at him when his eyes finally meet yours again but his smile had quickly dropped.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" You question, a frown taking over his features as your boyfriend clenches his jaw and shakes his head before stepping to the side to let you in. You wordlessly enter and kick your shoes off.

You sit your bag down at the table and before you even realize he's behind you, you feel a sharp slap on your ass. You jump at the sudden sting and immediately turn around. Minho's eyes only meet yours for a second before a smirk covers his face.

"You want my roommates to see you in these? I think I should burn them," He raises his eyebrows at you and you look down at your outfit, still confused before looking back up at your boyfriend.

"Min, I don't-"

"What? You're going to say you haven't noticed how amazing your ass looks in these pants when you wear them? No need to lie to me, princess. There's no way you haven't noticed," he interrupts you and you feel heat creep up your neck. You look away quickly but his hand grabs your jaw, turning you towards him before pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Mhm. Do I need to cancel our little double date so I can remind you that you're all mine? And I don't like people looking at what's mine, princess. You know that," He taunts and you blink at him a few times before shaking your head at him.

"What? You don't want me to fuck you so brainless that the only thing you remember is my name? That's so unlike you. I bet you don't even have any panties on..." he trails off, his fingertips grazing over your warm cheek before he presses his knee gently between your thighs and applies pressure to where you're pulsing in need because of his filthy words.

"We only have 20 minutes until we have to leave," you breath out and he presses against your core firmer, making a moan leave your mouth and your eyes flutter shut.

"Then you better cum quick, baby," he replies before crashing his lips against yours again.

Changbin: crop tops

Even if you have insecurities about your own belly, Changbin loves it. Whether you're soft or toned, he doesn't care. He loves rubbing his hands up your warm skin under your shirt and feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin at his gentle touch.

When you two started dating, it was quite cold so you didn't wear any crop tops around him. Once the weather finally started warming up, however, you wasted no time in whipping out the cropped shirts.

You two decided to grab brunch at a local cafe before going to the park to have a picnic since the weather had started warming up. Being spring, the air was quite cool in the morning but once you two were settling in for your picnic, the sun began to shine a bit brighter and it quickly became warmer, making you open your jacket, leaving your stomach exposed to the air.

Changbin doesn't even realize you have a crop top on until you stand and throw something away in a nearby trashcan. His eyes quickly drop to your stomach and he has to fight the smile makings it way to his face.

His sweet thoughts don't last long, however. His brain quickly morphs to the thought of the two of you last night when you whined out how he was too deep.

"I'm too deep, baby?" he teases and your eyes water slightly while you nod, placing your hand on your stomach.

"I feel like you're in my guts right now," you whine and he pushes all the way in before stopping, making you whimper.

"I am in your guts right now," he counters, a smirk on his face.

Then his thoughts quickly morph into the ending of the night when he pulled out and came on your stomach. The way your skin looked covered in his cum had him almost getting hard again.

"What are you thinking about, bun?" your sweet voice pries your boyfriend from his daydream and he blinks at you before his eyes dart down to your stomach again. You smile when you see him look. It's no secret he loves your belly.

"Why do you love my belly so much?" you smile, leaning on the table between the two of you. He mimics your position and also leans on his elbows, leaning into you.

"Why do you love mine?" he counters and you look up at the sky, as if the answer would fall from it, before making eye contact with your pretty boyfriend again.

"Touché," you reply and lean forward slightly before pecking his nose gently.

Even when the two of you are laying together, no matter what position you are laying in, his hands are drawing mindless shapes all over your tummy. If you're standing together in a line and you have a crop top on, his arm is either around your waist from the side or behind, his thumb drawing shapes on your warm skin and causing chills in its wake.

If you have a belly button ring, he often finds himself also fiddling with it randomly, like a fidget toy. He also loves buying you little bellybutton jewelry and of course tops that will show it off nicely.

He especially loves if you wear a crop top and he can see faint marks of himself from the night before. What some other people may see as just a small bruise on your side, he knows is the exact outline of his thumb.

He loves seeing the little red streaks on your stomach or crescent marks in your skin from him scratching at you when things get a bit intense for him to control himself.

I also see him as adoring those funny little baby tees with silly sayings on them. Would definitely buy you a baby tee that says "My bf knows how to fight" or one that says something like "Daddy's Princess" as a joke and then get completely flustered and cute and red if you ever actually wear it asdfhkkkg i love him.

Hyunjin: skirt

Okay I don't know exactly what puts this thought in my head but I just imagined Hyunjin liking a tall girl... like I just KNOW he loves a good set of long pretty legs. Honestly even if they’re short, I imagine he just likes long pretty legs.

So when he sees his lover in a skirt, their legs looking extra long and pretty, he loses his mind. He is definitely the type to absolutely worship every square inch of your body, so it is rare that you can actually wear skirts or shorts. Your thighs are usually littered with hickeys and bite marks that he is sure to replace every time they fade.

It’s honestly surprising that there isn’t an indent of his shoulders on the back of your thighs with how much time he spends with his head between your legs. Of course there ends up being evidence that he was down there.

He had been busy the past week and you guys haven’t been able to spend much time together and if you did, it was just a quick lunch during his break or you bringing him some coffee at the company or studio.

So, when your boyfriend texts you and asks if you want to come to dinner later, you practically jump up and down at the offer. When you’re getting dressed, you find a skirt that you had completely forgotten that you had and slipped it up your thighs.

You put on a cute fur cardigan and your black skirt and some comfy heels. You made yourself look extra pretty, although it would just be you, Hyunjin, and one of his hometown friends having dinner.

When Hyunjin arrived at your house to pick you up, you stepped out your door at the same time he was stepping up your stairs and he literally freezes at the sight of you. The heels you have on do something for him all in their own (we’ll save this thought for a pt 2…) and your legs look extra long in the combination.

You turn, a bright smile on your face and walk towards your pretty boyfriend. His hair has started getting longer and falling in his eyes so when you walk towards him, stopping at the step above him, you tuck his hair behind his ears and press a kiss to his forehead. He leans up and you press your lips gently against his.

His arms wrap around the top of your thighs, just under your butt and he gently lifts you, turns, and places you on the sidewalk.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he smiles against your lips and you can’t help but smile back at your cute boyfriend.

“I missed you,” you reply and he pulls back to look at your face before pressing a kiss to your temple and humming in agreement.

The entire ride to the restaurant, Hyunjin’s hand never leaves your thigh. His fingers subconsciously toy with the hem of your skirt while he tells you about his past few days and tries to catch you up on all the tea.

He doesn’t even notice your physical reaction to his hand accidentally drifting a bit higher as your skirt rides up, due to your wiggling around in your seat. He parks the car and unbuckles his seatbelt before turning his body towards you and placing both his hands on your thighs, the tips of his fingers sliding under your skirt.

He presses his lips to yours again and squeezes your thighs, making you gasp slightly into his mouth. He pulls back and looks at his hands on your thighs before settling back in his seat and getting out the car, quickly circling to open the door for you.

He holds your hand and helps you out of the car before closing the door behind you. He presses his lips to your knuckles quickly before dropping your hand and wrapping his around around your waist, settling on your hip instead.

“I’m so lucky,” he suddenly whispers and you blush. This is something you two often say to each other, both feeling equally as lucky to have each other.

He also loves skirts because of their…easy access. He is definitely the needy type that will just flip your skirt up and pull your panties to the side before fucking the daylights out of you. Whether it’s in the restroom of a restaurant or up against your front door when you’ve barely stepped inside, he likes the thought of being able to get to your pussy whenever he wants.

He loves to lay you back on the bed and eat you out with the skirt pushed up over your belly or laying over his head. He has no problems teasing you and lightly brushing his fingers against your panties at any chance he gets.

He just loves you and your pretty legs and wants to show you!

Han: thigh high socks

Han Jisung! Another one who is a sucker for pretty legs. He thinks that pretty things should be decorated, this includes your thighs.

He didn’t realize that seeing you in thigh high socks would get him going until Halloween came around. You two decided on matching costumes one night and you opted for a corny, overdone option, a sexy nurse and doctor. It was easy enough and the pictures would be cute so you both decided to do it.

Your sexy nurse costumes was complete with a pair of white fishnet thigh highs with red bows on the front of either thigh. Jisung was sat on your bed on his phone when you pulled the socks on and made your way over to your mirror. You pulled on some shoes then went to your vanity to top off your look with the perfect red lipstick.

When you leaned into the mirror, you knocked over some makeup which catches your boyfriend’s attention and he looks up from his phone at you. His view is you from the back, bent into your vanity and those thigh high socks hugging the plush of your thighs perfectly.

His throat ran dry and he gulps deeply before he catches your gaze in the mirror, already looking at him as you rub your lips together.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease and he lets out a soft chuckle before grabbing his phone and snapping a picture of you.

“Hey!” You sit up straight and turn to face him, your hands on your hips, “I was joking!” you smile and make your way towards him. When you place a knee on the bed, his eyes drop back down to the lace hugging the top of your legs.

“Mm. I need to update my jacking off material. You looked a little too good bent over the desk with these on,” he grazes his fingers over the bows of your socks then around the lace then over the fishnets. You pull your other leg up on the bed, careful to leave your shoes off the comforter and place your hands around his neck.

“Oh? You like them Dr, Han?” You tease and he lets out another chuckle, looking up at your face again. That damn lipstick wasn’t making it any easier to not want to fuck you right now and forget about the whole Halloween party.

“I like everything you wear. You could come out in a parka or a burlap sack and I would still get hard,” he confesses and turns his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“What do you like about them?” You ask, innocence lacing your tone, driving him even crazier.

“I’m thinking about how this material would feel on my cock. Especially when you start begging me to stop fucking your thighs and fuck you instead,” he places another kiss, slightly higher up your forearm, “I’m thinking about how this fishnet would feel on either side of my head,” another kiss against the inside of your elbow, then another kiss on your bicep before pulling back to look up at you.

Despite you instigating him originally, you feel yourself turn beet red at his words. He has a dirty, correction: filthy, mouth and he knows exactly how to use it to get you going (in more ways than one).

Jisung loves the way your thighs spill out the top of thigh highs when you sit down. The material barely containing your soft flesh and he just want to bite down on the skin.

If you ever have them on when you two start getting hot and heavy, the socks stay on (bc ur not gay). He rubs himself against the material, sometimes able to cum even if you aren’t there with the help of the sock.

Sometimes, when he’s extra needy, he’ll grab the sock from your hamper or drawer and wrap it around his cock before jacking off. He always feels like a creep afterwards but its the best way he has found to get release when he’s super pent up.

He tries to keep it a secret and you don’t have the heart to tell your cute little perv of a boyfriend that you know. Until, he is going away for a while on tour and opens his suit case to a pair of his favorite thigh highs, the ones from halloween, and a note in your handwriting.

Enjoy, my baby. Send me videos<3

Felix: lace

Okay let me explain. I imagine Felix just being an absolute horny little guy who also enjoys the classics. He LOVES a good set of lingerie. Which slowly turned to him just loving lace. When he sees you in a lace, corset top it doesn’t take much for his imagination to run wild.

Then when you had the audacity to show up to a party with a lace top and leather pants, he thought he was going to have an actual aneurysm. The combination of the leather and lace had him imagining he had just walked into his dream porno, you as the star.

The top was corset style and looked a little too similar to lingerie. When he asked you where you got it from and you leaned into him to whisper that you had ordered it online from a sex shop, he thoughts he was going to cum on the spot.

He could barely keep his hands off of you all night. It only worsened when you had returned to his side after a bout of dancing with some of your friends. His eyes followed a single drop of sweat that rolled down your neck and disappeared down the valley of your breasts and behind your lace shirt. That you ordered…from a sex shop.

When you two had gone shopping and you insisted he come into the dressing room with you, he didn’t think anything of it. You two usually did join each other in fitting rooms and bathrooms visits, call it separation anxiety.

You pulled your shirt over your head and Felix immediately cussed under his breath, making your brow drop to a frown as you threw your shirt to his lap.

“What?” you question and grab the new shirt, pulling it down and turning in the mirror a few times before Felix finally replies to you.

“You’re so fucking hot. Do you realize that? It’s taking everything in my power to not ask you to ride me right here, right now,” he suddenly says and you freeze before slowly turning to face him.

“Oh?” You question, a teasing smirk on your lips as you pull the shirt over your head again and his eyes drop to the black lace bralette again. It doesn’t have much liner and it isn’t helping that he can see your nipples through the bra too. Now that he knew what was under your hoodie, he wouldn’t be able to focus for the rest of your day together.

“Yeah. You know how I get when I see you in lace like this,” his voice is low, cautious that nobody outside the fitting room can hear your conversation. You walk towards him and place both hands on his shoulders.

He immediately leans forward and pops the bra against your skin with his teeth. There’s a light knock on the door and you pull away to continue trying on your clothes.

“Oops. Lets save this for when we get home, mister,” you tease and wink at him before pulling down your shorts, your panties match your bra and he groans again, making you smirk to yourself.

What finally sends him over the edge is when his phone vibrates beside him while he’s on a water break. It’s like you can sense when he’s on break and you always text him at the perfect time.

Sunshine: what do ya think? (: <link>

Felix’s jaw might as well have unhinged with how far it fell. The link took him to a site with a baby blue lingerie set. It was all lace with a few flowers strategically embroidered. He had to take a deep breath and stare at the picture for a while, trying his best to not get hard.

Sunshine: left on read? no likey?

The notification pops up at the tops of his screen and he realizes that he hasn’t replied to you after practically instantly reading your message.

Lixieee: i dont like. i love. i’m hard now. thanks<3

You simply loved the message and placed the order, excited for your new set to come in.

Seungmin: spandex shorts/biker shorts

It isn’t anything crazy and Seungmin swears he isn’t a perv. He just knows his baby is hot and knows what you have the capability of doing to him. He’s just a little obsessed with you.

You two were still best friends when he realized he had a thing for you in these tight little shorts. You had came to his house to just hangout. You weren’t looking too special, opting for some biker shorts and a hoodie and pulling your hair up into a messy updo.

He opens the door and you immediately hold your hand out to him, handing him the coffee you had picked up for him on the way.

“Hey, cutie,” you tease and step into his house before sliding your sneakers off and heading towards the living room. With your back turned, he got the opportunity to sneak a peak at your ass.

The biker shorts you had on left practically nothing to the imagination and he actually thinks he felt his heart stop when you bent over and he could make out the shape of your most private area through the shorts.

Okay maybe he was a perv.

“I like those shorts,” he comments and steps into the room before settling on the couch. You quickly plop down next to him.

“These shorts are a hit,” you comment nonchalantly and he looks over at you, waiting for you to elaborate. You chuckle and take a sip of your coffee.

“I wore these to the gym the other day with when I hit legs with Binnie and he said the same thing,” you reply and Seungmin feels himself clench his jaw at the thought of someone else looking at you the same way he had just been.

And you hit legs with him? Does that mean that he saw you squatting in these tight little shorts. Does that mean that he also saw you bending over the same way he just had? Had Changbin also made out the shape of your sweet cunt the same way he had? He turns away from you again to face the front.

You grab his arm and push it up to the back of the couch, scooting close to him and laying your legs over his thigh that was closest to you.

“What? Jealous?” you tease and Seungmin chuckles humorlessly at the accusation.

“Extremely.” He deadpans and glances over at you, your smile dropping at his confession.

“W-Why is that?” He threw you off with actually confessing to being jealous. You were used to him just teasing you back and you two bickering endlessly but never this.

“Because he got to see what’s mine,” he replies and shrugs and you open your mouth to reply but can’t think of the right words to say as a blush creeps up your neck at his words.

You definitely lose any sense of words when his hand drops to your bare thigh and starts kneading at the flesh. His hand creeps a little closer to your core and your legs fall apart slightly, granting him access. He lets out a laugh at how pliable you’re being and leans forward, setting his coffee on the table in front of you.

“No objections to that statement?” he raises his eyebrows at you and you snap your mouth closed before shaking your head.

“You can’t use your words, pup?” The nickname wasn’t anything new from him but the way his hand was rubbing your upper thigh and the way he is slowly leaning into you had your heart racing even more.

“Kiss me,” you command instead and he complies, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

I.N: his clothes

Maybe it’s his possessive side but when Jeongin sees you in his clothes, his brain goes haywire. Sometimes he thinks you look so cute, especially if the clothes are swallowing you up. But sometimes, it makes him want to kiss you until you can’t breathe.

The first time you wore his clothes, it was completely unintentional. You two had just started dating and hadn’t taken many big steps in your relationship. So it was much to your, and Jeongin’s, surprise when you drunkenly called him while out with your friends.

You were practically begging him to come pick you up because you missed him and he couldn’t help but comply. He pulled up to the bar and you quickly made your way outside and sat down in his warm car. You smelled like straight liquor and vomit and Jeongin’s nose scrunched at the smell before he looked over at you.

“I didn’t throw up. I swear. Some stranger threw up on me and my friends didn’t want to leave yet. Can we go back to your house? I don’t have my keys…” you caught yourself about to ramble and trailed off but Jeongin just giggled at you.

“Of course,” he replies and put the car in drive before making his way to his house. Once you got there you asked if you could take a shower and borrow some clothes and he readily agreed. He sat out some shorts and a t shirt on the sink while you were in the shower and stepped back out to wait on you.

When you entered his room, he had to do everything in his power to not get hard. He had given you one of his comfiest t shirts, which also meant it was huge and it literally went almost down to your elbows.

“Come on, drunky,” he teases and lifts the blanket next to him. You blush and crawl into the bed next to him. He hands you a bottle of water and you take a few sips before handing it back to him and settling into his side.

“I’m sorry. Is this weird for you? If it is, I can go home. I know you want to take things slow but I don’t know how you feel about-”

“Y/n. Sweetheart,” he interrupts you and you snap your mouth shut, waiting for him to continue. He grabs under your chin and leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes his toothpaste on your lips and for some reason, that also gets him going. The thought that if anyone else were to taste your lips, that they would taste like him.

“You look so pretty in my clothes,” he pulls away to say against your lips and you chuckle before leaning in to kiss him once more.

The way that you two got caught in your relationship was actually because of a tiny little detail. It stemmed from the two of you sharing clothes.

He had gotten a custom bracelet made for himself that was literally one of a kind in the world. You had gotten dressed up to go out and forgotten to put on a bracelet at your house so you asked your boyfriend if he could bring you one to make your outfit better. He agreed of course and later when you posted pictures on social media (pc: innie), you had the bracelet on. Stay was quick to zoom in and notice that it was the same custom bracelet that Jeongin usually wore.

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ashtavula · 3 months

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Hihihi! Could I please request a royalty/nobility au with the housewardens? Like them as a dashing Mr. Darcy, if that makes sense.

So, since this is pretty open ended, I'm just going with headcanons on what sort of role they'd have in this au. Though it might be more like an otome au? But if you like it, or want to see more, please don't hesitate to ask!

Royalty AU - The Housewardens

You are the only heir to the throne, and now, you've been given a "simple" task. Find someone to marry before the year is over! Your butler clears his throat, and names some of your potential suitors...

Riddle - The Marquess' Son

-Riddle is the sole child of Marquess and Marchioness Rosehearts. His family is well known for funding medical research, and they're generally well respected. At least, publicly. In private, many nobles whisper about the cruelty of Marchioness Rosehearts, and Riddle's overbearing strictness. Your butler also states that, when your parents announced your eligibility for marriage, she was the very first to put her son's name forward. It makes you think that Riddle had no say in being a candidate.

-Riddle himself is rumored to be at odds with his family, considering his friendship with the local baker, Trey Clover, and other commoners. His mother has publicly denounced the idea that her family mingles with the lower classes, but Riddle continues to be spotted around the bakery regardless. It makes you wonder if he's not quite as strict as the rumors claim...

Leona - The Second Prince

-Leona is the second born prince of a neighboring country. His brother, King Falena, has maintained his country's status quo, but it's becoming rather obvious that Leona doesn't approve of his family's excessive lifestyle while their kingdom's poorest starve. Supposedly, Falena is growing increasingly desperate to marry Leona off to a foreigner so he can be removed from Sunset Savannah's political sphere. Leona's own people talk about him being a lazy, power hungry rebel, and this gives you pause. You haven't heard a single positive thing yet. There must be more to the man than this...

-Your butler goes on to mention that this is merely what your country's spies have found out. According to official correspondence, Leona is a laid back man with a handsome appearance, and a sharp intellect. The sheer difference in those descriptions startles you, and makes you wonder. Who exactly is Prince Leona?

Azul - The Information Broker

-Azul Ashengrotto is the head of the country's biggest information guild. Hiring his Octavinelle Agency is the best way to dig up dirt on anybody, and no one knows just how he acquires that much intelligence. Your parents have listed him as a potential candidate in the hopes that, should you marry him, he would give you access to the wealth of information he has at his fingertips. According to rumors, you must give him something of equal exchange for anything he tells you. You frown as you hear about people selling things like their voices, and their magic to him. He can't be that cruel. Right?

-According to people who have made deals with him, he has a taste for the finer things in life. He'd certainly jump at the opportunity to court you, as you are the heir to the throne. Before your butler can finish, a strange man enters the room. His mismatched eyes gleam as he hands you a letter, stamped with the Octavinelle Agency insignia. The letter is simple, but it sends a chill up your spine. "Your Highness, if you are considering marriage, then please come by my agency. I can tell you anything you wish to know about your suitors, and I'll even waive my usual fees. The only thing I ask in return is for your company. Signed, Azul Ashengrotto." Before you can question the man, he slips out of the parlor. How peculiar...

Kalim - The Merchant Prince

-Your butler clears his throat, and moves on. Next on the list is Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the Al-Asim Trade Company. Merchants under their banner travel far and wide, bringing wondrous things that many people have never seen before. In his country, rich merchants practically become royalty, and Kalim's family is the wealthiest of those families. If you choose him, it will invigorate your country's economy, and your parents approve of this. Also, according to the people who have seen him, he's cheerful and compassionate.

-However, your butler warns that his family has a dark side. In the Scalding Sands, poison is the weapon of choice, and Kalim's life has likely been threatened numerous times. And that his own siblings and cousins are likely his biggest enemies. If you married him, you'd be subjected to the same treatment. You'd constantly have to watch your back, and worry that every sip of wine would be your last. Is that truly a life you wish to lead?

Vil - The Duke

-Vil Schoenheit is the youngest Duke to grace your country's nobility. He's also the fairest. Countless numbers of men and women fawn over his beauty, yet he has rejected every advance that has come his way. This had led to nasty rumors that he has impossible standards, and that his heart must be made of ice. He apparently also has a keen mind, though there are some whispers that he uses that intellect to brew deadly poisons. Who those poisons are meant for, nobody knows.

-His dukedom also contains some of your country's most beautiful locations. Lush forests and thriving apple orchards span his lands, and his people prosper under his rule. However, people do wonder why all of his citizens seem to be good looking, and why nobody seems to oppose him. Is it just a coincidence, or is there a darker reason behind his seemingly perfect dukedom?

Idia - The Inventor

-Idia Shroud is, without a doubt, one of the smartest men in your kingdom. However, his reputation, and several rumors, precede him. He's known for being extremely reclusive, and he's almost never been seen in public. Instead, he trusts an automaton, Ortho, to complete various tasks. And the few times he has been spotted sparked a frenzy of strange rumors. There's talk around the capital that he's been cursed, marked by unholy fire. Your brows furrow. Is he truly one of the candidates for your hand in marriage?

-Aside from the rumors that swirl around him, he's genuinely skilled. Ortho is a completely sentient automaton, and several of his other inventions have changed the average citizen's quality of life for the better. He's the reason your kingdom is more advanced than any other, and that counts for a lot. He's a bit bizarre, but rumors about his supposed "curse" stirs your curiosity.

Malleus - The Briar King

-Your butler shivers, and mentions King Malleus in a hushed tone. He is the King of Briar Valley, a strange land that nobody has ever actually seen. There are old tales about his kingdom. Stories that state that the land is populated by the fae, and that their king is not truly a fae, but a fearsome dragon. These tales claim that any being who opposes the Briar King will be incinerated in a plume of dragon fire, and that he demands complete loyalty from his subjects. As you begin to wonder why your parents would give you such an option, you get your answer. For the first time, Malleus has left his kingdom, and is visiting yours. This might be your kingdom's only chance to forge an alliance with the powerful, mysterious fae.

-There is a bit more information than just wild tales. According to your butler, an odd fae visited the castle yesterday, and told your parents a bit more about Malleus. This fae stated that his king was not quite as intimidating as the stories claim, and that Malleus yearned for companionship more than anything else. Your gaze softened. You, as the heir to a kingdom, knew that a royal life could be a lonely one. If he also felt the ache of solitude, then, he surely couldn't be a monster, like the people say.

Now that you've heard about your potential suitors, only one question remains...

Who will you choose?

#royalty au #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twst x reader

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flemingsfreckles · 2 months

Text

Be a Good Teammate

Jessie Fleming x USWNT!Reader

Words: 3.4k

Preview: After Jessie misses her penalty in the Gold Cup semi final, she’s found practicing kicks by her old friend and college teammate.

Warnings: some cursing, a little angst, but nothing else too crazy.

A/N: I haven’t written anything in maybe 4-5 years. Recently fallen back into reading and then watching the Canada/US game sparked some inspiration and here we are writing again.

You could hear her before you saw her. You had come out of the dressing room well after the rest of your teammates. They hardly showered just throwing on fresh clothes in a rush to begin their celebration for moving on to the finals of the Gold Cup. The stadium had fallen silent with the exception of a faint noise coming from the far end of the tunnel toward the pitch.

It was the repetitive sound of a ball being kicked followed shortly by the swish of the net. One after the next, boot on ball, swish of the net, boot on ball swish of the net. Working like a clock, a perfect machine, that was until the sound of the net was replaced by the ringing of the crossbar and the frustration of the kicker.

“Stupid fucking penalty” a frustrated voice rang out. The sound of the voice halted your steps, you knew that voice. Jessie. You quickly recognize the voice as your former best friend and UCLA teammate. Once you hear her, you quickly realized what was happening.

You’d seen her do this when you played together, anything from missed headers, missed passes, missed shots, and now with missed penalties. Jessie was known for being a hard worker, her focus and determination was admirable by her teammates and led her to earning the right to wear the captain's armband. She pushed herself to be better and while it was that mentality that turned her into one of Canada’s best, it also came with a whole other side.

She was hard on herself, more so than anyone else, and she took it to extremes. You had watched in college as she would spend hours watching film of her mistakes, tearing her performances apart, nitpicking every step she took. Criticizing every mistake to the point of obsession. One bad touch or one missed scoring opportunity would cloud her brain, unable to focus on anything else until she could fix that mistake, that mistake was all that would matter to Jessie.

“Be a good teammate to yourself Jessie.” Those were the words you told her constantly in college when you’d find her overworking herself. Running extra laps after an already grueling practice. Taking extra shots after a game, refusing to stop the repetitions until they were in her eyes, perfect. “Treat yourself how you treat all your other teammates, you support us, you provide positive corrections, you're kind. Talk to yourself the same way you talk with me or anyone else on this team, be a good teammate to yourself.”

And that’s how you knew exactly what Jessie was doing out on that field. She was retaking her penalty from earlier in the game, the one she had kicked into the arms of your team’s goalkeeper, letting the young and your teammates erupt in celebration behind her as she walked with her head down to her team’s bench.

Now you are stuck with your brain telling you to let her be, she’s not going to want to see you, especially on a night like tonight. Just go celebrate with your teammates, you thought.

You and Jessie had been close in college, so close most of your teammates were convinced you two were secretly dating. And to be fair to them, you wish you’d made a move on Jessie but you didn’t. Too worried about losing your friend and still trying to figure out yourself in the process. Now your college days were years behind you and you both moved away after graduation to play professionally, her with Chelsea and now in Portland and you with Bayren Munich and more recently with Seattle.

Your communication with your former best friend had rapidly declined over the years, you both got caught up in your new lives, new clubs, and Jessie had gotten a girlfriend. It wasn’t public information at the time but you were close enough that she shared the news, gushing about the girl over one of your nightly phone call. You knew deep down that girl is what pushed you away. Even though you knew it was never going to work out between you and Jessie, it didn’t make hearing about her new girl any less painful.

So you pulled back, with going from long facetime calls, to short catch ups, to texts. It seemed mutual as Jessie followed suit reaching out less frequently. She figured you were busy and had forgotten about her, seeing you make new friends in your new teams. These days you were lucky if you saw a “nice game” “congrats on the win” or even “happy birthday” come across your phone from the Canadian.

No bad blood stood between you two that she was aware of, except for maybe right now as you stood wearing the crest of the team that had just ended her tournament hopes.

While your brain was telling you to head for the parking lot and leave, forgetting you heard her taking the shots, your heart refused to let your feet move in any direction but toward the pitch. As you turned the corner she came into view. The bright white 17 with FLEMING printed neatly across the back of her red jersey became visible as you watched her set up her next round of shots.

Now you were frozen again, standing just inside the edge of the pitch, only your eyes moving, watching as she placed a ball, moved backward, took a deep breath and took the shot. It sailed into the upper left of the net. You watched as Jessie once again stepped back to ready herself, having already placed the next ball while you were watching her first one go in the net. Again she took a breath and fired into the net. She continued just as you had heard her before, booting the ball into the net. Over and over and over.

The stadium that had previously been filled with fans shouting, coaches calling out, music, liveliness was now eerily silent, just the sound of Jessie methodical work taking place. You weren’t even sure how long you had been standing there watching her, you’d maybe seen her take 10 or 12 shots, all screaming into the back of the net. The systematic movement and sound had lulled you into zoning out, only snapped back into reality when you realized the noise had stopped.

Jessie was moving toward the goal, collecting all the balls she had kicked, only now you could hear her mumbling to herself. Unable to make out what she was saying, you watched as she continued moving all the balls back to start her drill once again. She had turned around, her face more visible to you, eyes still down looking at the balls she was kicking. You could see her cheeks were still bright red and her skin was shiny with sweat, or maybe it was rain. Her mumbling had turned into her regular voice, allowing you to make out every couple of words.

“idiot…if I just made it… don’t deserve this…” You watched her rip the captain's armband from her bicep, throwing it aside.

You felt your chest grow tight, seeing and hearing Jessie so angry at herself was painful. She was the kindest soul, she had been your first friend at school and one of the only ones who stuck around through all 4 years. the only thing she didn’t deserve is to feel this way about her performance.

Maybe i should leave, you thought, let her work through this, she’ll be okay with some time, how much can you really help at this point, it’s over, there’s no point in making her more upset and,

“FUCK” Jessie’s voice intrudes into your thoughts as she punts the last ball with such anger that instead of landing just outside the box like the rest, she sends it sailing, landing only a couple of feet from you. You look at the ball rolling toward your feet, being slowed greatly by the wet grass.

“Sorry,” Jessie hollers with a wave and a different, more polite tone in her voice. She begins jogging over to you, “I didn’t realize they were coming to do pitch maintenance already, I’ll pack up and go-“ she starts to ramble as you realize she hasn’t noticed that it’s you who is standing in front of her.

You move your eyes down at the grass, kicking some up unsure of what to do now while you wait for her to reach you and realize you’re in fact not the maintenance crew.

“What are you doing here?” Her accusatory tone returns and you look up to meet her eyes. Just as you’d seen from across the field her cheeks remained bright red, a layer of sweat making her whole face shine. Her lips are slightly parted and her breathing is quick. Her brown eyes that you used to stare at everyday are now puffy, as though she shed some tears following the game and you can’t help but stare for a second at her black eye. She cocks her head at you and you realize she’s waiting for an answer.

“Um, I just… I heard you. And I just wanted to check on you,” you realize you should’ve spent some of the time you were watching her kick thinking of what to say to her.

“I don’t need your pity party,” Jessie scoffs at you “don’t you have some celebrating to do?”

“I’m not here to pity you,” her change in tone makes you get defensive.

“Then what? You’re here to tell me it’s okay? That it’s fine it’s just a penalty, and maybe it feels that way to you,” she stabs her index finger into your chest, her touch surprises you. Both being midfielders you had contact during the game but that was different.

Before you were just the opponent in the same way she was yours, you were aware of her but in that moment she was just Jessie Fleming, a Canada’s midfielder who you needed to get the ball from. Now she was Jess, the girl you were roommates with, the girl whose shoulder you fell asleep on during a long travel day, the girl who you tutored in calculus while she in return tutored you in physics. Her whole face now just inches from yours. You share a similar height with the midfielder, leaving you eye to eye. You can feel her breath as she continues.

“You made your penalty, and you don’t have to wear the armband, you don’t have to sit with the expectation of never missing a penalty, but I do. And you didn’t let your whole team down, I did. So maybe it seems like not a big deal to you because you’re not the one going home!”

You feel like sinking into one of the puddles on the grass, this was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have bothered her. Before you can think of something to say Jessie starts again.

“Nothing? You have nothing to say to me? Then again, why did you come out here? To gloat? Because last time I checked, we’re not even friends anymore and that’s no fault of mine, that was all you, you ignored me, so why even bother? Just leave me alone, go away.”

Her words telling you that she doesn’t even consider you a friend anymore, sting. Sure it was nowhere near like it was before but you still would classify Jessie as a friend. You have every urge to tell her the truth, that you couldn’t stand seeing her with someone else and to protect yourself you took a step back. You wanted to tell her you never meant for it to silence your relationship, you just wanted to respect hers and that meant distancing yourself. Instead, you opted with the easy way out, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” her brown eyes roll as she turns away from you.

“Jess, wait,” the short form of her name falling out of your mouth on accident. Hoping she’ll stay, you reach out grabbing her wrist preventing her from turning all the way away from you.

“I promise I didn’t come here to give you pity, honestly I’m not sure what I’m doing here.” You feel her shake your grasp from her wrist but instead of leaving she turns back facing you. “I just, I heard you and, I,” You try looking into her eyes but she’s staring at her hands that are fidgeting with the hem of her jersey.

“You already said that.” Jessie cuts you off

“I know, I know, I just,” you bring your hands up to cover your eyes rubbing your fingers along your forehead, hoping you’ll be able to squeeze the right words out of your brain. “I think I wanted to see you.” You admit finally, hoping it’s not too much at the moment.

“We just played 120 minutes against each other, you had plenty of chances to see me.” She throws back at you, her brown eyes still avoiding yours.

You begin to feel a tightness in your throat, a feeling all too familiar to you, making it harder to breathe, you start blinking away the tears that are trying to surface. You’re grateful she isn’t looking at your face. you recognize the same emotions that you felt when she had told you she was in a relationship.

Jessie had been so excited to tell you, and you tried your best to act excited for her, you really did. You had forced yourself to ask questions you really didn’t want to know the answers to. Asking about their first date, first kiss, other firsts, what Jessie liked about her, providing the typical best friend interrogation. What Jessie didn’t know was when she had hung up the phone, telling you she had to go as she was going to spend the night at her girlfriend’s, the tightness had taken over and you burst into tears.

In the moment it didn’t make sense to you, you summed it up to missing her and missing spending time with her. It took a couple months to realize your feelings were ones of jealousy. You wanted to be the girl she spent her nights with. You wanted Jessie to call up Janine and gush about you, not some other girl. And that’s when you started to pull away.

“That’s not the same, I, I just wanted to see you,” you let out a shaky breath, trying to relax before tears spill over, “I miss you.” The words come out as a whisper, almost quiet enough that you hope Jessie didn’t hear and you can move on.

A silence falls between the two of you, Jessie’s fingers are still playing with the hem of her shirt, her eyes glued to them. You look up, staring at what would be a starry night had it not been for the rain clouds covering the sky. It feels like time stops, neither of you moving, no one says anything. You stand there, looking up, while Jessie stands, looking down.

“Why now?” Jessie’s voice cracks, you can’t tell for a second if she’s looking for an answer but she continues on, “You could’ve called, or at least texted.”

“It takes you 3 to 5 business days to respond to a text.” A small laugh comes out as you say the sentence, hoping it’ll lighten the mood.

“I know, but for you,” she pauses slightly, “I would’ve answered in a heartbeat.”

Her words catch you off guard and you swing your head down. You unexpectedly meet Jessie's eyes. She’s got one hand running through her damp hair, the other resting by her side. Her stare feels intense, being under her watch gives you a feeling that sits somewhere between comfort and cowardice.

You’re lost for words, racking your brain for the right thing to say. Part of you says fuck it, tell her you love her, that you want her in every way, tell her you were jealous, you couldn’t stand seeing her with another girl, you want her to be yours and only yours.

The other and far more logical part of you says push it down, you don’t want to scare her off, you want your friend back, even if it means hearing about her girlfriend.

You’re saved from having to make a choice between the angel and devil that split your brain as your phone buzzed and a slew of texts from Lynn and Midge came in. You quickly grab your phone from your sweatpant pocket, turning the ringer off to silence the tone from going off again. You quickly skim the texts which consist of variations of ‘where are you’. You catch the time at the top of your screen realizing the game had ended nearly 2 hours ago. Sure, you had done some media, showered, and changed, but you hadn’t realized how late it was and just how long you had been standing around either watching or talking with Jessie.

“You should probably join them.” Jessie says, almost as if she could see your texts from your teammates asking when you were going to be at the bar.

“Yeah I probably should, I didn’t realize the time. The last thing I need is them sending a search party and finding me with the enemy.” You nudge her with your elbow. She gives you a quick tight lipped smile.

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you around?” You add in a raise in your voice in hopes she takes that as an invitation.

“I don’t know,” Jessie pauses, eyebrows creasing as she thinks of what to say next. “It’s just, I’m dealing with a lot right now, moving, captain responsibilities, some personal things. I just don’t know if I can add another thing on my plate right now. Maybe give me some time?” Her response isn’t the one you wanted, but you realize it’s better than a complete shutdown on her end. At least some small part of her was open to letting you back in.

“Of course, I understand the moving countries part, I mean. The rest of your stuff I don’t know about, I mean the personal stuff, and then the captain part.” You find yourself rambling at her. “But yeah that’s fine. I’ll be going.” You point your thumb in the direction of the tunnel.

She turns away, this time you let her walk away. You watch her for a moment before turning yourself and heading back to the tunnel toward your car. Just when you reach the start of the tunnel you hear it again. The sound of Jessie’s boot kicking the ball and the sound of the ball hitting the net. You turn around watching as she grabs another ball between her hands, rolls it around and then bends down to place it.

“Hey Fleming,” you call to her as she releases the ball on the ground and starts to map out her steps. You watch as she turns back over her shoulder locking eyes with you, raising her eyebrows nonverbally acknowledging your call, “Be a good teammate to yourself.”

You carry on to the parking lot, picking up your phone and calling Lynn to let her know you were leaving the stadium now. While you were too distracted on the phone, what you didn’t realize was the absence of the sound of Jessie kicking the ball.

Your words had caught her off guard, she hadn’t heard it in a few years, you last said it to her after she had a rough game at Chelsea. The simple phrase brought back feelings surrounding you that she had pushed down for a while now. She stood, staring at the ball she had just placed, taking a deep breath like she did before every penalty. Only this time, instead of stepping toward the ball with force, she simple walked toward it, picked it up and headed to grab the bag and clean up. She realized she had punished herself enough, the loss still hurt, but with your words and the smile on your face as you said it fresh in her mind, it hurt a little less.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #canwnt #portland thorns #canxnt #woso x reader #woso imagine

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cherryjuiceblues · 9 months

Text

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟐

➯ HARRY IS A LITTLE OBSESSED WITH Y/N AND Y/N JUST WANTS TO KNOW WHEN HE’LL HAVE SEX WITH HER AGAIN. ✰ dom!harry sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 14k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

Harry doesn’t love his job.

He doesn’t hate it either. But he certainly doesn’t love what he does.

It’s not the hardest of occupations; since becoming CEO (and after getting over the guilt of surpassing his colleagues in status), having the option of assigning others to complete otherwise arduous tasks for him has eased some of his tension.

However—inevitably—those smoothed over stress bumps are quickly replaced by bigger, more stubborn protrusions that take more than a gentle palm to flatten out.

But Harry is comfortable—he’s financially secure, surrounded by a loving family and loyal friends, and treated with respect, revered even, by some. So despite being true, what Harry had told Y/N—that You think I was wishing to own a finance company when I was a little boy? indicating that it has hardly been a dream come true—he is grateful for his position in life. Aware of his privilege but also immensely proud of how much his hard work had paid off.

However right now, as he sits behind his desk with his phone burning a hole in his pocket, Harry hates his job.

Hates the schedule that’s pulled up on his monitor, hates the squeak of his chair as he rolls over to the filing cabinet, hates the way the clock is ticking louder than he’s ever heard it before. And the seconds are taking twice as long as they should.

With each passing minute, the presence of his phone in his trouser pocket becomes heavier and heavier; its lack of buzzing and dinging feeling abnormally disheartening. And everytime his work phone—that’s lying face up on his desk—lights up with an email or a phone call and creates its shrill cacophony that pushes the line of Harry’s brow deeper and deeper into his already default frown, he becomes less and less of the easy-going boss he presents to everyone.

It’s enough to drive anyone mad; this torturous waiting. Harry feels as though he’s being dangled over the edge of a cliff but never dropped, never given the sweet release of death which he would gladly take over the pain of not knowing when he was going to fall.

One week. It had been one week since Harry first met Y/N. One week since they’d had maybe the best first experience he’d ever had with someone, and one week since he’d heard a single thing from her. And the memory of that night is enough to have Harry distracted. Enough to have him on the edge of his seat.

ㅤㅤ

“Please.” She whines—to Harry’s teasingly obvious question.

“More what?” He wants to ask. Wants to make her spell it out for him.

But he doesn’t. He’s nice.

Nice as he stretches her open with his fingers—intrusion more than easy with the copious amount of slick between her thighs—whilst his tongue plays with her masterfully. She pants and whines, bucks and wiggles. Loses the ability to say coherent words without stuttering over them.

He takes his time—relishing in the fierce, squeezing heat around his fingers—in the way her excitement makes his palm shine the longer he goes at it.

And he’s thorough in the treatment he gives her. Behaves as if he’s a professional that’s been paid to change her life. He imagines Niall as his agent who had come to him earlier in the day with a ‘great opportunity’ and demanded Harry give his absolute best.

Pretends that his entire career rides on Y/N’s enjoyment of this night.

Harry thinks, really, that Y/N’s lack of experience means he could do a subpar job in actuality—but the thought just makes him go harder. Makes every flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers feel like the best thing she’s ever known.

She’s soaking into his skin and it’s filthy; the way Harry’s throat rumbles out a groan at the thought of his stubble bathing in her—the resentment he’ll have in washing his face later.

Little does he know that Y/N is thinking the same thing—or rather, imagining the irritation of her thighs his facial hair will leave behind. The soreness that can only come from pure satiation, that she’s sure she’ll admire with great joy. Her first marks, her first memory-jolting piece of evidence of the night she was finally touched. The day she’s been waiting for—for far too long, in her opinion.

Especially now, as it’s happening, and Y/N doesn't know if she’ll ever be able to stop chasing this feeling. Her limbs fight between stretching out in tight, desperate attempts to grasp for her orgasm—and melting into the mattress in a mangled mess of flesh and bone. Harry’s mouth struggles to compete with the smile that overtakes his expression, watching Y/N’s body writhe in response to his ministrations.

This is his favourite thing to do.

She tightens, and squeaks, and drips—Harry’s fingers working her just right and tongue curling in fast, pointed flitters—as she propels further towards the edge. Close, so close; lips moulding around a string of garbled sounds and hips pushing up into the large span of his hand. She’s trying to beg but she doesn’t get the chance because Harry is feeling her spasm in contracting waves and she’s slicking down his fingers, crying out—

ㅤㅤ

Harry’s debauched daydream fizzles away when his work phone chimes insolently. The screen lights up, forcing his eyes towards it.

A reminder.

Team meeting | in 15m

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair as the leather stretches. His trousers are tighter than he would consider comfortable, but he’s safe—no recognisable evidence of unprofessional thoughts in his professional environment.

Harry considers himself to be a focused man—often finds solace in working to provide distraction—but this constant replay that has been leading his mind astray whenever he even attempts to shift his concentration is proving to be a hurdle too high for Harry to jump over. He thinks if he makes himself come then the unavoidable meeting that’s starting in thirteen minutes might be less torturous to sit through.

But just as he smooths a palm over his thigh, there’s a telltale knock on his door. The rapping a pattern that only his assistant uses.

Harry clears his throat, shifting himself higher to appear more orthodox in his chair.

“Come in, Mr Rowland.”

The door makes way as it’s opened, rattling the blinds that preserve Harry’s modesty—matching that of the ones on the full-length windows that look out into the building.

The man moves to stand stiffly in front of his boss’ desk, suit free of creases and long hair tied back to maintain formality. Harry used to have long hair once.

Mitch Rowland is a quiet man; stoic, but not unfeeling. Harry believes him to be the thoughtful type, and he chips away more and more of his exterior everyday, he’s sure. Cracking a joke that makes Mitch laugh feels like a reward—an acknowledgment of all the hard work he puts in to becoming closer to his reserved assistant.

“Time for a briefing, Mr Styles?”

Harry nods, gesturing to one of the armchairs facing his desk. “Yes, go ahead.”

He’s respectful enough to look intently at the man sitting across from him. As he speaks, Harry doesn’t drift off into his fantasy land full of strawberry embroidered dresses and passion fruit martinis—no, he converses with Mitch like the approachable boss he takes care to be, discussing the best way to go about conducting the team meeting and how to amicably pull up the areas that his employees are lacking in.

Truth be told, it’s life changing having someone like Mitch as his assistant. He demonstrates capability—enough so that Harry can often sit back and let him take the reins—it’s satisfying when their brains match up like they're connected via bluetooth. It’s an easy relationship to maintain, and Harry often ponders about how grateful he is.

But never has Harry been more grateful for Mitch as he is right now. (Which is cruel really, for a situation that would probably lose in a battle of importance if voted on by a large audience.)

The meeting is going fine, most likely—Harry wouldn’t know because his mind is elsewhere once again.

ㅤㅤ

“That’s it, take a deep breath for me, darlin’.” He’s good at maintaining composure, but God if Y/N isn’t testing Harry right now. She’s still fluttering—more than ready to let him start pushing into her—as her arousal coats copious miles of skin. He leans over her, pressing a soft kiss to the dip above her chin as he rolls a condom over his neglected cock. The throbbing gets harder to ignore now that she’s laid out for him; all stretched and wet.

“Are you sure it’s gonna… fit?” Y/N looks down, pupils expanding at the sight. Long, and thick, and hard.

“I’m sure,” Harry drags his nose against her throat, lifting back up to catch her blown-out eyes. He smiles.

“I… I want you to feel good too, Harry. Please?”

His heart thumps and his eyebrows pinch. She’s special. He wants to take such good care of her.

“I feel so good, love. I promise.” Harry drops his hips to prove it, sliding through her folds and nudging her sensitive clit as Y/N’s breath shudders. “Are you ready?”

“Can I—can I hold your hand?”

She’s a doll. (Maybe in more ways than one permitting she’d like to be pliable for him, but right now Harry knows she’s cuter than even the sweetest of puppies). He wants to coo right in her face, obnoxious and embarrassing, before his voice takes on a squeaky pitch and he expresses Of course, you can hold my hand—you’re just adorable, aren’t you?

Instead, he wordlessly transfers his weight to the now singular arm holding him up as he reaches for the girl’s empty palm and tugs it up beside her head. Their fingers entwine as the mattress creates a mould of their knuckles—and Y/N’s eyes clear themselves of the fear of rejection, gazing up at Harry with such appreciation that he doesn’t even receive from his employees. Not that he’d expect them to but the way Y/N is looking at him makes Harry feel as though he’s done something far more significant than hold her hand or coax a few orgasms out of her.

It’s almost sad.

“Ready now,” she whispers, and Harry’s forgotten everything else.

He reaches down to stroke over her hip bone in soothing circles. “Keep looking at me, okay?” She nods, eyes never wavering even as Harry guides himself into her drippy hole.

The first feel of intrusion is new—different to his fingers—exciting and tight as the mushroom tip of Harry’s cock presses in gently. Y/N gasps but it doesn’t hurt; it’s a filling sensation, one that makes her question why she’s not always been doing this. It feels right, like it’s meant to be.

And when she breaks eye contact to look down, she sees that he’s hardly an inch in and exhales heavily into Harry’s face. He squeezes her hand, green surveying her expression. It takes all of his composure to ignore how tight she is around him. It’s euphoria.

“H-Harry,” Y/N whines, shiny mouth falling further with each centimetre discovered inside of her.

“So good, baby, you’re so good. Keep looking at me…there you go.” His voice is taut, even Y/N can tell, and she blinks at him because it’s all she can do—hoping she is communicating well enough with her eyes.

As he gets deeper, she suddenly expels a great breath, jumbled words tumbling out. “Thank you, oh—that’s so—oh my god.”

And Harry is bottoming out, balls resting against her bum, as he lets out some air of his own. “Look at that, darlin’,” he smiles, “took all of me, first try.”

Y/N’s face suddenly splits into a grin. She chances a lift of her leg, to open herself up more as she stretches it to the side, bent knee pressing into the sheets.

“I didn’t know I had that much space in there.”

Harry laughs (it’s quite literally forced out of his lungs) and Y/N starts to let out endless strings of giggles—delirious with overwhelming happiness—as her stomach starts to contract. She can’t stop laughing. And every one has her core tightening around Harry’s cock in pulsing flutters.

If he wasn’t searching deep in his mind for the stability not to build up too quickly, then Harry’s heart would be bounding at the sweet sound of Y/N’s giggles. Pure elation in the form of prancing lilts. Bouncing off the walls and racing past their ears; slicing through any of the nerves she had left.

To see her face bunched up in laughter is to witness beauty in its rawest form, Harry is certain. All whilst she lays bare with himself inside of her—connected as far as he can possibly reach—this feeling doesn’t compel him very often. If ever at all.

ㅤㅤ

Sitting at the head of the table with absent eyes, Harry’s nodding his head in faux-interest whilst his mind is full of filth. Not many eyes are on him anyhow, as Mitch talks through the monthly rates but—understandably—when his personal phone starts ringing disturbingly loudly, the heads of everyone turn to watch their boss answer it alarmingly quickly. The same boss who most employees have never seen handle a personal phone in their entire career at his company; might have believed he lived permanently in his office, in fact.

It’s a shock when he holds the phone up to his ear, shoots his assistant a glance and says, “You’ve got this, haven’t y’Mitch?” before exiting the room with a curt nod and a rushed shuffle to squeeze around the chairs.

Harry knows it’s unprofessional of him, but he’s been waiting for his phone to ring all week. So he’ll be damned if he misses an important call just to maintain formality. He can’t fire himself.

The voice on the other end of the line doesn’t quite contain the lilt he was hoping for, however.

“Heyyy, Harry.” He can’t help but sigh as he closes his office door and slouches unceremoniously into his chair. “You’re at work, aren’t you? Surprised you answered.”

“The luxury of being your own boss, Niall,” Harry watches the seconds hand spin around the clock on his wall. Each tick is echoed by nails tapping wood. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I was ringing to ask about you, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“You heard from Y/N at all?”

Harry looks away from his clock. “I haven’t. Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s more than alright. She had a great time with you.”

He smiles a little, “That’s nice. She’s very sweet, Niall.”

“Mhm she is… I think you should see her again.”

Harry thinks so too. “I’d like that. But I haven’t heard from her, which is fine—I didn’t want to overwhelm her.”

“That’s the thing though—she’s so nervous, even though she’s been proper gushing about ya. She’d love to see you again, I’m sure. But she’s too scared to call you.”

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. “Alright… what are you saying, Niall?”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N is shy.

Chronically shy.

She always has been and that certainly isn’t going to change overnight. Especially not if she were to meet the most attractive man she’s ever seen, have him take her home and then alter the very definition of pleasure itself. Especially not then.

But she so very wishes that was the case.

The post-it note hasn’t moved from the position Harry left it in when he penned his number. He’d been so sweet when asking if he could give it to her—like making her come multiple times wasn’t enough of an indication that she might want to see him again.

And she really does. God, she wants it more than anything.

But she’s an overthinker. She’s a worrywart, a nervous Nellie, a wet blanket—whatever. In every version of the phone call they have in her mind, she says the wrong thing, or Harry lets her down gently, or someone else picks up the phone. And if she texts him, her responses are awkward, or he leaves her messages on delivered—or worse read—or even worse he asks to see her again and then Y/N has to panic over fifty completely different hypothetical scenarios.

She decides that it’s just not meant for her—relationships, or human interaction, happiness—she’s not sure what specifically, but she knows it’s too much to handle. Harry would only be disappointed in the long run anyway; Y/N is simply saving his time—doing him a favour.

Niall isn’t inclined to agree—because of course the topic came up in conversation. Her friend had never been so eager to talk about anything in his entire life, and he loves talking.

The morning after Y/N met Harry, she was greeted by a dozen text messages, followed by multiple missed calls. (If Niall was ever in danger, Y/N thinks she’d be inclined to ignore him—never phased by the multitudes of spam she receives on a daily basis.) And at the first opportunity he had, Niall was knocking—no, pounding—on her door, sing-songing her name from outside her flat.

There was a reluctance in letting him in. This was all new territory for Y/N and Niall knew that. However in fairness to her—rather oversized golden retriever of a—friend, he attempted with all his heart to pretend he wasn’t bursting at the seams for as long as he could. Grinning in a somewhat subdued manner as she opened the door—elated beam withstanding his journey to her sofa—until he sat down and just couldn’t help himself, springing back up.

“You didn’t fuck on the couch, did you?” Half teasing, half deadly serious as his eyes widen and he shuffles away in an attempt to evacuate quicker if Y/N were to confirm his fear.

Y/N cowered behind her hands, cheeks burning, “No! Don’t say it like that, Niall.”

“Oh right, I’m sorry, hang on,” he cleared his throat obnoxiously, “You didn’t make sweet, sweet love on the couch, did you?”

She squawked and Niall cackled, holding his arms in front of his face when Y/N started to batter him with a sofa cushion.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll stop, I’ll be nice.”

He was nice. A relief to have someone to talk to, and never before has Niall been happier about anything, Y/N is convinced. She didn’t realise the status of her sex life was something to be so thrilled about, but his smile threatened to blind her.

And once the initial embarrassment had somewhat passed, Y/N was honest.

“He was so lovely, Niall. Far too good for me, I mean—God,” she smiled but it’s a little sad.

“Hey,” Niall’s eyebrows pinched, “don’t go there with me, young lady.” He flicked her arm. “Harry wouldn’t have initiated a thing if he didn’t want to. And he left his number, come on.”

And that’s how they’d ended up in a tizzy over calling him. Y/N just couldn’t make herself do it. No matter how sweet, and pretty, and kind he’d been to her. Niall had even offered to do it for her but that had sent humiliating shivers down her spine, imagining it play out. My friend has a crush on you—absolutely not.

The days pass and Y/N works. She eats poorly, often asleep standing by the time she arrives home—and if it is proper food she’s ingesting, it’s something she’s woken up at two a.m. to bake because she’d had a sudden itch to do it. The rest of her time at home is spent cleaning the mess she made whilst baking—which turns into moping with a feather duster in hand. Moping about the best night of her life and how she’ll never get a part two.

Nighttime comes and her fingers don’t feel the same. It feels fruitless to even try. She’s hardly got hands big enough and none of the curling does her any good. It only makes her angry, and that’s the one thing she was always told not to be when going to bed.

She asked Niall not to bring Harry up in conversation again; that it would only make her sad and she’ll just have to get over it. Over him—or over whatever he could’ve become.

So the last person Y/N assumes is at her door when she hears knocking, is the very man she’s trying to pretend doesn’t exist. She’s exhausted—been home for no longer than an hour after a long day of answering the phone to far more people than usual, trying to maintain equanimity as she booked meetings in the rapidly filling calendar. Her lunch break had been undeniably cut short—some may argue it was cut out completely—when the computer she was entering sensitive data into decided to crash (without saving) and Y/N had to compose herself in the toilet so she didn’t stain inky droplets all over her desk.

She was hungry, and tired, and sad, and—above all else—overwhelmed. Y/N’s not sure the last time in her life when she wasn’t, and it really builds up in a person. It’s near impressive that she’s even still running. If Y/N were a computer, much like the one at work, she would have crashed years ago. And point blank refused to turn back on again.

It’s unsettling, to say the least, when she hears that knocking. Because who could possibly be at her door right now? It’s too late for it to be the postman, Niall is still working—and that is literally all the people she knows.

In a panicked rush, Y/N scrambles to answer it, too startled to check her appearance or wipe the panda circles from around her eyes. It feels like everything happens in slow motion, from the door opening to reveal the man standing behind it—to the unveiling of his gentle smile and kind eyes. Y/N is half-inclined to slam it shut in his face with an affronted squeal.

She doesn’t quite squeal, but a noise is certainly made. One of terror, Harry might believe, as her eyes widen and flit around his face in a frenzy. The flowers in his hand are only just noticed, and she pauses on them for a moment, an expression of disbelief passing over her features before they become chaotic once again.

“Harry! I—” Y/N pastes a hand to her cheek in bewilderment, heart sinking at the sight of the man’s eyebrows kinking, migrating towards the centre. Then she trails further down, sees him still clad in his suit—crisp navy pressed to perfection. It’s jarring the way her brain switches from awkward to lewd for a split second, until she looks away with shame.

“Darlin’, are you alright?” He steps forward, hand reaching out. “You’re not going to faint, are you?” His voice is light and Y/N wants to laugh because what a ridiculous suggestion, of course she’s not going to faint! but she’s not so sure she believes it.

“No, no, I’m okay,” she lies.

“Let’s sit you down. Can I come in?”

Y/N swallows, exhaling as she looks up at him, before nodding slightly and stepping to the side to allow him room. Harry barely stops to assess his surroundings—only guides her to where he’s been before—her sofa feeling like the softest of clouds in this moment, while her heart is racing and her skin is tingling. He stays remarkably calm and light on his feet, whisking himself away to do God knows what but Y/N is hardly concerned. All she can think about is the fact that he’s here, and she’s a catastrophe, and she has not prepared for this. She has NOT prepared for this.

Harry finds the kitchen, near tripping over his feet to turn down the boiling pot of water that’s about to overflow. He throws some pasta in the saucepan—something quick he can fill her tummy with—and digs around for another that he fills with a jar of sauce. Then he’s rifling through cabinets to find a vase for the bouquet in his hand—which is something she apparently does not own, so a jug will do—before filling both that and a glass with water to take back to Y/N.

She looks timid and small—hands fiddling with themselves in her lap as she disassociates whilst staring at her coffee table. Harry places the jug down right where she’s looking and she blinks some. Her lips upturn just a little at the sight of the buttery petals.

“Drink.” Y/N accepts the glass easily, swallowing multitudes. Her face is dewy, a slight sheen of anxiety, and her knees bounce. “Better?” Harry softens his gaze, aware of the tension between his eyes—he knows he can sometimes appear cross without realising.

Y/N nods, rubbing at her nose like a little rabbit, he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is small, “you’ve been at work, and now you’re here and I’m… I’m a mess,” she tries to laugh but it falls flat.

“Don’t be silly. I’m a big boy, Y/N, you don’t need to apologise.” He’s encouraging as he smiles, rubbing over her knee soothingly. She’s still in her pencil skirt and white shirt—but she looks less like a sexy secretary and more like a sweaty schoolgirl. It’s hardly self-respecting.

Y/N grips the glass like it’s an anchor, altering her train of thought. “Uh… no one has ever… bought me flowers before.”

The smile he gives her is compassionate. A small curve of his lips and the widening of his eyes as if to implore his feelings to display correctly on his face. The way he disagrees with the fact of it—why could that be true? It shouldn’t be true. Everyone deserves flowers.

“There’s sunshine in your smile… yellow tulips, that’s what they mean.” He offers the information with zero insecurity.

Y/N’s face starts to burn, heart fighting to burst through her ribcage. She opens her mouth, and then she closes it. Harry’s watching her so, very intently, eyes crinkling when her hands press into her cheeks as if to will the heat away.

“I don’t know what your favourites are, but I thought you might like those.”

“No…” Y/N shakes her head, “yellow tulips are my favourite flower… definitely.” She chews on her lip to detain the smile threatening to break free.

“Yeah?” His eyes are shining, light reflecting off the sea glass of his irises and unlocking the depths of his spirit. “You gonna let me see your sunshine smile, darlin’?”

She laughs, a bright, bubbly giggle as her palms smother her face. “No!”

“What?” Harry grins. “What’s so funny?”

“Stop talking like that… it’s— I’m… flustered.”

“‘M just talkin’!” He insists, hands holding themself in a surrender.

“You’re being… a lot.”

“Too much?”

“No. It’s just— people don’t talk to me like you do. It’s nice… but I don’t know how to react.”

“Just show me your pretty smile, I think that’s a good place to start.”

She giggles again, eyes full of mirth—trying so desperately to embrace the fire in her cheeks. “Thank you for the flowers, Harry.”

They hold each other’s gaze.

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” his voice is soft.

“Can I— Can I make you dinner?” She starts, desperate to repay him in any way that she can. And then her eyes widen and she springs from the sofa. “Oh shit—”

“It’s okay, I did it, love.”

“What?”

“I turned the water down and put some pasta in. I’ve got it all sorted.” He touches her elbow, conveying his wish for her to sit back down.

She doesn’t.

“You— Really?”

Harry nods.

“I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be doing that! I can’t even boil a pan of water properly.”

“Listen to me, Y/N.” His voice hardens a little. Not enough to be scary, or rude, or suggest he has ill intentions. His voice hardens and suddenly Y/N wants to listen to him, just like he said. It’s relieving, almost, the way his words cut through the thick fog inside her skull.

“Sit down, okay?”

She does, eyes wide and nervous.

“You remember what we spoke about last week?”

The look on his face prompts Y/N to answer—to brush past the sex despite it being the first thing she thinks of. “About you being a— a dominant? Or… uh… taking care of… people?”

“Mhm. How would you feel about letting me take care of you?”

And Y/N is shy—it’s been discussed—but she knows she really has to be honest right now. Even if that means embarrassing herself.

“Guilty,” she murmurs.

Harry straightens up some. “Guilty? Now why would you feel like that?”

“Because! You’ve turned up today with—with flowers and you’ve put dinner on and I already want to pay you back. I don’t deserve it, I’ve done nothing to warrant all of this.”

“All of this?” Harry parrots. His eyebrows furrow but he maintains a gentle tone, shifting closer to Y/N and holding his hand out, palm facing up. She places her own on top with the hesitance of a newborn lamb, eyes meeting his. “Darling, I don’t mean to be blunt but… this is not a lot. Flowers are really the bare minimum, and putting pasta in a pot is hardly a back-breaking task. Lovely… relationships, friendships—they’re not transactional, okay?” His thumb drags across the back of her hand.

She’s going to cry.

“You don’t need to pay me back for anything. I’m here because I want to be. And I want to show you that you deserve to be taken care of. Because you do, Y/N. You do deserve it.”

A tear brims over her rapidly filling waterline. “I’m sorry,” she laughs wetly. “I’m just tired.”

Harry nods, “I know,” wiping her cheek. “You just need a little help. And that’s okay.”

“You wanna do all this… and you barely know me… why?” He’s cloudy in front of her eyes, tears obstructing his handsome face.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week. You know that?”

“Okay, sure.” Y/N rubs at her lashes, smearing more mascara around. But she’s smiling a little, at the absurdity of Harry’s words.

He replaces her hands, the soft pads of his thumbs doing an adequate job of preserving her dignity whilst he wipes the smudges away.

“Mean it. Been distracted at work remembering it all.”

She’s not laughing anymore. No, her skin is tingling now. And her throat squeezes around a swallow.

“But it’s not just about sex. I like you, Y/N. And I want to like you more—get to know you, spend time with you. Is that convincing enough?”

Y/N shakes her head. But Harry sees the glint in her eye. He narrows his own at her.

“No? Are you playing with me? I thought you were a sweet, good girl.”

The skin of her cheeks has never been subjected to so much heat in such little time. It spreads out to her chest, and down her arms. She must be praying to some sort of God to ensure her hands haven’t become sodden yet.

“That’s not fair,” she squirms. “I just… like hearing you talk.”

“Hm, you like hearing me say that I like you, is that it?”

“Maybe,” she looks down. “Never really heard it before.”

“Well, get used to it, love. I want you to become sick of those three words.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Harry just smiles. “Will you let me?”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N is confused.

Or rather, she is tentative. Anxious, uncertain, disbelieving—waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Harry sits across from her in the café they’ve frequented quite a few times in the last two weeks. His eyes are closed, taking in the first gulp of his coffee as it slinks down his throat and warms his chest, leaving a pleasant trail of heat in its place.

She admires him; something she wishes she could do more without his beady eyes on her and making her feel all embarrassed. He’s pretty—she likes to look at him. Especially when he’s not in his usual suit and slack attire. (Not that her brain doesn’t start to malfunction when he’s embraced by the flattering lines of fabric clutching to the muscles Y/N has had the pleasure of being crowded by but…) The contrast of seeing him comfortable and unfiltered is enough to make her relax too.

Or attempt to relax.

The first time Y/N and Harry came to The Little Snail Café, the former of the two had been nervous. (That is hardly information anyone would pay for.) It was a date as far she had been aware; Harry had explicitly labelled it so. And Y/N hadn’t been on a date since she was with her ex… but their time out was hardly ever impressive enough to warrant any kind of excitement.

Even remembering that she’d had a boyfriend renders every moment spent with him as less and less meaningful. As time spent wasted. He’d never told her her smile was that of sunshine. He’d barely ever told her he liked her.

But Y/N wasn’t thinking about him. Not on that day.

Harry had forced her to let him serve her dinner that evening he’d brought her flowers. Had implored that she change into something comfortable and sternly ordered glue your pretty arse to that sofa, little miss. That had been hard to argue with. Then he’d proceeded to plate up perhaps her first proper meal she’d consumed in a week and ask her about her day.

Y/N had been a little hesitant to admit the extent of her misery but Harry cottoned onto her pause quicker than most would. He was earnest in his sympathy, eyes void of ridicule as she detailed all her misfortunes.

“No wonder you nearly stacked it when I turned up,” he’d joked. “I’m sorry you had a rough day, love.”

It had been nice to have company. A pleasant silence whilst the two filled their stomachs. Y/N had missed it irrevocably—someone to breathe the same air with.

That had been when Harry asked about taking her somewhere the following day during her lunch break. A quaint place I think you’ll like. It wasn’t far and he’d have her back at work just in time. Y/N found that she trusted his word.

And although she had been worrying about it, as soon as Harry walked through the front doors and into the reception—wearing a chestnut suit that once again clung to him, like thick globules of honey, with his slicked hair that begged to curl onto his forehead in ringlets like that of a piglet’s tail—she had tunnel vision.

Her boss could have come in and fired her on the spot and Y/N wouldn’t have heard a thing. Only the rush of blood in her ears as her pupils expanded to the size of ten pence pieces and her stomach became the home to a dozen butterflies.

Harry had watched her reaction as she’d read the sign above the café—smiled at her bright eyes when she’d told him how cute it was. Had smiled even larger when he took her inside and let her discover the tiny snails etched into the edges of the tables.

“No one else has ever shared my passion for these little guys,” he’d emphasised as they sat down in the corner, sunlight flooding in through the windows and brightening up their irises, making Y/N giggle easily. Harry could tell she wasn’t laughing to make him feel better—or just to flirt—and that only made him try even harder to elicit those sounds from her pretty mouth.

He’d insisted he wanted to get to know her better. So that’s what he did.

Harry learned that Y/N eats far too much sugar, doesn’t sleep enough, and wishes she could have a pet cow. Or that is how he heard the words that exited her mouth. Y/N had only said she usually baked goodies in the dead of night and that videos of little fluffy calves make her cry.

The two never glanced away from one another. It was the kind of chemistry that drew eyes. Subtle glimpses from other customers sipping their warm drinks and cherishing that collective sense of human connection just from witnessing two people so innately into each other. Old couples nudging the other to reminisce on their younger days—workers wiping down tables and feeling a sense of respite during their long day at the unmistakable widening of the woman’s eyes in an attempt to see all of the man before her—to hang onto his every last word.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink.”

“Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

Y/N had asked him lots of those questions. And had seemed very content with every answer he gave her. Perhaps apart from that last one. Y/N might have preferred cats but it wasn’t a dealbreaker.

It didn’t last long enough, in her opinion; their date. She had to return to work far too soon for her liking. But Harry paid for her toastie and hot chocolate, much to Y/N’s disarray, and dropped her off with a stroke of his thumb to the back of her hand and a kiss to her cheek.

She’d smiled so much she’d had to bite her lip to tone it down. Receptionists were never that happy.

ㅤㅤ

Their second date had been impromptu. And not really a date. Harry had knocked on her door once again—however this time, Y/N hadn’t jumped out of her skin. In fact, she’d just finished decorating a cake she’d hoped to surprise him with and the shock of his presence was replaced with elation at the coincidence.

The door opened, and before Harry stood a smiling girl with youthful glee painted all over her face. A pleasant difference from the last time. She giggled to herself and instructed he close his eyes as she guided him to her kitchen where the sweet smells were surely giving away any element of surprise. Still, Harry played up to it—feigning shock—(it’s not that he’s a cruel man but Harry remembered things about people and Y/N wasn’t so hard to read).

“Oh! It’s beautiful, darlin’… you made this f’me?”

Y/N nodded, grinning. A proper smile, unabashed and without premeditation. Harry felt its warmth; lucky to receive such a display from someone he’d previously seen so reserved.

The cake was cute; rusticly smothered in vanilla buttercream and decorated with halved strawberries circling the edges (Y/N was not so hard to read) and it tasted heavenly. Harry never believed he was much of a cake person—he’d always much preferred ice cream—but devouring a slice with the knowledge it had been made with care, especially for him, had his taste buds in a sugarcoated frenzy.

Y/N had been so elated to watch Harry enjoy her baking that she’d failed to realise that he had come to her home for a reason. And so had Harry, apparently—a look of epiphany crossing his face as he was placing his plate in the dishwasher. (Y/N had tried to do it for him but Harry had smoothed a large palm over the top of her head and all thoughts just melted away.)

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mhm?”

“Weather’s supposed to be nice this weekend. Picnic?”

And Y/N still got flustered, sure, but…

“You came all the way here to ask me that? You have… you have my number, don’t you?”

Harry couldn’t help his smile, tongue stuffing his cheek to attempt to control it. “Yeah, I do. I do. Just wanted to see you. Good job I did too.” He nodded to the cake.

But Y/N was all twinkles. In her eyes, over her face, all the way to her toes. She had half the mind to believe Harry visited her just to garner this reaction; to inflate his ego.

“I won’t be able to take you for lunch tomorrow though, ‘m sorry.”

“Oh… that’s okay,” she smiled. It wasn’t okay. It was world-ending news. What was she supposed to look forward to now?

“Been offloading a lot onto m’assisstant lately—should really give him a break.”

Y/N frowned, “I’m sorry.”

Harry barely let her finish the word. “No. No, I don’t want to hear that.” He moved forward, nudging the back of his index finger under her chin. “Not your fault, is it?” His eyes bored into Y/N’s, stern but imploring her to not worry herself like that. To take the blame for something that was not her fault.

“I’m— I…” Words failed to form, eyelashes brushing her cheeks in repeated blinks.

Harry swept it under the rug. It’s not something he wanted her to get het up about. Another time—he’d thought—another time he’d make sure she understood never to apologise unnecessarily. To feel guilty about him causing an inconvenience just to see her; because God forbid she accepted that she was good enough to be treated with such consideration. Another time. “I’ll come see you the day after though, yeah? I still want you to try the beetroot soup.”

“Idon’tlikebeetroot,” the girl mumbled, lips downturning with the admission.

“What was that, love?”

“I don’t think I like beetroot, Harry.” Her eyes lifted…and there was that guilt once again. Fear that disliking something may cause offence or trouble.

“Have you ever tried it?”

Y/N’s silence was deafening. She smiled shyly up at him, skin tingling with the beginnings of heat—whilst Harry simply shook his head with a playful eye roll before stroking his thumb over her chin. The plush pad met with a soft indentation.

“Have an early night tonight, okay? Get some rest.” The syllables rolled off his tongue like a gentle caress; told her she looked tired in quite possibly the kindest way.

Y/N nodded, focusing all her energy on the feeling of his thumb on her skin.

And when Harry had gone, leaving her heart an overexerted mess of muscle and blood turned flower petals and bubbles, she’d simply looked to the ceiling with a shit-eating grin as she tried to swallow a giggle. There was nothing inside her that was not touched by Harry—and everything transformed from rickety and paint-chipped to sturdy and ornate—embellished down to the finest details.

ㅤㅤ

It had been a joy to wake up on Sunday.

Y/N felt the rays of sun through her curtains warming her sleepy face as her alarm blared—an alarm worth setting despite it being the weekend—and as her consciousness came rushing back to her, the memory of Harry promising to pick her up at eleven had her residual tiredness dancing away like it was performing the quickstep.

Dress weather made Y/N happy. Made her feel pretty and confident and giddy; something quite contradicting considering her skittish personality. And that’s exactly how she felt when she admired her sundress in the mirror of her wardrobe—square neck framing her chest, white fabric bunching around her shoulders in sheer puffs and cinching at her waist to flow into a floaty skirt. She looked sweet; the picturesque vision of a girl about to perch on a blanket under the sun and consume saccharine confections. Y/N pulled the hem between her finger and thumb, exposing the skin of her upper thigh, deep in thought at the fantasy of Harry taking her all in. His own confection.

And he did of course.

Though it didn’t unfold in perhaps the way Y/N had hoped. Which is why they’re called fantasies, she supposed. Because she was still her—despite feeling like a whole new person, she certainly wasn’t.

Harry had knocked on her door at two minutes to eleven, which may have been a problem had Y/N not been ready over an hour earlier than she needed to be. (With another bunch of flowers—white gardenias—“They mean I have a crush on you,” Harry leaned over and whispered as though it was some big secret. Y/N took them with a stifled titter and scurried off to place them in water, dress swishing around her thighs.) His gaze had dripped down her, as respectfully as he could manage when all he wanted was to glide his palms all over. The sight of soft skin contrasted by the sanctity of white cotton—her silky hands carrying a wicker basket (the true vision of a picnic) which Harry had plucked out of her grasp with little hesitation.

As a true gentleman would, he offered Y/N his arm to place her hand; the crook of his elbow providing a safe seat to rest from the weary necessity of holding the weight of her own limbs.

Y/N, however, would only be so lucky to mirror Harry’s formalities—to uphold the stereotype of womanly elegance—as her toe catches on a step down towards his car. Emulating their first night outside of her house, only this time it felt worse. It’s far more embarrassing, Y/N decided, to fall when holding onto the person you’re so enamoured by.

It was hardly a fall—moreso a drag of the foot, a buckle of the knee. But it was still enough to have her gasping and untangling herself from Harry. Harry who had kept her secure without any chuckling or patronising. Had his brows furrowed in concern and his hand to her elbow to steady her. Y/N still ripped herself away, turning so he couldn’t see her.

“Oh my god! Don’t look at me.” She was mortified; as the pair stood halfway down the steps, suspended in a moment.

“Darlin’—” Admittedly, Harry did have to try his hardest not to laugh. Not at her trip but her reaction; the drama! “Darling,” he tried again, “you’re alright.” His hand ghosted over Y/N’s shoulder blades, where fabric met flesh.

“That was—I’m mortified—that was so unattractive!” She barely meant it; was just humiliated as she’d said, but Harry shook his head behind her.

“You’re still very pretty, Y/N. Just a little clumsy. But that’s okay,” he turned her around, “you’ll just have to hold on tighter.” Harry admired the kinks in her brows, expressive in her shame, as he guided her hand back to his arm. “Very pretty.” He’d almost whispered it—not out of a wish that she had not heard but as an attempt to reseal their bubble—their intimate world.

The sun stayed magnificently bright for them.

As though it was watching its light bounce between their eyes; wanted the moment to last as long as it could maintain the warmth; the incandescence.

Harry followed the motions of her hands, fingernails painted in alternating shades of soft green and pastel pink, as Y/N devoured a punnet of strawberries. (She’d brought two.) She was a head-bobber, munching away with the occasional hum as her eyes transfixed onto his knees.

He was wearing corduroy shorts and a big floaty shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a white top poking out from underneath. Y/N admired his golden skin, the delicate tattoos bracketing his kneecaps, and the dusting of hair covering his lean limbs. It was still a joy to see him so underdressed, the true image of a boy she would take home to her parents.

The two looked symbiotic—two sides of the same coin, or heart, or strawberry—as Y/N offered one to Harry, who took it graciously with a smile and a scrunch of his nose. (Mild hayfever, he’d described it as.) From an outside perspective, they looked established. A relationship that surely began as highschool sweethearts. Enough so to have strangers whispering I’ll bet you a tenner he’s about to propose to her.

But neither registered any sort of outside perspective, they were the only two people that mattered, after all.

“You ought to be careful, love, you’ll get a bad tummy if you eat so much fruit,” Harry prodded, as Y/N opened up the second punnet of strawberries.

“Oh,” she frowned down at them. “My stomach sorta always hurts anyway.” He perturbed her none, eyelashes fluttering as she bit into a picture perfect fruit. Harry hardened his gaze—registering her unbothered tone with concern.

“That’s not… ideal, Y/N.” He was slow, cautious. “Y’shouldn’t be hurting all the time.”

Her eyes rounded out as she looked at him, lips plush as she took another bite. But she just shrugged her shoulders, tastebuds too preoccupied by the blossoming on her tongue. The wind picked up a little, blowing her hair across her face in soft streaks—as though the Earth was wielding a paintbrush, and using her strands as the medium. She whined a little, trying to avoid getting hair in her mouth as she finished the rest of the strawberry. Harry watched with starry eyes—zoned in on her shining skin—as a drop seeped out of the edge of her lips and dribbled down the side of her chin.

He reached over without hesitation, thumb swiping the liquid away, and Harry basked in the subtle widening of Y/N’s eyes as he brought that very thumb to his mouth to coat his tongue. Her fingers scrambled at her face messily, brushing all hair out of her eyes. It felt incredibly humid all of a sudden.

“Hey,” she pouted, refusing to be swept away under Harry’s ruse, “that was my juice.”

And Harry couldn’t help himself. Not when she was setting the scene just perfectly. “Mm, sorry,” he hummed, “d’you want it back?”

Y/N nodded, tongue darting out to wetten her lips.

“Hm?” He prompted.

“Yeah—yes, I do, please.” She swallowed; Harry’s eyes followed the contraction of her throat.

“Come here then,” he tempted. He was already in a very alluring position, elbows bracing his weight as he sprawled across the blanket, knee propped up and easily manoeuvrable. Y/N shuffled on her knees, the short space towards him, setting herself down with her hands placed on her thighs as though he’d instructed her to.

Harry pushed up, hand ghosting along the side of Y/N’s cheek. “What am I going to do with you?” Their breaths mingled, swirling across one another’s face and sinking into their skin. Y/N’s eyelids dropped closed, patiently asking, waiting. He took his time to admire her anticipating face, leaning closer to drape a sigh over her bottom lip.

“Kiss—kiss me,” she exhaled, eyelids twitching—wanting to open. But they didn’t. They stayed shut, stayed waiting, stayed hiding her from the world around them.

Harry smiled and Y/N swore she could feel it. Feel as he leant forward and brushed the tip of his nose down the front of hers. His hand stroked through the hair behind her ear, large digits coaxing her to melt and mollify into his hands, which she did so easily. She parted her lips wider, blindly tilting to try to meet his. Harry let them touch for a second—a press of flesh—before he leant back, nose nudging hers once again.

Y/N expelled a shaky breath, a little whine falling out of her neglected mouth. Her eyebrows kinked and her pretty nails dug into her thighs.

She chose to stay in the dark—from fear that it would be over if she opened her eyes. But that was something she needn’t have worried about. Harry leant back, enough to see out of the corner of his eye and reach for a strawberry.

He resisted the urge to indulge himself, mouth watering at the thought, and instead brought the pointed tip towards Y/N’s eagerly awaiting lips. Harry grazed his nose along her cheekbone, words finding her sensitive ears as he pushed the fruit to touch.

“Bite,” he whispered.

A noise of complaint lodged itself in Y/N’s throat, but she complied regardless, teeth sinking into the strawberry. Its juice coated her tongue and lacquered over her lips, the gooey pulp going down smoothly as she dared to open her mouth for another offering.

But as she did, suddenly the air around her face shifted, and the heat of Harry’s breath ghosted across her once more. Pointed and heavy exhales from his nostrils as she felt his tongue dart out to swipe across her bottom lip. It felt exploratory, leisurely—like he had all the time in the world to get to know her mouth. And it’s not like they hadn’t done this before—kissed—but it felt new, all the same. It had her breath hitching and her body leaning unconsciously into his touch.

Once her bottom lip stopped being enough, Harry pulled it down with the pad of his thumb and unlatched Y/N’s jaw in the process. He opened her up, and she let him completely, sat still on her knees as he played with her. She didn’t feel toyed with really—was still processing being touched in such a way and wondering if it would ever stop feeling so intoxicating. Harry took one final moment to bask in her blind trust; to watch the stillness of her face and feel the gentle (but rapid) breaths fan against his mouth.

And then he kissed her.

He really kissed her.

Y/N’s hmph quickly turned into a muffled mewl, open mouth accepting Harry’s tongue rubbing over hers as though it was her resuscitative medication. The only thing to stabilise her bloodstream, to soothe her fighting heart. He tasted like strawberries. And so did she. Sweet, and wet, and promising. It felt filthy but it felt clean at the same time—renewing and resetting, like running across soft sands to plunge into bracing sea water—Y/N would let him drip juice anywhere he liked, she’d let him feed fruit from his own mouth into hers. She’d let Harry spread her out and do with her as he pleased. Right there. Right then.

And it caught up to her all too quickly, the overwhelming heat of her thoughts. They were in public. But yet she couldn’t possibly entertain pulling away—not when Harry’s mouth engulfed her entirely. It wasn’t a cute kiss, a sweet reminder of affection or endearment. It was a kiss you shielded your child’s eyes away from, or grimaced at from nearby. It was sloppy, and sticky, and mind-numbingly dizzying.

Harry’s lips left syrupy residue wherever they landed—her top lip, her bottom lip, her tongue, her cupid’s bow. Y/N felt poisoned. Drip fed for weeks until Harry deemed the time right as he went in for the kill. She wasn’t sure she was even doing much of the kissing; perhaps she was simply being kissed. She tried to keep up, returned his tongue with her own and let her mouth encase his bottom lip in a frenzied attempt at reciprocation.

But his hands were holding her face, and then they were sliding into her hair, and all Y/N could do was feel.

Feel, and be felt, and—and—

ㅤㅤ

And Y/N is still confused!

She’s drifted away from their cosy table at The Little Snail Café—well physically, she’s right there but mentally… Her eyes are glossed over and she’s still very much contemplating the state of their relationship. Because… that kiss had been nearly a week ago and… well, Y/N doesn’t want to be thought of as some sex pest (she loses her virginity and now she’s clawing at the walls for orgasms) but she always thought—completely aware of her ignorance and unrealistic education—that the role of a dominant was to… fuck the living shit out of someone on the regular.

And even as she’s thinking that, with Harry right in front of her, she feels crude and disrespectful. But he hasn’t so much as hinted that he was going to have sex with her again, and that moment with the strawberries has been going round, and round, and round inside her head for days and nights and it’s driving her insane. Because, as previously established, nothing she can do matches what Harry made her feel, so any attempt at quelling the ache leaves her worse off than before.

“Don’t much like hearing how I feel about squirting, huh?”

Y/N blinks, and physically shakes her head as if to wake herself up. “Sorry?”

Harry sips from his mug, smiling. “Joke, love.”

“How uh—” she clears her throat, “How do you feel?”

“Hm… messy, but hot.”

She nods—perhaps a confusing reaction to such a sentence. Most people would probably quip back something flirtatious or coy. But Y/N just nods.

“What’re you thinking about in there?”

“Um… I was just wondering when— when you were gonna kiss me… again…”

“Y’are, are you? How uncouth.”

“Well— I just… When you said you were,” she leans forward, volume dropping considerably, “a dominant… I just thought… something different would be happening.” And then she starts to spiral. “Not in a— not because this is… this is great. I mean—”

“Settle down, darlin’, it’s okay.” Harry sighs, scratching the top of his head with a thoughtful expression on his lovely face. “‘s my fault, really. I haven’t explained much to you. And I have no doubt you are basing all of your facts on poor media portrayal.” Y/N scrunches her nose in a silent show of guilt. “It’s not just about sex,” he starts. “It is for some people, but for you I don’t think it is. And I’ve been slow, and cautious in fear of overwhelming you, and it’s resulted in probably a couple confusing weeks for you. So, I’m sorry.

“The whole point is for you not to worry, and you’re still doing that because I’m not doing my job properly, but I was worried you might change your mind so I held off. You can still change your mind, by the way.” Y/N shakes her head. Harry continues. “I’ll take you home now, if you like, give you the whoooole run through. Does that sound good?” Y/N nods. “And you’ll tell me if it’s too much, won’t you?”

“Yes, Harry. I will.”

“Can I take you to my home? Cook you dinner?” He asks, staring at the way Y/N’s head lays heavy against the headrest and her limbs are leaden, as she relaxes into his car.

She nods, lips quirking upwards with intrigue. At the blanks in her mind that will be filled. What to imagine when he’s in bed, when he’s watching TV, or eating… or… showering. “Can I help?”

Harry pretends to consider it. “We’ll see.”

ㅤㅤ

Harry’s house is… not what Y/N expects it to be.

Well, it is in some ways.

It’s large, and it’s expensive, and it’s astronomically grand. But it’s… it’s characterless. It lacks personality—and Harry Styles does not lack personality. Harry Styles is charming, and intelligent, and beautiful. But his house is stark white. There is no indication that his house is not a show home. It’s untouched, unlived in, unloved. And Y/N wasn’t expecting that.

“It’s too big, I know,” Harry gestures to the air around them as he watches Y/N take it all in.

“Not at all! No… it’s so beautiful, Harry.” And it is, it really is. She’s not lying. How can she lie when she’s staring at such a grand staircase? When the windows are so large, and bright that the space is nearly sparkling. And the garden she sees through the other side is blooming trees and unkempt flowers and just begging to be loved.

But as beautiful as it is, it’s still just… white.

He guides her through to the kitchen which…

“Woah,” Y/N admires, “you could make so many cakes in here.” She laughs and Harry grins just at the sight.

It’s true, there’s enough counter space to house at least ten separate mixing bowls. Impressively clean considering the observed shades of white. But there are signs of life in here—photos on the fridge, (one that catches her eye of two women that absolutely have to share his genes) post-it notes huddled around a pot of pens, a basket of cleaning products, a vase of flowers in the middle of the island. A comforting sight to see a little bit of the inside of Harry’s brain.

“They’re very pretty,” Y/N points at the photo on his fridge with a hesitancy that suggests she’s expecting him to berate her for being nosy.

“Mum’ll love that,” he laughs. “That’s her,” Harry points to the woman on the left, adorning sunglasses and a bright smile, and then to the right, “and m’sister, Gemma.”

“You look like each other.”

“Yeah? Y’think so?”

Harry shines when he speaks about his loved ones. Is so happy to talk about the photo of his father, his step-dad, his mum’s cat, the younger Harry surrounded by other young boys (“My mate Jonny, he was stoned as fuck in this picture. Had no idea.” His eyes crinkle around the edges and Y/N can only think about how beautiful those lines look).

Then he moves over to the island and tugs out a stool. “Come sit,” he pats.

He doesn’t let her help him cook—insists that she stay right where she is and carry on looking at him like that.

“Like what?” Y/N pretends she’s not shy about being caught.

“With those gooey eyes.”

“Gooey?”

“Mhm. You look one moment away from melting into the counter.”

“I do not,” she scoffs.

“It’s okay, I like it.”

ㅤㅤ

Harry owns the fluffiest rug in the history of the universe, Y/N is sure.

Obnoxiously cream in comparison to the rest of the colour palette. And in defence of Harry, the walls of his living room are painted a warm beige and his vast, velvet sofa is a deep forest green. The main attraction remains the rug, however. Long and shaggy and absolutely imperative to lie upon.

Y/N withholds the urge, but she stares pointedly and longingly towards it for too long to be considered a passing gaze.

“You can touch it if you want.”

“Hm?”

“The rug… that you’re eyefucking.”

“I—” she blanches, “It looks so soft.”

Harry makes the first move, blue jeans creasing at the knees as he crouches down. He pushes his palms into the strands and watches as they’re swallowed up into the depths of the faux-fur. Y/N hesitates, looking down at him on his hands and knees and wondering if it would be inappropriate to join him. But when he leans back, hands bracing himself behind him so he can lounge—mirroring the position of the day they had their picnic far too much—Y/N caves and drops to her own knees.

It’s sensory heaven—quite frankly—and Y/N knows immediately that she could get lost stroking this sole rug for hours. Harry watches her with an informed smile as she drags her fingers back and forth through the threads, already lost in a little world of her own.

“G’na have a mature and adult conversion now, alright, love?”

Y/N nods.

“Are you going to be able to listen and finger my rug at the same time?”

She narrows her eyes at him, adjusting from kneeling to crossing her legs. “I’m not finger—” she swallows. “Yes, I believe so.”

ㅤㅤ

“—I would encourage you to eat, go to bed at a certain time, turn your phone off. And I would want you to listen to me—not to argue, to trust that I know best.” That sounds easy, Y/N thinks. “I would want you to raise concerns in a polite manner—I don’t think it’s ever necessary to shout. And it would be important to me that you are always honest about the way you are feeling. No trying to make me feel better or pushing it down, okay?”

Y/N had feared it may be complicated, from the way Harry had suggested—had put off having this conversation for so long. But his commanding voice, and intense eyes make her feel so safe, and incredibly mellow. New feelings for Y/N. She nods.

“And when it comes to sex… trust is the most important thing. I don’t want to be doing anything we haven’t discussed, and I certainly don’t want you to make yourself uncomfortable in an attempt to please me. Now I know you may not be experienced with a lot of the things that are involved in these kinds of relationships but would you be interested in learning… with me? What you like and dislike?”

“Yes.”

“How are you feeling now? Good?” When Y/N nods once more, Harry gets to his feet. His voice slicks down her spine when he drawls, “Come here then. And kneel.”

Whilst Harry had been speaking, Y/N can’t deny the fact that her insides had started stirring around in anticipation. But now, as he commands her to station herself so far below him in stature, the silly little brain inside her skull begins to melt into mush. She crawls the short distance towards him until her eyes are level with the tops of his knees, and she just waits, sneaking a glance up to see Harry towering above her with a subtle quirk of his lip.

He brings a hand up slowly, warm palm ghosting the heat of her cheek and smoothing over her head in a comforting stroke. “I want you to call me Sir. T’help you slip quicker. You wanna be all nice ‘n’ mellow? Forget about all your stress?”

“Yes… Sir.” It comes out as little more than a squeak.

Harry chuckles, “You’re so good.” Y/N quite nearly beams up at him, insides swarming. “You like that? You like when I praise you?”

“Mhm,” she nods.

“Well it’s just so easy for me, darlin’. Because you’re so lovely.”

She closes her eyes, bottom lip nibbled to hide the giddy smile that overtakes her. Harry’s hand in her hair, scratching and smoothing, is already doing enough to make her eyelids heavy. But she supposes sleep is not the end goal.

“Your first time,” Harry starts. “Did you enjoy it?”

What? “Yes—yes Sir, of course.”

“What would you change about it?”

“N-nothing! It was perfect.”

He hums, nails dragging soothing lines into her scalp. “Which part?” Y/N opens her mouth but Harry keeps speaking. “When I fucked you open with my fingers? Got you nice and stretched for me—had your little pussy just quivering and begging me to fill her up?” He fists a more substantial amount of her hair. “Or maybe when I finally got my cock inside of you, and you were so happy. Squirming underneath me like a wet dream.”

Y/N can’t help but grab for his thighs, nails trying to dig in.

“Hands in your lap, darlin’.”

She pulls away regretfully.

“Was it when I fucked up into you, hard enough to force all those pretty sounds out? Or when I stretched over you and held your hands above your head? Had your body arching for me.”

Y/N is on fire. She must be. Her body is aflame and her insides have melted.

“I think…” Harry bends over some, trying to catch the eyes of the girl who is fighting every feeling. Her eyelids are shut, concealing the windows to her soul, and her brows are knitted together so tightly that she might induce a migraine. He smooths them out with a thumb before stroking over the delicate skin of her lids. “I think—look at me, darling—I think… it was when I had your stomach pressed into the mattress and a hand around your throat,” thick fingers squeeze her cheeks together with care, “and all you could do was lie there and take it. As I fucked you for the first time, just like you deserve.

“And after you came around me for the third time, I flipped you over so I could see your pretty face, and I came between your soft thighs, didn’t I, love? Did you want it inside of you? Warm, and sticky, and all because of you? Is that what you’d change?”

Y/N doesn’t actually think he would have come inside of her—he’d worn a condom, after all—but if the thought doesn’t have her thighs squeezing… “Wouldn't change,” she shakes her head. “Liked having you— liked it on…”

“Mm, I think you’d say that about everything. What do you know, after all?”

He’s right, and she hates the way his condescension has her wilting even further into the palm of his hand.

Y/N leans her face into Harry’s hand as he begins tracing over her features with a curious thumb, dedicating every line and mark to his memory. Then he’s crouching down with a little exhale and securing his hands under her armpits to pull her up with miniscule preamble. Y/N gasps, and her hands shoot out instinctively whilst Harry is lifting her up to his height. She grabs his shoulders and wraps her legs around his waist using muscle memory she didn’t realise she had.

Her knees sink into the rich green of his sofa as Harry sits down, gently encouraging her hands down from his shoulders and behind her back. A buzz zips through her chest from the feel of his warm body underneath her. Warm, and strong, and solid.

“Wanna hold these here, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his rose-tinted lips. “Gonna be a little rough with you. If you want to stop, you say Red. If you want to slow down—take a break—you say Yellow. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he says, eyes trailing down her neck, deciding what to do, “good,” repeated solely to himself.

Y/N feels the frustration of choosing to put on jeans this morning, mind spiralling at the thought of being on top of Harry with just a skirt to hide her modesty. Just a skirt that would so easily be slipped underneath by his hands, and then her underwear…

But Harry seems less concerned. His gaze is transfixed to her chest; to the intricate lace of her camisole, that—in contrast to her jeans—provides very easy access. Y/N’s breathing picks up at the very thought, ribs expanding and only drawing his eyes further. She’s tugged forward by a hand on her hip, searing through the fabric, and the other holding her hands. Tugged until Harry is resting his forehead on her sternum and inhaling deeply.

Her lungs are working at an extreme rate, and more of his nose presses into her with every breath. Y/N is so close to his hair in this position—just has to bend her face down a little and his musky scent fills her nostrils. It seems they both have similar ideas—breathing one another in—but Harry seems far more relaxed than the near shaking girl on top of him.

It only gets worse for her when he pushes his lips against the valley of her breasts—small, tender kisses that have Y/N’s breath hitching. The straps of her camisole want to fall down her shoulders in angelic swoops but her cardigan prohibits all movement. Suddenly it’s the heaviest and warmest piece of clothing she’s ever worn.

“Har—Sir,” she breathes, head tilting back on her shoulders. The caress of his breath on her body is immobilising, and he seems content in moving at a snail’s pace for his own enjoyment. Whether he gets the message or not is unclear, but regardless, Harry lets go of her hands just long enough to shuck the chunky cardigan down her arms and discard it beside them.

As soon as he tightens his grip around her wrists once again, the strain of her arms has her camisole straps slipping down the curves of her shoulders, like a waterfall of silk. The fabric is so light and thin that it pools underneath her breasts—the crooks of her elbows the only things keeping the straps suspended. And Harry’s immediate response suggests he’s somewhat of a starved individual, teeth digging into the top of the left cup of her bra and tugging it down with haste.

He takes her nipple into his mouth and Y/N is all gasps and bucks. The sensitivity of her skin and the rough suction of his lips, the flicking of his tongue and the grazing of his teeth. It’s deafening; the blood rushing in Y/N’s head, it’s near predisposing. The spit, and the hot exhales from his nose against her chest, the indentations his teeth leave behind when he pulls away to admire the wetness of her breast. But he goes back in—bites at her flesh—chews, and laves, and consumes her entirely.

Y/N’s cunt is pulsating. She is wet, and fervently hot, and the subtle rocking of her hips is ceased by a large palm over hip, which has her whining into the air.

“Stay still f’me,” he slurs into her skin, desperate fingers pulling her bra down further and watching to make sure it stays, before he starts on the other side of her chest. Her wrists are encircled behind her back, and Harry pushes her forward—into his mouth, as if he’s not already practically eating her. And maybe she can try her hardest not to squirm but all that energy has to go somewhere, and she’s panting now—whimpering all these sounds that she’s never heard herself make before—and Harry can surely feel the vigorous inflation and deflation of her lungs.

“Oh—oh, H—Sir, please.”

Please what? Stop? No. Keep torturing her breasts? Also no.

Harry hums against her, long and unwilling as his mouth leaves her with a wet smack. He admires her skin, eyes flitting up to see the dazed girl atop him.

“Don’t like it?” He puffs, inhaling deeply, beginning to dance a hand around her ribs.

“I do, I do,” Y/N breathes, eyes still closed. “Too h-hot.”

Harry frowns though she can’t see, before he’s unclasping her bra and pulling her camisole over her head—standing her up on jelly legs and pulling her jeans down. Sat on his lap once again, he tightens his grip around her wrists and curls his fingers around her throat.

“Can feel your heat, baby,” he looks down to where her clothed cunt rests just before his bulge. His still very clothed bulge. “Give me a kiss.” And she still feels exceptionally inexperienced in the whole department but her body surges forward, urged by the pressure against her pulse, as her lips meet his shiny ones.

This time, when Y/N’s hips start moving on their own accord, Harry doesn’t stop her—tugs her closer in fact. Right on top of where he’s warm, and hard. Their mouths part a centimetre, just enough to pant into one another at the feeling. Of his hand squeezing her throat, and pushing her arms into her back. Y/N doesn’t even notice when he lets go of her wrists—never daring to move them—as his palm comes down in an experimental slap to her arse.

It’s light; enough to not hurt but suggest his intentions. And when Y/N gasps and twitches on top of him, he gets the idea. “Is that nice?”

“Yes.”

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” she whimpers into his mouth, lips pasting to his cupid’s bow and falling away when he does it again. Hard enough to leave a tingle that spreads out to her centre and up her stomach.

“Unzip my trousers.”

There’s no hesitation, both his palms are holding her ass now, desperate to spread them apart but damned by the confines of her underwear. Y/N shakes a little but does what he says, exposing the hot pink of his boxers underneath—and the thick outline of his cock.

“Take me out, go on.” She meets his eyes—blown out and transfixed, mirroring her very own. “Take me out, Y/N,” he whispers, leaning closer to lick a stripe up the column of her throat, and then an open-mouthed kiss to her chin, and her mouth.

He’s heavy in her hand, and intimidatingly big. How did she ever fit this inside of her? But she feels the instinct to make him feel good. This was the one area she had experience in, afterall. The skin is so soft and all she has to do is spit down and watch as it drips from his head along his shaft. But Harry takes her hand instead and laves his tongue along her palm before guiding her down to wrap around him.

His breath hitches; their eyes don’t stray from one another’s. He holds her hand over him and starts to drag it up and down, his blinking lagging a little from the feel of her delicate fingers wriggling underneath his palm. It’s intense, and paralysingly slow—every second spent watching his face feels like sixty—and when she looks down, she feels herself clench around nothing at the sight of her smaller hand wrapped in his, and the way his cock looks between them. Red, and thick, and wet.

It must show on her face because Harry’s unwrapping her hand and reaching forward to press his fingers into the front of her underwear. “Put me in.”

“What? B-but I’m not… and you’re so…”

He nods, “I know. You can do it,” as he awkwardly fumbles for his wallet from his back pocket. Y/N’s heart jumps when he rips the condom open with his teeth—a true teenage fantasy—and slides it on with a swallowed grunt.

He tugs her gusset to the side, breaking strings of arousal and basking in the twitch of Y/N’s hips. She clumsily hovers over him, embarrassed as she holds onto his base. As she lowers down, Harry’s thumb finds her clit—swollen and hypersensitive—and she squeezes him reflexively. He groans, low and vibrating, content to roll her under his digit cruelly—distracting her from the attempt at swallowing him with composure.

Y/N whines as the thick head squeezes inside her tight hole, mouth ajar and eyes half-focused on the man who brings his shining thumb to his mouth and makes a show of relishing in the taste of her arousal.

“F-fuck,” the words force their way out of her shining mouth.

Harry rears a hand back and slaps her ass, harder than the other times, fingers staying on the skin to dig in and pull. “Don’t swear.” And Y/N doesn’t think he’s usually adverse to it but she’ll do whatever he asks of her right now.

“S-sorry, Sir,” she moans out as Harry sinks deeper and deeper inside. Maybe he should’ve stretched her out first but God if it isn’t the most blissful discomfort. That initial entrance—knowing what her body is accommodating for and how far he reaches inside of her most private place.

As soon as she’s seated on him, completely and utterly full, Harry confines her wrists once again as he sits up and encourages Y/N to lean into him. Her breasts squish into his shirt. His shirt. That he is still wearing. “Come on, baby. Tire yourself out.”

Exhaustion is already seeping into her bones but Harry’s voice croons into her ears so tenderly—it coats her skin in a sheen of glitter and pumps sparkling wine through her veins. She makes every effort in lifting up and sinking back down—in, albeit, slow and wobbly movements—but the concentration on her face is like a drug to Harry. It has him thumbing over her nipple and taking it into his mouth again, which only has Y/N stuttering and inevitably stopping. She pants, and wiggles, and whines, enough so to have Harry placing both palms underneath the seam of her underwear and gripping her bum like he’d wanted.

He squeezes and stretches to his heart’s desire, mouth still firmly attached to her breast, but his strong hold aiding Y/N in moving once more. She’s lifted up and down, and up and down—slow enough to feel every ridge of him opening her walls.

“M-my legs hurt. Sir.” Y/N wishes she were a gym fiend as she admits it.

“Do they, love?” He pulls back from her chest, discontent to stop nibbling her skin raw but her voice is oh, so fragile. He’ll take care of her like he promises all the time. “Lean your head on my shoulder—keep your arms where they are.”

When she doesn’t immediately listen, and looks up to his eyes with a silently begging expression, he cocks his eyebrow. “Can I f-feel you? Your skin, please, Sir.” He’d left his clothes on, somewhat intentionally, but he doesn’t feel so mean in this moment. A nod is all the encouragement she needs, as Y/N unbuttons his shirt with clumsy fingers, and pushes it off his shoulder to rest her cheek upon. Her arms go back behind her and her nose moves forward to press into his neck deliciously. He smells of allure.

Harry can’t help himself when he tears her underwear from her body. She’s too soft, and warm, and wet to simply entertain the idea of pulling out of her. And from the noise she makes—a surprised squeak but no beratement—and the clench around his cock, he can only assume she likes it. Likes the desperation, or the display of strength, or his pure animal brain—it doesn’t matter. Because Harry’s kneading her ass in heavy handfuls, and moving her faster and faster, and Y/N is flooding his neck in her warm, tight pants—sweet whines falling out of her mouth.

“Beg me to come,” he grunts, granting Y/N no kind of warning before his fingers dig in harder and his hips slam into her at a speed that has her lungs forcing out high-pitched squeals. The sounds are nasty, unmistakable and unexplainable. The slap of skin, the wetness between her thighs, the noises that leave both their lips. It’s raw, and scaldingly hot, and— and… she needs to rub her clit.

“I— Sir, I can’t—”

“No?” His thrusts don’t falter, not even once. She’s on her back in a second, and her wrists are trapped underneath her. He makes no move to readjust them, only stretches her knee to the side so it pushes into the back of the sofa before grabbing a throw pillow and stuffing it under her hips. “Come on, beg me, little doll,” his hand spans across her mound, thumb meeting her clit in a back-arching press. This, has her cunt tightening—pulsating, contracting, strangling his cock. And with the pillow angling her just right, Harry can feel himself underneath his palm; it drives him batty.

He fucks her into the sofa, hard and unrelenting, leaning over her to chew on her tits once more. It’s sweaty, and messy, and that only makes it hotter. “Beg, Y/N.” His thumb rubs faster, expelling the choked up cry from her throat. She’s so close, is writhing underneath him—fighting the rolling of her eyes into the back of her skull.

“Please! S-sir, I—”

“That’s it. Good girl letting me fuck you—your sopping cunt, baby. Beg better than that, come on.”

His words send her spiralling, orgasm racing up on her and she panics that she won’t be given permission before it happens. “Oh my god! Oh, pleasepleaseplease, Harry!— Sir, please l-let me, please.” It’s adorable, Harry finds, her minimisation of the English dictionary when she’s so bent out of shape. Her pleading is less begging and more repetition, but he’ll let it slide.

He’ll let it slide as he presses his thumb harder and leans back to watch as he murmurs something akin to the value of diamond. “Come. Fucking come f’me, darlin’. Look at you.”

Y/N can’t hear anything. Not now. All she needed was that first word of permission and she’s seeing stars. Spasming around him so tight that Harry’s own moans started flowing out, pace increasing as he rolls her clit under his thumb. “Fuuuck, there you are. Keep squeezing like that, there’s a good girl.”

It takes her a while to come down from, no surprise considering Harry is still pounding into her, and her whimpers echo his moans—desperate and unabashed, his lips red and brows tight. He looks so handsome. So beautiful above her with his flushed skin and his flexing muscles, unbuttoned shirt floating around him. Y/N’s not sure she’s ever felt so peaceful, in a dreamlike state in all her vulnerability. And she keeps contracting around him, like he asks—because when he groans like that, she’d have to be a sadist not to—and as his moans build up in pitch, and his eyes meet hers in frenzied pleasure, she’s sure she wants him to come more than she’s ever wanted her own orgasm in her life.

Harry surges forward, smearing his lips all over Y/N’s mouth. It’s messy, and uncoordinated, and his tongue is slicking her skin. But it’s the hottest kiss she’s ever had. And it feels so good when his groans hit a crescendo, and his hips stutter, and Y/N can feel the warmth of his spurts inside the condom. She whimpers against his open mouth, arms losing all feeling behind her back, but she doesn’t care because his eyelashes are brushing against her cheek and it’s the most intimate thing she’s ever felt.

They’re lethargic, Harry’s movements, and he’d like to be much more alert but his body is tingling and Y/N is looking up at him so trustingly—he wonders if she’s fallen into a stupor.

“Th-thank you, Sir.”

He strokes her hip bones, pulling out with a soft hiss. Y/N whines a little at the sensitivity.

“You can call me Harry again now, if you like, darlin’.” He leans down to kiss her forehead, consuming palms holding her cheeks.

She’s not really listening. “Mm, feels… feel kinda drunk.” She smiles, nose turning into his thumb. Harry gives her another kiss and pulls away, to knot the condom and collect her clothes. Minus the pair of panties that are no longer wearable. He doesn’t feel even an ounce of guilt.

He’ll make her some food, watch as she eats it with her eyes begging to close, and then let her sleep in his bed—hoping she’ll want him to stay.

Little does he know that Y/N will wake up in the middle of the night to raid his kitchen in a matter of ways that Harry will reprimand her for.

But for right now, he’ll keep her as happy as he possibly can.

#harry styles #harry styles one shots #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles imagines #mutually beneficial #writing #domrry #dom!harry #fanfiction

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lavandiors · 1 month

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( 📁 baby fever. by lee haechan ＿ ⭐ O1O1 )

when your sister has her daughter and you go to visit her, haechan can't think about anything other than having your own baby.

𓍯 . ݁ ✦ ݁ . ─── pairing. lee haechan x fem!reader. genre. fluff, established relationship. warnings. mentions of pregnancy, a lot of fluff, really.

lily notes. sorry, i'm a victim of baby fever and needed to write something about this. haechan is the love of my life, so here he is. <3

haechan really wishes someone had warned him about seeing your partner with a baby, about how much it would make you want one of your own.

your sister had recently had her baby and you couldn't afford to miss the opportunity to meet your niece. therefore, you waited until haechan had a day off and went to visit your sister.

when they both saw her, haechan was surprised. that baby looked more like yours than your sister's, you looked alike, it was undeniable.

even your sister had jokingly mentioned that if she'd known her daughter would look like her annoying sister, she wouldn't have had her.

but here you were. crying with your sleeping niece comfortably in your arms.

haechan was sitting next to you, hugging you sideways as he wiped away the tears that fell from your eyes, rubbing your arm or kissing your cheek occasionally to comfort you.

“she’s so beautiful” you whispered, your voice shaking, haechan smiled, gently wiping away a tear with his thumb.

"just like her auntie" he responded, causing another tear to fall. you let your body fall against his, letting his arm now wrap around your shoulder, careful not to wake the baby.

you had leaned on his chest, with your head on his shoulder, a position you adopted regularly for the feeling of protection and warmth it gave haechan.

he smiled so big when he saw you rub your cheek against the baby's little head or when you kissed her forehead, that anyone could swear he was in love with you.

his eyes were now the doors to his feelings towards you. in the sense of the word purity, adoration, love.

his chest was warm, not just from your body heat, but from everything you were making him feel. he rested his head against yours, kissing it and letting his pits fill with your scent.

he took your free hand in his as if it were made of glass, squeezed it gently and caressed it with his thumb. his body was relaxed, he was safe and comfortable.

he had you, in your most human aspect, with a baby that wasn't yours, but he could imagine it was. he was thinking about what a mother you would be like, what a good mother you would be, taking care of your baby day after day. together.

he watch you carefully, admiring the smile that grew on your face. he didn't know that you were so good with children that, when your sister handed you a crying baby, she would stop crying in your arms.

he wanted that, he needed it.

he couldn't contain everything he felt in his stomach, in his chest. you looked so serene and warm, that he himself wanted to give you that feeling forever.

he couldn't find a way to let out that heat, other than in a few simple words.

"i want to have a baby," he said suddenly, with a voice full of love and tranquility. his hand left a strand of hair behind your ear as you turned to look at him, shocked.

"what?" you responded, completely stunned. you knew that haechan was a dreamer and wanted to spend a life with you, just like you. you wanted to get married, live together until you were old, but children? you didn't expect it.

his soft eyes looked into yours, you could swear you saw the entire galaxy in his pupils. his lips approached your nose, placing a kiss on the red tip of it.

his forehead rested on yours as his hands made their way to the back of your neck, caressing behind your ears with his thumb. his soft, loving eyes closed, breathing.

“i want us to have a baby, our baby” his words crashed into your face. you let yourself be carried away by his caresses and soft actions. you also wanted the same thing.

“our baby” you replied, closing the space between the two of you.

a slow, but passionate kiss. where all the "i want" were there, in a kiss. his hands became responsible for bringing you closer to him, suffocating you with his being. his lips moved in time, slowly, demonstrating the words that the heat in his chest demonstrated.

when you separated, your foreheads never moved away, smiles appearing between the small kisses. “i want to have a baby too, with you” you replied, letting haechan fill your face with kisses.

"we'll do that then" he responded, kissing you lovingly again.

and between the warmth of his arms, with a new member of the family in your arms, haechan and you signed a pact of love, of trust, where all feelings became eternal, sworn.

his arms would always be a warm and comfortable home for you, and your future child.

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ahsxual · 2 months

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Stu Macher x Fem!Reader where they are dating but the readers parents hate him so one night are 2:33 am Stu knocks on the readers window and she opens it it tells him to leave but before she can get a word out Stu is kissing her and telling her how much he misses her and one thing lead to, and so Stu had to push the readers head into her pillow so she didn’t wake anyone.

Sorry if the store request does not make any sense i’ve been wanting to request something from you for a while and this idea kinda came to my brain as I was falling asleep at four in the morning so I am very sleep deprived lol anyways I love your story. I hope you have a great day

Surprise Baby

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Warnings: +18 content, clingy and soft Stu, dirty talk, degrading, cursing, dom!Stu, p in v (w/o protection), sad Stu at the end (reader comforts him)

Word Count: 1,8k

A/N: This was actually a very interesting request and Ik very well that our daydreams before we sleep are the best 🤭 I added something to the plot at the end, so I hope you still like it! Tysm, I'm so glad you like my writing! It always feels so gratifying whenever you guys tell me that <33

Right now you're lying on your bed crying, while hugging your favorite bunny plush that Stu gave you for Valentine's Day. You'd just had an argument with your parents, since they weren't the biggest fans and supporters of your relationship with your boyfriend Stu Macher. You didn't understand why they didn't like him and didn't even make an effort to, even though Stu always made you happy and made your life more colorful and enjoyable from the moment you met him. Of course Stu had his flaws like everyone else, since perfection is impossible to achieve and that was fine by you. But not for your parents. They said that Stu distracted you from school, that he "lived" for parties and didn't give you your "precious" time to concentrate on your studies, because he always took you on dates so that he could spend more time with you, even when you said you were busy.

You perfectly knew that Stu wasn't a guy who would take "no" for an answer. Maybe it was because he'd always been spoiled by his parents and didn't understand the meaning of that word? Maybe he hated the fact that you would say "no" to him, because if you truly love him as you always say, why would you reject an opportunity to go out with him? Both answers to those questions are probably correct, because you knew that Stu didn't know how to respect your personal space either, not that you minded anyway. But your parents did and that was the problem. They even told you once that Stu was obsessed with you and that your personal life has also become his, as if it were his property. Maybe they were right about that, but that's how Stu showed how much he loved and cared for you and it always worked well in your relationship. And you really missed him.

Sleep didn't want to make its presence known, so you decided to watch your favorite show on your new tv. However, you still couldn't stop thinking about the argument with your parents. Of course you defended your boyfriend and were always on his side to protect him against anyone, even your own parents, but it did made you very upset... all you wanted was for your family to see how genuinely happy Stu makes you feel, how he always admired you and treated you as if you were the only woman to walk on earth and how he's so funny that it's practically impossible not to laugh because of some silly joke he's made until your cheeks hurt. You just wished your family accepted him and loved him as much as you did...

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when you heard your window being knocked on repeatedly. You screamed for a second, because you weren't expecting that to happen in the middle of the cold night. Nevertheless, you immediately felt relieved when you saw Stu standing there with his puppy eyes and big smile on his handsome face you loved so much. A wide smile appeared on your face the moment you realized your boyfriend wanted to surprise you and that he had actually made an effort to see you.

His giant body barely fit through your window and the way he clumsily tried to get into your room, like a cartoon thief, made you laugh until your belly started to get sore.

"Baby, what are you doing?? It's cold outside!" you asked worriedly, before you watched him fall face down on the floor as he let out an "ouch". You couldn't stop laughing at his poor attempt to sneak into your room, as he already knew that your parents would never let him in, especially so late at night. You looked over your bedside table, where your alarm clock was, to see what time it was, as it marked 2:33 am.

"Surprisee baby!" he shouted excitedly, with a contagious smile that didn't leave his face for a moment. His breathing was accelerated, which made you realize he had some trouble climbing up to your window. You felt your heart warming at his romantic gesture, yet you didn't want your parents to find out and kick him out of your house or worse.

"Be quiet babe, you're not supposed to be here! You need to leave Stu, my parents are gonna ki-" you were really worried about your boyfriend's safety, but Stu didn't give you a chance to finish your sentence, as he grabbed you firmly around your waist and began kissing you passionately with his long, skilled tongue. His hands were all over your body and his grip was tight, not allowing you to move away from him.

"Shh- don't worry about them. It's just us now. I've missed you so much, baby." he admitted, before kissing your neck eagerly. When he he'd had enough, he pulled you up by your hips and laid you down on your bed, his mouth never leaving yours. You couldn't help moaning as you felt his sweet, loving assaults on your body, his lips and big hands making you melt into his addictive touch.

"Love, we have to be quiet... and you're making it hard for me." by now you were feeling breathless, unable to contain your desire for your horny and needy boyfriend. Instinctively, you rubbed against Stu's crotch which made him groan in pleasure, as you could feel him already hard under his jeans. He began to gently pinch your nipples through the fabric of your short pajama top, enjoying and closely analyzing your reactions to his teasing touch.

"Looks like I have to shut you up so we don't get caught, baby..." the last thing you saw was a mischievous grin on your boyfriend's face, before he firmly turned you around so that you were on all fours for him. He pressed his erection against your ass, while his eyes rolled back as he put his head back from the stimulation and his mouth was slightly open. You were starting to enjoy this game way too much, to see who couldn't hold back their moans, and you made sure you would win this battle. You pushed your ass against him and started rolling your hips in a provocative way, knowing that Stu wouldn't be able to hold it much longer. He bit his lips at this and frowned, realizing what you were trying to do to him.

"My girl really wants to get some, huh? You wanna play dirty, doll? Do you really think you can win this game against me?" he laughed trying to mock you, making you feel pathetic if you really thought you could stay quiet with the way he was about to fuck you.

"Just fuck me already Stu, I can't hold it much longer..." you quickly gave up and decided to beg him for mercy, so you could feel him inside you for once. You were dripping by now and the thought of having to keep quiet so no one would catch you at such a vulnerable and intimate moment turned you on even more for some reason.

You finally felt him give you want you wanted, since Stu himself wasn't a very self-controlled guy when it came to you. You felt his tongue lick a long, firm strip from your throbbing clit to your pulsing, empty hole. This made you grip your pillow as hard as you could while he ate you out from behind. Unfortunately, it didn't last much longer like you'd hoped, as you didn't realize how horny and impatient Stu was feeling that night. Suddenly, you felt his fully erect cock enter you without any resistance, sliding easily into you because you were so wet with your cum and his saliva. He didn't give you any time to adjust to him as he usually did and started pounding you hard and fast. He knew you all too well, so he pushed your face against your pillow to prevent any sound coming out of your pretty mouth and kept his strong hand on your head. You prayed that no one would hear you both fucking like horny teenagers who can't control their sexual hormones. It wasn't your fault that you and Stu were so fucking attracted to each other and that your shared love was considered obsessive, right?

"You like that, don't you babygirl? You love it when I fuck you like this... You needy slut, can't get enough of your boyfriend's cock inside your tight hole. I bet your parents would be so embarrassed if they saw you getting fucked this good." he whispered in your ear before changing his angle to fuck you deeper. Wet sounds, your muffled moans and his heavy breathing were the only sounds being heard in your room, turning you both on even more. It didn't last much longer when you both came at the same time, since Stu was way too horny to hold his orgasm. He was so glad he'd made you cum before he climaxed inside you.

After the moment of ecstasy you both experienced, you lay there trying to catch your breath while staring at the ceiling. It was then that Stu pulled you closer to him and hid his face on your neck, clinging to you more than usual. He was acting way too needy and clingy, and wasn't trying to be the "dominant" one, which made you worry about him.

"Are you ok, love? Do you wanna talk about it?" you asked him softly as you caressed his hair and cheeks. You knew him too well to recognize whenever he wasn't feeling good, even when he was trying to hide it.

"My girl knows me so well." he chuckled weakly, trying to find the right words to tell you what was had been bothering him. After a moment of silence in which you tried to comfort him with your tender touches, he finally spoke. "My parents won't be able to make it for my birthday. Again." your heart ached for him, because you knew this problem had happened before. Although Stu's parents loved him and treated him right, they had never been very present throughout his life and that took a tool on his emotional behavior. That explained why he was so addicted to your attention and wanted you all to himself, all the time. It made you really sad that you couldn't help your boyfriend properly, because the presence of anyone's parents is irreplaceable.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, baby. I'm sure they're extremely busy with work and that's the only reason for their absence on such a special day. We both know that they love you and I'll be there for you to make sure you have the biggest party ever." you gently grabbed his face and smiled warmly at him, admiring his ocean eyes that reminded you of the maldivian water, as he stared back at you with pure love.

"I know you will. What would I do without you? You're the love of my life, you know that right?" you chuckled as you softly kissed his cute nose.

"I love you too, Stu... so much. You have no idea of how much love I have for you and no one ever will."

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angelwhisp3rs · 4 months

Text

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒 obsession

Pairing: ID!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Training the rookies was a pain until he met her. His sweetest new obsession, he wouln't stop till he was buried deep inside her.

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap (not too much! i imagined leon being 37 and the reader being 23-25, so everyone is legal and consenting! Its not his age in ID but i use it only bc of the character background), p in v, eating out, riding, breeding kink, leon is obsessed!, a small housewife kink.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ on repeat: exo - obsession

Notes: Got too excited and posted without proofreading it! If i missed anything, please let me know so i can correct it! Also, when will tumblr make a pastel pink theme for the dashboard? I hate that everything we have is either a sad/gloomy hipster or raging gothic theme.

From all his years working at the D.S.O, Leon was stressed pretty much all the time, never catching a break, too exhausted. That showed on the increasing wrinkles forming from his frowns, and the occasional white hair that appeared on top of his head. In his non-existent breaks, he had another thing on his belt: training the new agents.

At first, it was a pain in the ass, watching those morons do the same mistake over and over, it really made Leon think it was getting too easy to be a D.S.O agent. Some repeated the same mistakes over and over again, and because of it, Leon frequently lost his patience, soon getting known as a hardass.

As time went by, he began losing hope for the future of the department, until she came through. Pretty body, voice as soothing as a canary and delicious lips that called for him. And the best thing was that she was better than all of these morons, throwing down even the experienced rookies.

Since Ada, Leon didn’t know what it was like to be this obsessed with a woman. He wanted to know her next step, have her by his side all the time, know how her soft skin feels underneath his rough fingertips. He dreamed of her, and caught himself checking her out more than he should. Chris always teased him in private, telling him “his star student is making him turn back to his twenties”. God, they had a small age gap, but thinking about it only made his cock throb. Maybe dealing with rookies made his mind turn him back to his twenties.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

As their “graduation” got closer in time, all the new agents began training more, but none were like her. She came in first and left after all of them, always using the training gym by herself the most she could. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Leon offered private training, becoming a private tutor to her.

Instead of making things easy, it just caused him to become even more addicted to her - he now knew her thoughts, her quirks and her perspectives. As they spent more and more time together, it was clear that she found him attractive too - he knew he was still successful with women, after all (even if he was more dumped than anything). Leon had cemented in his mind that he needed her, and now he just needed to find a way to approach her.

She will be all his.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

One of the nights, he had to spend in his office reading and filing boring documents, Leon heard a gentle knock on his door. “Come in” he simply answered, and to his surprise - and excitement, it was his little star. She entered his office, and her usual sparkly eyes were dull, the poor thing was too tired, working herself too much.

“What happened, rookie? You look exhausted. Working too much to bring me down?” Leon said with a smirk

“Ha, you wish, sir.” Oh, how that term made his pants tighten. “I just came for help, I don’t know. I’ve been focusing on sharpening my skills for the admission test, but I don’t know…” she said unsure

“Hey, don’t tell the rest, but you’re the only one that I would bet on getting in” he reassured her, standing up and taking a seat beside her in his couch “You’re too much in your head, agent”

“I know, I just can’t turn it off…” she whined, making Leon think how she would sound if he made her cum around his cock

That 's it. That was Leon’s chance to get his favorite student. He put a hand on her thigh, not too close to her precious cunt and said quietly to her “It’s alright, sweetheart… I can help you, if you want”

She knew where this was going, and it turned her on more than she thought. Feigning innocence, she pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, nodding “But… How, sir?” and looked at his lips

Leon smiled, caressing her jaw “let me fill your mind, rookie. Why don’t you sit at my desk, hm?”

She stood up and slowly went to his desk, sitting on it and letting her head fall to the side, as if to question him “what’s next?” with her body language. Leon follows her, standing between her legs and letting his hands caress the outer side of her thighs. His face lowers to her neck, his kisses and his stubble causing a warm sensation to run through her skin. A soft gasp left her lips, her hands caressing the back of his head.

Feeling him smirk against her skin, he kept placing slow and gentle kisses, adding some nibbles on the mix “That’s what my best student needs, right? A real man to touch her”

He lays her on his desk, pushing his papers aside, pulling her hips into his - his cock adding a nice weight to her sensitive wetness. He slowly pushed her shirt up, watching her beauty for a moment “You’re perfect, baby”. As he whispered the praise, her cheeks blushed more, a soft giggle leaving her lips. He finally kissed her lips and both were hungry for each other, to quench the thirst they had been accumulating after months.

Leon swiftly undoes her bra, not wasting any time and circling his tongue around her nipples, sucking and lightly nibbling it. Underneath him, her breath quickens, as she whines freely as he teased her. Trying to ease their ache, Leon grinds their centers together, his cock so hard that his zipper presses against his member.

Soon, he removed her pants, kissing as her skin showed - inch by inch. Again, his stubble creates goosebumps in her legs, as he worshiped her body - she deserved it, after all, he wanted to make her addicted to him and his taste. Watching her panties so drenched as they were glued to her pussy, he couldn't help but nuzzle into her bundle of nerves, causing a gentle jump on her. He kissed and licked the wet spot, as if trying to eat her up.

“F-fuck, please take them off, sir” she whined, not even realizing that she kept the term. Leon, deciding that he wasn’t in a teasing mood, guided the clothing down, letting his pretty star all spread on his desk - his to take, to tease, to fuck, to breed.

“Shit, baby girl, you are so wet for your teacher… you wanted me to take you, right? You wanted me to go crazy and drench my face with you. huh?” He teased her as he got on his knees, aligning his face against her cunt. She was so red, puffy and wet, not even the most delicious candy could compare to her.

His tongue tasted her at first with kitten licks, causing a loud moan to rip from her mouth. “Keep quiet, sweetheart. We don’t want anyone coming here and seeing you spread out like a needy slut, right?” at his comment, and as if teasing her, he finally sucked and rolled his tongue around her clit, letting his index finger circle her wet entrance. Almost as if she was distressed, she cupped her mouth with her hand, rolling her eyes back at the pleasure.

Pushing his finger forward, slowly, until he's entirely inside her, he kept eating her out with gusto, as if he was a starved man. Soon, what was one finger turned into two, her juices were flowing through his palm as he began to be more desperate for her - but he wouldn’t stop till she let him taste her entirely. “It feels good, doesn’t it, my doll? I’m the only man and only one for you, gonna make sure to keep this pussy satisfied till I die”.

His fingers and mouth worked more ferociously, pussy drunk wasn’t even close to describe how he was feeling.On the other end, she had tears in her eyes as one hand didn’t leave her mouth as the other one tugged his hair hard, making him moan against her drenched cunt. “S-sir, o-oh g-god…need to c-cum!” she pleased, looking down at him with glazed eyes.

“Do it, baby girl, give it to me” he ushered her, maintaining the pace till she finally coated his fingers, tongue and mouth with her essence. As her ‘little death’ came, she felt as if fireworks erupted inside her mind - none of her exams daring to creep up on her mind.

He praised and marked her thighs as she came down from her high. The girl pulled Leon into a passionate kiss, smiling in contentment, reaching cloud 9000. Pulling away, she whispered against his lips “Let me repay you, Leon. Wanna make you feel just as good”

“Not today, doll.” He whispered, sitting back in his chair and pulling his pants and underwear down, patting his lap “I know how to help you even further”, he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Like an excited bunny, she hopped off his desk and jumped into his lap, resuming her kisses on his mouth - casually descending into his jaw and neck, enjoying the pleased hums that he lets out. He palmed her ass and firmly grabbed it, giving some gentle smacks as she had his fun with him. To Leon, in all of his life, that was his happiest moment: having his pretty princess on his lap, all naked, hypnotized in kissing and feeling him up.

“Go ahead, baby, let me finally empty your mind and use you” he calmly ordered her, caressing her cheeks adoringly. Soon, she positioned herself and slowly sat down on his cock, rolling her eyes back and holding into his chair behind him.

“S-so b-big…” she moaned, her head falling into his shoulders as the girl swallowed all of him. She was so tight, wet and perfect, Leon almost came deep in her cunt just by her inserting him. His head got dizzy for a moment, his hold on her ass tightening, as he grunted and pressed his eyes closed.

Dedicatedly, she began jumping up and down on his cock, their skin slapping as the woman looked directly into his eyes. If anyone saw them at that moment, they would attest that both had heart in their eyes. her tits jumped up and down in front of him, making his tongue and fingers play with them as the couple lost their minds in pleasure.

“Good job, doll… jumping on my cock like the good girl you are… it’s all for you, always for you” he said rambling in pleasure, busying his mouth to tell her praises and roll her sensitive nipples on his tongue, as her cunt drenched his cock, causing a white ring at the base.

Holding tightly into the back of his chair, her hips worked even faster on him, making Leon moan more frequently in pleasure, slapping her ass, leaving behind his handprints on her pretty skin. His head falls back as he watches the goddess in front of him taking what's hers and milking his cock into her hungry pussy. He would make sure that she passed her admission check, so every end of shift he would breed her cunt, till she is finally all of his - the mother of his children, his pretty wife. But that’s a talk for later.

After some minutes pass, Leon takes over and thrusts from below, making her body turn into his own ragdoll, her moans flowing freely into his mouth. Some minutes passed, and both were on the brink of their orgasm, so close to reaching their true paradise “Will you let me fill you, doll? Make your womb so full of me, gonna make you get home with me drenching on your legs” he taunted her.

Not handling much more teasing, and his words serving as a catalyst to her peak, she nods and coats his cock with her sweet arousal, biting down on his shoulder to drown out her sounds. Her roughness and the new tight hold on his cock makes him spill into her gummy walls, emptying himself. Finally, he marked her as his. His doll, his love, his property.

Both were coming down from their highs, trying to control their breathing, letting their heartbeat slow down. He caressed her hair, kissing her cheeks and nuzzling their noses together, all smiles. “So, did I help?” he asked jokingly.

“Didn’t even know why I came here” she answers teasingly.

From now on, Leon would never be exhausted for the wrong reasons ever again.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon x reader #leon smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #infinite darkness #leon kennedy infinite darkness

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heartsforhavik · 5 months

Text

mk1 men x reader hcs (fanfic tropes edition)

pairings: havik, johnny cage, kung lao, raiden, rain, syzoth, shang tsung, smoke x reader (all separate)

warnings: slight angst in havik’s bc his past is damn sad. slight gore in shang tsung’s. slight spoilers for mk1 story mode. reader is gender neutral in all.

summary: sfw headcanons of you and the mk1 men but with common fanfic tropes (only one bed, coffee shop, enemies to lovers, etc)

a/n: this. took. 6 hours. i was gonna put baraka, reiko, liu kang, and bi-han, but they didn’t make the cut lol. also if anyone wants, i can turn any of these into full fics. all u gotta do is request it!!

havik: only one bed

- you and havik were very close. you knew each other pretty well, but that’s about it. you were never more than friends, even if you wish you were. even if your banter together suggests to be more than friends, you usually assume it’s just a joke.

- until you both had to take shelter in an abandoned house. you were on the run, trying to escape the soldiers in sun do chasing you both down.

- what you didn’t know was that there was only one bed inside.

- “you may rest on the bed. i can just rest on the floor or keep watch.” havik offered.

- “no, you deserve rest too. we’ve had a long day. you should sleep.” you told him.

- havik sighed. “there is no point in arguing. perhaps we can share?”

- the idea made you a bit flustered, but you were not against it one bit. you found havik attractive, and you respected him like he respected you. but the idea of sharing the same bed is so… intimate. it’s like he trusted you enough to be beside you while he slept. it was flattering.

- you agreed to his offer, and crawled to opposite sides of the bed. he had his back turned to you, and you could clearly see his back muscles and his biceps in the dim light crawling through the window. thank god the moon was bright, so you can clearly look at him.

- you were so close. it was almost embarrassing how you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. you were basically ogling at him while he slept.

- but you snapped out of it and you slowly succumbed to sleep, not knowing havik was awake the whole time.

- havik tossed and turned, he couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt comfortable enough to be next to him while you slept. you’re so vulnerable. you looked so peaceful and delicate while you slept. usually he’d refuse to go to sleep since he doesn’t really need to, but he wanted to take the opportunity to be close to you.

- he’s a stubborn guy, always wanting revenge for his past in seido. he’s bitter. he’s angry. he wants freedom for other seidans like him. he craves liberation and to bless others lives with anarchy. but it’s in times like these when he can finally relax. when he can just sigh in contentment, and sit next to you as you slept.

- you looked so happy as his ally, having the freedom to do what you want. havik sees you as a symbol of what life can look like for others. surely if you’re happy and free, other people can be too?

- he also knew he had feelings for you. he tried to push them away and pretend you were just allies, because he wants to focus on his pursuit to liberation. but someday.. someday when he achieves said liberation… he’ll confess his feelings. someday, havik will finally feel safe enough to be vulnerable with someone for the first time after years of being a slave. and if he had to be vulnerable with anyone in all the realms, it’d be you. someday.

johnny cage: fake relationship

- you were a famous actor. you weren’t incredibly famous or anything, but you were definitely well-known.

- one day at another actor’s party, you happened to meet johnny cage.

- “did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” johnny flirted, giving you a wink.

- you both got along for a few hours, laughing and talking as if you were old friends. you even gave him your number with no hesitation.

- but what you didn’t know was that somebody took photos of you two and posted them online. and the internet started assuming you were a couple because of how happy you both looked.

- your names were trending on twitter and fans everywhere were hoping you were a real couple.

- then, johnny himself texted you, proposing that you both went along with it and pretended to be a couple. you agreed, of course.

- so for the next few weeks, you both went to visit each other frequently and got ‘caught’ by the paparazzi many times. pictures and videos of you two were everywhere. you and johnny had lots of fun together going through the edits and fan accounts that were already made.

- but, you were secretly really enjoying the ‘fake’ relationship you two had. you actually wanted him for real. you didn’t know that he was doing the same.

- you found out one day when you were at his mansion for the thousandth time. he took a quick bathroom break and you wanted to scare him when he came back, so you hid somewhere he couldn’t see you. but you happened to overhear a phone call between him and his friend.

- “i’m telling you kenshi, this one is special. i really like them. a lot. i don’t think i want our relationship to be fake anymore. they’re just so understanding, and fun, and hot! but i don’t know. i don’t know if they like me too.” johnny admitted over a call.

- you were shocked. he actually had feelings for you too. you immediately came out of your hiding spot and confronted him.

- “oh shit. you heard that?!” johnny cursed.

- but his panic died down as soon as you admitted your feelings too. neither of you admitted your relationship was fake at first, but neither of you cared about the media anymore. because your love is real and genuine now.

kung lao: coffee shop au

- there was a coffee shop you owned and worked at in your village.

- it was pretty successful, and you got quite a few customers every day. it wasn’t too exciting though. at least until kung lao walked in for the first time.

- he was immediately attracted to you at first sight.

- he and raiden had to find a different place to rest at after work that day, since madam bo’s was temporarily closed.

- kung lao walked inside, not expecting anything exciting. until he saw you behind the counter. your eyes sparkled and your smile grew when you greeted him and raiden, offering them a seat and asking them what they wanted to order. he couldn’t even think straight. he was so lost in your eyes.

- “what can i get you two?”

- “uh. um. uhhh… i’d like uh…. coffee?”

- “what kind?” you sweetly asked.

- “coffee.” he blurted.

- you didn’t know he liked you, you honestly thought he was just indecisive. you were very patient with him though, since you thought he was cute.

- raiden instantly saw how kung lao was speechless at the sight of you, and teased his friend about it.

- “you like them, huh?”

- “what? psh, no.. maybe… so?”

- raiden came up to you while you were making the coffee, and let you know about his friend’s interest.

- “i think kung lao has a bit of an interest in you… but you didn’t hear it from me!” raiden whispered.

- the cute guy in your shop had an interest in you? yeah, sure. you didn’t really believe him. but a part of you hoped it was true.

- kung lao took his sweet time in the shop, and stayed for hours before it closed. even after raiden left, he still stayed just to talk to you. he kept ordering coffee over and over so he had an excuse to stay.

- before it closed, you asked him how the coffee was. clearly he really liked it because of how much he ordered it, right?

- “actually… i’m not a fan of coffee. i just wanted to talk to you.” kung lao admitted.

- thankfully, his efforts did not go to waste. he left the shop with a big smile on his face and a napkin with your number on it. he was definitely going to visit the shop every day now.

- oh and also, he kept that napkin. even years into your relationship, he never threw it away.

raiden: childhood friends to lovers

- you and raiden were friends since you were children. you used to run around the fields of your village together and play games without a care in the world.

- you both remained friends all the way to adulthood, even though you didn’t get to talk often since you had moved away and you wrote letters to one another every now and then. but you decided to move back home one day.

- upon seeing how you look now, he was pleasantly surprised. you looked absolutely amazing.

- you decided to catch up with one another, still getting along and sharing stories and memories you had with each other. it’s almost as if you never left. you were even meeting up every day.

- “it’s almost as if you never left. you know, you look amazing.” raiden complimented.

- “thanks, raiden. you look great too! especially when you come back from a long day in the fields, i can clearly see some muscle there. you put in a lot of work, huh?” you teased, making him blush.

- “well, uh, i do my best. i know what i do makes the village thrive. but.. i didn’t know you noticed. and i didn’t know you were looking at my uh, muscles.” he replied, slightly exposing you.

- that pretty much continued for a few weeks, as you both were slightly flirting but neither of you actually made the first move. but one day, raiden finally gained the courage to confess to you.

- he woke up early that morning to freshen himself up and give himself a pep talk in front of his bathroom mirror.

- “okay, you can do this raiden. just tell them how you feel. can’t be that hard…” he told himself.

- he rushed to buy goods and some candy for you, preparing a basket full of it. he was ready to confess his feelings to you.

- he showed up at your doorstep, and raiden was thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong. maybe you were in a bad mood? maybe he bought too much candy? was he shaking? did his hair look nice?

- “raiden? what’s up?” you asked, answering the door.

- “listen, i uh.. i like you. a lot. i really enjoyed being your friend all these years, but i fell in love with you over these past few weeks. i couldn’t stop thinking of you pretty much every day, it was like i was put under a spell. but i suppose, in a way, i was. you have bewitched me body and soul. i haven’t felt this way for anyone before.” raiden admitted.

- he kind of rambled a bit, but you understood exactly what he meant. you felt the same way.

- raiden was extremely relieved that you reciprocated his feelings. you both went on to have a happy, safe relationship. you wouldn’t change it for the world.

rain: rivals to lovers

- rain was a mage. and so were you.

- however, he mastered the ways of water. you mastered fire. they don’t go together.

- “my water will put out your flames.” rain threatened.

- “oh no, a splash of water, i’m so scared.” you replied sarcastically.

- you both tried to one-up the other every time you saw each other, refusing to show weakness. you couldn’t even be in a room together without staring each other down the whole time.

- the longer you were rivals, the more tension there was between you. other people even assumed you were dating already.

- you both wanted to be the most powerful mage in outworld. you just couldn’t agree on anything. he was so annoying, wasn’t he? and the way he would stare at you at every chance he got. the way he always had his full attention on you. even the way he was so dedicated to arguing with you for months.

- until you two finally sparred together.

- “i am tired of you. please shut up.” rain groaned.

- “make me.” you threatened.

- “oh, i will.”

- then, you both ended up fighting for hours. it was an even match. neither of you wished to give up, but you were tired of fighting.

- “listen, rain.. i think we should just admit it’s a tie…” you said, panting between words.

- “you think?” rain sighed, as you both finally stopped fighting.

- you both took a moment to sit down and regain your energy in silence. comfortable silence.

- something was probably in the air, because you were suddenly not fighting. neither verbally nor physically. just.. enjoying each other’s company for the first time in months.

- “you’re… very strong.” rain mumbled.

- “oh? what was that? can you repeat that for me? i don’t think i heard you very clearly…” you teased.

- he rolled his eyes. “you heard me loud and clear.”

- you laughed. “yeah, i did. thanks, zeffeero. you’re pretty strong too. to be honest, i was kind of nervous for this fight. i know we always argue, but i still admire your skills… i guess.” you admitted.

- his eyes widened in surprise. “oh… thank you. i always admired your skills as well. your pyromancy is extremely impressive. perhaps…” he put a finger to his chin. “we should train together instead of fighting.”

- you agreed to his offer and you started frequently sparring together in a friendly way. you even ended up confessing to one another after a few weeks of friendliness, and becoming a powerful couple. you’re both grateful for your rivalry in the beginning, because you have already seen the worst of each other. now, you can see only the good parts in one another.

syzoth: forbidden love

- you were royalty and you were ordered to marry other royalty or at least rich

- when you met syzoth, you immediately fell in love

- “are you sure you want *me,* your highness? i mean, i could never distract you from the throne..” syzoth asked, always feeling insecure.

- “nonsense, syzoth.” you comforted. “i truly love you. i don’t care if you aren’t royalty.”

- but the more you spent time with him, the more terrible you felt, knowing you couldn’t marry him

- but at the same time… it felt so fun. sneaking him inside the palace and trying not to get caught. cuddling in bed at night and talking quietly so you won’t be heard. syzoth turning invisible anytime you heard guards nearby. the thrill of it just made your romance more fun.

- until you *actually* got caught. that wasn’t fun.

- your name was dragged through dirt for being in love with a zaterran. you were shunned from your family. but that didn’t stop you from being with him.

- “your highness, please, don’t risk the throne for me. you shouldn’t be seen with me anymore. i do not wish to make you suffer.” syzoth begged. he didn’t want to leave you, but he didn’t want to see your life fall apart because of him.

- “i don’t care. you make me so happy, syzoth. you love me for who i am, and i do the same for you. i have no problems with giving up my status for you. besides, you aren’t ruining my life. you’re making it so much better.” you reassured.

- but it turns out, you got to keep your throne. you threatened to leave your palace and give up your royalty, but your family didn’t want that. so they reluctantly let you have syzoth as your consort, even though half of the kingdom wasn’t very pleased with that. you didn’t care. you were just glad you don’t have to keep your lover a secret anymore.

shang tsung: partners in crime (it’s not rlly a trope but who cares)

- shang tsung ? dedicated to someone and working alongside them ? what is this sorcery…

- it’s self explanatory. you and him are just a power couple. you fight alongside one another and you help him come up with plans.

- anytime one of you gets in trouble, the other helps. you’re just two troublemaking lovers bent on destroying the people around you. it’s a surprisingly healthy relationship considering the fact that you both ruin lives and kill people daily.

- shang tsung is devoted to you. he would kill for you without hesitation. and he expects the same from you. he sees you as his equal and he expects you to always be there for him and support his decisions, no matter how twisted they are. he does listen to your input and opinions, but that doesn’t mean he takes orders from you.

- oh remember how you both kill people together? he loves your strength. he loves how you look when you kill people. all his favorite memories with you are when you kiss while standing on the dead bodies of his enemies.

- “darling, you look absolutely ravishing. but must you be so messy?” shang tsung asks, pointing at your blood-stained clothes.

- “thank you, my love. i know i was a bit messy, but don’t you think it’s a representation of our hard work? our art?” you reason.

- shang tsung smiled at your explanation. “you have a point. you’ve always been so good at winning me over.”

- even when he was almost locked up outworld. if it wasn’t for you, he probably would’ve been executed.

- you noticed he never came home one day, and you knew something was up, you felt it in your gut.

- you went around outworld, specifically sun do. you wore a disguise and simply walked around, hoping someone would mention seeing him. considering the fact that you and him are both very recognizable faces in outworld, someone must’ve seen him.

- “did you hear shang tsung is finally lock up in sun do’s prisons?” you hear a merchant say.

- in prison? he got caught? whatever, you can lecture shang tsung later. you had to save him first.

- you broke into the prison at night, knocking out every umgadi soldier you saw. they definitely will try to find you when they wake up, but that didn’t matter to you. all that mattered to you at the moment was that you had to free your lover.

- “amazing work, darling.” shang tsung praised, as soon as he saw you in front of his cell.

- “praise me later, i’ll break you out now.” you whispered, hoping no other umgadi showed up.

- you both ran out the palace, not caring about whatever destruction you caused in the process of escaping.

- that whole scenario happens at least once every few months now. you always have to save his ass every time shang tsung gets put in a jail. in return, he grants you freedom and his love. he hopes someday he can rule the realms with you by his side as his consort.

- for now, he must be patient. his dream will come true someday, but for now, he is content with always being on the run with you. living a couple years of crime with his beloved doesn’t bother him one bit.

smoke: grumpy x sunshine

- smoke is not a completely soft, happy-go-lucky guy. he is a brave fighter that puts his strength and energy into the shirai ryu. however, he’s still extremely kind to his loved ones.

- when he met you, he was confused about your cold, almost angry exterior. it almost gave him flashbacks to the way bi-han treated him when he was a child.

- thankfully, you weren’t that bad. you weren’t mean, just distant and occasionally emotionless. smoke made it his personal mission to help you prove yourself non-intimidating now that you were a couple. especially because you were very soft in private.

- people were usually confused when they found out you two were together. how can someone as kind as tomas choose to be with you? you’re total opposites.

- he always defended you from your doubters. he gets annoyed when someone puts your name in their mouths. if only they understood you. if only they put in the effort to get to know you, they’d understand.

- but you reassured him that you can’t control what other people think. he knows you’re right, but he still can’t help but wish other people would stop judging you just because you ‘look’ mean.

- “i just wish they would see you for who you are. i know you aren’t rude. you’re just.. a bit distant.” smoke sighed.

- “don’t stress about it, tomas.” you reassured, running your fingers through his hair. “i appreciate that you defend me all the time, but it’s kind of my fault. you don’t need to apologize for how i act.”

- however, smoke now has scary dog privileges. (it’s you you’re the scary dog)

- anytime a random person comes up and flirts with him, they see your death stare behind him and immediately run away. even if you aren’t doing it on purpose.

- anytime someone tries to use him for his kindness, you shut them down and defend him. but it’s not that smoke *needs* defending. he’s strong enough, but you still like to step in and defend him just like he defends you.

- he appreciates that you look out for him just like he does for you. you both love each other very much, and he accepts you for who you are. he doesn’t judge you for struggling to express emotions, and he learned to read your emotions in smaller gestures like your body language and your eyes. you are his love, his treasure, his beloved. he just wants you to be happy and safe, no matter what other people say about your relationship.

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cherienymphe · 10 months

Text

Basic Training X (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

“Alright. Time’s up, pretty girl.”

You pouted a bit as Peter’s words reached you, signaling to you that you’d been outside long enough and that you’d have to help get breakfast ready soon. You longingly stared at the pond as you stood up, hating how little free time you were allowed. Unlike you, the other women didn’t need someone standing over their shoulder whenever they stepped a foot outside. Clearly Steve or Peter thought there was still a chance you might try and make a run for it.

That opportunity had long passed.

You straightened, brushing some dirt off of your dress before making your way to Peter. The dark-haired man took your hand with a smile, leaning in and brushing his lips over your cheek as he walked you back to the house. Peter did that a lot more as of late. Taking your hand, kissing your face, just touching you in any small harmless way. You didn’t know how to feel about it at first, seeing it more as the price you had to pay to keep Peter so close.

…but just like his presence became a comfort, so did the feel of his hand in yours.

Steve was standing at the back door as you both neared the house, and you held Peter’s hand tighter. You relaxed only slightly when Peter squeezed your hand, and you did your best to avoid Steve’s gaze. Sometimes you wished that you were capable of what Steve clearly thought you were. At least then all of his scrutiny wouldn’t be in vain.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what he expected from you. You were weak. He’d said so himself that day in the basement when he’d decided you couldn’t even last another day. You were nothing like Natasha or even Margaret, something that was a great source of discomfort for you.

“Why do you think you need to be more like Nat?” Peter had asked you one day when you brought it up.

You’d shrugged.

“I just feel…really…pathetic, sometimes,” you’d mumbled, playing with your fingers and avoiding his gaze.

Peter had taken your face into his hands, looking almost sad as you voiced your insecurity. You both knew why you wished you were more like the beautiful redhead, but Peter didn’t say anything about that. He’d simply pressed his lips to your forehead, keeping them there as he talked.

“You’re you, and that’s why I like you,” he’d whispered against your skin. “If I had wanted anyone else… If I’d wanted someone more like Nat, I would’ve swiped her before Bucky had the chance to.”

That was when you learned that like Jane and Thor, Bucky and Natasha had known each other before this too. Such a thought hurt your heart, and you couldn’t imagine the betrayal she’d felt. Peter had mentioned something about them knowing Natasha since she was a kid, her having grown up in this town too. That level of betrayal had clearly made her heart harden against Bucky in the beginning instead of having some softness for him, leading to her being down in that basement for literal months.

It also explained why Bucky had seemed very upset when he mentioned it.

Natasha was still quiet around you these days, but you couldn’t help but notice that ever since she’d learned the truth about how you were taken, she wasn’t so…harsh. Before, where you could tell that she was that way for your own sake, just wanting you to fall in line for your benefit, now, you could see the patience and understanding in her eyes. They all seemed much more careful around sharp objects, now, having clarity on that incident in the kitchen with the blood.

You didn’t know how to feel about that either.

On the one hand, you didn’t feel so alone anymore. It’s not like you talked about it, but it felt good to be surrounded by people who not only knew what you’d been through, but who also cared. The silent support did make things a little easier. On the other hand, though, you didn’t think that you liked being pitied. You weren’t the only victim in this scenario, and you felt wrong being treated like the only one.

What about Jane who’d liked Thor before he kidnapped her? Or Natasha who’d grown up in this town, who’d grown up with Bucky and the rest, and was betrayed by a man she thought was her friend? Several men that she thought were her friends. To you, their situations seemed just as traumatic.

Even Margaret, whose origin with Steve you didn’t know, still had to live in a perpetual state of fear of being brutally raped by that man for all to see over the smallest of infractions. You helped Laura in the garden as the other woman walked around the property with her daughter. She cooed at her and looked as happy as could be, but you often wondered how much of it was fake for the sake of survival or how much of it was real as a conditioned way of coping? There were many times you leaned towards the latter…

…and there were many times you worried that would be you.

As if you’d conjured him up with your thoughts, you felt familiar hands on your shoulders just as Laura glanced up.

“Hello, Peter.”

The almost robotic way in which they’d all greet Peter anytime he joined you in some household task was almost frightening. Peter allowed you to be so casual with him, and you were reminded of that day he’d snapped at Jane in the greenhouse. It was a reminder that these women probably knew Peter much better than you did. Some of them had lived in this house with him for years, and they knew a whole other side of Peter that you didn’t.

“Laura,” he evenly greeted. “What are you and Y/N planting?”

“Just squash seeds,” she replied. “A personal request from Sam.”

She chuckled as she recalled when Sam had run into you both earlier. He’d seemed very enthusiastic about growing the vegetable, and Peter hummed at that. You felt him rest his chin on your head as you knelt, and if Laura was uncomfortable with his presence, she didn’t show it. You’d kind of gathered that it wasn’t normal for any of the men to be so involved with activities that had been dubbed as something solely for the women in the house.

Peter was just very lenient and accommodating with you.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that Steve didn’t like it very much. If the blond had it his way, you would’ve been in the basement several times over by now, and any whiny request you made of Peter would’ve been answered with a spanking. That train of thought had a spark of gratitude flowing through you, and absentmindedly, you reached up to cover Peter’s hand on your shoulder with your own.

Laura glanced over at the action, but otherwise said nothing.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

Those were the words you woke up to a few days later, eyes blinking open and face twisting in confusion as Peter’s face materialized before you. He hovered over you, one hand pressed into the bed at your side and the other resting on your stomach, playing with your fingers there. You stared at him in silence for an embarrassingly long amount of time. You heard what he said, but you couldn’t quite make sense of the words.

It was your birthday?

You paused to think back on how many months had passed, and with shock, you realized that Peter was right. It was certainly your birthday month, and while you didn’t keep up with the days as well as you would have liked—they all blended together now—Peter had no reason to lie. In fact, you were sure that Pepper had mentioned the date the other day, and you hadn’t even made the connection that your birthday was fast approaching.

The thought made you…sad.

This time last year, you’d been planning that trip with Wanda and MJ and Pietro. You’d been excited to look back on the memories on your next birthday, probably even planning another one. This time last year, you’d been free and cutting a cake that your mom had baked and cleaning up a mess after Pietro had smashed your face into the icing.

Now…

Now, you were in a prison. Your friends were dead, your mom was alone and probably stressing herself into an early grave over you, and you were staring into the face of the man who’d made it all happen. You were celebrating your birthday in a house that you didn’t want to be in and surrounded by people you didn’t want to be near. The thought made your eyes water, and Peter noticed, his face falling as he straightened.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” he quietly wondered, touching your chin. “Why are you crying?”

You tried to hold them back, but your tears spilled over against your will, and your lips trembled.

“I shouldn’t be here…”

Realization hit Peter as he sighed.

“I’m supposed to be with my friends,” you tearfully told him. “…and my mom.”

“I know,” Peter breathed, moving closer and pulling you into his arms.

You pressed your face into his chest, trying to hold in your sobs, but it was no use.

“…but I’m here…and you don’t have to lift a finger today…”

Peter’s voice was soft, hopeful, as he tried to cheer you up.

“We can stay outside as much as you want,” he told you, stroking your back. “…or we can stay in here all day. Anything you want.”

You knew that ‘anything’ had limitations to it, but you still pulled away at the mention of being outside all day. Ever since you could, it was all you really wanted to do. Peter’s smile told you that he could see it in your eyes, and he reached up to wipe your face.

“The girls are going to cook your favorite,” he continued, gently cleaning your face. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It did…and it didn’t, but you nodded anyway.

You were having the hardest time accepting that it was actually your birthday. Even as Peter ran you a bath, something that wasn’t unusual, you still stared at the flower petals in the water in disbelief. When you made it downstairs only to be greeted with well wishes and birthday congratulations, it still didn’t feel real.

Each of the women—and Thor—hugged you, while the rest of the men only cheerfully wished you a happy birthday. It was jarring to see a smile on Steve’s face, and even now, you couldn’t tell if it had been genuine or forced.

You were one year older…and so very far from wiser.

Peter was content to lie in the grass with you by the pond. It was all you really wanted to do, just bask in the fresh air and savor this day before you had to return to household chores and allotted outside time. You could feel Peter playing with your hair and your dress as you laid there, staring at the sky and thinking on how drastically your life had changed in a year.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asked you. “When you’re not crying or asking me to hold you, you’re so quiet…and I always want to know what you’re thinking.”

You blinked, frowning a bit.

“Just how different things were last year,” you whispered. “I feel like…it’s finally hitting me…that I’m going to be here the rest of my life.”

You didn’t sound or feel particularly sad as you said it. Truthfully, you didn’t know what you felt, but you knew that it felt strange. You were lying on the grass with your captor, talking to him like he was a friend while he played with you. The man responsible for your captivity was the same one you confided in. That was something you grappled with every day, and with each day that passed, that fact felt less and less weird.

“I told you…it doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Peter whispered back, his hand on your face. “I’m going to make you so happy.”

You didn’t want Peter to make you happy…but the only other alternative was to live out the rest of your days miserable and angry and scared. You felt like you were being so ungrateful to think like that, noting just how much worse you could have it. Compared to any of the other men, Peter was a Godsend, but he was still the same man responsible for your kidnapping.

You turned to watch him as he sat up, and you watched him reach into his pocket.

“When I went to check on your mom all those months ago…I also got this…”

You didn’t sit up, just watching him as he held a small jewelry box in his hands. The sight of it made your heart jump for multiple reasons, and you didn’t really know what to do as he opened it. As expected, a ring was inside, but it strangely didn’t look like a typical engagement ring. You figured that one would come into play eventually, and you hated how casually that thought passed through your mind.

It was more of a band, yellow gold and dainty. It reminded you of a tree branch—or vine—twisting and curving into a shape. There were golden thorns that caught your eye, reminiscent of a rose bush, and you felt frozen as Peter took your hand. He was careful in sliding it onto your finger, and you soon understood why.

When Peter pulled on it, the thorns dug into your skin, and you hurriedly sat up with a hiss.

“I had this custom made,” he murmured, turning your hand over and admiring the painful piece of jewelry. “You can’t take this off without scratching up your finger and possibly leaving behind a bloody mess.”

He gently played with your fingers, admiring it some more before his dark eyes lifted to meet your gaze. Peter’s expression was entirely serious as he threaded his fingers with yours, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it, his pink lips soft on your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered without breaking his gaze. “…and I want you to be reminded of that every single day.”

He rested his chin on the back of your hand.

“Just like I am every time I look at you…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you took a deep breath.

“You understand…?”

You struggled to swallow, hesitating when he squeezed your finger, pressing the metal thorns into your skin, and you winced.

“Yes,” you told him, breathless. “I understand.”

Peter’s entire demeanor changed at that, a smile dancing along his lips as he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Good,” he whispered, kissing your cheek, now. “Happy Birthday, pretty girl.”

You sat at the table as everyone around you sang.

The cake that Jane and Sharon baked was so pretty. Beautiful even. It looked like something you would’ve seen online and begged your mom to buy before she ultimately decided to just make it herself. It had the appropriate number of candles, and you stared into the flames as the song came to an end.

You felt Peter’s lips at your ear as he urged you to make a wish.

You blinked, eyes burning as you thought about the one wish you knew wouldn’t come true. The ring on your finger felt like a weight was tied to it, a reminder of just who you belonged to and the circumstances surrounding how you’d gotten here. You stared into the candle flames with tearful eyes, wondering what on earth you could possibly wish for.

Freedom was out of the question. There was no doubt in your mind that that would never happen. You considered wishing for happiness, but like earlier, you thought that you didn’t want to be happy with Peter. At least, you didn’t think you did, but living out the rest of your life in misery sounded like hell, like the worst thing that could ever happen.

…and yet, with tears in your eyes, that was what you wished for.

The other women clapped, cheering for you, but you could hear it dying down when your tears spilled over. You didn’t mean to start crying, and like every other time before, embarrassment filled you. You could feel Peter’s hands on your shoulder as he stood behind you, and when you glanced up, your eyes caught familiar green ones. You didn’t miss the concern on Natasha’s face as she eyed you.

You really did try to keep it together, even just for your own sake, but it was harder than it was supposed to be, and when everyone else grew quiet, you didn’t even need to look over to know that Steve’s hard gaze was on you. You wiped your face, but the tears just kept coming, and you heard Peter sigh.

“Here,” you heard Margaret say, her chair moving. “Let’s cut you a piece of-.”

“Sit down, Peggy.”

Steve’s cold voice was loud and clear in the otherwise quiet room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at anyone. It was your birthday, and it was nothing at all like you expected it to be. Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever predicted your birthday—any of your birthdays—being spent surrounded by a household that you were taken and forced into.

When you finally glanced over, you were unsurprised to meet Steve’s cold blue gaze.

“Jane and Sharon spent so much time on your cake…”

You looked down at that, and you felt Peter’s hands tighten on your shoulders.

“You rested the entire day, as you should because it’s your birthday…and you’re crying…?”

“Steve-.”

“You let her get away with too much, Peter!”

You jumped as Steve raised his voice, and you hesitantly looked up as the blond stood. His handsome face was taut, jaw ticking as he looked between you and Peter with anger.

“Tantrums, crying fits, holding her hand with every single chore,” Steve continued. “After everything you—and I by extension—have allowed her to get away with…and she’s still ungrateful…”

Your eyes met Steve’s then, lips trembling as he turned his venomous gaze onto you.

“You still have the audacity to cry like a spoiled brat and for what? Because your birthday isn’t at all what you expected it to be, what…a year ago?”

More tears spilled over at that, and your eyes widened as Steve strode towards you.

“You’re never seeing your friends again, you’re never seeing your family again…”

“Steve,” Margaret murmured.

“It’s high time you accepted that and stopped crying like an overindulgent child.”

With every word that left Steve’s lips, you could only manage to cry harder, and you could hear Peter saying something to him, but it was impossible to make out over the sound of your sobs.

“No, she could have it a lot worse,” you managed to catch. “You’re too lenient, too accommodating, and for what? She’s not in charge, you are.”

You could feel Peter helping you stand, and you stumbled as he pulled you against him.

“If she belonged to me…you know exactly what I’d do to straighten her out...”

The thinly veiled threat had you shuddering, more tears falling as you recalled the memory of Steve and Margaret in the yard that morning. You clung to Peter at Steve’s words, and the brunette held you close.

“Maybe you should remind her of just how bad things could be.”

Steve’s parting words still echoed in your mind when Peter brought you back to your room. He was quick to shut the door behind you both, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t stop crying. Steve’s harsh words combined with the surrealness of your birthday being celebrated in captivity was sending you into a downward spiral.

The worst of it all was that Steve was right. Jane and Sharon had spent so much time on that cake, and it showed. Peter did let you get away with a lot, especially in comparison to the other men, and it could be so much worse for you, but that still didn’t make your situation better.

Nothing about any of this was good.

You could both hear and feel Peter trying to calm you, but it was of no use. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as he rubbed your arms and back, soothing sounds leaving his lips, and the sound of his voice made you flinch for some reason. Pulling away from him, you reached for the ring, hissing when it only served to dig into your skin.

“Y/N, stop- what are you doing?”

Peter’s hands were on yours, stopping you, and you only cried harder.

“Get it off,” you shrieked. “Take it off, take it off!”

“No,” Peter spat back. “You’re mine and-.”

“I don’t want to be yours,” you screamed, descending into a fit of sobs. “I want to go home, and I want my friends, and I want my mom.”

You pressed your hands into your face, stumbling away from Peter.

“I want my mom,” you cried.

The other man was quiet as you sobbed, chest heaving and aching. You scooted back towards the headboard, wiping your face as Peter stared at you with an expression that was unreadable. You couldn’t stop shaking and crying, and you bit your lip when Peter stood. His dark eyes drank you in, glinting with something unknown to you, and you watched him take a deep breath.

“You don’t want to be mine…?” he slowly asked.

You pressed your lips together, looking away.

“You don’t have a choice, pretty girl.”

Unlike all the other times, the term of endearment wasn’t dripping with sweetness. There was an edge in Peter’s voice, and you sniffed as he reached for your hand. He squeezed the ring, making you wince, and Peter softly chuckled to himself.

“Steve was right, you know… Things could be so much worse for you.”

“I know,” you tearfully replied, trying to get your hand free.

“I could take you like some animal for the whole house to see like Steve…” you blinked back tears. “…or maybe I should be like Tony and make you wear a leash when I decide to punish you.”

“Peter-.”

“I’ve been nothing but sweet to you…haven’t I…?”

He looked between your eyes, and you reluctantly nodded.

“…and yet you don’t want to be mine.”

He was still holding your hand, and his free hand came up to rest on the back of your neck. Peter was leaning in, nose brushing yours as he studied your face. He suddenly sighed, his expression falling.

“This was supposed to be a happy day for you,” he murmured, frown deepening. “It’s your birthday…and I spent it with you, they made you a cake… You were supposed to be happy, today.”

You didn’t know how to tell Peter that nothing about this day could be happy. If anything, it was sadder than any other day you’d spent here. It was your birthday…and you were so far removed from the people you loved.

“…maybe it still can be…”

You didn’t really understand Peter’s words until his lips brushed over yours. It took you by surprise, and you jerked, but Peter didn’t seem to mind as he kept kissing you. His hand on the back of your neck kept you from moving anywhere, and when he deepened the kiss, you gasped. Peter took that opportunity to taste the inside of your mouth, and your free hand pushed at his chest.

“It’s your birthday…you shouldn’t go to bed angry on your birthday,” he murmured into your skin as he kissed along your jaw.

“Peter-.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when you found yourself on your back, Peter’s frame covering your own. The dresses and nightgowns you were made to wear were thin, and you felt every bit of Peter as he pressed himself against you. It wasn’t quite registering what was happening, and you felt almost removed from your body as Peter’s hands ran up and down your frame, lips lingering on your neck and jaw and lips. It was only when he started to push your nightgown up did the tears finally collect in your eyes.

“Peter…Peter, wait… Please,” you tearfully pleaded, pushing against him.

He ignored you, fighting against you to get your nightgown off, and your panic only grew as he struggled to undress himself too. One of his hands tangled at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back and baring your throat to him. He grazed his teeth over it, and you shuddered.

“You may not want to be mine…but you are,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear.

His bare chest brushed against your own, and he quietly kept telling you that it was okay as you cried.

“…and accepting that will make things so much easier for you…will make you so much happier.”

You shrieked, nails pressing into his arm and the other hand twisting into the sheets. He was pushing into you, slow and torturous, and it took your breath away, making your chest burn. When Peter was fully settled, fully sheathed into you, filling and warm and throbbing, he took a slow deep breath, like he was savoring the moment and feel of you.

He had you completely pinned beneath him, and you didn’t even try to hold in your sobs.

“Happy Birthday, pretty girl.”

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter Parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #peter parker fanfiction

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demonpiratehuntress · 4 months

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worth the wait

Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

summary - you wait for Law to confess, going through everything ranging from jealousy to frustration, but no matter how you feel, you want him to confess on his own.

warnings - maybe some angst but mostly fluff, this is my FIRST TIME writing for Law so i sincerely apologise if I get him wrong

a/n: i'm still busy with the Sabaody Archipelago arc so im not very accustomed to Law yet but i like him so i wanted to try

You know he doesn't mean to make you feel this way. You know he doesn't intend to make you seethe with anger yet also burn with jealousy and drown in sorrow as you watch the woman flirt with him. You know he has no clue about your feelings, or that the woman is flirting, and you know he doesn't mean to hurt you.

But that doesn't stop those feelings.

You take note of how much prettier the woman is than you, how much bustier and curvier. Law doesn't seem to be the type that goes for looks, but sometimes you cave to insecurity and imagine him being convinced and led off by one of these local whores. And it brings up many unpleasant feelings you wish you could go your entire life without feeling.

Bepo, Shachi and Penguin all sit at the table with you, each one having taken a turn to suggest that you put an end to it by going and telling Law how you feel. But you denied all of them, insisting that Law should be given the opportunity to confess to you on his own if he felt that way, without being forced into it or facing the awkwardness of not reciprocating. If he really felt that way about you, then you wanted him to approach you on his own, when he was comfortable.

Even if you had to hurt longer because of it.

Your eyes lingered on your dark-haired captain as he listened to the woman sitting next to him at the bar, his face showing clear signs of disinterest. Usually Law was quick to tell people to leave him alone if they were bothering him, so you were unsure of what to think. He wasn't interested in her, but he wasn't telling her to go away??

You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you stretched, "Okay, I've had my fun. I'm going back to the Polar Tang." You pushed your chair back and stood. "See you guys later." Before they could protest, you left.

Law turned to watch you go, a frown forming on his lips. He wasn't aware that something had been bothering you, but now he was sure of it. You usually didn't leave until he did, and certainly not without taking someone with you. He excused himself without looking at the woman talking to him, and gestured for Shachi, Penguin and Bepo to follow as he too left the pub.

You sighed as you lay back on your bed, letting your mind wander. You had to reign it back in when your thoughts immediately went to Law and that woman, though, and you tried to think of something else. Taking a deep breath, you looked at your blanket and mindlessly studied the pattern.

A knock pulled you from your bland, and frankly, boring, task. You sighed once more and forced yourself out of bed, going over to open your door. You expected it to be Shachi or Bepo coming to check on you, so you were not ready for who was actually standing there.

"Law?" You frowned, confused.

"Are you alright, (Name)-ya?" The doctor asked, his posture slightly awkward. If you hadn't known him as long as you did, you wouldn't have noticed. "You left a bit early today."

You bit your lip, "Yeah, I just...got a bit tired."

He saw right through your lie, as you should have expected him to.

"Something is bothering you."

"What?" Your eyes widened. "No, nothing-"

He scoffed, "I'm insulted you think I wouldn't notice when one of my crewmembers is bothered by something."

Crewmember. There it was. You tried not to flinch, letting out a shaky breath, "I'm fine, captain. Honest." Before he could press further, you closed the door. That may have not been smart, but you didn't want to tell him the real reason.

Law frowned, but if you didn't want to discuss it with him, he wouldn't force you to.

Law couldn't sleep.

Well, he usually had trouble but tonight was for a different reason. He was kept up by concern for you, and plagued by confusion over what was making you behave so weirdly. He tried to think of every possible thing that might have upset you, but he couldn't connect anything to your behaviour.

Then he recalled what he'd overheard in the pub, the conversation between you, Shachi, Penguin and Bepo that you thought he hadn't heard.

"Maybe you should tell him how you feel."

"No, I can't. I won't. If he feels the same, I want him to tell me on his own terms, when he's ready. No sooner."

That hadn't made sense when he first heard it, and he automatically assumed you were talking about a crush you had on someone, which made an ugly bubble of jealousy grow inside him. But now...

Now it all clicked.

You liked him. You liked Law. But you didn't want to tell him, because you wanted him to be comfortable when he eventually did decide to pursue a relationship with you.

Now at least he knew what to do.

You woke up the next morning feeling groggy and tired. You hadn't gotten much sleep, maybe two or three hours max. Your body protested to you getting up, but you eventually managed to pull yourself out of bed and get ready for the day. You would be leaving the island today, so you needed to go help the others get the submarine ready for departure.

The short conversation you had with Law last night suddenly slipped into your mind, and you internally cringed. That was awkward. You wanted to avoid him, but since he was your captain that was virtually impossible. And it would also be difficult to explain.

You sucked it up and joined everyone else for breakfast.

You didn't get very far with that, since Bepo informed you that Law wanted to see you in his room halfway through your meal. You stiffened, but nonetheless promised to go when you were done.

"Captain?" You swallowed thickly as you stood outside his door and knocked. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," came his familiar voice from behind the door, before it opened to reveal the man who gave you butterflies each and every time you saw him. "Come in." He stepped aside to give you space to walk in.

You avoided meeting his gaze and you stepped into his room, your heart racing at the speed of light. It was causing bile to rise at the base of your throat, but you tried to ignore the nauseated feeling your nervousness was bringing with it.

"Am I in trouble?" You asked anxiously, fiddling with your boiler suit.

"No," he stated simply, before taking a seat at his desk. It was a while before he spoke again, writing something before turning in his seat to face you. He studied your expression, before sighing. "You don't have to look so scared."

You chose not to say anything, casting your gaze to the floor instead.

"(Name)-ya. Look at me."

When you didn't, the doctor got up again and walked over to you. He gently gripped your chin in his hand and moved your head upwards so you could look him in the eye.

"You're very cute when you get shy on me."

Out of all the things you'd expected him to say, that was nowhere on the list. Your eyes widened, heart almost stopping. Your butterflies grew, and fluttered around more wildly in your stomach.

"It took me a lot longer than I thought to figure out why you get easily flustered around me," he began again, "I'll admit I'm not as adept at romance as I am at medicine, or how did Penguin put it?"

"You're book smart, not street smart," you managed to say, laughing a little bit at the jab Penguin had teasingly made at Law, when he thought Law wasn't around.

"Yes, that," Law chuckled, a rare sound that you liked hearing. Then he smiled at you, really smiled at you, and your heart flipped. "So you should have come to me about your feelings. I wouldn't have thought of it as forced if you told me first, considering I have no experience with this." Suddenly he became the nervous one, a side to him you'd never seen before. "There was no way I would confess if you didn't."

You supposed that made sense, and you managed a small smile, "Sorry, captain. I just wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable."

"I..." He bit his lip, "I'm always comfortable with you."

That admission was followed by Law using his grip on your chin to guide your face closer to his, so that he could press his lips to yours. He kissed you lightly at first, testing the waters, then deepened it as soon as you reciprocated the kiss. He dropped his hand to grip both sides of your waist, and pulled you flush against him as your lips moulded together in a slow, passionate dance. You grabbed his upper arms for support, fearing you would fall over from how good the kiss felt, and only when he sensed you might just faint he pulled away.

With a cocky smirk.

"I didn't know I made your knees weak," he teased.

You stuttered and babbled out something incoherent, the brightest blush settling on your cheeks. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he embraced you. He kissed the top of your head, and you sighed contentedly, happy to finally be in his arms.

"Next time, don't wait so long to tell me something so important."

"Okay, but you were worth the wait."

He blushed.

#one piece #op #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #one piece law #one piece trafalgar law

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cosmic-whispers · 10 months

Text

Find Out - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel overhears a conversation you have with your friends where you admit your feelings for him. When he decides to confront you, he finds you in a rather compromising position.

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: kind of a creepy, pervy Az (lol, he watches reader touch herself), secondhand embarrassment, SMUT (oral-both, shadow play hehe)

A/N: ngl, writing has been tough lately. I feel like I’m just trying to push words out and it’s taking forever to get anything out. Anyways, this is cute, I guess, but still not sure how I feel about it. This was inspired by a request i got. I hope you enjoy 6.7k works of Azriel just buffering and being a mess and a little bit of a creep (but we can’t stop loving him). Also, this is nasty. Enjoy!

The light, crisp breeze of the summer evening caressed your cheeks and gently blew your hair back as you made your way down the streets of Velaris. The setting sun set the world alight in golden hues and you cherished the last rays of sun as you made your way home to the Townhouse.

Nesta, Emorie, and Gwyn had invited you to your first official girls night with them and the excitement had been building since earlier that morning. Having known the Inner Circle for less than two months, you were filled with appreciation at your new friends’ kindness to include you. You had finished their book recommendation and came prepared with an extensive list of notes about the characters, the romance, and the spice. You were promised a fun night full of delicious wine and riveting conversations.

You approached the house, the excitement adding a spring to your step. You were ready to relax and have fun, it had been entirely too long and you had been working entirely too hard. The rustle of flapping wings caught your attention and you turned, watching as Azriel descended from the sky, clad in his leathers and shadows swimming around him. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he landed in front of you, wings spread magnificently behind him and his siphons bathing him in a gentle blue light.

You smiled at him as he approached you and he offered you a tired grin in return.

“Hello, Azriel,” you said, looking up at him as he stood before you. “Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back,” he said. His deep voice and the way his eyes remained on yours made heat rise to your face and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from admitting just how much you missed him. He had been away for the last two weeks on a mission from Rhysand, and it was too long of a time to go without his kindness and soft smiles.

He leaned down towards you and pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist and giddy excitement spread through you. Your own hands wrapped around his shoulders and he heaved a sigh, burrowing his face into the side of your neck. You knew he could hear the rapid pounding of your heart and were grateful that he didn’t mention it.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your neck. His warm breath spread across your skin and you shuddered in his arms, engulfed entirely in him and the scent of cedar and mist. You wished you could stay in his arms forever.

“I missed you, too,” you admitted. He let go of you, straightening his spine, and took a step away from you. Tendrils of shadows brushed against your bare arms, making you giggle until their master reeled them back in. He began walking with you the rest of the way to the Townhouse.

“I hope these past two weeks without me have not been too hard on you,” he teased, gently bumping your shoulder.

“It’s been dreadful. Rhysand and Nesta won’t leave me alone without my favorite shadowsinger there to protect me.”

“I believe I’m the only shadowsinger you know.” He smiled playfully at you, his eyes shining with amusement. You smiled back at him, taking the opportunity to admire just how breathtaking Azriel was when he was relaxed and smiling.

“You're in a good mood,” you commented. “I take it your mission went well?”

“Yes, surprisingly,” he commented, although he did not elaborate further.

You decided to press your luck. Curiosity ruled you, and you wondered why Rhysand had you research cult organizations within the continent. You pondered whether that was something that Azriel was sent to handle. “Why did Rhys send you all the way to Montesere?”

“Careful, I might begin suspecting you're a spy sent to infiltrate Velaris,” he teased, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. If you hadn’t known him as well as you did, the slight flicker of amusement in the corner of his lips may have gone completely unnoticed.

“Oh, no, you’ve discovered my evil plot. Is the big, bad Spymaster going to take me to his dungeon?”

You teased him, but the sudden image of you chained in his torture chamber, fully nude, and being punished in rather enjoyable ways flashed through your mind and you nearly gasped out loud.

He leaned down close to your ear and murmured, “keep teasing me, and I just might need to.” His deep, gravelly voice echoed pleasantly in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and adding fuel to the images filtering through your mind. You struggled to formulate a coherent response and gratefulness filled you as you made it to the Townhouse.

He smirked as he opened the door for you, allowing you to enter the home before following after you. You took two steps before being intercepted by your friend. Nesta was smirking at you as she noticed the Illyrian behind you. Although you had never admitted your feelings to her, Nesta had quickly guessed your infatuation with the bat boy trailing behind you. She had tried encouraging you to pursue him but you had always turned her ideas down knowing that he did not feel the same for you.

“Welcome back, Azriel,” she said and he nodded at her in thanks.

“(Y/N),” she said, shifting her attention back to you, “I was going to ask what took you so long, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea now.” Her gaze shifted back to Azriel and you glared at her.

“I lost track of time in the city library,” you said, defending yourself against her.

“Right.”

Azriel still lingered behind you and Nesta shifted her attention back to him. “She’s mine tonight, Spymaster. Find someone else to spend your time with. It’s her first girl’s night and I won’t let anyone interrupt. We’re going to get her to spill all her dirty secrets!”

“Nesta!” you exclaimed, laughing at your friend’s enthusiasm.

“Good luck, (Y/N),” Azriel said and you glanced back up at him. He winked at you and you felt heat rise to your cheeks and ears.

“Thanks, I have a strong suspicion that I’ll need it.”

“You’re both being very dramatic. All she needs is some good alcohol in her system,” Nesta said, taking your arm and pulling you away from the Shadowsinger and into the living room. You glanced back at him one last time, catching his honey gaze. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when he smiled at you and you gave him a quick wave, quickly turning your attention to Emorie and Gwyn, who waited for you with excited smiles on their faces.

—--------*-----------

Sleep would not claim Azriel. The time neared midnight and despite the gathering downstairs, the house was quiet. He had bathed, washing the grime off and felt infinitely better. Yet, when he laid down, he found himself wide awake, rushing thoughts infiltrating his mind. Thoughts of you infiltrated his mind full speed. He could not stop thinking about you, and the ache that he felt in his heart every time he saw you. He tried to drown the image of you smiling by concentrating on thoughts of his successful mission and all the useful information he had gathered, but his concentration would wane entirely too quickly back to you.

He decided on a midnight snack, hoping something sweet and perhaps a boring book would lull him to sleep. He descended the stairs silently, pajama pants hanging lowly on his hips and his bare chest exposed.

He made his way toward the kitchen, steps as silent as the night, until your sweet laugh stopped him short.

“Pour her more wine!” he heard Emorie exclaim and the sound of liquid pouring into glass followed.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Nesta teased. “I already know you have a crush on him. You just have to admit it to all of us.”

His heart stopped in his chest, shock washing over him like ice water. You had feelings for someone? A ripple of anger surged through him as he imagined this unknown, faceless male that had stolen his mate away from him.

He had felt nothing but utter bliss the moment that the bond had snapped for him. You had been working with Rhysand and Amren researching ancient scrolls for a week and he had just returned from a brief stint in the Spring Court. He remembered that summer afternoon, walking into the library in the House of Wind, an unfamiliar scent mixing with the air. He had found you pouring over a massive tome, hair a bit frazzled and an exasperated look on your face. You had looked at him then–the rays of sunshine coming in from the windows making your face gleam. His heart had belonged to you the moment your eyes had met; his admiration for you–his soulmate–quickly turning into love as he got to know you.

And you had no idea.

He had wanted to tell you, but doubts had quickly clouded his judgement. Initially, he convinced himself that you might not be ready for the level of commitment that the bond often implied. But it quickly turned into self-doubt–how could he confess and force the affliction of having him as your mate on to you? He was not worthy of you. And now he was too late. Now, he would be forced to watch you fall in love with someone else.

Your giggle broke him out of his thoughts. “If you already know, then why do I need to say it?”

“Because it’s good to confess your feelings instead of keeping them bottled up,” Gwyn said. “Please, (Y/N), you know I have no interest in a romantic relationship right now. I have to live vicariously through you!”

“Fine,” you said, an exasperated sigh escaping you. You paused for a moment, the clinking of the wine glass chiming softly in Azriel’s ear. His shadows were desperate for release, fighting against their master to go to you, but he reeled them in tightly, unwilling to give his position away.

“You cannot say anything to him. I really like him and I don’t need you three meddling and ruining our friendship.”

“Yes, yes. Now who is it?” Emorie said.

“Mother above, look at how embarrassed she looks; she is so in love!” Nesta exclaimed and you groaned, but did not deny it.

Gwyn squealed and Emorie joined her giggling as they drunkenly promised to keep your secrets.

“Who is it?” Nesta teased.

Azriel knew it was wrong to eavesdrop. He knew he should leave well enough alone and go back to his room and accept any decision you made as long as you were happy. His heart was already shattered within his chest; anything else he heard would just be salt on the wound. But his feet remained firm in their place, his shadows growing deathly silent around him as he waited for your answer. A fucking masochist is what he was.

“You already know it’s Azriel.”

He was stunned into a daze for a moment, before warmth began to spread from his chest to the tip of his fingers and he did not even register the corners of his lips rising into a smile.

“He’s just so kind and sweet and gentle. A little mysterious, but that’s the best part,” you continued, giggling. “He’s made me feel so welcome and he likes spending time with me. I feel like I can be myself around him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s so damn gorgeous. I can barely look at him!”

“I think you should tell him! I see the way he looks at you,” Emorie said. He wanted to hug her.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he feels the same way and I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you said and he rolled his eyes at you. Silly, little thing. How could you not know that you were the single most important thing in his life? How could you not know how his heart beat for you and only you?

“Well, I think you should put your big girl pants on and tell him,” Nesta said. “Just think about all the fun you’ll get to have!”

An image of you, kneeling ass up in his bed, flashed through his mind and he had to fight the dirty thoughts in his head to be able to focus.

“Yes!” Emorie exclaimed. “You know that the size of Illyrian wings correlates with their dick size! If we’re just going off his wings, that male is packing.”

The entire group began laughing and unadulterated male pride surged within him. If only they knew how accurate they were.

“I suppose the wings could be fun,” you said and trailed off.

“But?” Gwyn asked, baiting you into answering and Azriel vowed to get her that book she had been talking about non stop.

You giggled before answering. “But I’ve always wondered what he can do with those little shadows.”

The squeals and laughter grew loud. He heard a chair being pushed back, and quickly drew back up the stairs and into his bedroom without a sound, a smile etched on his face.

This was not like him. The regularly stoic, unfeeling Spymaster of the Night Court felt giddy. He knew that the bond had not snapped for you yet. You were falling for him entirely on your own and he felt his heart swell with emotion.

He knew sleep would not come to him that night. While it would usually evade him due to nightmares or too many thoughts, he knew that night would only be filled with the thought of you. You had feelings for him. You fantasized about him. He sat on his balcony, nursing a cup of wine as he looked up at the stars and contemplated the future. He was so damn close to having you.

Your room was across from his, deliberately chosen by Rhys in an effort to get Azriel to get closer to you. He had heard you enter your chambers within the last hour and had to force his shadows to stay put, although he was finding it harder and harder to contain himself. He debated whether to go to you or not.

You had feelings for him–had admitted as much out loud. Yet, apprehension still clung to him. Having a crush on him did not mean that you would accept the bond. Accept him. Perhaps you needed more time to solidify your feelings. Or perhaps he was being a coward and should speak with you, before his opportunity fades away from him.

He stood decidedly and traversed the length of his room with large strides. He crossed the hallway and gently rapped his knuckles against your door before he could second-guess himself. There was no going back.

He took a deep breath as no sound greeted him.

He knocked on the door again, to the same answering silence.

“(Y/N)?” he called out. He slowly pushed the door open, ensuring it was quiet in case you had fallen asleep. Glancing into the room, he found it completely empty. He had not heard you leave and his shadows had not detected you either. A pang of worry worked its way down his spine, before he heard a sound from the adjoining bath room.

“Mmm.” It was your voice, low and husky and full of pleasure. He froze on the spot, blood rushing to his face and further south and he heard his heartbeat loud in his ears. He was hardly conscious of his legs, moving him closer and closer to the door until he was standing right in front of it. He stared at the dark wood, imagining what sight would greet him if he opened the door.

You moaned once more and he gasped as the husky scent of your arousal reached his nose. It was making him slightly delirious, and he rested his head against the wooden surface of the door, trying to compose himself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but realized too late that it had been a mistake. Your heady scent invaded every crevice of his brain and it felt like he was a hormonal teenager again, nothing in his brain except you. He reeled his shadows tight to himself, despite their clear desire to go to you. They angrily buzzed around his body, begging him to release them. His hand made it to the front of his pants, rubbing the throbbing erection through the soft material of his pants.

It was wrong. It was so wrong. It was a complete invasion of your privacy, but he could not find it within himself to walk away.

“Yes, Azriel,” you sighed and it stopped the movement of his hand short, the sound of you moaning his name lighting every nerve ending of his body on fire. It’s almost like you were a siren, summoning and enticing him and he took the bait without thought or hesitation. His hand wrapped around the handle of the door and he slowly turned it, pulling it open and making his way silently past the threshold.

You were enveloped in the giant, ivory tub in the center of the room and faced away from him, not noticing him inside. He stayed where he was near the entrance and observed you. Your head rested back against the rim of the tub, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure, mouth opened as panting breaths escaped you. Your wet skin glistened in the faelight and he was entranced.

You looked ethereal–like a goddess personified into flesh right before his eyes. He glanced at the mirror that stood in front of you, nearly gasping out loud at the sight of your pert nipples peeking out from the surface of the bath water. Your hand was submerged, arm moving in a quick, controlled movement as you brought pleasure to yourself.

Gods, you were perfection. Everything about you enthralled him, excited him, and he wanted to own every part of you and for you to own every part of him. He yearned desperately for you.

Your panting grew rapid, the moans escaping you more frequently now and he knew you were on the verge of your orgasm. His eyes remained glued to the reflection of your face, taking in every detail, every movement, every expression you made as you hit your peak. Your back arched, exposing your full breasts to his desperate gaze and he nearly came in his pants from the sight alone.

Your body relaxed into the water and you sighed in satisfaction. Your eyes opened lazily as a delighted smile grew on your face. Looking forward, you froze as your gaze met his in the mirror. His breath caught in his chest as you gasped loud, submerging yourself further into the water and turning your body to face him. Shit.

Your eyes were wide and your heartbeat had increased. He could almost feel the heat burning beneath your skin in embarrassment as you looked at him in shock. He tried to think of something to say, but panic began building inside of him and clouding his mind.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you screeched.

He was frozen in shame. He should have never invaded your privacy like this. He regretted it. He did not know what possessed him to follow his primal instincts, but he cursed himself as he was unable to speak.

“Well?” you asked, and he could feel your embarrassment slowly shifting into anger.

“Do you normally spy on naked females?” Your tone was sharp and your lips were downturned into a frown. He could practically sense your body vibrating with unleashed wrath.

His cheeks burned bright red in embarrassment. He wished to explain himself–that he did not come to you with the intention of catching you in a vulnerable position. He simply wanted to speak with you. Encourage your feelings. But the sight of you…Your upper chest and shoulders were exposed, wet, and glistening in the dim lighting. Your hair was soaked, pushed all the way back and the curve of your neck was exposed to him, taunting his control. Your eyelashes were darkened, making your eyes all the more piercing. He was absolutely enchanted.

Azriel was a clever male. He was quick-witted and smart and knew his way out of most situations. But with you, he found himself absolutely struck dumb. His mind was blank, even as he begged himself to say something. To say anything.

You were growing impatient. You breathed a sharp sigh through your nose and your frown deepened. Azriel wanted to punch himself when the only thing he could think of was how pretty your mouth was and how desperate he was to have it wrapped around his length.

“You have about 3 seconds to explain yourself before I completely lose my shit and kill you.”

He knew you couldn’t kill him. It was laughable to even think of you trying. But the anger in your eyes scared him and he feared he would ruin any chance he had with you. He would never jeopardize your friendship, even if after today you decided you would never give him a chance, he needed you in his life. He could not lose you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathless and absolutely captivated. “I didn’t know you were bathing–I came to speak to you. I heard a noise, so I came in and…I’m sorry.” Not the most eloquent, but at least he was able to get the words out, despite his tight throat and heavy breathing.

“What did you want to speak to me about that was so pressing you had to walk in on me and stay?” you questioned, anger still lingering in your expression, but you weren’t banishing him away.

“I overheard you tell the girls that you have feelings for me.” Your anger shifted into shock for a moment, before turning back into embarrassment. You broke eye contact with him, looking away, eyes panicked and eyebrows scrunched together in worry. He wanted to comfort you, but within seconds, your expression stilled, morphing back into anger and you turned your eyes back to him.

You glared at him, anger and indignation seeping from you. “Well, if you wanted to turn me down, save it. I never expected anything from you. Now, please leave.”

He wanted to laugh, but knew that you would not take it well. Turn you down? He would be the most foolish male in the whole of Prythian to let you go.

“How could I ever turn you down when you’re all I ever think about?” You were silent at his confession, and your glare softened. “How could I ever turn you down when I have been in love with you since the second that I met you? How could I ever turn down my mate?”

You were stunned, eyes widening and you stared at him, unblinkingly.

“...Your mate?” you said. Your voice sounded small and the vulnerable expression on your face nearly broke his heart. “How long have you known?”

“It snapped for me the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t want it?”

“Of course I want it,” he said and took a step toward you. You didn’t stop him. You stared at him, your beautiful eyes wide and lined with unshed tears. “You’re everything I ever dreamed of and more. I wanted you to feel it on your own time. I didn’t want to pressure you. I know that I come with a lot of baggage and that I don’t deserve your love. And I’m sorry about this. I’ve just dreamt about seeing you like this for so long. I’ve imagined what your skin would feel like, your lips…”.

He knew he was rambling and finally decided to have some self-preservation. “I’m so sorry for invading your privacy, (Y/N). I’ll leave now.”

He turned away in shame, taking a step toward the door before your soft voice stopped him.

“Find out,” you breathed. His gaze found you again, your eyes softened and a small smile played on your lips.

He grew nervous and he felt his throat tighten. His shadows coiled around him anxiously waiting.“What do you mean?”

“How my skin feels like, my lips…”

You stood, droplets of bath water sliding down smooth, soft skin. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest as he traced a drop down between your breasts, down your navel, and down to the curls between your thighs. You stood bare before him–the most exquisite sight he had ever beheld. Your breath quickened, drawing his attention back to your perfect breasts. He envisioned himself walking up to you, taking a peak into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the supple skin.

“(Y/N).” He sighed your name, quietly and reverently. His gaze returned to your face, piercing eyes meeting yours and every fiber of his being felt like it was being lit on fire.

He took a step towards you, his hand extending out as if to touch you, but he pulled it back. His shadows and wings were held taught against him, and his body nearly vibrated at having you this close and completely vulnerable before him. You stepped out of the tub and on to the plush rug on the floor and took a step toward him. He stared, afraid to move or even blink, as you approached him and closed the distance between you. This had to be a dream, a vivid fantasy his cruel mind was inventing. But you stood in front of him, real, completely naked and dripping wet and he was painfully hard beneath his pants.

“Find out,” you murmured, close enough that your warm breath brushed against the skin of his bare chest. Before he was aware of what you had done, your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, bringing him closer and you pressed your lips against his.

He froze for a moment, shock overtaking him before elation began growing and spreading throughout his being. His arms came up, wrapping around your bare waist and he pulled you closer to him as he began to eagerly kiss you back. He was addicted, your taste and the softness of your lips against his overwhelming his senses. He could not think. All he could smell was you. All he could hear was your breathing and the beating of your heart. All he could feel was the pleasant heat between your lips and the warmth of your skin on his.

He could not stop his hands from roaming your skin, large hands touching any part of you he could get to, savoring the feeling of you in his arms. His touch reached the plump skin of your ass and he could not help but to give the meaty flesh a squeeze. You moaned, the sound like heaven to his ears, and he took the opportunity to dive his tongue into your mouth. Your arms squeezed him tighter to you, pulling him down to your height. His hands slid to your thighs and he stood up straight, carrying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He stepped forward, pressing your back against the floor length mirror on the wall and his lips began to trail the delicate skin of your neck. You sighed, going pliant and melting into his arms.

“You said my name,” he murmured against you, one of his hands roaming to your front. The feel of your breast in his hand left him nearly breathless.

“What?” you gasped as he bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder. Fuck, you were delicious. He could not get enough of you.

“Were you thinking of me while you were touching yourself?” he teased. He pressed his hips against yours and pinched your nipple; your gasp and the slight friction made a shiver run down his spine. Excitement, hope, and love flooded his senses as he finally had you in his arms.

“You weren’t supposed to see,” you said sheepishly, turning your face away from him in embarrassment.

He took the opportunity and began kissing down your jaw and neck, the soft gasps escaping you exciting him more. His hands returned to your thighs, hoisting you higher in his embrace and he attached his mouth to your nipple. You were mesmerizing, absolutely beautiful and his heart beat hard in his chest. He could not wait to drown in the silkiness of your skin, the feel of your hands on his body, your kisses, your essence…He was starving for you.

He licked at your skin, sucking the delicate nub and pinching it between his teeth, your soft sounds encouraging him. Your hands gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into the skin and he shuddered at the stinging pleasure.

You moaned as he sucked on your nipple hard, and your hands began to wander the exposed skin of his chest, your small fingers traveling the terrain with purpose, dipping along his muscles and caressing his tattoos affectionately. He savored the feeling of you touching him, your warmth, how it felt to have you in his arms. His heart beat erratically in his chest and he feared you would put an end to it. He feared you would never allow him this close to you again. So he took his time to memorize you, so that if nothing else, he could have this night for the rest of his life.

Your hands traveled up his neck, and you tilted his jaw up. He looked up at you in awe as you leaned down and pressed your lips against his once more. Your kiss was addicting–soft and passionate, desperate and accepting. He barely registered your hand sneaking down and pushing his sweatpants down his hips, leaving him just as bare as you were.

You wiggled in his arms and he lowered you, leaning down and keeping his lips pressed firmly to yours. His tongue pressed at the seam of your lips and you breathed a laugh as you broke apart from him. He almost whimpered at the loss of your lips.

“Fuck, Az, you’re so hot,” you mumbled as you began pressing kisses down his chest. His hands clung to your shoulders and he hissed as you bit his nipple. You giggled, smiling up at him cheekily.

“Fucking tease,” he growled.

“Should I make it up to you?” you asked, sinking down to your knees in front of him.

Shock flew throughout his body as you pressed your mouth against his cock, hands coming up to wrap around him. Soft, tiny licks to his shaft made him twitch in your hands and you smiled up at him. You gently sucked the tip into your mouth and his heart stuttered in his chest.

“Sweetheart,” he started, his voice tight and restrained. Despite wanting desperately to fuck into your mouth with reckless abandon, he didn’t want you to feel forced to do this for him. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” you murmured. The vibrations of your voice traveled along his cock, up his spine, and caused his brain to malfunction for a moment. “I want to.”

Before he could formulate a response in his mind, you sucked his cock into your mouth, deep into your throat and your hands gripped whatever you were not able to stuff inside of your mouth.

“Fuck!” He had died. He had ascended to the heavens, he was sure of it. This was the most exquisite, erotic experience of his life. You began dragging your mouth to the tip and back up the shaft; the suction of your mouth and the tightness of your throat was pure perfection. He could hardly believe that you were real. His hand came up and wrapped around your hair, desperate for anything to ground him to the earth.

He stared at your face and your eyes shifted up, looking at him through your lashes and he groaned at the sight of just how deep you were taking him.

“Stop,” he begged. He needed you to stop before he was not able to contain himself any longer. He wanted to be inside of you when he came.

You ignored his plea, suctioning your cheeks in and sucking him harder. He felt his balls tighten and he whimpered.

“Fuck, please,” he groaned and pulled your hair hard, tugging your head back and away from him. You moaned and your eyes sparked with interest at his roughness. Interesting. He made a mental note to explore that in the future with you if he ever got the chance.

“I need to fuck you,” he said, leaning down and gripping your hips, lifting you in his arms once more. He carried you with ease to the countertop, sitting you on it and slotting himself between your legs. You hissed at the coldness of the marble beneath you, but it didn’t stop you from kissing him again. He wrapped his arms fully around you, engulfing you in him as his wings dipped forward. You fell pliant in his arms and for a brief moment, the exhilarating thought crossed his mind that you would let him do anything he wanted to you.

With you distracted, he took the opportunity, sending his shadows to pin your legs to the marble beneath you and your arms to the mirror behind you. You gasped in shock as he broke away from you, taking a few steps back and observing you.

“Azriel?” you gasped, looking at him with love-drunk eyes. He did not answer, taking the time to drink you in. Your perfect face, desperation clinging to your expression. Your breasts were on full display for him. His eyes wandered further down your exquisite figure, stopping at your glistening cunt. You were completely exposed to him.

“You wanted to know how I use my shadows during sex,” he stated and you gasped, embarrassment flooding your features as you realized that he had overheard more of your conversation than you expected. “You’re about to find out.”

His shadows spread across the expanse of your body as Azriel stood firmly planted where he stood, observing the delectable sight before him. The shadows curled around your nipples, twisting them and pinching them and you let out a cry of pleasure, arching your back. He sent more of them lower on your body, softly caressing the seam at your center and you whined.

“How does it feel?” he asked, wanting to know just how good you felt.

“It’s so good Azriel,” you moaned. The shadows at your cunt squeezed against your clit and you screamed, your chest rising rapidly as you became breathless.

“I-I”ve never felt anything like this,” you nearly sobbed. Your wetness dripped out of you, and he watched in cruel anticipation as your body writhed–right on brink of climax from his shadows alone.

“Azriel, please, I need you.” He chuckled lowly at your plea for him. He had no intention of touching you just yet.

“Is that it?” he taunted. “I think you can do better than that.”

You yelled in pleasure as his shadows gave a particularly tight pinch on your clit.

“Azriel! Please! Please, I need your cock inside of me, I need to touch you. I need you to fuck me, please!” you cried out, just before hitting your peak. You groaned loudly as you arched your back. Your cum squirted out of you and he groaned, taking quick strides towards you and stuffing his face into your pussy, desperate for a taste of you. He drank your sweet juices and his tongue rubbed relentlessly against your clit, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible.

He slowly called his shadows back to him, releasing you from their hold and he crawled his way back up your body, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss on your lips.

“Someone’s a desperate, little slut,” he said and you smiled, leaning into him and nipping his lip.

“Only for you,” you said, and spread your legs open, revealing your messy cunt to him once more.

He stared for a moment before you gripped his face and brought his attention back to your face. “Well? Are you going to give this desperate, little slut what she wants?”

He was blown away at your insolent, bratty attitude. The normally shy, quiet, sweet girl was gone, replaced by a wild, untamed goddess of sex and beauty. He wanted to tease you, but he was absolutely mesmerized and knew he needed to fuck you, desperate for the feel of you and for his release.

He lined himself up at your entrance and slowly slid inside of you. Your eyes rolled back and you tilted your head back in pleasure as every inch of his dick slowly slid into your tight hole. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The heat, the tightness, the wetness was driving him wild and he wanted to rut into you recklessly. But he went slow until he bottomed out. You were stuffed to the brim, his head nestling tight against your cervix.

He began fucking into you in earnest, the friction driving him delirious. He craved every single touch you surrendered to him. He wished to be so deep inside of you that he did not know where one ended and the other began. The golden string tying his soul to yours sang in his chest, bright and unyielding, and it brought tears to his eyes as the floodgates of the bond suddenly opened, your emotions of pleasure and admiration and love flooding into his heart.

Your eyes widened, tears lining them and you smiled brilliantly at him.

“My mate,” you whispered, feeling the bond open on your end. He returned your smile, unbridled and open, and the bond between you glowed–incandescent and fierce and all-consuming.

He surrendered to his emotions, fucking into you with abandonment and a newfound ferocity. You screamed in pleasure and you clenched around him, making him gasp. The sight of your face, contorted in pleasure, the glow of your skin, still damp and gleaming with sweat, your scent intermingled with the unmistakable musk of sex, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapping around him and accommodating his impressive length perfectly–it was all too much for him.

He was hanging on the precipice, determined to bring you to your high before falling off the edge. He was so close and so were you. He never thought he would ever feel such pleasure from sex. Sex had always been good, great even. But with you, it was something else entirely. With the golden thread now formed between the two of you, the feeling of your pleasure increased his tenfold and his heart swelled with uncontrollable love. No one would ever compare to you–he would never want anyone else.

You sobbed in pleasure as your pussy clenched tight around him and you came with a scream. Your arms clutched him to you, and he groaned loudly as your walls fluttered around him. His pleasure built to a peak and his vision went white as he came inside of you. He buried himself to the hilt, as deep as he could go and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, your entire body pressed against him.

The room was silent for a few moments. Azriel pressed his head against your panting chest, your breathing and the beat of your heart a comforting rhythm in his ear. Your hand gently ran through his hair, playing with the soft strands and gently combing through the tangles.

He looked up at you and found your eyes already fixed on him. He smiled softly and pressed a kiss against your jaw.

“I’m sorry I was creeping on you,” he said sheepishly.

You laughed and leaned down to press a kiss against his head. “I’m sure I can think of some ways you can make it up to me. Maybe I’ll have to tie you up and force you to watch me pleasure myself all night long.”

He glared up at you. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” He couldn’t wait to find out.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic

993 notes · View notes

azullumi · 10 months

Text

“the type to…” ; anemo boys

details — he’s really just this type of guy.

characters — heizhou, kazuha, wanderer, venti, and xiao (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, some of them could be platonic of romantic, no type of relationship stated, not proof-read ; headcanons/scenario

words — 1740

note — decided to let go of a longtime friendship (^^)/

;; 🐚

KAZUHA, the type to wake up in the morning before you and instead of waking you up also, he would rather prefer watching you sleep, admiring each of your features and memorizing the lines on your face, burning the memory in his mind. with the sun already rising, sunlight had seeped into the room, gently laying on the floor and your face like spilled honey. his happiness and peace came in the form of you, in the morning as he watches you sleep before you stir and open your eyes, smiling at him as soon as you see him—“why did you not wake me up?” you would say to him and what could he tell you aside from “i love you”?

KAZUHA, the type to kiss you on your forehead as soon as he sees you rouse up from your sleep, spilling warmth from his lips as he greets you, “did you have a good sleep?” with the most gentle of smiles. he seeps affection into your skin, burying into your bones, leaving traces of him in the crevices of your mind. also the type to often get up before you so he could cook breakfast and bring it to you on your bed as soon as you wake up; “how did you sleep, love?”

KAZUHA, the type to be extremely clingy and affectionate; the type to wrap his arms around your waist and hug you from the behind, burying his face on the skin of your neck and letting out a satisfied sigh with his worries dissipating along with it. but double the clinginess when he’s drunk or upset, he’s affectionately drunk in a way that he clings to you like a koala is to a tree and wouldn’t want you leaving his side—immediately grabs you and pulls you back to him when you try to do so. when he’s upset, however, he tends to be silent and would rather just have you hug him and listen to the sound of your heartbeat which puts him at ease.

;; ⭐️

XIAO, the type who fears for the day where he will yearn for your touch but will never get to feel it again; afraid that he’ll love you forever and will never be able to have you in the same room as him. nothing had made him sadder knowing that one day, he will never see you again. wouldn’t it be weird to say that loving you puts him in such a feeling of grief? he wished he had known you sooner, he wish he was given the opportunity to be by your side earlier, he wished he could have loved you longer than he had known you; “it’s a pleasure to be seen by you.” a mumble, a whisper of confession before a reply came, “thank you for letting yourself be known.”

XIAO, the type to always want to spend time together, whether it’s just in a peaceful moment of tranquility when the two of you are cuddling each other or while you two are doing their own thing while near each other—it’s more like wanting to be by each other’s side more than passing time together. he indulges in the serenity of the silence whenever the moment arrives, it’s like a breath of fresh air, the spring wind that makes the flowers sway and lulls his heart into a gentle rhythm.

XIAO, the type to always hold your hand everywhere, anywhere, even when the two of you are walking, sitting beside or across each other, or whenever the two of you are together in general. the moment he notices the lack of your hand on his, he will take an immediate action to rid of that absence—seeping the warmth of his hand on yours, locking fingers, and giving it a small squeeze. oftentimes, he’ll draw circles on your skin with his thumb. it’s just a subconscious habit that he does whenever he’s way too focused on something. the softness of yours eases his mind and seemingly, all of his problems disappear. there was no solace and meaning in his life but today there was and right now, comfort was found in the lines of your palm and the tenderness of your hand.

;; 🔍

HEIZHOU, the type to make you laugh a lot, a connoisseur of bad jokes, puns, and terrible dad jokes that will never fail to pull a chuckle out of your throat. he has a lot of things to talk to you about, a lot of things to tell you and occupy your ears—he’ll often blurt out trivias that he have discovered, quotes that he have heard and read, and everything. he just tells you so many things, fascinating or anything, and it feels like he’s a walking book of facts and information.

HEIZHOU, the type to notice the smallest things about you. he’s a detective, a man with a sharp mind and keen observation, how could he not notice the way you style your hair a little bit different than usual or the way sadness ghosted over your smile whenever you think of a distant memory—or perhaps it was something along the lines of nostalgia and yearning. he’ll catch on the smallest details of you, etches it in the crevices of his mind and burned in his memory; “isn’t that your favorite color?” he asks, pointing at a flower standing alone in a small patch of grass, and you knit your eyebrows for a moment before turning to look at him, “how did you know?”, which only causes him to shrug, acting as if it was just a lucky guess when it was all because he sees your gaze lingering over a particular shade or noticing the way your features soften at the sight of that particular hue.

HEIZHOU, he always seems to look after you, always there when you’re about to trip and fall, always there to open the jar that is sealed, particularly shut, always there to cheer you up and put a smile on your face, as if he’s meant to be there, as if he’s fated to be by your side; he’s just always there. “aren’t you tired of me? you’re always taking care and looking after me,” curiosity fell from your lips as you murmured, worry lacing your voice. “never,” he whispered back, tenderly, repeating: “not if it’s you.”

;; 🎧

VENTI, the type to dance with you, spinning you around as he watches your hair lovingly swaying along with the wind, and he adores the way butterflies flit inside his stomach as he admires you. moments like this just reminds him of the first time he met you or to be exact, first ever saw you: happiness fluttered around you in a similar way a flower would dance with the wind, and he knew by then he wanted to be around you, that he had to be beside you—your heart is just so full of warmth, it is difficult not to be distracted by it.

VENTI, the type to take you out on dates during the night, treating it as some sort of adventure even though he has everything laid out from his mind—from the time, from the things he’s supposed to say, and to the path you’ll take that will bring you to a hidden spot with the most impressive and stupendous scenery. he’ll have everything prepared there, the blanket, the food, and of course, the wine to which makes you wonder when did he plan all of these although you never raised the question to him.

VENTI, the type to compliment you a lot. never will there be a day that he doesn’t fill your ears with praises—it’s a variety, not sticking to one, and always different each day. he’ll tell you the color you chose for your clothing suits you, he’ll praise your cooking skills even if you think it’s mediocre, he’ll flatter you and the style for your hair, he’ll tell you that he adores your smile every morning and he loves waking up to it, and everything. he doesn’t hesitate in saying such things, is not afraid to convey his affections to you—if only you could truly see yourself in his eyes, breathtakingly beautiful, so. simply, you were just the type of person people would write songs about; “how could you always be so lovely in every single day? even the flowers would envy you.”

;; 🎐

WANDERER, the type of man who you wish the world was kinder to, you would have wished the past would have been easy to him but what can you do? it had already happened, it left scars and wounds on his skin, and all you could do was kiss and murmur words on it, and hope that it would make him feel a little bit better. you could do nothing about his past but only be there for him throughout it all, hoping to create a future that he can look forward to even if it meant you not being there in it; “why are you like this?” he says, seemingly confused and afraid of the gentle unfamiliarity of tenderness and affection.

WANDERER, the type to not credit for anything. he gave you something that you’ve been longing to have? he just happened to got it and thought you might like it. what about the party or celebration that was arranged for you? he didn’t do much, he just sprinkled a little bit of his efforts even when he was the one who handled everything. the blanket that was placed on you when you fell asleep somewhere that isn’t your bed? you’d look stupid with a cold, he wouldn’t want you catching it.

WANDERER, the type to not show his feelings through words but rather with actions instead, and oftentimes with gifts. however, the same goes for him. he’s not used to such words, often responding to it in quite a mean manner by brushing it off and rolling his eyes but trust me and just observe his reaction carefully—he would turn away from you but despite that, you could still see the way his ears redden. he simply doesn’t know how to take it, only knowing how to either ignore it or somewhat agree with it, stating that it is only a must that you love him and that you should stay by his side for eternity that will come. he adores you, he really does and it’s way more than you might think, he’s just unable to convey it in a manner that you will understand so he does it in his own way in which is not hard for you to grasp the meaning behind it.

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miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Bold. (Yandere!Ghost x Plus Size!Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Ghost being Jealous, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, overstimulation, yandere behavior (my bad if I missed any)

Summary: Reader makes friends with König and Ghost gets jealous.

This is a combination of requests. You can find them here here (also sorry it isn’t angsty but I had no other ideas 😭)

“Everyone, this is König. He’ll be working alongside all of you on missions.” Captain Price announces. You see the massive man. Eyes widening. He looked like he could squash terrorists like little bugs.

Ghost watches your face and rolls his eyes.

He quickly realizes König is going to be a problem.

Ghost had been interested in you since you joined the task force. Sometimes not always making the best judgement when it came to you. He spent a lot of time getting to know you. Not by talking to you of course, but by watching you. Sometimes he snuck into the showers when you were in there alone. He snuck into your room to watch you sleep. He hid in the shadows around base, seeing you interact with others. He seen the way you looked at yourself in the mirror and it drove him crazy. You thought so low of yourself and Ghost adored everything about you. He wanted to show you how beautiful you were. Whenever he seen you talking to the other guys, being too friendly. His blood would boil. He would get so angry he wanted to grab you and rip you away from them. You were his, his only. He’d need to make that known to König as soon as possible.

Over the course of the next couple weeks, you grew close to König. Trying to make him feel welcome. Talking to him, sitting on watch with him, eating meals with him. You spent so much time with him, it drove Ghost crazy.

Captain Price presented you with a mission, just you and Ghost. Ghost took this as a perfect opportunity, he needed to get closer to you. No matter what it took. He wasn’t one to sabotage missions, but he would if it meant he got to be alone with you. It was a simple mission. Infil for documents, exfil with said documents. A quick in and out mission, or so everyone thought. Ghost had already set up the perfect plan. He just needed it to fall into place. You were quiet on the way there. Nervous under Ghosts watchful stares. He seemed judgmental, that’s why you never interacted with him. Not wanting to annoy him. You didn’t know what he thought of you and didn’t want to find out the hard way that he didn’t like you. Truth be told, you liked Ghost. More than you’d like to admit. Ever since you joined the task force, you had your eyes on him. Stealing glances when he wasn’t looking.

Sometimes in the morning in the mess hall, before he had his vest on. If he stretched in the right way, he’d reveal his stomach. He was toned and you just knew under that uniform and mask he was incredibly attractive.

When you arrived, you and Ghost invaded the buildings. Clearing them out one by one. When you and Ghost separated, it was his opportunity. His plan needed to be perfect. He called to the pilot of the exfil chopper, telling them to go, there’s too many soldiers and they’d put him at risk. Captain Price called back, offered to send backup. Ghost replied by saying it wasn’t anything the both of you couldn’t handle, and to come back for the both of you the following morning. Captain Price thought nothing of it. This was Lieutenant Simon Riley for Christs sake, nothing he couldn’t handle. He wished the both of you luck, and to stay safe. Ghost watched the chopper rise into the air, and take off. Returning to fight and meet back up with you. His plan worked out perfectly. When the buildings were clear, and you had collected the documents, you were ready to walk back to the chopper. “Chopper left.” Ghost mumbles. “What?”

He shrugs. “I heard something about technical difficulties, said they’d come back for us first thing in the morning.” He says. You nod your head. “Oh… okay.” You sigh. It was dead silent and you began looking around for a room that didn’t consist of too many bodies or too much blood spattered around. Finding an upstairs room with a few beds. Deciding to stay in there. Ghost followed you and watched you the entire time. Admiring the way your body looked in your uniform. He wanted to drool, hear you moan his name. He was obsessed. For the next couple of hours, the both of you are sitting in silence. Waiting. Deciding to take a shot to fill the awkward silence, you start a conversation. Small talk at first. Asking him questions until he settles in and starts asking his own questions about you. There wasn’t really anything he could ask you that he didn’t already know, he hacked into anything and everything to know every single thing about you. He knew every single thing about you, down to your great great grandmother’s middle name and ethnic groups. He knew everything he needed to know, you were the perfect girl for him. The conversation gets deeper and eventually, you ask the big question.

“What’s your worst fear?”

And Ghost really hadn’t put too much thought into it. Really. These days it didn’t feel like there was too much Ghost was afraid of but there’s one thing that stuck out above all else. If something happened to you. Something strikes Ghost in that moment. His obsessive behavior, watching you from afar. Pining after you in silence. That somehow got washed up at the thought of losing you, flashes of you getting critically injured makes his heart hurt. He doesn’t like that question. “Um.. give me a minute to think. What’s yours?” He asks. You tilt your head back against the wall, thinking for a moment. “Being left alone I think.” You mumble. “Getting left behind, abandoned.” You mumble. Ghost nods his head. It’s now or never. He needed to come clean, tell you about his feelings. Night is approaching, and tomorrow he will regret it if he doesn’t open up to you. He adjusts the way he’s sitting. “I think my biggest fear is losing you.” He says, without missing a beat. You tilt your head in confusion. “What do you mean?” You ask. He sighs. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever known. Anytime I get close to anybody, they get ripped away from me.” He looks down at his gloved hands. They’re a curse, a curse that he should feel bad for wanting to put on you. “I like you, have for a long time.” His voice is deep. You swallow hard, unsure of the words that have just left his lips. “Is.. this some kind of joke?” You breathe, he looks at you in confusion. “Why would I joke about that?” He asks. “I’m.. me. And you’re you. You’re.. way out of my league.” You laugh, exasperated. Ghost stands up, walking toward you.

When he’s standing right in front of you, he crouches down. Lifting your chin up to look up at him. “Now why would you say something like that? You’re real beautiful.” He breathes. The way your shy, doe eyes look up at him, it’s got his blood pumping fast through his veins. Heart pounding in your chest. He lowers himself to his knees in front of you. “I can show you.” He breathes. He grasps the bottom of his mask, pulling the cloth up to the bridge of his nose. “Ghost, I have to be honest. I really like you too. I just didn’t know that.. I didn’t think that-“ he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. His lips are smooth and his stubble scratches your upper lip as he kisses you hard. He throws you a curveball and takes you completely off guard. He’s a really good kisser, really really good.

When he pulls away, your eyes are closed and he can tell you’re already in another world. Taken aback by him and his boldness. He grasps the zipper on his vest, unzipping it and pulling it off. You’re starting to come back to earth, shaking your head slightly. You hadn’t had too much experience with sex or intimacy. Sure you’d had sex before but it’s been a long damn time. The last time, it wasn’t good. He body shamed you and made you self conscious. You hadn’t thought about interacting with anyone in that way in a long time. He reached for your gear, helping you pull it off. When it comes to your shirt, you get real nervous. He can tell. “Ghost I-“ you pause. “I know. Relax for me.” He breathes. He pulls his black shirt off, passing it to you. “Put it on.” He breathes. You nod your head skeptically. Ghost turns his head, trying to make you comfortable as you take everything off to slide it on. His shirt is still a tiny bit baggy on you, offering cover to your thighs. “You don’t need to hide yourself from me, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” He leans into you, pushing you back finally, your back laying flush with the ground. He hovers over you. You have nothing on except for his shirt and he’s working at his cargo pants. Shoving them down his legs quickly. Not paying attention to where they end up. He leans down into you, his body feels amazing on yours, and Ghosts eyes roll back. Your skin is fucking soft, so soft. He kisses you with more passion than before.

He’s getting the girl, the girl he wanted.

Thank god he came clean before you walked right into König’s arms. The thought of you and König had him being slightly more rough than before but he knows to control it. He kisses your chin, than down your neck. He kisses over your chest through his shirt, down your stomach. Pushing the shirt up over your hips and you let your head rest back. Nervous. He quickly shows you that you have nothing to be worried about as he kisses the inside of your thigh, dragging his tongue over your mound, flicking up your clit. Your body flinches hard, a gasp leaving your lips. “Oh my god-“ you tilt your head back, clutching at the blankets beneath you. A fire lights inside of Ghost, hearing those sweet moans leaving your lips, at the hands, or rather the mouth of him. You’re clutching hard at the blankets and a burning flame grows inside of him. You’re fucking sexy. He can’t help but rut his hips into the ground beneath him as he flicks his tongue over you, flattening it and running it over your clit. Sending shivers up your body, legs shaking slightly. The moans that leave your lips are straight out of an adult film, if Ghost wasn’t already in love, he sure as hell was now.

He wants to fuck you, until your thighs are shaking and you can’t physically take anymore. That’s how he really wants to show you how pretty you are, but he knows that has to wait. You’re not ready for that side of him yet. He dips a finger into you, a gasp leaving your lips. He wraps his other hand around your thigh, pushing down on your tummy to hold you still. Cries leaves your lips in a sweet symphony, chanting his name like a love spell, he’s pulling you into him. Grasping the strings of your heart and tying them to his, in the perfect knot. He’s curling his fingers right into the sweet spot inside of you. Being sure not to move too quickly. He brings you to the edge of your orgasm quickly, and he can tell by how restless you are. Squirming under his tongue. He pulls away, smirking at the whimper that leaves your lips. You’re panting, the twirling in your lower stomach starts to fade away, the edge of your orgasm disappears. A mewl leaving your lips as he pumps his cock with his hand.

You were ready for him, wiggling your hips to move them closer to him. You tug at the bottom of the shirt, pulling it down. His intense stares are making you feel a little insecure. A deep laugh leaves his lips and he glides a hand up your thigh. “You don’t need to hide yourself from me.” He leans down, pushing the shirt up. He grasps a hold of your thighs, lifting your hips up and forcefully pulling you closer to him. His strength and the way he manhandles you has you blushing. Lining himself up with your entrance he leans into you further. “You’re so stunning.” He kisses the sides of your lips his warm breath hitting your ear as he speaks. “I’ll show you how pretty you are to me, no matter what it takes. I mean…” he trails off. One thrust and he’s plowing into you, a gasp leaving your lips. The sheer size of him has all of the air leaving your lungs. A groan leaves his lips. “Look how hard you’ve made me.” He let’s out a breathy groan. He slides himself out of you, thrusting back in a little harder than he intends.

He wants to take his time with you. Show you just what you mean to him. But the other part of him, the jealous, insecure part of him. Wants to claim you. Show König exactly who you belong to. He trails off, focusing hard as he stares into your eyes. Holding himself up with his hands. You stare back up at him, trying hard to watch him. He’s thrusting steadily into you, fucking into you with enough force that you can barely handle it. Moans leave your lips in strings and he had to keep back a smirk. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans are the only sounds in the room, something Simon could listen to all day and night. He’s letting out deep breaths of air, trying hard to keep his thrusts steady. Leaning down to attach his lips to yours again. His lips are intoxicating, the buzzing in your ears is too loud to bear. In just a few minutes he’s gotten your high built up. You clutch the blanket in a death grip. He slows his thrusts. “Want you to ride me.” He pants. Nerves getting the best of you immediately as he asks. “But- but I’m really heavy.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re not fuckin heavy.” He pulls out of you, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Even if you were heavy, I’d let you fucking crush me. Now get on top of me.” He lays back. You swallow hard, skeptically moving on top of him. You try to keep yourself up, not wanting to rest all of your weight on him, he notices immediately. He grasps your hips and pulls you down onto him. A groan leaving his lips. “That’s it, that’s my good girl.” He breathes. You lift your hips off of him, sliding back down. The new angle is a lot. Overwhelming and you’re overstimulated. You lean forward, beginning to bounce your hips into him. “Oh fuck-“ his hand slapping into the blanket to clutch it has butterflies forming in your stomach. “Fuck- such a good girl- good fuckin girl.” He groans. He lifts his hips into yours, the desperation getting the best of him. Your moans are getting louder and you’re right there. Right there on the edge. “Fuck- keep fucking me sweetheart.” He grits his teeth, the muscles in his neck clenching up, his adams apple bobbing with a hard gulp he takes.

“S-Simon. M’so close” you cry out. He relaxes his hips, laying still. Putting his hands behind his head. His eyes boring into you makes you nervous under his glare once again. “Fuck yourself on my cock sweetheart. M’close too.” He pants. His chest is rising and falling but he stays still, loving the way you blush as he stares at you. You rock your hips into his faster, resting your hands on his chest as you chase after that sweet high you want so badly. He lowers one of his hands, rubbing fast circles into your clit. A cry leaves your lips and he can feel your arousal soaking him as you finally reach your high, cumming around him with a mewl. He lets you ride out your high for a second before he’s pushing your hips up until you’re off of him, pumping his cock quickly. “Get on your knees for me.” You obey him immediately, panting as you come down from your own high. He stands up, hand pumping fast at his cock. “You want my cum sweetheart?” He bites his lip. You nod your head. “Open your mouth.” You once again obey him, and he loves how submissive you are. “Ah fuck I’m gonna cum-“ he growls. Gritting his teeth as he bucks his hips forward, coating your face and tongue in his cum. You swallow his cum, licking your lips. He’s panting hard, cock still standing at attention when he releases it. Coated in his thick cum. He breathes hard, passing you an extra blanket. You clean yourself up quickly, getting redressed as fast as possible. Something you were so used to. He chuckles at this. “Still insecure around me?” He mumbles, stopping you as you stepped into your pants. He steps on the center of them, forcing them back down your legs. “Looks like I didn’t do a good enough job hm?” He smiles. Wrapping a hand around your throat and pulling you in to kiss him. He lowers himself back down to the ground, pulling you with him.

“Sit on my face.” He breathes, pulling you to straddle him again. “What? No. I’m going to hurt you Simon.”

“You don’t hurt me, I promise. But if you really want to stop, you can. But I’d really like it if you tried it.” You look down. A sigh leaving your lips. “You promise I won’t hurt you? Or.. suffocate you?” He laughs. “No, unfortunately. Wouldn’t mind being suffocated by these pretty thighs, little temptress.” A slap on your backside has your hips jumping up, earning a groan from him as you grind up his cock. A laugh leaves his lips. “Cmon sweetheart. I’ll help guide you.” He grasps your hips, helping you move forward. When you’ve got your knees on either side of his head, you’re holding back again, earning a muffled laugh from him as he pulls down on your hips. You rest more of your body weight on him, moaning out when he starts to lap at your cunt with his tongue. Sucking and licking at your clit like it’s freezing ice cream on a hot day. He holds you down by your hips you tilt your head back with a moan, beginning to rock your hips forward. Simon can feel himself getting hard again already. Your moans fill the quiet room again, and even though they’re muffled, Simon still loves them. Feeling the stubble on his face start to scratch at your thighs pulls you close to another high pretty quickly. He lets go of your hips for a second, sliding his hands up your shirt to cup your breasts, giving them a slight squeeze, rolling your nipples between his fingers. The feeling of his tongue lapping at your clit and fingers on your nipples sends you into another orgasm, crying out as you cum, hips bucking. He holds you steady, lapping up your cum from your cunt. You start to squirm, trying to pull away, feeling him smile into you as he overstimulates you. When he lets you go finally, you slide off him, laying on your back. You’re panting hard. His shirt has ridden up on you and you don’t make a move to fix it. Body on display for him to see. He sits up, chuckling. “Such a good girl for me.”

After a few more minutes of laying like that, he helps you get dressed this time. He buttons your pants for you even, mumbling out a “if you feel insecure or make an attempt to hide yourself around me, I’m gonna melt your fucking brain with my cock or my tongue. You have no reason to feel that way around me.” He breathes, kissing you once more.

Once the both of you had returned to base, you still made attempts at being friends with König. Ghost was still very jealous of course, but you didn’t seem to spend as much time with König, and you went seeking out Ghost whenever you needed someone to talk to, or someone to make you feel good. Eventually, when Ghost made it official with you, you warmed up to him completely. Not shying away from him like you used to, and Ghost loved it.

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