#before falling asleep in each others arms

[ceilidho]

Margaritaville

For days now, you’ve been seeing the same broad-shouldered man lounging around the resort. Or: the knocked up on vacation au Part 3 masterlist

-

A shower and thorough scrub after the fact washes away most of the more damning evidence, but paranoia still buzzes under your skin when you rejoin your friends downstairs. They’re sitting beside each other in a row of lounge chairs by the edge of the pool when you reappear, beach bag in hand, waving at you from across the way. You hurry over to join them.

“What—did you fall asleep up there?” one of them asks you, and it takes a second for you to recall the excuse you gave them about going upstairs to look for a book to read. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I wasn’t feeling too good, so I lied down for a bit.”

“Oh no,” one of them says with a frown, sitting up on her elbows to get a better look at you. “You feeling better now? We can go back to the hotel room if you want.”

“Nah, I’m alright now. I had a shower too, so I’m feeling much better.”

You might’ve been better off pretending that you just fell asleep upstairs rather than lying about feeling sick. 

Though still hours from sundown, the sun isn’t anywhere near as thick in the sky anymore; a cloudless expanse of blue as far as the eye can see, stretching from zenith to offing. Despite the slight breeze and the UV index starting to inch back down, you still slather on a fresh layer of sunscreen. 

“So what’d you get?”

You look up from your legs and a glob of sunscreen slips down your calf and onto the chair. “Huh?” 

“Your book,” she repeats, looking at you like it should be obvious. “What book did you go get?”

Your hands freeze over your bag, a cold sweat leaking through you. All that just for you to forget to bring back a fucking book. 

“Oh, I, uh,” you stammer, looking in your bag helplessly like a book might suddenly appear out of nowhere. “I must’ve left it back upstairs. Damn.”

Lucky for you, no one has the energy to care or look past the obvious stutter in your voice, accepting your words as gospel. Your friend closest to you rolls her eyes and pushes her sunglasses back up her nose. “It’s alright—here, I’ve got another in my bag. It would be such a waste of time to go all the way back upstairs.”

“Yeah,” you say, swallowing when you think about heading back into the resort and taking the elevator to the next floor up from your room, following the long hallway back to John’s room, where he’d be waiting for you with a wry smile and open arms, towel still cinched around his waist. “That would suck. Thanks.”

For one singular day, you actually make a concerted effort to steer clear of John. 

That means: no surreptitious glances or orchestrating accidental run-ins. You keep close to your friends the whole day, never more than a couple feet away. 

And for the most part, it works. You’re mostly successful that first day. For a while after your little hookup, you don’t see hide nor hair of him anywhere around the resort. Where before John was seemingly everywhere, now he’s nowhere to be found. 

It’s almost infuriating. Had he been this elusive in the days since you arrived at the resort, you might not have felt as tempted by his constant presence. It was the proximity and blatant invitation that gradually wore away at your resolve. 

You keep deferring responsibility for your actions. That belongs to a future, stronger you, whether or not she’ll ever come to fruition.

“Looking for someone?” your friend asks when you glance around the poolside for the umpteenth time. Her words are laced with a subtle kind of humour, some inside joke that you haven’t caught on to just yet.  

You shake your head. “Nope. Just people watching.”

“Right,” she drawls, only burying her nose in her book again after sending you a sceptical glance.

When her attention is back on her book, you peek around again, searching for any sign of someone in pin-stripped swim trunks. Disappointed when you find nothing. 

The girls insist on going down to the beach and renting jetskis in the afternoon, guaranteeing that you won’t see John for the rest of the day, but at least it gets you out of your head for a while. Air whips by your ears and you scream in delight, your arms cinching around your friend’s waist as she guns the engine.

Afternoon melts into evening, which melts into night. At supper, someone mentions taking a dip in the hot tub and you pounce on the thought, the four of you giggling and tumbling down the stairs on your way back to the pool area. 

The hot tub lights oscillate between purple, pink, and blue at a timed interval, keeping the water bathed in a cool, dark colour as night falls. Dusk ushers in a changed world. Large snails leave slimy trails as they creep out of the potted plants and slither across the furniture. Spiders and moths emerge from dark corners as well, the nocturnal world coming to life around you. 

The three of them get out of the hot tub around nine, someone complaining about still being hungry. As tempted as you are to join the girls for a late bite to eat at the restaurant, the hot water and jets are doing wonders for your sore muscles, especially after the previous day. You can’t exactly explain that to the others though, so when they try to cajole you out of the water, you brush them off and promise that you’ll join them in a few minutes. 

Besides, you’re overdue for some alone time. The more you have, the less likely you’ll be to start fights over nothing, cabin fever finding no foothold in a person aware that it hovers on the periphery. 

Around the complex, the pools glow cyan like bioluminescent glowworms, the floodlights on to keep drunk tourists from falling in on their way back to their rooms. Some angelic-voiced eighties singer croons over the speaker, music still playing around the pool area until it abruptly cuts out and silence rushes in like a wave to fill the emptiness. The silence doesn’t worry you though; it’s almost serene sitting alone in the dark and gazing across the way at the buildings still brightly lit from the inside. 

You don’t realize that you aren’t actually alone until someone joins you in the water. 

The loud splash of his feet entering the water is what alerts you to his presence, the sudden noise causing your heart to jump up into your throat, head snapping to the side when a large body sits down beside you, displacing the volume of the water in the hot tub. 

“Oh shit,” you gasp, heartbeat going wild for a second. You scoot away instinctively and hit the low wall to your left. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you, honey,” John apologizes, settling in beside you. “You seemed lonely all by yourself, so I thought I’d join you.” 

His body inadvertently crowds you up against the pool wall. Or at least, it feels inadvertent, like he just sat wherever happened to be free, notwithstanding the fact that by doing so, he had trapped you at the edge of the bench. 

John rests an arm behind you, almost tucking you into his side when he slides over a bit more, thigh pressed against yours under the water. Spreading his arms out along the edge of the pool forces his chest to stick out and his shoulders to broaden. 

“Where’d you come from?” you ask, glancing around behind you. 

“Around.” He cocks a thick, dark eyebrow, studying you. “Were you looking for me?” 

“No,” you deny, almost vehemently. More to yourself than to him. “You just caught me off guard. I thought I was alone.”

“Noticed that. Why aren’t you with your friends?”

“I am,” you object. “…I just wanted to be on my own for a bit.”

“Needed some time apart? They give you a hard time for what we did earlier?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at that. “No,” you hiss, teeth clenched, pitching your voice lower to keep anyone from overhearing. “I didn’t…tell anyone. And we aren’t fighting. They’re getting something to eat and I wasn’t hungry.”

“Seems like I’m always catching you on your own.”

“I like being by myself.”

Your breathing is a little quicker than usual. His presence now is different than the times before, back when he was nothing more than a pretty face to you. You know what his mouth tastes like now, what the bristles of his beard feel like on the delicate flesh of your inner thighs and how deep his fingers can curl inside of you. He isn’t just a stranger across the pool anymore, but a man that knows you intimately. Biblically.

You wrap your arms around yourself to shield your breasts from his eyes. That’s what you tell yourself anyway. Maybe you cross them to make sure that you keep your hands to yourself.

“Why come with them at all then?” John asks, breaking the silence. 

“…I’ve never travelled on my own.”

He nods approvingly. “Good. Smart girl.”

That pisses you off for some reason. Probably the insinuation that there’d be something wrong with you travelling by yourself. Like you couldn’t take care of yourself. “I could if I wanted to.” 

“Didn’t say you couldn’t, but it’s smarter that you don’t. Safety in numbers.”

If he wasn’t so handsome, you’d probably be mildly off-put by the condescension in his voice. It’s part and parcel of him though, that slight arrogance that clings to his skin like the smell of smoke, like dirt wedged into the grooves of his fingers. Old and lived in. 

“Maybe I’ll just ask my husband to come with me the next time I feel like going somewhere,” you say snarkily. 

He doesn’t respond right away. When the weight of his stare gets a bit too heavy, you glance up at him to find his pupils blown wide. 

“Maybe you should,” John rasps. 

The sound of his voice, rough as tire over gravel roads, makes your nipples bead in your damp swimsuit.

For a moment, it feels like there’s nothing else in the world except for the two of you. All of the chatter and music from the nearby buildings drop to a hush. If you shut off your mind, you could almost trick yourself that it’d always been this way. 

Damp, calloused fingers pinch your chin and hold you in place, rooting you in that moment like his hold is the only thing tethering you to the world. 

“I should get back to my friends,” you say. Even though you practically whisper the words, they pierce through the silence, a little nearby lizard scuttling across the damp concrete floor towards a tree, where it disappears into the darkness. 

“They can wait a little longer,” he murmurs, leaning forward until your lips slot with his and your sigh makes your whole body tremble, lips parting when his tongue slips in and he slides a hand in between your thighs under the water. 

It’s torturous to see him around the resort and not be allowed to touch. 

Another day in the scorching heat and you’re on the verge of defeat. You sweat and you sweat until the only thing left to give is your will. It bends like straw, chaff breaking off the closer it comes to snapping. 

At a certain point, you have to accept responsibility for your own actions. You’re a big girl after all. Old enough to understand the weight that each of your choices bear and the consequences they’ll inevitably bring about. Disappoint your friends or disappoint yourself. Simple a choice as has ever been put in front of you. 

And, selfish as you’ve been this entire trip, the choice is easy enough to make in the end. 

In the early morning before the rest of your friends have woken up, you quietly slip out of bed and take the elevator up to John’s floor, knocking twice before he opens the door and pulls you inside with a growl. 

“John—John, fuck, please—”

“I know, honey, I know,” he murmurs into your neck, exhaling heavily when he drops you back down onto his cock, juices running from the base of his shaft to his balls. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Your thighs burn with the effort to bounce on his dick, John having to do most of the work once your muscles begin to give out. 

Not even the pretense of a condom this time. You didn’t say anything when he didn’t make a move to take one out and now it feels a bit too late to bring it up. It’s not the end of the world though; you’ll just tell him to pull out when he’s close to coming. 

“Fuck, honey, Jesus Christ—��

“Sorry,” you whimper, inner muscles suddenly clenched so tight that you nearly come right then and there. Just the thought of him coming in you raw sends a sharp spike of pleasure through your body. 

All you can think of is sticky, messy cum leaking out of you. Thick strands ribboning between your fingers when you pull them apart. It’s a dangerous thought; you’re playing fast and loose with the most dire of consequences. 

“Ohmygodohmygod—” you whimper, tears building on your waterline and spilling over. “Oh f-fuck, I’m gonna—come, John—” 

“Yeah, you are,” he grunts, brow furrowing in concentration, the vein in his forehead more pronounced than ever. “C’mon, honey, give it to me—give me it—”

It rushes over you all at once, inner walls tensing and squeezing around his shaft. Eyes rolling back in your head when you feel him come inside you, a rush of heat flooding against your womb. 

He doesn’t make you wait long after pulling out, immediately ducking his head down to burrow his face between your thighs, running his tongue up the seam of your sex and huffing out in pleasure. Hot breath blows over your clit, and your whole body jolts at the sensation. Your clit is too sensitive, puffy and engorged. Your walls squeeze around his fingers when John shoves a couple in and busies himself with laving his tongue over your clit and sucking it into his mouth. 

“Wait, wait—” you squeal, threading your fingers into his hair and trying to pull him off. “I can’t—I can’t—”

His own cum trickles out down his fingers as he plunges them in and out of your hole, feeling the mess he left inside of you. Heat floods to your cheeks at the lurid squelch of your hole when he presses his fingers back in.

“You can,” John says unsympathetically, the fingers pistoning in and out of your hole punctuating his words. 

And, true to his words, you do. 

When you limp back down to your room an hour later, you turn the knob extra carefully lest someone wake up to you doing the walk of shame. 

You were stupid to ever think this could be a one time thing. That you could have him once and then move on like it never happened, like it scratched that itch of yours permanently instead of waking it up from its slumber. 

Now it buzzes under your skin morning, noon, and night. Insatiable—libido ramped up by a factor of ten and no matter how many times he fucks you senseless, you’re always desperate for more. When you see him from across the pool, it’s all you can do not to swim across and crawl into his lap, wedging his thigh between your legs and grinding down until the pressure tips you over the edge.

From the looks of it, your friends don’t suspect a thing. How could they after all? You leave the hotel room at the crack of dawn and come back before they’ve even turned over in bed. 

John is as subtle in public as ever. A thousand times more discrete than you. He’s so good at ignoring you around the resort that it’s almost infuriating.  It’s your own fault, seeing as how you begged him to keep a low profile. You have no one to blame but yourself for his inattention.

In the privacy of his hotel room, it’s a whole different story. 

Sometimes he says weird shit when you fuck. The pet names you can excuse because they get you all hot and bothered, but it’s harder to ignore the way he laces your fingers and looks deep into your eyes while rocking into you, patting your cheek roughly when you try to close your eyes. It’s too intense. Too intimate. Not the kind of thing you do with a vacation fling.

You’re speaking from limited experience though. A small sample size, if you can even call your love life that. Maybe this is something people do with their flings, the rules of intimacy eschewed with an established understanding of finitude. You are going home at the end of this, after all. Whatever you do in between then and now doesn’t matter. 

You could say or do anything and it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again. 

On the pet name front though, you do test him on the off chance that he actually just forgot your name entirely. It catches you off guard when he remembers not just your first name but your last name as well, murmuring it back to you like he’s memorized it when you ask.

“Oh,” you reply, unsure of what else to say. “…Sorry. I thought…”

His thumb brushes over your cheekbone when he cups your face in one hand. “I know what you thought, honey. Never had anyone pay enough attention to you, have you?”

You don’t know what to say in response to that. He pops his thumb into your mouth when you gape at him for too long, letting it rest on your tongue. The weight of it holding your tongue down is almost soothing and the thoughts in your head fizzle and pop like stars when you close your mouth around it and suck. 

Sometimes though, you’re the one that makes things weird.

“I wish I came here with you,” you admit in a hushed whisper when you’ve been backed into his bed.

“Would’ve been me if I’d found you first,” John grunts, gripping you by your calves and yanking you towards the edge of the bed. 

Big hands scoop up under your ass and lift you into the air to get the angle right. He impales you on his dick inch by inch, the stretch familiar now even though it still takes your breath away. 

“Yeah?” you breathe. 

John doesn’t answer at first, eyes going blank as he draws you off his dick and then plunges back into you. His stare is blank and yet it doesn’t waver. Locked on your face even though he almost stares right through you. 

“Yeah,” he rumbles, snapping his hips forward. “Could’ve made a baby here instead of sneaking around like teenagers.”

Oh—

(fuck)

You know it’s just dirty talk, but you get all tight and tingly anyway, licking the sweat off your upper lip when you repeat, “A baby?” 

His eyes go darker when he hears you say it. Animalistic; mindless. And suddenly all you can think about is the fact that you’ve foregone protection again to let an older, virile man hit it raw. Dirty talk trembling over the edge of make believe and staring down into the abyss because he could

really knock you up right here and now. 

His lip curls up almost into a snarl. “Came enough times in you by now. ‘Be a miracle if you weren’t.”

You lick at the sweat beading on your upper lip. “You want that?”

Dumb question. You know there isn’t a shot that a man his age on vacation is looking to knock up the first girl he comes across, but it gets you so hot that you forget about common sense for a second. It’s irresponsible. Selfish. Stupid. 

He hikes a knee onto the bed to get some leverage before folding his whole body over yours. All however many pounds, enough to take your breath away and make your heart beat faster. A heavy, suffocating presence punctuated by the way he fucks into you even harder, huffing as he chases after it.

“Would’ve used a fuckin’ condom if I didn’t,” John snarls right in your face, and the pleasure that evokes hits you so hard that you nearly pass out when you come. 

Sooner or later, you were bound to slip up. 

Your friend catches you on your way out the door one morning on your way to see John, your hand barely brushing the doorknob when her voice suddenly comes out of nowhere. “Going to get breakfast?”

You flinch at the sound of her voice, head whipping to the left. In your hurry to meet up with John, you hadn’t noticed her standing in the bathroom with the door wide open. Arms crossed and already dressed, staring at you like catching you almost out the door isn’t surprising. 

“Uh, yeah. What’re you doing up?”

She shrugs. “I slept long enough; been up for a while actually. Mind if I come with? I’m starving.”

You do in fact mind, but short of telling her why you’d prefer she didn’t, you have no excuse for why she shouldn’t join you for breakfast. You acquiesce instead, forcing a smile and nodding before following her out the door and in the opposite direction of the elevators. 

Breakfast is awkward, to say the least. The conversation comes strained and stilted, like it’s the first time you’ve ever met the girl sitting opposite you instead of a friend of several years. You can tell that she suspects something, but since she doesn’t bother bringing it up, you don’t either. 

All you can focus on is the fact that somewhere upstairs, John is still in his room waiting for you, and that as more time passes with you downstairs at breakfast, the less time you’ll have with him when you finally make it upstairs to his room. 

“Hey? Are you listening to me?”

Your head snaps up. “Hm?” 

The look she levels you with is thoroughly unimpressed. “I asked if you’d finished your book yet.”

“Oh, yeah. I finished it the other day at the beach. Did you want to borrow it?”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked.” She sounds annoyed, and with good reason. You’ve been flighty and inattentive at best; downright neglectful at worst. 

You eat quickly, downing half your plate before a server comes by with coffee, which you very nearly refuse until you catch the way your friend squints across the table at you. Too obvious. Her hackles are already up, suspicions hissing like snakes in her hair. 

The terse conversation that follows only further illustrates that. If she hasn’t already figured it out, she’s at least begun to suspect your frequent absences and the perpetual smell of sex on you. She’s just nice enough to not come right out of the gate and say it. 

A busser comes by as soon as they spot your empty plate, gathering everything up and piling the cutlery on top before hurrying away to bus another table. When the server comes by again to top up your cup, you politely refuse, finishing the rest in a single swallow. 

“What’s the rush?” your friend asks, cocking an eyebrow. “Somewhere else to be?”

“No, I just—” You freeze, half out of your seat, the sound of the chair scraping against the tile underneath abruptly cutting out. Excuses assemble on your tongue but refuse to leap off, choked back by the fact that you just don’t know what to say. “I just…I’m done eating.”

“Right,” she drawls, arms folded on the table, nearly full plate still in front of her. “I guess my conversation was staler than the food.”

“No, look, it’s not—”

“It’s fine,” she sighs, waving you away. “I’ll tell the others you went down to the pool when they wake up. Just be there in an hour.”

You didn’t expect the reprieve. You barely deserve it, as a matter of fact. But her dismissal rings loud and you aren’t about to pass up the opportunity to go up to John, despite the guilt curdling in your belly. 

“Yeah, okay,” you promise. “I’ll be there.”

And you really, truly think you’re in the clear until you turn to walk away and she says her parting words. “Give him my best, by the way.”

Full body cringe. You don’t turn back around though, shame finally catching up to you, and the sound of your flip-flops squeaking against the tile on your way towards the elevators mocks you the whole way up to John’s room.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine crashing into the Fantastic Four living room and Johnny finding you badly injured…

Johnny grabbed the Lucky Charms from the countertop and drove right in. He fished for a few marshmallows and tossed them into his mouth. The living room was quiet and there was a cool wind coming through from the terrace. It made for a perfect movie night.

As he descended the steps, Johnny felt the air shift before he saw it - saw you. Your distinct insignia travelled across your belt and it caught his eye under the moonlight. You were lying on your side in a pool of blood that trailed from the terrace. Had you crashed landed?

“Shit, Y/n.” The cereal box hit the ground, abandoned as Johnny raced to your side.

He instinctively called for his sister and brother-in-law when he remembered that everyone went out for dinner.

“H.E.R.B.I.E. call the others right now! It’s an emergency.”

Johnny carefully turned you over and tapped your face. “Come on.”

Your eyes squeezed before they peered open and stared into his face. “Hey, you.” You whispered.

Johnny wanted to smile at the term of endearment. He wanted to banter. But you were bleeding out on the floorboards.

Searching for the wound, Johnny tore the panelled fabric of your suit as quickly as he could without hurting you further. At the third rip - blood. So much blood.

“Damn it! H.E.R.B.I.E.,I need you buddy!”

Grabbing the cleanest piece of uniform, Johnny applied pressure. You groaned at the discomfort.

H.E.R.B.I.E wheeled over with the necessary medical items and assessed the wound. With its mechanical arms, it pinched the skin together. Clenching his jaw, Johnny let go and wiped the excess blood off on his pants. They’d be stained but he couldn’t care less. He then placed a warm hand against your rapidly cooling cheek.

“Taking my clothes off in the dark? What would the world think?” You whispered, blood loss finally reaching your head.

“As much as I love you flirting with me, I need you to focus. We’re going to staple this closed before moving you to the medical bay, okay?” He informed. Though judging by the dazed look in your eyes, you weren’t hearing him.

Your head lolled to the side, eyes shutting and Johnny panicked. He tapped your face in quick succession, “No, hey!” You jerked back to consciousness and found his face once more. “Don’t fall asleep on me, jeez.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. chirped and count down from three before sealing your skin together with a medical staple. Johnny took your hand for support as the robot worked. He hated the way you winced each time.

“Who did this?” Johnny asked.

You squeezed his hand as your body began to protest with the flaring pain. “I- didn’t see his face.” You said through grit teeth. The little robot whirred to reload and quickly returned to the site of the wound. “It was covered… in metal…”

“A metal?” Johnny repeated. His heart aching with the tears pooling in your eyes as you continued to speak.

“He had-ah!”

“H.E.R.B?” Johnny called out. The robot beeped twice in apology and rolled back. The last staple had been inserted and you exhaled with relief, “…a green cloak.”

Johnny raised your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles, keeping it close as he thought.

A metal-masked man in a green cloak. Johnny would keep this high on his priority list. He wasn’t looking to forgive this monster for what they did to you.

It was then that Johnny realised that it was quiet. He looked at you and found your eyes closed.

“No, no, no… Y/n?”

The elevator doors opened and the floor shook as Ben arrived. “We hurried back as soon as we heard. Reed and Susie are in the medical bay monitoring the pulse. It’s weak so we need to move fast.”

Johnny wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. “Uh- yeah.” He said softly and moved back to let his friend through.

Ben was gentle but fast as he scooped you up and led you out. Johnny was with you every step of the way but he slowed for a minute and paused briefly, looking back at the scene of blood and Lucky Charms that was being cleaned up by the robot.

You almost died in his arms. And the thought of you no longer being in his life scared him more than anything. Johnny looked at the terrace and then beyond to the sky - he was going to find the person that did this. That was a promise.

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: It was an imagine that ran from me. So much for saying the last one was ‘the last one’ 😂

[rafesangelita]

♡ NSFW ALPHABET : BABYDADDY!RAFE X POGUE!SWEETHEART!READER EDITION

warnings: fluff, unprotected sex, descriptions of motherhood, creampie(s), cum play, breastfeeding, lactation kink, use of the name ‘daddy’ (you’ve been warned!!), ovulation, breeding, light teasing, male masturbation, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation

a/n: soooo sorry this took long to get out! i hope y’all girlies love it and feel free to leave requests for this pairing <3

₊˚⊹♡ A : AFTERCARE (what are they like after sex?)

short and sweet. if taking care of a baby wasn’t already tiring within itself and making you fall asleep as soon as you settled into the plush comforter of your bed, rafe making you cum a minimum of three times in a single round was definitely going to do the trick. you’re still trembling from your orgasm, rafe trailing a line of kisses from your temple, down to the underside of your jaw when your brain suddenly switches and you’re back in mommy mode. “the baby..” you whisper, “i have to check on the baby.” rafe is shushing you, gently stroking your cheek and relieving you of your worries as he gets up from the bed. “i’ll go check, okay? don’t move a muscle, sweetheart.”

₊˚⊹♡ B : BODY PART (their favorite body part on each other)

babydaddy!rafe is in loveee with your hips. so much so, that it stirs something primal inside of him whenever his eyes rake down your beautiful figure. he’ll rest his hands in the supple curves, a shiver running down your spine when you feel the familiar dig of his fingers deepen into your skin. protection, possession— you could feel it in the way rafe guides you on top of his lap just before pushing into you, his vice-like hold on your hips surely leaving you sore for the next morning. he likes to run the back of his knuckles along your side, his hand dipping every time he follows your natural curve. “i love seeing the baby attached to your hip, ‘just makes me wanna give you another one.”

while pogue!sweetheart!reader loves everything about rafe, watching his forearms in action always made her dizzy with all of the dirty thoughts swirling around in her head. she’d watch him carefully while he was on daddy duty, the heavy diaper bag that she often struggled with carrying (only when she was by herself) would be lifted up effortlessly by rafe as if it weighed nothing. she likes to think it started when rafe fucked her in a headlock one particular night, the feeling of his muscled arm pressing against her throat with every thrust was something truly unforgettable— she still daydreamed about it till this day. rafe would catch her staring all the time, her eyes following the veins that protruded there.

₊˚⊹♡ C : CUM (anything to do with cum)

creampies are a must. if rafe isn’t holding you in place— balls deep and filling you up with every drop of his seed, he’s watching his cum seep out of you in slow dribbles, the sight driving him insane. there’s times where he can’t help but gather the mess and push it back into you with a choked groan, his fingers tugging at the roots of your hair to make you watch. it’s rare that rafe cums on you instead of in you, but when he does, he likes to finish on your tits, his jaw falling slack as the thick, white ropes drip down to your stomach. sometimes for a shock factor, you’d lick some of the sticky remnants from your chest, a giggle leaving your lips as rafe stared at you wide eyed and horny for round two.

₊˚⊹♡ D : DIRTY (a dirty secret of theirs)

oddly enough, babydaddy!rafe is absolutely feral over the fact that you’re breastfeeding. he wakes up to you whimpering in discomfort, your breasts so engorged with milk that he feels almost relieved when you ask him to massage you while you pump. he doesn’t know why he finds it so sexy, he just knows that when you agreed to let him have a taste one night as a joke, it was anything but funny the way he was so turned on. rafe came in record time, his obsession with your tits becoming damn near insufferable as he tried his best to stay composed around you. “are you done nursing for the night?” rafe would ask as he fixed himself under the covers, secretly hoping you weren’t too tired to have him latch onto you instead..

pogue!sweetheart!reader is secretly sooo freaky behind closed doors, it takes rafe by surprise whenever you do something that he’s completely at a loss for words for. while everyone knows you as the sweet girl who sells baked goods out of her own kitchen, rafe is the one who hears ‘please don’t stop, daddy!’ while he absolutely pounds you into another universe. one minute you’re screaming his name, clinging onto him like your life depends on it, and the next minute you’re selling cookies to the sweet old lady at the country club while you rave all about your precious little bundle of joy waiting for you at home.

₊˚⊹♡ E : EXPERIENCE (how experienced are they?)

surprisingly, rafe didn’t have much sex before meeting pogue!sweetheart!reader. sure, he’d have a few escapades here and there, and if he felt like he was up to it (which was occasionally)— he’d go all the way. as for you, you didn’t have much experience under your belt, either. you had a ‘no commitment, no sex’ dating rule that you followed and stayed adamant about. knowing how sensitive and emotional, and maybe even a little needy you could be, you knew you couldn’t let yourself have sex with someone you didn’t feel strongly for.. and then rafe came along. once you and him established yourselves as a couple, there was no stopping the marathon sex you two were having, the baby you two now shared being proof of that..

₊˚⊹♡ F : FAVORITE POSITION (click here for !reader’s fav)

‘harmony’ just so happens to be the position that got you pregnant in the first place, and understandably so. babydaddy!rafe is going for it every single time he knows you’re ovulating. with your hips elevated— all thanks to your favorite heart-shaped, lace trimmed throw pillow, and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, it was the perfect recipe for you two to start cooking up baby number one. “gotta’ make sure it sticks, gorgeous, because we’re not leaving this bed until it does.” he said through gritted teeth, your walls squeezing around him like a vice. you laid there, defeated, feeling so fucked out and delirious, all you could do was let rafe stay nestled deep inside of you until he was done filling you up.

₊˚⊹♡ G : GOOFY (are they serious or humorous?)

considering babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader are humorous in their everyday lives, it’s natural for their inside jokes and giggles to follow them into the bedroom. rafe would sometimes mock you when you were really loud, your cheeks heating before a small smile would crack on your lips. “don’t do that!” you’d scold him, hiding your face out of embarrassment. of course, rafe would always reassure you that he was just kidding before making you be even louder than before. however, don’t be fooled by their antics, they could be just as serious too, both of them keeping their eyes locked on each other while rafe worked her body the best way he knows how.

₊˚⊹♡ H : HAIR (how well groomed is he?)

just for personal preferences, babydaddy!rafe is bald most of the time except for when stubble starts coming through due to maintenance being the last thing on his mind. sharing the responsibilities of taking care of a baby left him too tired to care about shaving every so often. while neither of you really cared about body hair on each other, you couldn’t deny the prickly feeling between your legs whenever rafe would be on top of you, a small laugh escaping your lips before he’d look down at you, confused. “what’s so funny? is it my face?” you were quick to shake your head at his words, your body jolting when his fingers found your clit, “no, it just tickles that’s all..”

₊˚⊹♡ I : INTIMACY (how are they during the moment?)

theres’s not a single thing (except the sound of their baby’s cry) that will distract them out of their moment and make them pull away from each other. if rafe isn’t admiring pogue!sweetheart!reader’s beautiful face, his eyes are running down her body as he caresses her flesh ever so gently. babydaddy!rafe makes sure there’s no space left between them while he’s inside of her, her moans reverberating against his skin as he presses kisses to her temple. both of them are so emotionally present when it comes to pleasing one another, pogue!sweetheart!reader is 1000% sure that’s why it feels special every single time. they both treat intimacy like it’s an act of passion and not just something to get out of the way.

₊˚⊹♡ J : JACK OFF (how often does he do it?)

despite him being a new parent and not really having time for anything, he didn’t jerk off as much prior to you having the baby, either. it’s almost like your relationship stayed in the honeymoon phase and you two never really stopped having sex until you fell pregnant and it was done in moderation. even at that, he was far too concerned for your health and your wellbeing to really let loose the way he did before you had a growing baby bump. if he jerked off it was because he had to be away from you for work related stuff and it was always you on his mind whenever he’d tug one out. babydaddy!rafe would much prefer you to be the one making him cum rather than his fist, but he sufficed when he needed to..

₊˚⊹♡ K : KINK (one of his kinks, read more here)

touching base on rafe’s dirty little secret— LACTATION KINKKK!!!! it started one night when he was laying on his side, his arm draped across your torso as you snored softly in his hold. he was still awake, his attention trained on the tv in the corner when suddenly he felt something damp against his skin. eyebrows knitting in confusion, rafe pulled away only to see two wet stains adorning the oversized t-shirt you currently wore. just as he was going to see what was wrong, your eyes fluttered open, a pained whimper falling from your lips as your fingers immediately felt for your breasts. as expected, they were swollen beyond belief, your best judgement going against you as you had decided earlier that evening to skip out on pumping until the next morning. you asked rafe if he could grab your pump from the kitchen, and without hesitation he jumped up and did it, quickly flicking on the lamp that sat on your bedside table. when rafe came back, he almost stopped dead in his tracks at the sight. there you were, completely topless as a small drop of milk dripped down the perfect swell that was your tit. you looked up at him from where he was standing in the doorway and giggled. “what? you want a taste?” he was never the same after he took you up on your offer..

₊˚⊹♡ L : LOCATION (favorite place to do the deed)

for babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader, nothing will ever beat them being in the comfort of their own home where the baby wasn’t far (the nursery being next door to their bedroom). maybe it was also a ‘peace of mind’ thing, because the one time they tried to have sex away from the baby, both of them couldn’t really focus and it didn’t work out. however, they thrived in their own environment, both of them basically having sex anywhere in the house. whether it was in the bedroom, the living room— or even in the shower.. home was their favorite place to be.

₊˚⊹♡ M : MOTIVATION (what turns them on?)

seeing each other be parents. for rafe, he loved how impossibly sweeter you had become. you were even more willing and softer than before, and he admired that greatly. you didn’t let the stresses of motherhood consume you, you just let him take the reigns whenever you needed a break. that established trust, love, and respect offered a reassurance that made both of you feel secure. as for pogue!sweetheart!reader.. she loved how protective rafe was. the constant need to have a hand on her at all times, the fact that he followed the sidewalk rule without you ever bringing it up, never walking ahead of you, never allowing you to touch door handles or carry anything, it all contributed to you feeling safe and taken care of.

₊˚⊹♡ N : NO (what they wouldn’t do/turn offs)

degradation. babydaddy!rafe refuses to call you names and/or embarrass/humiliate you. not just because you’re the mother of his child, but he just overall can’t bring himself to speak to you in a degrading manner. the one time you asked him to be a little bit mean in bed he felt so bad afterwards, it immediately felt wrong and neither of you didn’t like it. another thing that’s a big no in the bedroom is anything that causes you pain. deliberately hitting you, choking you without you asking for it, pulling your hair so hard you yelp— those are just a few that are on the list of don’ts!

₊˚⊹♡ O : ORAL (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc..)

between you and rafe, rafe is the one who can’t keep his head out from between your thighs. he’s definitely a giver more than a receiver and he wouldn’t want to have it any other way. he eats you out for his pleasure, and of course for yours too, but nothing gets him off like having you squirm and whine his name while you finish around his tongue. his slow and calculated movements have you trembling in his arms in no time, his end goal being you making a mess all over his face. he never failed, but god, would it wear you out afterwards. limbs so weak they felt like dead weight, your eyes blinking in and out of sleep from the force of your mutiple orgasms, but most of all— and rafe’s favorite part; your post orgasm(s) glow with that familiar fucked out expression etched onto your pretty face.

₊˚⊹♡ P : PACE (fast and rough or slow and sensual?)

slow and sensual has been their go-to from the very start. no rushing, no urgency, just them in their own little world where no one else exists. these two are more on the vanilla side, but they prefer it that way. rafe has always made sure to be relatively gentle with you, never speeding up or punctuating his thrusts unless you ask him for it (which you always do). you’re trailing soft kisses along rafe’s collarbones when he decides to ground himself into your core, his pubic bone rubbing your clit in hard and heavy circles. the sensation has your back arching into his chest, both of you staring deeply into each other’s eyes as he slowly but surely made you cry out in sheer pleasure.

₊˚⊹♡ Q : QUICKIE (their opinion and how often they do it)

they aren’t too keen on quickies, nor do they partake in them either. the only time they had a quickie was before pogue!sweetheart!reader was pregnant and rafe had to leave really early for a work meeting. there was no time for foreplay or aftercare, and rafe hated leaving you right after the deed was done (no worries though, he made up for it later that night). you giggled to yourself when rafe texted you nearly an hour later after he left, the words ‘why do i feel like a douchebag who just hit it and quit it??’ illuminating your phone screen.

₊˚⊹♡ R : RISK (do they take risks, etc..)

well.. they’re parents now, so ‘taking risks’ is one way to put it. they still aren’t taking precautions or using contraceptives so it’s safe to say that babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader are ‘risking it’ every time they need to get their hands on each other.. and while they’re not entirely closed off to having another baby, it’s not really their goal to get pregnant again, so that’s a topic of discussion they still need to have. their last resort ‘solution’ (since neither of them is really concerned to begin with) would be the pull out method.. and to say rafe’s pull out game was pathetic would be an understatement.

₊˚⊹♡ S : STAMINA (how long can he last?)

besides the fact that they already take their time, these two can go at it forever. marathon sex has been something they have indeed done on multiple occasions, not including the time they spent together in the beginning of their relationship when it was an everyday thing. babydaddy!rafe lasts relatively long only because he has to force himself not to cum too early until you’re cock drunk and hysterical by the time he fills you up— and even after that, he still takes pogue!sweetheart!reader round after round until she taps out..

₊˚⊹♡ T : TOYS (do they own or use any sex toys?)

babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader use toys (a vibrator) very rarely. they both have to be in a spontaneous mood to use the vibe that sits at the bottom of pogue!sweetheart!reader’s panty drawer. the only reason why they don’t use it normally is because rafe already has her finishing with little to no effort, considering he knows her body like the back of his hand. when they do use it though, they don’t stop until it needs to be charged again. rafe has way too much fun overstimulating you until your thighs lock around his hand and you have tears rolling down your cheeks.

₊˚⊹♡ U : UNFAIR (how much they like to tease)

pogue!sweetheart!reader is a spoiled princess in the sense that babydaddy!rafe gives her everything she wants. there’s no teasing, no denying, no holding back when it comes to pleasing you. if rafe wants to hear you beg, then maybeee he’ll refrain from toying with your clit while your hips move desperately for some much needed attention. however, he’ll never make you go without getting what you ask for. the only ‘teasing’ that you do is when you wear something special to sleep to get rafe riled up, but of course, you find yourself folding to his advances just minutes later..

₊˚⊹♡ V : VOLUME (how loud are they?)

in the beginning whenever babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader started having sex again after the baby came home, they were far too scared that the baby would wake up if they made the slightest sound, so for about two months they were doing everything they can to minimize noise. covering each other’s mouths, biting down on their lips, biting down on each other, muffling moans with pillows, whatever it took to make sure they were quiet, they did it. but whenever you and rafe just needed a small break, wheezie would stay the night with the baby at tanneyhill, which meant you two had the house to yourselves, and there was nothing that can keep either of your volumes down.

₊˚⊹♡ W : WILDCARD (random headcanon)

babydaddy!rafe who can’t help but ask pogue!sweetheart!reader if he could fuck her tits. he’s watching her do her skincare routine from the bedroom, her pretty nightdress not doing anything to keep his eyes from running down the curves of her breasts, the sheer, pink material leaving nothing to the imagination as her nipples peeked at him through the fabric. pogue!sweetheart!reader let out a small sigh when she finally finished, her skin feeling warm and buttery soft once rafe took her in his arms, his hands not-so-subtly inching up her torso until he was groping her through her nightdress. “you’re gorgeous, baby,” rafe whispered softly, his voice dropping down to that dangerous baritone that made you bend to his every will, “how about letting me fuck these tits, hm?”

₊˚⊹♡ X : X-RAY (what’s going on in his pants?)

babydaddy!rafe is slightly girthy, but has more length than anything. your brain always goes blank at the sight, especially when he’s lining up with your entrance and you just know his tip will be nudging your cervix with every thrust. he stays cleaned up for the most part, considering he takes pride in both his hygiene and cleanliness. he has a slight curve that never fails to make you see stars every time he hits that sweet spot inside of you, your mouth falling open as a string of moans echo in his ears. rafe knows what he carries around, and god does he know how to use it.

₊˚⊹♡ Y : YEARNING (how high is their sex drive)

prior to having the baby, their sex drive was at an all time high. not only were they getting in multiple sessions a day, they quite literally couldn’t go without being in bed with each other for extended periods of time. whenever rafe had to go on the mainland with ward for some ‘cameron development’ stuff, he would come back to you and show you just how much he missed you, each orgasm hitting you harder than the last. however, now that the baby was here, the amount of ‘sexy’ time they shared had expectantly been cut down. knowing how tired each other must be, it has never been considered an inconvenience, nor a problem.

₊˚⊹♡ Z : Zzz (how fast do they fall asleep afterwards)

not as fast as they would like to, i’m afraid. although they could fall asleep right after the deed, they always take advantage of this time to take turns watching the baby while the other showers and gets ready for bed. thankfully, rafe always lets you go first, all of the day’s tension washing away as you scrub your body with rafe’s favorite body wash. whenever the baby is down, and you two are finally ready to call it a night, you’ll settle underneath the comforter as rafe’s arms wrap tightly around your waist, his chin resting in the curve of your neck. “same time tomorrow?” rafe teased, only feeling satisfied once he heard you laugh.

[wendichester]

ON MY SEASON 8 OF SPN REWATCH AND OMG IM SOBBINGGGG

S8 E20 ( pac-man fever ) ABOUT 39:00 INTO THE EPISODE WHERE DEAN GIVES CHARLIE THAT LIL KISS OMG IM SO TOUCH STARVED PLEASEEEEEE I NEED SOMETHING LIKE THAT 💔💔💔

( if you’d be willing to write some VERY fluffy fluff. like. so fluffy it hurts fluff. i need fluff so bad. ( honestly i think i just need to be held by dean and have that lil kiss. that would fix me. ) love you lots!! mwah! )

-🔆

𓂃⋆.˚ every quiet thing,

pairing. dean winchester x reader ( gn )

wordcount. 484 genre. so fluff it hurts

notes. i hope u know ur requests always bring a smile to my face 😙

You wake up slow.

The kind of slow where the world is still blurry, and everything smells like cotton and skin and sleep. The sheets are tangled somewhere below your waist, the blanket half-off the bed, and the first thing you register is warmth.

Not just warmth. Dean.

His arm is slung heavy over your middle, palm flat against your stomach like he’s guarding something precious in his sleep. His nose is pressed behind your ear, breath soft and warm and rhythmically steady. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the tickle of stubble brushing your skin with every sleepy exhale.

He’s still asleep. Mostly.

“Mm,” he hums against your neck. “You’re awake.”

His voice is rough with sleep—thick, warm, lazy. The kind of voice that makes you want to stay in bed forever.

You smile without opening your eyes. “Barely.”

Dean shifts just enough to pull you closer, his arm tightening around you. His legs tangle with yours, bare feet nudging yours like he needs every inch of contact possible.

“Good,” he mumbles. “Stay like this. Just a little longer.”

You hum in agreement. There’s no place else in the world you’d rather be.

After a moment, Dean presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then another, higher up. And another—right behind your ear, where it makes you shiver just a little.

“You always kiss me awake,” you murmur, turning slightly toward him.

Dean grins sleepily. “’Cause I get to. ’S like my favorite thing.”

His hand skims up your side, fingertips drawing lazy patterns over your shirt. You crack one eye open and catch the sight of him: messy hair, crinkled pillow lines on his cheek, lips parted just barely, green eyes soft and half-lidded with sleep.

And you swear, he’s never looked more real.

Dean leans in and presses his forehead to yours. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” you whisper back, still groggy, still melted into him.

He kisses your nose. Then your forehead. Then the corner of your mouth.

And then he says it—soft, like it’s a secret he only remembers to tell you when the world is quiet and still.

“I love you.”

It’s not the first time. But something about hearing it in the early hush of morning, when you’re both still wrapped in sleep and skin and each other—it makes your chest ache in the best way.

You kiss him back. “I love you, too.”

Dean smiles like you’ve just made his entire day before it’s even begun. “Damn right you do.”

You laugh into his shoulder, and he holds you tighter.

The sun’s rising outside the window, slow and golden. But inside, it’s just you and Dean—safe in a bed that smells like love, wrapped in a morning that doesn’t need anything more than soft kisses and sleepy “I love yous.”

And honestly?

You’d like to wake up like this for the rest of your life.

ꔛ. all works ; writing guidelines ; support my work .ᐟ

[sammywritesweirdness]

Childhood! Bestfriend Bakugou who doesn’t even hide how your the only exception. Ever since you both were kids, he’d tell everyone how he’s going to marry you when your both older, helping you with scraped knees and chasing you around the playground when he didn’t want to play with anyone but you. Bakugou would hold your hand if you’re scared of walking into your class as kids, he’d share his snacks and you’re the only one he’d share his toys with. In middle school, Bakugou would grow rougher around the edges, even to you, but not as much. He’d be there for you when your dog died, still share his snacks and stay by you during lunch or study hall, he’d walk you home just so he’d know your safe but he’d still be gruff, rude and mean to everyone, sometimes even you but he always came around and tried to make it up to you. in private Bakugou would be softer, sitting on his bedroom floor, the tv playing with a dumb movie as you two ate popcorn, he’d simply be quiet and listen to you, chuckling slightly when you do something to make him laugh. In middle school when you both have your first dance, he’d take you without even considering anyone else. He’d match his tie to the lace flowers on your dress, give you a twirl and a slow dance, hold your hand and gently dip you as embarrassing as it would be for him.. he’d do it for you, you might even get a gruff ‘you don’t look.. terrible’. Bakugou would look at you like you hung the stars, looking at you with kindness and a almost gentle gaze, everyone could see how his eyes would shift from a glaring fiery rage or annoyance, to instead be softer and lovey.

In high school not much changed, but he grown to be softer, even if he had a lot to go. But Bakugou would be so obvious on his favoritism towards you. He’d have a specific and special nickname for you, calling you it ever since you both were kids and if anyone else calls you it they would be tackled to the ground by him in an instinct. Bakugou would be seen sharing his water bottle with you after training, watching you spar against another classmate like a referee ready to call out anything they do thats wrong. When there’s another dance, there’s not even a word on who he’s going with, every dance you two went together, almost like a ritual, you two went. Bakugou would still match his tie to your dress, give you flowers and a gift, still twirl you around and dip you once more like those years in middle school, but this time with no embarrassment and instead with pride. Bakugou and you would still have sleepovers like you had as kids, still sleeping in the same bed too. Him sprawled out in a star fish position, taking up most the bed, snoring loudly. The blanket falling off both of your maybe on the floor or almost there, but his sheer body heat was enough for both of you, plus he was always touching you, either a hand or foot on you, a arm across yours, or a leg tangled in yours, just like when you both were kids. He’s always been having to touch you when going to sleep during sleepovers, it allows him to know you’re still there. As kids you’d fall asleep under the covers, a flashlight on and your faces both smooshed against the story book pages after you spent all night reading it and whispering what it meant and him saying how he’d be a knight for you before you both fell fast asleep. His mother definitely taking photos of you both.

As a pro hero Bakugou wouldn’t just say he’s going to marry you but instead make it his goal, he’s already achieved his of becoming a pro hero, he know just needed to have you as his.. even if you have been for the past decades of knowing each other. He’d still stand in front of you and any danger, maybe helping you with your costumes as he said they were too ‘revealing’ and maybe even having a agency together. You’d both have sleepovers at each others apartments, maybe cooking together in his kitchen or talking about life on your balcony. Your his only exception, you’re the only one he shows his favoritism towards, by the nicknames, the touches and the way he looks at you.. Bakugou wouldn’t act like this towards anyone else

A/N: might redo this but tumblr didn’t save this the first time I wrote it and it PISSED me off

[azzibuckets535]

Sick

pairing: paige x azzi

Summary: Paige woke up one day feeling sick and Azzi had facetimed her but quickly realized Paige was sick and showed up with snacks, tylenol, and lots of cuddles.

a/n: okay this is my first time writing a fic so bare with me. i’d love to know ur thoughts and everything! okay i hope u like this and lmk if i should make this a mini series or just a one shot!

Warnings: fluff

wc: 1.2k

———————————————————————————

Paige woke feeling undeniably sick. The back of her throat burned and her nose was so stuffed, she could barely even breathe. Not to mention how oddly hot she was in the Connecticut winter cold.

She groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes to shield her from the morning sun she was not ready to face. “Great,” she muttered under her breath as she got up and walked to the kitchen to grab a box of tissues.

When she returned to her room she closed her blinds and got straight back under the covers of her bed, not even bothering to get ready for the day.

Just as she got tucked in and was ready to fall asleep again, her phone buzzed from somewhere in the sheets. She groaned again and scrambled to find it and when she did her annoyance quickly disappeared and her face lit up.

Incoming FaceTime video: Az 💗

She quickly answered the FaceTime and was met by Azzi’s soft morning face and her sleep-ruffled curls, her face immediately softening. This was their thing, morning FaceTime whether it was just 5 minutes, they made sure they always saw each other in the mornings.

“Hi, baby,” Azzi started with a soft voice and smiled through the screen

“Hi,” Paige replied followed by a sniffle and a smile back. Her blue eyes immediately softened in awe as Azzi smiled the smile only reserved for Paige.

Azzi’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked at Paige with a questioning face.

“Are u okay baby?” Azzi said after a moment.

“Yeah,” Paige shrugged. “just a common cold, you know. It's winter so I probably just caught it in the air. But I’ll prolly get past it in like 2 days.”

The blonde replied, not even noticing Azzi’s expression shifting — half concern, half suspicion.

“Oh alright, P. You need me to grab anything for you or anything?”

“No I can take care of myself baby,” Paige said followed by a soft sneeze into her hoodie.

Azzi knew Paige a little too well to fall for the ‘I can take care of myself’ lie. She knew that this meant Paige would lie around all day and do nothing to actually help her sickness go away.

“Okay baby I’ll come over with snacks and some medicine, okay?” Azzi had offered— well technically told Paige.

“No, Az, really— I’m fi—“ Paige had started, but Azzi quickly cut her off

“Yeah, okay. See you soon bighead.” Azzi said and blew a kiss before hanging up so Paige couldn’t protest any further.

Not even ten minutes later, surely enough there was a knock on Paige’s dorm door. And even though she had told Azzi not to come, she couldn’t help but grin to herself knowing Azzi had actually come.

Her body still ached from the sickness she had been lounging in all morning, but the warmth spreading across her chest made it easier to get up. She pushed the blankets off her body and dragged herself slowly but surely out of her room and to the door. When she opened the door she was met with Azzi’s stupidly cute face holding tylenol, Tru Fru, a teddy bear, and Paige’s favourite blanket— the one Paige would tend to steal whenever she was in Azzi’s dorm.

Azzi stood at the door and just smiled for a moment, at her girlfriend who looked so cute despite the sickness that was clear in her eyes and the way her hair had been pulled back into a low bun and still slightly tousled from sleep. When Azzi was done analyzing the blonde she said a soft little “Hi” and smirked at Paige.

Blue eyes met brown ones and Paige still wore the grin she’d when Azzi had first knocked. “You actually came.” She said, even though she knew Azzi would.

“Of course I did bighead.” Azzi said, pushing past Paige and placing the stuff on the counter. “You really think I was gonna let you rot in your sickness all day and do nothing to actually help yourself?”

“Now close the door and go wait in bed. You literally look half dead.” Azzi had said and her smirk growing with the last sentence.

Paige didn’t even dare to argue back. Just closed the door and rolled her eyes before walking back to her room with that same toothy grin.

As Paige was sitting in her room waiting for Azzi, Azzi was in the kitchen making Paige a cup of hot chocolate smiling to herself at how cute and soft her girlfriend was when she was sick. And Azzi couldn’t help but think of how lucky she was to be able to take care of Paige when she was in this state.

The microwave timer going off quickly pulled Azzi out of her thoughts as she moved to take the hot chocolate out of the microwave. She stirred it slightly before picking up the teddy bear, blanket, Tylenol, Tru Fru, and the hot chocolate and heading straight for her girlfriend's room.

When she entered the room Paige was sitting on her bed with her white comforter pulled over her legs as she sat against the headboard. Azzi’s smile returned quickly as she entered.

“Hey baby” Azzi said softly as she put the hot chocolate and the Tru Fru on the nightstand beside Paige and tucking the teddy into Paige’s arms while wrapping the blanket from her room around her.

“Open up” The brunette said while holding two Tylenol’s in her hand. Paige did just as she was told and opened her mouth so Azzi could dump the pills into her mouth followed by handing her the hot chocolate to swallow with.

“Baby come sit.” Paige said as she swallowed the pills and patted the spot beside her for the younger girl to sit.

“I thought you could take care of yourself, hm?” Azzi teased while walking around the bed and joining Paige under the covers.

“Shh.” Paige just replied as her head dropped to Azzi’s chest and her arm instinctively draped across Azzi’s waist.

As Paige cuddles in she can’t help but notice how soft Azzi’s grey team USA hoodie is and how she’ll definitely be stealing it next time she’s in her dorm.

“Can we watch a movie?” Said the blonde.

“Of course, baby.” Azzi said back, kissing the blonde’s temple and running her fingers through her hair while scrolling through movies.

Of course Azzi had known Paige well. But Paige had known her just the same amount to know that Azzi wanted to watch Frozen, but was too shy to ask Paige for the third time that month. So without Azzi needing to say anything, Paige spoke up.

“You wanna watch Frozen?”

Azzi’s eyes lit up. “Maybe..? But it’s up to you baby because you're the sick one here.” Azzi said with a tone that really said ‘it’s up to you but please pick Frozen.’

Paige simply just let out a small giggle before sighing. “Alright baby, put it on.” She huffed despite the fact she could basically feel Azzi’s excitement radiating off her skin.

10 Minutes into the movie, Azzi felt Paige’s breath even out and she was unusually quiet. Azzi looked down and sure enough, Paige had fallen asleep.

“I love u bighead” Azzi whispered before pressing a soft kiss to her temple and continuing to finish Frozen as the Connecticut snow fell outside the window and Paige rested on her chest.

[toxicanonymity]

The Pull

CLARK KENT x SUPERGIRL!READER | 3640 words (18+)

SUMMARY: No one was as fiercely good as your cousin. No one did as much good, either. Then, one Sunday night, you got a glimpse of another side to him. Maybe he could be a little bad after all... if you were lucky.

NOTES: First time writing Clark. Not comic-savvy but i loved Superman 2025 so much omg. Kink warning banner by me and you can use it. other dividers by saradika-graphics. I hope y'all have a great start to your week! ❤️

WARNINGS: 18+, sexual tension, fluff, banter, ⚠️ cousinly incest, the lightest somnophilia, feeling, groping, masturbation, voyeurism, size difference, size kink

His old apartment didn't have a guest bedroom, and for a while, he didn't mind sharing his king bed when you visited. He was a sound sleeper and unbothered by your moving around. A handful of times, you woke up with your head on his shoulder and hand on his chest, with his arm around you. 

You and Clark were close, and there’d always been healthy affection between you. You didn't have to call him “Clark” in private, and certainly not in your head, but it helped to think of him that way. Sometimes you'd revert to “Kal,” often when you were drunk. But you liked “Clark.” Admired his commitment to journalism. Liked the way he looked in his work clothes and those glasses.

You and Clark texted and talked on the phone about your days, your plans, your hopes and dreams, and even mused about traveling together like normal people if life would ever allow it. You’d wait in lines, take public transportation, and go through airport security. It put a smile on your face to imagine Big Blue crammed into a plane seat designed for the average human. Even in Business Class, it would look like one of those little tykes chairs. The man was massive. 

You'd come stay with him whenever you pleased. Whenever you got lonely, though you wouldn't admit that's why you were there. You didn't say it out loud - you didn't have to. There was a lot you didn't have to say out loud to each other. 

There was one night where he offered to take the sofa, and that night, the sofa was where you both fell asleep after watching a movie. That was where he held you in against his front, almost like a teddy bear. He kissed the crown of your head just before falling asleep, and he probably didn't even know what he was doing when he cupped your breasts in the middle of the night. 

When you woke up to one big hand spanning both your nipples, your breath hitched and desire swelled deep in your gut. His fingertips were tucked under your arm, holding his hand in place. The slow rhythm of his chest against your back told you he was still asleep. You took a deep breath, tits swelling against his hand.  And then, you registered the massive bulge against your back side, a burst of need shot through your chest. It was warm, thick, and not quite stiff at that point. But almost as soon as you felt it, the package swelled against you through his sweatpants. Not quite stiff, but not soft, either. The heft of it was startling. 

Then it twitched, and your every neuron lit up with a message right from his cock: He was a man, and you were a woman. You would fit together just right, and it would feel so, soooo good. 

It was a message he didn't mean to send, but one that would echo forever. A message your hormones would never let you forget in his presence again. Cousins or not, metahumans or not, there could be something between you. 

In that moment, a hardening cock was between you, and your pussy was slickening itself extra for the size of it.

Not daring to move, you took deep and measured breaths until your heartrate slowed again and you were close to drifting off. In your half awake state, your bottom pushed back against him, and a barely audible grunt escaped his lips as his hips returned the push, making you swoon and gush. 

Fuck. 

FUCK.

It was more excitement than you could remember feeling… ever.

More arousal than any man on any planet had ever managed to make you feel…. and he did it…in his …sleep. 

Genuinely wondering if you’d ever been so horny, only one memory came to mind as a contender: a pretty face between your legs in the backseat of a car one night. Her name was Mona. Maybe that was why the man of steel seemed more at ease with you in his bed back then. You’d only ever brought girls to meet him. 

One night, when the two of you were catching up over sushi, you’d seen an assumption fall away from Clark’s face all at once. 

He asked if you were seeing anyone. 

“Define seeing,” you’d laughed.

”You having fun?” He rephrased with a smile. ”Yeah? Tell me about her, heartbreaker…” That was Clark-speak for ‘slut’ (affectionate).

With a playful, evasive sparkle in your eyes, you paused for a sip of sake, then asked, “You sure it's not a *him*?” 

It was still so clear in your memory: The way his face opened, his eyes darted to your lips, then his gaze fell down your body. It was subtle, but it made your cheeks warm. He cleared his throat, and the friendly banter returned to his eyes. “Yeah? Is it a lucky guy this time?” 

His eyes followed your arms as you crossed them and sat back. 

“Are you x-ray-ing me for cum right now, you fucking pervert?” you accused with a big laugh. 

“Am I? Whaaa–no,” he stumbled. “Gosh, Kara,” he laughed with his cheeks flushing pink. He would never, and you couldn’t resist teasing him. 

After a good laugh, he continued, “I just…” he swallowed and his eyes searched the sushi bar behind you before meeting your gaze again. “I'm happy for you,” he said. “Whatever, whoever makes you happy…makes me happy.”

You shared a sincere smile and could still see him processing behind the new slight squint of his handsome, blue eyes…. He might have been wondering when this started, or whether you’d always been bi. Maybe even how many guys you'd fucked (in sheer, judgment-free curiosity, of course). He probably wasn't wondering how much dick you could take, though. That would be too far for Clark. 

“Well you wouldn’t find anything down there,” you added a few seconds too late to sound casual talking about hypothetical cum.  He'd already abandoned that topic mentally, so you glanced down to your skirt and added, “today, anyway,” with a coy shrug. 

“Hey, I don't wanna know,” Clark raised his hands with a smile, and the subject was changed.

Despite your body buzzing with need, you’d managed to fall back asleep at some point. No doubt about what you were dreaming of. 

By the time Clark woke up, it was 4:00 am. Something felt good, really good, and it was throbbing against you, thick and stiff. Then, something felt wrong. “Good….golly,” he whispered to himself, pulling his hips back and letting go of your breasts. 

He reached between you to adjust himself with a quiet, self-loathing grumble. He stayed where he was, but moved his hand to your arm instead, softly brushing your forearm with his thumb. With a deep breath, his massive chest pushed against your back, then he let out a sigh, relieved to be safe from the primitive reflexes that had awoken in his sleep. He rested his chin on your hair. After a few minutes, he pressed a light kiss to the crown of your head, then scooped you up as easily as a teddy bear as he exited the sofa, all without waking you up. He carried you to his bed, tucked you in, and left you alone.

When you woke up to the smell of bacon frying and coffee dripping, you didn’t hear music like you normally might have. He wanted to let you sleep a little longer while he tried to shake off what just happened. For all he knew, you weren’t aware, and you acted like nothing happened. 

In the kitchen, Clark’s forearm flexed as he whisked a bowl of eggs. When you walked in, he smiled to himself like he had a surprise. 

“French toast??” You asked in exaggerated disbelief.

“It's your lucky day,” he confirmed.

You hopped up onto the counter to watch him cook. Dangling your legs playfully, you resisted the urge to play footsy with his thigh. Your shorts weren’t quite visible under your loose button-down shirt. You turned around to find his portable speaker, then twisted away from him, got up on your knees, and reached down the higher counter for it. With a brief glance back at him, you hoped to see his eyes on your ass, but his gaze was studiously fixed on the batter. You brought the speaker with you and turned it on. 

“God, you've got such a sweet tooth,” Clark chuckled. “I dunno how you eat it. There's no flavor!” he teased. 

“That's what maple syrup is for,” you shrugged. 

“You want maple syrup instead of powdered sugar?” he asked. 

“No, I want both.” 

“Gah-lee,” he laughed. 

“You should try it. You’re always telling me to give stuff a chance,” you reminded him. Not this kind of stuff, of course. Normally people, actually. Clark liked to believe in the good in people. He believed in giving them a chance. 

“You want me to eat French toast for breakfast?” Clark laughed. 

“Yep,” you said. “Can I make the bacon”

“Yeah, alright, but not too crispy,” he cautioned. 

“SO crispy,” you replied. 

He shook his head with a smile, beat the whisk on the side of the bowl, and set it down. You hopped down off the counter and gave his butt a playful little pop as you passed behind them. 

“Hey!” he objected in good humor. 

Clark didn’t mind cooking a full breakfast on a workday. You admired that about him… about morning people. Responsible people who went to bed at a reasonable hour and woke up with energy. Never hungover. You reserved leisurely breakfasts for the weekends and treated weekdays as a chore to get through, but to Clark, every day was deserving of enjoyment. 

At the breakfast table, you sliced a nice juicy bite of french toast and held your hand under it as you stood up. With a forward tilt of his head, he gave a look of false admonishment, raising his eyebrows. When you brought the bite toward him with a devious smile, he relented to the joy in your eyes and opened his mouth. You sat down and propped your head on your cheek, watching him playfully. 

He didn't react at all.

“Well, you don't hate it,” you observed.

He finished chewing and swallowed, jaw muscles flexing. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It tastes like nothing. It's just sugar, cous.” 

You shrugged and kept eating. “It’s really good,” you said with your mouth full. Then swallowed and added, “My compliments to the chef.”

With half a smile and one dimple, he nodded in mock pride. 

You cut another piece, dipped it in maple syrup, then sprinkled powdered sugar on top and looked up at him with mischief in your eyes. 

“No,” Clark shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he raised a giant hand in protest. 

“Come on, try it.” You leaned toward him. 

He pulled his head away, leaned back and even pushed his chair back. He was trying to be serious, but could have broken into a laugh at any moment from the look in his eyes. “I've still gotta go to work. That much sugar is gonna have me crashing in an hour!”

“Oh, come on. Your metabolism is ridiculous.”

“The people need my journalism, Kara. I can’t be passed out at my desk.” 

“A second bite of french toast isn’t gonna make Superman crash,” you giggled. 

He took a sip of his coffee, set it back down, then folded the Daily Planet paper, and held it with one hand. 

His chair was still pushed back. 

After a moment, you popped up out of your seat, fork in hand, stepped toward his chair, and swung your leg over his lap. Straddling those muscular thighs was a nice deep stretch in your groin. Your legs were spread so far it was almost hard to balance. You couldn’t reach the floor with both feet at the same time. 

“Whoa, okay,” Clark said and put the paper down with a chuckle. .

His eyes followed the buttons on your shirt to where the fabric met his sweatpants, then his gaze returned  to your face with a little groan of complaint. His eyes softened, and he began to open his mouth, then your balance faltered. He caught you and steadied you with both hands on your waist, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“You good?” he asked.

Being that close to his face, with both his hands on you, you really were good. The need you felt made you lightheaded. 

His enormous hands idly slid down to your hips. Desire sizzled in your belly and pooled between your legs. You heard yourself let out a nervous giggle, and your face heated. 

“Alright, come on, goofball,” he said, then opened his mouth wide. 

You fed him the most overdressed abomination of a bite of french toast you’d probably ever seen. 

When you pulled the fork from between his lips, his eyebrows went up, his mouth scrunched, and he chewed a couple of times, and then swallowed.

“Geez louise,” he coughed, then leaned forward and stole your glass of orange juice. As he reached behind you again to put the juice back, his eyes fell on your chest for a moment, where your shirt had fully unbuttoned and hung open. 

He looked at his watch. “Alright,” he patted your thighs. “Daddy's gotta bring home the bacon.” 

You laughed. “You’re gonna bring home the bacon to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” he agreed with a self-deprecating smile. Then held you by the waist once more, lifted you off his lap, and set you aside, then picked up the paper. 

Curious if you’d left a wet spot on his gray pants you glanced at his lap and you didn’t see a wet spot, but what you did see in the corner of your eye made your breath hitch. It was only a split-second before he was holding the newspaper in a way that casually blocked his crotch. You looked away, and tried not to look back, but your heart swelled at the idea of him turned on by having you in his lap. It filled you with yearning. You sat down and made a point of looking at your plate as you scarfed down your toast. 

Clark was stuffing bacon into his mouth. When the plates were empty, you got up to take them to the sink. You looked back on your way to the kitchen and saw him adjust himself before standing up. God, those pants should be illegal. “I gotta get dressed,” he announced, still holding the newspaper. “See you later, okay?” 

You turned the hot water on in the sink and left it soaking the dishes. Then, with a spring in your step, you crossed the kitchen to give him a hug. 

He crouched down to meet you, and you put your arms around his neck. While his arms squeezed, his lower body wasn't as close. “Have a good day,” he whispered. “You got your key?” 

He began to stand back up, and for a moment you thought about jumping him. Refusing to let go of his neck, making him stand up with you attached, then wrapping your legs around him. 

“Yeah,” you agreed without acting on the impulse. 

He kissed you on the cheek and said “Good.”

For a moment, it stung that he seemed to want you to leave, but at least you had a key. “Be good,” you smiled. 

“I'm always good,” he reminded you playfully, then tousled his hair with one hand as he turned toward his bedroom. You watched him disappear into his bedroom, then he threw the newspaper onto his bed, reached over his back and took off his shirt. 

God, he was hotter than any man on earth. No wonder Luther hated him so much. Clark’s shower turned on. Luther probably wanted to fuck him, too, you figured. You pondered it as you did the dishes, then you let yourself out. 

-

Your cousin’s hug goodbye had felt like he was pushing you out the door, but the further away you got, it felt like his energy was pulling you back. The sensation was physical. Unmistakable. 

As you exited the elevator on the ground floor, the magnetism from the penthouse slowed your steps.  It was as though gravity was holding the two of you together, and you were more bound by the pull between you than Earthly physics. 

You said goodbye to the concierge and stepped outside. Gazing into the sky, you were saddled with too much desire to take flight. The pull from the top floor of the building was making your blood hum. Each step you took, it was like you were fighting the will of your body, or some other force within you. Each step, anxiety built–butterflies swarmed in your tummy and fluttered up to your chest.

Clark couldn’t have been more than a few minutes behind you. If you lingered, you could walk with him on his way to work. 

When he hadn’t come out after a few minutes, and the butterflies hadn’t left your chest, you went back inside. 

“Should I call Mr. Kent?” the concierge asked. 

“No thanks. I called him,” you lied with a smile. 

You weren't sure why you were being so much quieter than usual, until you stepped off the elevator on the penthouse floor and heard your cousin's  breathing. A regular human wouldn't have heard it, but you did. His heart thumped in your ears and his breath was crisp and vivid. It was unmistakable, and it made your breath hitch. This breathing was labored, but not like he was in a fight or working out. It was sensual. Littered with almost-moans that caught in his throat. Grunts and gasps. 

Driven by sheer need, you did something Clark would never do to you. You stood outside his apartment, put your hands on your hips, and your eyes tingled as you peered right through the wall. And then another wall. In the bathroom, he was standing with his feet spread, pants unzipped and unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled up, one half of his shirt tail out, his hand wrapped around his thick, stiff cock.

Weak in the knees, you braced your hands on the outside wall of his penthouse suite. You wet your lips and took a deep breath, then held it, listening to the squish of his palm around his shaft. Each stroke was palpable between your legs. Tension seeded in your belly. It twisted and wound itself tighter with each heavy breath that hit your ear. 

Your blood felt dizzy under his panting, He was stifling deep moans for no one but himself in the mirror. He didn’t look in the mirror. He looked down. A perfect, dark curl was falling onto his forehead. His massive biceps stretched his white shirt, and his undertank was visible. The back of his work shirt was still tucked in, accentuating the silhouette of his profile. 

“Ohh,” he moaned. “Gah…nn–Ughhhgh.” His hand sped up, 

With one hand still on the wall, you slid your hand into your still mostly-unbuttoned shirt. Squeezeing your thighs together, you grabbed your breast and whispered, “fuck.” It sounded like he could be getting close. Your cunt was throbbing, and your panties were soaked through. The tension in your belly couldn’t wind itself up any further.

He approached the sink, turned on the water, and braced his furthest hand on the mirror. His lips curled toward his nose and his chest heaved with a scowl as the rhythm of his hand sped up. He closed his eyes. 

Abandoning your breast, you brought the heel of your palm to grind against the outside of your shorts, and the tension snapped. Pleasure seized your core, and your thighs trembled. You braced both hands on the wall and shuddered with the pull and push of your orgasm sharpening your nipples and giving you goosebumps. 

Clark’s lips parted, and he groaned as he pointed his load into the running water. His hips pushed forward with each rope, unleashed it like a fire hose. “Ugh—ah–ughhhhh,”he groaned as he came. 

As he finished, he exhaled loudly and tilted his head back, displaying his masculine veins and Adam's apple. The skin of his neck was clammy with a cold sweat. Catching his breath, he glanced in your direction and you stopped watching, allowing the walls to become opaque in your vision once again. 

You rested your forearm against the wall, your head against your forearm, resting, catching your breath.

It could only have been a few minutes before Clark’s front door opened. 

“Kara?” he asked. “You okay?” He squinted and stepped toward you, placing a gentle hand on your back. 

You lifted your head from your forearm and looked at him in a daze. He was wearing a full suit and his glasses. His aftershave smelled so, so good. Especially as your imagination made you detect a whiff of something else under it. 

“Yeah, I…I got lightheaded,” you admitted. 

He raised his eyebrows and gave an I-told-ya-so smile. “Don’t tell me a little french toast made Supergirl crash…” 

You smiled, and he pulled you off the wall. You looked up at him hopefully and he opened his arms.  “Alright, come here,” he offered.  “But I’m putting you down half-way there…”

“And then I’ll carry you the rest of the way,” you offered as he began to walk down the hall with you on his hip like a toddler. 

“Forget about it,” he laughed. 

“I could,” you protested.

“I know you could! Can you imagine me getting dropped off to work that way?” 

“It’d be good for your cover,” you pointed out. “Clark can’t be Superman…did you see his ride to work?”

You shared a laugh and an intimate glance. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving a comment about what you enjoyed, which helps me write more of them. More to come if there's interest. I've drafted the next part and god it's so hot I could barely finish writing it 😳 - but haven't thought far beyond that next part yet. ❤️❤️

masterlist for this fic (once there's more)

superfam - @supergirlincestblog @cosmickid-inmotion @aurorawritestoescape

[makeyoumine69]

Storm Sex

SYNOPSIS: Bruce wakes in the dead of night, thunder rolling outside—but it isn’t the storm that pulls him from sleep. The nightmares still find him, relentless and cruel. And yet, in the quiet dark, it’s your touch, your presence, that gently pulls him back to something real… something safe. You are his calm after the storm.

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

TAGS: NSFW, smut, fluff, established relationships, unprotected sex (p in v), body worship, pet names, dirty talk, maybe something more... :D

WORD COUNT: Less than 1k

A/N: That fic was based on the results of this poll.

MASTERLIST | BRUCE WAYNE MASTERLIST

Bruce woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, and no—it wasn’t because of the thunderstorm raging outside. It was that same nightmare, the one that haunted him every damn night. Panting, he sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard, one hand pressed to his muscular chest, slick with sweat. Meanwhile, you were sleeping soundly next to him, completely unaware of what was going on inside your boyfriend’s head.

You and Bruce had only recently started dating.

No matter how many times he tried to warn you, saying that what he did for the city could put you in danger—you made it clear that nothing would come between you and Bruce. He was more than grateful for that. For your trust, for opening your heart and giving it to him. He had promised to keep it safe in his hands for the rest of his life.

The thunder grew louder with every flash of lightning, casting eerie shadows on the walls and causing the windowpanes to shudder. Bruce considered getting up to check them, but the second he moved, you were already on your side, eyes open, blinking at him with confusion and pure innocence.

“What happened, Bruce?”

He froze in place, momentarily stunned by your soft voice. Slowly, he turned toward you, and even the darkness couldn’t hide your beauty. Bruce let out a quiet sigh, then shifted to lie beside you, his hands already moving to your waist, stroking your skin in gentle circles.

“Nothing happened, darling,” he murmured against your forehead. “Just pouring outside.”

You wrapped your arms around him, hiking one leg over his body to anchor yourself to him. He was so warm—somehow soft despite the stone-hard muscles beneath his skin. To you, he felt like a giant plush teddy bear.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry if I did,” Bruce whispered, brushing his nose against your cheek. One palm traced a slow line along your spine, sending chills and coaxing you to arch into him. “What can I do to help you fall back asleep?”

The moment your eyes locked, words became unnecessary.

Your lips were parted when his mouth found yours, and you buried your fingers in his thick, dark hair, rubbing the nape of his neck and pressing your body closer. Bruce groaned into the kiss, his tongue slipping inside you. When you sucked on it, taking it in deeper, his cock ached—it twitched in his briefs, pressed firmly against your lower belly.

“Mmh, Bruce,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. “I think I’m burning.”

“I know, dear.”

Your white tank top was already bunched up, so Bruce only needed a single motion to slip it off you entirely. The storm kept rumbling outside, but neither of you cared. Breathing heavily, he considered rolling on top of you—but instead, he let you stay side by side, facing each other, limbs entwined. Even your breaths seemed to tangle together, as if you were one being.

And you couldn’t wait.

Your hand slid up and down his muscular torso before dipping lower. The trail of hair down his abs made you smile. You’d done this so many times before—casually slipping his briefs down, letting his cock spring free, its red tip already creamy and brushing against your stomach. You had to bite your lip the moment you wrapped your fingers around it, giving it a firm squeeze and feeling a warm drop of pre-cum on your skin.

“Want you, Bruce. Want you so bad,” you murmured before he kissed you again, his hips pushing forward for friction. “Want you deep inside. Really deep.”

Bruce whispered some sweet nonsense into your ear as he circled your nipple with his fingers. Then he pulled on it—just to hear you mewl so fucking deliciously.

“You’re gonna get what you want, sweetheart.”

It took only one second for him to tug your shorts down and position himself at your dripping entrance. You weren’t drooling—but wet enough for him to slide in smoothly. Still, you whimpered, because the stretch was overwhelming. Too good. Too fucking real.

“A-ah, Bruce,” you moaned, voice trembling against his ear.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

You obeyed. Your body felt like it was made for him, welcoming him in with grace. Bruce grunted when he bottomed out, one hand resting behind your neck for comfort, the other gripping your hip more roughly as he began to thrust. The wet, obscene sounds of your pussy filled the room, louder than the thunder outside.

“Good girl,” Bruce rasped suddenly, setting a faster rhythm as he started pounding into you. “I...not gonna...let you go... ever.”

Writhing in his grip, you closed your eyes, leaning forward until your foreheads touched. “I’ll... never... do this... Bruce!”

You nearly screamed his name—he had hit your most sensitive spot. This position was perfect for it. He knew it. So he did that same thing with his hips again. Because he loved you. He loved you so fucking madly, and watching you unravel like that was the greatest gratification he’d ever known. And those nightmares only fueled his need to protect the world—because you were a part of it.

You were his world.

Now and forever.

Thank you for the reading!💓 Please follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update!

[drippingyellow]

Payback

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (no outbreak/au)

Summary: One noisy gift from Tommy wrecks Joel’s and your peace. Years later, Joel gets his sweet revenge.

Word Count: 1.8 K

Warnings: no outbreak, no y/n used, no reader description, no real warnings, just domestic fluff, established relationship - marriage, kinda grumpy Joel (but he is just a tired parent), Sarah and Ellie are Joel’s and your biological kids, soft Tommy, best uncle Tommy, Maria and Tommy are married, Benji is also mentioned, brotherly love and teasing.

A/N: Hello, kind people! First of all, thank you so much for the love you showed my first fic, Normal people - it truly means the world to me!🥹 This short and sweet fic was inspired by the toy microphone I found in the box of my old stuff. I assume that I drove my parents insane with that, and I can easily imagine Joel going through something similar. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Dividers credit: @/saradika-graphics

Joel and you sat on a brown leather couch in your living room in complete silence. Your knees are touching, and you are just staring silently in front of you. Both of you are exhausted from today's events, and having put the girls to bed just moments before, you need to recalibrate your thoughts before doing anything else.

“I’ll kill ‘im,” Joel says while laying his head onto the couch and sinking into it deeper.

“I’ll let you,” you say, half chuckling, closing your eyes and moving to rest your head on his shoulder.

“That fucker,” Joel whispers more to himself as he is angling his body to embrace you. 

After a long, silent moment, all that can be heard is Joel's and your snoring, which you will deny if ever brought up as you fall asleep on the couch.

Earlier today, Tommy and Maria came to visit you. You were so happy because you hadn't had a nice family day since Maria’s birthday. Tommy practically ran from the truck and into the house, beaming, holding two bags - one for Sarah and one for Ellie. Maria came in after him, laughing at her husband's antics. After greeting each other, you tugged Maria into the kitchen to show her your first successful sourdough bread that was baking slowly in the oven while Joel and Tommy sat in the living room. As he sat down, Joel eyed the bags suspiciously. 

“Whatcha got in them bags?”

“Just a lil surprise for my nieces,” Tommy said proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s the occasion? It sure ain’t their birthdays,” Joel raised his brow and looked over his brother's face.

Tommy scoffed, “Can’t a man spoil his girls ‘cause he loves ‘em? What are you now, the damn gift police?”

Joel rolled his eyes and was just about to give him a piece of his mind when girls came downstairs giggling and screaming, “Uncle Tommy!”

Both girls threw themselves on him, hugging him tightly. He hugged them back, just as tight, one arm around each of them.

“My darlin’ girls,” Tommy said, looking over both of their small faces. They hadn’t noticed the bags yet because Maria and you entered the living room.

“Aunt Maria,” Sarah first yelled, and Ellie followed after her, both hugging her before she had time to crouch down on their level. 

Maria laughed while being attacked by small hands. “I missed you, too, girls,” she said fondly.

You and Joel watched the exchange quietly with so much love for your small family. You love Maria and Tommy so much. Both are such good, hardworking, honest people, and you were grateful that your girls have people like that around them growing up.

Joel looked at you and motioned for you to sit beside him, so you plopped yourself on the armrest of the old armchair while Maria sat opposite off you on the couch next to Tommy. 

Girls' attention was now on you and Joel, already climbing to squish themselves on that same poor armchair. They keep forgetting that they are 6 and 5 and not so small anymore, but that is not stopping them from trying.

“Sarah, Ellie, I got y’all a lil’ somethin’,” said Tommy while reaching for two identical pink bags that he put next to him on the floor. 

They both looked at him with wide smiles and excitement in their eyes. Scrambling over to him, each reached for one bag. Opening the bags, you couldn’t tell who was more excited, them or Tommy. Tommy was trying to contain his excitement by bringing his fists to his mouth and gently biting his hands. Maria chuckled at him while Joel and you were trying to curiously peek into the bags.

Girls gasped as each pulled out a purple, glittery microphone with a big diamond heart glued in the middle of the handle. 

Joel deadpanned as soon as his brain caught up to what he was seeing and turned to you to see dread wash over your face. 

“Y’all like them?” Tommy damn near squealed, eyes darting from Sarah's face to Ellie's, trying to capture all their emotions. 

“YES! YES! YES!” both of them shouted, happily bouncing on their feet.

“Sarah! Now we can sing all Barbie songs!” Ellie said happily.

Sarah nodded excitedly, turning to look at you, “Can we sing now? Please, Mom, please,” she folded her small hands begging you. 

“Uh, sure girls, but I don’t know if we have any batteries left for them,” you said truthfully while Joel gave you a side glance that said you are an angel sent from heaven for thinking that fast on the spot.

It’s not that Joel or you don’t want them to sing, far from that actually, you just don’t want it to be fifteen times louder than necessary, especially after a long workday for both of you.

“Don’t worry, I done put the batteries in and I brought a couple more packs too,” Tommy said happily while pulling two more battery packs from his jeans, still oblivious to the daggers Joel is shooting at him. 

“Oh, that’s just peachy,” Joel said louder than necessary, causing Tommy and Maria to look at him. You lightly slapped his shoulder to remind him to be nice.

Girls were pulling their microphones from the boxes when you said, “What do we say to uncle Tommy and aunt Maria?”

Both of them looked at you and then turned to them and almost at the same time said, “Thank you, uncle Tommy, thank you, aunt Maria.”

“Can we go sing in our room?” Sarah asked. Joel nodded, and they giggled as they ran upstairs, and you almost immediately heard happy singing-screaming into the microphones. 

Joel's mouth betrayed him with a small smile before he turned to his brother, who was also smiling fondly. 

“Boy, have you lost your damn mind?” Joel huffed, crossing his arms across his chest and staring at Tommy.

You and Maria silently looked at each other, then at your husbands.

“What?” Tommy asked, genuinely confused.

“You got any idea what you just done? You handed ‘em a weapon - for our ears,” Joel said while uncrossing his arms and running one hand over his face.

Tommy sat there dumbfounded, still not realising what was wrong. He scratched the back of his neck while he spoke, “Well, you said they’re all into them Barbie songs, movies and whatnot…so when I saw them mics at the store, it made me think of ‘em. I love them girls, just wanted to see ‘em smile, is all.”

Joel sighed and looked over at Maria, who immediately put her hands up, smiling, “You know how he is when he sets his mind on something. There’s no changing it.”

“Yes, I know. Sounds like someone I know, too,” you said sarcastically, looking at Joel.

He just rolled his eyes at you while sighing again, he couldn’t be mad at his younger brother. Especially not for loving on his babies like they were his own. He actually couldn’t ask for a better brother, but he would never tell him that, at least not straightforwardly.  

“Sorry ’bout that, I sure do appreciate it, and as long as they’re happy, that’s all that really matters,” Joel said more relaxed now, “you just ain’t gonna realize what you done till y’all become parents yourselves,” he continued, chuckling under his breath. 

“Well,” Maria said gently, one hand finding Tommy's and the other resting lightly on her invisible bump.

Tommy squeezed her hand and began, “Yeah, that’s one of the reasons we ca-” you cut him off by jumping up from the armrest and borderline yelling, “No way!”

“Yeah, you two are finally getting the uncle and aunt status,” Maria said, teary-eyed. 

You quickly crossed the room to her, hugging her just as she stood up and whispering through your tears, “Congratulations! I'm so happy for both of you!”

Joel stood up and embraced Tommy in a thigh hug while clapping his shoulder, “Congrats brother, you are so in over your head now,” he said jokingly.

You moved to hug Tommy while Joel hugged Maria, both of you saying your congrats once again.

“Oh shit, my bread,” you remembered as you ran into the kitchen just in time to pull out a golden brown loaf of bread from the oven.

The three of them laughed at you from the living room while you yelled from the kitchen, “Everything is fine, the bread is okay.”

You came back to the living room after letting the bread rest before dinner. All four of you fell into conversation about work, kids, birth, and everything in between while the girls sang their hearts out in their room upstairs.

After dinner, the girls moved their singing to the living room and continued to sing along to the cartoon on TV long after Tommy and Maria said their goodbyes.

Your head was now pounding, and you could imagine that Joel felt the same.

“Alright ladies, time to call it a day,” Joel said gently while taking microphones from them and turning off the TV.

They whined a little, but you were quicker, “None of that, you are big girls and you know the rules. Come on now, you need to shower and brush your teeth. Who wants to go first?”

Ellie was already half asleep while standing, so you picked her up and told Sarah, “I will be back for you soon.” She nodded while yawning. 

9 years later

You and Joel find yourselves in front of Maria's and Tommy's house. It’s not unusual, as you often swing by after dropping off Sarah at her dance class and Ellie at her kickboxing class, since both are closer to their house than yours. What is unusual is the big box Joel is carrying up the driveway.

As soon as you enter the house, Benji is all over you and the box after you said it was a gift for him.

“Whatcha got in that box?” Tommy asks Joel, once you all settle into the living room.

“Got a lil’ somethin’ for my nephew, is all,” Joel says with a smug grin.

“What’s the occasion?” Tommy says, once again oblivious to the look on his older brother's face.

“Can’t I surprise my boy just ‘cause I love ‘im?” Joel says, pretending to be offended by the question. 

Tommy just looks at him and nods his head, “Course you can, I ain’t never said nothin’ against it.”

Benji opens the box, and his mouth forms an “o” shape from excitement. “Dad, it’s a guitar! Uncle Joel got me a real guitar! Now we can play together!” he yells excitedly. 

Tommy stares at the two of you in shock while you mouth “I’m so sorry” to Maria.

Joel speaks first, “You said he’s always listenin’ when you play, so I figured I’d get him his own and maybe you can teach ‘im a few chords.” 

Tommy is still staring at both of you, but with all puzzle pieces now connected and Jole laughs at the expression on his face while Benji happily plays with the strings of his new guitar.

[lonely-ey3s]

Heartlines | Chapter Ten

pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader

chapter summary : The aftermath of Harry missing dinner has both of you wondering what can be done to fix what just happened.

chapter warnings: fluff, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), anxiety, SMUT (18+ MDNI), make-up sexual acts (?), m!self-masturbation, soft!harry, dom!harry, flirting, semi-public acts, angst, arguing, somewhat prejudiced behavior from a side character, switched POV's, if I missed anything, lmk!!

word count: 12.5k (today is my birthday, so this chapter is a gift from me to you 🤍)

a/n: just a reminder! chapters will be every other sunday alternating ride or die !!

your feedback is very important to me, and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments, and likes. I hope you like this story. 🤍

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

Reader's POV

The Next Morning - 5:46 AM

You woke to the soft buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand.

The room was dim, bathed in early morning haze. Harry’s arm was wrapped around your waist, heavy and warm. His breath was steady at your shoulder, his body flush with yours. 

It seemed your bodies hadn’t gotten the message — curled into each other despite the quiet rift that had formed. And for a brief second, the stillness made it easy to pretend the last twelve hours hadn’t happened.

Then the vibration came again, this time more persistent.

You carefully reached for your phone and slipped out of his arms, heart thudding as you saw Sophia’s name on the screen and then the time.

This couldn't be good.

You answered quietly, already tiptoeing out of the bedroom toward the bathroom. “Hello?”

“Hey, sorry — I know it’s early,” she whispered back, likely still half-asleep herself. “I just wanted to let you know, Ricky is blowing up my phone saying that he heard from Leslie that Todd is showing up for a surprise audit in an hour. Also, we’ve got a situation with the Lexton Suite reservation. The guest's assistant says we confirmed an extra night, but it’s not in the system, and they’re threatening to leave a review that would make Yelp cry.”

Your stomach clenched and you sighed. “Shit. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Take your time getting out the door, I know it's early...” she offered, her voice still gentle. 

You ended the call with a murmured thanks and stepped into the bathroom, quietly clicking the door shut behind you. The second the lock turned, your shoulders sagged. You felt the weight of everything that had happened. The silence wrapped around you like a second skin the longer you stood there.

Then that’s when you saw it — Harry’s watch.

Resting by the sink, exactly where he always left it at night. It was a quiet, familiar detail that filled your mornings. Something that usually made you smile.

But today, it cracked something in your chest.

You sank down slowly against the bathroom door, your back hitting the wood as you clutched your phone to your chest. Your eyes blurred with tears before you even realized they were falling. Then the sobs came. They were quiet but sharp, buried in your palm as your other hand covered your mouth to keep it in, to keep from making too much noise. The last thing you needed was Harry to hear and come in all pitiful and careful. 

It wasn’t just last night’s weight either. It was everything. It was the week of barely seeing each other after paradise in the Maldives. It was the missed plans, the long hours, the lingering fear that Rebecca’s cruel words were coming into fruition, your own insecurity whispering that this couldn’t last. The fear that someone like him would always drift back to a world more like his, not you.

And the worst part? You hated yourself for it. You hated that you let it get to you. That you were letting the fear sink its teeth in again.

You stayed there for a few minutes, just breathing through it. Letting yourself feel it, purge it, get it out of your system before the day demanded you pull it together again.

Eventually, you rose slowly, still shaky, and turned the shower on. The water ran hot as you stepped under the spray, hoping it might rinse away everything — the tears, the fears, the stupid ache of knowing things weren't where you wanted them to be.

When you finally stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Puffy eyes. Red nose. A brave face half-assembled.

You didn’t have time to fall apart. Not today. Not with Todd on his way and half your staff probably on edge already.

So you pushed it all down. Buried it deep and shut that part of yourself off.

You told yourself that you’d dress quickly and quietly. You’d move through the apartment like a ghost. Be careful not to wake Harry. But when you cracked the bathroom door and crept back into the bedroom, the sound of the shower cutting off must’ve roused him.

Because as you grabbed a skirt and blouse inside the closet, slipping both on quickly, making your way toward the dresser, you heard his voice call for you to come back to bed.

Harry’s POV

The first thing Harry registered was the sound of the shower cutting off, followed by the soft creak of the bathroom door and the faint rustle of drawers inside of the closet. He blinked awake slowly, eyes adjusting to the early morning light streaming through the curtains.

You tiptoed through the bedroom, grabbing things as you moved.

He sat up slightly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Hey,” he said, voice rough. “Come back to bed for a second.” He held out his hand to invite you back.  

You didn’t even glance at him, focused on getting out the door after the early call that woke you. “I can’t,” you said, slipping a small earring into place, looking at yourself in the mirror in the corner of the room. “Sophia called. Todd’s showing up early to do a full audit — today of all days,” you sighed, looking and sounding annoyed with the situation.

Harry let out a low groan, sitting up more to give you his full attention. “God, I’m sorry, querida. I thought he wasn’t due til the end of the month?”

You gave a faint, humorless hum in response and reached for your thigh-high stockings in the dresser, “Yeah, me too. Imagine how quickly I got out of bed…” You quickly slid them on, fastening them to a garter under your skirt, then smoothing down your skirt. 

As you crossed the room toward the door, he swung his legs out of bed, standing in only his sweatpants, watching you with growing unease. The air between was thick — not angry, but it felt wrong. Fragile in a way that made his gut twist more than just a few hours ago.

He followed you down the hall as you made your way toward the kitchen, tugging on a dark gray tshirt. “About last night…” he started, “I know I screwed up. I’m so sorry, mi vida. I really am.”

You kept your back to him, gathering your things from the counter: your phone, keys, and pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“I was thinking maybe I could come home early tonight,” he added gently. “Pick up dinner? Eat out on the balcony, we can make it romantic with some candles and music...” He suggested.

There was a pause. Just enough for him to hope.

But then you looked over your shoulder, your voice quiet and even. “It’s fine. We’re both busy — still are, it seems.” 

Harry stood still at the end of the hallway, watching you like he didn’t recognize the air between you. You were never this cold, this shut down — he didn’t quite know how to navigate this.

You sighed, mumbling something to yourself while you looked for something, then moved towards the entryway, grabbing your badge and putting it on your waistband before putting on your coat and heels, eyes focused, voice even again. “Plus, you’ve got that shareholder meeting this evening anyway.”

His voice cracked through it, low and strained as he said, “If it’s fine, then why can’t you look at me?”

You froze mid-motion. Your fingers tightened around the lapel of your coat before you slowly turned to face him — but still didn’t meet his eyes.

“Don’t do that,” you said, voice soft, frayed. “Don’t—”

“Don’t what? Don’t ask why you’re shutting me out? Don’t ask what I can do to fix this?” He asked, keeping his voice even but strained, taking a couple steps forward, attempting to get closer to you. 

You unconsciously stepped back, looking down at your purse as you picked it up, “You just—” You huffed out a breath then, “You don’t understand, Harry,” you snapped suddenly feeling pressure to get out the door but then navigate this conversation, your voice louder than you meant to. “You think saying sorry will fix it? Or coming home all gentle and sweet will make everything okay?” 

You exhaled through your nose, visibly upset as you tried to find the right words, “You just don’t get it.”

His mouth parted, stunned, but his eyes didn’t leave you. He took a step closer, careful not to push a boundary you were trying to put up. 

“I want to understand,” he said, desperation roughening his voice. “Tell me what I’m missing. What can I do?”

You looked up at him, your eyes glassy now, and for a second, he thought maybe you’d let it all pour out. But then your lip trembled as you whispered shakily, “I don’t—”

His brows were drawn, deep creases folding between them, shadowed by the dim glow of the early morning light coming in through the window. His mouth parted slightly, trembling on the edge of saying more, but every syllable already felt like a plea. His jaw clenched like he was fighting to keep it together — not out of anger, but desperation to fix what he broke.

His eyes, dark and glassy, were fixed on you — wide with unease, like he was trying to understand how things had gotten so far, and if there was still time to fix it.

“I don’t want to have to tell you, Harry…” You said, shrugging defeatedly. 

“Then what?” he took another step forward, voice cracking with desperation. “What can I do? I can’t apologize? I can’t try to make it right? What is there left for me to do? I can’t turn back time, cariño—”

“I don’t know, Harry!” you nearly shouted, your voice cracking now. “I don’t know what I need! I don’t know what I want, I just—” You turned away and sniffed, quickly wiping a couple of tears that had fallen down your cheeks. “I need to go. I can’t do this right now.”

He reached for you, not forceful, just desperate — hand brushing your arm as you turned toward the door again.

“Please don’t go like this,” he said, barely more than a whisper. “Please. Let’s talk it through, let me make it up to you. We fix things, right? So let’s fix it.”

You shook your head, overwhelmed and spiraling, the pressure of the morning and last night pressing down so hard it hurt to breathe, “Harry, stop…”

That’s when your phone dinged.

Harry’s voice faltered as your phone lit up in your hand, “Baby, please…” 

Sophia 6:12 AM: I just arrived, and Todd's already trying to boss me around. Ugh! Men, right?

You swallowed, closing your eyes as the tension in your chest gave way to urgency.

“Shit,” you mumbled, looking at the text briefly.

He took a step closer, head tilting to try and find your eyes once more. “Just tell me this — will I see you tonight?”

You opened the front door, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag.

“I’m sure I’ll be home late with the audit,” you said softly, trying to hold the emotion in that was edging on spilling out. “You don’t have to wait up, I know you have an early morning tomorrow...”

He wanted to reach for you again. To pull you into him and make you stay until the wall between you cracked enough to let the truth back in. But all he could do was chase your presence with his eyes.

“Of course I’ll wait up,” he said softly, stepping forward to place a hand on the edge of the door, close to yours — chasing you quietly, helplessly.

You stopped just for a moment, like you might turn around, that maybe you changed your mind, and you'd stay.

You took a deep breath, then went to say something, but just as you opened your mouth, your phone started to ring — loud and harsh, echoing down the hallway. 

Incoming Call: Sophia

“Shit,” you muttered again. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this… I’ll just— I’ll see you later, okay?” Your voice had gone flat again. Now numb and guarded. And when you looked up at him, only for a second.

Harry saw it. 

Your eyes were red-rimmed and tired. The remnants of tears you hadn’t wanted him to see clouded your vision. 

He felt his gut sink further, and his chest ached as you lifted the phone to your ear and answered, already turning down the hallway, “Yeah, I’m on my way, Soph… no, leave that to me.” 

And just like that, you were gone down the elevator.

Harry stood frozen in the quiet that followed. There was something hollow in his expression. Like your silence was cutting him deeper than any screaming match could. Like the guilt was eating at him second by second.

When he finally turned around, the kitchen greeted him like an ugly guilt trip. It still held the remnants of what you’d prepared the night before. 

He saw how you got his favorite Thai takeout from the bag that was still on the counter. He saw how it remained in neat little boxes in the fridge. He saw the special dessert from that overpriced bakery he loved. It was tucked in beside a bottle of open wine on the island. 

He walked over slowly, picking up the container to see a small note stuck on the side in your handwriting: ‘I’ve missed you this week ❤️’

His chest ached at it all.

"God, I’m such an idiot." He said to himself.

Last night hadn’t just been about missing dinner — it was about you knowing he was missing you just as much as you were missing him.

It was about missing a moment you’d put so much thought and effort into. It was about how he’d let work and a few drinks pull him away without even noticing.

Reader’s POV – Midmorning

Since returning from the Maldives, your world had snapped right back into motion with barely a moment to breathe. 

Today was no exception. In fact, it was the icing on the god damn cake. Between everything that had just happened, this was exactly what you didn’t need. 

Todd’s surprise audit of internal operations had thrown the entire staff into overdrive unexpectedly this morning. Sophia was doing her best to help hold things down while you ran around to put out fires before he could see them. 

This week has been overwhelming, to say the least. Between the massive cosmetic surgery conference and celebrity clients checking in for Fashion Week, it felt like there weren't enough hours in the day.

Still, you’d tried to carve out one last sliver of your evening last night — putting in the extra effort, even though you were exhausted, even though you knew Harry had been buried under Clarkson’s thumb with the latest mega-client, you tried. You’d put in effort to spend just a few hours, uninterrupted, with the man you had been missing more than you could put into words. 

But then to have him ignore your texts all night? Then to come home past midnight? Tipsy? Pitifully apologetic?

And then this morning? 

God, this morning did not go how you wanted or needed it to go. 

You felt horrible that you snapped at him, gutted that you allowed yourself to react that way. You didn’t know why, but it hurt that he watched you walk out the door like he didn’t know how to stop you. You thought he was different, that this would all be different.

All you wanted him to do was to make you stop and look at him, to snap you out of this stupid fucking headspace — to make you late for stupid Todd because he would be too busy making it right somehow.

The ache in your chest had only grown tighter as the stress of your morning fueled it more than you’d like it to. 

You stepped into the back corridor near the service elevator, tablet in hand, making your way toward your office when you heard him down the hall — Todd fucking Rogers.

His voice carried like it always did — loud, smug, prissy, and sharp around the edges.

“I asked to show me the fresh towels,” he snapped. “These smell like bleach,” he scoffed. “Jesus — is this your first day?”

You rounded the corner just in time to see him waving a folded towel in front of one of your housekeeping staff's face, Rosa. A woman who’d been working here loyally for nearly ten years. She looked flustered, her gloved hands twisting in front of her apron as she murmured something in broken English back to him.

Todd scoffed and tossed the towel onto the maid’s cart like it had personally offended him by touching it. “I swear, every time I come here, it’s the same thing. You people can’t get even the basics right.”

You stopped in your tracks at the venom he just tried on one of your most hardest-working staff members. Your blood boiled.

Rosa’s eyes flicked up the second she saw you, apologetic — like she was bracing for a reprimand from you next.

You stepped forward, voice calm but icy. “I’m sorry, but is there a problem, Todd?”

He turned, blinking at you like he hadn’t expected you to appear from thin air. “Yeah, there’s a problem. These towels are substandard. They smell like chemicals. And this one—” he gestured toward Rosa with a flippant wave, “—has clearly never been trained on proper procedure.”

Your jaw locked, fingers tightening around your tablet.

“First, I suggest,” you said slowly, “you lower your voice when speaking to my staff.”

“She’s just housekeeping..." he argued.

“She’s Rosa,” you snapped. “And she’s worked here longer than either of us has.” You put your hand on her shoulder, signalling support for her. 

You continued, “Second, if the towels smell like bleach, it’s because this hotel follows strict sanitization protocols. May I remind you that they are strict protocols that you signed off on last quarter.”

Todd’s face began to flush, but you weren’t done.

“Lastly, if you have a complaint, you bring it to me after your audit is complete. You don’t bring it to someone doing her job well and without complaint.” You stepped forward and looked at him from the bottom up, eyes filled with disgust and judgment, “Just because you’ve decided you’re above showing basic human respect for those working in our trenches here at the Ritz does not mean I’m going to allow it.” 

The corridor had gone quiet. You could hear a pin drop.

The few other housekeeping staff members nearby were frozen, listening like a fly on the wall. 

Sophia stood a few feet away now behind you, frozen as well with wide eyes.

Todd’s mouth opened like he wanted to respond, but you raised your hand slightly and gave him a look that made it very clear you were done playing nice.

“If you have immediate feedback going forward,” you said with a brittle smile, “email me or come find me. Otherwise, I suggest you get back to your audit and let Rosa and my staff do their jobs, yes?”

He stared at you for one more beat, then huffed and turned, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared down the hall and into the elevator.

You exhaled sharply and nodded once, satisfied.

Rosa gave you a timid smile and nodded her thanks before rolling her cart down the hall.

Once she was gone, Sophia stepped forward, blinking slowly.

“Okay, that was kind of badass,” she said, “but completely out of character for you.” She huffed a small chuckle. “Are you okay?” she said more in a joking tone than a concerned one. 

You closed your eyes and leaned back against the wall, letting the marble cool your spine.

“No,” you said. “Not really.”

Sophia frowned almost instantly, realizing your tone. “Oh, shit... What’s going on?”

You hesitated, rubbing the back of your neck. “Harry and I had our first fight last night."

You shook your head and shrugged, thinking back to it, the frustration building back up slightly as you continued, "We had plans — or were supposed to have plans." You sighed.

"I picked up dinner, dessert… even wore something new just because I missed him.” You looked down at the floor before saying sadly, “He didn’t show up until past midnight.”

She winced, “Ouch.”

“He was a little drunk and tried to be sweet about it, but I… I was hurt. Gave him the cold shoulder… I didn’t want to fight, but I didn’t want to just move on, you know?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustrated about how you may have handled the situation.

Sophia nodded as she bit her lip and listened, giving you her full attention. 

“Then this morning, when I tried to get out of the house, let myself have today to just… clear my head, get some space… he kept trying to talk about it. And at one point, I snapped. I think I may have yelled at him. I just—I couldn’t—I couldn’t say anything, I couldn’t make it make sense, I just—” you started to sound wound tight and frustrated, your hands clenched in little balls as you explained. 

Sophia’s expression softened. “You froze.”

You sighed, letting go of the tension, and nodded, looking at her. “I didn’t want to? But all those old voices came roaring back last night. The ones that say I’m too much or not enough. That someone like him… won’t stick around for someone like me."

Your voice cracked as you said, "Or what Rebecca said, ‘The fairytale magic ends and he’ll move on.'..." You bit the side of your cheek to stop the tears from pouring out.

Sophia sighed and linked her arm with yours, tugging you into motion gently to walk with her down the hall. “Can I offer some friendly words of advice?” 

You hummed, “Do I have a choice?” 

She rolled her eyes playfully but then continued, “First off, fuck Rebecca! That snake doesn’t deserve to occupy your mind, so get that bitch out, please and thank you.” 

You chuckled and nudged her, “Ok, point taken. We both hate Rebecca, got it.” 

She chuckled then continued bluntly, “Next… you’ve got to stop comparing Harry to the very low standard of the men who have hurt you in the past.”

You looked at her with a guilty look because, as much as you hated to admit it, she was right.

She shrugged. “Look, we’ve known Harry passively for a while now, right? As a guest, he’s always been respectful and kind, tips generously, and treats everyone more than fairly.” 

You let out a soft sigh and nodded, listening.

She continued, “He’s not them, though, not the ones who hurt you. But he is going to mess up, because he’s human. But if every time he does, you hear someone else’s voice instead of his… that’s not fair to either of you.”

Tears threatened to prick your eyes, but you blinked them back and swallowed down the emotion.

Sophia squeezed your hand. “Go. Take a walk, get some air. You’re no good to yourself or our team in this state of mind. I’ll handle the schedule for the next few hours.”

You opened your mouth to argue.

“Nope,” she said, holding up a finger, letting go of your arm. “You know I can handle it. Now go. I’ll cover. You need to figure out what you want to say to him… and then actually go say it.”

You stared at her, grateful beyond words. Then you nodded.

Because you knew she was right.

Harry wasn’t perfect. But neither were you, and somewhere in the spaces between missteps and misunderstandings… 

There was always going to be the chance to try again.

After walking through the park for almost two hours, rehearsing what you were going to say, replaying everything in your head from last night and this morning, and thinking about how every possible outcome could go — you finally headed to his office.

However, you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. It felt too vulnerable to just walk in and say, “I’m sorry I froze you out. I'm sorry I yelled. I’m sorry, I expected perfection. I’m sorry I let my fear speak louder than my love.”

So, you let your feet carry you down the street with a quiet sense of purpose.

Seb’s Subs was just a few blocks from his building — his favorite quick and easy lunch. The cashier, Andre, recognized you instantly, boxing up his usual with a wink and smile.

It wasn’t a grand gesture. But it was something — call it a peace offering.

By the time you stepped into the elegant lobby of Stonebridge Capital, your nerves were a mess of tension and hope.

It had only been a few hours since you left him standing in the front doorway, but it felt like days had passed.

You missed him. And more than that, you wanted to fix this. You wanted this to be different than every other relationship, you didn’t want to run.

“Y/N?”

You turned toward the front desk to find Peter, Harry’s assistant, already standing with a warm smile and a coffee in hand, talking with one of the girls at the front desk.

His familiar presence pulled a surprised laugh from your lips, giving you the first real smile since last night.

“Hey, Peter,” you said, suddenly a little bashful.

“My my, does this mean I get to witness another legendary lunch delivery?” he teased.

You laughed again. “Yes, sir! Figured it worked like a charm the first time…” You shrugged with the bag in your hand. 

“He still talks about it, you know? Says it was the best way to find his office after one of Kent’s slideshow torture talks,” he grinned. 

You snorted and tsked, “Is that what he came from? One of Kent’s famous PowerPoint presentations?” 

He chuckled, then looked down at his tablet to message Harry. “Want me to let him know you’re here?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “No, no. I was hoping to just… surprise him… again? Is he in or busy?”

Peter glanced at the time and nodded. “He’s in a meeting, but it should be wrapping up soon. Just across the hall in the main conference room.” He glanced over to the area he was in. 

You felt a little flutter in your chest, similar to the one you felt when you first did this. “Would it be okay if I waited in his office?”

Peter grinned like he was in on a delicious secret. “I’ll smuggle you in… We’ll make this one an actual surprise!”

You looked at him confused, “Was the last one not?” 

He tutted and rolled his eyes as he came over and looped your arm with his as he leaned in to gossip, voice low, “Between you and me, last time, I swear he knew somehow or had a heads up.”

You chuckled, “Oh? How so?”

He began walking you through the office, “The man asked me to reschedule an important meeting out of the blue and then was huffing into his palm… checking his breath! You tell me he didn’t know something…” 

You giggled softly. “Fair point. Alright then, in that case, smuggle me in.”

The two of you quietly made your way down the hallway, careful not to pass the glass-walled conference room as Peter led you around the back hallway, away from direct sightlines. 

He paused at Harry’s office door and pushed it open for you.

“Go ahead,” he whispered. “I’ll make sure he ends up here afterwards.”

You smiled warmly. “Thanks, Peter. It’s so good to see you again.” You touched his arm gently and gave it a small squeeze. 

He nodded and disappeared with a wink, the soft click of the door closing behind you settling into the silence of Harry’s office.

You hadn’t been in here since that first surprise visit weeks ago. The room was still sleek, still commanding — tall windows overlooking the skyline, dark wood paneling, and brushed brass accents — but this time, it was different.

It was warmer, more lived-in.

And if your eyes didn’t deceive you, there was more of you.

The first thing you noticed was the photo proudly on display on the edge of his desk — one from the Maldives, where you’d both been half-sunburnt and laughing, hair wild and windswept. You didn’t even remember him asking someone to take it but you remember him showing it to you proudly and saying, “This one’s going in my office!”

You thought he was just saying that to flatter you.

You stepped closer and smiled softly as you picked it up, heart skipping, butterflies fluttering.

Beside it sat a delicate glass jar of seashells, hand-selected — one of them still had a trace of glittering sand in its crevice.

They were shells you two gathered while walking back from dinner each night. A little ritual Harry suggested to remember your time together in paradise.

You had a similar jar on your desk with his shells and he had this jar with yours.

You set the frame back down, and your eyes drifted across the space as you took it all in.

On the bookshelf: the tiny stuffed penguin keychain from your aquarium date. It was one he said was “ridiculously overpriced”, but bought anyway when you wouldn’t stop smiling at it because it looked like him when he dressed for work, oddly enough. You smiled to yourself at the memory. 

Your eyeline saw pushed under his desk-mat calendar a folded napkin from that initial afternoon coffee shop date — the one where you knew then and there he was in it for the long run.

On the whiteboard behind his desk, between strategy notes and deadline reminders, you saw something scribbled in the corner on notepad paper:

Flowers: Roses Tulips Ranunculus Sunflowers Lilies?

You blinked once you’d realized what it was.

He’d been keeping a list. 

You turned back to his desk, now noticing small sticky notes scattered along the edges of his monitor — each one a memory, a reminder, a breadcrumb of you:

“Don’t let her forget to eat on Wednesdays.”

“Pick up that book she mentioned for the trip.”

“Her goddaughter’s (Rosie) first day of school is at the end of the month. Remember to ask how it went.”

“She mentioned needing an oil change when we get back. Research either how to do it or have Ted take it to a shop.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

This man—this confident, composed, guarded man—had slowly built a shrine to your life together. Quiet, unassuming. As if it were the most natural thing in the world to weave you into the very fabric of his daily routine.

And all the while, you’d been spiraling. Panicking. Letting old fears and insecurities gnaw at the roots of something that had only ever grown from love.

You lowered the takeout bag and coffee gently on his desk and placed your fingertips over one of the sticky notes. You didn’t even remember mentioning the book to him. Or the exact date of Rosie’s first day of school — but he did.

He remembered it all.

You sank slowly into the soft leather chair behind his desk, the weight of the moment settling into your chest. Not heavy. No, this time — it was absolutely full.

You were his. And despite your worst fears, every detail in this room whispered back:

He’s yours.

Harry’s POV

The meeting had been going on for the last forty-five minutes.

Harry couldn’t recall a single thing that had been said. Not by Clarkson, not by Kent, not even when feedback had been given by others. It was just going in one ear, out the other.

His eyes were currently aimed at the presentation Clarkson was flipping through on the screen — numbers, trends, projected growth — but his brain refused to engage. All he could think about was the look on your face when you’d left just a few hours ago.

Quiet. Guarded. Unreachable. Disappointed.

It was the first morning that you hadn’t kissed him goodbye. And when you did look at him? All he could see was that this one thing he was responsible for broke something in you he didn’t quite know how to fix. 

“Castillo?” Clarkson’s voice cut into the fog of his thoughts, followed by the light nudge of someone's elbow beside him.

Harry straightened. “Sorry. What was the question?”

A few colleagues shifted in their chairs at the out of pocket response by Harry — him not paying attention was new. 

Clarkson shot him a look.

“Need your head in the room, not in the clouds, son,” he said with a tight smile. “We’re trying to keep this ship running, yes?”

“Of course, sir,” Harry replied, trying to sit up straighter and force his focus to cooperate. But his heart wasn’t in it. 

Not when his head was in the clouds — or more accurately, back at home.

Back in the silence that had followed your retreat. Back in the kitchen, where your unappreciated efforts sat on the counter. Back to the look in your eyes when you’d said, “I don’t want to talk about this when you’re obviously intoxicated.” and “I don’t want to have to tell you…”

Back in that bed, where you’d turned away from him and begun construction on that damned wall he had tried so hard to burn down, to blast to nothing but dust over the last few weeks.

‘How did I not see this? How could I have fucked up this horribly?’ Kept racing through his mind over and over again. 

When the meeting finally ended, Harry stood so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. He slipped his phone out of his pocket as he walked towards the door, praying to see your name on his screen. A message. A missed call. An email — but there was nothing.

Peter was waiting just outside the conference room, already flipping through notes for the rest of today’s schedule. 

He wasted no time before catching Harry up to speed, “You’ve got that renewal meeting in an hour — Mr. Laird, the software guy. I put his contract on your desk to review beforehand,” he said as Harry stopped by the water cooler. “And I had coffee sent to your office, and—”

Harry cut him off, “Can you reschedule it?”

Peter blinked. “Reschedule, sir?”

“I’ll call him personally and apologize. I just need to… I’m gonna bring Y/N lunch. Can you call ahead and tell Sophia to keep her there? I need to see her…” He buttoned up his suit jacket and looked at his watch, trying to think where he could stop to get something to eat without it being so busy. 

Peter opened his mouth — and then closed it, lips curling slightly, “Uhm…” 

“What, Peter? What is it?” Harry said with an urgency to his tone as he started walking towards the exit. 

“Nothing,” Peter said, stepping in front of him just as Harry turned toward the front doors towards the elevators. “You should probably just go back to your office first...”

Harry squinted. “Peter, I’m confused—”

“Just trust me?” He looked at him with pleading eyes. 

Harry frowned but turned back toward his office anyway, the unease inside him flaring again. 

‘Has something happened? Did something happen to Y/N?’

He pushed open the door and stopped cold in his tracks.

There you were.

Standing near the window, light pouring in over your shoulders — looking down at the city below. 

It was like the air got knocked clean from his lungs.

“What? What are you doing here?” he asked, voice hoarse as he took a step into the office, hand on the knob. “Is everything okay?” His eyes were soft and concerned.

You looked over slowly, the corners of your lips curving faintly. Your eyes were softer than this morning — not unguarded, not fully healed — but softened.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” He looked at you as if nothing mattered more than your peace—even if it cost him everything.

You didn’t say anything, you just looked at him with a soft, pleading, and loving gaze.

After a moment you walked around the desk to him, slow and sure, and he didn’t dare move — not until your hands were in the lapels of his suit jacket, gently pulling him close, and then your lips were on his, kissing him like you’d missed him with every inch of your soul.

He melted instantaneously, eyes fluttering shut as his hands flew to your waist, anchoring you as close as he could as he kissed you back, fervent and desperate — as if all the tension of the last 24 hours crashed into a single breath.

He nudged the door shut with his foot and, without breaking from your lips, reached back and hit a button on the wall, making the blinds slide shut one by one until the office turned warm and golden and private by the lamps around the office.

“God,” he murmured, lips trailing from your mouth to your cheek, your jaw, your temple. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry—”

You stopped him with gentle fingers to his mouth before cupping his cheek and brushing your fingers against his scruff, looking up to study his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “But I’m the one who should apologize.”

His brow furrowed, but you shook your head and kept going.

“I should’ve just talked to you. Instead of shutting down. I shouldn’t have iced you out like that. I shouldn’t have yelled at you either, you didn’t deserve that reaction.” Your voice was thick with emotion. “But Harry… I missed you. I miss you. I miss us. And this city — this pace… I don’t know how to do this life where we’re constantly running and never have time together.” 

You looked down and slowly slid your hands down his chest, “I just don’t want the two of us to get used to being like this...”

His hands moved up and cupped your face now, his thumbs brushing your cheeks, pulling you back up to look at him. “You’re not alone in that. I miss you, too. So fucking much.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing for a beat.

“If I’d known…” He shook his head, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “If I’d seen how much I was slipping up — how much I was hurting you — I would’ve cancelled the damn thing last night. I would’ve been home before you.”

“It’s not just your fault,” you murmured. “It’s both of us. We got swept back in. I should have been better about checking in.”

“Well, I don’t want to be swept anymore,” he said, voice firm now. “You’re my home, my life. Not work. Not this office. Not these damn clients who don’t give a shit about my time outside these four walls. Whatever I build here, whatever I become — it means nothing if it’s not with you beside me.” 

You opened your eyes and looked up at him before he continued.

“You. You’re the only thing that matters to me.” He leaned his forehead against yours. 

Your eyes filled again, lips trembling. “Harry—”

He pulled away and his hands dramatically flew into the air, “I’ll delegate. I’ll pull back on the evening partners’ meetings. I’ll cancel pointless dinners. Whatever it takes, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

Your palms flattened softly over his chest. “It’s time I took a step back too. Sophia’s more than capable — I’ll promote her and bring in someone new to cover after-hours. I want to start having a life again.” You met his eyes, smiling. “Our life.”

He smiled at you. A real smile — dimples and all. He cupped your face carefully, studying your eyes, “Just don’t shut me out again, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes wide and glassy. “I won’t. I promise.”

He leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time, full of everything he hadn’t been able to say until now. 

Your lips were still warm and swollen from the kiss when Harry pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again. His hands were braced at either side of your hips, his chest rising and falling with quiet, controlled urgency.

“Can you stay for a bit?” he asked softly, almost pleading. “Please tell me you don’t have to rush off back to the office and I get you just a little longer than a few kisses and an apology?”

Your heart tugged at the sound of his voice — deep and roughened with emotion. You opened your mouth to respond and started to nod your head, but the words didn’t even have time to surface because his lips were already on yours. 

He kissed you again — hard and slow — and then turned, still holding you, and walked you backward toward his desk.

“Harry—” you laughed softly through a gasp, bracing your hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t answer. He just swept his arm across the polished mahogany, sending papers, pens, his notepad, and a glass paperweight scattering across the floor in one smooth, cinematic sweep.

You looked back to see the mess and blinked in shock, a small giggle bubbling up, “Man, you have a flare for the dramatics today, don’t you?”

“You deserve nothing less than some good ol’ romantic drama,” he murmured with a smirk, and then lifted you up to sit on the now-bare surface.

Before you could say another word, he dropped to his knees.

“I owe you,” he murmured, eyes dark, voice low. “For last night. For this morning. For every second I wasn’t making you feel wanted.”

“Harry, what about…” you whispered, breath shaky as you looked at the door.

“Don’t worry about that, trust me.” he smirked.

You looked down at him and your cheeks turned pink.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said, already hooking your underwear down and off under your skirt, sticking them into his trouser pocket, exposing you completely to his gaze. “Right here. Right now.”

“Harry,” you gasped, breath catching as his hands slid beneath your dress again, firm and possessive. “We won’t have time for lunch… I—”

“I’ll be quick,” he said, voice already low and full of heat as he kissed up your stockings. “But I’m not skipping this. I need to hear you fall apart. I need to pay for my wrongdoings.” He said before his teeth lightly teased at the lace, snapping it lightly on your thigh before moving further up.

You barely had time to breathe before he was on you — tongue and lips slow, thorough, devoted.

Your head fell back with a soft moan. “Fuck…”

After a few moments of drinking you like you were offering immortality — he slipped a finger inside you, curling just right, his tongue never breaking rhythm. Your hips lifted, legs trembling.

He growled in approval, his finger curling deep as he tasted you with reverence. The kind of hunger that was borderline worship.

You hummed and bit your lip to keep in a loud moan feeling him begin to hit the spongy spot that made you see stars. 

You whined when he began flicking his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, “Fuck— don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” you whimpered. 

Just as the tension coiled and your muscles began to quake, your phone started ringing on the desk somewhere behind you.

You gasped. “Shit—”

“Don’t you dare,” he said without lifting his mouth from you. “Let it ring.”

But when the call didn’t stop and the screen lit up again, you knew it had to be Sophia.

You reached blindly for the phone, breath shaking, and somehow managed to hit answer.

“Hello?” you rasped, voice high-pitched, barely stable.

“Y/N?” Sophia said, the sound of staff noise bustling behind her. “Sorry to bug you, I know I said I’d give you a few hours, but we’ve got a situation.” 

You hummed back a moan and rolled your eyes back as he slipped another finger inside, “What—What seems to be the issue?” you barely got out. 

“One of the VIP suites was double-booked, and the penthouse chef apparently walked out after the event director called him a ‘decorative knife holder.’” She explained with a sarcastic tone in her voice. 

You squeezed your eyes shut as Harry’s tongue flicked just right on your clit. You covered your mouth with your hand.

Sophia went on. “I’ve got bellmen moving furniture into the wrong rooms, a very entitled influencer having a fit in the lobby, oh, and Mr. Kimball is asking for you specifically. Help me?”

Your voice cracked as you forced words out. “Y-yeah. Okay. I’ll… be there in ten.”

Harry groaned and slid another finger in, making you gasp before correcting yourself, “Actually, make that twenty.”

“You okay?” Sophia asked. “You sound… winded?”

You swallowed a groan. “Mmhm yeah. Just… mid-stairwell, you know?”

“Oh, girl. Been there. Take your time but hurry!”

She hung up before you could respond.

You let the phone slide from your hand and barely had time to exhale before Harry sucked hard at just the right angle — you came undone. Body shaking, hands gripping the edge of his desk, jaw clenched tight to keep from crying out his name as he moaned through your orgasm, lapping every bit of you with the kind of reverent hunger that made your toes curl.

By the time you came back to earth, he was standing and leaning over your fucked out body, his lips brushing your cheek, your temple, your jaw.

“You are everything,” he whispered, gently easing your dress back down and kissing your jawline, your cheek. 

You cupped his face, still breathless, smiling. “And you’re a troublemaker, my love.”

He grinned. “You bring it out in me.”

You hummed and nodded, “You’re right, it’s something I love about you.” You said as you leaned up to kiss his lips slowly and ever so passionately. 

He kissed you back, his hand moving up to cup your cheek then slowly thread through your hair and hold the back of your head. After a few, he pulled back and leaned his forehead against yours, his voice soft and sure, “I love you.” 

You took a deep breath and smiled as you said lovingly back, “I love you, too.” 

He leaned in and kissed you a few more times before pulling back and helping you sit up. 

You hopped down from the desk on slightly shaky legs, adjusting your dress and gathering your things. Harry immediately helped, brushing his hands along your sides, kissing the back of your shoulder, then your neck.

“You sure you have to go?” he murmured as he nudged your neck softly with his nose, planting a kiss there.

“I’m the only one who can smooth this type of chaos over,” you said, grabbing your purse and keys. “But I’ll try to be home early. I’ll have to tell you later how I broke Todd. How I may have graced my team with an early departure from his snobby little attitude.”

Harry chuckled, low and deep, “I can’t wait to hear.” 

As you turned for the door, putting your hand on the knob, he reached out for you.

“Wait,” he said, eyes warm, voice soft. “One more kiss…”

You smiled, stepping back toward him as he dipped down to kiss you— slow, deep, lingering.

When you pulled back, cheeks flushed, you whispered, “If you still want to do that candlelight dinner tonight…”

“I’ll make it perfect,” he promised without a second thought. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll have it ready.”

You paused at the door again, looking at him with a teasing glint in your eye.

“Anything?”

He tilted his head, reading you with a slow grin. “What do you have in mind?”

You crossed back, leaned up, and kissed his lips — slow and full of promise — before whispering:

“I want you to use your imagination.”

He stood there stunned, aroused, and grinning. 

You started for the door again, checking your reflection in the wall mirror one last time before you paused.

“Wait,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder. “My panties.”

He blinked once. Then that slow, crooked grin pulled at his mouth.

“Oh,” he said, casually patting the front pocket of his slacks. “Yeah, no. I’m keeping them.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

He took a step closer, gaze heated as he leaned in, voice a low murmur against your lips, his hand on your hip, pulling you against him, against the obvious strain pressing up against his trousers.

“Think of it as a bookmark,” he whispered. “Just a little reminder that I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath caught, legs nearly forgetting how to function.

“I hate how much that works on me,” you muttered before pecking his lips, then turning toward the door again, flustered and flushed.

“Good,” he said, voice rough with satisfaction. “Now go. Be brilliant. And I’ll see you tonight, mi vida.”

You didn’t trust yourself to look back, not with the smug heat radiating off him — and definitely not with the image now seared into your brain of your panties in his pocket while he went about his day like nothing happened.

Harry’s POV

His office door closed behind you— and Harry just stood there for a moment, rooted in place.

Your scent still lingered in the air. A trace of your gloss was smudged at the corner of his mouth. And in his front pocket, a delicate scrap of lace burned against his thigh like a damn brand.

He looked down at it, his lips twitching, “Fuckin’ hell.”

He pressed the button on the wall to open the blinds again, the sharp click of the mechanism jolting him back into reality. The office flickered to life around him — daylight pouring back in, his desk half-destroyed, your imprint still warming the surface. And he still — had a full schedule ahead if Peter didn’t cancel it all.

He dragged a hand through his hair and let out a long breath.

“Focus,” he muttered to himself, already knowing it was a lost cause.

By the time he made it to his contract renewal meeting, he was ten minutes late, tie half-loosened, and barely hanging on as his lips still tasted of your sweetness.

Clarkson raised an eyebrow across the table as he came in, in a bit of a scramble, still flushed from earlier, “Jesus, Castillo. You look like you just ran a marathon.”

His curls fell onto his forehead as he reached to grab a copy of the contract. Since your hands were just holding onto them while he devoured your sweetness — he’d not been able to properly tame them back. 

“Something like that,” Harry said, adjusting in his seat with a slight wince.

Across the conference table, one of the clients asked a question about exit valuations, a question Harry had answered in his sleep a hundred times before — but his mind was not on exit strategies.

It was on the way you bit your lip to stifle a moan.

The way your hands had gripped the desk as he curled his fingers inside you.

The way you answered your phone with his tongue buried inside, keeping you steady and quivering with pleasure.

He shifted again, the lace brushing his thigh with a maddening friction, and for the first time in his life, Harry was grateful for the table blocking his lap.

Clarkson’s voice pulled him out of it again, “You alright there, Castillo? You look like you’re ready to pass out.”

Harry cleared his throat, flipped a page of the contract for no reason at all. “Yep. Fine. Fully present.”

Clarkson narrowed his eyes, unsure to be concerned or annoyed at Harry’s behavior. “Uh-huh. Right…”

Harry barely made it through the next thirty minutes, reading numbers on the page but not taking in a single word. Every time he adjusted in his seat, the fabric shifted, that soft scrap of lace making itself known. 

An ever-present reminder of the woman who had undone him completely, and left him wrecked in his own office like it was nothing.

He knew you’d done it on purpose, leaving him like that. Of course, you had. 

That smug little smile. The way you looked back over your shoulder when you asked for them back, already knowing he wouldn’t give them up.

“I want you to use your imagination.”

“Fuck me…” he muttered as he adjusted his hips, his cock straining against his trousers painfully. 

“What was that, Castillo?” the client asked, turning towards him to hear him better. 

Harry’s gaze snapped up, and he cleared his throat, “Uhm, just said ‘Sounds good to me’, you know the terms and all.” 

The client hummed in agreement and turned their attention back to Clarkson. 

When the meeting finally adjourned, Harry stood a little too quickly and had to cover the obvious strain in his trousers with the nearest folder.

As he passed Peter on the way to his office before his next meeting, he gave him a subtle look. 

Peter joined him in his walk, “You uh… you need a break, boss?”

Harry narrowed his eyes, offended by the offer. “Why do you say that?”

Peter gestured to the faint pink mark just under his jaw. “Because if you’re tryin’ to keep your private life private, you’re failin’ miserably.” He chuckled. 

Harry didn’t even flinch. “Not ashamed, Peter, not ashamed one bit…” he said simply, before stepping into his office, walking into the scent of your perfume lingering in the air.

‘Still. Fucking. Here.’

He slammed the office door behind him and let out a rough exhale — the sound echoing off the walls of the now-quiet room. The moment the latch clicked, he turned the lock and pushed the button to close the blinds again.

“Fuck.” He said, walking over to his desk.

He was drowning. Your scent was everywhere, still clinging to the air. His lips still tasted like a mix of your lip gloss and sweetness. He could still hear you whimper against his tongue as you came undone with his head so perfectly between your thighs. 

He pulled your panties out of his pocket slowly, reverently, like they were a secret. 

Without even thinking, he dragged the delicate fabric through his fingers before leaning back in his chair, jaw tight, breath already shaky.

He sat there with your panites in his grip for several minutes, staring at them, almost drooling at the sight of them. 

He tried. He tried to behave. To just take a minute and breathe and get his goddamn head on straight before the next meeting. But then your voice echoed in his mind — that sultry whisper.

“I want you to use your imagination…”

He clenched his jaw and palmed himself through his slacks, already hard and aching.

“So much for staying focused.” He said through gritted teeth before his belt came undone fast, pants unzipped just enough, and he shoved a hand down to wrap around himself, groaning low into the empty room. 

He braced his heels against the floor and tipped his head back, eyes shut, letting the image of you burned into his memory carry him under.

Your thighs around his head. Your voice breaking on the phone. Your mouth, your taste, the way you pulled his hair and whispered his name like a fucking prayer as you came onto his tongue.

He hissed through his teeth, stroking slow, and desperate, like he could wring the need out of him. Just to get just enough relief to function like a human being again.

His other hand gripped the edge of the desk, panting, the lace clutched in his other fist.

“Fuck—” he grunted.

So close. So fucking close.

And then — BZZT.

The intercom crackled to life, cheerful and oblivious, “Boss? Just a reminder, your next meeting starts in five. They’re waiting in Conference Room B.”

He froze.

Chest heaving. His fist still clenched around himself. Eyes shut as he groaned to himself.

A full-body jolt of rage and regret ripped through him as he dragged his hand out of his pants and swore under his breath, gripping the arm of his chair like he might launch it across the room.

“For fuck sakes. Can’t I get 5 fucking minutes?” He groaned as he tossed your panties into the desk drawer.

He leaned forward, slamming the drawer shut with one hand and yanking his belt back through the loops with the other, trying not to curse Peter’s name out loud even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

By the time he stood up, tucked in, buttoned up, and fully miserable, he was vibrating with tension.

He was wrecked.

Aroused, still hard and unrelieved. And about to sit through another forty-five-minute conversation about the fund’s reinvestments like he wasn’t fighting a full-body high from the taste of you.

He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and threw it over his shoulder, adjusting himself with a muffled groan as he made for the door.

He was going to make damn sure you didn’t leave the bed — or his lap tonight — not until you were both completely wrecked. 

Not until you knew exactly what kind of imagination he had.

Reader’s POV

You barely had time to shake the lingering thrill of Harry’s hands from your skin before the grand revolving doors of the Ritz opened and your reality snapped back into place.

The lobby was already in a frenzy with a handful of fires needing to be put out.

“Y/N! Oh, thank god you’re back!” Sophia called the second you stepped into view from her position behind the desk.

You quickly made your way over to her, and she immediately began debriefing you on the situation at hand: “We’ve got a situation with Mr. Kimball in the Ambassador Suite — he’s saying the view isn’t what was promised in the online description?”

You blinked, looking down at the booking calendar. “Isn’t that suite on the forty-second floor?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She said with an annoyance in her voice, like she had already used that ammo against him. 

“The one with panoramic views of the park and skyline?”

She nodded helplessly.

You sighed, smoothing your blazer. “Okay. Let’s go fix his ‘view’.”

What followed was a blur of problem-solving: appeasing the self-important tech mogul by personally arranging for his wine fridge to be swapped with a higher-end model and promising a comped couples massage “as a gesture of goodwill.”

Then came a housekeeping error — a bridal suite mistakenly double-booked. You juggled timelines and apologies like a magician until the guests were satisfied. 

Barely twenty minutes later, a pop singer’s publicist requested the curtains in their penthouse be changed… immediately. They didn’t like the “vibe.” You kept your smile firmly in place, even when internally you wanted to scream as you’d changed them already to their request before their arrival.

But even at your most efficient, most unflappable, Harry lingered at the edge of your thoughts.

You were still wearing the dress he’d pushed up around your hips just a couple of hours ago. You were still bare beneath it. You could still feel the warmth between your thighs when you sat down.

And your body remembered every single second of it all.

Every slow lick of his tongue. The way he moaned against you. His teeth brushing your inner thigh as he looked up at you with fire in his eyes.

A shiver ran through you as and then your focus was redirected to an influencer complaining about their lighting in their room as it wasn’t ‘creating the vibe’ for their content. As if you could control that? Heaven help you. 

It was after 3 p.m. by the time you finally escaped into your office. You dropped into the chair behind your desk and exhaled slowly, letting your head fall back with a quiet thud.

‘Just 5 minutes. Give me 5 minutes of silence.’

But when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and sat up a bit more — those 5 minutes went out the window happily with what you saw on your screen.

Harry 3:13 PM: Please tell me you’re alone.

You smiled, biting your lip.

You 3:13 PM: Temporarily. Why do you ask, handsome?

Harry 3:14 PM: Because I haven’t stopped thinking about what you taste like. My mouth is still fucking aching for you.

You crossed your legs under the desk instinctively, heat curling low in your belly as you watched those little three dots continue to pop up.

Harry 3:14 PM: I’m supposed to be reviewing a portfolio, and instead I’m hard under the goddamn desk.

Harry 3:15 PM: Because all I can picture is your thighs around my head.

Harry 3:15 PM: You sitting pretty on my face again while I take my time.

You swallowed thickly and glanced at the door, as if anyone could possibly know the kinds of messages lighting up your screen.

You 3:16 PM: Harry…

Harry 3:17 PM: You left me wrecked, baby. I can still smell you on my fingers. Still feel you trembling.

Harry 3:18 PM: Do you have any idea what that does to me?

Your breath caught. A warmth bloomed in your chest, then lower. 

You sat your phone down for a moment, making him squirm a little bit, leave him wanting before texting back:

You 3:23 PM: Well, I might be squirming in my chair right now if that counts for anything…

Almost instantly he replied:

Harry 3:23 PM: It counts for everything. Fuck. I want you again.

Harry 3:24 PM: I wanted to bend you over my desk and give you something to think about when Todd started his petty little ramblings.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand, pressing your thighs together, tighter.

You 3:25 PM: You are relentless. God, I love you.

Harry 3:26 PM: Say that again.

Harry 3:26 PM: Because that’s the only thing keeping me from showing up at the Ritz and dragging you into a service elevator.

You 3:27 PM: I love you.

You 3:27 PM: Even when you’re being a menace like this.

You 3:28 PM: Especially then.

Your heart fluttered as you set your phone down. You felt like a damn teenager.

Then, after a few moments:

Harry 3:30 PM: Tell me this, does your bra match these panties I have in my pocket?

You smirked to yourself and bit your lip, thinking of your next move very carefully.

You 3:31 PM: Wouldn’t know. Didn’t wear one today.

Then you unbuttoned the first few buttons of your blouse which exposed your bare chest but only enough to tease before snapping a photo and sending it right after.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Then:

Harry 3:32 PM: I swear to God, woman. Are you trying to get me in trouble?

You burst into laughter just as your phone buzzed again — this time, Sophia’s name lighting up the screen.

Sophia 3:32 PM: I need help with Mr. Richards… his wife is complaining about the bill again.

Duty called. But you were already counting down the hours.

Still smiling, you typed one last reply:

You 3:35 PM: I have to go, but I’ll see you when I get home. ❤️ If you’re good, I’ll let you finish what you started on your desk.

Later that evening

You sent the text as you packed your things into your tote bag and slipped on your coat.

You 6:25 PM: Leaving now. Later than I hoped — traffic doesn’t look too bad. I’ll be home soon. Promise. 🤍

You were already imagining him — probably pacing by the window, eyes on his watch, checking the front door every few seconds like a madman. And the way your heart beated faster at the thought told you everything: you missed him just as desperately.

You hadn’t even made it to the service entrance before your phone buzzed again.

Harry 6:27 PM: Drive safely. And take your time. I love you. 

For once, the traffic gods showed mercy. The ride home was smooth — you drove through the city’s grid like it had parted just for you.

Your knee bounced the entire way. The closer you got, the more your heart kicked up. It was a mix of excitement and nerves and the smallest bit of worry that maybe he’d gone too far out of his way to make tonight special. It was a little bit of was still carrying the weight of what had happened between you. Hell, maybe you were, too.

But that worry vanished the moment you stepped through the front door.

The apartment was warm with candlelight, golden and soft like honey. The air smelled faintly of roses — petals trailing over the floors, you couldn’t count how many bouquets were around the kitchen alone. There were at least 2 huge ones nestled along the entryway table near the door. There was a glowing hum of something romantic and delicate curling around every surface. 

You slowly closed the door and put your keys in the little bowl like you always did, making the slightest noise. 

You barely had time to turn around to absorb it all before you heard the door on the balcony open, followed by the soft thud of bare feet on hardwood.

“Hi.”

You turned to see Harry standing there smiling and buzzing with anticipation just as much as you were. 

He was in that soft black sweater and dark trousers you loved him in. His sleeves rumpled at the elbow, curls tousled like he’d been running his hands through them. His eyes burned into yours, hungry and vulnerable and needy.

“Hey,” you said softly, your lips tugging into a breathless smile.

You looked around and bit your lip gently then looked at him with a sparkle in your eye and a playful grin, “Did you uh, buy out the local florist, honey?” you pointed your finger around the house. 

He ran his thumb against his bottom lip and his cheeks flushed, a little sheepish under your gaze.

“I might’ve gotten carried away,” he murmured, glancing around the apartment. “Wanted it to feel like… you were walking into a love letter.”

You blinked at him, heart stuttering a little. The butterflies in your chest fluttered to life.

He smiled softly. “Too much?”

You shook your head, taking a step closer, voice barely above a whisper, “No. It’s perfect.”

That was all he needed to hear.

He just crossed the room to you like he couldn’t stay still another second, like he couldn’t be this far away from you any longer.

Without a word, his hands reached for your coat, gently and slowly sliding it off your shoulders like it was something delicate. His fingers lingered on your arms, like he didn’t want to let go.

Then he hung it up on the coat rack behind you and then came before you, kneeling slowly.

Your breath caught, and you couldn’t help but blush. 

He looked up at you as his hands came to your ankles, fingertips barely brushing the curve of your calves as he reached to unbuckle your heels.

“Baby, you don’t have to—” you started, voice small.

“I want to,” he murmured, already easing the first shoe off. “Let me.”

Your heart thudded against your chest. Your hand landed on his shoulder for balance and just that little bit of added contact.

When the second heel dropped to the floor, he didn’t move right away. He stayed there, still kneeling, still looking at you like he was soaking you in — like this moment was something to engrave into his mind.

Then you reached down, fingers gently curling into the collar of his sweater, “Come here…” 

You tugged him up, slow and deliberate. He rose to his feet like he was in a trance, letting you guide him until you could reach his mouth.

And then you kissed him.

It was slow and needy and hot and grounding, a sudden crash of lips and breath and desperate hands. Your back hit the door behind you as Harry pressed you there, mouths hungry, lips parting again and again like you couldn’t get close enough to one another. 

You’d missed him — not just his body, but this: the way he touched you like he worshipped you, the way he showed his love with how he kissed you. The way his kiss always found a way to say ‘I’m yours’  before either of you had to say it out loud.

When his hands slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, you moaned softly into his mouth. You could already feel the heat pulsing under his skin. He wanted you — badly.

But then he pulled back all of a sudden — only slightly, panting.

“I… I was gonna show you something,” he said, voice rough, lips brushing your cheek.

You blinked at him, dazed, “Can it wait?” You asked, leaning back in for his lips. 

He smiled and pressed one last kiss to your mouth, then slipped his hand into yours, voice low and steady as he said, “Come with me.”

You followed, your now bare feet padding over rose petals toward the balcony. When the glass door opened, a soft night breeze swept in. The sky was dark, and the city lights flickered across the buildings. 

You saw a little round table was set for two, lit by candles and a single tall taper. Wine glasses, glowing votives, and the warm scent of your favorite pasta from a little place downtown wafted into the night.

You swallowed thickly, stepping outside. “Harry, this is…”

“I wanted to make up for last night,” he said softly, coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “For all of it. The late nights, the stress, for not making more time for us.” He kissed your shoulder softly, “I just want you to know how much I’ve missed you since getting back.”

You turned in his arms, your chest aching as you leaned into him, “Thank you…”  

He hummed and kissed your forehead, then he pulled something from his pocket.

A small blue box but not one that made you assume a ring.

“Baby, you didn’t have to do all this,” you murmured, tracing the box’s edge with your finger.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I did.”

You looked up at him then, at the way his eyes shimmered in the candlelight, the vulnerability in his expression — not because he doubted your feelings, but because he’d been desperate to show you his all day.

Your fingers trembled as you opened it. Inside, a delicate gold bracelet shimmered back at you — elegant, timeless, the kind of thing that whispered intimacy without needing to shout. Etched on the inside in tiny cursive was a single date.

The date you met.

Your breath hitched. “Harry, you shouldn’t of…”

“I saw it when we got back and couldn’t resist,” His voice dropped. “I don’t ever want to wait for a reason to give you the world.” He paused for a moment, “I want to give you pieces of forever, even in little things.”

Your chest tightened, and your voice barely made it out. “Harry…”

“I just…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re it for me, mi vida. And if I don’t make that known — if I don’t protect what we’ve built… I’ll lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your voice was a whisper as you looked up at him. “You’re not going to lose me.”

His eyes searched yours. “Promise me?”

Tears prickled at your eyes as you nodded, your voice a little louder than a whisper, “I promise.”

He brushed your hair back, lips finding your temple ever so lovingly. “I just want to keep showing you I’m in this. That I’ll always be in this.” 

You smiled through the sudden well of emotion in your chest, reaching up to touch his face. “I don’t need grand gestures,” you murmured. “But God, I love the way you love me.”

His lips twitched into something soft — reverent. His fingers skimmed your waist as you stood in the candlelight, still holding the bracelet box in one hand. The tiny gold band sparkled even in the softest glow, but it was the look on his face that truly stole your breath.

Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to drop to his knees or kiss you until the walls gave way.

You glanced down at the bracelet box and offered it to him, heart full, “Put it on me?”

Harry gently took the box from you, and his fingers brushed the soft skin of your wrist as he fastened the delicate gold bracelet around it — a glint of polished metal nestled against your pulse.

“Perfect,” he murmured, turning your hand over, bringing it up to his lip and pressing a kiss onto the inside of your wrist.

Your heart swelled, but the tension between you had been humming all day — low and electric, building with every thought of his hands on you, every replay of his lips on yours, the lingering ache that hadn't been completely eased all week of missing him and now this — this genousity and display of devotion just fueled it.

You tilted your head, giving him a slow smile. “When we met, I had no idea you’d turn out to be such a romantic.”

He leaned in, brushing your cheek with his lips. “When we met, I had no idea I’d end up this obsessed.”

You let out a small giggle and wrapped your arms around his neck, teasing your fingers through the back of his curls, “You know, I thought you were trouble the second I saw you. I just didn’t know you’d be this kind of trouble.”

His grin deepened as he leaned in, lips brushing your cheek, “Only for you, baby.”

Then his voice dropped, a murmur as he nudged your nose as he asked, “Are you still how I left you, mi amor?”

The breath caught in your chest, and a chill ran down your spine.

“You didn’t give them back, remember?” you whispered, feeling heat bloom from your core outward. “So… what do you think?”

Harry let out a low, ragged breath, his eyes darkening as he surged forward, “Jesus Christ… come here,” he growled.

You were already moving before his lips were on yours — hands fisting in the front of his shirt, tugging him close, mouth finding his in a kiss that sparked hot and fast.

He kissed you like he needed to breathe. Like his hands were starving to memorize your body again. 

There was no slow build — it was crash and burn from the first press of lips, the way your bodies collided in a tangle of breath and soft groans, all urgency and no patience.

“Dinner can wait,” he muttered into your mouth, pulling you inside the apartment and kicking the balcony door shut behind you both.

You barely made it inside before your back hit the wall with a thud that echoed between kisses — frantic and open-mouthed, desperate and deep. His hands roamed beneath your blouse, urgent fingertips mapping your skin like he hadn’t touched you in months instead of days.

He made a low sound in his throat when he felt how bare you were beneath your skirt as his hands started hiking your skirt up, thumb grazing the curve of your thigh.

“Fuck,” he breathed, he pulled back, forehead pressed to yours. “You really let me suffer through an entire day leavin’ the office like this…”

You smiled, breathless, nipping at his lower lip. “Seemed only fair after last night.” You playfully jabbed.

He groaned at you playing with his lip — that gravelly, gorgeous sound that always sent heat pooling low in your core — and grabbed your waist, pinning you against the wall harder this time. His mouth dipped to your neck, and your head tipped back with a gasp.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said, voice gravel and worship and heat as he began lightly sucking at your pulse point.

His hand swept up your thigh, pushing your dress higher.

“I almost came in my office like a damn teenager.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” you breathed, hands in his hair, tugging him closer.

He groaned, smirking. “You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” 

Your fingers tugged his shirt free from his waistband, desperate to feel skin, friction, to feel him, “Baby, there’s a number of things I would like to do in that office of yours.” 

You gasped as he lifted your leg to wrap around his hip — grinding his into hips yours with a tension-shattering roll. Your voice was a whisper, wicked and sweet against his lips before you leaned back in, “Knowing you were stroking your cock to the thought of me? No doubt that’s one of them.” 

Harry cursed, hands gripping your waist like he might lose control. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes — pupils blown, jaw tight, voice low and wrecked.

“Then allow me show you exactly what I pictured, my love.” 

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

no pressure taglist: @thebeautytoyourbeat, @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7, @queenofdisaster12 @axshadows @mystickittytaco @yxtkiwiyxt @alltheirdamn @punkshort @stylesispunk @iheartoldermem @mermaidgirl30 @mountainsandmayhem @brittmb115 @poor-unfortunate-soul9927 @spacelatinos4life @pedge-page @pedropascalfab @readingiskeepingmegoing @sincerelywithheartt @youusunshineyoutemptress @lilasskicker-23 @melsuns00hine @wencontre @pedrofan @suzysface @orcasoul @misstokyo7love @bitchyfestnight @galotti7 @locaparapedrito @harrysrosetatto @bluenightmarepost @mukeovernetflix @pascal-mynightlyobsession @maryfanson @pasc4lfuzz @fancypeacepersona @crlsummer @iloev-heris @picketniffler @christinamadsen @persiar9 @harriedandharassed @copperhalfcent @decadent-hag1 @blog-luvdance @demonsasss @carpediem1219 @mallingcalling-blog @possiblyafangirl @indiegirlunited @kakiki3 @secretlettersfromyourlove @pedrofan @secretlettersfromyourlove @sesdeuxyeux @insertclevernamehereplease @brinapedroswife @kellyxo1 @msdariaknight

[rosie-posie1313]

Lando Norris Fic Recs Pt. 5

08/04/2025

⭒ Lando Norris

Wingman Roscoe by @theundercoversquid

Wolff!Reader

Baby Girl by @boysthatgovroomvroom

she’s kinda hot tho by @l4nd0n0rr1s

in which lando norris has a crush on red bull's rookie

racer girl by @eternally-racing

Lando's more than apprehensive when his daughter wants to try karting for the first time, but luckily you're there to hold his hand through it all.

Challenge Accepted by @rhaenella

it’s been five years since the last chinese gp, so when you and lando are set up to race each other on the shanghai circuit on mclaren’s state of the art simulator, anything is possible…

Espresso by @taasgirl

y/n is a famous singer who also happens to be a massive f1 fan. when she mentions a liking for a certain driver, it's only fate that he tries everything in his power to get her attention.

Comfort Person by @nayziiz

They do be comfy tho!  By @cheriladycl01

You try hide your pregnancy through Lando's large array of hoodies.

Funny Gaming moments with Lando and Max  by cheriladycl01

Just funny moments where Reader is a member of Quadrant and is a big UK streamer that does everything on Twitch and YouTube.

Sims Streams by @sophsbookstore

maiden win by @cutielando

in which all his hard work finally pays off

when in vegas by cutielando

in which you shouldn’t be left alone when in Vegas

Smau

poor oscar by cutielando

in which you traumatize Oscar

lucky number 100 by cutielando

in which he makes his 100th race extra special

driving around  by cutielando

in which you’re too stubborn for your own good

Sleepy by cutielando

in which you always fall asleep everywhere

Stream by cutielando

in which his fans want you to stream with him

hole in one by @sof1shticated

lando norris and his girlfriend share a love, she's just a professional at it and he's... just okay.

smau

new years traditions and drunk kisses  by @/sof1shticated

HOT WINGS  by @propertyofwicked

lando and his girlfriend take on the quadrant hot wings challenge

YOUR NECKLACE by propertyofwicked

smau

WORK EXPENSE by propertyofwicked

no one can quite work out if they’re together - neither can lando. yn? she’s just there for the vibes.

Smau

SECRETS part 2  by propertyofwicked

Fewtrell!reader

ROOKIE by propertyofwicked

INTERMEDIATE by propertyofwicked

the five times max tried to set his best friends up, and the one time it actually worked

slow down, be here by @katsu28

after a long, frustrating day of training, a night in with you is just what lando needs to leave it all in his rearview mirror

Can’t Sleep by @vinvantae

baby finn series, preparations by @eccentricwritingbaby

lando and y/n begin their quest to prepare for their baby on the way, while their first baby is just happy to be included.

baby finn series, the necessary reactions by @/eccentricwritingbaby

y/n is pregnant again, time to tell the world - well, their whole world.

new home by @formula1au

you and lando bought a new house, and you’re trying to decorate it, but it goes completely wrong

Overwhelmed With Love by @fastandcarlos

having family at the race is always fun, but bringing your baby girl to the paddock too excites lando like never before

(what’s the story) morning glory by @lovelytsunoda

noel gallagher’s daughter has a reputation for two things: being the funniest woman on the internet, and really having a thing for american guys. to the delight of all, she shows up at one of her dads concerts with a boy from bristol on her arm.

lando norris being down bad for his girlfriend: a compilation by @harrysfolklore

lando norris can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

LESSGO LEGO by @miusvault

every scan, every kick by @its-avalon-08

Sleep by @giannaln4

You always had a hard time falling asleep, but it seems like all you need is Lando to give you a little help.

they don’t know about us  by @rosyblooom

 lando norris x private fem computer science major!reader

Smau

blooming season by @/rosyblooom

four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans.

You’re drunk  by @forensicheart

Lando gets a call to pick up his not so sober girlfriend

told her you were just a friend - by @alittlebitofsainz

being away from home for this long should’ve felt more difficult, but somehow, with lando by your side, anywhere feels like home. still, you can’t tell your mum just yet.

breakfast for three by @pierregazly

Drinks and Jackets by @of-many-fandomss

lando comes home drunk and doesn’t recognize you, and you can’t help but swoon at the devotion your boyfriend has for you

Shh, baby by @op814kitty

The team gets nervous when you disappear after the summer break in 2023, but when you turn up in Vegas after lando's crash, they realise why

tell me you love me by @ynsbarbbb

on days like these, where everything just seems to go wrong, the uttered words from your boyfriend is the only cure

fem!driver!reader

Wagnifesting by @yeahxsurexokay13

y/n is lando's best friend but everyone keeps manifesting for her to be something more.

Happier by @keerysfreckles

kiss me by @arieslost

Haven by @loveluvrs

reader being clingy with lando in the mornings

Angel by @dilemmaontwolegs

Kingsday gets a little wild, in honour of Lando’s nose.

Childhood by @lillysbigwilly

in which… they have loved each other since they were little - very very short smau

young, dumb & bwoke by @delulujuls

there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

Seeing Someone by @forzalando

Lando is finally ready to tell you how he feels when he overhears you say that you’ve started seeing someone - but overheard conversations aren’t always what they seem.

Squish by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

Lando calls his girlfriend Squish because she always wants hugs and he is always happy to give her them.

𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 by @imnameimswrld

lando's protective streak outweighs his ability for patience by a ton, and so when paparazzi get far too close and end up pushing his girl in the midst of trying to snap a few close-ups of the mclaren boy, he snaps

smau

i miss you, i’m sorry by @inthedoghousern

you and lando break up and a few months later he wants to talk. inspired by “i miss you, i’m sorry” by gracie abrams.

Stream interruption’s by @bucket-hat-lando

baby steps  by @eternally-racing

Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?

LANDO AS YOUR BOYFRIEND by @mirohlayo

birthday girl by @maplesyrupsainz

in which the tl is full of posts for your special day and the love is overwhelming

smau

If she’s around. By @boiohboii

When lando decides to make a video along with two of his friends for their YouTube channel his girl of course had to make an appearance

leclerc!reader

Extra Special (Lando’s Poppy AU) by @chrisevansonly

lando’s just won another grand prix and his baby girl couldn’t be more excited

First Moves by @final-script

The first movements of the Little Norris

sky full of stars by @arieslost

dj!lando always plays your song when you’re at the club.

Maybe Leave The Cooking To Me by @itsprashimusic

You love to cook, and Lando loves to help, but this time it goes sideways.

My Girl by @anangelwhodidntfall

You have a rough day at work and Lando is here to remind you that your his girl

are you okay?: by @dreamydrifts

Dutch Courage by @vroomvro0mferrari

When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Verstappen!Reader

Our wedding by @goldsbitch

Y/N and Lando probably went a little too overboard when planning their wedding. She finally looses it when his friend suggests a product placement bucket hat.

a digital love letter by @sharlsworld

a glimpse of all the post’s from when they were “just friends”, to there engagement announcement, to the announcement of there first child.

my favourite interviewer. By @ham1lton

the one where you interview your sister and your boyfriend. also part of the nepo!sister universe.

Bragger by @yeahxsurexokay13

fans constantly tease yn for always bringing lando up and being a bit of a simp for her boyfriend - which only gets worse after his first f1 win - so she writes a song about how if they were her they'd do the same.

Forbidden Fruits: Part Two by @ameliablakesblog

Fewtrell!FemReader

annoying (affectionately) by @zjpg

in which lando is your boyfriend

Visiting his family by @charlesslut16

you and lando visit his family on christmas but in the end you discover something unexpected…

Meme by @maplesyrupsainz

in which you love causing mischief and mayhem and both of your fans eat it up

smau

baby we’re on camera by @wintfleur

lando loves teasing his girl on stream

A happy family of four by @theemporium

a f1 gossip page gets insider knowledge of what might be the paddock’s best kept secret. in fact, it is so well kept that even the paddock don’t know who it is about (aka a wee crack fic i couldn’t get out of my head ft the papaya bunch).

Car Shopping  by @jaeeyaaasworld

Y/n decided to finally buy her dream car since she was a child, Lando is accompanying her but the car guy is misunderstanding.

coffee shop by @emotionaldamages

lando decides to take time away from f1 talks and goes to a coffee shop where he meets someone

Slip by @eternally-racing

on a tough race weekend in qatar, you want to be there for Lando

new year’s day  by @chillielo

you spent new year’s eve in tears but a certain pretty boy is about to make new year’s day different for you.

you’re such a dream to me by @prettylittlels

formula one fan singer y/n y/ln is invited to a grand prix where she’ll meet her idol.

[maiamore]

quickie with one of the pitt attendings? robby/jack.

sorry lovely nonnie, i'm turning your ask into re-purposing an old drabble i wrote a while back but i hope this satisfies <3

PAIRING: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x F!ER Doctor Reader

TAGS: public sex, bathroom sex, size kink, established relationship, robby's mean, dom rob, unprotected p-in-v, cream-pie, mentions piss desperation/robby finally relieving himself but not in reader, reader in mild subspace

Thinking about…Robby having a bad day. 

The mismatch of Robby’s & your shift had never been an issue when you’d started as an attending at PTMC. You’d preferred it that way of course (no HR issues with dating someone in the same hospital, and date nights worked with a properly organized calendar.) That's until St Grace’s Trauma Centre had been shuttered and The Pitt was left to absorb its’ overflow. It’d meant that Robby and you started seeing each other less and less. 

Occasional nights over turned to hauling your duffel bag on your shoulder every other week to sustain your stay at your boyfriend’s place. You’d often come home in time to him slipping into his hoodie, or fall asleep to the sound of the trickles of water when he showered in the morning. Being able to at least see him for the brief overlap seemed good enough. 

Today? He gets paged to work earlier than usual, so for the 6th day straight, he couldn’t fuck his girlfriend into his mattress that morning.

You were stirred awake from the vibrations from your phone — texts from Dana. Apparently, Robby was snappier than usual. Of course, you were tired and wanted to sleep more, but you figured you’d drop by the ER to have lunch with him. Lighten his mood a little.

When you came in, he seemed to be in the middle of laying it into a med student, the whole concoction — hand rubbing down his face, shaking his head, it was his authoritative tone with the poor sap that did you in. The exact why he’d talk someone down in that nurturing way he took on in bed, making you repeat what he said to you while he was fucking you slow and deep. It shouldn’t have made you feel whatever you felt. But it did, you saw flashes of pink and white before zeroing on him when he was finally able to head to the restroom.

Robby's turned halfway when the bathroom door swings open. He swears it's deja vu, the way he's being interrupted right when he's thumbing his zipper down, belt unbuckled seconds away from finally being able to relieve himself.

"Jesus — What now." Recognition settles in his face, softening just a fraction when he recognizes you. "Babe? What are you...doing? Did something happen?" His voice drops, in a tone that meant that you had his full attention.

"No time." You grabbed his wrists, which earns a frown from him and his eyes dart towards the door and back at you. He allows himself to be dragged into one of the cubicles, when he fully understands your intentions this time, he's practically whisper shouting, "are you out of your mind? ER's goddamned swamped and I—"

The second you drop down on your knees, Robby's silent. Rubbing his hand down his jaw before groaning into it the second you take him in your mouth. He's bucking his hips when you drag your tongue along his cock, following the prominent vein leading up to his tip. He's hard and throbbing in his mouth, with your nose buried against his pubes, swallowing him until he's spurting thick, warm cum into your throat.

He’d scold you —“Got your fix yet? Sucking my dick like that? Get up. And for gods sake—make sure no one fucking sees you leaving.”  

You're so fucked out, you don't even respond when he taps the side of your cheeks. But he sees it. He sees it in your eyes how desperately you needed more, needed him. Robby’s a giving man, he can’t say no to that pretty face of yours, so he’d agree for once. He’d pull you up by your arms, a little rough. Just enough for you to understand that he was doing this for you, he wasn’t happy about it, but he’d be glad to fuck you five ways to Sunday. 

He’d start with turning you against the stall until your palms were flat against it — he's mean about it at first letting you grind where he wedged his thigh between your legs. You’d soak him with just how desperate you were. So he wastes no time to wrap those big hands around your hips, fingers looping around your waist band before yanking your pants off along with your panties at one go. 

He doesn't ease you into it, or let you register the sudden coldness when the air hits your bare cunt. Robby's stuffing your slicked pussy full with his thick fingers.

It’s not like he was intentionally being mean about it, just stretching you out enough so you could take his dick. You’d feel the cool silver of his promise ring band rub against your hot walls before the metal quickly warms up with your heat. 

The sound would’ve been downright disgusting. Your pussy squelching around his fingers, coating him and suctioning him so loud. You'd feel the shiver down your spine when he whispers into the shell of your ears, "you hear that? Fucking slut she is now isn't she? Made just for me."

The second you grind your hips backward with a stuttered moan would be when you feel his cock, how the thick head pokes, probes into your slippery cunt. And would it hurt? Fuck yeah it’d hurt. It usually takes Robby three fingers and enough stimulate to your clit before you open beautifully for him. 

But not today. Today, you were desperate. And so was he, it's taking an intense amount of focus for him not to flood your pussy with his piss instead of his cum. His palm would tangle around your hair, hold the scruff of your neck, while he pushes deeper and deeper. You’d hear a few grunts leave his lips. His nose pressed flush against the back of your head. 

But then the mean grip would loosen, and his hand would slide up past your shoulder, up your throat, to your jaw, and then span around your forehead so you wouldn’t feel the force of him now slamming his cock into you at an agonizingly slow but deep fucking thrusts. All you can do? Is let out pathetic groans with the rattle of the door. 

Eventually, he’d grumble something about his back, considering how tall he is in comparison, he’d have to bend his knees to fuck your pussy just right. So he’d stumble clumsily with your dead weight against his body, hand snapping backwards to slam the seat down before you’re dragged down with him as he sits on the closed toilet.

If you thought the force of his cock slamming once deep into you when he sits felt mind numbingly good, you weren’t prepared for when his arm loops around your abdomen entirely, fucking you like the cocksleeve you were. His hips snapping, jerking upwards in repeated motions. Other hand coming to quieten the mewls, if you could even call them that, that were slipping from your lips. 

You’d feel his slick coated fingers press into your mouth, making you taste yourself on his fingers. You muffle into it, soft unnffs when you let his digits stifle your loud moans. 

And your sandals now thrown to god knows where when it basically flies off your feet, all you could do was grab around his arm. Trying so hard not to squirt all over him with your feet on your tippy toes. Curled around the cap of his sneakers. His nose traces over your shoulder, your neck, everywhere, chasing your jaw whenever you attempted to squirm away from him. 

You made him come once in your throat, so you can imagine how long you had to bounce on his cock before his hips finally stuttered and filled you deep.

"Shit, hon, get off for a sec." He's still breathing heavy from the aftermath, but more importantly, he still hadn't gotten to relieve himself at all. You're practically putty in his arms still, so he lifts you up in his arms, cock still stuffed into you.

He's whipping the toilet seat up, tugging his slick coated cock out from you, not without a protesting whine from you. The sounds of his piss finally splattering against the toilet bowl has you squirming a little. You nuzzle against his cheeks, not before muttering through a pout, "coulda gone in me."

He scoffs at that feeling him shake the final drops out. "Next time."

[femtoddanderson]

A Short domestic evening w/ Steve

It was a long day. The type of day that leave you both driving home in complete silence. With nothing but turn signals and summer ciacadas filling the air.

You exchange a pair of yawns as Steve rustles his front door open. Shoes get kicked off in the foyer and Steve tosses his members only jacket onto the step stool near the door. He rubs his stubbly face sleepily waiting for you to unlace your converse. He holds his hand out to help you stand and lead you up the carpeted stairs.

His room looks more cozy in this post-sunset grayish blue. You throw yourself onto his bed face down, letting out a muffled sigh.

“You go first,” he says now laying on his back beside you.

You groan an affirmative response, peeling yourself off his bed.

You shower mindlessly, and slip into shorts and one of Steve’s shirts that has now become your pjs. You step out and see steve sitting on the edge of the bed, only looking up when the bathroom light hit his blushed face. He stands whispering a soft ‘hi’, holds onto your head and leans down to place a quick kiss on your head as you pass each other.

You retire yourself under his sheets, not yet falling asleep. You listen to the shower start again and look around at all the trinkets around the room of past and present. His varsity letter, his Polaroid of you, his tapes.

The bathroom door opens and closes once again and the bed sinks behind you as Steve pulls the covers over himself.

He turns to where you lie, facing away from him, and scoots closer to your warmth. A small kiss is placed on your shoulder before he slides arm under your waist. You slide back into him, rubbing your feet against his calf lovingly. You raise his hand from where it rested on your stomach and look at it in the dimming blue light before kissing his knuckles.

Neither of you wanted to fall asleep, you wanted to stay like this forever

[bloodandiron-if]

ROs reactions to an MC that wants to sleep chest to chest ontop of the ROs?

- - -

⚠️ CONTENT INCOMING ⚠️

- - -

OPERATIVE D-6

They freeze the first time you do it.

It’s not fear—it’s disbelief. They’ve trained their whole life to brace for weight. For impact. For the press of bodies in combat. But never for this.

Not for the warmth of you lying fully on top of them, your breath settling where their heart used to race for the wrong reasons.

They don’t move. Not until you shift and mumble something about whether it’s too much. Then, slowly, their arms curl around your back—tight, protective, almost possessive in how they anchor you there.

They don’t need words. They just hold you like you’re the only thing keeping them here.

If you shift in your sleep, they follow without thinking—like a shadow stitched to your heartbeat.

- - -

DETECTIVE JUNO REYES

You’re what now? Sleeping on top of them? Like… full pressure, chest to chest?

Juno blinks. Tries not to look stunned. Tries to act like it’s fine. Normal. Not melting their entire internal organs into soup.

“Right. Yeah. Uh—go ahead.”

Their arms come up automatically, bracing around you like a shield. They’re so solid underneath you. So warm. You can hear their heartbeat going way too fast, but they pretend otherwise.

And when your nose brushes against their collarbone and you sigh?

Yeah. They die a little.

They won’t admit it out loud, but they sleep better like this. They’d take the weight of you over the weight of their own nightmares any day.

- - -

NICO/NIA RUSSO

“Oh. You wanna sleep on me?”

Cue the teasing grin. The raised brow. The playful lean back with a: “Sure, baby, climb on.”

But the second you actually do? The second your full body presses over theirs and your breath evens out against their skin?

The smirk fades. Replaced by something quiet. Something almost reverent.

They rest a hand against your back, fingertips tracing lazy little circles. Their other hand? Slides under your shirt and rests there, palm flat, just to feel you breathe against them.

“Yeah… okay. I could get used to this.”

And they do. They’d let you crush them nightly if it meant waking up to you drooling on their chest (I'm so deadass).

- - -

KIERAN/KIERA MYLES

They laugh when you first suggest it. A low, dry sound, like they’re not sure if you’re joking or trying to test them.

But when you actually do it—crawl over them and settle chest to chest—Myles stills completely.

Like something sacred is happening.

Their hands hover for a moment before they let them land gently at your back. Their thumb traces your spine like they’re memorizing each vertebra—well except the obvious one.

Their breathing slows. Steadies.

“You trust me this much?”

There’s awe in their voice. Like you’ve handed them a fragile secret.

And they’ll never let you fall. Not off of them. Not out of this.

- - -

ALEX/ALEXI MONROE

They light up the moment you ask. Not surprised—delighted.

They practically pull you into position themselves, adjusting you just so your head rests near their collarbone and your limbs tangle with theirs. Their hands roam gently along your spine, coaxing your body into full contact.

“Ahhh, this is perfect,” they whisper against your head. “Don’t you dare move.”

They’re a human heater. Radiating warmth, safety, and soft laughter every time you sigh or shift in your sleep. They’ll hum quietly. Pet your back. Fall asleep with a smile so content it feels stolen from a dream.

- - -

ROWAN/RHEA CARTER

They blink slowly. Not because they mind—but because they’re trying to decide if this is safe for you.

“You sure?” they murmur, already shifting onto their back to make space. Their arms open like a drawbridge lowering for one person only.

And when finally you settle fully against them, they'll immediately wrap you up like you’re the one keeping them safe.

They won’t move. Not a single inch. They’ll stay in that position all night, heart pounding slow and steady beneath your ear. Even if their arm goes numb. Even if they stop breathing for a minute from how close you are.

“Sleep. I got you.”

And they mean it. No one touches you tonight. Besides them, of course.

[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

𝓣𝓱𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓼

Description: One stormy night, Tom tells you three words he's never said before, but that he's shown in every single one of his actions.

A/N: Posting while I polish up chapter 3 of Just A Façade... I'm re-editing that chapter rn, and writing fics for a celebration event next week so those are my priority at the moment. :) Also I was literally writing this in my head while I was at work the other day 😭

Warnings: none. Just fluff.

You had always loved thunderstorms. 

Actually, scratch that- Tom had always loved thunderstorms. He loved to sit and watch them, seeing the way the lightning lit up the dark, cloudy sky and how the rain pattered furiously against the windowpane. Watching storms at night was one of his favorite things to do, especially when he couldn’t sleep or was staying up late doing homework.

You, on the other hand, had never liked thunderstorms too much. The loud claps of thunder, the bright flashes of lightning, the deluge of rain… you’d just never really been a fan of them. You didn’t mind them, but they weren’t anything of note. 

That all changed when you started dating Tom. 

Whenever there was a thunderstorm, he’d find his way into your dorm room. The soft creak of the door, a second or two of darkness as he passed in front of your window, and finally the soft brush of his hands on your arm, letting you know he was there. 

He wasn’t too affectionate when you two were in public, but during these thunderstorms when it was all dark and quiet, he’d hold you close and kiss your head and let you know how much he cared for you. Wordlessly, perhaps, but he made sure you knew all the same. 

Tonight was no different. 

It had started raining when you were getting ready for bed. Lightly at first, and then the thunder started. You found yourself smiling around your toothbrush. He always showed up during storms, but he tended to arrive faster if there was thunder. 

You’d stayed up reading for sometime, then turned the light off once the lightning had become visible. In the darkness of your room, you watched out the window as lightning streaked across the dark sky. Not long went by before you heard the telltale sign of your door opening. 

Slowly, footsteps made their way across the room and towards your bed. A gentle hand brushed against your arm, and you smiled up at the shadowy figure. 

Neither of you said anything as he climbed into bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest your head on your shoulder. He settled back, fixing his gaze on the window as you allowed yourself to relax, watching the storm outside with lazy interest. Even as almost an hour passed by, you found yourself not tired at all. You kept still, though, breathing deeply and enjoying watching the storm rage on outside.

Tom had remained silent this entire time. Other than the occasional shift in his position, you could’ve thought he was sleeping. You knew Tom, though: he wouldn’t fall asleep til after the storm was over. Even if that meant he was up the entire night. 

But perhaps he thought you had fallen asleep, as you normally did after some time of storm-watching. Because suddenly he inhaled, slightly shakily, and whispered so quietly you wondered if he’d meant for you to hear it all:

“I love you.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. It was the first time he’d said that to you. It was the first time either of you had said that. You’d both shown each other countless times it was how you felt, but it had never been spoken aloud. You knew Tom loved you, even if he didn’t say it. And he knew you loved him, even if you hadn’t said it yet. 

A few more minutes passed by and he slowly relaxed as the storm began to lighten up. Soon, the thunder and lightning had stopped, and only a few more drops of rain pattered against the window. His breathing started to even out, and you could sense him drifting off to sleep. 

“I love you too,” you whispered. He stiffened slightly, and you smiled, snuggling deeper into his arms. He hesitated, before pulling you closer and settling back down. 

The storm started up again a few minutes later, but neither of you noticed. You were already both asleep. 

And maybe, just maybe, you loved thunderstorms too. 

A/N (again): Partially inspired by @anawritez-posts and @viperify and their fics about quiet moments with Tom at night!

Taglist: @viperify @m-mally @kenobi-baby @princesspeach0-0

[desirekento]

SURRENDER | 相澤. 消太. AIZAWA SHŌTA

SYNOPSIS: after a long day, shōta needs you to take the reins - he can’t help but surrender himself to you

PAIRING: gn!reader x bf!aizawa

WC: 1.7k words

CW: sub!shōta, oral (m), begging, praise, cum eating

🌸 DEE SAYS: a friend in need requested this… don’t expect mha regularly on this acc (I didn’t finish s2)

🎧 — SURRENDER BY KUT KLOSE

Aizawa Shōta was always drained. Between teaching and hero duties, he had almost zero time to care for himself, let alone you. And yet, most days he seemed to spend his little free time spoiling you, letting his problems fade away into the background. But they still gnawed away at his mind, threatening to ruin the fragile compartmentalisation he was utilising to keep going throughout the day. So Shōta was always drained - but today? Today he was exhausted.

You looked up from the sofa once you heard the familiar close of the door, a shuffling of clothes and shoes audible before he softly padded into the living room. He gave you a distant, tired look before rounding the sofa and letting himself fall into your arms, grunting in relief as he relaxed against you. Head nestled against your chest, Aizawa closed his eyes, allowing the weight to slowly roll off his shoulders as your hand carded through his hair.

“Bad day?”

Humming in agreement, he snuggled closer like one of the cats currently slinking around the apartment, desperate to steal some of your warmth after being outside the house for so long. You smelled like home - like fresh linen, and a faint scent of warm sugar. Inhaling deeply, he breathed out slowly, hands now resting comfortably on your hips.

“I made biscuits earlier.”

His voice was gruff, a little scratchy from little use throughout the day, “I can tell. You smell good.”

Smiling, your hand moved from his hair to the side of his face, rubbing his temple just like you always did. He stifled a small moan as the tension in his head subsided, the migraine that had been plaguing him all day already lifting. Any longer like this, and he’d fall asleep in your arms.

“You not hungry?”

Shōta shook his head, nestling further into your chest as if attempting to smother himself. You chuckled softly under your breath, your free hand now tracing lazy circles on his back.

“Tired?”

His eyes slowly blinked open, head lifting ever so slightly to rest his chin on your chest. Golden irises blearily looked back at you, and his fingers curled, fisting the fabric of your shirt. He had that faraway look that he always made when he was needy, but too tired to act on it - pleading silently with you to take the lead. As soon as your fingertips grazed his cheek, he leant into your touch and nuzzled gently, seeking comfort almost desperately. 

“Please, Y/N.”

Shōta’s head turned, pressing gentle kisses to your fingertips, eyes still gleaming at you. He was simply crumbling under your gaze, that unwavering neutral expression as he made a complete fool of himself. He wanted something, anything of a reaction, grip on your shirt tightening. Mouth opening, he was finally rewarded with another smile as he mouthed at your hand, lips audibly moving against your palm as his kisses became more insistent.

“I need it. Need it so bad.”

“Yeah?” Your voice had that teasing lilt to it that drove him crazy at times like this, “how bad?”

The tears began to well at your cruelty, expression softening with that tired desire that characterised him so well.

“Baby, not today. Just need…” he cut himself off, almost as if debating his next words, weighing them on his tongue before continuing, “need you to take care of me.”

Pushing yourself up slowly, you watched as he reluctantly gave you space, pushing up onto his arms. His eyes were trained on you as you slid out from underneath him, quickly sitting down and looking up at you expectantly. You simply stared at each other for a minute, tension evident as you held his gaze, hand absentmindedly trailing up the back of his neck to gather his long hair into a makeshift ponytail. Obediently, he tilted his head back, shivering slightly at the sensation, still maintaining eye contact. 

Once certain you had his full attention, you let go of his hair, watching smugly as he almost seemed disappointed before you slowly sank to your knees. The tension seeped gradually from his body, eyes lidded as he gazed down at you with adoration, settling between his thighs with your hands on his knees. From this angle, you could see the tent in his slacks standing proudly, straining against the fabric. 

He practically shuddered as your hands trailed lazily up his thighs, coming to a rest just before where he needed you most. Aizawa’s breathing intensified, licking his lips in a futile attempt to calm himself as you mercilessly teased. Then, by the grace of whatever higher power above, your hands fiddled with his belt buckle and expertly undone it, unbuttoning the top of his slacks so they could slide down his toned thighs. 

In one fell swoop, his lower half was now bare, cock pitifully weeping precum as it bristled in the now-stifling air of your shared apartment. 

Shōta gasped as your hands snaked behind his waist, pushing his hips forward and himself almost into an arch, dragging him an inch closer. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, watching mute and compliant as you maneuvered him as you pleased. A soft gasp escaped his lips when your thumbs pressed into his hips, nuzzling his thigh.

“So soft… so good f’me.”

He couldn’t contain his whimper in response.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, one hand left his waist and gently curled around him, the other moving to rest on his thigh. Like this was a typical Tuesday evening to you, your thumb flicked over his weeping slit, spreading precum down his throbbing shaft. You tried not to smirk at the stutter of Shōta’s hips, how his head fell back into the sofa cushions, how his lips parted in a quiet exhale in relief. 

He was hungry for more, and you knew it, yet you continued to toy with him. 

Leaning in, you relished in the way Aizawa’s breath hitched in anticipation, only to lick a long stripe from base to tip. Slow, torturous even, the roughness of your tongue on the underside of his cock had his mind reeling, fingers grasping the sofa for dear life. A tiny moan slipped past his lips, his resolve wearing paper-thin. 

“Y/N, b-baby-” his voice hitched, precum dribbling as he fidgeted under your touch, eyes squeezed shut. You barely spared him a glance, tongue now circling his tip teasingly, dipping into kitten-lick his slit, humming in response. As expected, the vibrations pulled another moan from his unwilling throat, strained as if it had fought to escape his mouth. 

A daring hand snaked into your hair, fingers tangling in it as he finally prised his eyes open, gold glinting at you from behind tired eyelids. While his gaze seemed lazy, there was a sharp alertness in his eyes that divulged his desire. 

“Please, don’t make me beg.”

Your mercy was purely based on the desperation in his voice, bordering on distress, due to the simple fact that he wasn’t being swallowed whole right now. So, naturally, you did just that. Sinking slowly onto his cock, you inhaled sharply when his grip on your hair tightened - not guiding, but steadying himself. It encouraged you to stifle your gags and take him deep, nose brushing against his pubic hair. 

Letting go of all inhibitions, Shōta stuttered out a moan, hips rigid as he fought to stay still. His muscles were tense, coiled tight, desperate to fuck upwards into the warmth of your mouth, to watch your lips stretch as you struggled to accommodate him. As much as he feared the consequences of moving, his body was much more focused on the promise of satisfaction.

Hollowing your cheeks, you began to bob your head, dragging up and down his cock hungrily. You let the warmth of your mouth envelop him, tongue insistently dragging against his underside. A myriad of curses slipped from Shōta’s mouth, his grip only tightening on your hair. Droplets of precum bead at his slit, the musky scent of his arousal heavy in the confined space. Finally lost to sensation, Shōta started babbling incoherently, a litany of pleas and praises escaping him. 

“Mmfuck-! Your mouth feels so good,” he panted out, pushing you down further as he choked out his words between moans. “Please… please keep going, just like that.”

You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his blunt nails scraping lightly against your scalp, haughtily looking at him through your eyelashes. Shōta tipped his head back with a guttural groan, thighs trembling under your touch. 

“Fuck baby,” he panted out, hips now shallowly rocking to fuck into the warmth of your throat. “M’so close- hngh-! S-so close!”

Tears welled in those beautiful golden depths, making them shine as he snapped his head back down to look at you, muscles taut and face scrunched with exertion. He was close, you could feel it. From the way his hips stutter in their movements, to the way his cock throbs angrily in your mouth, you can tell he’s dangerously close. All caution thrown to the wind, Aizawa pants and borderline whimpers, shaking.

Eager to satisfy, you pushed down to the hilt, burying your face in him as you swallowed around his cock. The act took him to the brink, a choked sob ripping from his lips as his vision goes hazy, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Y-Y/N! M’gonna-!”

Aizawa couldn’t even bring himself to finish his sentence before he was spurting down your throat, holding your head in place as thick ropes of cum painted the entirety of your mouth. His entire body had seized up, orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave as you dutifully swallowed what you gave him. He continued like this until sensitivity overwhelmed him, making Shōta release your hair and push you off in one action. He collapsed boneless against the couch, chest heaving and skin shining with sweat.

“Holy fuck…”

Licking a trail of cum that had escaped from the corner of your mouth, you rose from your position on the floor, settling next to Aizawa on the couch. Similar to him, you were also catching your breath, voice a little hoarse as you turned to him.

“Feeling better?”

Facing you, he gave you a tired smile before pulling you onto his lap, cupping your face and kissing you softly. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting himself with a groan before mumbling into the embrace.

“Much better.”

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