#keep scrolling he's taking a moment for himself

[absurdthirst]

Materialistic Love {Harry Castillo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.7k

Warnings: Unbalanced power dynamics, boss/assistant relationship, Harry's an idiot, self-consciousness, self image issues, sex, oral (male and female receiving), unresolved feelings, jealousy, Harry isn't the romantic he pretends to be, heartbreak, break ups, anger, confrontation, fighting in the streets, making love, confessions, marriage

Comments: Harry's assistant before he had that surgery, you managed to have one night together before he seemingly brushes you aside. Making you watch as he starts to court Lucy.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Harry Castillo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Castillo Private Equities, Harry Castillo’s office, how may I help you?” Despite advanced technology, the availability to reach anyone at any time on their cell phone, plenty of clients still preferred to call into the office. Finding comfort in having a secretary, or in your case - executive assistant, field their phone calls. You don’t mind it, it’s a part of your job. One of the many hats you wear. “Can I speak with Harry? It’s Tom.” You recognize the older man’s voice and smile. He calls nearly everyday, driving Harry crazy since he retired and more time on his hands. “Let me see if he’s available, Mr. Feldman.” You wait for him to agree to be put on hold before buzzing into Harry’s office. “Mr. Castillo, Mr. Feldman is on line one for you.” Your voice cuts into the large office overlooking downtown Manhattan and your boss groans. “Not again,” he sighs, making you stifle a giggle. “Put him through and then come in here. I need to go over the schedule for this weekend.”

Right. His brother’s wedding. You forward the call to Harry’s desk and pick up your tablet to slip into his office, preparing to make notes and assure him that everything is ready.

“Mr. Feldman. How are you?” Harry says when he picks up the phone, his patience for the older man is waning but he reminds himself of the money and that makes him plaster on a smile so it can be heard down the phone. “Harry, how are you? Heard Peter is getting married this weekend. That’s excellent news. When will I be hearing about you settling down? Or are you playing the field like I did back in the day?” Tom chuckles and Harry offers him a polished laugh, “I’m still looking. You’ll be the first to know when I find her.” He promises just as you walk into his office and he raises his eyebrows, playfully rolling his eyes and you stifle your giggle. You come to sit down in the plush leather chair opposite his desk while Harry puts the phone on speaker so you can take notes.

You cross your legs and there’s a moment where you swear that Harry’s eyes flicker down but he’s swiveling around to stare out of the large wall of windows. Tom starts to talk about the investment he’s considering, making you take notes and nod along quickly as he talks about his fears and hopes. You study Harry, wondering what he is thinking about as he encourages the older man.

Harry exhales when he says goodbye to Tom, glad to keep the call shorter than normal. “I gotta get that man into some hobbies.” He comments, setting the Montblanc pen down. “So what’s the schedule for the wedding?” He asks, knowing he can rely on you to tell him what has been planned when he’s not really been involved in the wedding apart from the bachelor trip and his best man speech.

“Your tuxedo will be picked up this afternoon from the tailor.” You tell him, going through your list. “The navy blue Armani is back from the dry cleaner, that’s for the rehearsal dinner.” You scroll down the screen. “Rehearsal is at 4. Then a cocktail hour followed by dinner at 6. Your brother has set up an after party at the penthouse. You are encouraged to attend as best man.” Your eyes flicker up to him and then back down at your screen. “The morning of the wedding there is a brunch scheduled with your parents at 10. I picked your black Tom Ford with a light pink shirt and maroon pocket square for that.”

Harry doesn’t know what he’d do without you. You run his life, his closet, and he doesn’t know how he’d handle his life without you. You run every aspect of it. “Remind me to elope if I ever get married.” He teases, “Peter is nervous. Thinks he’s gonna mess this up somehow.” He says, “do you think you could talk to him?” He asks teasingly, “you know exactly what to do in every thing else.” He smirks at you, twiddling the pen in his hand. “What are you gonna do while the wedding is happening? Take the day off?”

“A day where I’m not running a million errands for you? Absolutely.” You snort, shooting him a playful grin. “I’m going to go from my bed to my tub and then back to my bed.” You try not to think about Harry and a bed, because that was something that has long since been forgotten. “I have a hot date with Netflix and maybe some take out.”

He chuckles, “put the take out on my card. And anything else. You deserve a day off. Me? I’ll be putting on my best face to be happy for Peter.” He tilts his head, “I’m gonna deal with my parents telling me I need to get married for a few months after the wedding. That’s why my mom put me at the singles table.” He rolls his eyes and sets the pen down.

There’s a flash of bitterness, of hurt, but you bury it behind a commiserating smile. “Perhaps you will meet someone.” You encourage. “Peter met Charlotte through that service.” You remind him. “And now he’s getting married.”

Harry snorts, “I’m not at that stage.” He confesses, “maybe once I see him married I’ll change my mind but I want to meet someone organically.” He says, “I am not in a rush. My mom is. I’m not.” He chuckles softly, “oh can you book that sushi place for tomorrow? I’m going to dinner with Darren, he wants to meet to talk about his investments.”

“Absolutely.” You keep your face polite and neutral as you make a note. “7 o’clock?” You ask, knowing that is when he prefers to eat dinner. You also know that he will want a bottle of sake immediately brought to the table. Little things that make his life easier, that’s the entirety of your job. “Should I pull the current portfolio and have it sent to your apartment tomorrow afternoon so you don’t misplace it?”

Harry smiles at you, tilting his head, “what would I do without you? Yes, that would be excellent. I need to talk to him about this dentistry practice in Tribeca that wants to expand and needs the funds.” He says and you make a note of that. “Done and done.” You reassure him, standing up after he turns towards his computer. “Oh and can you order something for my parents? It’s their anniversary next month.” He says as you make your way towards the door. “Neimans or Saks?” You ask and he turns to look at you, eyes flickering from the screen, “whatever you think. You know exactly what I like.”

You do. 

****

You groan, pulling Harry closer and letting his tongue flick against yours as your hand slides under his jacket and the warm cashmere sweater to touch the broad expanse of his back. Unable to believe that this is finally happening. The long days and nights spent together boiling over where he is pressing you against the wall of his apartment and ravaging your mouth.

He groans as he kisses you, his hands sliding down your back until he is squeezing your ass, pulling you against him. “Fuck, I have thought about this so many times.” He confesses, bumping into the wall as he guides you towards his bedroom. Your shoes are left on the floor, his kicked off a moment later and you push his jacket from his shoulders. “Baby, tell me I can touch you.” He pleads, kissing along your neck.

“Yessss.” Your head tilts back, fingers threaded through his hair and your core is already dripping with arousal. “Wanted you for so long. Touch me.” You beg. “Let me touch you.” You reach for the edge of his sweater and push it up, ducking down to kiss up his stomach and across his chest. He’s so fucking attractive. Yes, he’s shorter than some men, but it doesn’t bother you.

“Fuck.” He groans at your kisses and grips the hem of his sweater to pull it over his head, exposing his upper body to your hungry eyes. His fingers fumble to find the zipper of your dress, needing it off so he can see you like he’s secretly imagined since you started working for him. “Can I?” He asks when you kiss his collarbone and you nod, letting him drag the zipper down just as you stumble into his bedroom.

You giggle, euphoric that both of you are so eager for this. “God, yes.” You whimper, loving the feeling of his large hands on your bare skin as he peels the dress back. “Fuck,” your fingers fumble with the thick, Italian leather belt you had bought him last year when you were on that trip with him to Milan. You love when he wears it. “I- I can’t-“ you huff, too eager to be patient.

Harry smirks, pleased that you clearly want him as much as he wants you. He’d be lying to himself if he said he hasn’t thought about this since the moment his mother hired you. He chuckles and bats your hands away so he can remove his belt, tossing it across the room and your fingers immediately fumble with his pants, his cock hard and pressing against the zipper of his pants. “Baby, shit.” He grunts when you squeeze him and his hands slide up your back to find the clasp of your bra, just as eager to have you naked.

It’s a flurry of clothes and hands. Kisses with teeth and tongue. Both of you craving what the other can give you. You somehow end up on top of him after you’ve tumbled to the bed, breasts pressed against his chest and his arms are solid around you. “Let me.” You nip his bottom lip before you start to kiss down his body, smirking when he inhales raggedly because he’s guessed what you’re gonna do.

"Shit. Honey, you don't have to do that." He murmurs, watching you as you kneel between his legs. "Fuck." He pants when you hook your fingers in his briefs and pull them down his thighs so his cock springs free to rest on his belly. The head is already leaking and the sight of you between his legs is almost too much to take.

You hum as you wrap your fingers around the surprisingly long cock. You knew he was thick, but you had expected him to be average in length. “Baby, I want to. Imagined doing this more than once and I know you want it.” You tease before you lower your head and take the tip of his cock into your mouth.

He groans, eyes fluttering closed until he forces them open so he can watch you. “Jesus.” He grunts, watching as you take him deeper into your mouth, your jaw stretching wider. You moan around him and he loves it, loves watching you as you seem to enjoy sucking his dick. “So good. You look so pretty.”

You doubt that. No one ever looks pretty if they are really sucking a dick. You take him deeper, groaning around his length as his thighs tense and he reaches down to caress your cheek. Your eyes meet his and you love how dark they are are. How expressive they are.

He pants, “fuck. Imagined this so many times.” He confesses, “way more than I should’ve.” He slides his hand down to your jaw, “I don’t wanna cum down your throat, sweetheart.” He confesses, “but you are gonna make me if you keep it up. It’s been too long.”

You would let him, but you pull off his cock with a popping sound and a cocky smirk. “It would have been alright if you did.” You promise, kissing back up his body.

He sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist and he rolls you over so he is hovering over you. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours until he starts to kiss down your body. “I. Want. To. Taste. You.” He murmurs between kisses until he takes your nipple into his mouth.

“Harry.” Your eyes flutter closed and you whimper again as he suckles. Your hands slide against the silk sheets, your pussy clenching around nothing. “Fuck, baby, you- you don’t have to-“ you promise. “I’m soaking wet.”

“I want to. Imagined it enough times.” He groans, kissing down your stomach and he pushes your thighs apart. He groans at the sight of your glistening folds and you whimper when he inhales your heady scent. “Wanna taste you.” He groans as he dives in to slide his tongue through your folds.

“Oh fuck.” You moan loudly, surprised that he wants to do this. You had honestly expected him to be a little more of a taker than a giver. Not that you mind at all. Your thighs clench down around his head and your hips rock up to his mouth. “God, baby.”

He loves the way you moan, your thighs squeezing his head, and he flings his arm over your body, needing to feel more of you so he lifts your thigh up onto his shoulder. His tongue flicks over your clit, needing to hear you moan his name again.”You’re so good.”

He chuckles into your folds, “I try to be.” He smirks and dives back in, sucking on your clit until he slides his tongue lower so he can push it into your cunt. “You’re gorgeous.” He murmurs against your folds, nudging his nose against your clit.

You whimper his name, fingers twisting into the sheets. It’s been so goddamn long since someone has touched you and this is amazing. Lifting your head, you look down to see his perfect curls framed between your thighs as he tongue fucks you.

You whimper his name and his cock twitches against the silk sheets. The way you tangle your fingers in his hair moments later has him grinding against the mattress. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” You murmur dreamily and he grunts, needing to feel it.

He’s trying to drive you crazy and he’s good at it. The sounds this man makes as he devours your pussy has your thighs shaking. “Dear God.” Your free hand cups a breast and you tilt your hips up. “I’m so close.”

He needs you to cum on his face. His hands squeezing your thighs as he silently orders you to cum for him. When you fall apart, he groans, eagerly lapping at your slick and he fucking loves how you taste, unable to get enough of it.

It’s like you are floating in the clouds, the pleasure making you sigh as he works you down. Your fingers softly ruffling his hair as he laps at you. “I want you inside me.” You confess, smiling blissfully at him.

He grins, kissing your thigh, and he shifts to hover over you. “You want me inside of you, baby?” He murmurs, kissing along your neck until he’s kissing your lips. “Condom.” He murmurs, reaching for the nightstand.

You watch as he opens the foil packet, moving to his knees so he can roll the rubber down his cock carefully. Pumping himself a few times as he caresses your thigh. “Are you sure?” He asks, biting his lip. You smile and nod, reaching for him to drag him down to you.

He grunts, gripping his cock to guide himself to your pussy and he starts to slowly push into you. “You’re fucking perfect.” He murmurs, kissing your jaw as he stretches you out on his cock. “So good for me.” He mutters, lost in the feel of you.

You moan, legs restless as they rub against his. Needing to move as he fills you and stretches you out. It’s been awhile since you’ve had sex, breaking a very long dry spell. “So good.” You promise, chasing his lips down for a kiss.

He slides his tongue into your mouth, starting to rock into you. He’s slow, wanting to savor this moment and help you adjust to him. “God, you feel good.” He murmurs against yours.

Your arms and legs wrap around him as you start to slowly rock with him. Humming in approval at the slow, thorough way he fills you up before slowly pulling back. “You are perfect.” You promise breathlessly.

You whine, loving how he is moving inside you. “Harry.” You moan breathlessly. “More.” You beg. “Wanted this for so long.”

Your nails dig into his back and he fucking loves it. Groaning your name, he buries his face in your neck and continues to rock into you. “Fuck, me too. You feel so damn good, baby.”

It feels like everything is suspended around you. Nothing exists beyond this bed. Your phone buzzes somewhere in your purse, but you don’t even hear it. You wouldn’t even care if you did. All you care about is the way he feels inside you. His cock pushing against your walls and spearing into you with measured, determined thrusts. He’s pacing himself, and you, but you want him to just give you everything right now. “Harder.” You beg, kissing along his shoulder. “Fuck baby, I love it.”

He wants to take his time, slowly fuck you and he wants to fuck you hard, hear you scream his name. He’s torn but when you beg for him to go harder, he obliges. His hand squeezing your thigh to push it back into your stomach as he rocks into you faster, harder. Skin slapping skin.

Your moan turns into a squeal, gasping as he pushes deep. Your fingers claw into his shoulders as he works in and out of you. It’s heavy, thrilling and every time your pussy clenches around him, you want more.

He adjusts his hips, needing you to scream for him, and he knows when he finds the right spot when you cry out in pleasure. “That’s it, baby. That’s it.” He groans, “need you to cum for me. Wanna feel it. Tell me what you need.”

“More.” You pant out, barely able to get the word out. Holding on for dear life. “Close.” You promise, feeling the frantic way that he is pounding into you. It’s perfect. His hips shift up and you let out a choked cry, eyes widening in surprise when he spears up against something wonderful.

When you cry out, he fucking loves it. He focuses on that spot again until finally, you fall apart beneath him. He groans, pressing his lips to yours to swallow your cries of pleasure, and he continues to fuck you through it. “That’s it, sweetheart. Shit. You feel so good.” He murmurs against your lips.

You might have just ruined his silk sheets but you don’t even care. Panting into his mouth, you love how dark eyes eyes are. How needy they are, filled with a sense of pride that he made you come apart. “Your turn.” You grin and kiss him again.

He smirks, “wanna see you ride me.” He grunts, shifting you to straddle him and his cock falls from your dripping pussy. “Ride me. Wanna watch you and wanna cum inside you like that.” He demands, slapping your ass as you drape yourself over him.

You giggle quietly and lean over and press your lips to his as you reach between your body to wrap your fingers around his cock. Lifting your hips to position him at your entrance again. “You want to watch my tits bounce?”

You giggle quietly and lean over and press your lips to his as you reach between your body to wrap your fingers around his cock. Lifting your hips to position him at your entrance again. “You want to watch my tits bounce?”

He nods, hands sliding up to cup your tits as you slide back down onto his cock. “Fuck. You look so pretty like this.” He murmurs, caressing your skin until he pinches your nipples. Loving how you clench around his cock. “Fuck. Love that.”

You moan, tilting your head back and leaning back so your hands are braced on his legs. Letting him see every inch of you. Knowing that his eyes are focused on where your pussy is taking his cock. “Love how you feel.”

He groans, his hands shifting to caress your thighs as you rock yourself on his cock. “Shit, sweetheart.” He hisses when you clench around him and his hand slides up until he is pressing his thumb against your clit.

“Oh shit.” You hiss, biting your lip but a full throated moan breaks free. He fucks like a man who is intent on making the woman in his bed crawl away from it and beg to be let back in. “God.” You whimper, starting to bounce on his cock in harmony with the circling of his thumb.

His thumb continues to rub your clit, needing you to cum for him one more time. He wants to hear it, see it. “You look so good riding my dick. I love it. Fuck, wanna see it every damn day. I want to see you cum again, baby. Give it to me.” He demands, shifting his legs to plant his feet on the mattress so he can thrust up into you.

“Harry!” You squeal out his name, lurching forward to brace your hands on his chest as he starts to fuck you again. His thumb is still circling the swollen nub above where he is drilling up inside you. “God baby, I’m gonna cum.” You promise, thighs burning and shaking until you are crying out and collapsing into him for a frantic kiss as you soak his cock.

He groans into your mouth, unable to hold back anymore. He wraps his arms around you, thrusting up into you. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” He grunts, “I can’t - shit - can’t hold off. Fuck. I- you’re - shit.” He growls as he thrusts up into you, spilling info the condom.

You love how wrecked he looks. Kissing along his jaw and over his sharp and distinguished nose that you have admired since you met him. “You’re so perfect.” You giggle, stroking his jaw and pressing your lips to his softly. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

He nudges his nose against yours, gently rolling you to the side so he can slowly pull out of you while securing the condom. “Me neither.” He murmurs, watching you settle back against his pillows as he ties off the condom and gets up to dispose of it in the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror, eyes wide and hair mussed and he wonders if he did the right thing.

After he pads into the bathroom, you stare at the ceiling. Giggling to yourself as the warm, fucked out feeling settled into your body. Heart slowing back down and your blissful sense of euphoria absorbing back into your system. “Wow.” You hum, wrapping your arm over your breast and sit up, keeping the sheet pinned over you.

Harry comes back into the bedroom, grabbing his briefs to pull them on, and his eyes find yours. Yours are sweet and soft, that fucked out look on your face makes his heart clench, but he realizes in that moment, that his parents wouldn’t approve of you. They want him to climb the ladder, have social status as well as financial status. They want access to the best of the best the 1% has to offer and he only gets that by marrying the right woman. You come from nothing, you have no connections beyond restaurant reservations. It doesn’t matter how he feels, his family won’t approve of you. “You should get some sleep. We have an early start. I’m going to answer some emails.” He says, grabbing his shirt to pull it on before he pads off down the hall to his home office.

You frown slightly, aware that Harry has been good at compartmentalizing, but something seems off. After a moment, you slide out of the bed and find your panties to slide on, following him out of the bedroom. You silently walk down the hall and stand in the doorway. “Should I leave?” You ask, frowning slightly when you find him pouring a drink at his bar.

He turns to look at you, “no. No. You don’t have to go. It’s late. Sleep here. I’m just gonna do some things.” He says, shaking his head and he struggles to look at you as the guilt claws at his insides. He shouldn’t have slept with you. “Go back to bed.”

You swallow harshly, reading the guilt and regret in his face. He can barely look at you. “Okay.” You nod and your heart hurts, but maybe it’s just his way of refocusing. “Just don’t work too late.” You caution. “I’ll be waiting.”

Harry nods, watching you pad back down the hall to his bedroom, and he makes his way into his home office. The computer screen is bright as he logs in, emails in his inbox but he ignores them to open a new tab. He glances at the doors to his office, his mind replaying the moment you called him perfect. He’s not perfect, far from it. He knows how others see him, the whispers behind his back. “He’s rich, he’s handsome but -” It’s always ‘but’ and they end it with “he’s so short.” He swallows harshly, typing into the search bar, “leg extension surgery.” He has been thinking about it, talking to Peter about it, and he thinks it’s time to look into it more. It’s time to do something about it.

When you get back into the bedroom, you go into the en-suite and clean up, finding the extra toothbrushes and cleaning your teeth. Crawling back into the now too big bed and wondering when Harry will come back.

Harry doesn’t come back to bed until you’re asleep, almost falling off the edge of the bed. He sighs, not wanting to wake you as he slides into the bed, silk sheets pulled over him as he lays on his pillow. His mind reeling as he listens to you breathe deeply, deciding then and there that he’s going to do it. He’s getting the surgery.

He’s asleep when you wake up. Turned away from you and curled against his pillow. Making you creep out of the bed to take your clothes and slip into the bathroom to shower and dress. Unsure of how this morning will go, you wonder if he will fire you.

Harry wakes to the smell of coffee brewing, his arm stretched out across the bed but you’re gone. He figures you’ve gotten ready so he makes his way into the en suite to get ready for the day. He needs to speak to Peter. He comes into the kitchen to find you pouring out the coffee. “Good morning.” You offer and he nods, “morning.”

He’s dressed and apparently already eager to get the day started. “You have an eight AM meeting this morning with Presley Howell.” You tell him. “I’ve reserved the conference room and ordered the bagels and lox he likes. The room has already been adjusted to 73 degrees, just as he enjoys it and there are several room temperature waters already on the table.” You had done that last night, considering that the last time you didn’t adjust the air in the room, Mr. Howell had left with a sniffle that he claimed came from how cold the 70 degree office was.

Harry nods, impressed as per usual at your efficiency and he’s reminded once again of why he can’t lose you. He needs you to run his life. He needs you to remember all of the small details. You hand him the coffee and he takes it, “thanks. You’re the best. Oh, can you book an appointment for me and Peter to see Dr. Feldman. He’s an orthopaedic surgeon on the upper east side.”

You frown slightly and nod. “Of course.” You answer, curious as to why he would want to make an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon but he would have told you if you needed to know. It seems like the passion from last night is to be forgotten. “That’s my job.” You murmur.

He nods, sipping his coffee. “Thanks. You’re the best.” He smiles at you, “you ready? I don’t want to be late for Howell.” He says, setting the cup down. His housekeeper will make the bed and clean up the kitchen when she comes in in about an hour. “Sure.” You nod, confused about why he is acting like nothing has changed between you but he doesn’t notice that. “Let’s go then.” He orders, “easier for you to ride with me since you’re here.”

You follow him quietly out of the apartment and to the elevator. Not saying anything when he presses the button for the ground floor. “As soon as the meeting with Howell is over, get my brother on the phone.” He tells you before shaking his head. “Nevermind, just tell him to come to the office. Better that we talk in person.” You wonder what is going on but you just nod. “Yes sir.”

Harry doesn’t say anything as you slide into the car and he looks out the window as New Yorkers start their commute to work via walking and the subway. “Also, can you arrange for lunch to be brought in for me and Peter? I’m sure we will be talking for a while.”

You tighten your jaw, but he doesn’t see that. “Would you like sushi or Katz Deli?” You ask practically, trying to forget that this man had fucked you silly last night and now he’s pretending nothing has changed between you.

He hums, knowing his brother will want to have something substantial. “Katz.” He decides, “make sure they don’t skimp on the sauerkraut for Peter.” He reminds you like you don’t know. He knows you are wondering what the hell he is thinking after last night but he can’t bring himself to talk about it. He needs to bury it and he needs you to do that too.

“Of course.” You make a note, having their normal orders memorized and you will get a sample of assorted sandwiches for Howell. It will be a little too much, but the other staff would enjoy anything left over. There’s a change of clothes in your coat closet that you keep for emergencies, along with a bag when you have to take last minute trips. You’ll change and put last night behind you when you get to the office.

Harry walks into his office with you following behind him. It’s early, no one is here, and he strides straight into his personal office, leaving you to get changed and wait for Howell to arrive. “Double espresso when you’re done.” He orders when he sits down in his chair. Peter has an office too but he likes to work from home more often than not since his clients are more international.

The executive bathroom is right next to Harry’s office, so it’s easy to slip in and change. Tidying your hair and applying professional make in just a few minutes before you walk down to the break room. Instead of ordering coffee out everyday, Harry had a professional espresso machine installed and had a barista train everyone how to make coffee that was far superior to anything they could get at a Starbucks. At the time, you had considered it a perk, but now you are a little bitter as you brew his double espresso to deliver to his desk.

Harry looks up when you enter his office, and he takes a second to admire how pretty you look, even after putting on a change of clothes in the bathroom. He thanks you softly for the coffee, eyes flicking back to the computer screen so he doesn’t say something stupid.

You turn on your heel and you head back out to your desk. You try to ignore the hurt that you feel, try to understand that he had changed his mind on what he wanted for some reason. It’s honestly ridiculous to think that Harry Castillo would want his assistant. You scoff to yourself as you start taking care of the little things that you always do. Making his life easier because it’s what you do.

Harry sighs, picking up his coffee to take a sip, and soon, you come back in to tell him Howell has arrived. “Take him to the conference room. I will be there in a moment.” He says, adjusting his tie.

“Yes, Mr. Castillo.” You walk back out to where Mr. Howell is waiting and smile. “This way, sir.” You guide him out of the office towards the luxurious conference rooms. “May I offer you a coffee?” You ask as you walk him into the specially selected room. It’s warmer, and you are happy that you aren’t sitting in on this meeting.

Mr. Howell nods, “yes, thanks. No cream, one sugar.” He orders and you nod, making your way down the hall to prepare his coffee. Harry soon makes his way into the conference room, reaching out to shake the older man’s hand until he sits down. When you come in to set the coffee down, he watches you avoid his eyes and Howell smirks, “lucky guy to have such a gorgeous woman working for you.” Harry narrows his eyes slightly at the comment but knows he can’t call him out if he wants the business so he says, “she’s an excellent employee.”

You don’t miss his comment, walking out of the room and you decide that you aren’t going to quit. You won’t pitch a fit or demand anything from your boss and lover for one night. You will simply forget it ever happened and go back to just being his assistant. However, you won’t ever let Harry Castillo back between your thighs again.

****

“So we are doing this?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows at his brother as they finish their lunch. “If you want to. I want to.” Harry responds and Peter nods, “let’s do it. I’m sick of getting overlooked. I want more. If this is what it takes, I’ll do it.” He says and Harry smiles, relieved that his brother has agreed to this.

“Will you come into my office?” Your intercom comes to life a few moments after Peter leaves, making you wonder what the hell they had talked about in Harry’s office. “Yes sir.” You answer and stand up to straighten your skirt and brush down your blouse. You’ve been dressing sharper than normal over the past few weeks, completely professional, but enough that you can feel eyes on your ass as you walk through the halls. You open the door, notepad in hand. “You wanted to see me?” You ask as you close the door, seeing that he had cleared away the lunch they had shared already.

Harry nods, watching you walk in and he tries to not drag his eyes along your form. His mind flashes with the image of you naked beneath him and he swallows harshly. “I need you to clear my calendar for August.” He says, looking back at his computer. “An entire month?” You choke, shocked, and he nods. “I am having surgery.” He announces and you frown, “surgery? I didn’t - what for?” He sighs and looks at you, “I am going to have limb lengthening surgery.” He confesses, “me and Peter are doing it together.”

Your eyes widen. “You can’t.” You gasp, making Harry’s eyes narrow slightly as he frowns at you. “Can’t?” He huffs sharply. “That- I’ve heard it’s dangerous.” You stammer slightly over your words, heart pounding as you think about Harry hurt or worse from a botched surgery. He snorts and shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. “My surgeon is the best there is.” He dismisses casually. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be better.” You want to argue, to tell him he doesn’t need to be taller, but it’s obvious he won’t listen to you.

“I need to do this.” He reasons with you and himself, “I can’t keep trying to be worth more than I am. I’m too short. I see it in women’s eyes. How I’m treated at bars…concerts, hell, even the airport. I’m never going to be valuable unless I am taller. I am never going to get a valuable woman unless I am taller. I need to be valuable. I need to find a woman who is valuable. It’s the only way to make my parents happy.”

Your heart shatters, hearing him talk about love and conflating it with value. Your lips press together and you realize that he would never change his mind, that what had happened between you had been one time fluke. “As you wish.” You lift your chin. “I will clear your calendar. Anything else?”

He shakes his head, “that’s it. Thank you.” He murmurs, watching you as you spin on your heel to storm out of his office. He knows he just hurt you but he couldn’t stop himself. He knows he could never be with you. His parents would never allow it. They want him to find a girl who can help his status, the business, and give them a daughter-in-law to brag about. His secretary? That would be a scandal to them.

Sitting stiffly at your desk, you type on your computer and make phone calls. Clearing Harry’s schedule, ordering groceries to his apartment for the recovery and making sure that the small portions of his life that he never thinks about are taken care of. Finishing up right before it is time to go home.

****

Harry hisses as he settles into his pillows, the pain meds keeping the majority of the agony at bay but he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this much pain before. He grunts, feeling exhausted, and he has a long road ahead for recovery. He was in the private hospital for a week and now he’s home. “Shit. Where’s my glasses?” He calls out, needing them to read his emails.

“I don’t know.” You call back, rolling your eyes as you huff. You were in his kitchen, making him something to eat with his next dose of pain meds. The high powered narcotics worried you, but his pain levels were intense. Even as irritated as you were with him, you’ve been the one taking care of him since he entered the hospital for the surgery. “I’ll find them in a minute.” You go back to stirring the soup. “Why didn’t you fix your fucking eyes while you were at it too?” You scoff to yourself.

He huffs, deciding that he will book laser eyes surgery next so he doesn’t need his damn glasses all the time. One thing at a time though. No woman ever said they wouldn’t fuck him because he was wearing glasses. He grunts, trying to adjust himself as he holds his phone in his hand. You’re here and you are looking after him since Peter is at his mom and dad’s. He didn’t want to stay there, liking his own space too much, so he asked you to come help him while he recovered. He offered you extra vacation days in exchange for your help.

You hear him curse, rushing into the bedroom with a tray of food. “Damnit, don’t hurt yourself.” You huff, slapping the tray down and hurrying over to him. You put your arm around him and help him sit up better. “Did you tear your stitches?” You ask quickly.

He shakes his head, “no. I- I didn’t.” He reassured you, seeing that you’re frustrated with him. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, “I didn’t - if I could do this alone, I would do it. I’m sorry you’re here babysitting me.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this alone.” His guilt makes you soften, adjusting the covers over his legs and patting the sheets smooth. “I’ll get your meds and then I’ll find your glasses for you, okay?”

“I promise you, I’ll get you a vacation wherever you want to go after I’m healed. It’s the least you deserve.” He promises as you adjust his pillow. “Thanks for this, sweetheart.” He murmurs, catching your hand before you pull back to grab the tray.

“You know I would do anything for you.” You mean it because he’s your boss, but you squeeze his hand gently. He’s softer right now, probably because of the pain meds, so you won’t hold it against him.

He looks up at you, “do you think I’ve made a mistake? What if this is all for nothing?” He asks and you frown, “what do you mean?” He swallows harshly, “what if no one wants me even after I go through all this? What if no one loves me even if I’m taller? I can’t - I can’t do this if it’s all for nothing.”

You swallow harshly, knowing that he wouldn’t believe you if you told him how you felt now. Instead, you sit down gently beside him, careful not to touch his legs. “Someone is going to love you.” You promise, smiling at him. “Someone valuable to you, someone you think is worthy of you.” It’s a bitter pill that sits in your stomach, but you’ve swallowed it. “You’re handsome, rich, kind….” You shrug. “And now you’ll be taller. You’ll be a 10 out of 10.”

He stares at you, remembering how it felt to kiss you, and he almost leans closer but he doesn’t. “Will I?” He asks, his lower lip pouting and you nod, caressing his cheek. He leans into your touch, “it has to be worth it. It has to be.” He murmurs, the pain killers making him drowsy.

“It will be.” You promise, smiling as his eyes skip closed. The food can wait a little while, and you wait until he’s practically asleep before you let go of his hand and find his glasses where they were in the bathroom.

****

Harry grunts when he shifts out of the bed after getting a visit from the nurse to check him over. The physical therapist helps him, guiding him through the motions until he’s on his feet and - “shit. I- this feels weird.” He confesses and shouts your name, “come here.” He orders, wanting to see how you will look now that he’s taller.

You had stayed in the living room while the nurse and the physical therapist were with him, wanting to give him some privacy. But you rush into his room when he calls you. “Oh my god!” Your eyes widen when you see him on his feet. He is taller, much taller than he had been before. Even though you liked him when he was shorter, you can see the difference in his confidence immediately.

He looks at you, seeing how your eyes widen, and he grins. Relieved that this was worth it. He feels strong, like a presence in the room and not the butt of someone’s jokes like he was in high school. “What do you think?” He asks, straightening his back and his PT tells him to relax a little but he remains stiff to emphasize his new frame.

“You’re taller.” You tell him honestly, not wanting to hurt his feelings. You honestly don’t care that he’s taller. Might even resent it a little. “What do you think?” You ask, knowing that is the most important thing.

He nods, “I feel…different. But in a good way.” He decides, “I still have a long way to go but this is - I feel like this is what I was meant to do. I don’t regret it.” He declares, “I had to do this.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” You smile at him, but it’s a stiff, professional smile. Not the genuine ones you had given him when he’s on his pain meds and being soft. “I’ll go fix your after PT smoothie.” You tell him.

He watches you go, sighing softly until he gets started on his PT routine.

****

“I met someone.” Harry announces when you set his double espresso down on his desk. “Oh?” You ask, eyes wide and he smiles, “At Peter’s wedding. Her name is Lucy. She matched Peter and Charlotte. Wanted to recruit me but I don’t want her to set me up. I want to date her.”

It’s been eight years since his surgery. Eight years since the one night you slept together. You’ve dated since then, had a serious boyfriend for a year,  but it seems like Harry could never find someone good enough. “Oh really?” You lift a brow and hum. “Congratulations.” The ache still surprises you, but you don’t acknowledge it. Neither one of you has ever brought up that night since then and you know that it would be foolish to be upset because he had found someone to date.

“I want to book a nice place for a date. Can you pick somewhere? I only know where to go for business dinners.” He snorts, “but I know you know what’s trending. Also, can you take that new cashmere sweater to the tailor? It needs to be taken in a little at the waist. He knows what I need.”

“Yes sir.” You nod as you turn away from him, happy that he doesn’t see your frown. Striding out of his office when he calls you again. You turn at the door and he grins. “Somewhere expensive.”

He’s excited to see Lucy. She seems apprehensive to date him but he knows it’s because she wants him to sign up for Adore. He doesn’t care about the checkboxes anymore. He doesn’t care about making his parents happy, about finding a woman from a rich family who has a good salary. He wants someone he can trust, someone who is his friend and confidant. He could’ve had that with you but he was stupid, scared of judgement, and of his parents disapproval. Looking back, he was a fool but you moved on, dated and had a boyfriend. Clearly that night meant nothing to you and he can’t afford to lose you as his assistant. Lucy is real, she’s not a socialite or social climber. That’s what he wants.

You frown as you flip through the options of upscale - expensive - and exclusive restaurants that would impress a socialite. You’re annoyed, irritated really, that you are scheduling his date as if this was just another business venture instead of a woman he would potentially sleep with. It’s like he’s rubbing it in your face. Since he’s had the surgery, he’s never once had you schedule a date, although you know he’s taken women home. You know that he’s moved on and it’s so fucking ridiculous that you haven’t. Snatching up the office phone, you grumble to yourself as you dial the number to make a reservation.

****

“Thank you for agreeing to come on this date with me.” Harry says to Lucy, dressed in the sweater you laid out for him in a restaurant you chose. Your touch is on everything but he focuses on Lucy. ”I only said yes to this so you’d realize you’re wrong and you’re not actually interested in me.” Harry freezes for a moment, wondering if she’s realized something happened between you and him. “My instincts are usually right.” He tilts his head, wondering where she’s heading with this. It’s endearing that she doesn’t see how beautiful she is. It reminds him of you. “You’re sure that you’re more right about this than a professional?” Lucy counters and Harry leans forward, “oh sure, you’re the expert, but I trust my gut.” The waiter pours the expensive wine as Lucy looks at him, “okay, we’ll see.” Harry nods, leaning back as he lets his gaze take in her face, trying to ignore the comparison in his mind between you and her. This is his chance to try and get over you. You don’t want him. He needs to focus. “You look really good today.” He compliments her and she smiles, “thanks.” 

****

The date goes well, Harry pays the check, and bids Lucy goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. “Can I call you? For another date?” He asks and she nods, “sure, I’d like that.” He smiles and they part ways, his instinct is to grab the phone and call you, tell you how it went, but that won’t help him accomplish what he needs to. He wants to get married, even if that means he never falls in love.

Sitting on the couch in your tiny, overpriced New York apartment, you try not to check your  phone every two seconds. Ordering yourself some Chinese and pretending you had a normal night to relax seemed foolish when all you are doing is wondering how Harry’s date is going. You hate it. Hate how you are wondering and hate how you can’t help but be jealous. Picking up your tablet, you check your emails and wonder if you shouldn’t just quit. It might be time.

The next morning, Harry strides into the office, pleased about how his date went, and he finds you setting his espresso down on his desk. “Thanks.” He says, shifting to unbutton his jacket before he sits in his plush executive chair. “How did it go?” You ask even if it comes out a little pained. Harry looks at you, wishing he could see how you feel in your expression but it’s neutral. “Really good. I want to see her again. Can you look into another romantic restaurant? Book it for Friday?”

“Sure thing.” You shrug slightly. “I’ll book something a little more intimate. I’m sure by date three you want her in your bed.” You walk out of the office and close the door with a quiet click, even though you want to slam it.

Harry watches you go and sighs, not sure of what he wants. Part of him wants you to scream at him, tell him you want him, that he's making a mistake...but he was the one who pushed you away. He taps his fingers on his keyboard, thinking about how he should look forward to another date with Lucy.

Date two is an intimate little thing with a half booth. You made sure the light is low and soft and the bill would be high. You had also made sure to order more of Harry’s toothpaste for the apartment and made sure there was an extra toothbrush, just in case.

The third date takes a week to arrange since both Harry and Lucy are busy with work but eventually, he speaks to her on the phone and she agrees to see him on Thursday night. Harry calls you into his office, "I need somewhere romantic for our third date for Thursday at eight. I want flowers too. Whatever you think is romantic and a big gesture." He says, knowing he will likely be taking Lucy back to his apartment after this date.

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you nod. “Of course, Mr. Castillo.” You find it ironic that he would have you schedule his romantic dates, not having a clue what to do. So when you go back to your desk, you order the most over the top arrangement you can find. It’s massive and you smirk when you think about him lugging those flowers to the date.

Harry struggles as he carries the flowers into the restaurant. You clearly decided to get the biggest bouquet in NYC but Lucy’s eyes light up and that makes it worth it. He shoves them on the floor by the table, helping Lucy into her seat and he orders a nice bottle of wine. This place isn’t cheap but he wants to show her what he can offer her.

****

“Hey, Chris.” You hope you don’t sound desperate. Sitting at home would drive you crazy and you have already stayed at work beyond anyone else. The offices are dark and the building is quiet except for the hum of a vacuum down the hall. You need to just go out and forget about today. “Um, I was wondering if you wanted to catch a drink tonight?”

Chris snorts down the phone, “are you still in love with your boss?” He asks and you let out a nervous giggle. “Yeah I thought so.” He answers, “I guess - if you wanna catch a drink as friends that’s fine.”

“I need to get over him.” You tell him and yourself as you bite your lip. “I need to move on. He’s dating some matchmaker.”

He lets out a chuckle, “oh of course. But you won’t. You never will. That’s why we broke up. A year together and you were still in love with him.” He sighs, “I don’t want to be with you while you love him, I won’t be your rebound or whatever it is you need. Let’s just - let’s go for a drink. You can vent to me about what an asshole he is and then you can go home.”

You hate that you are using him, but you agree. Choosing a bar that’s not too far from the office. “Twenty minutes?” You ask softly, appreciating that he’s giving you a chance to sort out your feelings.

He sighs, “sure. I’ll see you at that bar on the corner of 5th and 42nd.” He says and puts the phone down. He sighs, knowing he can’t bring you back into his life when you’re still in love with Harry.

Shutting down your computer, you go into the executive bathroom with your bag, touching up your makeup and making it a little smokier for the nighttime. Reaching for the earrings in the front pocket and you realize you haven’t worn these since the night you had gone home with your boss. “Fuck it.” You huff, trading the practical studs for the gorgeous hoops. You apply a new lipstick and look at yourself in the mirror. “Get over him.” You tell yourself sternly.

****

Meanwhile, Harry listens to Lucy list why she’s not enough for him, and he understands. He had similar thoughts about you but that was when his mother wanted him to have a socialite for a wife. Now, she’d settle for anyone. Lucy is smart, beautiful, confident, and she understands an arrangement. He leans in, “you are valuable.” He says and her eyes soften, making him smile and he wants to take her home tonight. He needs to erase the image of you beneath him from his mind. “You want to come back to mine?” He asks after she compliments the way he pays the bill. She nods and he stands, picking up the ridiculous arrangement to guide her out of the restaurant. When he has her pressed against the wall of his apartment, his mind flashes to you in the same position, and he pushes that aside. He can’t have you. He needs to focus on what he can have.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home with me?” You ask. “I’m not talking about anything more than sex.” You promise. “We used to be great at that.” You’ve had a few drinks and you’ve vented to Chris, but you want someone to want you.

Chris sighs, shaking his head, “no. I - Jesus, I loved you but you didn’t love me. I can’t do that again. It took me a while to get over you and I don’t want to backslide. You need to figure your shit out. Harry has that girl. Get online, I don’t know - try a damn matchmaking service for yourself. Don’t let him stop you from living your life when he clearly doesn’t care enough to stop himself from living his own.” Chris reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “I want you to be happy.”

It’s harsh and straightforward, but you can always count on Chris for that. “For the record, I didn’t not love you.” You promise softly, looking down at your joined hands. “And I regret letting you go. But you’ll find someone better than me. You deserve it.”

Chris nods, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it. “You deserve it too. We weren’t meant to be but that’s okay, I don’t want half of someone’s heart. I want it all. I’m selfish.” He smirks and you giggle, “thank you.” He winks at you and lets go of your hand, “another drink?” You nod and he gestures to capture the attention of the bartender.

****

Harry looks up at the ceiling, Lucy asleep next to him, and he turns his head to look at her. His stomach twists, remembering how you looked in his bed. Lucy is beautiful and he looked after her in bed but she wasn’t you and that makes him feel so guilty. He wants to try and make this something, even offering to take Lucy to Iceland. All so he can forget how he feels about you.

The request to pick up the engagement ring almost made you scream. You stared at him in amazement when you heard him. “Engageme-“ you choke off the word and swallow harshly. “Congratulations. I will pick it up and include it in your bags for Iceland.” You tell him woodenly. “Your itinerary has been programmed into your calendar.”

Harry doesn’t know what he wanted you to react like in that moment. Maybe to scream at him that he’s making a mistake? That he shouldn’t marry Lucy? When you simply nod and agree to pick up the ring, pack it in his luggage, he realizes that that night meant nothing to you. He nods, offering you a stiff smile, “thanks. You’re the best. Oh, and I hope you booked yourself somewhere nice while I’m gone? Peter can handle all the in person meetings. He knows that I’m getting engaged so he is taking on the brunt of the work. You can take that deserved week off.”

Your smile is tight and you don’t tell him that it won’t be necessary. You are resigning just as soon as his flight takes off. That gives you a week to cry and mourn the loss of a relationship you never actually had before you find another job. “That’s very kind of you.” You murmur. “I- I better go get your ring.” You tell him. “I- goodbye.”

Harry frowns, watching you rush out of his office, and he sighs, rubbing his cheek. “What the fuck am I doing?” He murmurs, knowing he has to do this because his parents are expecting him to get married. 

****

“You don’t love me and I don’t love you.” Lucy says and it cuts deep in Harry. She sees right through him, noticing the scars on his legs, and the final nail in the coffin of the relationship comes when Lucy tells him she doesn’t want to marry him. Part of him is upset that all of his planning was for nothing, the sacrificing of his work time, the dates…it was all for nothing. He nods, sleeping on the sofa until he hears her leave the next morning. He stays on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling once the door shuts, and his first instinct is to call you. He fumbles to find his phone, hitting your contact.

“Shit, shit.” Your eyes widen when Harry’s number flashes up on your phone. You hadn’t expected him to call you so soon. You had just hit send on your resignation email. “Mr. Castillo.” You manage, your voice a little shaken. “Has your plane been delayed?” You had spent the night awake, carefully composing the letter to express gratitude and appreciation for the opportunities that working for him afforded you. However, you had stated that given the history between you, you could no longer be his assistant when he was engaged to be married. You assured him that you had arranged for interviews to be conducted for your replacement, their resumes were already on his desk for when he returns from Iceland.

Harry hears the panic in your voice and he’s confused. “I’m not going. Lucy - she - we broke up. Can I - can I see you? I just - I need to talk to someone.” He murmurs, knowing you could say no since he’s given you the time off but he needs you more than ever.

Despite the fact that you just resigned, your feelings for Harry immediately override every bit of common sense you have. You sigh softly. “Of course.” You murmur. “Let me get dressed and I can be there in twenty minutes.” You haven’t gone to sleep, but that doesn’t matter now. You want to know why they broke up.

Harry shakes his head against the phone, “I’ll come get you. I need - I want to go to Prospect Park. I need to think and I want you with me.” He confesses, “I’ll pick you up on the way. I’ll be twenty minutes.” He says and hangs up the phone before you can say no. He calls his driver and rushes to get ready to see you.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” You huff at yourself, throwing the bed covers off and climbing out of your bed. “You should have told him no. You should have told him to kiss your ass.” You walk through to your bathroom and decide that if you are going to see him, you’re at least gonna leave a lasting impression.

Harry rings your buzzer, your building entrance door is locked. “I’ll be right down.” Your voice comes through the intercom and he shifts from one foot to the other while he waits for you. When you appear after opening the door, his breath hitches. God, you’re beautiful. “Were you going somewhere? Did I interrupt something?” He asks, worried now that you agreed to meet him because of your job.

“No.” You shake your head and slightly sidestep his hand when he guides you towards the car. You can’t have him touching you right now. “I was planning on spending the day in my pajamas and watching movies.”

“Oh. Well, thank you for coming out.  I just needed to see you.” He murmurs, tugging on the collar of his sweater. He opens the car door for you, his driver informed to not get out, and he shuts the door behind you when you slide in. He rounds the back of the car to open his own door and he settles in beside you. The driver pulls away from the curb and Harry is silent for a moment, deciding to check his phone quickly. He frowns when he sees the notification in his emails subject ‘Resignation’. He opens it, skimming the email, and he turns to look at you. “You’re resigning?”

“Yes.” You couldn’t deny it, not when your email is on the phone screen. He makes a sound of disappointment and you sigh. “You weren’t supposed to see the email until you got back from Iceland.” You admit. “Since you had said you weren’t checking emails or working.”

He frowns, “why? Am I - have I done something wrong? Is it the pay? The hours? I can pay you more. You can work less hours, hire your own assistant. I don’t understand.” He spirals a little as his chest tightens while he imagines you quitting and out of his life.

You snort, shaking your head and getting angry because he’s so fucking stupid. “I slept with you.” You remind him. “I can’t fucking work for you and plan your dates and buy the flowers you give them and pick up your engagement ring while planning your romantic vacation.” You lean forward. “Stop the car.” You order the driver. “I’m getting out.” It was a mistake to see him. You realize that, and you need to leave before you say something stupid.

The driver stops and Harry tries to stop you but you’re out of the car before he can even respond to you. He shakes his head, fumbling to unlock the door and he gets out of the other side. You are shutting the door and he calls your name across the roof of the vehicle. “Just stop. You can’t say that and get out of the car.” He growls, striding around the back of the car as you walk across the street. He reaches for your arm to stop you and a car honks at him. He growls at the driver, “goddamn it.” His eyes are wide as he looks at you. “That night meant nothing to you.” He reminds you, “what are you doing? What do you want?”

“That night meant nothing to me?” You look at him like he’s crazy as you fling those words back at him. “I slept with my boss and immediately after he acts like nothing has happened! Arrrrrrghhhh!” You practically screech as you throw your hands up in the air. You know people are looking at you, there are a few cars honking but you don’t even pay them any attention. “You are the stupidest smart man I’ve ever met in my entire life!” You are screaming and looking insane,  but you can’t stop now. “I am so fucking in love with you that I just pretended it didn’t happen because I thought that’s what you wanted! I can’t even have a relationship because they figure out I’m in love with you.” Tears are streaming down your face, ruining the careful look you had created. “I didn’t care that you were short! I didn’t care! I liked you shorter! You were you and I loved you just as you were! But I can’t-“ you choke out. “I can’t watch you date. To make the reservation while you flirt and woo and fuck someone who is everything that you said you couldn’t have!” You slap the top of the car. “You didn’t want me, but then you were going to marry a matchmaker. Fuck you, Harry! Fuck you!”

He is shocked, flinching like you’ve slapped him, but your words register and he blurts out, “you love me?” You laugh humorlessly and go to walk off but he grabs your arm. “Hey buddy? What the fuck are you doin’?” The driver of the car shouts out the window and Harry growls at him, “just wait a fucking minute.” He looks at you, “I love you. I didn’t know it when we slept together but I know that now. I was buried under the pressure. To be the perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect businessman. My parents lectured me about picking a good girl to marry - someone of value - someone who would help me climb the ladder. I didn’t know what I wanted at that time. That’s why I left you in my bed after we - then you acted like nothing happened and I thought that was for the best. Less complicated. Meeting Lucy - she wasn’t what my parents wanted but she was someone to marry. She said the next person she dates she is going to marry. I thought she’d be an easy pick to get my mom off my back. She was everything they wanted except rich and I convinced them that it didn't matter. Turns out, money doesn’t matter. She didn’t want me and I didn’t want her. She dumped me and I realized - it was all for nothing. Leaving you in bed, the surgery, the dating. It meant nothing because it didn’t change how I felt about myself. I’m still 5 foot six and wanting the most incredible woman to be mine. I fucked up. I did. I understand if you want to go, to quit your job, but I want you to know this one thing: you are valuable. To me. You always have been.”

You stare at him in shock, in anger. “You can’t just say that to me.” You cry out, shaking your head. “This is insane! How do I know that you aren’t just falling back to me after Lucy left?” You demand. “You now love me? After ignoring that night for eight years?” You laugh bitterly. “How the hell do I know that you aren’t just afraid of being alone?” He opens his mouth but you cut him off. “When I was dating Chris, I was trying to convince myself that I didn’t love you. But he knew. You know, I expected him to propose, but he broke up with me. Because he knew that I was in love with you.” You tell him.

Harry’s chest tightens with jealousy at the thought of you engaged to Chris, and he glances over at the cars honking at the two of you. That’s when he realizes this is what Lucy has been talking about. Fighting in the street. You’re the only person he would do that with. “I know what I want. It’s you. I just didn’t realize it until now, tried to act like I didn’t want you. It didn’t work. You’re the only woman I’d fight in the street with.” He declares and you frown, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You hiss and he grins at your reaction, “that I love you. I’m in love with you. I want you. I want to marry you and be with you until I’m old and wrinkly and you are still the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I want you for the rest of my life.”

You don’t understand, but you don’t resist when he reaches for you. Pulling you close and cupping your cheek gently. “I hope you mean that.” You whisper, hope flaring to life inside your chest again. “Because I don’t want to go back to what we were.”

“Never. I love you. I want you.” He promises, leaning in to press his lips to yours. Car horns honk and people are yelling at you to get out of the way but Harry doesn’t care. He caresses your cheek, deepening the kiss.

You sigh softly, melting against him as you let yourself get close. The feeling of his body wrapping around you is one that you could quickly get used to. Pulling back to look him in the eyes. “I love you, Harry. You’ve always been perfect to me.”

He presses his forehead against yours, "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize." He nudges his nose against yours and the car horns continue. "You wanna come back to mine? I don't want to let you go yet." He murmurs, taking your hand in his to guide you back to the car.

You ignore the angry curses of New Yorkers that have been slightly inconvenienced by your little fight. Too stunned by how all of this is turning out. “Are you sure?” You ask, “she just broke up with you.”

Harry opens the door for you, “I’m sure. She wasn’t you. I didn’t really want her, I just wanted to please my parents. I am sick of pleasing them. I want to do what I want and right now, I want you. I want to show you how much I love you.”

You bite your lip, lifting a brow slightly. “Didn’t she spend the night last night?” You ask. Harry frowns as he slides in beside you. “Yes?” You snort and shrug. “Then we might want to go to my place unless you want to change the sheets.”

"We didn't have sex last night but yes, let's go back to yours." He reaches for your hand to kiss the back of it. "Yours." He murmurs, "and we don't have to, you know, I just want to be with you."

You are surprised by the fact that they didn’t have sex. But maybe it was good, considering that they had broken up. “I wouldn’t rule it out.” You admit with an amused smirk. “I remember really liking sex with you and it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone.” You snort, shaking your head. “Tried to get Chris to sleep with me a few weeks ago, but he turned me down.”

Harry knows he can’t be annoyed by that. You didn’t belong to him. “I really liked sex with you and I- I’m sorry. You deserved to be loved, to be touched, and I stopped you from experiencing that.” He sighs and leans in to kiss your cheek, “I want to show you how I feel…if you’ll let me. If not, I understand. We can take it slow.”

“Don’t you think we’ve been taking it slow for the last eight years?” You ask, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers through his. You squeeze gently and look into his eyes. “I want you.” You confess softly. “I always want you.”

Harry smiles, squeezing your hand, “I want you.” He murmurs, leaning closer so he can nudge his nose against yours. You tilt your head and he kisses you softly, wanting to show you how he feels, that he doesn’t want you for just sex. “I don’t want to take it slow.” He confesses against your lips.

“You’ve always been impatient when you want something.” You tease and you’ve noticed the driver has stopped in front of your building again. “We are here.” You murmur softly. “Good thing we hadn’t gotten far.”

Harry thanks the driver, tells him to head off and he will call if he needs him. He takes your hand after getting out of the car, helping you out, and he lets you find your keys in your purse. “I never liked you living here.” He confesses, “wanted to suggest you let me buy you a place. Somewhere safer.”

You snort softly. “It’s safe enough.” You murmur, although it’s true that there are better areas. “And I think people would talk if you did that now.” You joke as you open the door to the lobby so you can go in. You have a second floor walk up so you head for the stairs. “They will think that I’m a kept woman.”

He snorts, following you upstairs, allowing his eyes to drift down to your ass. “You are going to be.” He says without hesitancy, “besides, you’ll move in with me eventually. Whenever you want. Tomorrow if I had my way.” He smirks, playfully reaching out to smack your ass.

You gasp in surprise and turn around to grin at him. “Tomorrow, huh?” You huff softly and roll your eyes. “Why the rush? You have a deadline you need to meet?”

“No. I mean, we wasted eight years. I don’t want to waste anymore time. I want you. You’re going to be my wife.” He promises, “and you’re gonna get everything you’ve ever wanted.” He watches you as you take the last step and spin to look at him as he stands three steps down. You’re taller and he swallows, remembering how you were there for him when he had his surgery. “I love you.” He murmurs, dark eyes looking at you.

“I love you too.” You promise, and when he reaches for you, you stop him. “But I need you to know something.” You tell him, making him frown slightly. “I don’t give a shit about your money.” You promise. “I don’t care that you’ve had the surgery. I don’t care if you start balding.” He huffs and runs a hand through his hair, a move that would make you laugh if you weren’t trying to tell him something serious. “I don’t care that you really don’t have a romantic bone in your body.” He lifts a brow and you just lift yours back. “I love you. I love the way you treat people, the way you listen. The way that you focus completely on them as if they are your whole world.” You smile softly. “I love the way you will dance with little girls and little old ladies at weddings. I love you. Not the version of you that you wish you were.”

He stares at you, feeling like you have cut him open and exposed his guts. It's shocking but incredible. To not feel like he has to perform, to be perfect. You see all of his flaws, know his deepest secrets, and you still love him. "I promise -" He reaches for your hands, "I promise that no matter what the future holds for us, I will never be anything but myself with you. I won't insult you - our relationship - but pretending to be what I think you want me to be. No matter how ugly it gets, or how good life is...I promise you you will have me. As I am."

You smile, lunging forward to grab you and pull him close for a kiss. Needing to kiss him. To seal those vows. “I love you.” You promise breathlessly. “And I’ll stand by you forever.”

He reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your thighs and he lifts you as he walks up the last three steps. "Let me show you." He carries you to your front door, lowering you slowly until he's pressing you into the wood. His lips pressing against yours while his hands squeeze your ass.

It’s that same kind of magnetic energy that you’d had the first time you slept with Harry. Wishing that you were already inside as you press against him, already breathless from the way he surrounds you. It’s not because he’s taller, it’s because he’s got a presence that just makes you melt. “Harry.” You whimper quietly. “I need to get us inside or we will strip each other down right here.”

"You act like that's a bad thing." He teases, letting you spin with your keys in your hand, fumbling to unlock the door. He leans in to kiss your neck, his hands squeezing your hips.

You almost drop the damn keys, cursing yourself as Harry chuckles behind you. He takes your keys, smugness oozing from behind you as he slides the key into the lock and twists it open. “Distracted?” He asks and you huff. “You’re a tease.” You whine as you spin around and drag him inside after throwing the door open.

He chuckles, “you love it,” kicking the door shut with his foot, and he glances around your apartment. It’s small but the decor is all you. It’s homely, cute. You press yourself up against him after tossing your purse down and his attention is back on you. He kicks off his shoes until he grabs your waists pulling you into his chest. “Would a tease want you naked so he can bury his face in your pussy?” He asks, reaching for the hem of your shirt.

“Fuuuuck.” You moan softly. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had someone do that?” You had decided to give up dating and sex after Chris had ended things, so it’d be awhile. You unclip your bra and let it slide down your arms. You have no shame, no hesitation.

He groans, eyeing your tits, and he immediately cups your breasts, squeezing them. “You are - I jerked off so many times imagining these.” He confesses, pinching your nipples as he walks you backwards towards your bedroom. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” He murmurs, squeezing your breast and he slides his hand down to your waist, his head ducking down to wrap his lips around your nipple.

You whimper his name, cupping his head in your hands. His mouth feels magical and you wish that you hadn’t waited eight years for this to happen again, but that can’t be helped. “Oh fuck.” You groan when he flicks his tongue over the nipple again.

He bites down on your nipple, the bed hitting your legs as he stumbles into your bedroom. He lowers you down to your bed, his lips releasing your nipple with a pop as he switches to the other side. His hand slides down to pop the button of your jeans, slowly pulling the zipper down.

You should probably slow him down, sit back and talk about things rationally. But you don’t want to. You don’t want to think about anything other than his hands on you and what he will do next. “Baby, baby I need you to strip down.” You beg softly.

He grunts, shifting back from your chest, and he reaches for his sweater, pulling it over his head. Your fingers immediately find the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them a little slower and he watches you until your eyes meet his. “I love you.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“I love you.” You promise softly, leaning up to push his shirt off his shoulders. “I shouldn’t admit this, but I’m so fucking glad she didn’t know what she had.” You murmur.

He shrugs the shirt off his wrists, tossing it to the floor, and your hands find his belt - the same one you bought him all those years ago. “I didn’t know what I had. I should’ve taken you to the wedding.” He admits his mistake, knowing he should’ve trusted his gut, his heart. “It’s always been you. I just didn’t realize it yet.” He sighs, shifting to pull your jeans down your legs.

“As long as you realize it now.” You murmur, leaning back to let him strip your jeans off and you lift your hips, dragging down the lacy panties you had put on this morning to feel good about yourself.

He swallows harshly, kneeling between your legs as you spread your thighs for him, exposing your already wet cunt. “Shit.” He murmurs, “you’re so beautiful, baby.” He slides his hands along your thighs, shifting to lay between them. “I am going to taste you, make you cum on my tongue, and then I’m going to make love to you.” You whimper and he presses a kiss to your thigh, looking up at you, “that sound like a plan or you want something different?”

“It sounds like the only thing I want to do today.” You promise, pussy dripping and quivering with need. “Besides rescind my resignation.” You bite your lip. “If my boss lets me. He might be glad to get rid of me.”

He chuckles, breath puffing over your slick folds, “he doesn’t accept your resignation. You’re never allowed to quit.” He decides before he slides his tongue through your folds. You moan his name and he groans, loving your tangy arousal as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

Your eyes slide closed, a breathless giggle coming out of your mouth as your chest heaves. “That’s good.” You promise. “So good because I’m enjoying the perks of staying.”

He smirks against your pussy, pleased that you’re staying, and his hands squeeze your thighs as he pushes them further apart. Tongue lapping and flicking at your folds until he pushes it deep into your cunt, his nose pressing into your clit while he tries to devour you like that will keep you in his life forever.

You’ve imagined him in your bed so many times but you’ve never expected to actually look down and see him there. “Oh fuck.” You whine, walls clenching around his tongue “Harry, I-“ your hand slides up to cup your breast. “I imagined this so many nights.”

Harry can’t believe this is happening. He has woken up many times during the night imagining you like this again, his cock aching for release. He never thought he’d get to have you again. Groaning, he dives back into your folds, his hand trailing along your thigh until he can push his finger into your dripping pussy while he flicks his tongue over your clit.

You moan softly, loving how thick his fingers are. They have always been elegant, but right now they are devastating inside you. Your walls are soaked, slicking up his fingers easily as he pushes them deeper.

He curls them, trying to find that spot that makes you cry out and when he finds it, he grins against your bundle of nerves. Your cry vibrates through you and he moans, loving how it sounds and he pumps his fingers a little faster. He wants you to cum. He needs to taste you.

A man, as powerful and rich as Harry is, being a giver. It’s like finding that mystical unicorn. He is a rarity. It doesn’t hurt that he’s amazing at giving. The flick of his tongue is specific, he knows where to lap. How to suck. You feel the knot building in your stomach. “Gonna cum, baby.” You gasp out. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

He groans, cock pressing into your mattress, as the desire to hear you cum, feel it, ramps up. He pants your name into your pussy, fingers curling in the same rhythm that has you moaning. He sucks hard on your clit, “that’s it, baby.” You moan and within moments, your scream echoes off the walls of your apartment while your walls clamp down on his fingers.

It’s earth shaking. Maybe the rest of New York doesn’t feel it, but you do. Body trembling while you are sent soaring, pussy gushing and you can hear how wet you get when his fingers slide slick and make the sweetest sounds while he works you through it. “Harry, Harry, oh fuck baby.” You whine. “I love you so much.”

He works you through it until you push on his head and he withdraws his fingers so he can shift up your body to press his lips to yours. You don’t seem to care about your taste on his tongue as it slides against his. His cock is aching but he doesn’t want to rush this. This is you. It’s more than sex.

You wrap your arms around him, ready to pull him up so he can slide inside you but you stop. “We need a condom.” You murmur against his lips. You don’t know how he had slept with Lucy and you aren’t going to ask. You can’t judge him when you weren’t together. You just want to protect yourself.

He understands, “do you have one?” He asks, knowing he will stop if you don’t. He wants you to be comfortable. “Nightstand.” He nods, pecking your lips, and he reaches out to open your nightstand. His fingers touch your vibrator and he turns to look at you, “we are definitely using that at some point.” He promises and finds the foil packet, working fast to open it up while you fumble to shove his pants down. He manages to kick them off along with his briefs so he can roll the condom down his length. “You ready?” He asks, squeezing himself as he gives you a moment.

You stare at him for a moment, memorizing it and locking it away. “I’m ready.” You whisper, shifting slightly and widening your thighs to entice him. “I’ve never been more ready, baby.” You promise him.

He offers you a crooked grin, so different from his perfectly poised smiles that he uses for the outside world. "Long overdue." He murmurs, shuffling closer until he is pushing into you. Your gasp makes him shiver in delight and he shifts until he can cover you with his body, his lips finding yours.

All you can do is moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms and legs around his body and letting him sink in deeper. It’s beautiful. The time before wasn’t a fluke and you know that he feels it too. His cock is throbbing inside you and you kiss him again before pulling back. “You are seeing the doctor right away.” You tell him. “Getting tested so I can feel you without a condom between us.” You are clean, on birth control, and you would love nothing more than to feel him raw inside you.

He groans at the thought, nodding, “absolutely. Fuck. I wanna - wanna feel you with nothing between us.” He grunts, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.” He says as he presses kisses to your neck while he starts to move inside you. You feel incredible, tight around his cock. “I love you.” He vows, knowing he’s had a hard time loving anyone but with you, it’s as easy as breathing.

You close your eyes, smiling as he starts to slowly build up a rhythm. “I love you.” You return softly, hands stroking up and down his back. Feeling the muscles move. You will have to talk about the future, but you are just giddy that there will be one. “You feel so good baby, so perfect inside me.”

He is slow as he moves inside you, not wanting to be frantic and turn this into a quick fuck. You deserve so much more, especially after everything he’s put you through.

You love how gentle he is. Slow rolls of his hips and kisses are exchanged. You reach up and caress his cheek. “You have been so handsome to me.” You whisper. “Always thought so. So damn lucky that you are mine.”

He smiles, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. “I’m yours.” He promises, “the surgery - you were there for me. No matter what. I was blind. I was pressured by my parents but that’s done. I see you. I want you. I’m going to marry you.” He promises, thrusting a little harder into you.

“I just want you. I don’t want anything else.” You know that his parents might not believe that, all of New York might not believe you, but you don’t care. As long as he believes you. “We will be happy together. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Fuck. You feel so good.” He chokes, grabbing your thigh to lift it higher so he can push deeper into your pussy. “I love it. Thought about how you feel for the longest time.” He grunts, “so good. So goddamn perfect.”

You moan in agreement, both of you lost in the sensations. The moment is perfect and you feel how much he is giving you every time his hips snap forward. The edges of his control slipping slightly and you love it. “Made for you.” You pant out. “Just like you were made for me. No one has ever made me feel like you.”

He pants, words escaping him as he shows you how he feels with his body. You moan and rock your hips to meet his, pushing him impossibly deeper into your hungry cunt. “That’s it. Shit. Need you to cum for me.” He shifts to adjust his weight to one forearm, licking his thumb until he brings it to your clit.

You whine his name, body already poised on the edge of shattering. Every time he rocks into you, he presses his thumb in a neat circle and pulls a moan out of you. “Baby, baby, please.” You beg, kissing his jaw and desperate for his lips.

“Need you to cum for me.” He demands, needing to see it, feel it. He wants to see it for the rest of his life. “Come on, baby. Need to hear you moan my name.” He rubs your clit a little faster before he presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is what you needed. That last little thread of connection with Harry. The next thrust, you fall apart. Crying out into his mouth loud enough that your neighbor beats on the wall and shouts something, but you don’t even care. Too busy flying high above the clouds in pure pleasure as you soak his cock.

He hears someone yell but he doesn't give a fuck. He groans, loving how you squeeze his cock and he should last longer but the combination of you, your newly discovered feelings, and the knowledge that you are his has him falling over the edge. He groans your name, pushing deep until he spills his cum into the condom.

You groan softly, loving how he throbs inside you as you come down from the pleasure. Promise yourself that you will have the concierge doctor visit as soon as possible to have his STI screening done. Not that you think Lucy would have something, but you can’t be too careful. “I love you.” You promised as he buries his face in your neck, panting against your skin. Your foot rubs against the smooth scars from his surgery and it doesn’t matter to you. You don’t mind it, but you also understand why he did it.

He nudges his nose against yours, breathing deeply to try and catch his breath after cumming so hard. It’s been a while since he felt like that. He grunts as he reaches down to grip the base of the condom, slowly pulling out of you until he can remove the rubber, tying it off. “You’re everything.” He promises, kissing your neck.

You hum softly, reaching up to run your hand through his hair and cup his cheek. “So are you.” You smile as you stare into his eyes. “You’re perfect. And you’re the only man I’ve ever wanted to grow old with.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it before now.” He hums, pulling you into his chest, “I should’ve seen you before now. I just - I was scared and I let other people tell me what I want. I want you to move in, to marry me. When you want. Just know I want that tomorrow if I could do it.”

You giggle quietly. “Go to the courthouse?” You ask, fingers trailing over his skin gently. Loving the skin to skin contact. “Just elope? Have a party later on and just surprise people that we’ve been married for a year? Or never tell?”

Harry shifts back to look at you, “you’d do that? Go to the courthouse?” He asks, “marry me just like that?” He is surprised that you’d agree to it so easily. He loves the idea. “You wouldn’t want a big wedding? We could still have the big wedding if you want to have one.”

You snort and shake your head. “Don’t get mad…” you tell him, looking slightly sheepish. “I hated your brother’s wedding.” You admit. “It seems more like an event to show off than actually them being in love.” You know society weddings are to show off, but you hate the idea. All you care about is being with the person you love. “All that matters are the two people promising to spend their lives together.” You shrug. “The flashy wedding doesn’t do it for me.”

He can’t help it, he laughs, and you frown at his reaction. “Sorry, baby, I just - my parents spent half a million dollars on a wedding for two people who weren’t even in love. I don’t want a show. We have nothing to prove or to display. We have the wedding you want and if that’s in the courthouse, let’s go get the license today. I know what I want and it’s you. As my wife. However I get to have you.”

You stare at him for a moment before a smile breaks. Reaching up and caressing his cheek. “Then we go get married today. Just me and you.” You grin. “But we need to talk to your lawyer. Get a prenup.”

Harry sighs, knowing that’s sensible but part of him wants to just throw caution to the wind and invest everything he has in you. “Baby, I won’t be one of those women. You work hard. I want to protect myself and you.” You reason and he nods, “I know.” He picks up your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “And I want it to show you you’re valuable. That I love you. I’ll call him.”

“Thank you, love.” You will feel better knowing that there is an agreement in place. Even if you don’t care, people in Harry’s life matter to him and you want them to be comfortable with his future with you.

****

“Do you, Harry Xavier Castillo, take this woman to be your wife? To have and to hold. In good times and bad. In sickness and health. As long as you both shall live?” The officiant asks and Harry nods, squeezing your hands, “I do.” The officiant grins, “then I have the honor of declaring you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.” He declares and Harry wastes no time surging forward to press his lips to yours, his hands squeezing your waist to drag you closer as it sinks in that you are his wife.

You had decided to keep it simple. The court house wedding didn’t bother you, despite his attorney advising to at least fly to Vegas. You wanted to get married in the city. You had picked a pretty dress and chosen the suit you loved Harry in the most. It was enough for you, although the wedding ring he had picked out for you costs more than your apartment. He had not used the ring he had you pick up for Lucy. “I love you.” You whisper against his lips and kiss him again. “Husband.”

He grins against your lips, his heart feeling like it’s gonna explode, and he brings your hand up to kiss the back of it. “Let’s go sign the certificate and then we are going to dinner. I booked it.” He declares and you raise your eyebrows, “you made a reservation? I’m impressed.” He chuckles, “I’m making all the reservations now. Under the name Mr. & Mrs. Castillo.” He winks, guiding you down the aisle, the gold ring on his finger feels good and he knows this is exactly what he wants.

****

“Why didn’t we just hire a moving company?” It’s cute how he’s complaining even as he’s taping another box shut. Rolling his eyes at you, while the sleeves of his shirt are pushed up and he is wearing designer jeans that make his ass look amazing. “Because that’s the fun of moving.” You huff playfully, waving a hanger at him. “Besides, I’m leaving all the furniture. Didn’t think it would fit in your place.” He shoots you a pout. “It’s our place.” He reminds you and you smirk. “Our place. So we don’t need movers for just my clothes and personal items.”

Harry grumbles but continues to pack your things. It won’t take long and the u-haul is parked on the street. Sometimes you like to remind him how privileged he is and he always appreciates the reality check. You are trying to get him to upgrade his place though. “There’s not enough room if we want kids.” You declared a few nights ago at dinner and that got him thinking. You don’t know it yet but he’s in the process of buying this place you sent him over on Reade Street that you said was “your dream home.” He wants you to have everything so he’s buying it and will surprise you with it later once you’re moved in. Then he will pay for movers because there’s no way he’s moving all his books and art to a new place. “When are those people coming for the viewing?” He asks, knowing your landlord let you out of the lease with the agreement that you help him show it to any prospective tenants.

Twisting your wrist, you check your watch. “Should be here in ten minutes.” Which in New Yorker means anywhere from five minutes early to twenty minutes late. Especially if they were taking the subway. “Phil said it was a couple that was looking to move in together.” You shrug and look around. You’ve got to haul down a couple more boxes, but the apartment was really clean. While you had lived here, you had made sure to take care of it. “Hopefully they like it. I’m ready to be done with all this.”

“You should’ve just let me pay to break the lease.” He counters but you walk over and press your finger to his lips. “Remember, baby, not everything can be bought with money. We are working on that, right?” You ask, wanting to make sure he knows he can’t just throw cash at your marriage to make it work. He has to be emotionally and physically present, help you, be there for you. He nods, kissing your fingertip, “I’m working on it. Therapist says my parents gave me some bad habits.” You caress his cheek, knowing he’s doing his best and you love him for it. Even if he absolutely refused to go to therapy at first. You think it’s helped him process everything that’s happened and given him a safe space to talk about his emotions. The buzzer sounds in the apartment just as you are boxing up the last of your things and you walk over to the phone, “come on up.” You order and open the door for them just as Harry goes to carry a box downstairs. When he’s on the threshold, his eyes widen, “Lucy, uh, John. Good to see you.” He sounds shocked and sets the box down to hold out his hand to John.

Turning around, you are shocked to see Lucy. The woman who Harry had been dating and wanting to marry for all the wrong reasons. “Harry.” She seems just as surprised and she looks over to see you and says your name. “I’m sorry, are we in the wrong place?” She asks, but you shake your head. John, the man currently looking a little uncomfortable, is good looking, but you don’t think that he’s nearly as attractive as your husband. “No, you’re looking at the apartment, right? 2B? This is it.” You wave your hand around. “The place comes furnished if you want. I’m not keeping anything.” John slips his arm around Lucy’s waist. “That’s good, right babe? I don’t have much besides my bed.” He looks over at you and Harry and gives a small tilt of his head. “We are moving in together. Finally getting rid of my roommates.” He jokes.

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes that a grown man is finally getting rid of his roommates but he keeps his mouth shut and looks at Lucy. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.” Lucy smiles back and lets John show her around the apartment, following you. When you gesture to the bedroom, her eyes widen at the ring on your finger. “Oh, uh, congratulations. I didn’t know you got married.” She says, remembering the times she’d speak to you when confirming dates with Harry. The man himself comes over, reaching for your hand to press a kiss to the back of it, “my wife is moving in with me.” He winks at you when he stands straight.

“Your wife?” She’s surprised, her brow arched up and she looks between the two of you with a small smile. “It looks like you weren’t hard pressed to find love after all.” She hums. It’s surprising that he had chosen someone right in front of him, but perhaps there was history she didn’t know about. You smile, flustering slightly at his affection and lean in to kiss his cheek. “It seems like it was sudden,” you tell her, “but it was eight years in the making.”

Lucy is surprised at that, neither you nor Harry had shown any signs of a previous relationship. She isn’t bothered. She has John and his vow to love her everyday. That’s what she wanted. “Well, congratulations.” She smiles and John squeezes her waist, “congrats, man.” He says to Harry who grins, “thank you.” The couple take another look around the apartment and whisper softly until John says, “we are taking it.” You grin, “perfect. I’ll be out today so I’m sure you guys can move in whenever.” Lucy nods, glad that John is taking this step to build a life together. “Thank you.” She says, shocked when she sees Harry picking up another box. He’s moving you into his place by his own hand. Something she never envisioned him doing. It seems like both her and Harry are with the people who bring out the best in them. “We will get out of your hair.” John says, “thanks again and, uh, congrats.” Harry nods, “thanks. Maybe see you guys around.” Both parties know that’s highly unlikely but for politeness, everyone nods and says goodbye. Once they are gone, Harry exhales and you walk over to him. “You okay? Was that weird?” He shakes his head, “not in the way I thought it would be. Just - I can’t believe she picked him. He’s a loser.”

“Love sometimes doesn’t make sense.” You remind him softly. “Some would say you picked a loser.” He opens his mouth to protest but you put your finger over his lips again. “I didn’t say they were right.” You add. “And you don’t care what anyone else thinks anyway. Because you love me.”

He grabs your waist, pulling you closer so you are pressed into him, “I love you.” He murmurs, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours. You cup his cheeks, “not everything is about material things. Love exists beyond that.” You murmur and he sighs, closing his eyes, “I know that now. I love you, honey.” He promises, pressing his lips to yours and you slide your hand to caress the hair at the back of his neck. He groans when your tongue meets his and he pulls back for a second, “what do you say to using your bed one last time?” He smirks and you giggle, “you’re a bad influence, Mr. Castillo.” You take his hand to guide him to your bedroom and he eagerly follows, “only for you, Mrs. Castillo.” He can’t believe how lucky he is to have you. He wishes he had seen what was right in front of him all those years ago but you’ve both grown in that time. He now knows that you can’t buy love. No matter how much money you have.

[prettysatomii]

Dreaming

Killua Zoldyck ♡ w a bit of angst

➽────────────────────❥

2 years had passed, but you still felt his touch. At times you went to sleep, Killua would be there. His fingertips would graze your face like always. Only when you would close your eyes.

This was one of those nights, where you woke up in a cold sweat. Nights like that he would have comforted you, and in a way he still did. Just from a distance you could hear a lightning strike.

Maybe you would stay up tonight.

After that, the rain started up. Every drop hitting your window. The sky only strikes lightning right after you had a dream of Killua. Just once. You liked to believe it was his doing.

Your hand moved feeling around your bed, until finally making contact with your phone. The notifications popped up rather quickly. One after another taking over your phone.

The messages were all from the same person, your boyfriend. Killua.

He texted you goodnight and what you wanted for the future. It confused you for a moment. The two of you talked about that before.

Killua would just have to explain in the morning because you were exhausted. Seeing his name alone brought enough comfort, so you put your phone face down once more.

It didn't take long to fall back into REM sleep. The dream was different this time though. A different memory of Killua. One of your personal favorites, the lazy mornings after sleepovers.

“It’s so early…where are you trying to gooo..?” Killua whined pulling you back into your bed. You would groan, trying to fight against his grip to no avail.

Your brain was fuzzy on some parts but the important parts always stayed. Irrelevant parts like the morning noise. Instead focusing on the way his hands wrapped around your waist. Guiding you to embrace him like you did minutes ago.

“Killua, 5 more minutes. Then we gotta get up.”

You only said that to seem less clingy. Sometimes you wish you said something more.

He would just hum, satisfied with that answer. Killua knew he would be able to make you stay for another hour or so. He was always good at making you forget the time.

His head laid at the crook of your neck, only lifting to kiss your jaw before going back. He held you even tighter, enjoying the warmth radiating off of you.

The fluff of his hair, you could still feel it. Your hands would always find their way to his hair. Combing through, twirling it, lightly tugging at it.

You could find yourself losing consciousness whenever he had you like this.

Killua would stay up as long as he could, making sure you fell asleep before he did. So he could be sure his evil plan of keeping you to himself longer worked. It did that time, you felt the vibration of his breathless chuckle.

That day you did not get up in five minutes.

The last thing you felt before falling fully asleep that morning was a kiss to your neck. But the last thing you heard was killua.

“I love you, a lot.” You could hear the smile in his voice, “And..Sorry not sorry, We didn’t need to get up that bad anyways.”

Then it was gone. The memory ended as soon as you fell asleep.

That dream led you into the morning, your phone dinging as soon as you woke up. It had to be Killua, he always had some weird timing.

Your eyes squinted, eyebrows furrowing staring at the scene. Yes, the message said good morning.

but it wasn’t Killua.

You could ignore that for now. You scrolled past that on your notification box, looking for the previous message he sent last night.

What do you want for the future? Guess he didn't remember, but he always remembered what you said. No matter how little. A person can’t remember everything so it was alright. You would tell him when he came by.

The message was unfindable under Killuas name. Instead all the messages were from a different number. The ones you saw last night..they weren't from killua.

Right, it slipped past you. The exhaustion made you see his name. Instead of the boy who you started talking to.

It was him doing most of the talking anyways. He was sweet, but he wasn't Killua. No. You just imagined that it was killua, for a moment.

You believed yourself last night. That your sweet boyfriend was still here. He was still here to spam your phone, and come by in the morning. Killua wouldn’t be here to do any of it anymore.

He wasn’t here to make fun of you. Laugh at you falling on his skateboard. Beg you to make him food. To kiss you whenever it was just the two of you.

He was in the prettiest grave. The one you would replace the flowers every three days. It would never gain dust because you would always be there.

Killua was gone, he left you long ago.

Not because of a break up, he had died on you. He had left you alone, so angry at the rest of the world for moving on.

Killua would’ve hated seeing you cry over him. That would only make your heart feel heavier. He would’ve hated that you wished it would have been you instead of him.

For a moment, he was real. Killua was just in the comfort of his own home, sleeping away. Still breathing. He did know what you wanted in the future, and you wanted him. He remembered every last thing you told him.

The contact was blocked. It was cruel, mean, and underserved. But..If Killua was here, he would have made fun of the guy for thinking he had a chance with you. You only did what killua would have. He would just have to live through you until you saw him again.

Later that afternoon, you visited like you had since the beginning. Except when it happened you stayed at his grave. Not wanting to leave his side at night, sleeping next to it. He always liked to be warm. Was he warm there?

➽────────────────────❥

A/n: Ghostin by Ariana Grande made me sad soo..

[sparrow-in-the-field]

Been thinking about an established winteragent scenario where John's doomscrolling leads him down a rabbit hole of people who specifically analyze thunderbolts media to "prove" that Bucky still hates John.

(scene under the cut because it got a bit long!)

Bucky knew John had mostly broken the habit; the bolts had helped him quit doomscrolling early on, often having to physically confiscate his phone to get him to stop. At first it was much to his annoyance, but eventually he must have realized it did him a lot of good, to not give into the pull of his phone, to not read the vitriol and unwarrantedly strong opinions of people online.

But like for anyone, habits are hard to break, and John certainly wasn't perfect. The good thing about John was that it was easy to catch him doomscrolling-- he had a certain posture for it. Slouched over his phone, chin in hand, pouting and eyes nearly glazed over as his thumb hover constantly above the screen of his phone to keep scrolling.

Bucky noticed this posture immediately when he walked into the living room, where John was alone. He was so caught up in his phone that he didn't hear Bucky enter the room, and Bucky used that to his advantage. Keeping quiet, he walked over to the back of the couch, glancing over John's shoulder to read--

"Top 10 Moments of Bucky Barnes Being So Done with John Walker"

Bucky scoffed. "What the hell are you reading?"

John startled, jumping and turning to look at Bucky, placing his phone deliberately face down on the couch. "Nothing. Just--I dunno, some stupid shit. It's nothing."

Bucky furrowed his brow. "It looked like people are talking about us."

With his hand on the back of the couch, he jumped over it, landing on the cushions next to John.

John avoided Bucky's gaze, shrugging halfheartedly. He looked embarrassed, bothered. Defeated, in the way that doomscrolling always caused him to feel. It was a shame the habit was so hard for him to break, when it affected him so badly.

"What were they saying, John?" Bucky asked quietly.

Normally he preferred ignoring the words of people online; normally the bolts would confiscate John's phone and encourage him to forget whatever nonsense people had said. But this time--well, if people were making claims about Bucky himself, he wanted to know. That way he could set the record straight before they seeped into John's head.

John shrugged again, picking up his phone. "It's nothing. Just...I guess people know you used to hate me, so they think now you're just putting on an act, playing nice for the sake of the new avengers. But that you still...you know, hate me."

Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face. Sometimes he really hated modern technology. "And you know they're wrong? That any moments they're finding, they're just taking out of context to fit their own narrative?"

"Yeah," John said weakly, as he still scrolled through the damn list.

Bucky took in and let out a breath to quell his anger; it was more towards the losers online than at John getting sucked into his old vice again, he reminded himself.

He knew John well at this point, he liked to think. And he knew John responded better to reassurance than to any argument about how those people sucked.

So Bucky moved. In one swift motion, he was straddling John's waist, taking his phone out of his hands and tucking it into his back pocket for the time being. John opened his mouth to protest, but quickly gave up on the effort, sighing instead.

Bucky brought his hands up to hold John's face, the only way he could get him to meet his gaze. "John F. Walker, what those losers online and what that stupid article doesn't know, is that I spend almost every single night falling asleep in your arms."

John blinked, his cheeks flushing. Bucky stroked his thumbs across them.

"What they don't know is that after most missions, I pull you away to kiss you senseless because I'm relieved you're not hurt. What they refuse to accept is that most interviews I just look like that because I'm tired and uninterested in the questions and that has nothing to do with you. I don't hate you, and I haven't for a long time." Bucky gave a small smirk. "Matter of fact, nowadays it's quite the opposite."

John huffed, blinking up at the ceiling for a moment before meeting Bucky's gaze again.

Bucky smiled. "So are you gonna listen to those losers who don't know jack shit about us, or are you gonna listen to the man who's literally in your lap right now?"

John huffed again, this time closer to a laugh, and sure enough, a smile crossed his lips. "Okay, fine. You're right. I know."

"Good," Bucky hummed, leaning down for a quick kiss. He pulled away again, calling out to the empty room, "Ava?"

It took a moment, but Ava phased into the room. She arched her brow but otherwise didn't question their position. "Yeah?"

Bucky took John's phone out of his back pocket, throwing it to her. "We're playing keep away for the next week."

"A whole week this time, huh? He must have been in deep," Ava said after catching the phone.

"Yeah, come on Bucky, that's so long. What if something comes up with my son--" John started to complain, but Bucky shushed him.

"You know if anyone important contacts you we'll give it back," he said, and John sighed when Ava phased out of the room, his phone gone with her.

Bucky stood up, pulling John to his feet. "Now come on. I think you still need some more reminding of just how much I don't hate you anymore."

John blushed as Bucky's hand went to his chest, leaning up for a kiss, before pulling him away to the bedroom.

[harvestjune]

june didn’t remember exactly when he sat down at the table. he just knew he was there, fingers still curled around the cooling mug lucia had handed him, watching the way the sunlight softened the sharp corners of the kitchen. it was easy, being here. easier than most things had been lately.

lucia chatted about the florist visit while june nodded along, made the appropriate noises, even offered a suggestion for the ribbon color. but his mind wasn’t really in it. he didn’t mean for that to happen, it just did. the texts from earlier felt like they’d been folded and tucked into his chest, and he couldn’t quite smooth the edges out.

eventually, he reached for his phone, but only to flip it face-down. the last thing he needed was to see a name and feel a tug toward it. he didn’t want to test whatever fragile peace was resting between them.

lucia noticed. she always did. “you good?”

“yeah,” june said quickly, too quickly. then, softer, “yeah. just thinking.”

and she let him, bless her, because she always gave him space when he needed it. she started cleaning up without pushing further, and june took that as his cue to move. the florist, the bakery, the half-dozen wedding errands waiting on them — they had a schedule to follow.

they went out. checked off what they needed. picked the ribbon color. plum, not lavender, after some debate. had lunch at a café where lucia licked a smear of frosting off his cheek without hesitation, and june smiled like he was trying to memorize the feeling of that moment.

they didn’t talk about the wedding the whole time. they laughed about something dumb on a menu. they people watched. lucia pointed out a puppy in a sweater and nearly tripped chasing after it to ask the owner if she could pet it. june took a picture of the moment, and she rolled her eyes but grinned anyway.

it felt normal. and normal, lately, had started to feel precious.

by the time they got home, it was late afternoon. lucia was in the shower, and june sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling through the photos on his phone until he landed on one from the café. lucia who was mid-laugh, her hand over her face.

he stared at it for a long time. she looked happy. he wanted to be good to her. he was good to her. but sometimes he wondered if parts of himself were still sitting somewhere else. somewhere far away but too close to forget.

he set the phone down again. walked into the hallway. knocked gently on the bathroom door. “i’m gonna take a nap,” he said through the wood. “wake me up when you’re out, okay?”

lucia called back a soft “okay,” over the sound of the water.

june crawled into bed, one hand under the pillow, the other resting over his heart like it could keep all the day’s feelings inside. he didn’t want to pretend anything didn’t happen. but he didn’t want to drag it forward either. today had been enough.

he closed his eyes and thought about the color plum. about ribbon. about cake flavors. about lucia humming as she got ready. and he let the rest slip quietly into the background where it belonged.

june stood with his arms crossed lightly as he watched lucia move around the stove. he still hadn’t told her anything about the morning. about the call or the messages. about hans.

he didn’t really want to.

something about it felt like it had already ended the moment he stepped into the kitchen. the softness, the memories they’d let come up for air. he’d tucked them back into the drawer they came from. and it was better that way. it was the only way that felt right.

still, he found himself thinking of hans, just for a moment — wondering what kind of trail his feet were trudging through now, if the backpack was heavy or if the air up there felt clearer than the one they’d shared below. he could imagine hans being breathless but trying not to show it. he pictured the view, the way it might widen around him at the top like the whole world had cracked open just for him.

it made june smile, faintly. just for a second. he didn’t know why it mattered that hans was probably okay right now. but it did.

lucia turned around with two mugs in her hands. she offered one to him without asking what he’d been standing there thinking about.

june took the mug. let their hands brush in the space between them. “you know,” he said, stirring the spoon she’d left in his drink. “i was just thinking how long it’s been since we’ve had a day off where we didn’t have to run errands or talk to someone about the wedding.”

lucia raised a brow. “are you saying you want to cancel on the florist?”

june laughed. “no. but maybe after, we can go to the pier. or just… anywhere. just us. no checklists. just you and me.”

lucia didn’t answer right away, but her smile said enough.

he took a sip of his drink, eyes flicking to the window where the light was beginning to stretch across the floor. he could imagine a mountain trail somewhere out there. a view that made you pause.

but he had a view too.

“let’s make today boring,” he said eventually, grinning over the rim of his mug. “i think we’ve earned a boring day.”

[martyrbat]

batman/the maxx: arkham dreams #2

[ID: a horizontal panel of Batman in front of a white background. He's laying down, his knees bent and weight resting on the heels of his feet and on his forearms. He's slightly propped up and his cape is stretching out behind him. He stares ahead with an impassive frown on his very low detailed face. END ID]

[stargirlygirl]

when the condom gets stuck in you, so caleb fishes it out

soaked in sweat, you collapse onto the bed with a huff. from behind you, caleb chuckles while his hands pry your thighs apart.

“i gotta clean you up, pips,” he pants.

“mhmm,” you hum as you grab a strewn pillow and snuggle into it. your boyfriend’s blissed-out eyes narrow at the fluffy intruder taking his place.

his voice has an edge to it as he mutters, “be right back.” the mattress hugs your sole figure as you moan softly from the aftershocks of your nth orgasm tonight. the copper sheets rustle, and the bed dips as caleb returns with a damp towel in hand. he wipes up your pussy’s drool, knocking your clit in the process.

“caleb!” you squeal.

he grins, “sorry, honey,” while running the towel over your inner thighs. he then guides you onto your back and cleans your vulva properly. the coolness of the towel is refreshing, a nice contrast to caleb’s hot mouth and even hotter tongue. once he’s satisfied, the colonel starts wiping himself up.

but something’s missing!

he thought his cock was feeling a little too exposed when he was grabbing the towel, but didn’t bother to look down. now that he has, he realises the condom has vanished.

you’re in a daze, mewling quietly as your boyfriend overturns pillows and bunches up the sheets. the pillow is still in your clutch, keeping you safe as you journey back down from your high.

he nudges your leg unintentionally in his frantic search, making you whine, “calebbbb, what’re you doing?” not spotting the condom anywhere, he sucks in a sharp breath.

“pips,” he starts, his usual charisma gone. “the condom came off, and i can’t find it.”

“mhmm,” you sigh, shifting onto your side and adjusting your body to get cosy.

he places a hand on your hips and sways you gently, “pips, did you hear what i just said?”

“mhmm,” you reply. but, in fact, you did not hear him.

“don’t ‘mhmm’ me, baby. i can’t find the condom,” he says, frustrated.

“what?” you grumble tiredly. caleb rolls you onto your back again and pries the pillow from your grasp.

“i said,” he sighs, while chucking it amongst the mess that is his bed. “i can’t find the condom.” you rub your eyes, the worried look on his sweet features blinking into focus as you gaze around you.

“what do you mean you can’t find the condom?” you ask, your breath hitching in sudden panic. your puppy leans over you and cups your face before planting a smooch on your lips.

drawing back, he says in a calmer tone than before, “don’t stress, honey. i’m gonna find it, okay?” you nod with pouty lips, your fingers encircling his wrists.

he continues, “i think it’s still inside of you, baby.” your eyes widen as you stare at him like a deer in headlights.

“what?!” you exclaim, sitting up and shoving him off you. looking down at your pussy, you clench your walls, trying to locate the missing condom. you gaze up at caleb whose eyes are flickering between yours and your coochie.

you ramble, “i can’t feel anything out of the ordinary. are you sure it’s not around here?” he nods earnestly and places his hands on your shoulders.

giving them a light squeeze, he reassures you, “i promise you, honey. i’m gonna fix this.” he pushes you down gently and props your hips up on the same pillow he was glaring at moments ago. you whine as he spreads your legs wide, but before sinking between them, he perks up like a lost pup whose heard its owner’s voice.

“wait,” he says breathily. “let me google it.”

“caleb!” you call. he scrambles over you to grab his phone and starts typing away furiously. clicking on an article, he scrolls to the ‘how to remove a stuck condom’ section.

“okay,” he starts. “relax vaginal muscles. insert one or two fingers. fish out condom using a hook-like motion. try to push the condom out like a baby.”

“caleb,” you groan. setting the phone back down on his bedside table, your boyfriend kisses your forehead before dashing off to the bathroom to wash his hands. coming back, he positions himself between your thighs.

“alright, step one: try to relax,” he instructs, his breath fanning your pussy. your clit twitches as you clench, scared of what’s going to happen next.

“pips,” he says in that warning tone. “i know you’re worried, but you gotta relax and let me help you, okay?” you nod energetically and attempt to still your muscles.

he reminisces, “d’you remember the first time we had sex? you were clenching around me so tight, and i was trying so hard not to cum. honestly, it was like i’d died and gone to heaven—”

“caleb,” you grumble.

“right,” he grins sheepishly. “point is, you were sooooo nervous. but once we got into it, you were fine. this is similar.” you lift your head from your pillow and gaze down at him with a knot in your brow.

“this is not similar,” you ground out.

one hand rubs your hip soothingly as he replies, “it could be.”

you sigh, “baby, please,” as you slump on the bed. the mattress vibrates with your movement as the springs creak.

a few seconds of silence pass before caleb says cheekily, “now that you’re relaxed, we’re gonna move onto step two: mission ‘retrieve the lost condom’.” you groan as you cover your face with your hands.

“colonel xia, reporting for duty. soldier pipsqueak, prepare for insertion of two fingers,” he says in his military voice. you can’t help but laugh, feeling much more at ease as he prods your entrance.

“steady now, soldier. we wouldn’t want any sudden movements to jeopardise our mission, would we?” you shake your head and keep your hips stable as much as you can.

your colonel coos, “good work, soldier pipsqueak.” his long fingers slip in with little resistance. if anything, your gummy walls suck him in, hungry for the kind of pleasure only he can provide. his fingertips slide up your ridges, searching for the lost object.

after a minute or so, he stops.

glancing up at you, caleb grins, “it seems we’ve encountered a foreign object. brace yourself for turbulence, soldier.”

one second.

that’s all he gives you before his fingers start ‘hooking’ the condom. with his free hand, your boyfriend grabs yours and intertwines your fingers.

“now, push,” he commands.

“push?” you sputter.

“like you’re giving birth.”

“i’m not pregnant!” you say exasperated. his eyes sharpen as you feel him nudge your walls.

“you might be, pips, if i don’t get this condom out.” you whimper before following his orders. it’s strange, pushing but trying not to let anything slip out at the same time. this is enough of an accident and an embarrassment for one night, you don’t need another on your hands. well, his hands if you think about it–

“ugh, caleb,” you groan, feeling defeated as his fingers continue fishing around in your hole.

“almost there, soldier. i’ve got a firm hold on our target. just one more push,” he murmurs.

“for love of—” you push again, and finally, caleb’s fingers slide out, the slick, crumpled condom between them.

you sigh, your body melting as he tosses it in the trash bin. climbing up your frame, he peppers kisses all over your face before landing one right on your lips. you moan into his mouth while cupping his jaw, so glad that uncomfortable predicament has been dealt with.

breaking the kiss, ropes of spit connect your lips as your colonel grins all goofy. his sunset eyes twinkle in the warm lamplight, and his hair is ruffled. you giggle and yank him down on top of you. he cries out as your bodies slam together, your nose already nuzzling his neck.

“pips,” he mumbles into your ear.

you exhale, “i’d say that our mission’s complete, wouldn’t you, colonel xia?” he chuckles breathily into your warm skin and inhales your sweaty-sweet scent.

“thanks for trusting me, soldier,” caleb says tenderly while flipping you two around. he grabs the blankets and hikes them over your bodies, all the way up to your chin. then, he rests one hand on your upper back and the other on the back of your head, stroking your hair gently.

you sigh contentedly, “always, baby.” in his loving embrace, you fall asleep while caleb thinks about the plan b he’s going to buy you before you wake up tomorrow morning.

presenting it to you mid-teeth brushing, you spit out the foamy toothpaste and challenge him, “maybe we should try it raw next time?” his self-restraint only lasts until you swallow down the little pill. then, he’s pouncing on you and dragging you back to bed for part two.

embarrassing/gone wrong sex moments m.list full m.list

[webism]

prt one, prt three

pornstar!satoru who pays for a month of your onlyfans—for research purposes. he needs to find out who this boyfriend of yours is, and figure out a way to get rid of him.

pornstar!satoru who knew it was a long shot, that you might not even show him on your page at all. and of course he got distracted a few times whilst scrolling through your posts, dick rock solid and at attention with each new angle of you of his screen.

pornstar!satoru who, when he finds the more homemade stuff, he’s pathetically jealous of the man that frequents your bed so often. how big his hands look as they lay lovingly over your skin, how in love you look as you suck his cock, how well his tip hits your g-spot over and over and—of course he fucking knows him. a video of you on your back piques his attention, your man in between your legs and lapping at your needy pussy like he’s starved. satoru knows that long hair, that cheeky sexdrunk smile that pulls at his lips while he eats you out, he knows those purple fucking eyes that turn to glance at the camera.

of course it’s pornstar!suguru.

pornstar!satoru who suddenly has his cock out, languid strokes of his fist over his length is nothing to the memories of pornstar!suguru's lips wrapped around his length. who is so enthralled by the knowledge that both him and his former co-star have gotten to feel the flutter of your pussy around their cocks.

pornstar!satoru whos fingers are frantic as he searches for more of you together, and ends up spending way too much money on subscriptions just to watch you get fucked stupid on the same cock that he once did for a film a few years back. who wonders if you feel the same stretch with suguru as you did with him. if you were forced to choose, relationships be damned, who you'd say made you cum harder.

pornstar!satoru whos dick gets impossibly harder at the thought of you not choosing at all. who lets himself picture it, you spread out for both him and pornstar!suguru, your eyes wide at the prospect of taking both of them at once. how he'd take your mouth first, how with each thrust of suguru into your pussy would push you forward onto his cock. how he'd kiss your boyfriend breathless while they're both balls-deep inside of you.

pornstar!satoru who strokes himself along to a video of you riding pornstar!suguru. who times his orgasm just right with your shared one, who goes fucking blind for a moment with the way his climax washes over him. your noises, suguru's noises, the imagined smell of sweat in the air. he moans, a dirty mixture of your name and his, something embarrassing and still he remains steadfast in his lust.

pornstar!satoru who, because he respects himself at least a little, gives himself fifteen minutes for post nut clarity to set in. and when it doesn't, he's texting his agent in the dead of night and very firmly requesting to be booked again

with both of you.

pornstar!suguru who, upon having you home from a particularly tiring shoot, is doting on you with heart-shaped pupils. He's got you laying down with him on the couch, big hands working magic on your sore muscles.

pornstar!suguru who doesn't always ask for details about your shoots. he knows it's just work, hell, he's a pornstar himself, he doesn't need the raunchy details of your jobs to keep himself from spiralling. but something about today feels different. today, you seem uncharacteristically fucked out.

pornstar!suguru who is more than surprised when you're still rearing to get fucked silly that night. you groan about your shoot with a new pornstar, and how his touch is still lingering on your mind. and suguru laughs, because jealousy doesn't come easy to him-- if anything, knowing you're still in his bed at the end of the day just gets him even more worked up.

its when pornstar!suguru bottoms out inside of you, that shared gasp of ecstasy leaving both your lips that you mention how he asked you out for drinks after the shoot. you add on, of course, that you turned him down, but the comment still has your boyfriends interest piqued.

pornstar!suguru who, with a kiss to the corner of your lips and a gentle thrust into you, asks who this admirer of yours is. and just as the names about to leave your lips, his phone chimes on the bed with an email.

an offer. a threesome shoot: him, you, and a second male. it's the best paying shoot he's gotten in a long time. he hasnt quite scrolled down to see who the other talent was, so when you snatch his phone, legs still wrapped around his waist, he catches that smile on your lips. he catches the way you clench around him.

"that's him," you speak, such pretty words from your lips as you turn the screen to show him the name and headshot of pornstar!satoru.

and pornstar!suguru's dick gets impossibly harder.

tags: @meowforluv @p1xlesk1nn @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra

PART THREE HERE!

[inkandapex]

through the lens — drive to survive moments

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : The cameras may be there for Formula 1, but somehow, they keep capturing them. From playful bickering in the paddock to wholesome moments in McLaren’s garage, from Y/N’s growing fan club to Lando’s exaggerated jealousy, Drive to Survive unknowingly turns their love story into a viral sensation—one chaotic moment at a time.

Words : 3.6k

Warnings : swearing

Friends turned Rivals Lovers

The camera focuses on Lando, settled in the driver’s seat, before shifting to the seat behind him. Just beside the cameraman, Max F is seen scrolling through his phone.

“Max is pouty because he usually sits in the passenger seat,” Lando quips, drawing the camera’s attention back to him. A glimpse of his cheeky grin is visible from his side profile.

Reaching over the passenger seat, Lando rests a hand on her thigh. Max chuckles softly. “Bit more legroom up front.”

The scene cuts to Lando, now sat in a studio. From behind the camera, a voice cuts in. “You’ve been a hot topic this off-season. Any updates you want to share?”

Lando leans back in his chair, fixing his hair as he readies himself for the interview segment of Drive to Survive.

"What makes you say that?" A shy smile creeps onto his face just before the screen transitions to a montage of headlines and social media posts.

"Lando Norris seen kissing mystery girl in his Ferrari" "Lando Norris and mystery girl spotted driving around Monaco" "Mystery girl identified—longtime friend Y/N L/N" "Friends to Lovers? The true identity of McLaren driver Lando Norris'new girlfriend"

Lando nods with a smile. “Y/N and I have been friends for a long time. Finally found the guts to ask her to be mine.”

“Are you the romantic type?”

He chuckles, shrugging. “You’d have to ask her.”

The scene transitions to the paddock, where Lando walks hand-in-hand with Y/N, her bag slung over his arm. Max trails beside them, hands in his pockets. The trio makes their way into McLaren’s hospitality, settling at a free table tucked away in the corner, away from the crowd.

Y/N takes a sip of her smoothie before glancing at Lando. “Excited for today? First practice of the season.”

Lando looks up from his phone, nodding. “Yeah, feeling pretty good. Car felt good during testing—hope it translates well throughout the season.”

“Think he’s more nervous about the fact that you’ll be here watching,” Max teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N laughs softly. “I’ve been to races before, you know.”

“Yeah, but not as his girlfriend. Now he’s got to win for the team and to show off for you.”

“You dick,” Lando chuckles, grabbing a straw wrapper and tossing it at Max, who dodges it with a grin.

Lando glances at his watch, letting out a soft sigh before pushing his chair back. “Alright, I gotta go get ready.”

Max leans back in his chair, nodding. “We’ll be in the garage before you head out.”

Lando grabs Y/N’s bag from the table, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, baby.”

Y/N blinks up at him, confused. “Am I not staying with Max?”

Lando shrugs, a small smirk on his lips. “You could… but I want you with me while I get ready. Your choice.”

Y/N smiles and stands up, slipping her hand into Lando’s. Max groans dramatically. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been benched. I’ve lost my WAG status.”

--------------------------------------------------------

Air Max

Lando holds up his phone, the camera capturing the view outside Max Verstappen’s private plane. His team had arranged with Drive to Survive to give Netflix a small peek into his life outside the paddock. Now, he’s tasked with filming parts of his day—something he’s getting used to but still isn’t entirely comfortable with.

The camera shifts, panning around the cabin before zooming in on Max and his girlfriend, who sit across from each other, faces buried in their phones.

“Look at these two… they’ve been like this since we took off,” Lando murmurs, walking closer while keeping the camera focused on them. He tilts the screen toward their hands, revealing the game they’re both locked into—a racing simulator. Neither of them spares him a glance.

“We asked you to join, mate,” Max chuckles without looking up.

Lando plops down beside Y/N, setting the camera down at an angle that captures all three of them. He starts poking her cheek, then her side, trying to get her attention.

“Lan. I swear, if I lose—”

“—Of course you will. You’re racing against Max.”

“She’s actually pretty good, you know,” Max chimes in, eyes still glued to his phone.

Before Lando can tease again, Y/N suddenly shrieks, making him flinch. She drops her phone onto the table, leaning back in her seat with a dramatic groan of defeat.

“What did I say, baby?” Lando laughs, nudging her shoulder.

But Y/N is already sitting back up, snatching her phone with urgency. “One more, Max. Come on, let’s go. This is the one—I can feel it.”

Lando groans, throwing his head back. “Y/N, baby, please. Let’s watch a movie, take a nap, something.”

“In a bit, Lan, I need to beat Max.”

Max smirks, finally looking up at Lando with a teasing glint in his eye. “Sorry, mate. I win.”

"We're flying commercial next time"

--------------------------------------------------------

I'm just here for the coffee

The Drive to Survive camera crew catches up with Lando as he wraps up media duties alongside Oscar in McLaren hospitality. He’s distracted—eyes constantly scanning the room, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen as he checks it every few seconds. His expression shifts between mild frustration and confusion.

Just as he exhales sharply, about to shove his phone into his pocket, a familiar voice calls out.

"Lando!"

Max F calls out, relief on his face as he finally spots his friend sitting by the doors. Lando strides towards him, but before he can even greet them, Max speaks again.

"Oh, I thought Y/N would be with you. I've been trying to reach her for hours now."

Lando’s brows furrow, holding up his phone.

"I’ve been trying to call her too. I thought she was with you."

The realization hits him like a switch flipping. His expression drops into something between disbelief and sheer irritation. He exhales, shakes his head, and lets out a knowing scoff.

"I might know where she is."

Cue the most dramatic yet comedic smash cut imaginable.

Ferrari Hospitality – Where Y/N Has Been the Entire Time.

The camera immediately cuts to Y/N, relaxed and unbothered, seated at a table inside Ferrari hospitality. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter as they sip espresso, surrounded by Carlos, Charles, and their girlfriends. The Ferrari logo gleams proudly in the background, almost mocking.

Y/N leans forward, grinning at something Carlos just said, stirring their coffee absentmindedly. Charles adds a comment that earns another round of laughter. It’s the picture of comfort—warm, inviting, and clearly where Y/N has been all along.

Then, in the background, the doors swing open.

The camera follows Lando as he steps inside, expression unreadable—until the dramatic zoom-in captures the very moment.

"Unbelievable."

Lando’s voice cuts through the laughter, making the entire table turn their heads toward him. The easygoing chatter dies down as he strides over, hands on his hips, phone still clutched in one hand. His brows are furrowed—confused, mildly exasperated, and very much not amused.

"Baby, Max and I have been calling you."

Y/N blinks before reaching into their bag, finally checking their phone. The screen lights up with multiple missed calls. A sheepish smile tugs at their lips as they glance back up at Lando.

"Oops? Sorry, Lan. I had my ringer off."

Charles smirks, leaning back in his chair. "She’s been having a great time with us, mate."

Lando squints at him before turning back to Y/N. "How long have you been here?"

Before Y/N can even open their mouth, Carlos chimes in.

"Actually, quite late today. She came an hour later than usual."

Lando blinks. Processes. "Later than usual?" His gaze snaps back to Y/N, his confusion shifting into shock. "How often are you here?!"

Y/N, fully caught now, shrugs, setting their coffee down.

"I mean… almost every media day? You’re busy filming, and their coffee is really good here so I just—"

Lando groans, rubbing his face. "Oh baby…"

Before he can spiral further, Rebecca—clearly enjoying the moment—leans in with a grin. "Show Lando what Carlos and Charles gave you!"

Y/N shoots her a betrayed side-eye, but it’s too late. Lando’s eyes widen slightly as he looks between them. He nods at Y/N, expectantly.

Y/N sighs, reaching back into their bag. With hesitant hands, they pull out a very red Ferrari cap and place it on the table.

Silence.

Lando stares.

Alex, grinning, decides to throw more fuel into the fire. "You could’ve at least signed it for her."

"Oh shit—yeah." Charles grabs the cap, immediately patting down his pockets for a pen. He looks around helplessly before turning to Lando.

"Do you have a Sharpie?"

Lando blinks. His eye twitches.

"Do I—" He stops himself, inhales deeply, then exhales, running a hand down his face.

"Okay. We’re leaving. Come on."

Y/N barely has time to protest before Lando takes their hand and starts walking. "But— baby no my coffee..."

"I'll get you your own coffee machine"

--------------------------------------------------------

A victory in full bloom

It’s the moment Lando’s been dreaming of his entire career: his first-ever Formula 1 race win. The podium ceremony is over, and he’s just wrapped up celebrating with his team, taking photos and soaking in the victory. The Netflix crew trails him closely, hoping to catch a quick statement from the new race winner. But Lando’s not focused on the cameras or interviews—his mind is set on finding someone. He’s been eager to celebrate with Y/N.

As he walks towards the trailers, his eyes scan the area until they land on her. There she is, standing by his trailer with a small bouquet of flowers in hand. Lando stops dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his chest for a moment. A wide smile spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of her, the bouquet a simple yet perfect gesture for this milestone moment.

Y/N looks up and meets his gaze, a soft smile tugging at her lips. It’s clear she’s been waiting for him. "Hey champ"

Lando’s eyes light up when he sees them, his smile growing even wider. He’s still buzzing from the excitement of the win, but this moment feels different—more personal.

Lando is grinning from ear to ear "What’s this? For me?"

Y/N shyly holds the bouquet out towards him, a soft smile on her face. "Yeah... It's not the best, but it's the only one I could get my hands on at such short notice."

Lando doesn’t hesitate for a second. He sets his trophy down on the ground, his attention entirely on the flowers in her hands. He takes the bouquet from her gently, inspecting it with a look of pure joy on his face. The smile never leaves as he admires the thoughtful gesture.

Y/N flinches slightly when she hears the clink of the trophy being set down. “Oh, Lan, don’t just leave it on the floor—”

Before she can even move to pick it up, Lando pulls her into a tight, elated hug, careful not to crush the flowers between them.

“These are beautiful, my love. Thank you,” he whispers against her ear, his voice full of affection. “God, I love you. You’re the best, you know that, right?”

Y/N, caught in the warmth of the moment, smiles softly, her heart racing. Lando’s arms around her feel like the perfect celebration of everything they’ve worked for together.

"I'm so proud of you, Lan, my race winner," Y/N says softly, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lando lets out a quiet laugh, glancing over her shoulder and catching sight of one of the camera crew members standing off to the side, clearly eager to capture the intimate moment. His smile widens, but then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he pulls away from her and takes her hand firmly in his.

"Alright, you vultures," he calls out playfully to the crew, his tone teasing as he begins to walk away with Y/N in tow. "Go film someone else now."

Lando walks off, his stride confident and relaxed, one hand holding the bouquet Y/N gave him, the other wrapped around her hand. His focus is entirely on her as they move down the paddock together, the world around them momentarily fading away.

"Lando the trophy!"

--------------------------------------------------------

Fan Favourite

The cameras follow Lando and Y/N as they stroll hand in hand through the paddock, stopping every few meters to greet excited fans. It’s a typical moment for them, with Lando taking his time to chat and take photos with the crowd, but today, there’s a certain energy in the air that the fans—especially the ones around them—seem to feed off of.

Y/N stands to the side, watching with a smile as Lando interacts with a group of young fans. One fan, in particular, catches his attention. She’s holding a small, handmade friendship bracelet, her hands slightly trembling with excitement.

Lando’s smile widens as he notices the bracelet. He looks at the fan and gestures toward it with a raised eyebrow, "That’s really pretty. Is that for me?"

The fan's eyes go wide, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to form words. Finally, she manages a shy reply, "Oh, uh... actually, it’s for Y/N. If you could give it to her, please?"

Lando lets out a lighthearted laugh, realizing his mistake, a blush creeping up his neck. He turns over his shoulder, calling out to Y/N with a playful tone, "Love, c’mere. They wanna say hi."

Y/N steps forward, smiling warmly as she walks towards them. But before she even gets close, a few of the girls in the group let out high-pitched squeals, and Lando, hearing the reaction, pauses mid-step. He turns around to face the group, his jaw dropping in mock surprise. “Right, calm down,” he teases, raising an eyebrow. "It's almost like you're more excited to meet her than me!"

The fans giggle, some blushing, while Y/N smiles with a soft laugh, taking the bracelet from the fan’s outstretched hand. Lando, now with a playful smirk, shakes his head, clearly enjoying the teasing moment.

Y/N immediately slips the bracelet onto her wrist, admiring it with a bright smile. “This is so pretty! Thank you so much, you guys are the sweetest.”

Before she can say anything else, another fan eagerly steps forward, holding out a small crocheted cat dressed in what looks suspiciously like Lando’s helmet.

“I got you this as well!” the fan beams.

Y/N gasps, carefully taking the little plushie into her hands. “Oh my gosh! Is this supposed to be Lando?” She turns it over, inspecting the tiny details, from the pattern of the helmet to the little number on its side. “This is adorable—you guys…” Her voice softens, and she clutches the cat close to her chest, looking at the group with a touched expression, lips forming a small pout.

Lando, standing off to the side, watches with a fond smile, his heart swelling as he sees how naturally she interacts with his fans. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring until Y/N turns to him, stretching out her arm with her phone in hand.

“Lan, baby, take a photo of us, please?”

Lando blinks, snapping out of his daze. He lets out a chuckle before taking the phone from her hand. “Yeah, yeah—sorry, got a bit distracted there.”

After snapping a few more photos and sharing a couple more laughs, Y/N and Lando exchanged their final goodbyes with the fans before continuing their stroll toward the McLaren garage.

Y/N glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist, still admiring the thoughtful gift, while Lando walked beside her, hands in his pockets, a playful pout forming on his lips.

"Can't believe I gotta share my girlfriend with my fans now," he muttered dramatically, shaking his head.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, bumping her shoulder against his. "Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t love it," she teased.

Lando sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "I mean, I was the main attraction. Now they’re out here squealing over you and giving you gifts." He shot her a look, but the corners of his lips twitched, betraying his amusement.

Y/N smirked, holding up the tiny crocheted cat. "Jealous?"

Lando scoffed, but his eyes flickered down to the plushie, and he hummed in fake thought. “Depends... do I get one in return?”

Y/N grinned. "Maybe if you win the race this weekend."

Lando groaned, tilting his head back. “So now I have to earn your love? This is outrageous.”

Y/N just giggled, slipping her hand into his, swinging it slightly as they walked. “You love the challenge, Norris.”

He sighed, squeezing her hand. “Yeah... yeah, I do.”

--------------------------------------------------------

P's new favourite

Lando’s relationship with Max Verstappen’s stepdaughter, Penelope, had always been a good one. Between race weekends and off-season meetups in Monaco, he saw her often, and they had their own little bond.

But ever since he started dating Y/N, it seemed like P had a new favorite.

Just before heading to the garage, Lando stood outside McLaren hospitality, casually chatting with his mom, a few friends, Kelly, and P—who, instead of paying attention to the conversation, was entirely focused on showing Lando her collection of stickers.

Lando’s smile softens as he looks down at the little girl, carefully pressing the sticker onto his fireproofs. “For me?” he asks, feigning surprise. “Thank you, P.”

“Bye, Lando!” P grins, bouncing on her heels before giving him a high five, which quickly turns into a hug.

Lando barely has time to wrap his arms around her before she suddenly gasps dramatically, pulling away as fast as she had latched onto him. Without a second thought, she bolts in the opposite direction.

“Y/N!”

The camera follows her path, cutting to Y/N just as she arrives. A wide smile spreads across her face as she kneels down, arms open and ready for impact.

P barrels straight into her, nearly knocking her over as she wraps her tiny arms around Y/N in a tight hug.

Y/N lets out a small laugh, steadying herself. “Hi, P! I love your hair—you look so pretty!”

P quickly pulls back, twirling proudly to show off her outfit. “Lando said he liked my hair too!” she exclaims.

Y/N gasps, playing along. “Well, if Lando said it, then it must be true.”

P giggles before Y/N takes her small hands in hers. “Alright, come on then, let’s go say goodbye to Lando.”

As they make their way back toward the group, Kelly watches them with a knowing smile. “She literally pulled away from Lando’s hug just to run to you,” she muses, shaking her head with amusement.

Lando lets out a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms. “Yeah, my family does the same thing when I bring her home with me.”

Cisca, who had been standing off to the side, bursts into laughter, nodding in agreement. “It’s true.”

“Hi, baby. I’m about to head off. I’ll see you after,” Lando murmurs, stepping in close to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips before pulling her into a tight hug.

Before Y/N can even melt into the embrace, a small but determined voice interrupts.

“Okay, bye now, Lando.”

P, eyes set with purpose, marches forward and starts pushing Lando away with her tiny hands.

Lando lets out a laugh, barely stumbling back before crossing his arms over his chest. “Excuse me? Am I not even allowed to kiss my girlfriend goodbye now?”

“She’s mine!” P announces proudly, wrapping her arms around Y/N in a possessive hug.

Y/N laughs, running a gentle hand over the little girl’s head. “Alright, missy, I think Lando gets the message loud and clear.” She glances at Lando with a teasing smile before blowing him a kiss. “I’ll see you later, my love. Good luck and be safe.”

Lando sneaks in a quick peck to her cheek before jogging off, grinning. “I’ll be back to take my girlfriend back, P! Watch over her for me!”

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Pt. 2

Simon had never been so glad that the boys decided to stay on base and leave him alone in the dingy pub they usually went to after missions. After all, there was no way he could focus in on you, the way he was now if Johnny was talking his ear off.

You looked so pretty, sitting at the bar, nursing a fancy-looking cocktail, while scrolling through your phone. He couldn’t help but let his eyes trace over your figure, his fingers twitching with the need to touch you, grobe you, hold you. The moment you glanced at him over his shoulder, was the moment he knew you were going to be his.

For the rest of the evening, he watched you. Silently sipping his drink, he watched your every move, not taking his eyes off you even a second. Occasionally, he noticed you glancing at him, your eyes wide, lips slightly apart. He couldn’t decipher if you were curious or intimidated. And he couldn’t decide which he would prefer.

By the time he noticed you finishing your last drink, he already had a plan. He’d follow you home, take some time off, and just watch you. Learn your routine and use the time you were gone to install some cameras. He wanted - no needed - to keep you safe after all, right? So, he paid his tab and walked out of the pub, leaning against the wall, waiting for you to leave and ready to follow you.

A few moments later, the wooden door opened again and you walked out, looking a bit frazzled. Hurriedly, you looked around until your eyes met Simon’s. A look of relief washed over you and you quickly made your way over to him. Simon wasn’t sure whether he should leave or stay. He didn’t want you to know him just yet, after all.

Just as he pushed off the wall and started to walk in the other direction, did you call out to him. “Uhm, I’m sorry, Sir?” He stilled. Why the bloody hell were you talking to him?

Slowly, he turned around, just to come face to face with your coy smile. He raised an eyebrow, even if his heart was beating a mile an hour with your proximity. You closed the gap until you were only an arm’s length away, still smiling up at him.

“I-I’m sorry, I hope this isn’t too direct, but I wanted to ask if I could have your number? You’re really handsome and seem like a nice man. Of course, it’s okay if not, I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I-” He stopped you, holding out his hand. It took you a second to realize what he wanted, but when you did, you quickly, and clumsily, fished out your phone, unlocked it, and placed it in his hand.

Simon wasn’t sure how he kept his hand from shaking, especially when your fingers brushed against his. As nonchalantly as possible, he saved his number, called himself so he had yours as well, and handed you your phone back. You grinned and locked it, slipping it back into your bag. “Thank you…well…have a good night.”

You were about to turn around and walk away when he gently caught your elbow. “Wanna go eat something?” Surprised, you looked up at him, before nodding with a giant grin and following the big scary man.

And that’s the story of how you two met. At least, it’s Simon’s version. If one were to hear your version, the true one, one would know how Simon was blushing the entire time. How his hands were shaking so much, he almost dropped the phone, and how his hands were so sweaty, he had to dry them off on his jeans the entire evening.

A/N: Just a little something I wrote when I was actually supposed to be studying for my exam. Oops.

[missdynamighttt]

acidentally snooping on bf! katsuki's phone and seeing something... kinky.

you were just on katsuki’s phone, playing subway surfers. you honestly didn’t even remember because the moment you accidentally swiped to his notes app, your eyes landed on a particular note titled “shit to try w/ her” and curiosity got the best of you.

at first, you thought it was something mundane—maybe new date ideas, training routines, or even a new recipes. but as soon as you opened it, your face went hot.

because it was a list. a very detailed list of all the filthy things katsuki wanted to do to you. some of it was stuff you’d already done—rougher, filthier things that had you squeezing your thighs together just remembering them. but then there were the others. the things he clearly hadn’t brought up yet.

shit to try w/ her

- overstimulating her (worse than usual. she looks so pretty when she cries on my dick)

- mirror sex while making her watch (want her to see how fuckin’ pretty she looks fallin’ apart.)

- recording it (for us only).

- thigh riding while i just sit back and watch (bet she'd whine so fuckin pretty too)

- more praise. (she likes that. she gets all shy. cute as fuck.)

- see how many times i can make her come in a single night.

your eyes widened at that last one. oh.

you kept scrolling, your thighs pressing together involuntarily. you knew katsuki was a freak, but seeing it written out like this, with all the little notes and thoughts he’d clearly been holding onto—made your breath hitch.

this was… a lot. not that you were opposed to most of it, but the fact that katsuki was sitting on this list, keeping it to himself, planning? that was almost hotter than the list itself.

you were still staring at the screen when you heard the bathroom door open. before you could react, a shadow loomed over you.

“the fuck you doin’?” katsuki’s voice was gruff, but he sounded relaxed—like he was toweling off his hair as he walked into the room.

you scrambled to lock his phone, but it was too late. the second he saw the look on your face, the way you were gripping his phone like you’d just uncovered a government secret, his eyes narrowed.

“…what did you see?” his voice was cautious now, tinged with suspicion.

you slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “me? what are you doing making a list of all the filthy things you wanna do to me?”

katsuki froze .a slow, deep flush crept up his neck, spreading to his ears. his jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides like he wasn’t sure if he should snatch his phone away or act like nothing happened.

“…you weren’t supposed to see that.”

your smirk widened. “oh? and when was i supposed to?”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “dunno. when i fuckin’ brought it up.”

you leaned in, voice teasing. “well, damn. didn’t know you had all these filthy little fantasies about me.”

“shut up,” katsuki sputtered, face burning, his hand swiping for the phone. he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “fuckin’ kill me.”

you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “y’know, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

his fingers dug into your waist, his jaw clenching. “don’t—”

“i can’t believe you wrote it all down,” you teased breathlessly. “you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

katsuki groaned, muffled against your neck. “i’m gonna kill you. you keep runnin’ that mouth, and i’ll start checkin’ shit off that list right now."

you bit your lip, feeling bolder. “you know… we could. cross something off the list.”

his eyes snapped to yours, darkening in an instant.

“…get on the bed.”

and then, without another word, he crushed his lips against yours and, well—you did end up checking something off that list that night. particularly, the last one.

you lost count somewhere after the third orgasm, but katsuki didn’t. oh no, he kept track. every time your body seized up, every time you sobbed his name, every time you gasped that you couldn’t take anymore—he whispered the number into your ear like a reminder.

“four,” he’d growled, dragging his thumb over your swollen clit. “look at you, fuckin’ cryin’ for me.”

“five,” he rasped later, his grip on your thighs tightening when you tried to squirm away. “told ya you could give me more.”

by the last one, your body was boneless, your voice gone, and your mind a hazy blur of pleasure. katsuki finally relented, collapsing beside you and pulling you into his chest.

you felt his lips press against your temple, his breathing uneven as he whispered, “fuckin’ champ.”

the morning after, you were sprawled across katsuki’s chest, his arm draped lazily around your waist as the sun peeked through the curtains. your entire body ached in the best way possible.

you groaned softly, shifting to get more comfortable, and his chest rumbled with a low chuckle, his fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare back. "you alive?"

"barely," you mumbled into his chest. "my legs hate you."

he chuckled, the sound vibrating beneath your cheek. "told ya you could take it."

you huffed a laugh, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. his crimson eyes were soft in the morning light, the usual sharpness replaced with warmth—and just a hint of smug pride.

“well, i didn’t know you were gonna go for the damn world record,” you teased. “how many times was it?”

his smirk deepened. “seven.”

your jaw dropped. “seven?”

“mhm,” he squeezed your waist. “you were real fuckin’ cute, too. cryin’, beggin’, squeezin’ me like that. thought you were gonna pass out on number six.”

your cheeks burned. “oh my god, stop.”

“why? can’t handle hearin’ how fuckin’ pretty you were last night?”

you covered your face with your hands, groaning. but katsuki was having none of it—he pried your hands away and pinned them to the mattress, leaning down until his lips brushed yours.

“seven,” he repeated against your mouth, grinning when you squirmed beneath him. “and next time? we’re goin’ for eight.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[b4tgirlz]

practice round

dick grayson x fem!reader

summary; when some guy takes an interest in you, your extremely thoughtful best friend dick convinces you that you need a little more… experience. and who better to help you practice, than himself?

warnings; 18+, manipulation, yandere-lite themes… best friends <3 nsfw, reader is inexperienced, but not a virgin, possessiveness, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill)

author’s note; felt depraved things writing this… if you enjoy then let me know!

You’re sat on your bed, curled up near the edge where Dick is sprawled out on the floor beside you, scrolling through his phone.

He noticed a slight shift in your behaviour about ten minutes ago when you’d received a notification on your phone. He wonders if you’re going to tell him about it — he supposes it doesn’t really matter if you don’t. He’ll just look through it later, but of course he wants you to be the one to share.

You look so nervous, knees drawn up to your chest like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. It’s adorable. It’s pathetic. It makes something sharp twist in Dick’s stomach.

Finally, you blurt it out. “So… this guy asked me out.”

Dick stills, his finger hovering over his phone screen as he freezes in place. “Yeah? Who?”

You say his name like you’re embarrassed and Dick smiles, slow and easy. But inside, he’s seething. It takes a lot to keep his expression carefully neutral. He’s heard you talk about this guy before, offhandedly calling him cute. He has no idea you may have possibly been forming a crush on him.

You hug your pillow against your chest and scrunch up your nose. “He’s so… popular. You know? Good looking. Everyone’s obsessed with him, so I don’t know…”

“Sure,” Dick mumbles, pretending to focus on his Instagram feed again. “He’s been with… what, half the senior class?”

You wince. Dick thanks the universe in this moment that the guy who has taken an interest in you is basically a manwhore. It’s going to make this so much easier.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I guess. He’s really, uh, experienced.”

Dick turns around to face you properly. He scans your face, assessing the way you bite at your lip and look down, your gaze faraway somewhere. “Wait, you’re nervous.”

He forces himself to sound surprised, but of course he knows you’re nervous. He’s banking on it, in fact.

You nod, sighing as you lean back on your bed. “What if I’m not enough for him in… y’know, that area. He’s probably used to girls who know what they’re doing and I’ve barely even—”

“Hey, hey,” Dick cuts you off, getting up to take a seat next to you on the bed and reaching a hand out to lightly squeeze your knee. “You’re more than enough, sweetheart.”

He means that. You’re way more than that jackass deserves. Dick has heard how he’s talked about women before. Even if this guy wasn’t scum, there’s no way in hell Dick is going to let him have you. The gears in his mind are already turning and there’s a growing excitement in his lower belly that he can hardly contain.

“You just said that he’s been with so many people,” you point out, frowning at him.

Dick sighs, like it pains him to say it. “Yeah, well. Sure, he’s probably used to certain things. Stuff he’s probably expecting without even thinking about it. But that isn’t your fault.”

You stare at him, looking utterly crestfallen. He can practically hear your heart sinking and it only spurs him on as he shifts closer to you, dropping his voice into something more intimate and safe.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you. You know that right?”

“Thanks, Dick,” you mumble, trying to smile. But he’s not done.

“It’s just guys like him,” Dick continues slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing his words. “They get bored really fast. If something feels too new… too awkward…”

He trails off, allowing the implication to hang heavy between you. Dick is well aware that you’re not a virgin, but you may as well be. He’s talking bullshit, obviously. He knows that this guy would kill to have you in his bed and that your lack of experience would only make you more appealing to his sick mind. Dick would know, considering his mind is even sicker when it comes to you. The difference is that you actually mean something to Dick.

“Oh,” you whisper, dropping your gaze. You look disappointed and Dick knows exactly what to say next.

“Look, if you’re that worried,” he starts, sighing like you’ve presented him with a problem. “You could always practice.”

You blink at him, startled. “Practice?”

He smiles at you, all warm and encouraging like he’s offering you a life raft. “Yeah. To get comfortable. Figure out what you like, what feels good. What to do. So that when it matters, you’re not nervous.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hesitating. “I guess. But, with who?”

Dick shrugs, noncommittal. “Me, if you want.”

As expected, you whip your head up to gape at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “What?”

He rolls his eyes, as though what you’re saying is silly. “Don’t make it weird,” he chuckles under his breath, keeping his hand on your knee. “We’re best friends. You trust me, right?”

You open your mouth, like you’re about to argue but then you shut it. Because you do trust him — you always have. “Yeah, I do, but—”

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says, softening his voice even more. Every word coming out of his mouth is a lie, but they’re necessary, really. You don’t know what you want yet, which is exactly why he’s here to help. “And wouldn’t you want to practice with someone you’re comfortable with? Someone who only wants to make you feel good and confident. To teach you how to make someone happy.”

Lies, lies, lies. He has no intention of letting that happen.

Dick starts to stroke your wrist, thumb gliding lazy circles over your pulse like he’s trying to calm you down. Judging by the way it quickens, he’s doing the opposite and he has to fight to hide his grin.

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper back. “You really think it’ll help?”

“Yeah, but it’s totally up to you. You don’t have to decide right now,” he says lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and marvelling at how your gaze is tracking his every movement. “If you’re already this nervous…”

Your voice comes out impossibly small. “What would we even do?”

Dick’s mouth twitches as he tries not to smile triumphantly. He’s got you exactly where he wants and he’s elated.

“We can just kiss for now,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your lips, immediately making them part. Fuck, he’s going to have a hard time stopping if that’s all you want to do. “Whatever you want.”

After hesitating for a second and testing Dick’s patience, you finally nod. It’s shy, barely a movement of your head, but you’re smiling at him and Dick feels it go straight to his groin.

“Okay, then,” he murmurs, agreeable like you’ve coaxed him into it. “Do you want to set the pace, or should I?”

Your shoulders relax a little at the kindness in his voice and you swallow. “You… you can.”

He almost groans at your words. So submissive, so willing. You’re giving him permission to do what he wants and oh, he’s going to take it.

Dick gently positions you so that you’re facing him a little closer, sneaking his hand around to your back like he’s done a million times. Except this time, he gently lifts up your chin and offers you a reassuring smile and you can’t help returning it, albeit nervously. It’s Dick after all — your best friend in the whole world. And he’s such a good one for helping you out, right?

As if you’re getting impatient, you glance down at his lips and he decides that’s enough playing around.

Dick leans forward and brushes his lips against yours to test the waters. When you don’t move away, he presses his mouth to yours and your eyes flutter shut.

You’re a little stiff at first, hesitant and unsure as you allow Dick to lead. And he’s more than happy to show you.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his hand slips back to cradle the back of your neck. His fingers tangle in your hair, fully controlling your movements and you let out the tiniest, most helpless whimper he’s ever heard from you.

Dick nearly loses it there and then.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to speak, and his lips brush yours with every word. “You can kiss me back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice coaxing and patient. He brushes his knuckles against your spine and swallows hard when you instinctively arch up into him. “Just… follow what I do.”

You nod, your expression dazed and faraway and when he leans in again, you press your mouth to his in a soft kiss.

Dick smiles against you, rewarding you by slanting his mouth more firmly against yours. This time he lets the kiss linger, letting you feel his warmth, the careful way he parts his lips to guide you how to breathe through it.

When you mimic him, he hums low in his throat, the noise vibrating against your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers, barely pulling back, his voice rough with approval. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your lips turn up, a shy smile gracing your face as you shiver slightly. “Thank you,” you mumble out, like you’re embarrassed.

Dick has manipulated you into kissing him and you’re thanking him. He’s so giddy he could burst.

Instead he settles for kissing you again, even deeper as his hands slide down to your hips where they lightly squeeze. The action makes you gasp softly against the kiss and he uses it, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip.

You stiffen, unsure and he immediately soothes you, hand against the side of your thigh. Your nerves are so cute. Almost as cute as the strawberry lipgloss that he’s tasting, which he knows is your favourite.

“Open up for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with patience. “Just a little. Let me in.”

You part your lips, all hesitant and sweet and Dick rewards you immediately by slipping his tongue in your mouth. You melt against him some more and he takes it as a sign to go further until he’s licking into your mouth, kissing you like he’s trying to eat you alive.

He’s borderline devouring you, getting hungrier when he feels you start to move with him, gasping into his mouth and making soft, pleased noises.

Dick can feel how overwhelmed you already are when you helplessly reach out to grab the fabric of his t-shirt, clutching him like a lifeline. He needs more.

Pulling back far enough to speak, he tries to control his own breathing. It’s just so hard when he’s this excited. “When a guy really likes a girl…” he says lowly. “He won’t wanna stop at just kissing. You wanna make sure you’re ready for all of that?”

You stiffen for a second and Dick decides to change his tune, gently kissing your forehead like he always does and begins to shift back a little.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” he relents, trying to sound as flippant as he possibly can when his hard on is painfully straining against his jeans. He begins to slide his hands away from your body as though he’s unaffected. As though his jaw isn’t clenched from the restraint of not touching you. “We can stop.”

“No!” Your hands shoot out to hold his own in place where they grip your waist and your eyes don’t leave his mouth for a second. Your’e panting softly, lips swollen and bitten — courtesy of Dick — and your eyes are glassy. “I— we don’t have to stop… I want to keep going. Please.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so sweetly?

“Whatever you want,” he agrees, voice calm as ever. But his blood is hot and he’s trying so hard not to rip off your clothes and fuck you into the mattress until your bed is broken in half. All in good time, he tells himself as he guides you further back. “Lie down for me?”

You rest your head against your pillows obediently and Dick runs his hands up your sides, slowly and teasingly. “I’m going to take off your shirt now.”

Nodding, you lift up your arms when he begins to peel away your oversized t-shirt, shrugging it over your head to toss it to the ground. Dick’s eyes don’t leave your chest and it’s like he’s a man possessed when he immediately leans down to drop kisses to your neck and down your chest, grazing the swell of your breasts.

“So, so pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, his hands sliding behind your back to fumble with your bra clasp. You don’t stiffen this time and he takes it as permission to unclasp it before sliding your straps down your arms and leaning back to stare at you. “Fuck…”

You shrink under his gaze, trying to place your hands over your chest when he doesn’t move, and the action snaps him out of it.

“Don’t cover up,” he instructs, impatiently brushing your hands away before looking directly into your eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A little laugh leaves you, like you don’t believe him and he decides it’s high time to convince you. Ducking his head down, Dick immediately swipes his tongue across your hardened nipple and you hiss, hand flying up to muffle your gasps as he starts to suck. Everywhere. He’s biting and licking at your chest, purposely leaving marks. If you try and do this with anyone else, they’ll know he was here first with all the blossoming bruises he’s sucking onto your skin.

Your gasps are coming out too quietly for his liking.

“No, don’t cover your mouth,” he says firmly, circling your wrists with his much larger hands to guide them away and pin them to your sides. “Guys like it when you’re noisy.”

Translation: Dick wants to hear you scream.

He returns his mouth to your body, this time venturing lower as he peppers kisses to your stomach. Lower and lower until he’s at the waistband of your shorts. He kisses around your belly button, nipping at your skin to distract you from your nerves as he slides the shorts down your legs.

You’re not even protesting anymore. In fact, you’re eager as you kick the item of clothing off your body. Dick huffs out a laugh against your belly when he sees your pink cherry-print panties. He recognises them from all the times he’s rifled through your underwear draw — it’s his favourite pair.

“Stop laughing,” you say breathlessly as you playfully tug on a strand of Dick’s hair. “It’s laundry day.”

“No, it’s cute,” he says, completely serious as you roll your eyes. The attitude you give him makes him want to fuck it out of you and so he swipes his thumb across the centre of your panties, right where your clit is, pulling a breathless sound from you. “So, so cute.”

You’re already soaked through the pink and red fabric, your wetness forming a damp spot visible through your panties and he grins. Shit, he’s barely touched you.

Dick props up your legs for better access and tugs at your panties, sliding them down to your ankles and then he groans.

He sounds like you’ve just sucker-punched him and before you have the time to process it, Dick sinks a finger into you easily and without any friction.

You’re so wet that it slides right in and the sounds that leave your lips make Dick’s mouth water. You’re gasping on choked breaths as he moves in and out of you, dragging his digit against your walls.

“So responsive,” he exhales, keeping a slow pace as not to overwhelm you. It only lasts a second though, as he can’t help wondering what other noises he can get out of you. His other hand comes up to start circling at your clit and your hand flys up to grab at his inky black locks.

“Oh, sh…shit. Dick, oh my God,” you whimper as the double stimulation makes your body twitch. You’re so consumed by pleasure that you probably don’t realise how hard you’re pulling on his hair — it’s a good thing he likes it. “Oh, please…”

He thinks he could die right now, hearing you beg him. For what, you don’t sound sure, but he obliges you with something. That something being a second finger which slides in almost as easily as the first.

The whine that leaves you is music to his ears and he pumps his fingers in and out, stretching you open in preparation. “Good?”

His question is teasing, since he can tell from the way your eyes are screwed shut that you do think it’s good. You nod nonetheless, whimpering out a “Yeah, so good. S-so good, Dick.”

Dick hums, increasing his pace absentmindedly as his erection brushes against your sheets. He’s practically humping your duvet, it’s pathetic. But he can’t bring himself to feel shameful about it when you’re looking so fucked out before him and he’s barely even done anything.

Fuck, he’s nearly drooling and so he decides the only thing to do is remove his hand from your clit. Your eyes flutter open at the loss of contact, despite his fingers still moving inside of you.

“Wait, what are you— Nngh.”

Dick flattens his tongue against your cunt and drags it up over your clit. You cry out, tangling your fingers further in his hair and keeping his head between your legs. Not that you need to when he’s eating you out like a man starved.

His tongue is moving against you like you’re his last meal while his fingers curl upwards into your pussy, making your eyes prick with tears. The second he starts sucking at your clit, you arch off the bed and helplessly grind against his face, covering his chin in your slick.

Dick moans into your cunt, pulling away a little to ask you in between licks. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

When he doesn’t hear an answer, his fingers pause in their movements and he lifts his head up to look at you.

“I— I don’t know,” you whisper, breathing heavily. “I’ve never… y’know, I haven’t—”

You’ve never had an orgasm

It feels like Dick’s luckiest day alive, he thinks to himself and he can’t help the wicked grin that splits across his face. His slides his fingers out of you, making you whine and his grin widens as he climbs over you, swiping a hand over his mouth before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he says soothingly, starting to pepper kisses over your cheek and jaw. “We still have more practicing. You’re going to cum on my cock for the first time, okay?”

“Okay.” Your response is almost immediate and he huffs out a laugh at how willing you are now. Any hesitation has since left you and Dick doesn’t have to convince you to do anything.

Not when you’re tugging at his shirt to take it off, which he happily obliges, reaching behind his back with one hand to shrug it over his head.

You exhale shakily, reaching out tentatively to trail your fingers over the sculpted lines of his chest, the hard ridges of muscle and the soft scattering of dark hair trailing down to disappear into his jeans.

“You’re beautiful too,” you say under your breath with a shy smile and he lets out a broken laugh, rough and shaky, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss at your pulse point.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

When your hand drags down his abdomen and further down to his waistband, Dick shudders — a harsh tremor wracking through his body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Take off my jeans.”

Your fingers fumble to unbutton them and before he knows it, he’s tugging them off and you’re looking down at his cock straining impossibly hard against his boxers.

Dick doesn’t need to instruct you this time, and you’re hastily undressing him, allowing his achingly hard cock to spring free. You let out a breath at the sight of him, his leaking tip practically sore from neglect.

Your hands come up to hesitantly wrap around him, dragging his precum down his length to better stroke him. You do it painfully slow and he hisses through gritted teeth, jerking his hips into your hand which is so, so tiny compared to him.

“Am I doing this right?”

Your quizzical voice nearly makes him buckle, and he decides he’s had enough of not being inside of you.

“You’re perfect,” he promises, sliding a hand up the expanse of your thigh to squeeze your ass. “You’re more than perfect, but if you keep going, I’m going to cum all over your hand and that’s not what we’re practising today.”

You give him a sheepish smile, removing your warm hand and letting it rest by your side while he hovers over you.

Dick glances over your naked frame and nearly sighs aloud at the sight, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” you say, nodding at him to continue.

Dick brings his length to your cunt and drags it up and down once to cover the tip in your slick, marvelling at the natural lubricant. He’s not going to need anything else to slip right in and when your body twitches at the feeling of his head dragging against your clit, he smirks.

And then he slips the tip right into you, slowly working you through the delicious burn as you gasp. In the back of his mind, he’s a little bit concerned that you haven’t bothered to ask him to wear a condom (not that he was going to — he knows exactly what birth control you’re on, it’s fine), but your compliance is so naive. He’s glad it’s just for him.

“Ohhh, fuck. You’re doing so well, you can take it,” he grunts out, trying to go further in as slow as possible. His hands are clenched around your sheets as he slowly pushes and pushes deeper into you. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Huh? You gonna take all of me?”

“Yes, please, please, please,” you mutter, voice hoarse and nearly inaudible.

“Please what?” Dick stills, not moving another inch as he freezes halfway inside of you. “What do you want me to do, baby? Use your words.”

“Dick,” you rasp out, trying to buck your hips up for more, but Dick grabs your waist and pins you down. You can’t move an inch when he does this. “Please, please, I want more!”

He leans down to chuckle in your ear before he buries himself into you, sinking all the way down to the hilt.

He only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he’s pulling out and slamming back into you. The cry that leaves you is so beautiful and Dick wants to hear it again and again and so, all of a sudden, he’s driving his hips right into you with a desperation.

His cock is stretching you out more than his fingers ever could and you’re so wonderfully tight that Dick can feel every last inch of your velvety walls wrapped around him, sucking him in like something vicious and needy.

You’re practically incoherent now, the whimpers that leave you are basically sobs as Dick fucks into you hard and fast.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grits out, sweaty curls falling into his eyes as he doesn’t falter in his thrusts. He leans down to press his body against yours as he continues to pound your hot, weeping cunt. “You’re a fucking natural, you know that? You don’t need the practice, you’re perfect. He doesn’t even deserve you. Fuck, he doesn’t deserve to look at you, let alone fuck you.”

Dick’s control and flippant attitude is slipping as he mumbles the words against your skin, but what else can you expect when you’re scraping your nails down his back and pressing your tits against his chest? He doesn’t even care about fucking you under the guise of practice anymore and instead he’s whispering cruelly into your ear.

“You’re so fucking gone for my cock, I bet you can’t even remember his name,” he chuckles against the shell of your ear and you let out another sob, shaking your head frantically. “What is it, baby? What’s his name?”

“I don’t…” you trail off, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back into your head when Dick lifts up your leg to position it over his shoulder, hitting a brand new angle that makes your whole body tense and writhe. He repeats the question and you whine, arching your back even more as you clutch his bicep. “Fuck! I— I don’t know, oh my God, I don’t remember. Oh, Dick, please, it’s so good! You’re so fucking good, I can’t—”

Dick smirks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

He leans back and brings your other leg over his other shoulder to drive his length into you impossibly deep and you scream his name so loudly that there’s no way your neighbours could miss it.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours are so obscene in the otherwise quiet of your bedroom that he wishes he could record it to listen to the audio later. He makes a mental note for next time.

As soon as Dick feels your cunt begin to clench around him, he knows you’re close and fuck if he isn’t too. Sweat is coating his back and he feels out of control — you don’t look any better as there are tears of pleasure running down your cheeks, your tits bouncing with every thrust, the sheen of sweat over them catching in the light.

Fuck, he groans out a guttural noise as he picks up the pace to piston into you like a fucking machine. Reaching over in between your legs, he starts to rub quick circles into your clit with his thumb, leaning down to spit on it.

He watches with awe as his thumb rubs his spit into your cunt and the more he circles your clit, the harder he slams into you. Soon, you’re coming so hard that your body trembles with a high pitched whine and your nails are drawing blood down Dick’s back.

The way your cunt is clutching his cock through your orgasm makes him follow quickly and he’s as much of a wreck as you are, burying his face in your neck and sliding his arms under you to pull you close to him as his hips begin to falter. Before he knows it, Dick is shooting hot ropes of cum all over your walls with a choked groan.

It feels never ending, the way you’re milking him for all he’s worth and he decides he never wants to separate from you, keeping himself buried inside of you as he collapses onto you.

He leans most of his weight on his arms beside you, but he’s close enough to feel your racing heartbeat against his chest as you catch your breath.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he pants, one of his hands coming over to rest on your belly where he traces his fingers. “So fucking good…”

Your lips curve up into a smile and although it’s tired, he can tell you’re pleased.

He presses soft kisses into your temple, still buried deep inside of you. Your legs stay wrapped around him and your arms encircle his broadness in a bear hug, not eager to let go any time soon.

Dick is such a good best friend, after all.

[simpforboys]

more frat!perv!manipulator!rafe who is still obsessed w topper’s dumb gf

warnings: groping, manipulating, ditsy/dumb/innocent!reader, handjob, praise, cheating, kissing, brief thigh humping

thank you for 6,000 friends <33

series masterlist

It shouldn’t have surprised Rafe, really. Topper is your boyfriend, after all.

But when Rafe walked in on you sitting on Topper’s lap, giggling at some compilation of cats doing funny things, it irritated Rafe more than anything.

“Hi, Rafey.” You greet him warmly, your pretty eyes flicking up to see his cold blue ones.

“Hey, sweetness.” Rafe murmurs, although he doesn’t look at you like he typically does. He just hated being around you and Topper together, when you were so affectionate, knowing that you were with his best friend and not him.

“How was class, man?” Topper asks, his hand absentmindedly running up and down your crossed legs. You were only wearing some leggings and a crop top, a more casual afternoon.

“S’fine.” Rafe grunts, taking off his snapback and running a hand through his hair.

He moved over to his twin xl and hopped up on it, his back against the pillow as he propped himself up on an elbow and started scrolling on his phone, trying desperately to block out you sitting on Topper’s lap.

“You don’t wanna watch cat videos with us, Rae?” You ask, turning to look at the tall man who is lying with his thighs spread out a bit.

“‘m good,” he replies shortly.

You frown, but before you could even think about going back to watching the cute kitties, Topper was patting your thigh.

“I gotta go do somethin’, babe. I’ll be back in like twenty minutes.”

You hum, getting off your boyfriend’s lap as he stood up. You gave Topper a small peck, watching as he grabbed his wallet and keys, before uttering a “goodbye” to you and Rafe.

You turned, looking at Rafe. His eyes were already on you, a slight snarl on his lips.

“Are you okay, Rafey?” You ask, moving to the side of his lifted bed.

Rafe stares at you for a minute, not saying anything, the throbbing his cock is feeling against his jeans too distracting.

You poked his meaty thigh, feeling upset for your friend that he was feeling so down.

“Y’know what could make me feel better, sweet girl?” He hummed, a twisted idea forming in his mind as he turned his phone off and set it down on the bed.

“Hm?”

“A kiss.” He says bluntly, blue eyes fixated on the sight of your tummy poking out from the hem of the crop top and waistband of the leggings.

You just smile, leaning over to peck his cheek. You weren’t a stranger to giving Rafe kisses on the cheek or forehead, or him doing the same.

He grabbed your wrist before you could pull away, though. “Not there, baby.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

He had to internally roll his eyes. That stupid pout and look of confusion only made his cock harder.

Stupid girl.

“A real kiss, sweetness.”

You pondered it, lips still in a small pout. Your insides twisted, a weird feeling in your heart and tummy.

“I dunno, Rafe…”

“C’mon, pretty girl. S’jus’ me, yeah? Y’know only you can make me feel better.” He convinced, trying to resist the urge to just push his lips onto yours.

You went silent for a moment, just staring at him, looking unsure.

“We’re not doin’ anythin’ wrong, Y/n. You’re jus’ tryna cheer me up, ain’t that right?”

You let out a small huff, but nod. You did wanna cheer up Rafe, it killed you whenever he got so upset.

You leaned over the bed, his big hand moving to your thigh to help pull you up until you were almost hovering over the side of his body.

He kept his hand on your thigh, squeezing it a bit, feeling precum leak from his aching tip as he licked his own lips.

You both leaned in, him a bit too eagerly, you a bit too cautiously.

Your lips collided, and Rafe immediately took control and dominance. He hums into it, his left hand moving to the back of your neck, so you can’t pull away.

You had to put your hand on his thigh to keep yourself upright, which in response, he let out a small moan into the kiss.

His kisses were different than Topper’s. Topper was controlled, slow, sweet, gentle.

Rafe was desperate, dominant, rough, lustful.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, trying not to bust in his underwear when your tongue slid against his. He could still sense your hesitation, and it annoyed the hell out of him.

His right palm left your thigh, lifting your crop top up a bit as it shamelessly groped your tit through your bra. He felt you huff through your nose against his, and he couldn’t help but buck his hips up a bit.

“Mhm— you okay?”

You pull away, feeling him buck. You panted a bit, your lips swollen, as you looked down at his waistline.

“‘m jus’ feelin’ so needy, sweetness. Can ya help me?” He asks, giving you those puppy dog eyes.

The blue irises were just a weakness — no matter who had them.

“Um…” You hesitated, face warm. But then he took your palm and placed it on his clothed bulge, letting you feel how hard he is.

Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, Rafe was already unbuttoning the jeans, the words Lucky You embroidered. He pushed them down just enough, along with his navy blue boxer briefs, for his raging hard-on to stand out.

A small noise left you, one that caused more precum to leak from the dark pink mushroom tip.

“Ya trust me, yeah?” He hums, caressing your cheek.

You hesitantly nodded, eyes locked onto the big dick. Topper’s wasn’t this big… it was like the ones you see in porn.

He had to hide the devilish smirk on his lips as he spit on his own hand and guided it down to his throbbing shaft. “Gimme your hand, sweetness.”

Your hand shook as you held it out for him, a heat pooling in your tummy when your palm and fingers wrapped around him.

“Now move it up ‘n down… jus’ like that…”

He coos, throwing his head back a little as you began to hesitantly, and curiously, stroke his cock.

His big hand went back up to grope your tit, feeling the soft flesh as you continued to jerk him off, thinking you were just helping him.

You may be Topper’s girlfriend, but Rafe knew you were his dumb helper.

“S’good, pretty girl… makin’ Rafey feel good…”

He’s already trying desperately not to cum, but the way you were stuck staring at his erection, like it baffled your innocent brain was quickly sending him to the edge.

“I-is this right, Rafey?” You choke out.

“Mhmm… it feels right, ain’t it?” He groans, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss.

He starts to thrust up into your hand, soft moans and whimpers leaving him.

But what really sent him over the edge was when he saw you start to grind your clothed cunt on his thigh, completely oblivious to your own needs, distracted on helping him.

“F-fuck… keep goin’ baby, don’t stop—“

He grunts, panting as his warm seed spills all over your hand. Rafe’s head is still thrown back against his pillow, those pretty blue eyes half lidded as he stared at your face.

“You’re a good girl, baby… such a good girl f’me.”

He murmurs, pulling you forward to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

[fushitoru]

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! a nanami kento fic / drabble

cw: nanami kento x reader, a little suggestive maybe, established relationship, fluff, nanami is a green flag but he's just a man, light jealousy / posessiveness, crack, based off this (instagram link). gojo ver here

general masterlist

"Ranking types of hugs I'd be comfortable with another guy giving my girlfriend." 

Kento’s not the type to aimlessly scroll on his phone --- he prefers to be in the present, not deplete “his reserves of dopamine” too quickly, but right now he’s bored. You’ve yet to come from work---you’d texted him you were running late, buying some groceries---so Kento’s laid on the couch looking at his phone. Even though he hates using social media and the rabbit holes that result from said use, he answers your reels and TikToks religiously. After all, he values everything you have to say, even though they are a bit silly.

But just before he could respond to the baby fever videos you sent him----he does have to admit, it’s a bit cute---his screen auto scrolls onto the next piece of 30-second content, and with that, he’s hooked, observing the slots of rankings the filter auto generates for the guy on his screen.

For a bit, he multitasks on looking at the video and reading the comments, then frowns at how possessive they seem. 

catcher hug is 1000 bodies 😭😭

No one is hugging my girl

PUT EVERYTHING AT 11 CUH

a/n lmaoo these are real comments on the link above honestly i love when men are pathetic

Surely, it can’t be that bad … right?

Kento prides himself on being an emotionally mature and secure man. It’s not to say he doesn’t have his own flaws, but while it seems the rest of his gender has fallen to the gym bro gurus and alpha male podcast bros, he’s involved himself in constant communication with you and makes sure to educate himself. 

And yet. He doesn’t know he’s going to almost be on the brink of tears as he opens the filter to try it out by himself.

The filter shuffles, presenting the first option: A back hug.

Kento exhales sharply through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly. He doesn’t immediately react, but there’s a flicker of something in his gaze. He ranks it a nine.

Then, the next: A slow dance hug.

His jaw tightens. The thought of you in someone else’s arms, swaying under dim lights, your cheek resting against another man’s chest—it’s enough to make something unpleasant curl in his stomach. Ten.

The filter shuffles again. One-armed hug. He sighs through his nose, rubbing his temple. Three. Acceptable. Barely.

e waits, trying to keep his thoughts level, but when the next option rolls in, his grip on his phone tightens. A slow catcher hug.

His face is blank. He blinks once. Twice.

Then, a deep, audible sigh fills the room as he drags a hand down his face, thumb and forefinger pressing against the bridge of his nose.

The image is unwelcome, vivid—someone else catching you, your legs wrapping around their waist, the ease, the familiarity.

His phone clatters onto his chest, and he stares at the ceiling. The muscles in his jaw are taut, his lips pressed in a firm line. A moment passes. Then another.

And that’s how you find him—lying on the couch, stiff as a board, staring blankly upwards like he’s contemplating the meaning of life itself.

“Sweetheart?” you call, stepping closer. You set down your groceries, taking in his unusually tense form. He doesn’t immediately acknowledge you, just continues his thousand-yard stare.

“What’s wrong?” you press, now more concerned. “Are you feeling sick?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, still staring at the ceiling. Then, in a voice that’s a little too measured, he finally speaks.

“If another man so much as thinks about catching you in his arms, I’ll break both of them.”

You freeze. Blink.

“… What?”

Finally, he turns his head to look at you, eyes dark and serious, but there’s something almost resigned in his expression—like he knows he’s being ridiculous but can’t bring himself to care. You’re surprised at the turn of events to---it’s unlike him to be so…possessive and droopy. It’s actually really cute---he reminds you uncharacteristically of a wet, droopy dog.

“I don’t like that filter.” His voice is calm, but his fingers twitch slightly where they rest on his stomach. “I don’t like thinking about other men touching you.”

It’s so unlike him—so openly possessive—that you’re momentarily stunned into silence. Then, amusement bubbles up in your chest.

“Did you just get jealous over a TikTok filter?” you tease, stepping closer.

He exhales, slow and long, closing his eyes briefly before muttering, “I was curious. I regret it.”

You bite back a smile, reaching down to brush your fingers against his jaw. He leans into the touch, almost instinctively, before sighing again.

“You’re the only one I want to touch me, Kento.” you reassure, and his lips finally quirk at the edges—barely, but it’s there.

“I know,” he says, voice softer now. “But if I ever see a man standing with his arms open around you…” He exhales one final time, shaking his head before murmuring, “… I can fight.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before moving to put away the groceries, leaving him lying there, still brooding.

As you walk away, you hear him mutter under his breath, just loud enough to catch:

“Slow catcher hug… ridiculous.”

general masterlist

a/n first time writing for nanami kinda nervous :') i have def areas to improve upon but for the meantime pls accept this <3 thank you for the req cutie !! @girlyuuta choso ver is going to come too :3

[a-casxandra]

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞.❞ part 2

Rafayel as your actor boyfriend x you as non-mc

𝗥𝗮𝗳𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗹'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃

At first, he didn’t notice.

He came home late—again. Tossed his keys on the counter, muttering something about being exhausted. He was always tired now. It was the price of rising fame. One more photoshoot. One more scene. One more smile for the camera.

But the penthouse was too quiet.

There was no scent of your shampoo lingering in the hallway. No soft hum of your favorite playlist from the kitchen. No hoodie of yours on the couch. And worst of all—no messages waiting for him.

Not one.

He figured you were asleep. Until he walked into the bedroom and saw the closet door wide open.

Half-empty.

Drawers, too. Neatly cleaned out. Not rushed. Not angry. Just… gone. His heart skipped.

“Babe?” he called out, walking through the rooms now. Bathroom. Balcony. Nowhere. The silence was so loud it made his ears ring.

He picked up his phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Not even a "goodbye."

It hit him like a truck.

That you hadn’t yelled. That you hadn’t begged. That you hadn’t even tried to fight for him anymore.

Because you’d already fought enough.

Rafayel sat on the edge of the bed you once shared, head in his hands, guilt swallowing him whole.

He didn’t mean to forget the anniversary.

He didn’t mean to miss dinner.

He didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough.

But intent never mattered more than action.

He could still see your cake in the trash, the candles burned down to wax puddles. He remembered your text. “Where are you?”

And his heart twisted at his own response: “Don’t wait up.”

He remembered MC’s lips. The kiss that went on longer than it should have. The way her eyes glimmered, the way his chest fluttered—for a brief moment, he slipped. Confused fantasy with reality.

But now?

Now reality was an empty home. A closet missing your warmth. A toothbrush holder with only one left.

And God, how it hurt.

Rafayel tried calling. Ten times. No answer.

He messaged. Paragraphs. Then essays. Then just your name.

“Please. Come home.”

“I messed up. I know. But I love you.”

“Don’t leave me. Not like this.”

“I can fix this.”

“I choose you. I’ve always chosen you, I just—I forgot how to show it. Please let me try again.”

Nothing.

The press kept pairing him with MC.

The director asked him to ride the wave— “You guys are a hit, man. The chemistry? Off the charts. Just keep it lowkey romantic in public. It sells.”

He almost said yes.

But then he remembered your voice in his mind.

"I guess I’ll always remain a fan… someone who supports him, but never be seen by his side.” He said no.

He canceled interviews. Refused a new drama. Skipped the gala where he and MC were supposed to walk together.

He didn’t care.

He sat on the rooftop of the penthouse—your favorite spot—wondering how long he let himself drift so far from you.

He remembered how you used to wait up for him. Even when you were tired. Even when he was late.

He remembered how you’d ask, “Did you eat?” before anything else.

How you’d tuck notes into his bag before big auditions. How you’d fall asleep waiting for his calls when he was away filming.

And all he did in return… was take your love for granted.

Rafayel visited your favorite café. The owner said she hadn’t seen you.

He went to your family’s house. You weren’t there.

He scrolled through your old photos. You were smiling in every single one—with him.

God, he’d kill to see that smile again.

A month passed.

The drama ended. The ship with MC was still trending. But Rafayel stayed quiet. He never smiled in photos anymore.

𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁…

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲.

One night, Rafayel stood outside your new place.

He only found it because you slipped once—left your Spotify logged into the shared tablet. The playlist changed. The location pinged.

He debated whether to knock.

What would he even say?

"I'm sorry I made you feel like a shadow in your own relationship?"

"I'm sorry I kissed someone else and didn't even realize you were watching?"

"I'm sorry I forgot the day we promised each other forever?"

No apology would fix it. But he knocked anyway.

You opened the door, surprised. Your face was calm—too calm. You weren’t angry anymore.

That scared him most.

“Rafayel,” you said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Rafayel whispered, eyes already misting. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t see you slipping away from me. I was so caught up… chasing a life I thought I wanted, that I didn’t realize I was losing the one thing I needed.”

You didn’t speak.

“I choose you,” he said. “Not MC. Not the cameras. Not the crowd. You. I should’ve shown it more. I should’ve held your hand in public. Told the world about you. Come home on time. Loved you better.”

You looked at him then. and for a moment, he hoped. That maybe—maybe—you’d forgive him.

But you just smiled. Soft. Bittersweet.

“You should’ve,” you said. “But you didn’t.”

And you closed the door—slowly. Not angrily. Not cruelly. Just… finally.

That night, Rafayel sat on the steps outside your building.

He stayed there until sunrise.

No one came out.

And that’s when he knew—

The worst kind of heartbreak…

isn’t when someone leaves you in anger.

It’s when they leave in silence.

Because by the time you notice,

they’re already too far gone to hear you call their name.

[buckytakethewheel]

next door secrets

Summary: The walls in the Avengers tower are paper thin. So, one night, when Bucky hears you moan his name through the walls of his bedroom, things take a turn. Pairing: New Avengers!Bucky Barnes x New Avengers!Fem Reader Warnings/tags: smut; masturbation (female & male); dirty talking (mostly bucky, but very light); light swearing dual pining; unbeta'd Word count: 3.8k Notes: this idea came to me randomly yesterday and i just immediately started writing it. not sure if this is a thing people will be into, but i'm very proud of what came out 😂 for future fics, if anyone wants to be tagged, please let me know! ❤️

Tonight, Bucky can't fall asleep. No, not just tonight; it's always particularly hard for him to let himself be embraced by a night of rest, his mind constantly battling its own demons. It's a dark place in there when he closes his eyes.

He scrolls on his phone for a while, but nothing catches his eye enough to earn his full attention. Turns on the TV to watch a stupid action flick, but gets bored ten minutes in. Opens a book and tries to read, but the words melt together.

It's a fight he fights every night. And tonight, it doesn't look like he's about to win it.

When he first hears the sound that is going to keep him up a few more nights in a row, he almost ignores it, because it was probably something else. Anything else. His ears perk up but silence stretches and he figures he imagined it.

Then, he hears it again. Unmistakable, this time, slightly louder.

A moan. Clear as day, on the other side of the wall that meets his bedroom. And Bucky knows immediately who it belongs to. You. When you joined the team, you had been attributed a bedroom of your choice. Everyone had chosen theirs. Bucky though that was stupid because, truthfully, they all looked the same. You had insisted you wanted this one because the window had a good overview of the city. It does, but they all do.

Bucky doesn’t know you picked this bedroom because every morning, when you wake up, you cross paths with him when walking out and you get to see him sleepy, a little grumpy - the most domestic you've ever seen him. You're sunshine and warmth, and you give him a bright ‘good morning’ before walking away.

He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know you’re staring at him when he’s not looking, the same way he stares at you when you’re not looking.

So, tonight, he hears you moaning and Bucky's heartbeat stutters in his chest. He almost stops breathing, his hearing attuned to try and hear more of what's happening on your side, but there's another pause, another moment of silence, and then -

“Oh, yes, that feels so good.”, he hears you moan. It’s not loud. It's not obscene. It's honestly a bit sweet, even if the words come from a place of desire and pleasure. Your voice sounds like honey coated in sin, and Bucky lets out a breath.

You're with someone. Right now, in this very moment, he's listening to you having sex with someone. Someone, anyone, a body on yours, fingers grabbing and touching and driving themselves inside of you, skin on skin, lips wrapped around your pretty, delicate neck, inhaling your scent. Hearing you moan sounds like heaven on Earth, but knowing it’s for someone else is the personification of hell. Ache sipping through the walls and settling deep in his bones.

Bucky makes a low, quiet noise of disapproval and grabs his pillow, presses it hard over his head in hopes of drowning out the noise. It barely helps. Thankfully, you’re not too loud, and there’s a long period of silence where he doesn’t hear you at all, or only manages to catch a few gasps before you’re quiet again. Whoever is with you doesn’t make any noise, either. Good. There was a low chance Bucky would come out of this alive if he had to hear someone moaning for you.

The silence lasts for a couple of minutes, but then he hears it. More sounds. More moaning. He thinks he picks up on the bedframe hitting the wall once. More- “Right there, please.”, you say, and Bucky has to move the covers away from his body because he feels like he's on fire. You sound so good, the please coming out in the hottest pleading tone. Whoever is touching you knows how to do their job - or you’re good at pretending. And Bucky might be a little selfish, but he would prefer to know you’re feeling genuine pleasure. “Please, don't stop, Bucky.”

In that moment the world may as well have stopped spinning.

Bucky?

No. No, absolutely not. He heard that wrong. No way you said his name- “Bucky, oh my god, I'm gonna cum.”

Fuck.

That was definitely his name. There's no mistake, no other possibility, it couldn’t be any other word or name - and that means you're not having sex with someone else. You're alone, in your bedroom, touching yourself to the thought of him.

For a whole moment, Bucky feels like his entire body has frozen, glued to the bed, muscles stiff. He can't move, can barely grasp for air. What is he supposed to do with this? With the knowledge that you're pleasuring yourself while thinking of him? Does he walk over to your bedroom, knock on your door and consume you? Does he admit to having overhead you? It would be too embarrassing, too real. He thinks you’d hate him for it.

Bucky’s brought back from his spiraling when he hears you moan breathlessly again, a little more desperate, and the pitch of your words and curses makes it obvious that you’re cumming. By the sound of it - hard.

Seconds later, silence. And he doesn’t hear you again for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Bucky comes out of his bedroom at his usual hour, but looking even more tired than usual. Last night, he barely got any sleep. He couldn’t after he heard you like that over the walls, and the sound of his name on your lips repeated itself in his mind over and over again. Maybe he got an hour of two of sleep, at most. It doesn’t feel like he got any at all, though.

He’s closing his door and locking it when he hears another door right next to him, closing. Instantly, he knows. It’s the usual morning routine. The two of you, coming out of your bedrooms at the exact same time every morning.

“Good morning, Bucky!”, he hears your sweet voice, the same usual happy greeting. He swallows hard, unsure if he’s even capable of looking at you, but he makes an effort. When he turns his face you’re standing by the door of your bedroom, dressed in your usual workout clothes, some tight black leggings and a grey tank-top. Words escape him. The sound of you moaning last night is etched into his brain and now, looking at you, he can imagine your head thrown back, eyes half closed, fingers buried deep in your-

“Bucky-?”, you ask softly, and he realizes his thoughts had gained the best of him and he had been standing there, standing at you, frown lines in his face. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head like he’s trying to swat away the things gnawing at him.

“Good morning.”, is all he says, and he doesn’t take long to immediately disappear down the hall. This will be a long day.

**

The day goes by exactly as Bucky expected. Long. Awkward. Mind breaking.

He bumps into you way too many times. Sees you during his training session, across the gym, finds you already in the kitchen by lunch time, gets paired with you during mission debrief. For the most of it, he tries to pretend he’s fine. Nothing’s different, nothing’s changed. He is still is regular old self, grumpy, unbothered, with dry humor and a staring problem. For the most part, he seems like his usual self. Or at least, he thinks so.

He doesn’t know you notice a difference. He’s stiffer than usually is. Makes up an excuse to run when you ask him to train with you. Barely gets a word out during the mission debrief. Something’s off, you smell it on his expression, on how he avoids your gaze all day. He looks even more tired than usual. So, you figure, maybe he just had a particularly bad night. Couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares.

When you return to your bedroom tonight, you’re thinking about him again. Just like last night.

Since you first joined the team, you could never really take your eyes off of Bucky. You picked the bedroom next to his on purpose, just to make sure you would cross paths with him every morning. Sometimes you’d try to align your training hours with his so you could see him in the gym, sweat glistening down his neck and into his shirt. Despite that, you’ve been discreet - either that, or Bucky’s very naive, because he doesn’t seem to notice you watching at all.

You tried hard to ignore it, to lock away the desire burning under your skin, but every day it grew wider. Finally, last night, you gave in to your desires. Touched yourself to the memories of him, the sound of his rough voice, the way he would say your name sometimes to get your attention. And when you came around your fingers, a little loud and ashamed, the thoughts of him didn’t subside. Only grew larger.

Which is why tonight you’re already in bed again, shorts pushed to your knees and fingers sliding under the waistband of your cotton panties.

You bite down on your lip, close your eyes and he’s there immediately. Tonight, there aren’t memories of Bucky - there are fantasies. You imagine his human hand digging into your hip, pulling you close. His mouth is on your neck, kissing, biting, licking.

You circle your clit slowly, a soft gasping slipping past your lips. Your core is warm and wet just with those fantasies, but you drag it out, instead of making it quick. Your free hand cups one of your breasts over your shirt, and your nipple hardens under the cloth. Another gasp and you shift in bed, fingers dragging slowly over your folders, spreading the slick of your arousal.

In your fantasy, Bucky is moaning your name in your ear while his metal hand drags down your body. He slides one finger inside of you - your toes curl, your back arches off the bed and you slid a finger inside, soft and sweet, dragging it in and out with some kind of precision you can imagine Bucky would have, too.

“Bucky.” You gasp his name, a little louder, the imagery of him flooding your brain. “Bucky, you’re so good, you feel so good-” The words slip out of your mouth easily, almost like you can really feel his touch on your skin.

Another finger adds to the first one inside of you, and you moan and gasp and let out small curses under your breath as your fingers move faster inside of you, brushing against all the sweet spots inside of you, curling and bringing you closer to you release. Your stomach coils, muscles tensing against your pillows and you bite hard on your bottom lip, almost to the point of drawing blood - and you imagine him kissing you, raw, unfiltered, his teeth tugging your lip into his mouth as he sucked and licked and bruised.

He’s all around you, the scent of him, the blue eyes, his touch and you drop your hand from your breast to the silk sheets under you, tightening your hold on them as you cum hard around your fingers, hips bucking into your hand, finding your sweet release.

When your breathing goes back to normal and you curl your body under the sheets, you feel satisfied but not sated.

You’d need him for that.

**

Bucky heard you that night.

And the night after.

And the night after, too.

He feels like he’s one breakdown away from requesting a new bedroom, but he doesn’t know how to do that without making it weird. What excuse would he give to move?

Every night, for the past week, he’s heard you on that damn bedroom next to his. Moaning his name, gasping and whimpering sweet nothings, praise and sugar. He loves that you’re not downright dirty. You’ll let slip an occasional curse, a soft fuck under your breath, but for the most part you sound just sweet. And his heart does somersaults in his chest every time you moan his name the way you always do, like he’s the only one for you, like he’s making you feel good in a way no one has ever had. You keep repeating it, too. Like a prayer, like a mantra, as if saying his name would act like a balm on a wound.

And every morning, he has to cross his path with you when leaving his bedroom, another sleepless night, and you’re still looking like you always do. Sunshine and color, smiling brightly at him, saying your ‘good morning’.

He hates it. Hates that he’s too much a coward to confront you about it. Or too much a coward to maybe ask you on a date like he doesn’t know you touch yourself every night, and then take you home and fuck you nice and slow, like he imagines you want him to.

Tonight is just another night of hating himself. Of brooding and staying in bed awake until it’s too late, until he can already hear you in the room next door. He’s stopped trying to drown the noises and now just lets them haunt him, like a wound that refuses to heal properly. And tonight, just like the night before, the moment he hears your first gasp, his cock twitches in his boxers.

You’re probably imagining it right now. His cock hard, demanding, growing against your hips as he kissed you on the bed. And you don’t even know that, on the bedroom next door, Bucky is hard and aching for you. Tonight, he doesn’t resist.

With a sigh, he makes himself comfortable against his pillows, slides his boxers down to his calves before he opens his bedside drawer and grabs a small bottle of lube. His cock rests half- hard against his stomach and Bucky squeezes a few drops of lube along his shaft before he wraps his flesh hand around it, thick and warm.

On the other side of the wall, you moan again, a little more desperate this time. Bucky’s cock throbs in his hold and he gives it two gentle strokes before it’s already fully hard in his hand. He closes his eyes, leans back against the headboard and strokes himself lazily as he waits for another sound on your side of the wall.

He’s waiting, albeit not very patiently, and thoughts of you flood his brain. How your ass will sometimes jiggle when you’re running in the gym with particularly tight pants, your sweet, sweet smile when you see him every morning, how your small body looks so fragile and yet so strong. You’re the most amazing he’s ever met, not just physically - and that somehow turns him on even more.

“Oh, Bucky - your tongue feels so good.”, he hears you say, and he has to bite on his tongue to stop himself from groaning. You’re usually not too descriptive when you’re touching yourself, not from what he’s heard. Bucky never really knows what you’re imagining, but right now you’re talking about his tongue, and the image is quick to slide into his brain. Him, on his knees, spreading your thighs open for you as he eats you out. Slow, gentle, tongue licking long stripes over your folds. He can practically taste you on his tongue, so sweet, and the strokes on his cock grow a little harder, a little faster, with a bit more certainty. He lets out a ragged breath, perks his ears to listen for more. More.

“Please, don’t stop.”, you moan, and Bucky feels like his mind has short-circuited, because he doesn’t stop himself from replying as if he were in the same room.

“I’m not stopping, baby.”, Bucky moans back, hand tight around his cock, stroking him slow and steady. It takes a second to register that he’s said it, and his eyes fly open, hand stopping around the base of his cock, body rigid.

Fuck.

Did you hear that?

You did.

You think you might have one crazy when you hear it. Your imagination is particularly vivid today, and maybe it made up the sound of his voice way too real.

Because there’s no way Bucky actually just responded to you. You’re not being louder than you were the other nights, you know that. And that would mean he could hear you every night.

Damn it. What the hell are you supposed to do now?

There’s no other sound from the other side of the wall. Your fingers are already buried deep inside your wet pussy, curled into a sweet spot, but they’re still right now. You try to listen for noises, but there’s nothing. Just silence. So you decide to probe. Test the waters. Your heart is in your throat, and you’re not even sure if you can get the words out, but you start moving your fingers again, try to use the arousal and pleasure as fuel to your courage.

“Bucky.”, you moan his name, and it’s not as ashamed as you’ve said before. It’s a little more confident, almost like you know he’s listening on the other side. “Tell me I’m your good girl.” A pause. You’re moving your fingers slowly, steadily, in and out of your core, hand already covered in your arousal. He doesn’t say anything, but you push again. “Please. Need to hear you say it.”

And you hear him.

It’s not loud, it’s not very clear, but it’s real and a little broken. Almost a whimper.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he’s groaning your name. It sounds like a fucking dream in his mouth. “You’re my good girl, baby.”

Bucky’s not sure he’s alive right now. Maybe he died and went to heaven, because why would you be begging him to call you his good girl while you pleasured yourself?

God, he obeyed - he obeyed and followed like a lost puppy, mewling at your command. He would say anything to you if it meant hearing those pretty noises that came from your mouth, the way you moaned his name. He calls you his good girl and you’re moaning again, and it’s louder, and he knows you know he’s listening, now. Just like you are listening to him.

Bucky tightens the hold on his cock, his metal arm buried in the sheets and curling his fingers around them like he needs it to ground himself.

“Sweet little thing.”, he says, daring himself to push a little, to break into her fantasy. “You’re so beautiful. Could eat that sweet pussy for hours.”

You let out a broken gasp on the other side of the wall, and Bucky hears it. God, he practically melts when listening to it, and the pace of his hand on his cock quickens. It’s a stupid thing, that you can tear him apart just with those little noises you make. That voice that sounds like heaven but has a hint of recklessness to it. Like the devil on a leash. Well-behaved until you’re free.

“Please.”, you mumble, fingers working inside your pussy, your walls clenching around your fingers. “Wanna feel that tongue buried in me. Taste me. Make me scream your name.” You’re hyper aware of everything, trying not to lose a single sound that comes from Bucky’s bedroom. And you don’t. You don’t lose the way he groans when you say that, and he sounds strangled, like you’re stealing his oxygen.

“Sit on my face, baby.”, he says back, broken. “Fuck, I’ll be buried in that pussy until I can’t breathe.”

That gets a real reaction out of you. A whimper, louder, high, sharp, and you’re gripping the sheets under your body, hips bucking against your hand. Bucky sounds divine, so obscene and you feel wetter than you’ve ever been, white heat clouding your vision even with your eyes closed tight. The familiar tales of your orgasm creep up your body, making your muscles tense and your legs shake, and you can tell that it’s going to hit you hard and fast, like it hasn’t in a while.

“Oh, God, Bucky, I’m gonna-” A moan interrupts your words, breathing ragged, but you need to say it, need him to hear it. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum so hard for you-”

And Bucky hears it. He’s right there with you, his hand stroking his cock fast as it twitches to the sound of your voice on the bedroom next door. He hasn’t touched himself in a while, and all the pent up pressure, along with the want for you is making him see red.

“Fuck, baby-”, he moans, and then your name falls from his lips once, twice. “Cum for me. I wanna hear you, please.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to let out a whimper as your fingers buried deep in your drenched pussy make you cum hard, your body arching off the bed and legs convulsing, shaking, trapping your hand inside of you for a long time as you ride your release. And through the haze of your orgasm, you hear Bucky letting out a strained ‘fuck’ and then a ‘oh, baby, gonna cum so hard too-’ and then a groan.

Bucky’s hand stills on his cock as stripes of hot, thick cum paint his stomach and then he strokes himself lazily a couple more times before his body goes limp and he simply lays there, staring at the ceiling.

For a few moments, there’s only silence.

Then, an unmistakable giggle. Soft. Tender. Bucky feels like is heart is being ripped out of his chest. Why are you laughing?

He’s interrupted by his phone ringing, and he makes a disapproving noise before he grabs it from the nightstand and sees your name flashing on the screen. He swallows hard, then picks up, tentative.

“…Hey.”, he says, and on the other side, he can hear that giggle even clearer now.

“Hi, Buck.”, you answer, still chuckling softly. “Having a good night?”

He makes another grumpy noise. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not!”, you say, and he can practically imagine you raising your hands up in defense. “I’m serious. Did you have fun?”

Well, fuck. What is he supposed to answer that?

“… yes.”, he answers, after a pause. “Did you?”

“Do you wanna come over?”, you say, way too quickly. It’s not answer to his question, you know that. It’s something more. An extended hand. “I think I would rather start having the real you, instead of fantasies.”

Bucky doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. He almost begs you to say it again, just to confirm he heard it right. But he’s already getting up, tugging his boxers up and putting on his sweatpants.

“On my way.”, he finally answers. “Be there in 30… seconds.”

The phone call ends with another one of your chuckles. He hears it through the phone, through the walls.

And the next time he hears it, he’s standing face to face with you, before his lips finally find yours.

[pupsec]

𐔌 、sasuke　ﾉ　you find yourself paired with sasuke, whose sharingan flares uncontrollably around you 𓈒　◟

cw: sexual tension ノ mutual pining ノ Sasuke being emotionally repressed but physically reactive ノexplicit content ノdark themes ϑϱ

He noticed you before you noticed him.

The new girl—quiet, polite, always scribbling notes like the world would fall apart if you missed a single word. You sat near the back, tucked into a desk that creaked when you shifted, always careful not to take up space. You apologized when someone bumped into you. Bowed your head when spoken to.

But Sasuke had seen you.

Not just with his eyes. Not just as one more civilian girl stuck in a shinobi class. No—his body reacted first. Subtle. Wrong.

The first time you were paired together for a sparring demo, he didn’t think much of it. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his fingers, prepared to disarm and pin you like he would anyone else.

You, standing across the mat, looked like you didn’t belong. Your stance was careful but timid, knees bent, hands curled in soft fists like you weren’t sure if you should hit him even if ordered to.

And still—still—

The moment your eyes met his—

Click.

Sharingan.

He felt it burn behind his lashes. The heat curled up his spine, sharp and visceral, like his blood recognized you before his brain did. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched. He blinked once, hard, trying to suppress the activation, but the red glow remained. Spinning. Steady.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi said from the sidelines, arms crossed, voice firm. “Stand down. Eyes off.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Sasuke muttered.

He hadn’t. That was the worst part.

You hadn’t even touched him yet.

And you—gods, your eyes were wide, full of worry, not fear. “Are you okay?” you whispered, stepping back instead of forward. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He blinked.

You were worried about him?

The match was called off early.

He didn’t say a word as you bowed and shuffled back to your seat, clutching your sleeves. He didn’t even look up when Naruto made some dumb comment about “getting turned on in a fight.” He just sat in stunned silence.

Because his Sharingan had never reacted like that before.

And the second time?

It was even worse.

You were assigned to sit next to him for a paired scroll analysis—nothing physical, nothing strenuous, just reading and translating seal logic from a captured scroll. You barely said a word. You just leaned in, close, your shoulder brushing his, your hair smelling faintly of chamomile.

And again—

Click.

That soft pulse of chakra behind his eyes. The pull of it.

He swore under his breath and pressed two fingers to his temple.

“You okay?” you asked again, voice smaller than last time. “You keep… looking at me like something’s wrong.”

He looked down at you—really looked—and his chest tightened.

Because no, nothing was wrong. Nothing had ever felt so vividly right.

Too right.

He was on edge the whole time, and you noticed. You chewed your lip as you worked. Tilted your head and asked if he needed a break. Every time you leaned in to whisper something, every time your hand brushed his arm, his Sharingan flared.

He lied and said it was fatigue.

But it wasn’t.

It was you.

Kakashi cornered him after class.

“Sasuke.”

“Hm.”

“You’re too reactive.”

“I know.”

“Your Sharingan’s not just reading danger. It’s reading something else.”

Sasuke said nothing.

Kakashi's gaze sharpened. “Be careful with her.”

Sasuke didn’t argue.

Because he had been. Every time. Every class, every spar, every moment he felt you getting closer. He kept his hands to himself. He didn't say the things he wanted to say—like how the way you curled your hands in your sleeves made him ache, or how he dreamed once of your voice in his ear and woke up panting, half-hard, eyes glowing red in the dark.

He didn’t understand it. Not fully.

But his body knew.

And when you looked up at him across the classroom the next morning, lip caught between your teeth, eyes hopeful and unsure, he had to look away before the glow gave him away again.

You started noticing things, too. How Sasuke always seemed too still around you. How his hands flexed when you got too close. How his eyes flashed that eerie, beautiful red even when there was no threat, no danger—just you handing him a brush, just you brushing his sleeve by accident in the hallway, just you whispering his name when you didn’t understand something.

It happened in the training field first. You’d been partnered for drills again. The kind where one person runs through a jutsu and the other disarms. Easy enough.

Except nothing was easy with him anymore.

Because the moment he caught your wrist—just your wrist—his eyes snapped red. And you felt it like a wave, like heat straight through your gut, like a pressure point between your legs that didn’t belong to any nerve textbook.

You gasped. His grip tightened. Then he let go like you’d burned him. He turned away, silent.

But you couldn’t stop looking.

“Why does it always happen around me?” you asked him, the words tumbling out, half breathless, half desperate. “Your Sharingan. It never turns off when we’re close.”

He looked at you then, like he’d been waiting for you to ask. Like he wanted to answer.

“You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this,” he said.

And that’s how you ended up here.

In his apartment. On his bed. Stripped to your thighs, your skirt pushed up, your breath stuttering against his mouth while he laid you out beneath him like a secret he’d been aching to touch.

His eyes glowed red above you.

Spinning. Ravenous.

You moaned just looking at them.

“Does it scare you?” he murmured, his voice low, brushing against your lips.

You shook your head. “No.”

“I see everything with these,” he whispered. “Every twitch. Every tremble. Every time your body begs.”

You whimpered.

He kissed you hard.

Then he dragged his hands down your sides—calloused, reverent—until they slid under your thighs and pushed them apart. You trembled beneath him, naked from the waist down now, your panties discarded somewhere on the floor, your cunt slick and throbbing in the open air.

Sasuke looked down at you like he was starving.

The Sharingan spun faster.

“You’re so wet.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“No,” he snapped. “Look at me.”

You obeyed. Eyes wide. Cheeks burning. You were already breathing too fast.

“I want to see you when you cum,” he said, voice like gravel and thunder. “I need to.”

And then he thrust inside you.

You screamed—a raw, broken sound, pleasure burning hot and deep, your walls stretching around him with sweet, aching pressure. He filled you completely, his cock thick, hot, veined, dragging against every tender place inside you that you didn’t know existed.

He growled against your neck. “So tight. So perfect.”

You clung to him, shaking. “Sasuke—fuck—it’s too much—”

“No,” he rasped, dragging his hips back and slamming in again. “It’s not enough. I’ve waited too long.”

He set a rhythm, brutal and precise—his hips snapping forward, again and again, driving into you while you sobbed his name against his jaw. His hands gripped your thighs, pinning you open. You felt exposed. Owned. The Sharingan flared brighter, and he groaned like it was feeding off you, off your pleasure, off the way your body clenched around him.

“I can see every fucking twitch,” he groaned, pounding harder. “Every time you get close. You want to cum already?”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Then cum.”

You shattered.

Your body locked up, your cunt spasming around him so hard it knocked the breath from your lungs. You screamed his name again—“Sasuke!”—while your orgasm ripped through you, pulsing hot and endless.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you, harder now, chasing his own release.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he snarled, voice raw. “Gonna cum so deep you feel it for days.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Please—please cum—”

His hips slammed forward one last time—and he groaned loud and low as he came, cock twitching deep in your soaked, spasming cunt, hot cum spilling inside you, leaking down your thighs. His Sharingan flickered, glowing blinding for a moment as he groaned your name like it was a prayer.

And then he collapsed over you, breathing ragged.

You were still shaking. Still full.

Still glowing from the inside out.

And when he finally lifted his head, his eyes were dark again.

But he was still watching you like he’d never seen anything more dangerous—or more precious—in his life.