feveredvisions

[feveredvisions]

Oh my goodness I'm all dizzy and hot 😵‍💫 it's all of my favourite things in life!

Session 3

Warnings: M/F/M threesome, aggressive sex, unprotected sex.

Words: 3659

Two weeks had passed since Elizabeth had served as the Jackson twins’ psychiatrist. She had believed that her “Jackson Complex”, a psychoanalysis she had performed on herself for having developed an intense sexual attraction for the brothers, would have faded by now. Yet, that had not been the case, and the Jackson’s boys were never far from her mind.

Although she could have easily contacted them, she was worried about one thing. Their behavior clearly proved they were impulsive. The likelihood that their infatuation with her had burned out was a high possibility. Therefore, she refrained from calling them and continued on with her life. 

On Saturday night, Elizabeth was invited to a club by her friends. She had not seen her friends for some time because she had been busy with work. So, she decided she needed a night out and relax for a change. She ordered a stone sour and loosened up for the night.

Upon finding her drink empty, she went to the bar for a refill. As she stood at the bar, listening to the heavy bass of the EDM beat in the club, she noticed a familiar face. It was Freddie Jackson. He was speaking to another man and had not yet seen her. She nibbled on her lower lip, admiring how devastatingly handsome he looked. After a moment, his eyes flickered over and caught sight of her. His eyes widened, and she shyly gave him a little wave.

As he made his way over to her, she swallowed nervously. She was a little tipsy but knew full well what kind of choices she was making. Her heartbeat quickened, and a part of her told her she wasn’t being professional, but the part that needed some stress release told her to proceed. 

“Long time no see,” Freddie said, coming up and giving her a hug. She had not expected the hug, but willingly allowed him to pull her into his arms. God, he was so strong and firm. His cologne was subtle, just a hint of teak. She could also smell peppermint, which was his vape flavor. She found herself gripping him a little too enthusiastically and was relieved when he released her from his embrace. 

“Um, so how are you?” she said shyly.

“I’ve been good,” he said, distractedly. His eyes were glued to the tight blue dress wrapped around her dainty feminine physique.

“Damn, you look good, baby,” she suddenly heard from behind her. A strong arm laced around her waist, drawing her into another firm body. She turned to see that it was Pierre. She was now smushed between the Jackson twins. Freddie at her front, casually stroking her arm as she leaned against the bar and Pierre by her side, holding her tight against him.

“Oh, hi, Pierre…um, do you two come here often?” she asked, immensely enjoying the delightful sensation of their warm bodies surrounding her.

“Yeah, our mate owns the place,” Freddie said. “You know, I don’t know what to call you, love.”

“You can call me Lizzy now, since I’m no longer your doctor,” she said. She then heard Pierre growl deeply with approval. She could feel it vibrate through his chest against her and she felt her knees steadily growing weak.

“Lizzy, damn, that’s fucking hot,” Pierre said.

She blushed and tried to change the subject. “So, have you boys been behaving?” Both men chuckled and edged in closer. 

“Now what fun is behaving?” Freddie purred. 

“I think you’d prefer us when we’re being bad,” Pierre said, moving behind her and learning on the bar to order a drink. His movement placed him firmly behind her, his crotch brushing over her bottom. Freddie was only inches in front of her, close and personal as he continued caressing her arm. 

“I’d prefer you not in prison,” she said. Again the brothers laughed. Then she watched as Freddie pulled out a plastic bag with a slip of paper inside. Little hearts were printed on perforated tiny squares. 

“You wanna get high, Lizzy?” Freddie asked. 

She nibbled on her lower lip nervously. Pierre then brushed her long black hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck to him. She found herself leaning back into him, inviting him to brush his lips over her skin, causing her to shiver with desire. 

“That’s right, you want some thug dick don’t you, baby,” Pierre said, his voice deep and intoxicating. 

Over the next thirty minutes, she wasn’t entirely sure how they got back to her flat. Nonetheless, as soon as she closed the door and locked it, Freddie pulled her into his arms and began kissing her passionately. From behind, Pierre had unzipped her dress and he wiggled the fabric off her frame as Freddie shoved his glorious tongue in her hungry mouth.

Pierre’s strong hands began caressing the outline of her curves, kissing her neck and shoulders. She was firmly squished between the men, their erections applying a delicious pressure over her mound and ass.

Her cunt was spazzing and contracting, desperate to be filled. Freddie then released her, pulling the plastic bag out of his jacket pocket once more. He tore off the first tab, handing it to Pierre who placed it on his tongue and immediately returned to sucking and nipping at Elizabeth’s neck. His hands traveled up to her breasts, kneading them and teasing her nipples. 

She gasped and whined as Pierre crushed her delicate buds between his fingers. She watched through hooded eyes as Freddie tore the second tab off and placed it on his own tongue. Then he tore off the third piece and looked her deep in the eyes. 

“Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue,” he said, seductively.

Elizabeth obeyed and Freddie placed the tab on the tip of her tongue. 

“Good girl,” Freddie said, praising her. 

“You gonna do as you’re told, like a good bitch, yeah?” Pierre said, growling in her ear.

Elizabeth had a submissive and a praise kink, so they were checking all the right boxes for her. 

“Yes, I’ll be a good girl,” she whispered. 

She was down to her bra and panties, while the boys were still fully dressed. She felt vulnerable, and it made her horny as hell. 

“Oie, bruv, how you wanna do this?” Freddie said, removing his jacket and tossing it on the sofa.

Pierre was distracted, nuzzling his mouth into Elizabeth’s neck and reaching down into her panties and skimming over her clit. He dragged his teeth over her shoulder and bit down. It was a gentle bite, his teeth slowly sinking down, savoring her skin. As he did this, he massaged her clit, flooding Elizabeth with delicious pain and pleasure.

“Oie, Perry, don’t be a muppet. Get the fuck undressed,” Freddie said, fully naked now. He carefully extracted Elizabeth out of Pierrie’s arms and into his own. 

“Fine, but don’t start without me,” Pierre said, trying to get out of his clothes as quickly as possible. 

“Yeah, like that will happen,” Freddie muttered, pulling Elizabeth. “Where’s your bedroom, love?”

Elizabeth instructed him to the bedroom and once inside, he maneuvered her over to the bed. He pulled her close and unhooked her bra. Pierre had already pulled the fabric over her tits, but Freddie completely removed the garment from her. He then cupped each tit in his hands to admire them. 

“You’ve got a gorgeous set of kittens,” he said, skimming his thumbs over her nipples.

Elizabeth sighed pleasurably, her hands flying up to grip his forearms for balance. The drug was now kicking in, and she felt like she was floating in midair. 

“Oh, Freddie,” she moaned softly. 

He kissed her deeply and pushed her onto her back on top of the mattress. His fingers grazed her clit again and then he plunged two fingers into her entrance. Finding her satisfyingly wet, he removed his fingers and positioned his cock on her little hole. Elizabeth was ready, desperate for his cock and she widened her legs, ready for him. Freddie pushed forward, splitting open her walls and forcing a long and sensual moan from her lips. 

“Da fuck, man. I told you to wait,” Pierre said, entering the room. Freddie ignored him and continued humping Elizabeth. Pierre walked over and punched Freddie in the arm. It wasn’t terribly hard, but enough to get his brother’s attention. Freddie slowed his thrusting, glaring at his brother, his cock still buried deep into Elizabeth. 

“I thought you were gonna eat her out,” Pierre said. “If you cum in her, you’re just gonna taste yourself.”

“Yeah, I fucking know, you wanker. I wanted to get my cock wet instead,” Freddie said, his cock flexing inside of Elizabeth causing her to whimper. The men looked down on her, forgetting she was waiting for them. 

“Move her so I can fuck her mouth,” Pierre said, walking on the other side of the bed. Freddie picked her up, his cock going deeper than before into her trembling cunt and angled her so that Pierre had access to her mouth. Her light brown eyes looked up at Pierre and he stroked her cheek. 

“God damn, baby, such a sexy little mouth,” Pierre said, placing the tip of his cock over her lips. She opened her mouth and licked the head of his cock, causing him to moan. 

“Mate, put it in her mouth already, I’m getting blue balls over here,” Freddie gruffed, holding onto her hips, eager to return to railing her. 

“Open up, baby,” Pierre said, and Elizabeth obeyed. He glided his thick cock into her mouth and then the brother’s proceeded to find a rhythm.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, taking in the combination of pain, pleasure, and the drug. She liked having her cunt packed tightly, almost bursting at the seams. And she liked having her mouth forced open, filled up with a warm pulsating dick. She felt her nipples tingle from just being exposed in front of the brothers as they fucked her in unison. 

“You gonna cum, bruv?” Pierre asked, staring at Elizabeth’s bouncing breasts as they fucked her. 

“If you keep talking, I won’t. But yeah, I’m gonna creampie her pretty cunt,” Freddie said. 

“Aight, then I’m gonna too,” Pierre said. 

With that both brothers picked up the speed and in a matter of moments Elizabeth felt hot fluid gushing down her throat and rushing between her legs. She guzzled on Pierre’s cock greedily as Freddie exploded between her legs. Then she felt both men grow limp and extract themselves from her holes. Elizabeth laid looking up at the ceiling, watching the dark shadows sway and shift into blues and greens as the drug crept through her neurons. She then sat up and rubbed her jaw. 

“You don’t suck cock too often, do you, Lizzy?” Pierre said, chuckling. 

She looked up at him sleepily, drunk on cum and LSD. “Oh, well…to be honest, I haven’t had sex in a year.”

“What?” the brothers said in unison. 

“A fucking year? You trying to become a nun?” Freddie asked. 

“Then we gotta make up for lost time,” Pierre said, taking her by the arm and shoving his tongue into her mouth. Then he looked into her eyes and grinned. “You wanna cum, baby?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She was aching terribly for an orgasm. 

“Well, I’m not gonna eat your cunny,” Pierre said, looking over at Freddie. “I told you not to cum in her, now all we’ll taste is your load.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Freddie said, waving his brother off. “Lizzy, you got a vibrator around here?”

“Um, the lower right dresser drawer,” she said, pointing over at an oak dresser. Freddie walked over to it and rummaged around until he pulled out the device. Freddie brought it back over along with a pair of black nylon panty hose. He tossed the hose over to Pierre. 

“You’re better with the knots, tie her up,” Freddie told Pierre.

Pierre grabbed Elizabeth's waist, drawing her close and licking her neck. “Time to really play, baby.” 

He then pushed her down on her stomach, getting behind her and tying the nylon around her wrists and ankles. When he was done, she was hogtied, with her legs parted enough for penetration.

“God, you’ve got a great ass,” Pierre said, smoothing his hands over her bottom. Then he spanked her. Elizabeth gasped and arched her back in surprise. He proceeded to give her a few more sharp slaps, and the brothers watched as her bottom bloomed with red blotches upon impact. Pierre then bent over her and bit into her right ass cheek. 

Elizabeth felt a wave of ecstasy streak into her pussy, a soft ebb of pleasure and pain snaking between her legs. She now had a bite mark on her shoulder and ass. Freddie walked over and she felt him stuff his fingers into her cunt, swirling them around and pulling out her honey. He glided his fingers over her star, lubricating it with her own wetness. He tested the lube by inserting one finger, opening her star just slightly. 

“Oh!” Elizabeth gasped. 

“My cock’s gonna be bigger than that,” Pierre said, chuckling. 

“Gonna shove this up your ass. Get you nice and open for a good double stuffing when we get back,” Freddie said, placing the vibrator at her back entrance and gliding into her. Her face was facing outwards, resting on her right cheek. She moaned as the vibrator opened her hole. Freddie twisted the vibrator slowly and once entirely inside her ass, he switched it on medium. A dull hum filled the room and the pulsating device radiated throughout her ass, vibrating into her cunt. 

She bucked her hips and started grinding the mattress, her clit demanding release. Freddie licked his fingers, then went between her legs, finding her clit, only placing a fingertip over it. He felt it twitch under his touch and he grinned. 

“Yeah, your little button is swollen, too bad you’re not allowed to cum yet,” Freddie said, removing his finger. Elizabeth let out a long whine and wiggled her hips.

“Come on, let’s get something to drink,” Freddie said, turning and leaving the room to the kitchen. 

“Pierre!” Elizabeth moaned, before he left the room. He stopped, walked back over to her and placed a hand over her thigh, squeezing tight. 

“Take it like a good slut. You sat across from me for weeks, making me so fucking randy it hurt. Not once did you let me see that sweet pussy. This is your punishment for teasing us,” he said, then slapped her ass hard. 

Elizabeth laid there while the brothers found some bottle water and began refueling themselves. 

“Don’t mark her up too much,” Freddie said, taking a long drink.

“Why not? Bitch likes it,” Pierre said. 

“Yeah, well, she did help us get out of prison, don’t do something that will make her change her mind,” Freddie said, finishing the water and tossing the bottle in the trash. 

“I wanna fuck her ass,” Pierre said, ignoring his brother. 

“Fine, but don’t fucking hurt her too badly. You get rough. You heard her, she hasn’t fucked in a year,” Freddie said, turning to head back to the bedroom. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt her,” Pierre said, rolling his eyes as he followed his brother back to the bedroom. 

As they entered the room they saw Elizabeth squirming on the bed, tears in her eyes, her body craving for a release that was close, but did not come. 

“Fuck, she looks so god damn hot,” Pierre said, feeling himself slowly growing erect. 

Freddie walked over and removed the vibrator from her ass. He undid the knots and brought her up into his arms. She looked away from him, her silent tears falling down her face. Freddie turned her face to him and he wiped the tears from each cheek.

“You okay?” he asked. 

She nodded. The tears were just from the over stimulation, she wasn’t in terrible pain, but the want for an orgasm had caused her legs to tremble. 

“Hmmmm, you wanna cum, don’t you?” Freddie said and kissed her cheek. 

“Yes,” she said, softly. 

“Eat her cunt. I’m not gonna do it since you fucking creampied her,” Pierre said. 

Freddie held Elizabeth in his arms, ignoring his brother. “You want your cunny eaten?” Freddie said against her ear, giving her tender kisses. Pierre rolled his eyes. Although Freddie was rough, he seemed to have become taken with Elizabeth. 

Pierre had enough of the fluffy moment, he went over and pulled Elizabeth out of Freddie's arms. He too had to admit he had grown to like the sexy psychiatrist, but he was now hard as a rock and wanted to fuck. He placed her in his lap and hooked his legs beneath hers, spreading her wide open. 

Elizabeth could feel her cunt spaz and her clit quake as he exposed her to the room. Freddie came around and knelt down between her legs. 

“Just make sure your fucking cock doesn’t slip down, or I’ll break open your lip,” Freddie said right before he buried his face into her cunt. 

Pierre began teasing her nipples as Freddie licked her clit. He gently crushed her buds and breathed heavily in her ear. The combination of the simultaneous nipple play and clit stimulation sent her over the edge quicker than they had expected. Freddie felt her gush over his mouth and Pierre watched her come undone as she leaned back into him and orgasmed loudly. 

“Fuck, look at you, missy…yeah, cum until you cry,” Pierre growled into her ear, stilling pinching her delicate nipples. 

Once she came down, the brothers easily handled her boneless body for their second round. Freddie sat in the center of the bed, dragging Elizabeth over to him. Pierre grabbed her hips, as Freddie held the base of his own cock. Pierre then guided Elizabeth downwards onto Freddie’s erection. She placed her hands on Freddie’s shoulders and arched her back to allow Pierre to enter her from behind. 

Freddie’s thick cock once again stretched her open and then she felt Pierre’s doing the same as he pushed upwards into her star. Once both men were inside her, she certainly felt double stuffed. This time Pierre was in control of the rhythm. As he pushed up into her ass, the force pulled her off Freddie’s cock. Then as he pulled out, the force sent her back down onto Freddie’s cock.

“God damn it, you’re so tight, baby,” Pierre whispered behind her. Her eyes were hooded as she looked down on Freddie, her hands planted on his chest. He was beginning to perspire, the film of sweat glistening over his skin. Pierre was sweating as well, his body plastered to Elizabeth from behind.

“I’m a naughty girl,” Elizabeth suddenly gasped, thinking that this whole thing was wrong, but enjoying it thoroughly. 

“Yeah, you are. You wanted this from day one, didn’t you? I should have bent you over that desk and gave it to you then and there, bitch.” Pierre said. 

“Oh, Daddy,” she cried as he buried his cock deeper into his ass. 

The rhythm was relatively slow and gentle. She closed her eyes and allowed the boys to handle her as they pleased. For several blissful minutes, she was queen, and they gave her the royal treatment. That was until Freddie started to whine.

“Fuck, Pierre, I’m not gonna cum this way. Fucking get off and let me rail her cunny solo,” Freddie said.

“Shut it, bruv, let me play with her a little, then I’ll creampie her ass,” Pierre said, annoyed. Then he returned his attention to Elizabeth and squeezed her tits hard in his large hands. 

“Tell me what a naughty slut you are, Lizzy,” he said, purring into her ear. 

“I’m so naughty. I wanted this all along. Looking at you and Freddie, I knew I wanted to be your fuck toy,” she gasped. 

“Fucking hell, that’s hot,” Freddie said, bucking his hips, desperate to milk himself with her cunt, but not getting quite the satisfaction because Pierre was in control of the rhythm. 

“Pierre, I’m gonna fucking kill you, get on with it!” Freddie said, angrily, in dire need of ejaculating. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Pierre said, closing his eyes and focusing on fucking her ass. He thrusted until he was close, then he exploded inside her with a long, deep moan. He held tight to her breasts as he came, his sounds of pleasures pouring out as he nuzzled her neck. She was certain she’d have bruise marks on her tits in the shape of hand prints, while the same would be said for her hips as Freddie gripped her tight with frustration. 

Once Pierre pulled out of her, she found herself on her back as Freddie pounded her cunt into oblivion. He brought her legs up over his shoulders and railed her into the mattress. Freddie growled as he fucked her, his eyes closed tight and his brow furrowed in concentration. He was chasing his orgasm and once he found it he groaned and growled again, releasing his load deep into her womb. 

After that, the three were spent. The drug and alcohol took hold and Elizabeth fell asleep between the two men. 

The next morning, the sunlight crept through the blinds. She woke up in Freddie’s arms with Pierre splayed on his back next to her, snoring softly. She peeked over Freddie’s body to check the analog clock. It read 11:30 a.m. It was late in the morning, but she felt so tired she just nuzzled back into Freddie’s arms. 

She’d think of the consequences of her actions later over a large cup of coffee. But at this moment, she had no regrets. 

[feveredvisions]

Ugh I just love it when he wears a fitted tshirt and the arm part just wraps perfectly around his biceps wtf lemme have a bite, kind sir

🫨😵😮🫠🤩

[feveredvisions]

absolutely FERAALLL

new (old) johnny.

FINALLY A SHIRTLESS-ISH PIC AND IT IS BLURRRRRRRRRY.

his hair.

[feveredvisions]

Stopp this is HOT! Harry recording for keeps is so him 😵‍💫 and he can totally keep me for his own pleasure idc

🖤 ONE-SHOT: Wrong Car, Right Mistake 🖤

6,284 words • Harry X Reader • Smut-heavy

(Rated 🔞 — do not proceed if you fear for your soul.) MDNI

---

You’re still angry when you step outside the bar.

Not just angry ��� vibrating. Shaking. Somewhere between telling that Tinder man to shove his crystals up his arse and explaining to the bartender that “no, I don’t need to smile more.”

Your boots hit the pavement like gunshots.

You’re scrolling, thumb flying across your screen, calling the Uber you know you requested 12 minutes ago. The cold air hits your thighs. You didn’t bring a jacket — because of course, you thought the date might end warm.

It didn’t.

It ended with “I just think your energy is too intense.”

Right. Well.

He’s not wrong.

But he is a coward.

You glance up from your screen.

A black Volvo sits at the curb. Sleek. Low hum. Engine purring.

And you? Too distracted. Too pissed. Too tired.

You yank the door open and get in.

“Finally,” you mutter, not even looking at the driver. “I was about to burst into flames out there.”

Door shuts.

Engine idles.

Silence.

You look up—

—and your blood goes cold.

He is not your Uber.

He's broad.

Gloved hands on the wheel.

A faded scar just under his lip.

Tattoo on his arms.

Jaw clenched so tight you can hear the grind of his molars.

Eyes the colour of dark water — and just as cold.

He doesn’t turn to look at you.

You freeze.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

And the silence feels surgical. Like you’ve been split open in it.

“You’re not my Uber,” you say, voice small.

“No,” he says.

Fucking hell.

Even his voice is low and sharp — gravel mixed with smoke, thick East London.

You reach for the door handle—

But he clicks the lock.

Your heart skips.

“I’ll scream,” you say.

“No one’ll hear it.” he says.

“You gonna kill me?” you say.

“If I was, you’d already be dead.” he says.

You stare.

He glances over at last — slow, precise. Like he’s studying an insect. Or a bomb.

“You’ve got thirty seconds. Either get out, or stay quiet.” he says.

You blink.

You’re still not breathing.

And yet… something keeps you rooted in the seat.

“I just got off a shit date,” you blurt, because your brain is running on panic and trauma bonding. “I don’t care if you kill me. Just maybe let me finish this granola bar first.”

A pause.

Is that... is that a fucking smirk?

“What’s your name?” he mutters.

“Why? So you can put it in the paper after?” you say.

“So I know what to call you when you won’t shut up.” he says.

You stare.

He stares.

The city buzzes outside.

And still — you don’t get out.

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

20 Minutes Later

You don’t remember how it happened.

One second, you’re calling him an arsehole.

The next, he’s yanking you across the console and slamming your back against the inside of the car door.

“You don’t listen, do you?” he says.

“Not to men who don’t ask nicely.” you say and give a smirk.

“Good thing I ain’t fuckin’ nice.” he laughs.

He grabs your throat — not tight. Just there. Present. Dominant.

“Keep talkin’. I wanna see what happens when I ruin that filthy mouth.”

And then he kisses you.

No — he consumes you.

Teeth, tongue, violence.

Your hands clutch his coat.

His hands are everywhere — rough, fast, mapping you like he’s been waiting for years.

His mouth leaves yours.

Moves to your neck.

Your collarbone.

“You don’t know what you’ve stepped into, sweetheart." He grimms.

“So show me.”

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

Somewhere Private

It doesn’t take long.

A parking garage.

A half-abandoned warehouse.

You don't know anymore.

His hands dragging you from the car.

You don’t remember walking.

You just remember him.

Pushing you against a concrete wall.

Tugging your trousers down like he’s unwrapping something he’s paid for.

Kneeling without a word.

“You ever been fucked by someone who doesn’t give a shit if you cum?”

“You ever been wrong before?”

He growls.

“Open your legs.”

You do. Because what else is there?

His mouth is cruel.

Skilled.

Focused.

He eats you like he’s starving — but controlled. Always controlled.

When you moan, he slaps the inside of your thigh.

“Quiet.”

“Fuck you—”

Slap.

You come too fast.

Too hard.

He doesn’t let you recover.

On His Knees? That Was Just Kindness.

Now he’s got you bent over a table.

Face pressed to concrete.

Ass in the air.

Your shirt still on, but pushed up.

Your bra undone.

Your pants long gone.

He lines himself up behind you, thick and unrelenting.

You’re already wrecked.

“How deep d’you want it, girl?”

“Try me.”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

He thrusts in.

You scream.

It’s not even pleasure at first — it’s shock. Stretch. Depth.

“Jesus Christ—” you moan.

“He ain’t here, sweetheart. Just me.”

He holds your hips with both hands.

Grinds in deeper.

Slaps your ass.

Then again.

His voice is low in your ear:

“Look at you. All that mouth in the car — now you’re fuckin’ drooling on my cock.”

“You like being ruined, yeah? Bet no one's ever taken you like this.”

“Maybe I’ll keep you. Just to shut you up when I’m bored.”

You want to hate him.

You really do.

But your cunt is clenching so hard you see stars.

He doesn’t stop.

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

The Recording

At some point, he slows.

You think it’s over.

It’s not.

He reaches into his coat. Pulls out his phone.

“Don’t move.” he says.

“What?” you say, scared.

“Need somethin’ to remember you by.”

He starts recording.

One hand on your ass.

The other holding the phone steady.

“Look at that.”

“All fucked open for me. Leakin’. Drippin’.

—like you were waitin’ for someone to use you like this.”

He grunts.

“Gonna fuckin’ cum.”

You can barely breathe.

He pulls you back against him — makes you take it.

Buries his cock deep, grinds in like he wants to brand you.

“Take it, girl. That’s it. That’s fuckin’ it.”

“Gonna fill you up. Make sure it stays in.”

And he does.

You feel it.

Hot.

Endless.

He doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t let you up.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” he says, satisfied.

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

Aftermath

You’re breathless.

Face still on concrete.

Legs trembling.

He slowly zips up.

Looks down at you.

“What now?” you ask.

He lights a cigarette.

Takes one slow drag.

“You find your real Uber yet?” he asks.

You laugh.

You’re still full of him.

He checks his phone.

“Text me your name. Or don’t. I’ll remember that mouth either way.”

“This... was a mistake,” you whisper.

He nods.

“Yeah. Best one I’ve made all week.”

And then he leaves you there.

Still wet.

Still trembling.

Still ruined.

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

I know, I know, it wasn't that gooood, don't judge me, it was my first time writing Harry.

[feveredvisions]

Perfect cushion for me aching head 😵‍💫

🧸🥧

BELLY.

[feveredvisions]

Live reaction thread lol:

"Thank God his balls finally descended. (You know what I mean.)" PLS I CACKLED

Damn am I at the peak of my ovulation that I could actually taste and hear and feel drunk Eddie and his whiskey breath.

"God, you are so drunk,"… "And so in love with you, Iz." Yeah if you're gonna listen closely, you'll hear me barking rabidly, biting at my bedsheet, and bouncing in all corners of my room.

LFAAOO NOT THE SEX NOISES HAUNTING THE MANSION!!

Oh no everything's happening too well…

OH SHIT EDDIE'S PROPOSING TO IZZAAYYYYAYAYAYAYYAYY

Wow bitch you really fucked that up Eddie. I dont wanna get all superstitious so don't mind me warming up to block n fight against bad A**ie juju!!

"Last time I'll be sucking my boyfriend's cock," I've never 'aww'-ed so aggressively in my life until you wrote this line <3

FUCK AAWWFF MY FAV BITCHES ARE MARRIED!! MR & MRS BROCK!! OH I CAN NOW FINALLY REST IN PEACE <3

THE PHOTOS AWWWIIEEE THEY FUCKING MADE ITTT OMFG I CANT BE CRYING RN I JUST DID MY SKINCARE!!

HOE @followsfrankiep I don't even know where to start. I was smiling all the waaayyy from beginning to end of this Finale. Just a teensy tiny bit of a heart failure from the airport scene but all's well that ends well (to end up with you eheheh). This entire series was a crazy ride and I'm so glad I got to experience all parts of it. It's one of my comfort fics. Thank you so much for bringing their story to life. It's an absolute honour to witness their rambunctious journey. Cant believe I've developed quite an attachment for a fic but here I am.

EDDIE AND ISOBEL FOREVERRR!!

Don't Worry About Her (Eddie Brock x Reader)

PART 10 - Only Fools Rush In (FINALE)

Summary: They always say, when a guy tells you not to worry about his girl best friend, you probably should. Izzy's wild and free-spirited nature has always contrasted with her best friend Eddie's quest for stability. Now that Eddie is engaged, he never expected Izzy to complicate things for both of them.

TW: Smut, creampie, oral sex, LOTS of making out, hand job, P in V, money talks, Explicit Words, Minors DNI. I removed the cheating tag BECUZZZZ YAY!

Word count: 10.6k (IT'S THE LAST ONE WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO)

A/N: ::::::(((((((((((( last part of our babies. I hope you enjoyed the ride. I had a hard time finishing this because a part of me did not want this to end. MOMMA'S GOT A BAD CASE OF SEPANX. I love these two so so so muchhhhhhh aaaaaaaHhhhhhh!!!

Anyway, enjoy. 😭❤️ Thank you thank you thank you for keeping up with EZZY and for loving them as much as I did.

No pressure tag 💕 @jelly-rei @potter-solomons @feveredvisions @tickettride @rach5ive @lovebydaylite @dreamygirli3

Previous Part

Eddie Brock spent many years wondering how his life would be if he had the balls to admit that he's always been whipped for Izzy Knight. How easy things could've been if he was already with the person who knew his 'icks' even before he could face them on his own.

Imagine: no years spent figuring out their compatibility, no pretending to be someone he wasn't because she knew who he truly is, and she understood the traumatized and complicated versions of him.

Or how it must've felt to be loved by her every single day without any set backs or love disguised as convenient friendship.

Thank God his balls finally descended. (You know what I mean.)

"Daddy, no." Izzy shook her head in defiance.

One week into living together. The Knights are seated at the dining table having her mom's pot roast for dinner. It was a normal family time with her mom putting extra servings on her favorite child, which obviously isn't Izzy, until her dad decided it was time to size up Eddie Brock. That meant an endless flow of whiskey over the well-prepared "how serious are you about my daughter?" talk.

And yes. Eddie is officially a tenant in the mansion. A fact that Izzy was still unsure whether she liked or not, considering he's been earning her mom's good graces even more. Mrs. Knight even woke Eddie up earlier that Sunday morning to drive her to the market while he was still naked and tangled up with her daughter under a thick and comfy blanket.

A sight that became tonight's dinner topic, which led them to this point.

"Izzy, it's fine," Eddie calmly said after wiping his face with a napkin, unaware of the upcoming punishment he'd endure later on.

"How many of my previous boyfriends have you actually had the talk with, and how many of them came home the same?!"

"Don't be so dramatic, Isobel. Those boys did not stand a chance for a reason."

Mrs. Knight casually placed a freshly baked peach cobbler on the table and already scooped out a hefty serving for Eddie like it was just another normal time that husband and daughter were having another one of their showdowns.

"Eat lots, son. You're going to need it." her mom gave Eddie a smile and gave him a soft tap at the back.

Drinks poured. Words exchanged. Promises made.

Later that night, Eddie wobbled his way up to Izzy’s room. Her dad was a seasoned drinker, but he had an edge from having watched some of her former boyfriends succumb horribly to the challenge. Her eyes were already closed, facing the wall and clutching her pillows, when she heard him huffing deeply, his clothes rustling against his body.

As expected, he was drunk and there was no one to blame but her dad.

The mattress dipped, and then she felt his arms wrap around her waist as he slid in beside her, slipping under the covers. He pressed a few warm kisses to her bare shoulders before gently coaxing her to face him. His entire face was flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and smile slow looking like a man willingly tortured.

"I see you survived." Izzy murmured, placing her hand on his biceps, squeezing it lightly.

Eddie leaned in to kiss her, his breath warm against her lips, the taste of whiskey lingering as his tongue slid against hers. She tightened her grip on his biceps when he deepened the kiss and pulled her closer, groaning into her mouth—a sound that made Izzy smirk, even as he pressed into her like he had something to prove. His hands were heavy and slowly dragging down her back, sliding inside the hem of her pajama shorts and lace panties then gripping at her ass cheeks like he owned it.

"Baby," he murmured between kisses, his voice already drunk and thick. "Your dad's trying to kill me."

She laughed, threading her fingers through his hair and giving it a gentle tug, watching his eyes flutter shut for a fleeting second before locking back onto hers.

"He’s testing you." pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw. "You already live here, Brock. Throughout the years, you already proved yourself to be more than suitable for his daughter."

Eddie groaned again, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he exhaled deeply, his grip tightening against her skin, pulling a soft whimper from her lips.

"Yeah? How about I prove it another way, baby?" His lips dragged lazily against her skin, his words a low hum that made her stomach flip.

Ah, the breeding talk. The once-shy, sweet-natured boy had become surprisingly vocal about it since they started dating. Honestly, she still wasn’t sure if he genuinely wanted to knock her up or if he just lived for the look she gave him every time which was equal parts disbelief and murder. Either way, the answer hadn’t changed. She was still on birth control.

Izzy snorted, pulling back slightly, her fingers still tangled in his hair. "Don't say things you'll regret in the morning, big guy," she teased, grinning. "And I doubt we are capable of raising what you just suggested to prove right now."

He huffed, shaking his head and moving his hands up in her waist again, dragging his lips against the curve of her neck. "Mmm. I'm merely putting it out there, baby. Besides, what’s a drunk evening with your dad gonna cost me?"

She scoffed. "You? A hangover. Me? Babysitting. Trust me, I do not wish to take care of babies nor a grown man."

He chuckled. "That's nothing." his smirk deepening, drunken haze softening every word like confession felt easier now. "I mean, I get you at the end of it."

"Waking up next to you. Coming home to you. You curled up in my arms at the end of every fucking day." he continued.

His croaky and drunk voice made her snicker. She pressed a slow kiss against his temple, settling against his chest like she wasn’t going anywhere either.

"God, you are so drunk," she muttered.

"And so in love with you, Iz."

Every day, without fail, he tells her how much he loves her as if he was making up for the years he carried this unresolved feelings and not being able to tell her just how much she meant to him.

It took about a week for Izzy’s parents to adjust to the new normal: their daughter and her longtime best friend-now-boyfriend acting like they were the only two people in existing inside the house. At first, the reactions were nothing short of cinematic horror. Her mom nearly dropped a plate when she caught Izzy stealing a kiss in the hallway, complete with dramatic gasping and whispered prayers. Her dad, on the other hand, stared like he was watching a slow-motion car crash and was physically incapable of looking away. By Friday, Izzy and her dad sat down for what could only be described as a “boundaries and what’s left of your father’s sanity” talk. Izzy, naturally, nodded solemnly… then ignored about 70% of it.

Eventually, her parents resigned themselves to survival. Meanwhile, Eddie had entered a quiet phase of acceptance, in which he simply pretended not to notice her mom’s exhausted sighs or the way her dad’s soul visibly left his body every time Izzy straddled Eddie’s lap in the living room like it was a recliner that kissed back.

He smiled. He nodded. He apologized with his eyes. Izzy? She kissed her boyfriend in front of her dad just to watch the vein in his temple twitch.

They lived in the mansion for the first seven months of their relationship. It was a mutual decision and here's why:

For the first three months,

Everything that was hers inside that house became his as well, including her parents. Eddie still worked, his show thriving and securing a prime-time slot on one of the largest networks. The news of his and Anne’s broken engagement shocked most people. However, those closest to them—family, close friends, and even some figures from their past—were not surprised when he got together with Izzy so quickly.

Financially, Eddie took responsibility for every expense tied to his failed engagement. It was almost ironic that from the very beginning of their relationship, they had already found themselves having this difficult conversation as a couple. It happened the moment he had just arrived home from work.

He tossed his shirt onto the chair, changing into his pajamas before climbing into bed beside Izzy, who was stretched out, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone.

"Baby," he muttered, settling against the pillows, "We need to rethink how we handle money for the next few months."

She locked her screen, turning onto her side to face him. "Because of the engagement stuff?"

"Yeah. I covered everything. Venue deposits, catering, all the pre-wedding expenses. Thousands just—gone." He ran his fingers through his hair. "And it’s not that we’re drowning, but it did set us back. I wanted to get us a new place but I can't... for now."

Izzy studied him for a moment, then reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "I do have money, you know. I could just... help."

"Not happening." he snorted.

"Why?"

He turned his head toward her. "Because I take care of us. I don’t need your dad’s trust fund to bail me out."

She stared at him for another moment, then shifted closer. It meant Eddie working twice as hard, staying at the office for overtime, and taking on more cases than he usually did. Basically drowning himself in work, which was an idea Izzy hated.

She loved and understood him, but they didn’t always see eye to eye.

So she sat up, crossing her arms. "Edward, my love, let’s explore this properly."

He already knew she was about to make a point just by calling him with his government name.

“You’ll drown in work, come home exhausted, and I’ll barely see you. Then what? We just… exist around each other?” She raised her brows at him, then continued, “If I offered to help, to make this easier, would you actually consider it? Or would you refuse out of pure stubbornness?”

"I already told you. I don’t need—"

"You don’t need saving, yeah, I got that speech." She cut him off. "But do you need to punish yourself for it?"

Izzy’s coming from a place of security, but also a kind of emotional generosity. To her, it’s about partnership. She sees no shame in sharing what she has because she’s already all-in. Neither one of them was wrong. They’re just speaking different emotional languages.

"We’re supposed to do this together, Brock."

"I know, baby. It’s not forever." He sat up beside her, rubbing his hand gently along her tense back. "I need you to understand where I’m coming from. I put myself in this mess, I need to get out of it."

She opened her mouth, ready to reason logic with him but he cut her off before she could even speak saying, "Isobel, please. Not now."

He settled it because that was the right thing to do, even if that meant he was tired all the time, but none of it compared to the feeling of coming home to the Knight's mansion, having dinner with Izzy and her parents, enjoying her mom's cooking and her dad's over the top military man lectures, and getting tackled by Izzy's endless sniff kisses whenever he walked through the door.

The next morning after that conversation, Izzy embraced him tightly before he went to work, without any cracks nor hesitations, she muttered: "We stick it out, big guy. Through the good or the bad. It's you and me."

They could always get their own place since Izzy was sitting pretty on her dad's buttload of retirement money and was more than willing to pay for that instead of funding her international voyage but Eddie insisted that he would—they just need a bit more time. A decision admired by her folks showing the way he grounded himself, how he refused to let her handle it, and somewhere along the way, the decision was made: they would stay.

At least until Eddie got his footing back.

Her parents wanted them to be there. Their daughter who barely stayed put in the mansion was terrorizing them in her own charming way on a daily basis and now, they have Eddie too.

Then came next 3-6 months which became a little too comfortable for the new couple.

The mansion, which had once been eerily quiet, was now alive with noise and color that made it feel like a real home again. Their energy seeped into every corner of the house, whether it was the way they bickered over the last slice of lasagna, Izzy pretending to be full just to see if Eddie would take it, only for him to insist on giving it to her anyway because, according to him, chivalry wasn’t dead.

Or when Eddie was scolding Izzy in the morning, taking care of her hangover after another night out with friends while she grinned through his lectures, completely unfazed. Mr. and Mrs. Knight liked him for sure.

But there was something they hadn't expected.

There were other noises.

Noises that echoed from Izzy’s bedroom.

The occasional thudding of the headboard, the unmistakable rhythmic creaking of the bed, the odd involuntary noises that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. That happened day and night, as long as Eddie Brock was home and alone with their daughter, those goddamn shameless noises refused to stop. The longer they stayed in the estate, the more unapologetic they'd become.

Like this one specific morning when his eyes slowly opened as the morning light passes through the sheer and pastel colored curtains. His body molded against the soft mattress, and his bare skin sliding against the soft sheets that felt like clouds. When he took a deep breath, the floral fragance that enveloped this room sent his heart stuttering even if its been months since he started staying there but the feeling of looking forward to waking up beside her never went away. It was not a borrowed space anymore. It was also his.

Then he felt a warm weight against him. Bare and skin to skin. They rarely slept with clothes on.

Her cheek rests against his chest, her breath slow and steady, her limbs tangled effortlessly with his. The rise and fall of her body against him is calm and familiar, after they’ve spent years wrapped up like this. Now without the pretense. This was the real deal and he has never felt more serene and in place.

His hand moves slowly and instinctively, tracing paths along her shoulder, down her arm, across the soft curve of her back, and revelently settling at her waist.

She stirred, breathing him in, and her lashes fluttering against the tattooed skin of his chest. Her hands slid against his stomach, pulling him closer.

"You have work today?" she mumbled.

"Yeah, baby."

She let out a quiet grumble, burying her face to his chest while her arms pulled him closer. "Five more minutes." she mutters, hand sliding down between his legs. "Oh good morning to you too."

Eddie groaned, tilting his head back the pillow, and bucked his hips a bit more when he felt her hands wrap around him. He knew he should be getting up and preparing for work. Izzy propped her free elbow up, watched him with her lazy morning eyes as her other hand worked him underneath the sheets.

"You are making it hard for me to say no, Iz." he breathed, meeting her gaze.

"I make everything hard, big guy." she smirked and leaned down to capture his lips. His hand slid up, cupped her jaw, keeping her there, and deepening the kiss. Her hand still working him.

This had been his type of mornings for the past few months: Izzy would either jerk him off or have her warm lips around his cock to set him for the day. One could argue that it works wonders than coffee to jumpstart his day.

He felt himself tethering on the edge of his release, he hissed, pulling away from their heated kiss. Izzy hums against his lips, a quiet, pleased sound, shifting up just slightly to chase the kiss when he starts to pull back. His cock twitched in her touch when her touch slid inside his mouth.

He breathed her in while his arm wrapped around her waist, and the other slipped in between her legs. God she was dripping wet.

"Come here." He growled against her lips, and kicked the sheets off them.

He removed her hands around his cock, guided her to slide and lay on top of him, pushing her hips down as he dabbed the tip along her wet folds agonizingly and repeatedly to lubricate his hard cock but it already felt so damn good.

"Let's take it slow today, big guy." she purred and cupped his face with one hand to kiss him again, while her other hand steered his tip towards her entrance, entering her slowly. His muscular arms wrapped around her shoulders, hands caressing her figure tenderly.

Izzy rolled her hips slowly on top of him, breaking away from their kiss to let out a moan, making Eddie grip on her ass cheek with one hand and to thrust her hips. "I still have work today, baby." he huffed. "Got those meetings this morning."

She hummed, letting Eddie set their pace, his hands guided her hips to roll faster. He wanted to take it slow. That was a new thing for them especially during Sunday mornings. Just lazy morning sex. But he was a busy working man with so much plans for the both of them.

"Hmm... fuck, Eddie." she bit her lip when he kept hitting her spot.

Her kisses became sloppy, breaking every now and then, crying out his name. Her walls clenching around him and her moans were enthralling to hear. "You want my cum, baby? Want me to fill you up?"

"Yes... fuck yes."

"Mmm.." he removed his hand from her ass cheeks and reached down to find her clit to play with his fingers, stimulating her even more. He witness her brows furrow and her mouth part. "You are so fucking beautiful, Iz." He grunted. "Fuck me. How did I get so lucky?"

Her hips continued to roll against him. "Oh god. Daddy— I'm gonna cum..."

He slapped her ass cheek so hard upon hearing that word. It was supposed to be a tender sex. Izzy just had to rewire his brain this early in the morning. The hot stinging pain of his spank mixed with him pistoning inside her harder made sent her to overdrive. "Yes— yes daddy. That's it—"

"Cum for daddy, sweetheart." He breathed while watching her sexy scrunched up face with her head tilted back against their pillow.

It did not take long and a few more kisses, loud moans, and synchronized thrust when Eddie bucked his hips deeper inside her and held her waist in place until she came with him. Her face buried against his neck while he shuddered for every release he made inside her, still thrusting every bit of it slowly.

He did not remove his cock yet. He let it stay inside her and his eyes flicked on the digital clock in the nightstand. He was going to be late yet again.

Eddie kissed her hair while Izzy was still catching her breath.

"Just stay for another five minutes, big guy. Blame it on the traffic." she mumbled against his skin, hugging him tighter.

He chuckled but did not disagree. He can barely say 'no' to an extra time with Izzy. "Alright, baby." His flaccid penis slowly slipping out of her while they cuddle for a few minutes more.

The first time Eddie caught her dad staring at him during breakfast, he nearly choked on his coffee while Izzy was having the time of her life, completely unbothered by the fact that her parents were visibly suffering from the realization that their daughter’s sex life was very much thriving.

Her dad’s grip on his coffee mug was too tight, his jaw set like he was actively restraining himself from saying something. Her mom sighed for the third time, stirring her tea like it could somehow erase even just the noises from her brain.

Eddie, desperately clinging to normalcy, cleared his throat. "Morning."

Her dad blinked at him. Then at Izzy. Then back at Eddie.

Izzy grinned, taking a sip of her juice. "Good morning, Daddy."

The Knight patriarch exhaled sharply, looking out the window like he was searching for some divine intervention. "Izzy, sweetheart. Just call me dad. No more 'Daddy' when we just overheard you call Eddie that."

Eddie choked. Izzy laughed.

Then, by the seventh month, as much as they loved staying with her parents, Eddie had financially recovered and suggested they get their own apartment—a place big enough for the both of them, where they could make all the ungodly noises they wanted.

It was located in the heart of San Francisco, downtown. A little far from her parents' place in the Marina, yet still accessible. One bedroom with a queen-sized bed (because Izzy likes her space, yet always snuggles up to Eddie). A living room. Toilet and bath. Balcony. Kitchen and dining area. His coffee nook next to her snack bar. His stack of case files and paperwork placed on her makeshift vanity table. A non-negotiable comfy couch strategically positioned in front of the TV. Potted succulents near the sink, which Eddie replaces every now and then because Izzy forgets to water them and gets upset when they die, so he buys another to replace them. A vintage vase at the center of their small dining table because Izzy loves fresh flowers. A bowl of fruit inside the fridge because she refuses to eat it unless it’s chilled enough.

Most importantly, it was near his work at the station and close to everything Izzy needed for her personal adventures.

Eddie barely slept that first night in their new place. His heart won't stop thumping like crazy just by thinking of how hard they've come. Sure, Izzy slept with him for a few nights in his dorm or in his old apartment, but this time, both their names were on the lease, their clothes were tangled together in the same overstuffed closet, her perfume clung to his jackets, his socks ended up in her drawers, and that feeling they used to chase—that home they found in borrowed spaces and makeshift mornings—had finally rooted itself in four real walls they could call their own.

She was still the same woman with an itchy feet. However, she made the conscious decision of not giving into the temptation of booking a random plane ticket outside the country and calmly settle in San Francisco for a while with Eddie. She found a way to have her adventures around the area and sleep beside him at night.

This gave Eddie some free time too. He saw the way his friends' face lit up when he finally joined them again for another boys' night out. Teasing had begun then Mark let something slip.

"Dude," he snickered, looking at Dale. "Tell him."

"Fine. We made a bet in college about when you'd finally get with Izzy."

Eddie stared, offended on principle. "You what?"

Mark raised a hand. "Listen, I said right after college. Dale said ten years because he thought you were too slow."

"Izzy's gonna kill you both if she hears this." Eddie scoffed in offense and shook his head. "She'll take me down with you two out of spite."

"Yeah, but we wanted you two to end up together so I think she'll spare us." Mark shrugged.

"We just figured we'd have to drag you kicking and screaming toward the realization." Dale added.

At least now, they were together. That counted for more than either of them could say. They’d chosen their friends carefully—kept the circle tight, warm, and mercifully free of judgment. Eddie already got more than enough of that from work, not to mention the occasional stiff smile from Anne’s well-connected acquaintances he still had to shake hands with now and then.

But all he needed was her. In their apartment.

With Eddie shirtless in sweatpants, looking like a fully domesticated greek god. Izzy wearing nothing but his college journalism tee that is too big for her frame while showing legs for days, and straddled on his lap on their beloved couch. Her lips were red, kiss-bruised, and swollen, but he’d still press his mouth to hers like it’s the first time. His hands roaming around her body, underneath his shirt, like he was physically memorizing her like his favorite gospel.

It always started quietly. Peaceful. No pressure.

The noises come whenever they cuddle, and if it slipped, it slipped. Nothing mattered. Only the way her hips moved in sync with his. His hands in her waist, both a muscle memory and devotion, claiming every stretch of her skin.

And when their breathing slowed and her forehead rested against his, all smitten as she whispered, “I told you the couch was a good investment.”

Eddie kissed her again, lovingly smiling back at her. “Worth it.”

He has never been more loved yet consistently dehydrated ever since moving into their own space.

Twelve months later.

Eddie cursed himself for being this late. The weather was weirdly pouring that day. He planned to be early and be there before Izzy arrives but apparently, the universe had other plans. He was starting to think that his karma was starting to make him pay for cheating on his ex-fiancé with his best friend.

Her arrival was around 9:30PM PDT and she made that very clear when she texted him again earlier that day: 'You better be there when I arrive because I DON'T like airline food and I will be starving. k? love u.'

Izzy was flying in from her month-long Dubai trip, which was Eddie's first anniversary gift to her. Once they officially got together and lived in her parents' mansion, she never left. For almost a year, Izzy remained in San Francisco for him.

Eddie really thought that his girlfriend, who spent years flying in and out of the country, leaving him on his own would seamlessly slip back to her old habits. She squealed and leaped when he gave her his gift. She was even cracking jokes while he was driving her to the airport.

And every five minutes, she’d poke him: “Don’t you cry, Brock.”

To which he replied, every single time: “I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being dramatic.”

Until they reached the curb at the departure bay. He got out, popped the trunk, and there it was—the waterworks.

"Oh baby." he said softly, putting down her luggage beside them, and wrapped his arms around his sobbing girlfriend.

Izzy blamed three things for her tears at the moment: First, being a newly domesticated chaos changed something within her; Second, his beautiful cock will be missed; and Third, she was not used to being away from Eddie anymore. She established her roots throughout the year of living together and sleeping beside each other every single night.

But she had to go. He wanted her to go.

He knew she missed traveling and spreading her non-existent wings, but frankly, he needed some time to orchestrate his proposal, which included asking her parents for her hand in marriage, buying a ring, and arranging the perfect setup.

Yes.

You did read that right.

The goal today was simple: finish his articles and cases, film an episode of The Brock Report, get off work early, pick Izzy up at the airport, and propose to her there.

In that short amount of time, Eddie Brock had laid out his plans perfectly. Izzy was arriving a day before their first anniversary, and he had imagined them waking up beside each other to celebrate both their engagement and the milestone. Oh dear. It had sounded so good in his head.

True to his luck, his boss had him film an additional clip to air that night regarding a corrupted budget delaying repairs on the city's sewage system. This caused him to leave work later than expected and put him in bumper-to-bumper traffic on his way to the airport. He was still a bit damp from filming under the pouring rain, even with his raincoat on. His friends, Mark and Dale, who were supposed to film and capture the moment, had canceled due to the storm.

Eddie kept telling himself it was fine. Everything would still go as planned, even if he was late and even if they had no documentation of the day. It was fine.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself—until he saw the time.

"Fucking hell. She's gonna kill me." he muttered to himself, checking the time on his watch. It was already 10:15PM. She's been waiting for about 45 minutes now.

'Landed.'

'Just getting my baggage sorted. Wait for me at the usual spot.'

'Where are you?'

'I'm here already.'

'You're not answering any of my calls and texts. Where are you?'

'I'M STARVING, BROCK.'

'Did you forget?'

'Did you really forget? Aren't you the one who bought my ticket?'

And her last message was 'Brock, I swear to God if you don't call me right now I'm gonna-'

Eddie did not finish reading that and instantly dialed her number. It did not even finish the second ring when Izzy quickly picked up the call.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" she hissed through the phone.

He rubbed his temple, gripping his phone tightly as he maneuvered through the traffic. “Baby, I’m on my way. Got held up at work, and it’s a mess out here. I just need fifteen minutes—”

On the other hand, Izzy felt her stomach growl. She was hangry. Both angry and hungry. “FIFTEEN?!” Izzy sounded personally offended, making him flinch. “Eddie—” she continued and muttered a curse underneath her breath, which he heard very clearly, and ended the call before she could say something really mean. She had to remind herself to be nice, he just paid for her vacation, and they're celebrating a milestone tomorrow.

Ha.

When Izzy abruptly ended the call, he made another sigh and threw his phone to the passenger seat. He was not having a good day, at least it would be worth it when they finally get together because-

Wait.

No...

Fuck.

His hands quickly searched his jacket's pocket both inside and outside. Frantically twisting around his seat while driving, feeling the fabric of the back and front pocket of his jeans. Nothing.

"FUCK!! Where is it?!" Eddie was starting to have a melt down. The ring was missing. Then he remembered, he left it in his desk drawer when he was going to film under the pouring rain. He did not want it to get messed up. He slumped his head back to the headrest multiple times in frustration.

None of it was working. None. His plans had gone down the drain, and now he had no ring to propose with, and Izzy was angry at him for being late. The universe really had its own way of giving him his karma, and it was a year late—just when he was about to propose to his best friend. Perfect timing.

When he saw Izzy from afar, she was seated on one of her pretty pink suitcases, clutching her stomach. His heart sank, remembering his girlfriend had stomach issues and wasn’t allowed to skip meals. He pulled up, parked his car, and quickly ran toward her, pulling her into a tight hug before she could even retaliate.

"I'm sorry. Sorry I'm late." he kissed the top of her hair, both of her cheeks, and lips. Then hugged her again tightly, "Sorry for making you wait, baby."

He felt her shoulders relax under his warm embrace and her arms circling around his waist as she nuzzled her face in his belly. "You smell like shit." she mumbled against his shirt.

He froze.

"Uh- yeah... I filmed near a sewage line earlier so..."

Izzy jerked back instantly with eyes wide in horror. She pulled out her handkerchief and started wiping her face like she's been contaminated.

"EWWWW!! You could’ve—oh, I dunno, thought of that before you smothered me with your sewage-scented hug!" she said with a revolted expression in her face which he found so endearing. She was his everything. He was seriously smitten.

And because he was annoying as hell, he pulled her again into his hug and placed a few soft kisses on her hair, saying, "Nah. I missed you too much to even think of that." he smirked, feeling her hands push him away with all her might.

He really did missed her and he's got his own messed up way of showing that.

"DEAR GOD, Eddie. I am starving and you let me sniff your ninja fucking turtle smell. OFF! GET OFF!" She said, shooing him away and making him laugh as he complied.

His stench was the whipped cream on this banana sundae kind of bad luck streak he was having. And you know that there's a cherry on top of that when they both flicked their heads towards the direction where they heard a woman squeal and the people gathered around it.

"Oh great." he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at the sight of a man getting down on one knee, holding out a velvet box to the woman in front of him. Izzy recognized that woman since she was on the same flight with her.

"Delilah, will you marry me?" the man asked.

"Yes! Yes! Of course, Lucas! I will marry you!" Delilah cried, earning cheers for the people around them as they kissed. Some people took their phones out to capture this picture perfect airline commercial-like of a proposal.

Eddie glanced at Izzy, who was completely unaware that he was supposed to propose to her at that moment as well. Her face was clearly cringing as she watched the scene unfold.

Our dear Izzy had absolutely no idea that she was meant to have that kind of moment too.

If her boyfriend hadn’t messed it up so badly.

They left, not wanting to watch any more of it—just straight to loading her luggage into his car before driving to her favorite 24-hour burger joint.

-

She was tired, and refused to speak to him (nor kiss him) the entire car ride. It was only when they sat down in a red leather booth, finally having her fill of her usual order, that she finally looked like she was in the mood to talk. She was even happy dancing while taking a sip of her chocolate milkshake. The transformation.

He gulped down his burger with his soda and asked, "What's with that face earlier?" gesturing his hands towards his face, imitating Izzy's cringing expression.

She squinted her eyes at him, thinking he was just mocking her again but then her eyes grew wide she realized he was talking about earlier at the airport.

"OOOHHHH that. Yeah. I hate proposals."

His face fell.

"What?"

Izzy held a finger in front of him while she finished munching on her fries, not caring about a damn thing in the world. Still chewing, she said, "Mmm... don't like it. Not falling for that propaganda. Wedding preparations too. Bleh."

Is it possible to sprinkle some colorful push pins onto Eddie’s bad luck sundae? Because that’s exactly what his throat feels like right now as he swallows hard, trying his best not to spill any painful emotions to the oblivious woman in front of him.

Eddie Brock had a carefully crafted plan, even if it was completely messed up from start to finish. Still, he had thought about it from the moment they finally got together.

The hours he spent researching and choosing the perfect ring, asking her parents—only for her to hate it?

He forced himself an awkward little giggle. "Yeah? Hate it that much, huh?"

Izzy pursed her lips and nodded slowly, as if she truly resents the idea while she takes a bite of her burger again, a mix of the meat's juices and sauces dripping down her plate. Then she continued, “I swear, Brock.” She exhaled, shaking her head dramatically. “I could never do that Pinterest-perfect wedding Anne did. I didn’t even wanna attend your engagement party back then.”

Eddie exhaled slowly through his exaggeratedly flared nose, keeping his smile glued in place.

She casually took another bite of her burger and continued with her mouth full, voice loud, shameless as ever.

“I just went and jacked you off, then got out.”

She is not even lowering her voice, purposely speaking louder because her mouth is full of burger. God, she is shameless. He quickly looks around, scanning the place, relieved that there aren’t many people around to hear her. His ears burn instantly, and his stomach drops as his brain flashes back to how her hands worked him like magic under the table.

At the time, he had no idea that in a few months, he would end up calling off that engagement because of the woman giving him a hand job that night.

He scratches his head, struggling to find the right words to say. Seriously, it’s like a huge, repeating slap to his face just listening to Izzy right now. With a deep breath and another forced smile, he asked, "Well have you even considered marrying at all?"

Izzy halted a bite to her burger, looking at him skeptically before slowly placing it down. "What kind of question is that? Obviously, I'd like to get married one day. I just don't like the hassle of the events normal couples had to go through before the actual ceremony. Just get married. That's it."

A notification popped up on his phone, which was strategically placed on his thigh. It was her mom asking if he had proposed yet and what had happened. Eddie desperately brushed the thought off because there was no goddamn proposal happening on his end, and that was far from reality. He wanted to type back that her daughter had just told him she hated proposals. Instead, Eddie kept himself focused on their conversation.

The remains of his burger were long forgotten on his plate. He had lost his appetite while the woman in front of him was about to finish hers.

As painful as it was, he knew her. Izzy wasn’t the type to fuss over floral arrangements or the perfect wedding theme. She was not Anne, who would make him wear an expensive tuxedo—one that was now tucked somewhere in Izzy’s closet—nor would she eat pretentious servings at a grand plaza reception.

That wasn’t her thing.

He swiped his tongue briefly to his lips and asked, "What's your ideal wedding then?"

Her nose scrunched up at his question as she thought hard about her answer, then nodded. She had something in mind but decided to finish her burger and fries first, take another sip of her milkshake, then a content burp before finally answering him.

"Shotgun wedding in Vegas. Burgers and Fries after. Just like this." she even shrugged when she answered.

His jaw dropped.

Just because...

That was so her.

Spontaneous. Fuss-free. Jump right into it.

Izzy didn’t even have to think hard about her answer. She just brushed it off, like someone had asked her how she wanted her eggs cooked that morning. It sat so effortlessly on the top of her mind, as if it had always been there, waiting to be said.

He blinked twice, struggling to find an answer.

"You okay?" she asked.

He looked at her again, cleared his throat and nodded. “Yea—yeah. I just—uh… Can we swing by my office before we head home? I forgot something important.”

She shrugged, not really caring whether they stop by or not. "For a sharp journalist, you sure forget a lot of things, big guy."

Eddie rolled his eyes.

-

The ring was exactly where he had left it.

Eddie pulled open his desk drawer, his fingers brushing against the velvet box with a quiet exhale. At least something tonight had gone according to plan. He changed his clothes while he was there too—mostly because Izzy had spent the entire car ride complaining that his scent was making her nauseous.

In her words: "Seriously, Brock. I almost threw up my milkshake. Fix it."

This was the same woman who had insisted on waiting for him inside the car while she took a nap. It was 11:30 PM when he opened the car door, waking her up with a gentle shake, telling her they’d leave the car there.

"What now?" She groaned.

"We're going somewhere, baby."

Izzy deadpanned him for a minute but got out of his car. Eddie loaded her luggage into the back of the Uber he had booked for them while she barely looked around, too tired to care, and resumed her nap in the backseat. Eddie slid in beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she instinctively leaned against him.

It was hard dodging her questions about his plans and where they were going when she was awake. He got a moment of silence while Izzy was napping against him, so he took the chance to sneak in a message to her mom, telling her that he did not propose and that there had been a change of plans.

By 11:55 PM, their Uber arrived at their destination.

When Izzy got out of the car, half-conscious, she rubbed her eyes and looked at Eddie, then at the entrance of the place, then back at him. "Are you sure you pinned the right place?" she asked.

Eddie kept checking his watch, waiting for their Cinderella moment as the clock struck 12 while they walked. Her arms were looped around his while they pulled her luggage, with his duffle bag securely tucked on top of one of them.

This place was Izzy's second home.

San Francisco International Airport.

The only thing that worked in his favor today was that the arm on his watch pointed directly to the middle the moment they reached the counter. Izzy tugged at his sleeve as the realization slowly crept in. He pulled her closer, placed a quick kiss on her temple, and smiled at the ticket agent behind the desk. He handed them their passports and said:

"Two tickets to Las Vegas, please."

The agent nodded and started processing their tickets. When Eddie finally faced her again, she was watching him with an amused look.

"That's your plan? Kidnapping me and then marrying me?" she smirked, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck.

Eddie held her waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of her coat, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers.

"Happy anniversary, baby."

Izzy bit her lip and smiled.

Then, suddenly, she froze.

"Wait—Eddie." She pulled back slightly, eyebrows furrowing. "We don’t even have a ring."

A smirk tugging at his lips as he reached into his coat pocket as Izzy watched, eyes narrowing, completely suspicious, until she saw it.

The velvet box.

She blinked, staring at it, realization hitting her all at once. "You—you were going to propose," she breathed out, looking back at him with eyes wide in disbelief. "You could've just told me!"

Eddie scoffed, flipping the box open lazily, revealing the ring inside. "Nah, Iz. Not after you told me you didn’t like proposals." His smirk deepened as he held it up between them. "And I don’t see you complaining now."

Her eyes flickered to the ring, then to him, then back to the ring again.

Without any more retort, she tilted her head slightly and brushed her lips against his, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist, kissing her back—slow and lingering. She smiled into it, breath hitching, fingers tightening, holding onto him like she never wanted to let go.

Because it was Eddie Brock.

She might have made a lot of questionable decisions throughout her life, but marrying him?

That was a no-brainer.

They breathed in between the kisses but never let go. Both of them sinking deep into it, savoring this moment because everything finally fell into place. Her fingers gently grazing his nape, and her other hand threaded through his hair. Eddie growled silently against her lips, as she gently pulled away with a smug smile on her lips.

"Happy anniversary, big guy. Save some for our honeymoon, alright?" she teased, giving him another quick peck on the lips.

They hadn't booked anything fancy for their wedding flight and were more than happy to jump on the first available one, even if it meant squeezing themselves into narrow economy seats without complaint.

It was the middle of the night, the day of their first anniversary, and none of it mattered.

He had completely forgotten about the long ass night he had just been through, feeling Izzy curled into his side, her head resting against his shoulder. He adjusted his arm slightly to make sure she was comfortable.

Her fingers traced lazy patterns over the tattoos on his arm, half-conscious but still lingering in the space between wakefulness and sleep.

She tilted her face toward him, brushing her lips against his before pulling him closer, deepening their kiss. He inhaled the scent of her honeysuckle perfume mixed with the sterile airplane air. He slid his hand to her waist, pulling her just a fraction closer, his fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of her coat.

Them casually making out in economy class and the person sitting beside them was not having it.

"You taste like airport coffee," she mumbled against his lips.

"And you taste like chocolate milkshake," he said, smirking slightly.

She hummed, satisfied, and let herself drift off again, fingers still loosely curled in his shirt. Eddie exhaled, finally allowing himself to relax for the first time all day.

Everything had been a mess.

Every plan had derailed, every moment had felt out of his control.

But right now?

They were on their way to Vegas and that was all that mattered.

When they arrived in Las Vegas, Izzy instantly knew which hotel they would be staying at. She loved this place. She was used to going there for a wild night she would happily forget on her way home.

King-size bed. Spacious bedroom and living room. Jacuzzi. A huge window view of the neon lights. Plush carpets. A freaking chandelier.

Things were slowly working out.

Inside their suite, she made Eddie shower to wash away his ninja-turtle scent, or else she was going to file a health violation case against him. He complied, knowing there was no arguing with her, while Izzy dug through her suitcase, sorting through whatever she had brought back from Dubai to wear for their spontaneous Vegas wedding.

She found something. A perfect "in-case-of-party-emergencies" outfit she had tucked into her suitcase.

It was not a white dress.

She pulled out a fitted metallic gold number with thin straps, a low back, and mid-thigh length. Next came the sleek red-bottom stilettos Eddie had once bought her (on his credit card, naturally). She then reached for her signature fur coat, white with bold brown spots, effortlessly statement-making.

Turning to Eddie’s duffle, she unzipped it with zero expectations. She snorted instantly. The man packed like a journalist on the run—spare work clothes she had forced him to keep in rotation months ago because he kept coming home either sweaty or smelling like a stray dog.

"Holy hell, Brock," she muttered, pulling out the best yet barely formal black jacket she could salvage.

Black jacket. Crisp white top. Black jeans. Sneakers.

She smoothed them out over the bed with a nod, mismatched pieces coming together like they were always meant to be.

Now for a little something.

Eddie stood under the warm running shower, head tilted forward, rinsing away his shampoo. He did not realize that Izzy already stepped inside, fully naked as well, to join him until he felt her fingers trailing lightly down his spine before resting around his waist, making him tense for half a second before exhaling, shaking his head slightly.

"Should’ve seen that coming."

"You really should’ve," she murmured against his shoulder, pressing a slow and warm kiss there, breathing in the scent of fresh hotel soap from his skin.

He let out a low chuckle, finally turning to face her, hands sliding to her hips. "If this is your honeymoon preview, I think I won already." he muttered.

Izzy grinned, fingers threading into his wet hair, tugging just enough to make him tilt his chin down toward her.

"Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, Big guy."

He kissed her before she could keep talking, a slow pull of warmth between them, water streaming down their backs while his hands roam around her body. She hummed against his lips as they deepen the kiss, her hand was still gripping on his hair while the other one slid down his abdomen, her hands wrapping around his cock then pumping it with her hands. He let out a groan against her lips then she pressed another kiss to his jaw. Her lips worked her way down to his neck when he tilted his head slightly to give her more access.

"Iz—" he grunted. "Are we really gonna do this now?" Now holding her waist, not stopping whatever plan she has in mind.

It was 3 AM, and they were supposed to get married as soon as they arrived. They had barely gotten any sleep and were running on the caffeine the airline had given them.

Izzy smirked against his collarbone and said, "I won't spoil you before the wedding, big guy." trailing her kisses down to his chest, her hands still working on his cock. "But I'd like to give you a little anniversary gift..."

He leaned back against the glass panel his hips bucking towards her hands while her tongue travelled across his tight six-pack, kneeling down infront of him. She kissed the tip of his cock while stroking it then gave it a long, wet, and slow lick from the base to the tip. Her eyes flicked upwards, meeting his and she smirked.

"Last time I'll be sucking my boyfriend's cock then.."

That got him.

And that she started sucking slowly, moaning while engulfing his entire shaft, when his hand raked through her locks and pushed his cock deeper inside her mouth. She tightened her mouth, swirling her tongue, and lips sloppy wet at the same time as she took him in and out.

Because a few hours later, she would be giving head to her "husband".

-

They walked the bright streets of Las Vegas in their wedding attire, the neon lights casting a colorful glow on Izzy's bare shoulders as she clutched her fur coat. Eddie couldn't take his eyes off her.

They were both exhausted, running on minimal sleep and airline coffee, yet somehow this woman—his fiancé—looked effortlessly stunning. She embodied Vegas itself, chaotic and electric, and somehow, in this moment, he felt like he was winning at life.

"What?" she asked when she caught him staring.

"Nothing. Just thinking about how ridiculously perfect this is," he said, smiling.

Izzy abruptly stopped in front of a tacky 24/7 chapel, its sign flashing WED FAST, WED FOREVER in blinding neon letters. She wasted no time in grabbing Eddie’s hand and dragging him inside.

The place looked exactly as one would expect—less religious, more motel-like. A pink plastic and neon heart hung on the wall with the words LOVE ME HARDER glowing in the middle.

At the front desk, a bored-looking man droned through the usual speech about forms and logistics, his words rolling off his tongue as if he'd recited them a hundred times that day. He barely glanced up as he muttered, "At least you two aren’t drunk," before processing their paperwork and calling in an officiant.

Eddie and Izzy stood before the altar, facing each other with grins that bordered on disbelief. Between them stood a questionable middle-aged man, their officiant, who looked like he'd seen everything.

When the "ceremony" started, Eddie could barely heard a thing because his gaze was lost deep into Izzy's eyes who was watching him just the same. There wasn't any hint of regret nor doubt. Fully committed in this moment to tie themselves together in the word 'forever'.

The little girl with pig tails who forced him to befriend her; the teenager who made friends with everyone in high school but only kept him; the chaos in college who unknowingly broke many hearts of the women who tried to be with him; and now the woman that all became his girlfriend, fiancé, and wife within 24 hours.

The officiant continued without pause. "Do you, Edward Brock, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, through sickness and health—"

"Yeah," Eddie said instantly and without hesitation, making Izzy snort.

"Man’s eager," the officiant muttered before turning to her. "And do you, Isobel Knight, take this man—"

"Obviously," she interrupted, eyes already bent along with her smile which he loved. They said their vows everyday. They said it the moment they confessed their love.

They intend to keep their those with or without marriage but let's face it, it was always going to be them together.

"Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

There was no dramatic pause, no grandiose announcement. Just like that.

They were married.

Locked in.

"I love you, Izzy."

"I fucking love you more, Edward."

Izzy barely gave him time to process it before she grabbed the front of his jacket, yanking him into a kiss. Eddie slipped his tongue inside hers, deepening it, one hand settling at her waist, the other gently cupping her jaw. Hungry. Hot. But still in love.

Somewhere in the background, the officiant coughed. "You need the papers signed, guys."

Izzy ignored him, pulling Eddie impossibly closer.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie murmured against her lips. "We’ll get to it."

And they did. Eventually.

After they kissed a little longer.

-

Their honeymoon started the moment the officiant proclaimed them as husband and wife. Over their 'reception' at the diner, Izzy kept sliding her foot up and down his legs as they ate. Then on their way back, his hands slipped under her fur coat, gripping her back tightly, making her wince and bite her lips while looking at him. Finally, at the elevator, when it's just the two of them alone, both of their lips were swollen, hair messed up, and they were both panting by the time it dinged in their floor.

Her fur coat, his jacket, his shoes, and her heels were all found somewhere on the carpeted floor.

Izzy was not even surprised when he shoved her against the hotel room wall the moment she heard Eddie lock the door, a smug smirk on her face as she looked down at her very hungry husband. Her legs folded around his hips as her dress pooled up her thighs. He growled when his fingers felt her soaking wet folds and this whole time, his wife went commando.

"We have a bed, husband." she purred yet her hands were undoing his pants.

His mouth met hers in a fervent, deep kiss, his pants already on the floor as he kicked them aside. One of her arm anchored herself around his neck and the other one held his cock and glided his tip along her folds.

He trailed kisses on her neck, then to her shoulders, down to her collarbones. Those fucking neck kisses while pinned against the wall—Eddie was giving her the whole 'fuck me against the wall' fantasy. "Bed's too far." he mumbled against her skin, lips sucking while his teeth sinked in, leaving bruised marks on his wife's skin as if legally tying the knot was not enough to let the people know she was his.

Eddie pushed his cock inside her slick walls, making her hold unto his biceps to keep her in place while her head tilted back against the wall as he started bucking his hips.

"Fuck, Izzy." he hissed as he pulled almost all the way out then rammed inside her even deeper. He did that again, and again, slowly at first as if he wanted to savor the moment.

"Please, babe... Don't stop." she moaned.

He loved watching her melt against him—mouth parted slightly, eyes rolled back, her shoulders scraping up-down against the wall while his name breathed out of her mouth along with her whispered i love yous. He fucked her slow and deep while marveling at the fact that she was now his wife.

Eddie got what he wanted all along.

She gasped when he tugged her closer and started thrusting quicker, feeling like she was being forced to go through the wall, her hands clawing both the wallpaper and his muscular shoulder.

"Oh god, Eddie. Fuck!" she screamed, planting her cheek against the wall with her eyes closed, clenching around him as her stomach coiled.

"No, no. Look at your husband, baby." he whispered, grabbing her jaw to tilt her head back to face him. "Open your eyes, Izzy."

She obeyed, looking at him with those pleading, half-lidded eyes, breathing unevenly. Her leg twitched against his hip he continued drilling in and out of her. "Mm-hmm.. my wife's gonna fucking cum on me huh?" He took his hand away from her jaw and started rubbing her clit in repetitive circles, overstimulating her. He kissed her neck again and mumbled against her skin, "Go on then. Let it go for Daddy."

Fucking hell she did. She came hard but he was not done fucking her. He groaned, stopping briefly. Holding it in. He did not want to end it just yet, and carried her back to their king sized bed while his hard cock was still inside her.

Izzy kissed him the moment they were on the bed, fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt, taking it off him, and captured his lips again. She arched her back and begun sliding off her dress when Eddie held her hand tightly and said, "Leave it." he muttered in between their sloppy kisses. "Gonna fuck you in that fucking dress." Then he bent her knee with one hand and pumped his cock in and out of her again.

The sound of their hotel room filled with the rustling of her dress against the soft white hotel duvets along with their breathless moans. Her clit was still throbbing from her earlier release, and he was taking his sweet time fucking her. He stops every now and then when he feels himself tethering on edge then resumes thrusting again until Izzy felt her stomach coiling for the second time. "Babe come on—you feel so good." she whimpered.

Eddie leaned down to kiss her neck. "Where do you want it, baby?"

"Inside—All of it. I need you to cum with me, husband." she hissed against his ears. God, husband. The fucking word was a complete sentence in all glory. He pounded even harder as she felt another round of spasms within her walls and it broke down not long after. "Oh god, Eddie." she cried when she felt the mix of pain when he bit her shoulder and the pleasure of him unloading ropes of his hot and thick cum, filling her up. Their juices were seeping out of her cunt but he bucked his hips slowly to push all of it in.

He collapsed on top of her, kissing the spot where his crooked teeth sinked in, then kissed her lips once again softly. Her fingers threaded through his sweaty damp hair while catching their breaths.

"Can't believe you're mine now, Iz." thumb swept across the skin of her cheek delicately. “Whatever comes… whatever changes,” he said, “I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”

Izzy looked up at him, eyes warm and shining. “Yeah,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his. “Took us a while but we're here, big guy.”

He smiled while his arms wrapped around her like he never meant to let go. “I think some part of me knew,” he murmured. “Knew it’d be you and me at the finish line."

She snorted. "You manifested it, Brock."

He grinned, still half buried in the curve of her neck. “Damn right I did."

Back in San Francisco, at the Knight Mansion, her parents were up as early as 5AM the next day, waiting for Eddie's update regarding the proposal. They were sitting on the dining table, sipping their coffee, and keeping an alert mind for any notification that would pop up.

“You think she said no?” he muttered, his tone cautious. “I mean, it’s not like them to go silent. Brock would’ve called—wouldn’t he?"

Mrs. Knight shot him a sharp look, though worry flickered in her own eyes. “Don’t start with that. She wouldn't say no. She probably... forgot. Or, I don’t know, got distracted. You know how they are.”

“Distracted for this long? After he proposes? Come on.” He set his mug down a little too hard, rubbing his temples. “I swear, if that boy messed this up—”

Daddy Knight was ready to throw hands for his one and only girl until his wife's phone pinged, cutting him off mid-sentence. Both their heads snapped toward the sound. She grabbed it with trembling hands, opening an imessage:

"SURPRISE! Love, Izzy and Eddie."

When she opened it, her gasp was audible, followed by a disbelieving laugh. “Oh my goodness,” she murmured, shaking her head as a grin spread across her face. She turned the phone to her husband, who squinted through his glasses at the screen.

The first picture was of Izzy and Eddie, standing in front of a Vegas chapel with the most genuine yet crazy smile on their faces. On her finger, clear as day, was a shiny new ring.

“What the...” Her dad’s voice trailed off as he scrolled to the next photo.

This one was even better.

Izzy and Eddie were seated at a plastic table covered in grease-stained wrappers and fries, their faces lit with laughter. Izzy was holding up her fries like a trophy, while Eddie leaned over, kissing her temple, a half-eaten burger in his other hand.

The email included a simple caption: “PS: Burgers were on theme. Don’t hate us for skipping the phone call. Love you both!”

Her dad stared at the images, stunned silent for a moment, before letting out a reluctant chuckle. “Well... that’s certainly one way to do it.”

Her mom laughed, tears welling in her eyes as she swiped through the pictures again. “I told you they’d find a way to make it their own. And this—” she gestured to the screen, her voice broken with affection. “This is so them.”

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Brock better keep her happy, or he’ll have me to answer to.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” her mom said with a knowing smile. “Eddie knows how to do just that and more.”

And somewhere in a little Vegas chapel, surrounded by the glow of neon lights and the lingering scent of burgers, that was exactly what Izzy and Eddie had done. They had been crazy in love, sleep-deprived on their honeymoon, and now, officially and forever, bound together as husband and wife.

Cheers to marrying your best friend.

[feveredvisions]

WHEWW!! WHO TURNED THE HEATING UP?! Got me soaked asf. I love this. I frikkin love mean dom Alfie. So hot!

I Wanna Do Bad Things To You

Alfie x reader (Shelby sister)

Summary: You have a plan to betray your powerful brother with the help of Alfie Solomons, but your impetuous and infuriating behavior is far too dramatic for the mad baker. What happens when he puts you in your place?

Author’s Note: Written for the lovely Alex @cillmequick 6 month milestone celebration. Congrats, darl! Prompt “And what would people say if they listened through the wall?” Oxytocin by Billie Eilish. Inspiration taken from the whole song as well. Porn with little to no plot. Bit of a twisted love story.

Warning: 🔞, language, drinking, smut- impact play, fingering, degradation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (if you squint), dom Alfie, mean Alfie

Before Alfie could answer the loud rapping upon his door, it opened suddenly, the fading rays of the afternoon sun outlining your shapely figure in a heavenly glow. However, A Shelby at his door was rarely a good omen and Alfie surmised you were no angel. The ample cleavage spilling over the top of your tightly fitting bodice and the bottle of Irish whisky in your hand only confirmed his suspicions.

Slamming the door behind you, you sauntered toward him confidently, hips swaying seductively with each step. Alfie eyed you suspiciously, pressing the tips of his fingers together in anticipation of some unreasonable demand or another sent straight from Tommy. “Hello, Miss Shelby. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said greeting you with a tip of his head.

You giggled and shook your head, playfully chiding, “So formal, Alfie. You should call me Y/n.” Alfie watched you remove your coat slowly and throw it over a chair as you continued. “I think we’re going to become very close you and I.”

“And why would that be?” Alfie asked, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his stomach.

“I have a business proposition for you,” you said with excitement, boldly taking a seat on the edge of his desk. 

Alfie exhaled loudly muttering, “You Shelbys,” with a shake of his head. “Listen, pet, your brothers thieve my oxygen far too much as it is. Never satisfied with their lot. So you can trot on and tell that cunt Tommy we’re done dealin.’” He motioned to the door with a flick of his wrist, turning his attention to the stack of papers at his elbow. 

Undeterred, you placed the whisky bottle on the desk with a thud, running a fingertip around the edge of the cap lazily as you asked, “What if I told you the deal wasn’t with Tommy? I agree that he’s gotten far too greedy and it’s time we did something about that.” You took a breath before emphasizing, “A more permanent solution.” Your eyes flicked to Alfie to gauge his reaction, but he remained impassive. However, he hadn’t thrown you out yet, so you took that as an encouraging sign. 

Opening the bottle before you with a flourish, you grabbed a nearby glass and began pouring a shot. You slid it across the table, presumptuously asking, “A toast to new partners?”

He frowned, sliding it back to you with two fingers. “Nah,” he replied dismissively.

You tossed your head back with a bubbly laugh, kicking off the desk and slowly approaching Alfie’s chair. He tracked your movement with just his eyes, irritation building at your inability to take a hint that he was uninterested in your scheming. He looked you up and down carefully as you stood before him, noticing how you leaned over to ensure he got a look down your dress. 

You smiled to yourself as you traced a manicured hand along his shirt front, toying with the buttons, one by one. “If you find it hard to swallow, I can loosen up your collar,” you offered. You received a short grunt in reply, perhaps his body betraying his logical mind. Picking up the glass, you offered it to him again with a sweet smile. “It’s the first drop that kills you so there’s no harm in the last,” you joked.

“Wasn’t talking about the whisky, was I?” he asked in a low voice. Then pushing your hand away from his chest he added, “I’m sayin’ no to you, treacle.”

Your smile faded as you struggled to comprehend his sudden rejection. You weren’t used to hearing the word no. Standing to your full height, you pursed your lips in obvious displeasure and attempted to regain composure. “Then tell me why,” you said in a tight voice.

“I could write you a book, but I ain’t got the time. Suffice it to say, I just don’t fucking trust you,” he spat, leaning forward and placing his palms on the desk for emphasis. He stood, signaling the end of your meeting, but you were far from done.

“I hate Tommy as much as you do and I can be valuable to you,” you proclaimed, jutting your chin out with haughty insistence.

Alfie scoffed, “Tommy Shelby’s little sister? Darlin’, this is a man’s world.”

Your blood began to boil that you weren’t being taken seriously. With your plan quickly unraveling, you reached for the glass and downed its contents. But the burn of the alcohol only fueled your rage. You hurled the glass against the wall beside Alfie’s head as you shouted, “You arsehole! You don’t know what I’m capable of!”

Faster than you thought possible, Alfie’s heavy boots thudded against the floorboards in warning. Suddenly his hulking form was towering over you, one large calloused hand reaching out to capture both your wrists in one swift movement. His long fingers encircled you like a rope and tightened with considerable strength, eliciting a whimper from you as you fought to free yourself. He jerked you toward him with a grunt, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

You shook your head to move the fringe from your eyes, realizing he was close enough to feel your pounding heart. However, it wasn’t fear that gripped you in that moment. It was pure adrenaline and excitement. You could feel the heat building in your core as you waited to see what he would do. 

Alfie leaned down to speak to you, jaw clenched with fury. “You’re behaving like a fucking child,” he told you in a low voice. His eyes bore a hole through you and the intensity of it was so great you couldn’t look away. Your chest rose and fell against him, breasts pushing against his broad chest.

He took your chin in his hand harshly, eyes narrowing as he searched your face. “Is that how I should treat you? Like a naughty little girl?” You licked your lips as he continued in a hushed voice, hot breath fanning over your face. “Because I have to admit, right now I want to do very bad things to you, you fucking brat.” As he spoke his eyes darkened with unmistakable lust and you were certain he could feel you bending to his will.

You nodded as best you could with his iron like grip on your jaw. "Yes, I want it," you said breathily. Pleased with your submission, he leaned in to kiss you, pressing his full lips to you insistently and pushing his tongue into your warm, waiting mouth. As he began to pull away he bit your bottom lip harshly as he murmured against the swollen flesh, “You should really run away.” But the wickedness of his words had the opposite effect. You were rooted to the spot, ready for your punishment.

He threw your head away hard enough to turn it and you glimpsed shadows through the frosted glass window. Reality came crashing in on you and you bit your lip as you wondered if Alfie’s employees might be able to see or hear you with their boss. Keeping your eyes trained on the door you asked in a quivering voice, “What would people say if they listened through the wall?”

Alfie’s lips brushed your ear as he growled, “I don’t give a fuck who knows I’m ruining you in here. In fact, I wanna make you yell.” The vibration of his voice sent shock waves straight to your pussy and you felt wetness begin to pool between your legs at his debauchery. You rubbed your thighs together to get some much needed friction, too preoccupied to remember Alfie’s earlier promise of punishment.

You heard the jingle of his belt buckle before you saw the flash of silver beneath his palm and you became aware of Alfie removing his belt, easily sliding the leather strap from his waist. Your breath caught in your chest with a little thrill, knowing you’d thoroughly provoked him. In one swift motion he turned you to face his desk and roughly placed your hands onto the polished wooden surface. He wasted no time turning your skirt up over your waist, exposing you to the cold air. The sudden chill hit and a shiver ran through you.

Alfie stood in silence for a few moments, taking in the sight of you laid out before him. A devilish smirk crossed his lips at the thought of you coming in here without any underwear and he realized he was right to assume you were not as innocent as you seemed. He was going to see how much you could take. How far he could push you. He allowed the anticipation to grow, watching you quiver.

The only sounds came from the distillery, grinding machines and men’s voices shouting to one another. Someone dropped a crate of bottles at the bottom of the stairs, distracting you as the first crack of the strap hit your thigh with a painful sting. You gripped the corners of the desk tightly as a tear sprang to your eye, but you didn’t make a sound as the next blow rained down on your ass. Four more fell in rapid succession and Alfie watched the flesh jiggle with satisfaction. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to grab a handful of you and squeezed appreciatively as you whined at the contact, crying out as he kneaded the sensitive flesh in his rough hands. 

The belt dropped to the floor with a clank and he resumed his work, landing a harsh smack along your thigh so close to your pussy, you felt it begin to throb with need. He waited for you to flinch, but you remained perfectly still, wanting to please him. He stood for a moment stroking his beard as he watched you, feeling his trousers tighten, but he wasn’t finished. 

Raising a ringed hand to you once more, he continued, his open palm landing slaps hard enough to move your body forward along the desk, the edge digging into your hipbones. The sound of Alfie’s grunts and groans of exertion behind you had your mind twisted in confusion. You felt your clit pulse, desperate for attention. As he connected with your ass once more, you began to tear up thinking how close his thick fingers were to where you needed them most. Too frustrated and turned on to remain still any longer, you arched your back, letting out a moan so loud it bordered on a shout. 

Alfie stopped with a jerk, stepping toward you slowly and brought a strong arm to your waist to lift you from the desk. He unlaced your dress as he cooed in your ear, “All finished, pet. You took it so well.” He discarded the material on the floor, erection digging into your burning ass cheek as he carefully ran a hand over the other. You hissed as his cool rings made contact with your sore, reddened flesh and you heard him inhale before exclaiming, “Fucking beautiful sight.” The arm around your waist tightened as a cobra around prey, but his voice remained soft as he hushed you, pushing the hair from your shoulders. 

He left a trail of open mouthed kisses down the nape of your neck before moving on to the crease at your shoulder, the tickling sensation making you squirm. His dominance returned as he began sucking a deep bruise into the thin skin along your collarbone. The sudden intensity of it, causing your hands to fly to his arm, digging your nails in sharply. You panted out little moans for him with each swirl of his tongue, every one of your pretty noises making his cock twitch against you. He rewarded you with another bruise below your ear, his free hand rolling and pinching your exposed nipples to feel them stiffen to a pleasing hardness. 

By the time he switched to the other side of your neck, you were thoroughly marked up and bucking wildly against him from overstimulation. The inside of your upper thighs felt slick with arousal and you were clenching around nothing. If this was part of his discipline, it was not what you had bargained for. You waited in agony, needing to feel him seated within you, the comforting fullness stretching you properly. 

Alfie must have read your mind, turning you to face him. He wiped a tear that escaped the corner of your eye, smiling to himself at the sight of your neediness. Then mercifully he ran a finger along your dripping slit to capture your juices, pushing two thick fingers inside your velvet heat to give you some relief. You sighed softly as he curled his fingers inside you dragging against your inner wall slowly until he found a delicious spot that made your jaw drop in silent ecstasy. As he gave a bit more pressure you swallowed harshly, attempting to sink further onto his hand, but he stopped you, clamping his other hand on your hip.

With an obscene squelching sound, he withdrew his fingers cruelly, swirling his fingertips over your clit to tease you. “I think you must be enjoying this cause you’re making a a fucking mess on my desk,” he chided you. He brought his digits to your eye level to show you the juices dripping off him as proof. Then he placed his fingers on your tongue as he commanded, “Clean it up.” You obediently swirled your tongue over his fingers tasting yourself with every lick. Making eye contact with him you gently sucked with hollowed cheeks as you hummed around his digits. The corners of your lips curled, knowing the vibrations were going straight to his aching cock. “Do you like this, naughty girl?” he asked with a dark chuckle. He watched your pupils blow wide and he nodded, “Good, cause we ain’t finished yet.”

He pulled his fingers from you with a pop, smearing saliva and lipstick across your mouth, and you watched with bated breath as he removed his shirt and trousers. The moment you saw his cock spring free, you reached out to touch him, but he swatted you away. His hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping himself in front of you as an added bit of torture before he ordered you to the sofa in the corner. You scrambled to the shabby piece of furniture as Alfie growled, “On your fucking hands and knees.” As soon as you were in place, you felt the springs dip beneath you with his weight and then you felt his warm hand splayed across the small of your back holding you in place.

You felt the tip of his cock slide through your wet folds, gathering your juices and you shimmied your ass to entice him. Suddenly he was pushing into you all at once, his thickness splitting you open around him. Alfie groaned at the sight of you spread wide for him, unable to stop himself from pulling out and slamming back into you to hear you cry out. His animalistic nature took over, driving into you sharply with a snap of his hips, the force of it causing his balls to slap against your clit over and over. The repeated motion had you panting and moaning in no time and you could practically hear the smirk as he rumbled, “Such a pretty little whore. Let me hear ya.” You clenched around him, mewling at the sensation of him thrusting deep enough to feel in your stomach. Alfie stilled momentarily, enjoying the pulse around his cock and making note of how you gripped him like a vice after he degraded you. Fuck, you liked this and he would give you more.

Soon he began to move within you again at a slower pace, dragging his length within you as you arched your back for him. Alfie leaned forward gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail and gave a harsh tug on your roots. That was all it took for you to push back against him for more greedily. “You get off on being filthy, do ya?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension. You didn’t speak, too overcome by sensation to respond, but Alfie knew your secret now. “Squeezing me so tight, pet. I think you enjoy being a whore for me,” he grunted wrapping your locks around his fist to tilt your head back at a precarious angle.

“Show me now. Make yourself cum on my cock like a good little whore,” he goaded you. You didn’t need to be told again, hand flying to your swollen nub and rubbing tight circles. Your eyes squeezed shut as you listened to the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. Alfie’s grunts didn’t grow any louder as he sped up his pace, urging you on, but your cries reached a deafening crescendo as you felt your lower belly pool with heat, desperate to be released. 

“Wanna cum. I need to cum, please, please,” you babbled feeling Alfie pound into you with reckless abandon. 

Yanking you up by your hair so your back was flush with his chest, Alfie huffed, “Not yet,” clearly annoyed at your pleas. You bit your lip trying to stave off your orgasm, but it was building faster than you could stop it. Feeling the fluttering resume around his cock, Alfie warned, “You better hold it, naughty girl.”

Reaching behind you to grab onto him for stability you whined, “I can’t…I can’t." Alfie’s balls tightened at the sound of your pathetic cries and his hips stuttered suddenly, rhythm lost in the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume him.

Bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear he panted out, “Now…cum right fucking now….with me.” Your fingers flew over your clit, needing only a few light strokes to begin shaking in pleasure. As Alfie released inside you, he bit down on your shoulder. Your jaw went slack as he fucked you through the aftershocks. A primal grunt left his lips at the feeling of your tight pussy milking him of every drop.

Collapsing back onto the sofa, Alfie dragged you with him, making you straddle his lap. You draped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling your body becoming heavy with exhaustion. He ran a hand along your back soothingly until your heart rates returned to normal, then you heard his voice low and rasped rumble from deep within his chest. “Fuck me, treacle, I could have you like that every day.”

You smiled to yourself wondering if he might reconsider your earlier offer. You sat up to look him in the eye and in a determined voice you ventured, “Alfie, I meant what I said about getting rid of Tommy. We should be partners.”

“Careful, pet, can’t take it back once it’s been set in motion,” Alfie warned you, a hint of his dark nature returning. Then you felt his hand clamp around your throat possessively as he snaked his tongue into your mouth, sparking a desperate clash for dominance and ending with your eventual surrender for air. 

“You and I are the same, Alfie,” you gasped as you balanced a hand on his sweaty chest. Nuzzling his nose with yours you continued, “We need each other and you know it.” Nibbling at his lip you admitted wantonly, “I like it when you do bad things to me.”

He gripped your face as he forced you to look up at him. “Think you might be right, but let’s get one thing straight cause I’m a dodgy fucker myself. As long as you’re still breathing, don’t ever think of leaving me.” The low rumble of his voice hypnotized you in such a way you couldn’t deny him. You held his intense gaze as you shook your head.

“Never,” you vowed. 

And that’s how the evening began, plotting to take Tommy’s crown so you could become Alfie’s queen.

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

Tag List:

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[feveredvisions]

SHIBARI MENTION >< !! I also love how you got realistic with his peener size and appearance like what matters is he knows how to use his god-given gifts to their fullest potential ^_^ @zablife

Alfie Solomons NSFW Alphabet

Alfie x gn reader

Alfie Solomons Masterlist

Warnings: 🔞

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Alfie is surprisingly tender after sex, he wants nothing more than to cradle you in his arms and stroke your hair. There's a sudden rush of vulnerability that washes over him at the thought of losing you, a terrifying worry you'll leave him for someone younger and healthier. He tries to soak up every minute, hoping it won't be his last with you.

But you would never think of leaving a man who treats you so well. Insistent on taking care for you when you're exhausted from lovemaking, he'll gently push your legs apart to clean your sticky thighs and if he's left any marks on you, he'll apply a special ointment to help you heal faster. Then he'll bring you water and cover your exposed shoulders with a warm blanket as he settles in beside you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Alfie adores your thighs and ass. There's something about the tender flesh of those intimate areas that instantly arouses him. You can be fully clothed, bending over to retrieve something from a low cabinet and he'll get a semi. And he loves pressing himself against your ass when he stands behind you, a firm grip on your hips to hold you there as he savors the contact.

His hands, large and imposing like two huge bear paws, are by far your fave. His strength is conveyed not only in size, but through the adornments he chooses-gold rings of wealth/success and crown tattoos boasting power. Ofc he's always a gentle giant with you, using his thick fingers to bring you pleasure before opening you up for the considerable stretch of his cock.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Alfie doesn't like the idea of waste, esp when it involves his cum. He has a primal need to fill you up every chance he gets. Tho he prefers your cunt or ass, he'll cum down your throat if necessity dictates (usually a quick bj in his office).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Alfie enjoys dipping his tongue into your abused hole for a taste of himself. There's something about your combined essence that drives him wild.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

As someone with a considerable amount of life experience, Alfie prides himself on his ability to please women and men. He'll happily boast about his talent for wringing multiple orgasms from his partners.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As an ass man, Alfie's fave is doggy style. There's nothing he enjoys more than seeing you on all fours for him, plump flesh jiggling with every thrust. And when you eventually collapse onto your elbows from the force, he slides one large hand between your shoulder blades to press you face down into the mattress.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Never, sex is serious business for Alfie. In fact, at the beginning of your relationship, the feral look in his eye coupled with a low growl seemed almost sinister as tho he intended to devour you whole. However, you quickly learned that his savage lovemaking was how he expressed passion. It's lucky you worked this out on your own bc you know he'd be wracked with guilt to learn he frightened you.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The man is like an overgrown hedge with thick, dark hair everywhere. At first glance one might think his slovenly appearance is a product of apathy, but Alfie is merely trying to manage his skin condition as best he can. Shaving exacerbates his psoriasis so he forgoes it. The good news is that he's conscientious about bathing because he knows how much you enjoy carding your fingers through his chest hair as well as nuzzling your nose in his pubic hair when you take him into your throat.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Alfie isn't the sort of man who brings you flowers or expresses himself with flowery language, but he will be steadfastly loyal to you if you commit yourself to him, prioritizing you above all else. He's been known to take you to bed for days at a time, blocking out the world. That's why he bought Margate, to have a place to escape with you and cater to your every whim. And tho he doesn't make a habit of saying "I love you," the sentiment is evident in every heartfelt gesture of devotion.

J = Jack off (masturbation head canon)

The first time you met Alfie, he explained in great detail how his religion doesn't allow him to masturbate. "It's a sin to murder my potential offspring," he solemnly informs you. There's no point arguing with him on the matter bc he always has a clever reply. However, you mourn the missed opportunity to see his ringed hand wrapped around his cock.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Alfie has more than a few kinks bc he isn't bound by a sense of shame. He is unapologetically himself in all situations. Therefore, he takes nothing but pleasure in exploring shibari (Japanese art of rope tying), spanking/caning and orgasm control. He's not immune to the term "daddy" and will likely indulge you if you choose to use the nickname for him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Alfie might not mind people knowing what excites him, but the evidence is often concealed behind closed doors. He demands privacy out of respect for his partner, wanting you to feel safe and fully protected at all times. Therefore he chooses his townhouse in London or his home in Margate for all rendezvous. Ofc there is the occasional tryst at his distillery, but that happens in his office behind a locked door with Ollie standing guard.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Intelligence is Alfie's biggest turn on as he needs constant mental stimulation. There's nothing he enjoys more than verbal sparring with a worthy opponent. He likes a quick wit and someone with fire inside them. When dealing with his men, he's in awe of your ability to annihilate them with your sharp tongue bc he struggles with a vicious temper that often leads to violence.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Alfie has an aversion to choking because of his experience with hand to hand combat during the war. He once confided that the first man he ever killed was gasping for air beneath his powerful hands. Tho he might clutch your jaw possessively or pull your hair, he'd never put his hands around your throat for fear of inviting flashbacks which could make him lose control.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Alfie can be selfish in this regard, summoning you to his office to suck him off on stressful days. After you've emptied his balls, he likes to lean back in his chair with you cockwarming him. However, you enjoy it just as much as he does, head resting on his muscular thigh in blissful silence.

That isn't to say Alfie never reciprocates. He is more than willing to give head when he can lie down with you straddling his face. Back comfortably supported, he can take his time with you and enjoy the lovely view of your quivering body. He loves to grab your ass, holding you close to his eager mouth. And he's obsessed with the little hip jerk you give when he spreads you wide to finger your ass.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

Alfie is capable of both and tho you're rapidly becoming addicted to the brute force of his quick thrusts, there's something about the way he can slow things down and take his time that truly captures your heart and imagination. If he had his choice, he would always prolong the experience bc the things he enjoys most require time (knot tying, edging, etc.)

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Alfie isn't a fan of quickies other than the occasional bj under his desk bc he delights in watching every small detail of your face as you unravel before him. He dislikes being rushed when he's locked into the methodical process of bringing you to the brink of orgasm over and over again. He needs time to draw out every beautiful moan and plea for release.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

It depends on the risk tbh. He's cautious, but willing to experiment when it comes to anything like impact play or weapons. These are scenarios he can control, stopping as soon as he hears the safe word. What he absolutely won't risk is your reputation. He knows how lucky he is to have you and would never intentionally inflict emotional pain or embarrassment. This means no exhibitionism, threesomes or possible impregnation without a lengthy discussion of pros and cons.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Alfie is nearing 40 and slowing down, esp when his sciatica flares. However, he's quite capable of withholding his own end to ensure you're completely satisfied. You might only go one round, but that's more than enough.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Alfie is fond of using rope as he enjoys the art of shibari and you're his willing rope bunny. There's something about the intricate ties and the unique patterns the thick rope leaves upon your skin that makes him rock hard. Most of all he loves the connection it fosters between you and the deep bond created by trust.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Unfortunately for you, Alfie likes to tease. He's a man who appreciates strategy so he's more than willing to delay his own pleasure in pursuit of your limits.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Alfie loves the sound of his own voice so ofc he's going to be vocal l in the bedroom. And holy fuck can he be loud from his grunts and moans to the filthy things others might whisper. He's confident enough to enjoy dirty talk at full volume, unable to control himself when he's buried inside you. However, he also likes his partner to respond in kind. In fact, if you don't answer him, he's likely to give you a harsh spank to spur you on.

W = Wild card (a random head canon for the character)

Alfie gave you his pinkie ring on your first anniversary and now you wear it on a chain around your neck. Whenever you make love, he clutches the ring in his hand tightly, pulling your body close to his as a way to claim you as his own.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Alfie doesn't have a beautiful cock. There I said it! It's barely average length, crooked slightly to the left and when you remove his shorts, you're likely to find an angry red tip oozing precum, balls swollen with cum. However, there's something intoxicating about the evidence of his desire for you that drives your need for him. There's also his impressive girth to consider which more than makes up for what he lacks in length. As he presses the head of his cock inside you, it's enough to make you moan with want. And when he's inside you, there's an overwhelming sense of fullness that can border on slight discomfort. However, he's quite aware of this and takes his time to relax you fully before making you take everything he has to give.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

For a middle aged man, you'd think Alfie's sex drive would be slowing down. However, he shows no signs of flagging energy when he's with you. You have a certain effect on him that leaves him feeling like a horny teenager.

Z = Zzz

Alfie likes to know you're settled comfortably before he can drift off to sleep. He prefers to hold you in his arms, feeling your weight draped across his chest in order to sleep deeply himself.

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

Tag List:

@potter-solomons

@leenieweenie12

@mani-pedro

@cinnxmxngxrl

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[feveredvisions]

The Beast In Me

Harry Da Souza's POV in MobLand Ep01S10; post-war calm, post-carnage.

Masterlist. Requests r open xx

dividers: @strangergraphics; @gildui

Summary: A king without a crown (yet), but with blood blooming under his ribs and love lodged in his chest. You may read Jan's POV here.

Author's Note: FORGIVE ME FOR MY ABSENCE. I WAS WORKNG FOR WEEKS STRAIGHT AND HATED IT. HOW DARE WORK TAKE ME AWAY FROM DOING WHAT I LUV MOST GRRR No pressure tags: @followsfrankiep, @potter-solomons, @zablife, @tickettride, @cinnxmxngxrl, @alfiestreacle

You think there’s going to be a moment, after the last body drops, after the last bullet tears through its final meat– some kind of a hush. Peace.

But there isn’t. Just the ringing in your head. The phantom smell of blood even after showering twice. Shirts clean but soul reeks of a fucking gun barrel.

Richie Stevenson is dead. That should mean something. Peace. Or the start of it. No more snipers watching us piss/ No more safehouses rigged to blow. Maeve and Conrad rotting in custody. Kat’s vanished for now. The board’s clear. For a moment, I’ve won. The world’s quieter for now. The Harrigans are leashed. Power’s in reach if I want it.

So I let myself want something else. Something stupid. Something domestic. I let myself want to come home, wash up, eat a proper warm dinner, fall asleep in my wife’s arms.

But I've been in this game long enough to know that peace doesn’t come with trumpets. It comes with a quiet wife. Quiet’s never good. Not with Jan.

Jan at the kitchen counter, chopping carrots. Shoulders tight. Her silence was the most lethal thing I’d witnessed in days. Not the bodies. Not the blood. Not the fire. And the sharp sound of the knife hitting the chopping board. Thock. Thock. Thock. Like she was two bad thoughts away from walking out, or burning the house down, or both.

She didn’t look up when I walked into the kitchen. Didn’t greet me with a sigh, or a raised brow, or a “Nice of you to finally fucking show up.”

Just a blunt “hi.” and the knife moving. Thock. Thock. Thock.

To be fair, I should’ve knocked. Should’ve called. Should’ve said, “Hi, Jan. I love you.” Should’ve said “I’m sorry.” “Let’s leave this shithole, Jan. Let’s run.” Should’ve done a thousand things I’ve never done for her. But there’s something about coming home to the woman you’ve let yourself believe is your anchor that makes you forget to be cautious

“Richie’s dead,” I said instead. Because I’m a fucking idiot. And it felt like the first thing that mattered because I wanted to see her eyes lift, wanted to see her relief. Proof I’d kept my promise.

Jan didn’t flinch nor blinked. Or turned her head to give me a look.

“Is he? That’s nice.” Every ounce of violence held back through her teeth.

Right.

I ask about Gina, our daughter. Our Gina. The only thread between us that hasn’t snapped. It’s the only thing I can think to say to the woman I’ve made a life of putting in danger. Jan tells me Gina's upstairs.

I tried again. Tried to buy myself bac into her good graces. Like the proper idiot that I am.

“It’s gonna be different now,” I tell her.

”Is it?” she says. Fuck me.

“I promise,” I respond like it’s currency as if I’ve never spent every promise I’ve made her.

“That’s nice,” she says without a care. I’ve run out of currency. Overdrawn by years.

“So, we, um…we’ll have something to eat. And then get our stuff and go home.” I don’t know what I thought would happen after opening my big mouth again. That maybe she’d have turned around to kiss me, thank me for cleaning up the mess, for killing the big bad monster. That she’d let me hold her, let me fuck her on the counter like we used to when we were young and stupid and the world was still a place where you could dream about tomorrow and many lifetimes together.

She laughs. Cold. Keeps chopping. Thock. Thock. Thock. 

“What,” she spat out. Words burning through my flesh. “And play happy fucking families, yeah?” She snapped, slicing through the carrot harder like she wished it were my ring finger instead. I know I owe her more than that for all the shit I put her through.

I just stand there, watching the woman I had made a hostage to my life. No...a co-defendant.

I listen to her– that she’s done. I don’t interrupt. Just let it all hit me. That she can’t do it anymore. That she can’t keep dragging Gina around to safehouses that smell like bleach and blood, can’t keep pretending we’re some happy family while I come home with ghosts in my eyes and sins on my hands. She tells me the hollow promises I’ve fed her between jobs, between bullets. She’s shaking, voice high, breath hitching, eyes burning.

“Who the fuck are you, Harry? Tell me. Because I don’t know anymore.”

And fuck if that didn’t land like a brick to the chest because I don’t even know anymore. I haven’t looked at myself in a mirror in months. Not properly. Not long enough to find myself in the reflection. What would I see anyway? A man with good intentions and no follow-through. A man built on ghosts.

I felt shame. The bitter, quiet knowing that I'm good at death and blood. Gore. Corpses. Cleanups. You call, I show up. You scream, I'm there. But when it comes to sitting down with my wife? A couple's therapy talk session? A five-minute fuckin chat?

I vanish.

You can teach a man how to kill. You can't teach him how to look the woman he loves in the eye and admit he's the reason her life's falling apart.

I never showed up. Not when it counted.

Jan resumed slicing the carrots. Faster. Angrier. Knife hitting the chopping board like a metronome for a life she didn’t choose. I want to touch her. Want to ground her. So I step closer. Try to touch her. Take the weight off of tending to the carrots. Then she flinches, the sharp knife tip nicks her finger. She hisses. Knife clattering against the marble countertop.

“Ow, fuck,” she mutters. Holding up her hand with the brightly bloodied finger.

“Let me see.” I reach out, calm, because I know how to fix things, how to patch wounds, how to keep people breathing.

“Harry, fuck off.”

“Let me take a look.”

“Fuck off.”

I move closer, reaching her hand she forsakes from me. 

“I said fuck off!” She screams, pushes me away with her other good hand. Hard. The force dug through my chest, tender and stinging. I thought she punched through my heart for a second there. Warmth bloomed in my chest where she touched me. Hit me hard. Then it stung.

I look down and there it is.

The handle of the paring knife sticking out of my chest. Banger party trick, that is.

Jan’s eyes widened in horror. All her rage drained out of her face.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Harry.”

I just stood there, feeling the numbing weight of the blade, the heat of my blood, the clarity of the moment. For another second, the world goes really quiet and peaceful this time. Because for the first time in God knows how long, Jan is looking at me. Really looking at me. Her terrified eyes glassy with tears flowing down her face.

“Harry. Harry. Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry,” Jan was crying, whimpering, panic rising off her.

She’s reaching out to me with her shaky hands, but not touching. Afraid to pull the knife out, afraid to leave it in.

And fuck me, but there’s a part in me– perhaps I’m a bloody sadistic, deeply perverted, sick cunt who finds satisfaction in getting stabbed by my own tormented wife, but a part of me was relieved that she fucking did it. That she’s still here, that she hasn’t left despite her, that she damn cares enough to rage, to lose control, to scream at me, and to stab me.

She still gives a fuck about me.

Jan follows me as I carefully walk out of the kitchen to sit on the settee at the hallway. Sinking onto the semi-firm velvet cushion while her hands hover, unsure whether to press the wound or cradle my face, or already pull the knife out.

Although I wish Jan was cussing because she was cumming. Because I was the one buried deep inside her. Flesh to flesh. Losing herself underneath me, because of me. Not because she’s terrified I’m bleeding out to death.

I slightly wince as I settled down on the velvet settee. My heart pounding in my chest. The lodged blade in my chest making my flesh sting and ache.

“Hary, fuck. Harry–” God, I love the way she says my name. Even now. Especially now.

I want her to be screaming it. Hips rolling, hair falling into her face, sweat sticking to her neck while she gasps out all the curses she just stammered out of panic because I’ve hit the spot she tries to hide from me when she’s angry. Because I’m the only one who knows how to open her up.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” She keeps saying like she was praying and confessing at the same time.

“Jan,” I croak, breathless. Turning my head to look at her. The pain is real, but it was nothing compared to the way I ache for her.

I’d take ten more knives if it meant she’d touch me like she used to. If it meant she’d look at me like she did when she was seventeen, trembling underneath me in the backseat of my first stolen car. Swearing with every breath, calling me every name in the book. Her pitched breathy feminine voice breaking apart because she was too full of me to care.

I wish she’d call me a fucking bastard because she can’t handle the way I’m making her feel and not because I’ve fucked up her life.

She’s shaking, hands fluttering, blood slowly blooming around the punctured area on my chest. “Harry, oh god. Harry–”

“Fucking hell,” I rasped, “well now you have my full attention.”

Her wild eyes settle on mine and there it was: the raw, desperate love that’s always been ours. The kind that was too big, too dangerous, too consuming.

And the best part of it all is she’s still mine. Even now. Especially now.

“Don’t pull it out,” I tell her, smirking despite the pain. “Not yet”

Her eyes widened as a choked laughter burst through her tears. “You’re fucking mad!” She scolded me.

“You married me,” I remind her, “so what’s that make you?”

She crumples into a sob of laughter. Then she moves closer, leans in. I press my forehead to hers, the knife shifting, pain blooming, which I didn’t care about. My other hand slowly slides up her arm until I cup her jaw.

“You should be screaming my name for the right reasons.” I murmur.

I feel her shudder. Lips parting for a moment then closing them.

“Should be cussing ‘cause you’re cumming, Jan,” I rasp, sucking in a breath as a sharp stinging pain throbbed for a quick second. “Not because you’re scared.”

She lets out a whimper and a sob. I know she remembers, too the way we were. The way we could be again.

I've spent a lifetime mastering death. Cleaning up after it. Creating it. I know how to end a man in under ten second and clean my boots before the body hits the ground. But ask me to keep a marriage alive? To raise a daughter without making her flinch? I'm shit at it. Utter. Fucking. Shit.

There were moments-- birthdays I missed, conversations I shut down, therapy appointments Jan begged me to show up for. I couldnt even give her one goddamn hour in a beige room to talk about us. Couldn't sit still. Couldn't look her in the eye. Always running off to clean up some other family's disaster while my own house burned behind me.

There's no handbook for it. If there were, it would just rot in the corner collecting dust.

The blood feels heavier, soaking my shirt. Colder and definitely staining a larger area now. The blade shifts. Bright blinding zing of sharp pain flashes like lightning behind my head.

I begin to feel lightheaded. My vision starting to unfocus.

My body slumps weakly towards my wife, probably staining her cashmere sweater with my blood.

The knife still lodged in me.

Everything else…quiet.

Fuck it.

Let it pour. Let it all fucking pour.

--FIN--

i miss mobland sundays </3 also does anyone want wounded harry x jan smut after this <//3

[feveredvisions]

oh my fucking god i missed this fucking app. i got so caught up with work how fucking dare!!

hold on lemme catch up with everything and post my revised drafts too and everything xx

[feveredvisions]

Thank u so much for the mention!! Currently clawing my way through a block to push out Harry fics before the second szn of MobLand starts 🖤

Hi love your works a lot!! So u know more Harry writers?? ty

Thank you so much🩷🫶🏻 The only ones I can think of right now who are writing for him are @zablife @feveredvisions @pacifymebby

If anyone else reading this is also writing for Harry, or knows someone who is, please comment below!!

[feveredvisions]

Editing this era of Tom

[feveredvisions]

SORRY SIR COILD U KEEP MY HAND THERE TOO FOR SAFETY PURPOSES PLSPSSPSLLSSJSKSK

Thomas, where did you put your phone?

[feveredvisions]

This is my type of porn.

[feveredvisions]

Yummmmy he's so hot daddy wolf here

a study in shorts.

[feveredvisions]

this mf definitely with his knife kink @followsfrankiep

[feveredvisions]

WHAT A CUTIE PIE!!!