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syrooo · 1 month ago

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I ate this up, delicious, give me 14 more RIGHT NOW

Hi saw requests were open!! I would love some enemies to lovers spice with harvey!! Kind of like him and scottie’s relationship vibes…been rewatching early seasons and he is so fine 😮‍💨

nightcap | harvey specter x reader

a/n: i got incredibly carried away i am so sorry i love harvey specter

warnings: SMUT 18+, like way more than i usually write... read at your own risk, cursing, drinking, not proofread

You leave the office with your heels in one hand and your patience in the other.

It’s nearly midnight. The glow of New York is indifferent and loud, but the stretch of pavement between Pearson Hardman and your favorite bar is quiet. Familiar. Just enough space to shake the courtroom adrenaline from your spine.

You don’t even look at the menu. Just slide onto your usual stool and nod at the bartender.

“Neat,” you say. “Whatever’s strongest.”

It’s been a week of depositions and deadlines and power plays. And worst of all, Harvey fucking Specter.

You don’t need a mirror to know you’re still scowling.

He’s been on your nerves for months—grinning that smug, movie-star smile in every partner meeting, interrupting you mid-sentence with some quip that makes the boardroom laugh and your blood boil. Now both of your names are on the shortlist for name partner, and it feels less like competition and more like combat.

So of course—of course—when the bartender sets your drink down, you hear it.

That voice.

"Didn’t peg you for a bourbon girl."

You turn your head slowly, already regretting it.

Harvey fucking Specter.

Leaning one elbow against the bar. Loosened tie. Jacket abandoned. A smirk curling at the corner of his mouth like he’s just waiting for you to throw the first punch.

You glare. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He shrugs. “Believe me, if I were kidding, you’d be laughing.”

You toss back half your drink in one go. It burns just enough to make you feel alive. “Well, guess your comedic timing’s as off as your courtroom objections.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You always this charming off the clock?”

“Only when I’m forced to share air with insufferable narcissists.”

“Must be exhausting, living in your own shadow.”

You shoot him a look. “Funny. I was going to say the same about yours.”

There’s a pause—sharp-edged and electric. The bar hums around you, low music and clinking glasses, but the space between you and Harvey feels like it’s thrumming with something heavier.

His eyes flick down to your mouth. Just for a second. But it’s enough.

You slide your glass away. “I came here to drink. Not banter.”

“Then why haven’t you walked away?”

You don’t answer. Just motion to the bartender for another round.

Two drinks later, the lines are blurrier.

“You always this insufferable after two bourbons?” you ask, eyes hazy but mouth sharp.

He chuckles, nursing his third. “Only around people who pretend they hate me.”

“I don’t pretend.”

“No?” he leans closer. “That why you’re still sitting here, all flushed and twitchy?”

You scoff. “You wish.”

“I don’t have to.”

You roll your eyes so hard your head tilts with it. “You know what your problem is?”

He raises his glass in mock toast. “Enlighten me.”

“You think being good at your job means you can get away with everything.”

“I don’t think,” he says. “I know.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“And yet?” He tips his drink toward yours. “Still here.”

Another round.

The world tilts a little. He’s too close. You’re too warm. His voice is a low hum in your spine.

You blink slower than you should.

And when he leans infuriatingly close to you again, you don't bother to pull away.

---

His massive bachelor pad isn’t far. You don’t remember leaving the bar so much as you remember the weight of his hand at your lower back, the way your name sounded when he said it in that voice—low, amused, like he knew exactly where this night was heading.

The elevator ride is a blur of tension and locked eyes, breath hitching and distance shrinking.

By the time the front door clicks shut behind you, your back is already pressed against it.

“You're such a fucking pain in the ass,” you mutter against his mouth as he kisses you like he’s been waiting years for permission.

He huffs a laugh against your lips. “So are you.”

His hands are already under your blouse—cool palms, confident fingers. You tug at his belt, teeth clashing, breaths short and uneven.

He walks you backward toward the kitchen counter without breaking the kiss, like he’s memorized the layout just for this.

“You gonna talk the whole time?” he breathes against your throat.

“Only if you keep giving me reasons.”

The laugh he lets out is pure sin. And then he’s spinning you around, pushing you forward just enough to make your breath catch, and pressing against you with every hard, tailored inch.

You reach back, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you grind back into him, hips slow and deliberate.

He groans, low and ragged. "You have no idea what you’re starting."

You glance at him over your shoulder, lips parted, eyes sharp. "Can you try shutting the fuck up for once in your life?"

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

His hands are everywhere—your waist, your thighs, your chest. He tugs your skirt up in one breathless sweep, fingers trailing along the inside of your legs like he owns them. You brace your palms on the marble counter as he sinks to his knees behind you, yanking your underwear down with one rough tug.

“Already soaked,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “Knew you liked fighting me.”

You arch back toward him, breath shivering. “Harvey—”

He doesn’t wait.

His mouth is hot and unrelenting, tongue sliding through your folds like he’s got a point to prove. He groans into you when your hips buck, nails biting into your thighs to keep you still. You choke on a moan, one hand clawing at the smooth countertop as he licks you open—slow, deep, sinful.

You don’t beg. Not out loud.

But the way you’re grinding down into his face says enough.

He stands abruptly, turning you around, lifting you onto the counter with a grip that says you’re not going anywhere.

“Take it off,” he says, voice all gravel and control, tugging your blouse open with practiced urgency. Buttons scatter. Your bra’s gone in seconds.

You yank his shirt from his pants, fingers fumbling with his belt like you’ll combust if you don’t feel him soon.

He grins into your mouth as you kiss him, desperate and raw. “You gonna let me fuck you right here, sweetheart?”

You pant, legs wrapped around his waist, grinding against the hard line of him through his pants. “Do it before I change my mind.”

“Not a fucking chance.”

He finally frees himself from his slacks, and the moment he thrusts into you, there’s no preamble—no warning. Just the slick, unforgiving press of him filling you to the hilt in one breathless, brutal stroke.

Your head drops back with a gasp. “Fuck—”

“That’s the idea,” he growls, pulling back and slamming into you again, harder this time. The counter jerks under you with each thrust.

You cling to the edge of it, knuckles white, your thighs trembling as he fucks you open like he’s trying to make a point. Like the friction between your bodies is just another argument, and this time he refuses to lose.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he pants, each word punctuated by the smack of skin against skin. “The way you bite your lip every time I piss you off?”

“Shut up,” you rasp, nails dragging down his back.

He grabs your jaw and forces your eyes to his, hips still grinding into you with ruthless precision. “No. You shut up. And take it.”

And you do.

Because it’s Harvey Specter—insufferable, smug, perfectly filthy Harvey Specter—and this might be the only thing you’ve ever agreed on.

You barely register your own sounds anymore—moans punched from your throat, gasps caught between the grind of your hips and the brutal pace of his. The counter creaks beneath you, and somewhere in the haze, a glass shatters off the edge, but neither of you flinch.

His thumb drags over your clit in tight, relentless circles, and your body jolts like he’s rewired you. “Fuck—Harvey—”

“I know,” he grits out. “You gonna come for me, or you gonna keep pretending you hate this?”

You want to hit him. You want to come. You want him to shut up and never stop.

Your answer is a cry—high, broken, shuddering as your orgasm hits you hard, legs tightening around him, thighs trembling. He fucks you through it, never letting up, hips snapping like he needs your pleasure to prove a point.

“God, look at you,” he groans. “Fucking soaked. You like being fucked stupid, don’t you?”

You’re still shaking when he pulls out, and you barely catch your breath before he’s dragging you off the counter, spinning you around, bending you over the same marble surface.

“You can take more,” he says, and it’s not a question.

And you do.

He fucks you again from behind—deeper now, slower but just as filthy. His hand presses between your shoulder blades, holding you down while his other slides under your body, fingers curling between your legs like he owns you.

You come again with a sob, knees buckling, and that’s what finally breaks him.

He comes with a growl in your ear, deep and rough and devastating.

Neither of you speak for a long moment. The kitchen is filled with the sound of harsh breathing, the metallic tick of the refrigerator, the soft rustle of clothes against skin. He doesn’t move. Just rests his forehead against your shoulder like he’s catching his breath on holy ground.

You’re the one who breaks the silence first.

"This was a mistake," you whisper, except you’re not sure you believe it.

Harvey presses a kiss to the base of your neck. "Then I guess we’ll have to keep making it."

You don’t roll your eyes. You don’t shove him off.

You just breathe—shaky, uneven, alive.

And wonder how the hell you’re supposed to face him in the office tomorrow.

-----

tagging: @artstennisracket @glennussy @blastzachilles @jordiemeow

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syrooo · 2 months ago

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SORRY FOR NOT BEING INTERACTIVE 😭😭 HAD SOME ISSUES, NOW READING FROM THE PART WHERE I LEFT AND EATING TS UPPPP

The Shadows That Nurture 29

Didn't expect to finish ch 30 this fast, but I needed the distraction from the complete anxiety I have as today is election day. :) :) :) I'm terrified of the results. ANYWAY- enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 29 >>next(TBC)

Alfred has been cleaning and re-cleaning the manor for days, he’s been doing a lot of things just to keep his mind off the interaction. He understood the distrust. He did. It still hurt. He knew that if he spoke up, Bruce and the others would follow, despite how the socialites and the outside world may see the family, he was the true head of the house. But something always stopped him, a nudging feeling that there was no need for that. She was safe in the shadows.

But at what point did it go from not wanting her involved in the socialite and vigilante life to just neglecting her? Emotionally, physically, medically- it was a surprise that the CPS just let them go, not even a slap on the wrist.

The aging butler frowned, stopping his polishing of the vase in your room. How many has CPS failed just because the family was rich? How many just because the organization didn't want to do some paperwork? Life with your mother wasn’t exactly meeting the standards of raising a mentally sound, happy child- did the organization fail you then, too? He was a hypocrite for judging a dead woman, considering how they raised you, he knew, but he was a prideful man.

Alfred looked around the room. It was too small, too far away from the rest of the family. He was sure Bruce would be fine if he moved you closer- it’ll be needed once you come back home to them. Tim’s eyes followed the man as he walked past him, not even bothering to answer him.

“What the fuck…” The young man sighs, brushing it off as he leaves the room as well. He redirected himself to Bruce’s office. Dick wasn’t answering his phone, the demon brat couldn’t be found anywhere, they were clearly plotting, and he didn’t like any of it- he didn’t like not being part of it, first of all, second, he knew it was regarding you and he had a feeling it’ll backfire on all of them.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Kate is still alive... and we had an argument.” You and Debbie stared at the Immortal who opened the door, handed a gift to Oliver and you two, and plopped down into a chair. “I’ll go buy a bottle of wine.” Your mother muttered as she turned and left, more than likely not planning to actually return anytime soon. Your eyes remained on Abe as you processed and prepared mentally for what was to come. “Okay- that… Do you want to start from the beginning or just rant- like- What do you mean Kate is alive?”

“She keeps her original form hidden. Every Kate you, the guardians, and Teen Team have seen is a copy.” A headache was slowly forming as you took a seat across from the man. “Okay- what was the argument about? Were you angry she lied to you? Or-“

“You.” The Immortal interrupted. “It was about you. I was happy to see her, I didn’t even expect her to take refuge in my cabin- everything was fine, then she looked through my phone, found out about our conversation, and after she saw a photo of baby Oliver with the illusion you put on him to not bring attention outside she kind of assumed it’s our baby-“ You whine in your palms, hands covering your flushing face. “And she may have gone crazy-“

“It sounds like she thought you moved on too fast.” Oliver interjected, settling into a chair as well, wanting to be part of the drama. “Or that you may have even cheated, considering it hasn’t been that long- wait- did you even try to talk it out?” You couldn’t judge Kate for looking through his phone, you were a grade A snooper, you’d have done the same. “I did!” Abraham tried to defend himself. “Uncle Abe, you’re a bad communicator. I don’t think you two talked the way you think you did.” The purple kid retorts, mindlessly toying with the wooden figurine. You agreed as the man sputters at the unfiltered boy. “You and Kate are stubborn people, however, you’re more willing to let others control your life than Kate is, which makes it easy for her to wrap you around her finger.”

“That is, if you actually feel what you feel for each other. You both lost people in different ways when you got together, it honestly feels like an emotional attachment based on lust and loneliness rather than love- I mean, what’s next, getting married after not even a year of being together and getting her pregnant?” You watched as the man’s face reddened with embarrassment. “You both are rushing into this with different types of insecurities and wounds, you shouldn’t even be here.”

“You should be there, with her, talking it out without yelling, showing each other some vulnerability, you know, like two adults.” The Immortal looked at you for a bit, searching your eyes for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to see. The man sighs and gets up. “You’re right. I should go back and try to see what’s actually wrong.” As he ruffled Oliver’s hair, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, bidding his goodbyes.

A moment of silence fell over you and your brother before the little brat started singing. “ -sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i- auch!” The boy started tearing up as the stinging pain of having his nose flicked settled in, immediately yelling after April to tattle that you hit him. “Nuh-uh.” Oliver turned to look at you, exasperation written all over his teary face. “What do you mean nuh-uh?! You did!” He turned to the older woman. “She did!”

“Nah.” Your nonchalance earned a scream from the young boy and a tired sigh from April.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The headache was a full-blown migraine at this point, between Abe and Kate arguing on your couch, to your mom and Cecil drinking the wine, and watching them both like a cheap telenovela, to Mark and Oliver trying to sneak toward the backyard to play- You should have taken a nap. Faked your death. Moved to another universe. Do anything but be here right now, especially as Nolan will be coming back with Thragg and Grandpa Morgan soon.

Your eyes moved to Cecil. “Who the fuck is Paul?” But before he could answer, Kate jumps in. “And what are we doing here, with her?!” And that earns a sputter from you. “You’re asking me? You three just walked in like you owned the place! Ma, why’d you let the old fart just walk in with these two?!”

“I let your old fart stay for months.” Was Debbie’s only reply as she looked at the Immortal. Your hands settled on your hips as you couldn’t argue against that, however, Kate sure had a lot of things to say about it. “Alright- enough of the yelling-“ You whine. “Honestly, if anyone should be worried, it’s him. There’s a bigger chance of me being interested in you-“

“Which I’m not!” You spewed out as fast as you could at the look everyone gave you, hands raised in a surrendering manner in front of you. “Honestly, I don’t see what y’all see in each other! He’s spineless with a clear sub and domme kink, and you’re self-centered and controlling- oh…” Now that you said all that out loud… It checked out. “Doesn’t matter- I’m giving you two homework! Kate, go talk to Eve. if Rex can fix that mess, so can you. You need a friend who’ll be objective. Abe, go to Samson, you also need an objective friend, and a man, because clearly, you don’t listen to me. Now, get out of my house! The Viltrumites are bound to come any minute now, and y’all are stressing me out.”

Both Kate and the Immortal wanted to argue some more, but with one last yell, they scampered off. “Cecil, don’t-“ the man barely breathed before you jumped on him, telling him to shut up while walking upstairs to your room. “I wasn’t even going to say anything…” The balding man pouted.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Richard “Dick” Grayson was the favorite sibling.

That’s what he thought at least. Damian liked him, Jason admired him at one point, Tim and the girls respected him- well… the girls did. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the best role model, but he was a great, understanding sibling- he just wished he was that sibling to you, too, before this mess.

It’s not that he didn’t want to- it’s just that the wound of losing his parents was too fresh to also get attached to you… What if he lost you, too? But then again, he got attached to Bruce and the others quite quickly. He carelessly gave the others the attention you fought for, a desperate attempt to bury the guilt and shame of how he treated you, of how much he hurt you.

Richard was ashamed of many things. His cheating and complete fear of commitment, the way he got so angry at Jason when Bruce was the one who replaced him with another soldier, the way he always found a way to make you cry before his attention shifted to Jason. He was the angry Robin, the one who would have killed his parents’ killer if it wasn’t for Bruce, the one who punched harder than the man for his first year as a vigilante, he was the one who yelled at you, who mocked you for wanting Bruce’s attention.

Richard “Dick” Grayson was full of excuses.

Anyone watching from an outside perspective could see just how much the man has lost it. He knew what he did, how much he deliberately hurt you because of childish jealousy. You lost your mom, sure, but your dad was still there, Bruce was still breathing, and the teen just couldn’t see that Bruce was more of a father to him than to you. It was all excuses. He knew better, he wasn’t like that with the others. He could say it was the fact that he grew up, but even at fifteen years old, he knew better.

Something about you just rubbed him the wrong way, perhaps it was how unbothered you seemed. But then again, he found you crying more times than he could remember you smiling. Maybe it was the way he could only speak to you nicely when others were around, maybe it was the way you so easily dropped him once Jason came around, because the boy could speak to you without making you cry in seconds. He was so angry when you stopped acknowledging him.

Richard “Dick” Grayson knew he was a terrible brother to you.

And yet his mind decided that his memories were wrong. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying because of someone else- a bully or Bruce- and you just wanted your big brother to console you. Completely erasing from his mind that you were home-schooled and that you barely saw glimpses of the big bat.

You didn’t give Jason your attention because he was somewhat kinder than him, no. You gave him attention because you wanted Dick to be jealous. You didn’t flinch and made yourself smaller because of fear of him, of how he always found a way to chip at your confidence, you were just cold, shivering, and he should have wrapped you in a blanket and cuddled with you.

Damian could see how his guilt, anger, and shame wrapped his mind, deluding him into creating fantasies madder than the Joker. And maybe he slipped into old habits when he manipulated Dick with whispered lies into doing what he did, pulling on the man’s heartstrings like a puppet, but Damian was sure he had everything under control. Everything will be fine, will be going according to plan- he was sure.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You had one ear on Cecil and your mom and brother talking about Oliver and his little hiding his powers stunt, but your eyes were fully on your father and the two older Viltrumites. Nolan was stressed just by being in the presence of those two, his eye was twitching as he spoke, jumping from Thragg to Conquest. “And mostly, we’ll be the ones taking care to ensure your integration –“

“You’ll ensure his integration on earth-“ You corrected Nolan while waving your hand dismissively in Thragg’s direction. “I’m taking responsibility for Grandpa Morgan, that’s all I signed up for. That- that’s all your problem.” Your father almost whined as he said your name. “No. Your circus, your monkey. I’ll be here on and off, anyway, since I’ve decided it’d be a better start for him in a less stimulating environment that’ll keep my boy entertained but calm.”

“I need a favor. Urgently.” Cecil’s voice cut off Conquest’s huffing about being called a boy, like he’s some kind of pet. “You always need something, Cecil.” You snort, trying to rub the headache away. “Doc Seismic has kidnapped every hero available, except for you two and Atom Eve, to an underground location.” Mark hisses under his breath at the information, excusing himself to go and get Eve.

“…Oh.” Your hands move to your hips as you pout at Cecil, choking on your words a bit at the deadpanned way he informed you two. “You- could have started with that... Just saying.” Turning back to the Viltrumites, you clear your throat and pat Thragg’s arm. “Alright, you two, get ready to work-“ Cecil frowned, protesting at the idea of the two wild cards that were Conquest. “Doc kidnapped about- like, what? 80% of the heroes, 99% of the heroes that work for you. Either he unlocked some new powers, or someone’s helping him. I’d rather be overprepared.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your intuition was right. What you didn’t expect, however, was to see Darkwing Two and the Reanimen.. And you didn’t expect the unphased way Cecil acted about it. “Go home, Mark, before you do something you'll regret.” He stated, stopping inside the white room.

“Are you threatening my brother, Cecil?” At your question, the two Viltrumites immediately tensed, moving closer to you and Mark, ready for a fight as they were already on edge from seeing more of the Reanimen moving around them. “No.” Cecil’s face was as blank as ever as you interrupted him, hissing how it sounded like it. He just doubled down. “You gave the Viltrumites a chance, why not give them one too?”

“It’s not giving them a chance when you’re brainwashing them. The Viltrumites have been presented with a deal, they accepted, they’re trying out of their own volition, and they know what will happen if they misstep. Darkwing and Sinclair have become puppets you probably can control with the press of a button. They don’t have a choice, not like Doc Seismic, not like Titan, not like the Viltrumites.”

“And you are threatening us. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be surrounded by these alleged donations to Mr. Sinclair's work.” Cecil’s jaw twitched. You weren’t supposed to see them, Mark sure as hell didn’t, not when he swiveled his head around trying to catch a glimpse of the undead men. “Magic opens a lot of sense up.”

“We’ll leave-“ You placed your hand on Mark’s shoulder, gently pulling him away, but your brother wasn’t having it. “What else are you hiding here? Who else is working for you, the Joker?!” At his outburst, Cecil just leaned back slightly. “The white room is for my protection.” Those words ticked Mark and you off, making the young Viltrumite huff. “Protection from what?”

“Protection from you, Mark. From you, both.”

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Sneak peek ch 30:

Your eyes move to the Immortal and Kate. “And third, you two are beyond pathetic.” Rex snorted at the comment, unable to keep it in from shock, but no one else was willing to comment or argue on it. “You’re angy-“ Abe was trying to placate you, to redirect your emotions. “Yes. I’m also terrified. At how easy it was for him to sneak something so deadly into my brother, a boy who’s only been on our side, and at how easy it is for you to deem it as right, not willing to see the bigger imagine.”

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