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ijustmissyouraccenths · 5 months ago

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It’s You

Where Y/N’s chaotic energy clashes with her grumpy, tattooed neighbor, her mission to get on his good side turns into stolen glances, quiet moments, and a connection she never expected.

Au Harry

Word count: 13,395

Content warning: Cursing, smut, alcohol.

The warm glow of string lights illuminated Y/N’s cozy Los Angeles apartment as the sound of laughter filled the air. The small space was a mix of bohemian chic and personal touches—a gallery wall of polaroids, a cluttered coffee table covered with open bags of snacks, and a few empty wine bottles standing like trophies from their earlier indulgence.

Y/N flopped back onto the couch, a glass of red wine in hand, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and nonstop giggling. Her two best friends, Harper and Lila, sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking on popcorn and chips, fully embracing the childlike joy of their adult sleepover.

“This feels so right,” Y/N said, her voice slightly tipsy. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

“Because we’re responsible adults now, remember?” Harper teased, adjusting her oversized hoodie. “Nine-to-five, bills, and pretending we know what we’re doing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lila quipped, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “I’m thriving in my chaos era.”

Y/N snorted, and Harper rolled her eyes with an affectionate grin. Lila was the wild card of the group, always coming up with unpredictable ideas. And she didn’t disappoint tonight.

“You know what we should do?” Lila suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Karaoke.”

“Yes!” Harper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, yes. Do you still have that mic we bought for New Year’s Eve?”

Y/N groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her fake reluctance. “You mean the mic that nearly got us evicted? Of course, I still have it.”

Lila grinned wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s wake up the entire building with our stunning renditions of 2000s throwbacks.”

Without waiting for further approval, Lila dashed to the hall closet and pulled out the karaoke mic, triumphantly waving it in the air. Harper grabbed her phone, already scrolling through a playlist.

“You’re starting,” Harper declared, pointing the mic at Y/N.

“What? No!” Y/N laughed, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m not ready!”

“Too bad,” Lila said, shoving the mic into Y/N’s hands. “You can’t escape destiny. Pick your song.”

Y/N sighed theatrically before smirking. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when your ears bleed.”

As Y/N queued up Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, the room erupted in cheers. The first few notes played, and soon enough, Y/N was belting out the lyrics with unrestrained enthusiasm, her friends joining in for the chorus. It didn’t matter that they were slightly off-key; in that moment, they were superstars in their own private concert.

Wine glasses were forgotten, snacks spilled, and every lyric was sung at full volume. It was the kind of night they’d remember for years—a reminder that no matter how grown-up they pretended to be, some things never lost their magic.

The girls were in full swing, harmonizing (poorly) to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Lila stood on the couch holding the mic as if she were performing at Madison Square Garden, while Harper played air guitar with a half-empty wine bottle. Y/N was doubled over in laughter, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Just as they hit the iconic, “Tell me why—” part, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through their drunken fun like a record scratch. The girls froze, their voices trailing off mid-note. Y/N straightened up, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Harper and Lila.

“Uh… did someone order pizza?” Lila whispered, her voice unsure.

“Nope,” Y/N said, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

With a mix of nerves and annoyance, Y/N padded to the door. She peered through the peephole and groaned. It was her new neighbor, Harry. She’d only exchanged a polite “hello” with him in passing, but he’d already struck her as the brooding, grumpy type.

Bracing herself, she opened the door.

There he stood: tall, disheveled hair pushed back in a lazy attempt at taming it, wearing a faded gray hoodie and black joggers. His sharp green eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed face and the muffled chaos behind her.

“Good evening,” he started, his British accent dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying your concert tonight. It’s like living next door to a live music venue. Only… worse.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by his dry humor. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that. We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”

Harry crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I figured. Thought I’d come over before I lost the ability to hear entirely.”

From behind her, Lila’s voice chimed in drunkenly. “Is it a noise complaint? Tell him to sing with us!”

Y/N turned and shot Lila a glare. Harper muffled a laugh.

Y/N sighed and looked back at Harry. “We’ll keep it down. Promise.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching into the faintest smirk, though his tone remained gruff. “Appreciated. Just… try not to turn it into a full-on festival.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Y/N couldn’t help herself. “You know, you could’ve just sent a passive-aggressive text or something.”

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, one brow arched. “I thought this had more impact.”

And then he was gone.

Y/N closed the door, leaning her forehead against it for a moment. When she turned around, Lila and Harper were staring at her like she’d just walked off the set of a rom-com.

“Um, who was that?” Lila asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Harry. My new neighbor,” Y/N replied, walking back to the couch.

“And Mr. Grumpy Pants is cute,” Harper added, grinning.

Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute and cranky. Now can we please move on before you two start planning a love story?”

But the mischievous glint in her friends’ eyes told her they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.

The karaoke mic had been put away, and the girls now lounged in the cozy living room, passing a bottle of wine between them. The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed, but the energy was still warm and lively. Lila was sprawled on the couch with her legs dangling over Harper’s lap, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from her glass.

“I mean, let’s just talk about him for a second,” Lila began, her voice dramatic. “The mopey neighbor with the accent? And did you see those tattoos? They were peeking out, Y/N. He’s giving mysterious bad boy energy.”

Y/N groaned, her cheeks warming instantly. “Oh my God, Lila. He was literally just here to tell us to shut up.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Harper chimed in, grinning. “He has that whole ‘I’m grumpy but secretly charming’ vibe. Like, did you see the way he smirked when he made that little joke?”

Y/N tried to hide her flustered reaction by taking another sip of wine, but she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. She’d noticed too—his smirk, his sharp jawline, the tattoos curling up his forearm, just barely visible under his hoodie sleeves. She’d noticed everything.

“I mean, he’s okay, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, keeping her tone nonchalant.

“Okay?” Lila shot up, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re lying. You’re the worst liar ever.”

“Shut up,” Y/N said, laughing as she buried her face in her hands. “Fine, he’s cute. So what? He’s also my neighbor, and he’s probably annoyed with me forever now.”

“He’s not annoyed,” Harper said, nudging her with her foot. “If he were, he wouldn’t have made the effort to come over himself. He would’ve sent an email to management or something. He wanted an excuse to see you.”

“Right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Because nothing’s more attractive than a drunk girl singing Backstreet Boys at full volume.”

“Exactly!” Lila exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “You’re memorable. He’ll never forget you now.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Harper said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I bet he thinks you’re cute too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly changed the subject. But as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the image of Harry standing in her doorway, his messy hair, his smirk, and those tattoos. Maybe her friends weren’t entirely wrong.

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Y/N’s apartment, illuminating the chaos left behind from the night before. Wine glasses, half-eaten snacks, and the abandoned karaoke mic were scattered around the living room. The girls were tangled up in blankets, sprawled across the couch and the floor like a scene from a sitcom.

Y/N was the first to stir, groaning as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Harper was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow over her head, while Lila lay on the floor in a makeshift nest of cushions, one arm dramatically draped over her face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Y/N teased, nudging Lila with her foot.

Lila groaned. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal to be this alive right now.”

Harper peeked out from under her pillow, her voice muffled. “What time is it? Do we even have the energy to exist today?”

“Barely,” Y/N replied, standing and stretching. “But I’m starving, so I’m making breakfast. Come help me.”

Harper and Lila grumbled but eventually dragged themselves up and into the kitchen, where Y/N was already cracking eggs into a bowl. Together, they whipped up a chaotic but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mountain of coffee.

The girls sat around the small dining table, eating in comfortable silence at first. Then Lila broke the quiet with a wicked grin.

“So… Harry.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Not again.”

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Lila said, smirking. “Next time we do this, we should make it even louder. Really make him come back over.”

Harper snorted into her coffee. “Yes! Like, full-blown karaoke night but with amps and disco lights.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are the worst.”

“But you love us,” Harper said, nudging her with an elbow.

After breakfast, the girls cleaned up and packed their things before heading out. Harper hugged Y/N tightly. “We definitely need to do this again.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Louder next time. You know, for research purposes.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she walked them to the door. “You’re both insane, but I love you. Drive safe.”

Once they were gone, Y/N flopped onto the couch and opened their group chat. Almost immediately, messages started flooding in.

Lila: Next sleepover, let’s bring a fog machine. If Harry shows up, we’ll just act like it’s a concert.

Harper: Or we could rent a spotlight. Make it an event

Y/N: You guys are unbelievable. No more wine for you next time.

Lila: Admit it, you want him to show up again.

Y/N: …maybe.

Harper: KNEW IT.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her phone, her cheeks warming yet again. As ridiculous as her friends were, they weren’t entirely wrong.

The day passed in a blur of cleaning and tidying as Y/N tried to get her apartment back to its usual organized state. By the time the sun started to dip low in the sky, the chaos from the night before had been erased, leaving her apartment looking like a picture of calm domesticity. Feeling accomplished, Y/N decided to check her mailbox before settling in for a quiet evening.

She padded down to the mailroom in her building, dressed in a casual but presentable outfit—high-waisted jeans and a simple white top. As she rifled through the usual junk mail and a couple of bills, the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention.

Glancing to the side, she saw Harry walking in, his hoodie replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His tattoos were on full display now—intricate designs that wound up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. He barely glanced at her as he moved to his mailbox, unlocking it with practiced ease.

Y/N swallowed her nerves and decided to seize the moment. It was better to make a proper introduction now than to let the awkwardness from last night linger. Turning slightly toward him, she cleared her throat.

“Hey, neighbor,” she began, keeping her tone light. “Figured I should introduce myself officially now that I’m not, you know, half-drunk and screaming karaoke at midnight. I’m Y/N.”

Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, as he gave her a quick once-over. “Harry,” he said simply, his voice low and clipped.

Y/N bit back a grin, determined not to let his gruff demeanor throw her off. “Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry again about last night. I promise we don’t usually host impromptu concerts. Unless, of course, you’re a fan of boy band throwbacks.”

Harry let out a soft exhale that could’ve been a laugh—or just a sigh. “I’ll survive.”

Encouraged by the hint of amusement, Y/N decided to keep the conversation going. “You know, if you’re ever feeling nostalgic, you’re welcome to join us. We could use a fourth member for our extremely off-key girl group.”

Harry’s lips twitched slightly, but his expression remained mostly stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Y/N tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “You’re really hard to read, you know that? Most people at least chuckle at my jokes.”

Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and calm. “Maybe I’m just not most people.”

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. There was something almost challenging in his tone, but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it piqued her curiosity even more.

“Well, Harry,” she said finally, flashing him a bright smile. “Challenge accepted. I’ll make you laugh one of these days.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead closing his mailbox and tucking the letters under his arm. As he moved to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

“We’ll see about that.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her stack of mail and a strange mix of frustration and intrigue swirling in her chest. One thing was for sure—Harry might be grumpy, but he was far from boring.

As soon as Y/N got back to her apartment, she tossed her mail onto the counter and grabbed her phone, already smirking to herself. She opened the group chat with Harper and Lila, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Y/N:

Guess who I just ran into in the mailroom?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with replies.

Lila:

Was it… oh, I don’t know… Mr. Grumpy Hot Neighbor?

Harper:

Harry! Tell us everything right now.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, typing out her reply.

Y/N:

Yes, it was Harry. I introduced myself properly. You know, as a fully functional adult and not a drunken mess.

Lila:

And? Did he swoon? Did he drop all his mail and propose on the spot?

Harper:

Or at least crack a smile?

Y/N sighed and leaned back against the counter, smirking to herself as she typed.

Y/N:

Absolutely not. He was… well, Harry. Polite but distant. He might’ve almost smiled, but I can’t be sure.

Lila:

Ugh, he’s really sticking to the mysterious moody thing. It’s so hot. What did you say to him?

Y/N:

I told him he was hard to read and said I’d make him laugh one day.

Harper:

Bold move, I love it. What did he say?

Y/N:

He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’

Lila:

STOP. That’s basically flirting.

Harper:

Right? That’s flirty! Subtle, broody flirting.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. It wasn’t flirting. He’s just… like that.

Lila:

Y/N, this is your rom-com moment, and you’re living in denial. Grumpy guy + sunshine girl is literally a trope for a reason.

Harper:

Exactly. Next step: get him to join us for karaoke.

Y/N:

Oh, sure, because he definitely seems like the kind of guy who wants to sing ‘Toxic’ with us.

Lila:

You never know. Maybe he has a secret karaoke voice that’ll blow us all away.

Y/N laughed to herself, shaking her head. Her friends were relentless, but she couldn’t deny that their enthusiasm made her smile. As much as she tried to brush off the encounter, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head—the way Harry’s green eyes lingered just a second too long, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

It had been a couple of weeks since Y/N’s encounter with Harry in the mailroom, and she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind. Between work, friends, and her usual routine, she hadn’t bumped into him in the halls or around the building. Life went on, and the memory of his grumpy smirk became just another amusing anecdote to share with Harper and Lila.

Until one night.

Y/N was jolted awake by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Disoriented and groggy, she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over her pajama tank top. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door. The hallway was chaotic, filled with neighbors in various states of sleepiness and confusion, all heading for the exits.

Once outside, Y/N joined the crowd of residents gathering on the sidewalk. The chilly night air bit at her skin, and she crossed her arms to keep warm. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone she knew—until her eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.

It was Harry. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and he wore a hoodie over loose sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. His expression was pure exhaustion, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She made her way over, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Harry turned his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “This is… unexpected.” He waved his hand around.

She grinned, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But hey, at least it’s the fire alarms being obnoxiously loud this time and not me.”

Harry’s lips twitched, and for a second, she thought she’d finally gotten him to crack a smile. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked dryly.

“Never,” Y/N replied, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s too good of a story.”

Harry exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a fire truck pulled up and a couple of firefighters headed inside to investigate. The air was crisp and carried a faint chill, but Y/N barely noticed. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you think it’s an actual fire?” she asked.

“Doubt it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Probably just someone burning their midnight snack.”

“Sounds like a riveting Saturday night,” Y/N joked, earning another small exhale from him.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing down at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, and Y/N could feel her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it cool.

“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “If it turns out to be a drill, I’m demanding a formal apology from management for ruining my beauty sleep.”

Harry’s lips quirked, just enough for her to notice. “I’m sure they’ll get right on that.”

For the first time, standing outside in the middle of the night with Harry didn’t feel awkward or forced. It was easy, natural even, despite his perpetually tired and broody demeanor. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe her persistence was finally wearing him down.

Before either of them could say more, a firefighter emerged from the building, shouting to the crowd that it was a false alarm. People groaned, some laughing as they shuffled back toward the entrance.

Harry pushed off the lamppost and looked at Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue.”

“Looks like it,” she said. “Catch you later, Harry.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Night, Y/N.”

As she headed back to her apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction. Sure, he was still grumpy, but she was getting closer to breaking through. And honestly, she didn’t mind the challenge.

By the time Y/N woke up the next morning, she had already drafted the text she knew Harper and Lila would demand. Still half-asleep, she grabbed her phone and opened their group chat, typing out the full story in detail.

Y/N:

So… guess who I bumped into at 3 a.m. when the fire alarm went off?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with rapid-fire responses.

Harper:

Oh my God. HARRY?

Lila:

Please tell me you were both standing there in your PJs like the meet-cute of the century.

Y/N:

No, it wasn’t a meet-cute. We just talked. Very normal. Nothing groundbreaking.

Harper:

What did you talk about?

Y/N:

I made a joke about how this time it wasn’t me being loud, it was the fire alarm.

Lila:

YES. Classic Y/N. What did he say?

Y/N:

He just… smirked. Or sighed. I’m honestly not sure anymore. He’s so hard to read.

Harper:

Smirking counts as flirting. I’m logging it.

Lila:

Definitely flirting. He wouldn’t have smirked if he wasn’t secretly interested. Men don’t waste smirks on people they don’t like.

Y/N:

Or he was just tired and didn’t care enough to argue.

Harper:

Nope. Not buying it. He’s interested. He’s just grumpy interested.

Lila:

Exactly! Brooding types like him don’t wear their feelings on their sleeves, but trust me, he’s intrigued. You just need to keep working on him.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.

Y/N:

You two are absolutely ridiculous. We talked for five minutes, tops. Nothing more, nothing less.

Harper:

Sure, keep telling yourself that.

Lila:

Face it, Y/N. This is your slow-burn romance, and we are here for it. We’re already planning the playlist for your wedding.

Y/N:

Oh my God. I can’t with you two.

Despite her protests, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind—the way his eyes lingered on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Harper and Lila were reading too much into it… weren’t they?

Shaking her head, Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She had no intention of indulging their wild theories. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her couldn’t help but wonder.

Y/N lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows cast by her bedside lamp on the ceiling. The city sounds outside her window were faint but constant—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of voices. She’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, her brain refusing to shut off.

It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was Harry.

It wasn’t intentional, or at least that’s what she told herself. She’d been trying to push him out of her mind all day, but now, in the stillness of the night, his image seemed to surface unbidden. The way his messy hair stuck out when she’d seen him by the mailboxes. The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, the intricate designs winding across his arms like a story she desperately wanted to read.

And then there was his face—sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to pierce through her defenses, and that faint smirk he’d given her last night when she’d cracked her fire alarm joke. It wasn’t a full smile, but it had been enough to spark something in her. Something she couldn’t quite shake.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.

But it was no use. She kept thinking about the way his voice sounded—low, calm, almost soothing in its quiet confidence. The way he seemed perpetually unimpressed but not unkind, like he was holding back a part of himself from the world. And the way, despite all that grumpiness, she felt drawn to him.

The worst part was that she barely even knew him. A few brief encounters, a handful of words exchanged—it wasn’t enough to warrant this level of overthinking. And yet, here she was, wide awake at 2 a.m., her thoughts spinning in circles around a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her at all.

She sighed, flipping onto her back again and staring at the ceiling. “You’re losing it, Y/N,” she whispered into the dark.

But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself—counting sheep, replaying her favorite movie in her head, anything—her mind kept drifting back to Harry. How frustratingly attractive he was. How much she wanted to figure him out. And how, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she kind of liked the challenge.

The next afternoon, Y/N tied her apron around her waist and stepped onto the floor of the bustling Italian restaurant where she worked. The warm scent of garlic, fresh basil, and baking bread filled the air as the sounds of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations hummed around her. It was her favorite kind of shift—steady but not overwhelming, just busy enough to keep her energized.

She loved being a server. There was something satisfying about knowing the menu by heart, from the way the chef perfectly folded the handmade ravioli to the rich, velvety tiramisu that always left customers raving. She enjoyed the rhythm of it all: taking orders, making guests laugh, weaving between tables like she was part of a well-rehearsed dance.

By the time her shift ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets. Y/N slipped her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her coworkers, and began her short walk home.

The evening was warm, the kind of weather that made her glad she’d chosen this neighborhood to live in. She liked the convenience of being close to work, the charm of the old brick buildings, and the occasional vendor selling flowers or roasted nuts on the sidewalk.

But as she rounded the last corner toward her apartment building, the sky darkened suddenly. Heavy clouds rolled in overhead, and before she could process what was happening, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

“Seriously?” Y/N muttered, looking up at the sky as if it might offer her an explanation. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a full-on downpour. She didn’t have an umbrella, of course—it had been sunny when she left for work—and now she was too far from the restaurant to go back.

She quickened her pace, pulling her bag closer to her body to shield it from the rain. Her hair was already plastered to her forehead, and her clothes clung to her as the rain soaked through. She groaned in frustration but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

By the time her apartment building came into view, she was drenched. She jogged the last stretch, her sneakers splashing in puddles, and darted toward the lobby entrance. As she reached for the door, it opened from the inside—and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry.

Of course, it was Harry.

He was holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, taking in her rain-soaked appearance.

“Rough night?” he asked, his voice dry but laced with faint amusement.

Y/N brushed a wet strand of hair out of her face, shaking water from her arms. “You could say that. Apparently, the weather decided I needed a shower.”

Harry stepped back, holding the door open for her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Thanks for the observation,” Y/N said with a wry smile as she stepped inside, water pooling around her feet. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded toward the elevators. “You should probably get upstairs before you flood the lobby.”

“Wow, you’re so thoughtful,” she teased, her sarcasm barely masking the warmth in her voice.

Harry didn’t reply, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a comment. He stepped aside, letting her pass, and as Y/N headed toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. He was still standing by the door, his attention now on the rain outside, but she could’ve sworn she caught him sneaking a glance at her as she walked away.

Y/N stepped into her apartment, water dripping onto the floor as she kicked off her soaked sneakers. She stripped off her rain-soaked clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was bliss, washing away the chill of the rain and the lingering frustration of getting caught in it. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin was warm and her mind was clearer.

Slipping into her favorite pair of soft pajamas—shorts and an oversized t-shirt—she towel-dried her hair and grabbed her phone from the counter. She hadn’t checked it since leaving work, and the screen lit up with a few notifications. Most were unimportant, but one text made her freeze.

Unknown Number:

Hey, it’s Harry. Got your number from the resident book. Hope that’s okay. I, uh, ordered way too much food. If you’re not busy and don’t mind eating with someone who’s terrible at small talk, you’re welcome to join me.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry had texted her? She stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times, unsure what to make of it. The grumpy, brooding neighbor had gone out of his way to invite her over for dinner?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say. She could easily come up with an excuse, blame the rain, or even politely decline. But something about his message—how he’d gone through the trouble of looking up her number and even made a self-deprecating joke—made her hesitate.

Finally, she started typing.

Y/N:

Hey! I’m surprised you didn’t mention how loud I was running through the lobby earlier. I’d love to join, but fair warning: I’m in my pajamas. I’ll bring wine to make up for it.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself and immediately got up to rummage through her small wine rack. She picked out a bottle of red, grabbed her favorite corkscrew, and texted him again.

Y/N:

Give me five minutes to make myself look less like a wet dog.

His response came almost instantly.

Harry:

I wouldn’t have said anything about the lobby, but now that you’ve brought it up�� five minutes works. Apartment 4D.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. She quickly towel-dried her hair a little more, tossed it into a loose bun, and grabbed the wine. As she stood by her door, nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she pushed them aside.

Whatever this was—neighborly dinner, an olive branch, or something else—she was curious enough to find out.

Y/N stepped out of her apartment, the bottle of wine in hand, and made her way to the elevator. As she descended a floor, her nerves started to tingle, though she shook them off. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner with her neighbor. Her very attractive, grumpy neighbor with tattoos and a British accent. Nothing to overthink at all.

When she reached Harry’s door, she raised her hand to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Harry stood there, leaning casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised.

“I could hear you coming down the hall,” he said, his tone dry but his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

Y/N let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re happy to see me.”

“Something like that,” he replied, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N walked in, glancing around as she entered. Harry’s apartment was similar in layout to hers but had an entirely different vibe. The walls were painted a deep, moody gray, with shelves lined with books, records, and a few small plants that looked suspiciously well cared for. A guitar rested in the corner by the window, and the faint smell of takeout wafted from the small kitchen.

“Nice place,” she said, setting the wine on the counter. “Very… broody chic. Fits you.”

Harry arched a brow as he closed the door. “Broody chic? Is that a compliment?”

“Depends how you take it,” Y/N shot back with a grin.

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he moved toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I may have overestimated how much I can eat on my own.”

She followed him, glancing at the spread on the counter. There were containers of what looked like Thai food—pad thai, green curry, fried rice, and spring rolls. Definitely enough for two, if not three.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “Planning on feeding the whole building?”

“Only the loudest resident,” he said, smirking again.

She gave him a playful glare before grabbing plates from the counter and handing him one. “Lucky for you, I came prepared,” she said, holding up the wine. “This should balance things out.”

As they settled at the small table, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Harry seemed. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something softer about him tonight. Less guarded. And as they started eating, trading sarcastic comments and occasional small talk, she realized she didn’t mind the challenge of cracking through his tough exterior one bit.

Harry handed Y/N two wine glasses, their fingers brushing briefly as she took them. He didn’t say anything, but his lips moved slightly as if he was trying not to smirk. Y/N poured the wine, filling each glass just enough before sliding one over to him.

Meanwhile, he plated the food, carefully dividing the dishes between two plates. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, and Y/N found herself watching him for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking herself out of it, she grabbed her glass and followed him to the bar counter.

They sat side by side, the warm glow of the pendant light above them casting a cozy atmosphere. Y/N took a sip of her wine, her gaze flicking to Harry as he started eating in silence.

For a while, she stayed quiet, enjoying the food and the unspoken rhythm of their shared meal. But her curiosity got the better of her. Setting her glass down, she turned toward him slightly, resting her elbow on the counter.

“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “why are you always so grumpy?”

Harry paused mid-bite, his fork hovering over his plate as he looked at her. His green eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but as if he were trying to decide how serious she was.

“Grumpy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, grumpy,” she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You know, the whole emo, barely-smiling, ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense’ vibe you’ve got going on. Is it like… your thing?”

Harry leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his wine as he considered her question. “Maybe I’m not grumpy,” he said finally, his voice calm. “Maybe you’re just too… cheerful.”

“Cheerful?” she echoed, laughing softly. “That’s your explanation? I’m cheerful, so that automatically makes you grumpy?”

“Something like that,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re deflecting.”

He raised his glass, meeting her gaze over the rim as he took another sip. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning in slightly. “There’s got to be a reason. I mean, you’re not actuallymiserable all the time, are you?”

Harry sighed, setting his glass down and leaning his forearms on the counter. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he shrugged.

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, his voice quieter. “I just… don’t see the point in pretending all the time. People put on this front like everything’s great, but most of the time, it’s not. I’m just… honest about it.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something unspoken but heavy, like he was revealing more than he intended.

“Well,” she said softly, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think being happy is the same as pretending. And I’m not pretending.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply.

Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Y/N picked up her glass and raised it toward him.

“To being honest,” she said with a small smile.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her glass before he picked up his own, clinking it against hers. “To being honest,” he echoed.

And for the first time that evening, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.

Harry swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the deep red liquid for a moment before setting it down and looking at Y/N. His expression was more open now, his usual guarded demeanor softened.

“You seem nice enough,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I could use a friend around here.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Then a warm smile spread across her face.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” she said, her voice light with humor. “I thought for sure you hated me after the whole karaoke fiasco.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in amusement. “Hated you? No. Annoyed, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.”

“Good to know,” Y/N said, laughing softly. “Because I was convinced you’d written me off as the world’s loudest neighbor.”

“I’ll admit,” Harry said, smirking now, “the karaoke was… a lot. But it’s hard to hate someone who sings ‘I Want It That Way’ with that much enthusiasm.”

Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing harder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember the song. That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s unforgettable,” he said with mock seriousness, taking another sip of wine.

When her laughter died down, Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I’d be happy to be your friend. You don’t seem as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Scary?” Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘grumpy lone wolf’ thing going on. It’s a little intimidating.”

Harry shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not scary.”

“No,” Y/N said, grinning. “You’re not. You’re just… Harry.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he nodded, his tone soft but certain. “Yeah. Just Harry.”

As they continued eating, the conversation grew lighter, the initial tension between them fading into something comfortable. By the time they finished their meal, Y/N realized that beneath Harry’s gruff exterior was someone she genuinely wanted to know better. And judging by the way his smirk had softened into something warmer, she suspected he felt the same.

After finishing their plates, Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his forearm on the bar counter as he glanced at Y/N. There was a comfortable silence between them, one she hadn’t expected when she first showed up at his door.

“Thanks for coming over,” he said finally, his tone quieter but sincere. “I don’t usually… do this.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, swirling her wine in her glass. “What? Order too much food or invite people over?”

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “The second one. I’m not exactly the ‘neighborly dinner’ type.”

“Well, I feel special then,” she teased, tilting her head at him. “Although, if you’re not usually this social, why’d you invite me? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

Harry shrugged, glancing down at his glass. “You seemed… different. I don’t know. Most people I meet just seem fake, like they’re putting on a show. But you’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Real.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words. “Oh,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, thanks. I think.”

“I mean it,” Harry added, looking at her directly now. “You’re… not what I expected when I moved here. In a good way.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she tried to play it off with humor. “Careful, Harry. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

“Don’t push it,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes were softer than usual.

They fell into another comfortable silence, sipping their wine and letting the moment stretch out. Y/N felt herself relax more with each passing second, realizing how easy it was to be around him now that some of his walls had come down.

After a moment, she broke the quiet. “You know, for someone who claims not to be social, you’re pretty good company.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she said, her grin widening. “You should let yourself be social more often. You might surprise yourself.”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “One step at a time.”

They shared a small laugh, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point. Whatever Harry had been holding back before, he was letting her in now, even if only a little. It felt… nice.

Eventually, she glanced at her phone and realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably head back,” she said, setting her empty wine glass down. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Harry stood as she got up, shaking his head. “You haven’t. But… thanks for coming. I mean it.”

She smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Anytime, Harry.”

As she walked to the door, he followed her, leaning casually against the frame as she turned back to face him. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice lighter now.

“Night, Y/N,” he replied, his smirk returning.

She headed back to her apartment, her heart unexpectedly lighter. Maybe Harry wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed—or maybe she was just getting used to it. Either way, she found herself smiling as she closed her door behind her. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overthinking anything.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight filtering through her blinds and a faint smile lingering on her lips. The night before with Harry had been… unexpected, but not in a bad way. She stretched, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately opened her group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

So, guess what? Harry invited me over for dinner last night.

It didn’t take long for her phone to explode with notifications.

Lila:

WHAT. DETAILS NOW.

Harper:

DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite being alone.

Y/N:

No, I didn’t sleep with him. Calm down.

Lila:

Boring. But continue.

Harper:

Okay, but like, did it feel like it was going there?

Y/N:

No! It wasn’t like that. He said he had too much food and could use a friend, so I brought wine, and we had dinner. That’s it.

Lila:

You brought wine. That’s a date move.

Harper:

Right? Totally a date.

Y/N:

It wasn’t a date. We ate at his bar counter, talked a little, and that’s all. But…

Lila:

BUT WHAT?!

Harper:

Spill, Y/N. Don’t make us beg.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip as she typed out her next message.

Y/N:

Okay, fine. I wouldn’t mind if something happened, but it’s not like I know much about him. I don’t even know what he does for work.

Lila:

Oh my God. You want to bang the mysterious, tattooed neighbor. I KNEW IT.

Harper:

This is your grumpy/sunshine romance, and we are living for it.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. I’m just saying he’s attractive, okay? That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.

Lila:

It’ll happen. The sexual tension alone is probably unbearable.

Harper:

Agreed. You just need to ask him questions about himself. What he does for work, what his favorite food is, if he’s single—

Lila:

Definitely ask the last one. For research purposes.

Y/N groaned, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.

Y/N:

You two are impossible. But fine, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll try to find out more about him. Happy?

Harper:

Ecstatic.

Lila:

Can’t wait to hear how this unfolds. We’re already planning the wedding playlist.

Y/N laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. Her friends were relentless, but they weren’t wrong about one thing—she was curious about Harry. And as much as she tried to deny it, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… or seeing where this strange connection between them might lead.

Later that month Y/N walked into her apartment after a long day, expecting the usual cozy warmth to greet her. Instead, an icy chill hit her the moment she stepped inside. She frowned, rubbing her arms and heading straight for the thermostat. She fiddled with it for a minute, but no matter what she did, the heater refused to turn on.

“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t unbearably cold outside, but inside her apartment, it felt like a freezer.

With no other options, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t know many people in the building—just Harry, really. And as much as she hesitated, her fingers hovered over his name before she finally sent a text.

Y/N:

Hey, random question. Do you happen to have a small heater or something I can borrow? My heater’s broken, and it’s freezing in here.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Harry:

Why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve got heat, and I don’t own a portable heater.

Y/N stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Borrowing something was one thing, but staying at his place? She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Before she could overthink it, she typed out a response.

Y/N:

Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

His reply was quick.

Harry:

You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s better than you freezing to death in your apartment. Bring whatever you need.

She bit her lip, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in her chest. Finally, she grabbed a bag and threw in some essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a few other things—before bundling up and heading out.

When she reached his door, she knocked softly. It opened almost immediately, and there was Harry, leaning against the frame with his usual calm demeanor.

“Figured you’d take me up on the offer,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Yeah, well, hypothermia didn’t sound appealing,” Y/N replied with a small smile, brushing past him into the warmth of his apartment.

As she set her bag down by the couch, she glanced at him. “Thanks for this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, closing the door. “No problem. It’s just one night.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, Harry. That almost sounded like you’re happy to have me here.”

He gave her a dry look but didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “You can take the couch if you want, or I can grab some extra blankets for the guest room.”

She looked at the couch, then back at him. “Guest room? You have a guest room?”

“Barely,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more of a storage room, but there’s a bed in there.”

“Well, as long as it’s warmer than my apartment, I’ll take it.”

Harry nodded, heading toward the hallway. “I’ll grab some blankets.”

As Harry disappeared down the hallway to grab blankets, Y/N called after him, her voice light and teasing. “By the way, I brought some wine as a thank-you! You know, for saving me from my frozen wasteland of an apartment.”

She heard him chuckle faintly, his voice drifting back from the other room. “Thoughtful of you. What kind?”

“Red. A classic, nothing too fancy,” she replied, smirking as she started to take the bottle out of her bag. “Figured you’d prefer something a little understated, given your whole ‘mysterious and broody’ vibe.”

Harry reappeared in the doorway, carrying a thick blanket over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you enjoy calling me broody a little too much.”

“Well, it fits,” she shot back, grinning. “Speaking of which, I realized something earlier—I don’t even know what you do for work. So, enlighten me, oh mysterious one. What is it that you do?”

Harry paused for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I own an art gallery,” he said simply, setting the blanket on the couch.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You own an art gallery?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Small place over in Silver Lake. Nothing flashy, just local artists and smaller exhibitions.”

She stared at him, her curiosity piqued. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“What did you see coming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, laughing softly. “Something more… I don’t know, corporate? Like sitting at a desk all day and brooding at spreadsheets.”

Harry actually laughed at that, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “Sorry to disappoint. No spreadsheets involved.”

“No, it’s not disappointing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just… unexpected. I mean, you own an art gallery. That’s cool. Artistic and grumpy? You’re full of surprises, Harry.”

He shook his head, but there was a faint warmth in his expression, like her enthusiasm had caught him off guard. “It’s just a business.”

“Just a business?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. That’s impressive.”

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze steady. “Thanks.”

They fell into a brief silence, and Y/N felt the air shift slightly. It wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt… comfortable. She gestured to the wine. “So, should we open this or what?”

Harry nodded, stepping into the kitchen to grab two glasses. “Why not? You’re my guest, after all.”

As he poured the wine, Y/N couldn’t help but think that for someone who seemed so guarded at first, Harry was slowly becoming an open book—one she was eager to keep reading.

Y/N leaned against the counter, swirling her glass of wine as she watched Harry pour his own. “So, how did you end up owning an art gallery?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean, that’s not exactly the most common career path.”

Harry took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful as he set the glass down. “I’ve always loved art. Painting, sketching… that sort of thing. But it’s not exactly the easiest way to make a living.”

Y/N nodded, understanding the struggle. “So, the gallery was a way to stay involved in the art world?”

“Something like that,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “I came into some money after my mom passed a few years ago. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to make me think about what I really wanted to do. I didn’t want to sit in an office or work for someone else. I wanted something that felt… personal. The gallery felt like the right choice.”

“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I mean, turning something you love into a business? Not many people can say they’ve done that.”

Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “It has its challenges, but I don’t regret it.”

Y/N smiled at him, feeling a new layer of respect for her neighbor. After a moment, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her. “What about you? What do you do?”

She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, nothing nearly as impressive as you,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just a server. I work at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from here.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?” she asked, frowning.

“Like it’s nothing. You said you’re ‘just’ a server,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re in food service, right? That’s an art in itself. Just… a different kind.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his perspective. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

He nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Think about it. You’re part of creating an experience for people. The way the food’s presented, the way you interact with customers—it’s all part of the artistry. Doesn’t matter if it’s a painting on a wall or a plate of pasta. It’s still something people connect with.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over her. “That’s… actually really nice of you to say.”

“It’s true,” Harry said simply, his green eyes meeting hers. “Stop selling yourself short.”

She smiled, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone complains about their breadsticks not being warm enough.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Breadsticks or not, it sounds like you’re good at what you do.”

Y/N sipped her wine, the corners of her lips curving up.

Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, glancing at Harry over the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the conversation a little further. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “you have a really nice way of thinking about things. The way you look at art, even food… it’s kind of impressive.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Is that your way of saying I’m not just a grumpy neighbor?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small grin, her tone almost teasing. “But seriously, you’ve got a smart mind, Harry. You see things in a way most people don’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying her as if trying to figure out her angle. “Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”

She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “And if I was?”

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I’d say it’s about time you stopped pretending you find me intimidating.”

“I never said you intimidate me,” she shot back, her grin widening. “I said you have a grumpy vibe. Totally different.”

“Right,” he said, his tone dry but his smirk giving him away. “Good to know I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not even close,” Y/N replied, her voice confident now. She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him. “You’re not as scary as you think, Harry. In fact, I think you’re kind of… interesting.”

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“Right back at you,” she said, her gaze warm.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful banter was still there, but beneath it was something quieter, something unspoken. Y/N didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t in a hurry to break the moment.

Harry finally set his glass down, his expression softening just slightly. “Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

“Maybe I do,” she said simply, holding his gaze.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and for the first time, he didn’t deflect her comment. Instead, he just looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn’t look away.

The mood in the room shifted as Harry leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing as he said, "You wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her breath caught, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word.

"Try me," she challenged, her voice steady but laced with anticipation.

Harry's eyes darkened, the playful smirk on his lips giving way to something deeper, something more raw. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her throat-not gripping, just resting, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. The warmth of his touch made her heart race, and she felt her breath hitch as he leaned in closer.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rushed either-it was deliberate, like he'd been holding himself back and was finally letting go. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, and Y/N melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip the edge of the counter for balance.

She kissed him back just as fervently, tilting her head to deepen the connection. His fingers slid from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he couldn't get enough of her. The heat between them was undeniable, and in that moment, nothing else mattered-not the chill of her broken heater, not the wine, not the playful banter that had led them here.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Harry's green eyes searched hers, and for once, his usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found.

"Still think I can't handle you?" Y/N whispered, her voice a little breathless but tinged with humor.

Harry smirked, his hand still lingering at the nape of her neck.

"Guess I underestimated you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But l'm not done yet.”

Harry's hand slid down from Y/N's neck to her wrist, his grip firm but careful as he led her through his apartment toward his bedroom.

Her heart pounded in anticipation, her breath catching when he opened the door and gently but deliberately pushed her onto the bed.

Y/N gasped softly, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked up at him. The intensity in his green eyes made her pulse race, and the energy between them was electric, the room feeling heavier with every passing second.

Harry stepped closer, his movements slow and controlled, like he was savoring the moment.

He placed a hand on her throat again, this time with a gentle but deliberate squeeze that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her jawline as he leaned in, his voice low and commanding.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority and heat.

Y/N's breath hitched as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, so she let her actions speak for her, tilting her head slightly into his touch.

Harry smirked, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped even lower, a whisper that made her skin prickle with anticipation.

"I knew you would be," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive.

The words sent a jolt through her, and she felt her body react instinctively, her cheeks flushing as she surrendered to the moment.

Harry's lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, trailing down her neck as his hand stayed firmly but gently in place. Every movement felt deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of his attention.

Whatever control Y/N thought she had going into this was slipping fast, and the way Harry's touch consumed her made it clear—he knew it, too.

Harry paused, his intense green eyes meeting Y/N’s as he leaned over her. His hand lingered on her throat, his grip light but enough to hold her attention completely. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move any closer. He just looked at her, his gaze softening slightly, as if he were silently asking her a question.

It wasn’t just a look—it was a pause, a chance for her to stop him if she wanted to. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and searching, silently asking for her consent.

Y/N’s heart raced as she looked back at him, feeling the weight of his unspoken question. She swallowed, her breath shallow as she gave him the answer he was waiting for. Slowly, purposely, she nodded.

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an edge of tenderness.

He leaned down again, his lips brushing hers as his hand on her throat tightened just slightly, enough to make her feel both safe and completely at his mercy. And as the space between them disappeared, Y/N felt herself giving in fully, her trust in him unwavering.

Harry's piercing gaze never left Y/N's face, his touch as light as a butterfly's wings. He slowly pulled her to the edge, his hands on her hips. The soft rustle of sheets filled the room as she sank into the bedding, eyes darting up to meet his.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him undoing his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. She gulped audibly as he climbed onto the bed with her, their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. His hand trailed down her side, stopping just above her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her earlobe, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before whispering back, "I want you to take control."

Harry's smirk was both predatory and reassuring as he nodded once in understanding. His hand slid underneath her shirt, tracing patterns across her stomach before moving higher till it reached its destination: her lacy black bra. He palmed one of her breasts through the fabric, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat that echoed around them. His thumb circled her nipple roughly, making it harden into a tight bud underneath his touch.

His lips followed suit, kissing along her jawline and trailing down towards that erect nipple. He flicked it with his tongue teasingly while simultaneously tug

His smile was wicked as he leaned back, a glint in his eye. "Is that so?" He trailed kisses down her neck, his stubble grazing against her sensitive skin, making her shudder with pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies and brushed against her center, indulging in the wetness there. She gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.

"You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed her shorts aside and slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness surrounding him. Y/N moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand in encouragement.

Harry removed his finger, teasing her as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He growled softly against her skin, sucking gently as he began to thrust two fingers inside her in short, quick motions that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out softly, gripping the sheets beneath her as he continued his ministrations. He quickly undressed her and stared at her body. Y/N felt hot under his eyes.

They quickly lost themselves in each other's touches. The squeak of the bedframe echoed in the room as Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped at the fullness but welcomed it, urging him on with a nod of encouragement.

He slowed down, taking deep breaths to regain control as he braced himself above her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked hoarsely, gaze locked onto hers.

Y/N nodded fiercely, signaling him to continue. With a low growl of approval, he began moving inside her slowly but steadily, their

bodies meeting in a dance of desire. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through them both, their skin slick with sweat under the dim light of the bedside lamp. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved together, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.

Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his rhythm becoming faster and harder, mirroring the desire that flared in his eyes. Y/N met him stroke for stroke, their eyes locked on each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the silence beneath the duvet, broken only by their heavy breathing and soft moans.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared her climax, his name falling from her lips in a whispered plea. Without missing a beat, he quickened his pace, his cock driving into her with urgency. Their connection was intense, overwhelming, everything she could have asked for and more.

As she cried out in ecstasy beneath him, feeling her orgasm wash over her like a wave, Harry followed close behind. His body tensed as he groaned loudly, filling her with his warmth and love. Their hearts raced in unison as they finally collapsed onto each other, panting heavily but content.

He rolled off her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back beside her.

Harry lay on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/N. His green eyes were softer now, a flicker of mischief dancing in them as he smirked.

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "are you going to text your little girl chat and tell them we fucked?" Y/N let out a surprised laugh, turning her head to look at him.

"What? No! They'd never let me live it down."

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself.

"You should. Tell them the hot, mysterious guy was really grumpy the whole time."Y/N laughed even harder, covering her face with her hand.

"Oh, right. That'll really sell it. 'Hey, girls, just an FYl, my grumpy neighbor is not only hot but also excellent in bed. Highly recommend.'"

Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "Not bad. Make sure you add in the part about how I stayed in character the whole time-grumpy and all."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling as she nudged him playfully. "Fine. I'll throw in that your scowl is even sexier up close. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said dryly, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. YN shook her head, the laughter subsiding into a warm smile.

"You know," she said, her tone softening, "you might be mysterious and grumpy, but you're also a little cocky. Just saying."

Harry leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"Maybe," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you like it."

Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, biting back a grin. "Maybe I do."

"Good," he said simply, before capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her forget about everything else-including her friends waiting for updates in the group chat.

The week passed in a blur of near-misses and brief encounters between Y/N and Harry. She saw him in the mailroom once, where he gave her a small nod and the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing upstairs. Another time, they crossed paths in the hallway, exchanging quick hellos but nothing more.

Neither of them brought up the night they spent together, and while Y/N tried to brush it off as a casual hookup, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the topic. She didn’t want to push, figuring Harry would open up if and when he was ready.

Then, one evening, as she was curled up on her couch with a glass of wine and her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text.

Harry:

Hey. Sorry I’ve been so distant this week. The gallery is getting ready for a new showing, and it’s been… a lot.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t expected him to reach out, let alone apologize.

Y/N:

Hey, no worries. I figured you were busy. New showing sounds exciting though!

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

Harry:

It is. Stressful, but worth it. You should come by. It’s this Saturday night. Bring your friends if you want.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry inviting her to his gallery? That felt… significant.

Y/N:

I’d love to. Are you sure you want me to bring my friends? They’re a little… loud.

Harry:

If they’re anything like you, I’m already prepared for chaos.

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

Y/N:

Fair warning: chaos is guaranteed. But I’ll be there.

Harry:

Good. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.

Y/N set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. For all of Harry’s grumpiness and guarded demeanor, this felt like his way of extending an olive branch—a step toward something more. And she couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing him in his element, at the gallery, intrigued her.

She grabbed her phone again and opened the group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

Ladies, clear your schedules for Saturday night. We’re going to an art gallery.

Predictably, her phone exploded with responses almost immediately.

Lila:

Wait, is this Harry’s gallery?

Harper:

The grumpy tattooed neighbor has an art gallery?

Y/N:

Yes. He invited me. And before you ask—no, we’re not talking about the other night.

Lila:

Boring. But fine, we’re in. Is there wine?

Harper:

And snacks?

Y/N:

I’ll ask. But behave yourselves. He already thinks I’m loud.

Lila:

Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.

Y/N laughed, already imagining the chaos her friends would inevitably bring. But deep down, she was looking forward to Saturday more than she cared to admit.

The week crawled by as Saturday approached, each day slower than the last. Y/N found herself obsessing over small details—whether Harry would be too busy to notice her, what kind of people attended art gallery showings, and most importantly, what to wear. She wanted to look effortlessly put-together, like someone who appreciated art but wasn’t trying too hard.

By Saturday afternoon, her room was a battlefield of discarded outfits. Finally, she settled on a sleek black jumpsuit paired with a cropped denim jacket and ankle boots—stylish but not over the top. She added a few gold accessories and a swipe of lipstick before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.

On the way to Silver Lake, she picked up Harper and Lila, who were already buzzing with excitement when they climbed into the car.

“You look hot,” Lila said, eyeing her outfit. “Very ‘I like art but I’m too cool to talk about it.’”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing as she started the car. “I’m going for low-key, not intimidating.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Harper chimed in, adjusting her blazer.

Y/N glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning. Harper wore a bold red jumpsuit, while Lila had opted for a metallic skirt and leather jacket.

By the time they pulled into Silver Lake, the sun had set, and the neighborhood was alive with energy. The gallery came into view, its windows glowing warmly against the evening sky. People were milling about on the sidewalk, chatting in small groups with glasses of wine in hand, while others filtered in and out of the bustling space.

“This is it,” Y/N said, parking the car and taking a deep breath.

“It’s so fancy,” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Look at all these people!”

Harper leaned forward, peering out the window. “I’m already picturing Harry brooding in a corner, glaring at anyone who talks too loud.”

“Probably,” Y/N muttered, her heart fluttering as she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag and adjusted her jacket before turning to her friends. “Okay, let’s not embarrass me too much, yeah?”

“No promises,” Harper said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they headed toward the gallery entrance.

Inside, the space was even more vibrant. The walls were adorned with bold, eclectic pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, and mixed-media pieces that immediately drew attention. Soft music played in the background, and servers wove through the crowd with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the occasional burst of laughter.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Harry. She didn’t spot him right away, but she noticed how carefully curated the space felt—each piece arranged with intention. It was a reflection of him, she realized, meticulous and thoughtful.

“This is amazing,” Harper said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “He really knows what he’s doing.”

Lila nudged Y/N. “Speaking of, where is Mr. Grumpy Art Dealer? I want to see him in his element.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, glancing around again. “He’s probably—”

Before she could finish, her gaze landed on him. Harry stood near the back of the room, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tattoos. He was talking to a small group of people, but his eyes flicked toward her as if he could feel her presence.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and he gave her a subtle nod before turning back to his conversation. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt Lila squeeze her arm.

“Oh, he definitely saw you,” Lila said, grinning. “And I’m not imagining the way he looked at you.”

“Stop,” Y/N hissed, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t deny it—there was something in his gaze that felt personal, even in the middle of the crowd.

“Go say hi,” Harper urged, giving her a nudge.

“Not yet,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass of wine for herself. “I’ll wait until he’s free. Let’s just look around first.”

As they wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry’s eyes were on her—even when she wasn’t looking his way.

Y/N wandered through the gallery, sipping her wine as she admired the artwork. Each piece was so different—some abstract, others intricate and detailed—but all of them carried a sense of purpose. It was easy to see that Harry had a good eye for curating.

She glanced across the room and saw Harper and Lila chatting animatedly with a group of women, likely bonding over their outfits or the wine. Typical, she thought with a smile, shaking her head.

As she moved to the next painting—a striking piece of layered colors and textures—she felt someone step up beside her. There was a shift in the air, a quiet presence that made her turn her head.

It was Harry.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the painting. His black shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up, contrasted sharply against the warm tones of the art, and his tattoos seemed to blend seamlessly into the aesthetic of the space.

“It’s acrylic and resin,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The artist used palette knives for the texture and then poured resin over it to give it that shine. Took weeks to cure properly.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard for a moment before she found her words. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the piece. “I love the depth in it. It feels like you could reach in and get lost.”

Harry glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the idea. The artist wanted it to feel immersive, like stepping into an emotional landscape.”

She looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know all the details of every piece in here?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, his smirk growing. “Part of the job. I like to understand the process—it helps me connect with the artists and explain it to people who come through.”

Y/N smiled, sipping her wine. “It’s impressive. You’ve created something really special here.”

Harry looked at her again, his green eyes studying her for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

She tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Why me?”

He shrugged slightly, his gaze flicking back to the painting. “Because you actually look at the art. Most people just see it, but you’re trying to understand it.”

Her cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she turned back to the painting to hide her flustered expression. “Well, you make it hard not to appreciate it. The way you talk about it… it’s obvious how much you care.”

He didn’t respond right away, and the silence between them felt comfortable, almost intimate. Finally, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer now.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

Y/N turned to look at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the closeness between them. “Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the bustling crowd around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing there, the art surrounding them as if it were part of their story.

Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s, his fingers warm and steady as he gently tugged her through the gallery. She followed without question, her curiosity mounting as they weaved between groups of people. He didn’t say a word, just led her down a quieter section of the space where fewer people were lingering.

When they stopped, Y/N noticed the piece in front of them was a painting—bold yet delicate, with strokes that somehow conveyed both strength and softness. She tilted her head, studying it, drawn to the way the light and shadows played across the figure in the painting. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory.

She took a step closer, her heart beating faster as the realization slowly dawned on her. The painting wasn’t just beautiful—it was her.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Harry, her eyes wide. “Is this…?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable. “It’s you.”

Y/N stared at the painting again, her mind racing. The details were unmistakable—the way her hair fell, the soft curve of her face, the hint of a thoughtful expression she’d never realized she wore. But it wasn’t just her likeness; it was the way the he had captured something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.

“How?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “I started it a few weeks after I moved in. I didn’t even know your name then. I just… saw you.”

Her chest tightened as she turned to him again. “You saw me?”

He nodded, his green eyes softer now. “In the mailroom. In the hallway. On your balcony once, drinking coffee. I didn’t know why, but there was something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head. So, I painted.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—flattery, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “Harry, this is… incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just thought you should see it. This is the first time I’ve shown it to anyone.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she took a step closer to him, her voice soft. “Why me?”

Harry’s gaze locked on hers, his expression open and sincere. “Because it’s you, Y/N. I couldn’t have painted this if it wasn’t.”

The noise of the gallery faded around them as she stood there, her hand still in his, staring up at the painting of herself. For the first time, she saw herself through someone else’s eyes—not as the loud, chaotic neighbor, but as something worthy of being captured in art.

And Harry, the grumpy, mysterious neighbor, was the one who had done it.

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amkyor · 6 months ago

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K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY ᡣ𐭩

Scarily Observant:

You had always joked that Bakugo wasn’t the most romantic guy. He didn’t shower you with flowery compliments or grand gestures, but you knew better.

His love showed itself in quieter ways, ones that made your heart skip a beat when you realized just how much attention he paid to you.

It started small—too small to notice at first. Like how he always handed you the mug you liked best when y'all had coffee or how he seemed to know exactly where you left you keys before you even asked.

“Lucky guess,” he’d mutter when you pointed it out, but there was no mistaking the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

One day, you were running late for work, frantically searching through your closet. “Why is everything I want to wear in the laundry?” You groaned, yanking hangers back and forth.

Bakugo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Wear the green sweater,” he said casually.

You paused, turning to him in surprise. “The green one? You mean the one with the loose sleeves I got last year?”

“Yeah. You always wear it when you’ve got long meetings,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your jaw dropped. “How do you even know that?”

He shrugged. “You fidget with the sleeves when you’re stressed. Look, just wear it and stop making me late, dumbass.”

Moments like that kept piling up. He remembered every little thing you told him, from how you liked your tea to the name of your favorite childhood toy.

Once, you casually mentioned a song you used to love but hadn’t heard in years. The next time y'all went on a drive, it was queued up in the playlist.

“Don’t overthink it,” he’d grumble when you called him out, his ears tinged red.

But the moment that truly floored came during a quiet evening at home. You were curled up on the couch, flipping through an old photo album your mother had sent over. Bakugo glanced over your shoulder, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.

“That’s the bracelet you lost, isn’t it?” he asked, pointing to a picture of you as a kid, wearing a simple silver bangle.

Her eyes widened. “How do you remember that? I barely even mentioned it!”

“You talked about it when we first started dating. Said your grandma gave it to you,” he replied, almost nonchalantly. Then, with a small, rare softness in his voice, he added, “It meant a lot to you.”

You turned to him, overwhelmed by the realization of how much he truly paid attention to you. “You’re scarily observant, you know that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta remember all the stuff you keep forgetting.”

But deep down, you knew the truth: Bakugo’s sharp eyes weren’t just for battle or strategy. They were his way of showing love—by noticing, remembering, and cherishing every little thing about you.

MY BAKUGO FANFIC:

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader

If the link does not work, use the username ᡣ𐭩

Wattpad: amkyor

#anime #bakugo x you #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou #mha fanfic idea #mha fanfiction

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causalitylinked · 5 months ago

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Of course, while he was certainly open to suggestions, Akira would obviously draw the line at Ryu potentially wanting him to make something as time consuming as, for instance... smoked and cured salmon, especially considering he didn't yet have a smoker, but thankfully, she confirmed her normalcy by instead telling him she wanted nikujaga for dinner. To that end, he'll soon mull it over with a gloved hand clasped against his tilting head while his brows subsequently dipped a bit lower beneath his dark, wispy fringes in a subtle display of quiet contemplation.

"...Yeah, I could easily whip that up," Akira acknowledges at long last before eventually lowering his hand back down along his side and ambling his way over to the staircase so he could ascend it. "Since I do still have onions, carrots, potatoes, and sukiyaki beef lying around in my fridge, I could make a version without shirataki noodles using the pot Aunt Natsumi gave me last year," he finds himself musing out loud while climbing up each step. Naturally, it would be nothing all that special... just your average, run of the mill nikujaga using standard Japanese ingredients, but with Ami being rather easy to please, he doesn't doubt she'll over-exaggerate how delicious it was; after all, that girl already makes it sound like he was some excellent five star chef, even though their meals only ever consisted of simple stir frys, hamburger steak, omurice, and less complicated Japanese dishes.

"I'll also boil some extra rice. Anything else you want in it, though, it'll have to come from your place." By the time he finally reaches his front door, Akira turns back around to face Ryu. ...In other words, if she wanted more green vegetables or some sesame seeds on the carrots, then she'll have to lend him the ingredients from her own apartment, because those were things he has yet to buy.

What a sweet, beautiful angel of a kid, her heart delighted with the thought of being so fondly regarded. “ It was high time I got recognition for being funny! Your aunt is raising her so well. ” She was positively tickled by the admission, even if she slipped a small joke. Something about someone else taking heed of her absence made her feel a little warm inside. But she doesn’t voice that, gently patting Akira’s shoulder before letting her arm fall back at her sides. “ I’ll be sure to let her know. Can’t go disappointing my number one fan. You being second of course. ” Ryu grins, stepping back a moment as he fastens the lock for his motorcycle. Ami was a good kid. But she also had good people around her. She’d met Natsumi a few times, busy woman it seemed, but she was always kind. And though his general apathy could be hard to read at times; Akira's actions were enough. The dynamic made her a little reminiscent over her own brother, Akira and him differed a lot, but some of the ways he’d take care of Ami reminded her of him. She’d never go hungry at his table, that was for sure.

“ Dinner for three? I’d love that! ” She rests her hands against her hips– choices, choices. Besides the obvious cuts of meats waiting back in her apartment, Ryu could go for just about anything. Her stomach was a permissive beast and if it was being offered, she’d never refuse! But seeing as he was giving her a choice… “ Well, I wouldn’t mind having nikujaga tonight, seeing as it’s been real cold lately and all? ” She says tentatively, gauging his reaction to the suggestion.

#aaternum #█ ▓『 ✦ ⸂ •• THREAD — ⧼ o5: aaternum / akira and ryu. ⧽ 』#█ ▓『 ✦ ⸂ •• QUEUED — ⧼ because livi is a busy adult irl. ⧽ 』#┕━ ❛ ☣. muse »» 𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗥𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗔〡it’s not that i don’t like people. i’m just more comfortable when i’m by myself.#┕━ ❛ ☣. post NG »» 𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗥𝗔〡being able to waste time doing nothing makes me realize my daily life is back to how it used to be.#┕━ ❛ ☣. in character »» 𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗥𝗔〡interactions.#[ yeah akira is just... less expressive compared to kakeru lmfao ]#[ and while you do have the choice in game to make him happily smile or smirk in response to things charas say ]#[ i get the sense he's constantly scowling or just... impassive in terms of facial expression ]#[ BUT NO WORRIES as much as akira may lowkey be a tsundere ]#[ he still prefers her over kakuya and would not leave her to die (if he can help it) ]

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science-hoes · 29 days ago

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Juno

Jack Abbot x Reader

Description: Jack and the reader spend a day in the park with Robby and his family, leading to some heartfelt confessions. Once they both return to Jack’s house, they take the next step in their relationship (and maybe jumping a few steps in the process). Standalone fic or Chapter Four of You Are In Love.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, canon typical medical descriptions, discussion about Jack’s dead wife, taking care of Jack’s leg after a long day, reader is a Sabrina Carpenter fan, Jack is an Old Man, Jack and Robby are never beating the soulmates allegations, as always technically a Robby x reader fic because his wife is intentionally left unnamed so you can have the best of both worlds, beware of typos, this is about 9.5k words 🥹

Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four

Jack Abbot Masterlist

—

Robby shoved his wallet and keys into the pocket of his shorts while he balanced baby Abbot on one of his arms. He chuckled when he looked down at Eliza, who had expertly dressed herself in a dress and fairy wings. “You’ll have to take your wings off to get in the car seat, okay?”

Eliza jumped around her father, moving towards the front door, ever a beacon of energy. “Okayyy.” She agreed in a sing-songy voice.

Robby’s wife met them at the door to the garage, diaper bag slung over her shoulder. “I think we’re good to go.” She announced, tickling baby Abbot’s socked foot, drawing a giggle from the baby.

Robby turned back towards the hallway. “Alright, let me just grab my sunglasses and-“ He was cut off by a ceremoniously loud hiccup followed by a stream of spit-up leaking down his arm from his son. “Ah, fuck.” He mumbled.

“Robby.” His wife scolded quietly, looking at Eliza.

Robby reached into the diaper bag on her back and fished out a burping cloth to clean off his arm. “She didn’t hear me.” He quickly defended, thankful that his daughter didn’t seem to clock his profanity.

His wife just shook her head but smiled anyway. “Are they gonna meet us at the park?” She asked.

Robby wiped off baby Abbot’s chin before tossing the dirtied cloth into the hamper. “Yep. Jack just texted, said they’re on their way.” He confirmed.

His wife nodded and started going through her mental checklist. “Alright, I’ve got Abbot’s diaper bag, picnic blanket, sunscreen, band-aids, extra clothes for both of them…”

Robby chuckled and wrapped his arm around her to soothe her rambling. “Honey, we’re just going to the park.” He reminded.

His wife smirked and raised an eyebrow. “You underestimate our kids.” She warned, opening the door to the garage, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Robby leaned down halfway to accept the kiss before he pulled the door all the way open, letting his girls walk out before him. “Alright, Robinavitches. Let’s roll.”

Eliza followed her mom out the door, but she underestimated the span of her fairy wings. One of the wings got caught in the doorway, jerking the child back, destroying her momentum. “Fuck!” Her little voice echoed in the garage, and Robby immediately winced.

“Michael!”

——

Jack had draped one hand over the steering wheel as he drove and the other on your lower thigh, elbow resting on the center console. You sipped happily on your iced coffee that he had handed to you with a kiss when you got into his truck.

“I don’t hate it.” He mused, looking to the screen displaying the current song selection you had queued up.

“Nobody hates Sabrina Carpenter.” You replied, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“I just don’t get who Juno is. Is it supposed to be a character in the song?” His brow was wrinkled with concentration as he turned into the parking lot of the park.

You raised an eyebrow. “You never saw the movie?” You asked.

“Uh uh.” He mumbled, maneuvering the wheel to ease into a parking spot.

“It’s a movie about a high school girl who gets pregnant. It’s a coming-of-age movie.” You educated him before taking the last sip of your iced coffee.

Jack put the car in park and looked at you with a bewildered face. “What? That’s what this song is about?” He questioned.

You shrugged, smiling at his astonishment. “Yeah, she wants the guy to fuck a baby in her.”

His face reddened far more than he would have liked, but it was adorable to you. “They play this song on the radio?” He stammered, and when you nodded, he just shook his head as he turned off the truck. “That’s a very sexual song.”

You giggled and hopped out of the truck, your feet crunching on the gravel of the lot. “Okay, grandpa. Is it time for your nap?” You teased, meeting him on the driver's side of the truck.

Jack couldn’t help but smile at you as you approached him, and he tugged gently at the skirt of your sundress, admiring the fabric. “You know, one day, you’re gonna pay for all these ‘grandpa’ and ‘old man’ jokes.” He warned, eyes crinkled from the bright sunshine.

You pressed your hands on his broad chest covered by a lavender polo, closing the distance between your bodies, admiring the way the sunlight enhanced the hazel of his eyes. “Is that a threat, Lieutenant Colonel?”

He chuckled and tilted his head down, nose brushing against yours. “S’not a threat.” He whispered and gently captured your lips with his. “It’s a promise.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and then it was your turn to blush. For a moment, you thought he might throw you back in his truck and take you home. Before you could regain your wits, a little voice called out from the grass field of the park.

“Uncle Jack!”

You both turned to look out to the park, and there was Eliza, in a pink dress and fairy wings hanging from her back, running as fast as her legs could go. Behind her was her family, sprawled out on a picnic blanket.

Jack placed a hand on your lower back to lead you to the park, and he knelt down to catch the little girl in his arms as she threw her arms around his neck. “Hey, princess.” He greeted, kissing her on the cheek.

Eliza giggled as he rose to his feet, hoisting her onto his shoulders. You tapped her knee as you walked towards the picnic blanket. “I love your wings.” You complimented.

She rested her head on the top of Jack’s, her face squished against his silvered curls. “Thank you.” She responded bashfully.

Jack kept a firm grasp on one of Eliza’s ankles so he could hold your hand, swinging your arms just slightly as you approached her family. Robby laid on his back, his head resting in his wife’s lap, as baby Abbot crawled across his upper body.

You knelt on the blanket across from them, your sundress billowing out. Jack hung Eliza by her feet, the little girl screaming and giggling as she squirmed, before laying her gently on the blanket.

“How much of your soul did you sell to get us all off on the same day?” Jack nudged Robby’s knee with his foot.

Robby balanced baby Abbot as he sat upright on his chest. “Only a third of it.” He answered earnestly. “Dana has been blowing up my phone all day complaining about the interns.”

Jack carefully began to kneel down, and you stabilized one of his arms with your own until he was settled next to you. He kissed your temple gently in gratitude before saying, “Those interns make me want to drink before I show up to work.”

You turned to give him an offended look. “Hey, I’m one of those interns.” You complained.

Robby’s wife shook her head. “You’re not one of those interns. You have survival instincts.” She corrected.

Robby lifted baby Abbot off his chest to let him crawl around on the blanket. “It’s true. In fact, you’ve improved other people’s survival instincts.” He noted before pointing at Jack. “Especially his.”

You thought Jack was going to respond with snark, but he just nodded. “Haven’t been on the roof in months.” He agreed.

Baby Abbot began to crawl towards you, moving slowly but surely. You reached your arms out to him, making grabby hands at the baby. “Glad I can be of service.” You deadpanned, but grinned when baby Abbot grabbed your legs, pulling at them. “He looks like he’s ready to stand.”

Robby’s wife sighed nostalgically. “He’s getting there.” She said, a frown on her face. “I wish he’d stay little forever.”

You scooped the baby in your arms, cradling him close. Jack leaned slightly over your shoulder to peer down at his nephew, contentedly snuggled into your chest. “Abbots don’t stay little. They grow big and strong.” He stated proudly, squeezing one of the baby’s chunky thighs.

Robby scoffed and sat up to stretch. “You’re literally five foot nine. Baby Abbot is gonna grow big and strong thanks to me.” He argued.

Jack sat up straighter, brow furrowed. “Thanks to you?” He genuinely laughed. “You have the same body shape as one of those floppy air people outside of car dealerships.”

“Yeah, at least I can reach the top shelf in the supply closet.”

“But you needed help unscrewing that oxygen tank last week?”

“Hey, do you wanna race to that sign over there? I’ll even give you a five-second head start.”

Robby’s wife audibly groaned and dropped her head back. “I can’t do this again.” She mumbled.

You rolled your eyes, bouncing baby Abbot in your arms. “Have they always been like this?” You asked.

She nodded solemnly as Robby laid back again, head in her lap, staring up at the sky. “Dana has told me stories of their first years as attendings. Honestly, I don’t know how she’s done it all this time.”

Jack and Robby looked to their respective partners, seemingly offended that anyone could be annoyed by their antics. You leaned in with interest. “Stories?” You repeated.

“Oh, yes.”

You stole a glance at Jack, who suddenly looked uneasy. “Like what?”

Robby’s wife smiled smugly, letting Eliza flop into her embrace after she had thoroughly inspected a ladybug on the picnic blanket. “Their first interns hated them so much that they casted their legs together while they were asleep during a snowstorm.”

You stared blankly at her, trying to figure out what question to ask first. “How?” Was all you could muster. “Were they asleep in the same bed?”

Jack sat up straight, ready to defend his honor, while Robby started reaching up to cover his wife’s mouth, but Eliza snatched at his arm to stop him.

“That’s not nice, Daddy!” She exclaimed through a fit of laughing.

“Mommy is not nice.” He grunted as his wife helped to hold his arm down.

“They say that they were asleep on different stretchers, and the interns put them right next to each other.” His wife began to explain. “But I don’t buy it.”

Jack tilted his head down until his gaze was sharper. “We were asleep on different stretchers.” He insisted.

You giggled and nudged his shoulder with yours. “It’s okay, you can say that you were snuggled up next to your best buddy. It was a snowstorm.” You teased with a smug grin.

Jack shook his head in annoyance, but he couldn’t resist matching your smile. Robby finally sat up, tickling Eliza so she would stop trying to attack him. The little girl squealed and kicked, but she was no match for her father’s strong arms. “Believe what you want.” He finally surrendered. “But when I fell asleep, the room was empty. If Jack came to sleep with me, then that was his scheming, not mine.”

You and his wife giggled, and Jack rolled his eyes so hard that you thought they’d get stuck like that. You looked down at baby Abbot again, who was beginning to drift off to sleep, content in your arms. His eyes blinked slowly, fixed on yours. One of his hands had a tiny fistful of the fabric of your sundress. You traced his soft, chubby cheek in a soothing pattern with your thumb, continuing even after his eyes remained closed. The sight made Jack’s heart skip a beat, and he desperately wished that it was his baby you were holding.

—

After another hour in the sun and Eliza’s insistence, your crew began to walk towards the nearby ice cream parlor. Robby pushed baby Abbot’s stroller on the sidewalk, and his wife held onto his bicep as they walked behind you and Jack. Eliza was perched on your shoulders, legs dangling on your chest. She and Jack were not on speaking terms right now.

“Uncle Jaaaaaack.” She drawled.

Jack crossed his arms dramatically over his chest and cocked his head to the side, away from her. “I can’t hear traitors.” He said to nobody in particular.

You giggled and bumped his arm with your shoulder. “You’re just jealous she wanted me to carry her.” You teased.

He looked down at you with a fake glare, but the glimmer of playfulness in his eyes was undeniable. “She’s forgetting who held her first.” He retorted, looking up to his niece with the same intense stare.

Eliza giggled and rested her head on top of yours, letting her arms hang limp on either side as she rested. You raised an eyebrow, not following his statement. “Held her first?” You repeated.

Jack accidentally let a smile break through as he thought back on the memory. “Yep. I delivered her.” He replied.

Your heart warmed at the thought, and suddenly their connection made more sense. You turned slightly to look back at Robby’s wife. “You had to deliver in the Pitt?” You questioned.

She let out an exasperated breath, clearly unhappy about the thought. “It was a less-than-ideal situation.” She deadpanned.

Eliza nudged one of her feet at Jack’s shoulders. “Uncle Jack was my first best friend!” She exclaimed.

And with that, Jack couldn’t keep pretending to be mad at her. He grabbed the foot that bumped his shoulder and shook it gently. “Best friends forever, yeah?” He said.

She giggled and reached for him, so you carefully transferred her from your shoulders to his arms. “Yeah!” She squealed, snuggling into his embrace, fairy wings nearly blocking his view as the ice cream shop came into view.

After everyone got their ice cream, your group took over a table outside. Eliza dug into her cotton candy ice cream as delicately as a five-year-old could, the pink and blue beginning to stain her mouth. Robby had a praline ice cream cone that his wife kept stealing bites from despite having her chocolate ice cream cone. Jack had opted for butter pecan, while you were more adventurous with a limited flavor called “Espresso,” inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s song.

As the sun began to beat down on your ice cream, your tongue contained the melting treat to its cone, licking up any tributary that threatened to spill down the edges. Jack pretended not to notice the way your tongue moved with ease, and he really tried not to imagine the ice cream cone replaced with his-

“Uncle Jack, when are we going swimming at your house?” Eliza’s voice cut through his impure thoughts.

He straightened his already impeccable posture and looked at his niece. “How about next Friday?” He suggested, then looked over to Robby and his wife for approval.

“For your birthday?” Robby asked, surprise laced in his voice. Jack never wanted to celebrate his birthday.

Jack nodded slowly, like he was still trying to convince himself. “Yeah, sure. I think we all have the evening off.” He confirmed.

Eliza took another bite of her ice cream before asking, “What about Nana?”

“Nana can come, too.” He promised.

Robby nodded as he dipped his pinky into his ice cream, then pushed it against baby Abbot’s mouth. The baby boy smiled and kicked his feet with excitement at the taste of the sweet treat. “You like that, buddy?” His father cooed, ready to give him more.

Eliza shoved her ice cream at her baby brother. “Let Abby have some of mine!” She exclaimed.

Robby’s wife smiled and dabbed her finger in the pink and blue swirl. “That’s very sweet of you to share, Eliza.” She praised.

Baby Abbot squealed and kicked his legs again at the taste of more ice cream. His parents laughed, and Eliza scooted closer to him. You smiled as you watched the family, heartstrings pulled by their joy and love for each other.

Instinctively, you looked up to Jack, but he was already looking at you. His eyes glowed with adoration in the light of the early sunset. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face from the gentle breeze. Just when you thought he was going to lean down and kiss you to complete the cinematic moment, he furrowed his brow.

“Um…I think you have a little ice cream right there.” He said, tapping his nose to show where you should clean.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you frantically reached up to your face. “Right where?” You questioned.

Jack bumped your elbow, sending your ice cream cone to smash against your nose, smearing across your skin. “Right there.” He answered with a devilish grin.

After the shock wore off, you broke into a wide smile and began smacking his chest with your free hand. “I fucking hate you.” You hissed, quiet enough that Eliza couldn’t hear, but it was laced with laughter.

Jack tried to defend himself from your attacks, leaning away when you came to press a messy, ice-creamy kiss on his mouth. But he eventually relented, licking the sweetness from your lips as his face became covered with the dessert. “No, you don’t.” He breathed against your mouth.

Eventually, your laughs faded, breathless, and you grabbed a napkin to wipe off your mouth and his. As you do, you take notice of the extra freckles on his face from a day in the sunshine. “Your freckles are darker.” You admired, tracing the constellations on his cheeks.

“Yeah.” He replied, his voice softer than his usual gravel. “Sun brings 'em out.”

Before he could say more, Eliza shrieked with delight as Robby lifted her out of her chair and swung her in wide, dizzying circles. Her fairy wings fluttered with each spin. Jack glanced over, and you felt his posture shift as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His smile remained, but it dulled at the edges, like a ghost passed through it.

“They make it look easy.” You noted, watching Robby hand Eliza off to his wife, who kissed the top of her head with practiced tenderness.

“It’s not.” Jack replied, almost absently. “But they’re good at it.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. His gaze had drifted toward baby Abbot, now asleep in his stroller with melted ice cream dribbling down his chin. Robby crouched beside him, wiping it away with a gentle, aged hand.

“Does it make you want that?” You asked earnestly.

Jack was quiet for a beat too long, and you worried that you may have pushed him too far out of his comfort zone. He drew in a long breath through his nostrils. “Used to think it wasn’t in the cards for me.” He admitted. “Not the way things have been. The job. The chaos. The bullshit. But…” He looked at you now, really looked. With those gorgeous hazel eyes that bore his entire soul. “Then I see you holding Abbot. I see you lighting Eliza up like she’s got stars inside her. And I think… maybe I was wrong.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your chest ached, full and warm and a little unsteady, and tears began to sting your eyes. So instead, you reached out and took his hand under the table, just as Eliza crashed into your side with a burst of laughter, tugging at your arm.

“Come see the rock I found!” She pleaded.

You happily relented, standing to follow the child. “Okay, okay.” You agreed.

Jack watched you go with her, his hand still holding yours, fingertips grazing your skin until you were just out of reach.

And he knew it then.

He didn’t want to let go tonight.

—-

After lots of hugs and promises to see each other next Friday night for the pool party, you and Jack parted ways from Robby and his family. The ride home was similar to the ride to the park. Jack’s hand on your thigh, music of your choice humming through the speakers, and an aura of contentment mixed with the AC of the truck. Now and then, Jack would steal glances of you gazing out the window, eyes fixed on the sinking sun, and smile to himself.

Once you arrived at his house, he led you through the threshold, hand on your lower back. Not like he was inviting you inside, but like he was welcoming you home. After kicking off your sandals and lining them neatly next to the wall, you turned to find him leaning against the closed door, just…looking at you.

“Something on your mind?” You asked, closing the distance between the two of you, resting your hands on his broad chest.

Jack smiled and grasped one of your hands, bringing it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles, each one, like it was a holy ritual. “I didn’t want today to end.” He admitted, lips brushing against the dorsum of your hand.

You nodded in agreement, reviewing the new freckles dusted on his nose. “It was a good day.”

His free hand trailed against your back, down to your waist, skimming the fabric of your sundress. “You’re great with them. With my family.” He noted, letting you stretch your hand across his stubbled jaw. “The way you hold Abbot and let him drool all over your dress while he sleeps.” He used his newly freed hand to gently tug at a strand of your hair that framed your face, inspecting the way the wave bounced back when he released. “The way you keep up with Eliza and every silly tangent she goes on.” The hand on your waist began to travel to the side, resting on your hip. “The way you laugh with Robby and talk to his wife like you’ve known her longer than he has.”

You pushed your fingertips backward into his dense curls, scratching gently at his scalp. “It’s really easy. They feel like my family.” You replied.

Jack smiled, warmer than the sun that was slowly turning the living room golden. “They are your family.” He corrected.

“Then what am I?” You whispered, leaning just a little closer until you could feel his breath fighting against yours.

He closed the distance between your faces, brushing his nose against yours, lips just barely touching. “You’re mine.”

This time, the kiss was different, no longer held back by nerves or doubt. It was gentle, but deeper now, like something had clicked into place. He led you to the bedroom in that same slow, reverent way. Every movement felt intentional, like unwrapping something sacred. He helped slide the straps of your sundress off your shoulders, brushing his lips over every new inch of skin revealed to him. You unbuttoned his lavender polo with shaky fingers, anticipation coursing through your veins, and pulled the fabric over his shoulders.

His freckles rivaled the stars in both number and beauty. You seared hot, open-mouth kisses across his neck and chest, lapping up the salt that crystallized on his body from the warm, sunny day. Now and then, you dared to suck on the tender flesh, drawing a heavenly moan from his throat.

Jack’s fingers found the zipper to your dress and began to pull it down slowly. “I haven’t done this…in a long time.” He found the words to say.

You shuddered as more and more air hit your open back as the zipper slid down. “How long?”

He swallowed hard, the muscles of his throat shifting. “10 years.”

Your eyes widened. “You haven’t fucked anyone in 10 years?”

Jack let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, I’ve fucked.” He corrected, but your raised eyebrow and unamused stare inspired him to clarify. “But I haven’t done this.”

You tilted your head, tracing the chiseled outline of his pectoral muscles. “What is this?”

Love. That’s what he wanted to say. He didn’t dare speak it into existence. Not yet. But you already knew. From the way he had first kissed you a few weeks ago. From the way he looked at you with those incandescent eyes. The word didn’t leave his lips. But you could hear it in the silence.

Instead, he dropped his lips to your shoulder and whispered, “You know.”

Your fingers threaded through his chrome curls, taking root as he began to drag his teeth across your clavicle. “I know.” You confirmed.

With a final tug at the zipper, your sundress floated to the ground, pooling at your ankles. When Jack pulled away to admire your body, he choked on his breath when he saw that you had no bra or panties underneath your dress.

“You didn’t have anything on under there all day?” He stuttered, eyes unashamedly raking over your body, indulging in your naked beauty for the first time.

You shrugged, a little self-conscious at his questioning. “It’s a sundress.” You replied like it was the obvious answer.

Jack snaked his arms around your body, pulling you in close, chests smashed together, sharing body heat. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He breathed, mouth hovering over your carotid, dropping an open mouth kiss on your pulse.

You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck, and whimpered as he explored with his lips. He moved backward towards his bed, sitting down when the mattress bumped against his knees, and pulled you to straddle his lap. With your breasts now hovering just above his eyes, his mouth latched to one of your nipples, securing it between his teeth. Your back arched when he sucked, and your hips ground against his, your bare pussy leaving a damning wet spot on his jeans.

“Oh, Jack.” You whimpered, and he nearly came at the way you said his name.

He hummed in acknowledgment, reaching up to your other breast, tweaking and twisting the hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger. Another grind of your hips, this time grazing his rock-hard cock in the process. The deep vibration of his groan sent shivers through your body as he engulfed more of your breast in his mouth. His free hand gripped your hip like it was the only thing tethering him to reality and guided you to grind against him once more. And again. And again. And again until you reached down to his belt buckle, unlatching the metal, and snatching the leather from around his waist. Your fingers rustled at the button and zipper until you freed his hips from the snug fit of his jeans.

“Can I take them off, please?” You begged, mind clouded with hypothetical guesses of how he looked fully naked.

But that was when Jack slowly sat up straight with that all too familiar look of hesitation and vulnerability that you hadn’t seen since the ice skating rink. His hazel eyes flicked between your irises, unable to focus on one as his thoughts raced to form the right answer.

“I would need to, um…take off my prosthetic.” He finally confessed.

You smiled slightly at the mole hill that he was seemingly making a mountain out of. “Okay.” You chirped. “Can I help you?”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, possible excuses ghosting through his lips as they twitched, until he settled on the truth. “I’ve never had sex without it.”

You raised an amused eyebrow. “So what, you’d take off your foot, then your pants, then put the foot back on?”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “No. I just wouldn’t take off my pants.”

“So for the last 10 years, you just dropped your pants enough to fuck?”

“Exactly that.”

Your smile faded slowly as realization hit you. “Oh. So nobody’s seen your whole body since before…”

Jack’s lips pulled into a thin line, exhaling deeply. “Yeah.”

The look in his eyes sent a stab to your chest. He was scared. You ran a hand against the side of his face, stopping once your fingers threaded through his hair. “Are you scared that I’m gonna find it unattractive or something?” You asked.

He didn’t look away from you, but the sad look in his eyes gave you your answer. He didn’t want to say it out loud because it would sound so silly, so juvenile. But it was true. How could a gorgeous woman like you love a deformed man like him? Sure, they made a whole Disney movie about it, more than one actually, but only one where the deformed guy gets the girl, and that’s after he turns back into-

“Jack?”

Your voice brought him back to the small air you shared together. His eyes focused again, watching the way you shifted in his lap, and your other hand came to rest on his face, holding his head in your grasp.

“I love you.”

The words left your lips softly, deftly, like a secret. Jack didn’t react much, but his eyes widened ever so slightly, more of his hazel irises exposed, and a shaky breath escaped his lips. You continued your confession, maintaining intense eye contact, just how he liked it.

“I love you. You’ve had my heart from the first night I met you when I was on my emergency medicine rotation in med school. I didn’t know it at the time. I didn’t know it until I saw you with Eliza when she broke her arm. Seeing the way you cared for her and for Robby and for his family. I saw a man that I couldn’t help but love because he had nothing but love to give.”

Your words made him dizzy, like he was sucking helium, slowly getting high. Tears began to pool in the corners of his eyes, and you took it as a sign to keep going.

“I know you’ve been married before. I remember you used to wear a wedding ring during my med school rotations and the first couple of days of my intern year. I know she passed away a long time ago.”

It was the first time you ever mentioned his wife, not because you danced around the topic, but out of respect. Jack swallowed thickly at the mention of her.

“I don’t want to replace her. I don’t want to ever push her out of your heart. She was there first. But I just want you to know that you’ve got another person who loves you as much. Who would do anything to make you smile.”

And that made Jack smile. His eyes crinkled, leaning in to your lips with his. “I love you.” He mumbled into your mouth. “More than I thought I was able to love someone.”

His confession drew a relieved exhale from you, and you softened into the kiss, letting his mouth take you wherever was next. Until he pulled away to speak again:

“I haven’t worn my wedding band because of you.”

You heeded his words, but your brow furrowed as you thought back to the last time he wore the ring. “But that was months ago.” You said, really meaning to keep it in your thoughts, but it came out anyway.

Jack just nodded, moving to take one of the hands that cradled his face in his one. “Yeah. Not since the morning you found me talking to her on the roof.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Talking to her?” You questioned.

Jack sighed, not in distress, but in a peaceful exhale. “In the mornings, I used to go up to the roof a lot. Especially after bad shifts. When the sun was rising, I would talk to her. My therapist thought it would keep me from actually jumping off the building to join her, and he was right.”

He laughed at the end of his sentence, and you smiled along with him, but then he met your gaze once more, staring deeply into your soul.

“I didn’t forget you after your med school rotation during your third year. And I was incredibly distraught when you didn’t take a fourth year rotation. I realized it was because I wanted you.” He confessed, then his jaw tightened. “Loved you.” He amended, like it was the first time the confession left his body. “That’s when I began to feel guilty. Like I was betraying her or cheating on her.”

Your brow furrowed in time with his, and he swallowed hard on the stressful memory.

“Those first couple of shifts that you were with me this year were hell. All I could think of was you, and it was eating me alive. I couldn’t even talk about it to Robby because then that made it real. That morning on the roof, I was talking to her about it. Apologizing for it. But then you showed up, not even looking for me, just trying to get some air. And when I saw you, the way the sun was glowing against your face, and you smiled at me…”

Jack smiled now, as he remembered your sleepy features from that morning melting away as you smiled and talked about the most grueling parts of your shift.

“I could hear her telling me to move on. Honest to God, I heard her voice.” His smile remained, but his eyes were dead serious. “Haven’t worn my wedding ring since that day. Haven’t ever taken it off for someone else because…”

You tilted your head as his eyes drifted down to the hand of yours that he held against his chest. “Because…?” You prompted.

“I’ve never met someone who I would replace the ring for.” He looked back up to your curious face. “Not until you."

Tears stung your eyes, and you took in a shaky breath through your lungs. “You’d marry me?”

Jack grinned, pressing his forehead against yours. “I would marry you tomorrow if you let me.” He answered honestly. “But you deserve some more fanfare than that. A pretty ring, a pretty dress, a pretty wedding.”

You wanted to protest, but the idea of marrying Jack was too much to handle. A proposal, a first dance, all while surrounded by family and friends. It made you smile, and you giggled as you tried to suppress your sheer excitement at the thoughts.

Jack just chuckled and peppered your nose with tiny kisses. “Yeah, you’d like that?” He teased, but so lovingly.

“Yeah.” You agreed, letting him kiss the warmth off your face.

Eventually you caught his mouth again with your own, and the kiss felt different. It was domestic, stable, and sure like an oath you were making to each other in that moment. He deepened the kiss first, moving his hands back to your hips, and you were reminded of the aching bulge you still sat upon.

“Jack?” You whispered, tilting your head as his lips roamed to your jawline.

“Yes, love?” He murmured, dragging his bottom lip against your skin as he moved down to your neck.

You tapped his right knee gently, and that made him pull away to look at you. “Can I help you take it off?” You asked quietly. “Please?”

Jack didn’t answer right away. He drew in a sharp breath when he nodded, his heart fluttering at the thought of someone helping him for the first time since he left inpatient physical therapy. “Yeah.” He whispered.

You climbed off his lap and slowly sank to your knees. He rolled up the right pant leg of his jeans slowly, revealing the prosthesis. The sleeve cover extended from the socket of the metal to his mid thigh, compressing his leg to secure the prosthetic.

“Show me how.” You demanded simply, the same tone you used when he had taught you how to intubate with a tactical crike kit for the first time.

Jack couldn’t help the smile that found its way to his lips. You were curious, desperate to learn. One of the very things that made him fall for you almost two years ago. But this was so much more intimate than teaching you disaster medicine tricks and shortcuts. He was teaching you how to care for him.

He rested his fingers at the hem of the fabric sleeve on his thigh, thumbs hooking under the right material. “This is a sleeve that I put over the socket. It creates a seal to keep the socket in place, stops it from falling off.” He explained, and he began to roll down the sleeve.

Your hands grasped onto his, letting the sleeve snap back into place against his skin. “Let me do it.” You begged, looking up to him with those doe eyes. “Please. I want to learn.”

Jack relented, a small laugh at your earnestness. “Okay, okay.” He agreed. “But it’s gonna be really sweaty.”

You hooked your index fingers under the sleeve around his thigh and pulled down, letting the material roll over itself, slowly exposing more and more of his skin. He let out a hiss of relief as cold air mixed with the perspiration. The sleeve finally unrolled all the way, uncoupling his leg and the prosthetic.

“Yeah, just like that.” He confirmed with the familiar swirl of pride in his chest from whenever you successfully completed a new procedure. “Now I can just move it to the side.”

He placed the prosthetic beside the bed, and it stood up, perfectly balanced. You looked to his leg now, intrigued by the layers of fabric. “Okay, what’s next?” You questioned, fingers tracing over his bare knee.

Jack pointed to the first layer of fabric. “These are just socks. They help to keep a perfect fit within the socket.” He explained, and you removed the two black socks until you were met with silicone. “This is the liner. Why don’t you let me do this one? It collects a lot of sweat. Like a lot.”

You almost pouted when he wouldn’t let you remove the liner. As he carefully rolled it off, he didn’t notice you disappear into the bathroom until he heard the sink turn on and off. You returned with a damp towel, dropping to your knees again. When he removed the liner completely, the silicone material held a small pool of sweat.

Jack grimaced. “I know it’s gross, but-“

You cut him off by encasing his bare stump in the cold, damp towel, massaging gently through the material. He clenched his eyes shut at the euphoric sensation and tilted his head down toward his chest.

“Does this feel okay?” You asked, trying to apply just enough pressure to relieve the strain from a long day of walking through the park.

He just nodded, unable to speak, only grunting in relief as your fingers worked their magic. You dragged the towel up his thigh, wiping away at the sweat that had beaded throughout the day, cooling off the skin and letting it breathe. He closed his eyes, mostly to hold back tears. He had never been the recipient of such love and care and service, and it was almost overwhelming him.

That is, until he felt your lips on his knee. Kissing once, then twice. Then moving down his shin, a gentle trail of kisses. Until your mouth reached his stump where you stopped to inspect the faded amputation scar before searing it with more kisses.

You sat back on your knees, one hand still massaging the knotted muscles at his stump, and scanned his whole body. “You’re so beautiful, Jack.”

That was more than he could handle. A tear escaped from his eye, and he pulled you up to him, guiding your thighs to straddle his lap once more. His lips caught yours, desperate to taste you again, to battle your tongue for dominance that he was sure to win. You draped your arms around his neck, desperate for the warmth of his bare chest against yours. Absentmindedly, your hips bucked, smearing your wet pussy across the crotch of his jeans, dampening the bulge underneath the zipper. Jack only broke the connection of your lips to groan, the vibration pulling from his gut, far deeper than his chest.

“Oh, fuck, baby doll.” He muttered through clenched teeth, reaching a desperate hand to the fly of his pants.

Your hands met his at his waist, pulling down the zipper to reveal the signature “Lucky You” printed on the inside of the Lucky Brand jeans. How appropriate. Before you could shuck his pants off for him, you were swiftly rolled onto your back and tossed farther up the bed, the bedroom a blur, only stilling once you saw Jack crawling up to hover over your body. His jeans were now on the floor and fuck. He was hung. There was no way that-

“I love you.” His voice cut through your pussy’s panicking, and lowered to kiss the inside of your thigh, large hand gripping your knee just below. “I love you with everything that I am.” Kissing up your thigh now, moving dangerously close to your blazing, dripping core, stubble scraping across your marble skin. “And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.” His nose nudged against your mound, the heat surely condensating against his skin. His breath felt cool in comparison as it hit your folds but warmth spread across your body nevertheless. His eyes flicked up to yours, seeking permission, some kind of confirmation to grant him access to the one thing he’s been wanting since the day he met you.

When your thighs clenched around his shoulders instinctively at the sight, you found yourself unable to form a real sentence. The only thing that would come out of your mouth was a pathetic whimper of his name.

Jack nudged his nose against your hidden clit, like he was marking its location ahead of time to come back to, but his eyes never left you. “I need to you tell me what you want, love. Can’t keep going until you do.” His voice was soft and silvery, but you recognized the underlying strain of lust.

Your cheeks flushed, trying to build up the strength to vocalize your perverse wishes. “Can you eat me out?” You asked.

Jack lips quirked to the side in amusement. Your answer was so sweet and earnest. Not dirty like he was expecting. “You want me to eat you out, honey?” He asked. “Yeah?”

You nodded, brows furrowing in anticipation. “Yeah.” You confirmed.

Without another second of hesitation, Jack dropped his mouth and licked a long, searing stripe against your folds, catching every drop of wetness that had been waiting for him. Your thighs clenched around his head as you screamed his name, fistfuls of his sheets bunched in your hands.

“So wet, goddamn.” He mumbled, gently kissing your pussy, humming as his nose brushed against your clit again. “All this for me? Huh?”

Your fingers found purchase in his chrome curls, anchoring in his scalp, hotly sensitive to his ministrations. “Mmhmm.” You mumbled. “Only for you.”

Jack pressed another kiss to your weeping hole. “That’s right. Only for me.” He reiterated before his tongue dove deep into your core.

Vulgar sounds of his tongue lapping your juices, smacks from his sucking mouth, and your high pitched whines filled the air of his bedroom. It didn’t take long for your abdomen to coil, the telltale hint of an orgasm approaching steadily. But before you could warn him, Jack pulled away, much to your dismay.

“Jaaaaack.” You whimpered, rubbing your thighs against his neck.

He looked up to you, his jaw already gleaming with your juices. “Hold on, baby doll.” He shushed you as his thumb trailed against your folds, moving a little bit higher. “Gonna make you feel better.”

His thick fingers moved to your clit, maneuvering the soft skin until your sensitive bud was fully exposed to the cold air of the room. Without warning, he placed a sickeningly slow kiss against it, pulling back with concentrated suction on the bundle of nerves. Your thighs clamped shut around his neck, and if you were choking him, he didn’t mind the asphyxiation.

“How’s that feel, huh?” He mumbled against your pussy, his stubble burning deliciously against you as he spoke.

Your grip in his hair tightened, forcing his mouth back against your clit again. “S-so good, baby.” You breathed.

Another draw of his mouth against your clit had you screaming his name, squeezing tighter around his neck to a point that he had to use his free hand to slightly pry your thigh enough for a short breath of air. But he didn’t stop. The dance continued like that for a while, him frenching your clit as you squirmed underneath, helpless to his power. When he slipped a thick index finger into your pussy, curling perfectly against that spongy spot inside you, it was only a matter of time before you saw stars.

“Jack, I’m gonna come.” You said it like a warning but Jack took it as a task.

He didn’t stop to praise you or tease you. As soon as your said those words, he was a man on a mission. His suckling mouth doubled down against your clit, taking in the sensitive bud like a devotion. The thick index finger inside you was joined by his middle finger, stretching you further, putting more pressure on that spongy spot.

The twisting in your abdomen reached a peak, but something felt unusual in your core as Jack continued to finger you like a man possessed.

“Wait, Jack. Something feels different.” Your voice trembled, but if he had actually stopped, you think you would have died.

Instead, Jack just hummed against you. “Just give into it, baby doll. It’ll feel good.” His hoarse voice rasped against your bundle of nerves.

Before you could protest, the spring inside you snapped. Your walls pulsed around his large fingers as white heat rushed over your body in conjunction with your juices splashing across Jack’s face, dribbling down his chin as he licked you clean. Your chest heaved as your orgasm rolled through you, the grip in Jack’s curls loosening a bit as you reeled from your high.

“Holy shit.” You panted. “That was…good.”

You felt Jack chuckle as your thighs moved with his bouncing shoulders. “Told ya.” Was all he said with a smug grin before he finished off his meal, leaving nothing left behind.

He began to move up your body again, pressing kisses against your stomach, breasts, chest, neck, jaw, all the way back to your lips. You could taste yourself on his mouth and tongue, his chin slipping against yours from lubrication. You rolled your hips up against his, feeling his length pushing against your belly, aching to be sheathed inside you. When your hips bucked into his for a second time, Jack grabbed them on either side, pinning you down against the mattress.

“What’d I say, huh? Gotta use your words and tell me what you want.” He reminded you, breath ghosting against your neck.

Your hands ran up his back, dragging your fingernails with them in a soothing pattern. “I want you.”

Jack clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side to look up at you. “You’re a doctor. I know you know more words than that.”

You whined and shut your eyes in frustration, trying to roll your hips again, but they were weighted down by his hands still. “I want your cock inside me.” You begged, and when you opened your eyes again, his were incredibly dilated, almost erasing the hazel completely.

“Atta girl.” He praised before lining up the fat head of his cock against your folds, running it up and down to collect your slick. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Ready?” He asked in a voice too soft to be the one that was commanding you just a moment ago, and surely not one that he ever used as a Lieutenant Colonel.

You nodded, securing your arms around his shoulders, bracing yourself. “I’m ready.” You confirmed, sealing your answer with a gentle kiss.

Jack moved forward slowly. Inch by inch. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six?

First, you couldn’t breathe. It was like the air had been knocked out of you, leaving your diaphragm reeling to regain function. The only thing that could come out was pathetic grunts from your chest, barely making it past your vocal cords.

“Almost there.” His coarse voice whispered.

Seven. Eight? Eight. Finally, pelvic bones fused. And that’s when your lungs could fill again, followed by a glass shattering scream. Jack just pressed kisses across your cheeks, smearing the tears that fell.

“That’s my girl.” He grunted softly between your staggered cries of pain.

Your chest heaved, struggling to adjust to his length and thickness. “J-Jack, it’s too much, I can’t do it.” You blubbered.

“You’re gonna have to, love.” He cooed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

More tears spilled from your eyes as he ripped you in half. He brushed away each one with his thumb, leaving kisses in their place. Slowly, he pulled out of you completely, and you could breathe again. But only for a moment.

Jack filled you up again, just a little quicker this time, and you squirmed underneath him. His name sputtered from your lips.

“You’re doing so good for me, kid.” He mumbled against your damp chest, beginning to pull out again.

And that repeated for a long time. Jack would thrust in, and you would scream, and he would praise you. Over and over. The pace picking up each time. Until finally, there was a rhythm. No waiting to finish his praise before he was thrusting in again.

And the pain morphed into pleasure. Your timid hips began to meet his thrusts halfway, and your cries of discomfort turned to cries of ecstasy. The sounds in the room were unholy but surely heaven felt like this.

But just as your second orgasm began to build, Jack’s hips began to stutter, and the veins in his neck bulged as he strained. “I’ve gotta…I’ve gotta stop.” He grunted.

You panicked, thinking he had changed his mind on a whim, the desperation in his voice sending you into a spiral. “What? Why?” You questioned.

He buried his head deep as he pulled out fully, leaving you painfully empty. “I was gonna come.” He rasped. “Don’t wanna yet. Wanna make you feel good.”

You felt relief wash over your body. But something spurred you to ignore his wishes. You linked your legs around his waist and crocodile rolled him with a swiftness. He would have stopped you, but, well, he only had one foot that was grounding him to the mattress.

“You make me feel good.” You reassured him as you lined up over his pelvis again, hovering above his throbbing cock. “You make me feel so good.” Your hand wrapped firmly around his cock, smothering the head against your folds. “But you’re gonna come.”

Before Jack could protest, you sank down on his length, and his voice cracked into incoherent cursing. You rocked on his hips slowly, splaying your hands across the old scar on his abdomen for support. “You’re gonna kill me, kid.” His voice was hoarse, but his smile was unwavering.

“Hopefully not anytime soon.” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut from the way his tip caressed that spongy spot inside you over and over.

And he laughed. You were riding him to his climax, grinding on him like it was your life mission to make him come, and you were making him laugh.

“I’m- oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” He said, and it was meant as a warning.

He was warning you to pull away, so he could use his hand to finish, maybe splatter against your stomach. But when you maintained his intense stare, bouncing impossibly faster on him, he knew your plan. He gripped your hips tightly and began to meet you halfway with sharp thrusts.

“Jack?”

“Yes, love?”

“Fuck a baby in me.”

Now that? That was enough to send Jack over the edge whether or not he wanted to. When he came, he made sure the whole neighborhood knew. His vocal cords shredded as his head pushed back into the bed, throat muscles shifting. You could feel the hot ropes of cum painting your insides with each twitch of his cock, and you slowed your pace to a gentle roll of your hips, milking each drop out of him.

When the spasms began to wane and his breathing returned to a consistent ebb and flow, he focused his gaze on you again. Your silhouette-framed by the golden glow of his bedside lamp, shimmering with sweat but still enchantingly beautiful. He smiled lazily and pulled you against his chest, careful not to pull you off his cock just yet.

Your head rested against his pectoral, right above his heart. Each thump was slower than the last as his breathing slowed to a normal rhythm. His hand ran through your hair, messed and knotted from throws of sex. You nearly fell asleep that way, in his arms, his cock slowly softening inside you, until he spoke:

“Did you mean it?”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, the hazel in his eyes now the majority again. “Mean what?”

“You want a baby?” His voice was so gentle, so small, and so…hopeful. “With me?”

You smiled and brought a hand to the side of his face, pulling him down for a sweet kiss. “Yes, I want a baby.” You answered, but corrected yourself when you remembered his favor for specificity. “With you, Jack.”

Jack couldn’t hold back his smile that quickly transformed into a grin. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, brushing a thumb across his cheek bone. “Absolutely.” You replied before kissing him once more. “Besides, I think Eliza and Abbot need some cousins.”

—

Robby collapsed on the couch next to his wife, slinking lazily into her lap as she watched sitcom reruns. “Abbot is finally asleep.” He mumbled against her stomach, humming with content when her fingers began to card through his dark hair. “Wouldn’t stop babbling. Talks as much as Jack does. Maybe we should’ve named him after your grandfather instead.”

His wife giggled and traced the bridge of his nose. “You know the baby monitor is right here? I could hear you talking to him the entire time. You weren’t letting him sleep.” She replied.

Robby scoffed, wrapping his arms around her waist to secure his resting spot. “For your information, we were talking about very important business.”

“Post season stats for the Penguins is important business?” His wife deadpanned.

“Yes. I’m starting him early so that he can be as stressed as me one day and nearly go into cardiac arrest during every game.” He answered very seriously, trying to fight the sleep that called his name.

That is, until his phone buzzed. With a groan, fearing it was the night shift needing an extra hand or worse, Gloria, he sluggishly reached into his pocket. When the screen lit up, he groaned and raised the phone to his wife. “Read this for me, love. I don’t have my glasses on me.”

Before his wife could make a snarky comment about being an old man, the message on the screen drew a gasp from her. “Holy shit, Jack wants to go ring shopping.”

Robby perked up a bit, but was slow to trust his wife. “You know, it’s not nice to lie to your elders.” He teased.

She shook her head, shoving his phone closer to his face. “No, he really said it!” She exclaimed.

Robby furrowed his brow, holding his phone farther away until the text came into focus. “Well shit, he might beat us on fastest engagement.” He mused before typing back a question of “When do you wanna go?”

“Think they’ll beat us on the baby, too?” His wife teased.

Robby chuckled, placing his phone on his chest as he looked up to his wife. “I doubt it. Can’t let ‘em catch up to us though.” He said before pulling her down for a kiss. “Gotta keep our lead going strong.”

His wife pushed at his chest but still revelled in his kisses. “Give Abbot a chance to be the baby of the family.” She teased.

Robby shrugged, smirking up at her. “I’m just sayin’, only three more babies until I have a basketball team.” He joked in response.

She scratched his beard and squeezed his cheeks condescendingly. “In your dreams, Robinavitch.”

#jack abott x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbot smut #Jack abbot #the pitt #the pitt hbo #michael robinavitch #Eliza robinavitch #abbot robinavitch #jack abbot x reader

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jinusajas · 8 months ago

Text

11/10/24; 09:04am

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you try to break up with them, and they convince you otherwise ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

queued post; published time 02:50pm

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus no longer had the time to be with you, filling his days with various meetings and conferences while you were left to your own devices back at home.

and when your text messages were left unread, coupled along with how your calls would always end up going straight to voicemail-

you decided that enough was enough.

knowing that he had just returned from a business trip last night, you take quick strides towards his office with your suitcase in tow. you had every intention of showing just how tired you were of being neglected by him, and that you were through with being a mere afterthought.

not even bothering to announce your arrival, you grab at the door's handle and fling it open, allowing them to slam against the walls. sylus quirks an eyebrow at you, looking away from the gun he was currently polishing.

"what's this? is my kitten throwing a little tantrum?"

"i'm not your kitten- not anymore." you hiss at him, tossing back your hair while meeting his crimson gaze. "i'm leaving you, and that's the end of it."

a flash of annoyance was seen in his gaze, and he trails his eyes downward, finally noticing the suitcase in your hand.

"is that so?" with a click of his tongue, sylus pushes aside his gun, taking casual strides toward you. when he stands before you, his smirk seems to widen before placing his hand beneath your chin-

yet what you weren't expecting was for sylus to pin you against the wall, tossing aside your skirt while sliding down your panties with his teeth, revealing your soaked entrance to him. as he inserts a finger within your slick heat, thrusting that single digit in and out of you to draw out even more moisture from you, you could no longer resist him-

could no longer ignore just how much you had missed this intimacy with him.

the sensation of it all was enough to make you toss your head back in response, nails gripping at his hair when sylus manages to hold you by the back of your thighs, keeping you upwards using his strength alone before diving into your honeyed sweetness with his tongue. you gasp and unconsciously began moving your hips-

riding his face as your pushed your aching cunt against sylus's eager mouth. using his skilled fingers, he keeps thrusting it in and out of you, drawing out even more of your breathy moans as you felt your abdomen clench in response to your incoming release. within mere seconds, you felt a rush coursing through your veins, climaxing within sylus's awaiting mouth as he groans at there pure taste of you, swallowing all that you had to offer him.

feeling like your legs had effectively turned to jelly, you nearly fell to the ground had it not been for sylus. he keeps you pressed against the wall, using his free hand to unbuckle his belt before pulling his cock out of it. you tremble, seeing the way his lips were still shining from the evidence of your release briefly before crying out to him the moment his cock impales you.

"heh, as if you could ever live without me." sylus speaks to you in harsh tones, fucking you against his wall when his hips harshly met with yours in a series of passionate thrusts. "i won't let you leave me, not when everything i have done was for the sake of your happiness."

even while he was speaking, you couldn't bring yourself to understand him, feeling his cock filling you so well that you gripped him with your walls almost greedily. as if reading your mind, sylus gives you a shit-eating grin, leaning closer to whisper hotly in your ear,

"as if you could live without this cock."

you knew that zayne was a busy man that had big dreams of becoming the best cardiac surgeon in the world-

however, you felt like you were getting in the way of zayne achieving his dreams.

it wasn't like zayne was ignoring your calls, or remained unavailable because he was ignoring you. that was never the case when it came to him. in fact, you understood that he spent most of his days performing surgeries that would save lives-

and he shouldn't have to deal with you when you felt like you were nothing more than a distraction for him.

when evening came, you arrive at akso hospital with a solemn expression on your face. in your hand was a bag filled with various dishes you had prepared for him. this would be your final act of love and kindness for him before you broke it off with him.

arriving at his office, you felt your throat clench up with anxiety, knowing that what you were about to do was by far your hardest feat yet.

taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you breathe in deeply before knocking at his door. a faint 'come in.' was heard coming from the other side when you invited yourself inside his office.

zayne was settled in front of you, remaining seated at his desk all while appearing worn out. his hair was messy, like he had run his hands through them many times throughout the day. once you shut the door, zayne sees your figure approaching and gives you a tiny smile, "hello darling... what brings you here?"

you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, settling the packed meal off to the side before admitting to him, "z-zayne, you deserve better than me."

shock was written all over his face when he stands from his seat, "what do you mean?"

you shake your head while clenching your eyes shut, "i mean- you're someone who surpasses me. you save lives with what you do, a-and i just feel like a distraction to you and your dreams. that's why, i'm break-"

however, your words were cut off when zayne grips at your chin before pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. it was enough to make your mind go hazy, forgetting all about what you wanted to say to him when he delves his tongue into your mouth. your respective tongues fought for dominance, and you were losing this battle against him.

"z-zayne, stop, i-i can't think clearly when you do t-this."

zayne let's out a sound between a grunt and a groan, "then don't think, just feel."

and just feel you did.

all forms of coherency were lost the moment zayne places you on top of his desk, shoving aside all of his paperwork before kneeling before you. with your pants off, zayne spreads your legs all while pocketing your panties, wasting no time when he shoves his face within your slick heat.

his tongue was felt tracing at your pussy lips, making you cry out as your hands automatically delve themselves into his hair. you tried to bite down at your bottom lip, not wishing for anyone to see you in this compromising position with your exboyfriend.

knowing the ins and outs of your body intimately well, zayne was able to curve his fingers and swirl his tongue within the depths of your walls. he expertly draws out your honeyed arousal with a groan, and with a final pinch felt at your bundle of nerves, you released yourself completely into his hot mouth.

the intensity of your orgasm kept you in a daze, making you dimly aware of the sounds of shifting fabric before something hot and velvety was felt pressing against your entrance. a single grunt of your name was all the warning you were given when zayne pushes his cock inside of you, not stopping until he was completely sheathed.

zayne sets a steady pace, gripping at your clothed chest while ramming his cock in and out of you. he was panting, unable to ignore the sensation of your tight walls gripping him so sweetly when he tells you-

"i won't let you leave me... not when you're the only thing that keeps me grounded in this world."

you knew that your boyfriend's life was not only busy, but filled with danger as well.

it wasn't easy, working as a hunter while coming home exhausted nearly every single day. and despite how lonely you felt without him by your side, you figured it was best to end things now before it got too serious.

your heart was still a wreck at the thought of it all, because really, could you break things off with someone sweet like xavier? could you bear the thought of seeing his innocent, blue eyes filling with tears as you broke it off with him?

but at the same time, wouldn't he be better off without you? where he wouldn't need to think about your happiness-

your heart jumps within your chest when you heard the sounds of the door unlocking, revealing xavier as he alerts you of his return. tired, blue eyes met with your panicked gaze, and you felt so anxious that you simply blurted out-

"let's break up."

the sleepy quality of his eyes were gone now, with xavier standing up rigidly, "what?"

you refuse to meet his gaze, afraid that you would turn into a coward and back out. choosing instead to ignore him, you began to ramble all while gathering your belongings together, "it's just, well, you work all the time, and it wears you out. it feels unfair of me to take away all of your time and i just- you deserve less stress in your life, and i'm certainly not helping, being a burden and all, a-and-"

your rants were cut off when xavier stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your front before picking you up. a flustered expression was seen on your face, and you tried to wiggle yourself out of his embrace-

only to feel xavier's arms tighten around you, ignoring your protests when he enters the bedroom before placing you on the bed.

"we are not over." xavier speaks to you in a matter-of-fact tone. "and just to prove that you're wrong..."

he hums, eyes never once looking away from you even as he places his hands down the waistband of your pants, making you gasp when you feel his calloused hands touching at the border of your entrance. "you're not a burden to me... you never were, and you never will be."

you end up gasping while arching your back against the bed, feeling xavier's slender fingers dip inside of you. he thrusts his fingers in and out of your slickness all while pinching at your clit. unable to stop him, you were only able to grip at his biceps, your back arching against the bed as xavier thrusts his fingers in and out of you. the overwhelming sensations of pleasure were almost too much for you to handle-

yet xavier refuses to stop.

he keeps on toying with your aching core, drawing out even more moisture from you when you suddenly released yourself against the palm of his hands just mere seconds later. letting out a hum of your name, xavier extracts his hand from your now soaked panties, admiring the shiny quality of his fingers as evident of your release.

curious blue eyes admire his stained fingers for a moment before putting it in his mouth to lick it clean. "hng... so sweet..." he meets your flustered gaze, blue eyes now eclipsed with darkness as evident of his desire. "i need more..."

filled with desperation and need for you, xavier grips at your clothes, seeming to rip them away from your body before tossing it in a pile on the ground. with both of your bodies left bare, xavier wastes no time when placing his face between your legs, devouring your soaked core a man starved-

and when he manages to thrust his cock within your silken walls, let's just say you both forgot about your talk of breaking up.

"let's forget all this talk about us being over... and have you ride my face instead."

your eyes go wide upon hearing rafayel's bold words, and you found yourself at a standstill now.

knowing rafayel's passion for art, you felt like you had gotten in the way of his work. there were times where you felt like you were a nuisance to him, especially when he had to stop working on a commission each time you came over, or even called him, voicing your desires to be with him.

despite how rafayel never minded sharing his time with you, your anxieties kept telling you otherwise, the scathing voice in your mind filling your heart with doubt.

like how you were simply an unnecessary distraction for him-

that you were someone that got in the way of his work and dreams-

that rafayel never needed you.

deep down, you knew that your boyfriend never viewed you in such a manner because of how much he loved you-

yet in the end, you allowed your deprecation to win, convincing both your heart and mind that rafayel was only with you out of pity.

but when you tried to break things off with him-

rafayel simply met your gaze while demanding that you ride his face instead.

were you missing something?

"rafayel, didn't you hear what i just said? we're ov-"

"oh i heard you loud and clear, alright. i just refuse to do it." the young lemurian purposely cuts off your words all while giving you a come hither movement with his hand, "now, why don't you be a good girl and ride my face instead?" rafayel was practically purring at you, "i know my princess just feels a little stressed, and she didn't mean to say all those mean things to me."

your traitorous body clenches in response to his seductive words, with your heart racing out of his chest the moment rafayel takes off his shirt. seduction was seen in his gaze when he pulls down his pants and boxers, not stopping until he was utterly bare for you. your eyes immediately see the way his cock slowly became erect for you, making your mouth water at the sight.

swallowing thickly, you could do little than to allow rafayel to grip at your hand, leading you back towards the bed. giving you a wink, rafayel grips at your backside before giving it an audible smack, "you know what you want to do, princess."

your boyfriend was smirking at you, letting out one last hum of your name before laying down in bed. your heart begins to skip its beats as you trail your eyes down to his cock once more, your cunt clenching at the sight of how it twitched in anticipation, waiting for you.

with trembling fingers, you shakily unbutton your blouse, allowing the thin fabric to fall to the ground as your shorts and panties follow suit. when you were left in your bra, you sigh and unclasp it, tossing it to the ground before climbing on top of the bed.

rafayel's gaze turns hungry when he sees your figure approaching him. "that's it, that's my girl." he grips at your wrist, pulling your body toward him as he slides you until your soaked entrance was directly over his face.

"fuck, such a pretty little flower..." you nearly fell on top of him when his finger traced at your pussy lips, teasing you as a rich chuckle escapes from his lips. "all wet and ready for me... come on, princess, you know what you want to do."

unable to resist him any longer, you bite down on your bottom lip and land on top of his mouth, rubbing your slick walls over his mouth. you shiver upon feeling his groan vibrating through you, tossing your head back as his tongue manages to travel inside of you, massaging at your slickness.

"hah..." you felt breathless, your thighs already squeezing rafayel's head as you tried to chase your high. no longer thinking about anything that wasn't rafayel's face buried within your sweet cunt, you continued to ride him, tossing your head back each time his tongue tried to reach even deeper inside of you.

your moans and his muffled grunts were all that you could hear, and when you tried to quicken your pace-

you found yourself needing something bigger to help with assuaging the painful ache between your legs. looking behind, your eyes widen upon seeing the way rafayel's hand desperately gripped at his cock, giving it quick and fast strokes while his tongue kept delving into your core.

not even fully comprehending your actions, you lazily got off of his face, purposely rubbing your wet heat down his chest as rafayel struggled to sit up, "princess? why'd you stop?"

but you ignore his question, not stopping your slow descent across his body until your slick walls gripped at the underside of his cock. you bask in the way the veins seemed to pulse against you, making you let out a dreamy sigh when you gently gripped at his shaft.

"b-baby-"

a low hiss was heard coming from rafayel when you slap his cock against your entrance for a few brief moments before holding it in place, allowing yourself to sink down on him. the young artist ends up tossing his head back at the sensation, letting out a string of curses, "fuck yes! that's it princess, that's it... my pretty girl..."

rafayel was left a babbling mess now, praising you in an almost drunk manner the moment you kept bouncing yourself up and down his cock. "that's my good girl, such a good girl f'me...- fuck!"

you loud cries and whiny moans echo throughout the room, and you rode rafayel's cock with a reckless abandon, earning a smirk from him when he manages to tell you,

"this is where you belong, princess, right here, bouncing up and down on my cock."

end notes: my thirst for my fave lads men have returned 🫠 i swear i had this in my drafts since early october, so im happy that i was able to think of a good plot for it just now ;A;

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus smut #zayne smut #xavier smut #rafayel smut #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x you #zayne x you #xavier x you #rafayel x you #lnds smut #lads smut #writings 📖#l&ds smut

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cameronsbabydoll · 4 months ago

Note

imagine !reader wanting to go to the movies to see some new animated disney movie that came out, only for rafe to tease her and say smth like “i can’t be seen at some kid movie, i’m a powerful business man”, just for her to come back from the beach the next day with the house decorated as a personal movie theater and rafe in the kitchen making popcorn after he bought !readers fav sour candies

Rafe had been so smug about it the day before.

When you begged him to take you to see the new animated Disney movie, all bright-eyed and excited, he just gave you that condescending little smirk, shaking his head. “Baby, I can’t be seen at some kid’s movie. I’m a powerful businessman.” His voice was laced with amusement, teasing you like you were asking him to sit at the kids’ table during a corporate dinner.

You pouted, dramatically crossing your arms. “Fine. I’ll just go by myself.”

Rafe had only chuckled, kissed your forehead, and sent you off with a playful pat on your ass. You didn’t even think twice about it.

But the next day—oh, the next day.

You stepped into the penthouse to find it completely transformed. The living room was pitch dark, blackout curtains drawn, with a makeshift movie theater setup. The TV was queued up with the very same Disney movie you’d gone to see, and plush blankets and pillows were thrown all over the couch. There was even a little ticket stub on the coffee table, hand-written in Rafe’s lazy scrawl: For my VIP princess only.

And then there was Rafe.

In the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, standing over the stove with a serious expression, carefully shaking a pot of fresh popcorn. You could see bags of your favorite sour candies lined up on the counter, along with one of those absurdly large soda cups that only theaters carried.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. “Rafe…”

He barely glanced up, still focused on the popcorn. “Changed my mind. Turns out, powerful businessmen can host private screenings.”

You bit your lip, warmth bubbling in your chest. “So, what? You suddenly had the urge to watch an animated princess movie?”

Rafe smirked, finally looking at you. “Nah. Just had the urge to see my girl happy.”

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sofiasworld00 · 6 months ago

Text

Streamin’

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando and reader on stream w Max just chatting shit.

Warnings: just fluff.

Word count: 1K (ish)

“Alright, alright, we’re live,” Lando announced, grinning at the camera. “Be nice to us today, chat.”

“Speak for yourself,” Max chimed in, leaning back in his own chair. “I’m always nice. It’s you two we need to worry about. PDA central over there.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped. “Jealous, Max?” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at Lando, who smirked as he clicked around on his setup.

“Jealous? Of what? Sitting uncomfortably while streaming?” Max shot back, raising an eyebrow at the screen.

“It’s not uncomfortable,” Lando argued, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. “Y/N’s like a…weighted blanket. Keeps me focused.”

The chat went wild at that, spamming laughing emojis and “LMAO” in rapid succession. You leaned closer to read a few messages, your face lighting up. “‘Lando’s whipped,’” you read aloud, laughing. “See? Chat gets it.”

“Of course they do. It’s obvious,” Max deadpanned. “You’ve got the man sitting there like a lovesick puppy.”

“I am not a puppy,” Lando said indignantly, though the grin tugging at his lips said otherwise. He tapped his mic. “Alright, chat. What do you want to know? Max is here. I’m here. Y/N is here. Ask away.”

“Dangerous,” you murmured, leaning into his chest as you scrolled through the chat. “You’re giving them too much power.”

Max squinted at his monitor, his forehead scrunching. “First question is for me. ‘Max, when are you getting a girlfriend?’” He snorted, shaking his head. “Wow. Straight to the point.”

“Yeah, Max, when are you getting a girlfriend?” Lando teased, his chin brushing the top of your head. “Or are you too busy third-wheeling?”

“I am not third-wheeling! I’m—” Max paused, reading another chat message and bursting into laughter. “‘Max is the poster child for single awareness month.’ Alright, you lot are ruthless.”

“Chat, be nice,” you said, though you couldn’t help your giggle. “Max is a catch. Right, Lando?”

Lando hummed noncommittally. “Yeah, sure. If you like loud, annoying people.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” Max groaned, feigning offense. “I should just leave you two to your little couple’s stream.”

The chat erupted again, half of it teasing Max, while the other half flooded with messages about you and Lando. You leaned closer to the screen to read some of them, your cheeks warming. “‘How long have you and Lando been together?’” you read aloud, looking up at him.

“Two years,” Lando answered instantly, his voice softening. “Best two years of my life, not gonna lie.”

“Aw,” Max interjected sarcastically, making a gagging noise. “And here I thought this was gonna be a fun stream.”

“Shut it,” Lando said, grinning as he threw a virtual item at Max in the game they were queued up for. “You’re just mad because chat likes us better.”

You laughed, resting your head on Lando’s shoulder as he navigated through the game menus. His fingers were quick on the keyboard, but his free hand stayed on your hip, absentmindedly tracing small circles. The gesture was comforting, grounding, and you could tell by the way chat continued to spam heart emojis that they noticed too.

“Alright, serious question now,” Max said, squinting dramatically at the screen. “‘Y/N, who’s funnier: Lando or Max?’”

You paused, biting back a smile as you felt both of their gazes on you. “Oh, that’s easy. Me.”

Max doubled over laughing while Lando groaned loudly, leaning back in his chair. “Traitor,” Lando muttered, though his grin gave him away.

“Chat, back me up here,” you said, pointing at the camera. “I’m the funniest, right?”

The flood of “Y/N supremacy” messages that followed made Lando shake his head in mock defeat. “Unbelievable. You’ve got them all wrapped around your finger.”

“Just like you,” you quipped, earning a low chuckle from him.

The stream continued in the same playful, lighthearted rhythm, with the three of you bantering back and forth and answering questions from chat. Lando occasionally leaned closer to the camera to read something, his curls brushing your cheek, and each time he did, the chat would erupt with comments about how soft he looked with you.

By the end of it, Max had threatened to block half the chat for calling him single (again), and Lando had leaned back in his chair, holding you closer as the stream wound down.

“Alright, chat,” Lando said, smiling lazily. “Thanks for hanging out. Be nice to Max in the comments, yeah?”

“Yeah, right,” Max grumbled, though he waved at the camera. “See you all next time, maybe. If I survive this public humiliation.”

As the stream ended and the screen went black, Lando kissed your temple softly. “Still think letting chat have free rein was a good idea?” he teased.

You shrugged, smiling. “They loved it. And they love us. So yeah, totally worth it.”

“Guess I can’t argue with that,” he murmured, holding you close as the laughter from the stream lingered in the air.

thank u for reading! i appreciate feedback from you as well.

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris comfort #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #fluff #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader

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littlelamy · 3 months ago

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title: birthday sex with your husband

warnings: 18+, smut

notes୧: alexa play 'in da club'

paris still clings to you—on your skin, in your hair, in the way your body feels weightless from champagne and indulgence, like you’ve been sculpted from something finer, softer, made only for pleasure. rafe made sure of that. from the moment you woke up wrapped in silk sheets to the second he dragged you off the private jet, he’s given you everything.

and now, in the sprawling presidential suite, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, he’s about to give you more.

“birthday girl looks so fucking pretty,” rafe murmurs, voice thick, low, vibrating against your skin as he presses you into the massive bed. the air still smells like roses and sex, like the bottle of wine he ordered before he pulled you onto his lap, lips trailing down your neck while he fed you strawberries, one by one. “been spoiling you all day. hm think i gonna ruin you now.”

his fingers trace your thigh, slow, teasing, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he pushes your legs apart. he doesn’t rush—no, he never rushes, not when he has you like this, spread out for him, waiting, wanting.

“what do you think, birthday girl?” he murmurs, teeth grazing your collarbone, lips soothing the bite with a kiss. “you want me to take my time? or you want it rough?”

you whimper, hips rolling up to meet the teasing stroke of his fingers, already slick, already aching. “rough,” you whisper, breathless.

rafe pulls back just enough to look at you, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. “yeah?” his fingers press deeper, teasing, making you writhe. “not very lady-like, is it?” he taunts, smirking as your breath hitches. “but hey, it’s the birthday girl’s choice.”

his words send a fresh wave of heat flooding through you, and you don’t care how desperate you sound when you nod, whimpering, “please, rafe.”

he chuckles, and fuck, it’s sinful, the way he does it, full of dark promise. “gonna need more than that, sweetheart.” his thumb brushes over your clit, featherlight, teasing, making your breath hitch. “use your words.”

“want you,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, legs falling wider as he slides down, kissing a path between your thighs. “need you—need your mouth—”

“that’s my good girl.” his voice is pure sin, all honey and heat, before his tongue replaces his fingers, slow and languid, savoring every moan, every squirm, every desperate pull of his hair as he ruins you with his mouth.

he worships you, the way he always does, but tonight—tonight it’s different. tonight, almost like you’re his birthday gift, and he’s going to unwrap you slowly, thoroughly, until you’re trembling, begging, coming undone beneath him over and over until your body forgets how to do anything but take him.

when he finally slides inside you, stretching you open, filling you to the hilt, his name is the only thing you know how to say, the only thing you can cling to as he fucks you deep, slow at first—just to make you whine, just to hear you plead for more—before his grip tightens and he gives you exactly what you begged for.

hard. deep. devastating.

“mine,” he breathes against your lips, swallowing your moans, rolling his hips just right, hitting every spot that makes you shake. “all fucking mine.”

paris is beautiful, but nothing compares to the way rafe devours you—like you’re the only thing in the world worth celebrating.

edited: going to take a break from this account for a couple days...the last part of catching him cheating is queued for tomorrow around 12 pm! if you need anything ill be on @littlesoulshine <3 as i approach 4k followers i do want to thank every single one of you because i created this account because i was simply in love with rafe and obx and a lot of you have made this community so fun for me and can't thank you enough. i will create a 4k celebration, and on this break, i will finish my requests! OH and please continue to tag me in everything!!!!

tags (lmk if you want to be removed): @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @bevstofu @wintercrows

#rafey ᘚ #littlelamyposts༄࿔#dividers from plum98 #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe #rafe cameron x reader

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natsaffection · 3 months ago

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Redline. (Bonus 4) | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha × Younger!Racing!Driver!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (N= 32, r=23), 18+! MINORS DNI! Restraints (handcuffs), strap on use, blowjob, oral (n receiving), strap riding

Word count: 3,8k

A/N: That was fun..

You were sitting in a team meeting, eyes blankly fixed on the screen where telemetry charts blinked in rhythmic flashes. Data, stats, numbers, normally you were locked into them. But today, the entire thing washed over you like white noise.

Because you weren’t thinking about tire degradation. Or fuel windows. Or even the race coming up. You were thinking about Natasha. It was just a flash in your mind, but it made your stomach twist with heat and giddiness.

Across the table, Natasha’s brows lifted. “Something funny, detka?”

You flinched like a kid caught daydreaming in class. “N-Nope. Just-uh. Sector times.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed playfully. She knew. Not what you were thinking, but that it wasn’t sector times. Your face flushed. You gave a quick nod, muttered something about needing water, and bolted out of the meeting room, heart pounding.

You took a breath and let it out slowly, willing your skin to cool down. But the image..Natasha beneath you, panting..refused to leave. Then, just ahead near the security booth, you spotted a man you barely knew by name, fiddling with a pair of standard-issue handcuffs.

You slowed, watching him casually twist them around his fingers. Something inside you clicked. Perfect.

With a growing smirk, you approached. “Hi!” you called gently.

The guard nearly dropped the cuffs. “Oh! Uh- Ms. L/n, h-hello!”

You grinned, holding back a laugh at how pink he turned. “No need to panic. I just…saw the cuffs.” You motioned to his hands. “Think I could borrow them for a few days?”

He blinked. “The…The cuffs?”

“Yes..” you nodded, completely casual, though your heart was racing. “Not for, like, arresting people. Just…practice.” You offered a crooked smile that probably didn’t help.

He stared for a beat, then nodded so hard it nearly shook his cap off. “Y-Yeah! Of course! You can totally- uh, here.” He offered them with both hands like you were royalty.

You took them carefully, feeling the cold weight of them in your palms.

“Thanks, really.” you said.

“I know you’re probably busy…but…my kids are a huge fan! C-Could we make a photo?”

“Of course! You gave me your cuffs. Least I can do.” He fumbled his phone out so fast he nearly dropped it, and you leaned in with a bright smile, snapping a quick photo before giving him a quick wave and strolling off, handcuffs tucked in your hoodie pocket, heart pounding.

Now, your room became a workshop. The cuffs lay on the table beside your laptop as you queued up video after video, escape artists, magicians, tactical demos. All of them showing quick, fluid techniques. One-handed flips, snap-click-lock or misdirection.

You practiced until your wrist ached. Pick up from the left. Fake a caress. Flip. Click. Pick up from behind. Loop the wrist. Snap it shut in one smooth motion.

You dropped them at least twenty times. Cursed under your breath just as often. But the vision..Natasha, hands locked above her head, blinking in surprise as you stepped back with a devilish smile, kept you going.

You rehearsed your lines in the mirror, cheeks warm with nerves. Sometimes you had to stop, burying your face in your hands and giggling like a teenager. But each night, you got faster. Smoother. Until you could click both cuffs shut in under three seconds. It had to be fast.. Because Natasha didn’t surrender easily.

Days later, the door slammed shut behind you, laughter and adrenaline still buzzing between kisses. You didn’t even remember how you’d made it from the car to the apartment, just that Natasha’s lips hadn’t left yours once.

Natasha was already pressing your back toward the bed, her hands firm on your waist, guiding you like she always did, in control, composed, knowing exactly where this was going.

But tonight, you had other plans..You crashed onto the mattress in a tangle, mouths locked, breath sharp, bodies already buzzing from the familiar fire between you. Natasha’s hand was sliding under your shirt, her thigh nudging between your legs, her rhythm confident, possessive.

Just like always.

You kissed her harder, then shifted. A quick twist. A practiced motion. Natasha landed with a soft grunt on her back. You moved fast, crawling over her, straddling her hips as your fingers dipped behind the pillow, feeling the cool bite of metal.

Natasha didn’t even blink, her hands tugging at your shirt now, eyes hooded. “Mmm, taking charge tonight?” she teased, voice dark velvet.

“Something like that..” you murmured, leaning down to kiss her again, slow this time, deep and purposeful. And as she reached up to cup your jaw..click.

You pulled back. One of Natasha’s wrists was now bound to the bedframe. There was a second of stunned silence. Natasha blinked. Looked up. A flash of confusion, a flicker of surprise, then amusement blooming like wildfire across her face.

You sat back on your thighs, grinning ear to ear, eyes sparkling like a kid who just pulled off the prank of the century.

“Oh my God..” you whispered, practically vibrating. “It actually worked!!”

Natasha laughed softly, raising a brow. “You planned this?”

You nodded, still catching your breath. “For days. Like..full-blown practicing. On myself. On a chair. I made your security guy give me the cuffs.”

“Wait- Mark gave you his cuffs?”

“He was so flustered he didn’t even ask why..” you laughed. “I gave him a selfie to say thanks.”

Natasha just shook her head in disbelief, still half-laughing. Her free hand was resting on your thigh now, her touch light but warm. “You little thief.”

For a moment, Natasha simply stared at you. And then, she raised her free hand and snapped her fingers.

“Key.”

You reached into your pocket, took the small key between your fingers, and flicked it, sailing it across the room, where it landed somewhere.

Natasha’s brow shot up. “…You didn’t.”

“I did.”

Natasha laughed, a low, dangerous, almost impressed sound. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that..”

She gave the cuff another pull, testing it. Realizing it wasn’t going to budge. Her muscles flexed under you, strong and coiled, and her eyes locked on yours, sharp and unreadable. “You sure you know what you’re doing? You think you can handle me like this?”

You leaned in, lips brushing her ear as you whispered, “I don’t think I can. I know I will.”

Natasha exhaled through her nose, eyes dark with challenge now. “You better make it worth it, sweetheart. Because when I get out of these…” Her free hand trailed slowly down your thigh, grip firm. “You’ll be begging.”

You grinned, hips shifting just right as you settled in. “Guess.. I better make you beg first.”

Natasha leaned back into the pillow, watching you with a predator’s patience. One wrist still cuffed to the bed, the other resting lazily on her stomach like this was just another game she’d already won. But her eyes… they tracked every movement, sharp and focused.

Your hands moved slowly, purposefully, as you started to peel away Natasha’s clothes. Every inch of exposed skin earned you a lingering look, that trademark Romanoff smirk never fading.

“Careful, malysh (baby),” Natasha drawled, voice low and thick with heat. “You undress me like that, and I might think you’re trying to seduce me.”

You just smiled, sweet, smug, and pushed Natasha’s pants down past her hips.

And paused.

Your eyes widened for just a second, a breath catching in your throat as you realized what Natasha was already wearing beneath.

A harness. Strap in place., ready and waiting. “Wha-” you blinked, somewhere between stunned and amused. “You were…you had this on?”

Natasha chuckled, low and dangerous. “You’re not the only one who had plans tonight.”

You looked up, eyes glinting. Natasha tilted her head, smirking like a cat who’d let the mouse think it had a chance. “You want it?” she teased, flexing her hips slightly. “Unlock me. And maybe I’ll let you ride it properly.”

But you didn’t move for the cuffs. Instead, you shifted, lowering yourself between Natasha’s thighs, your mouth now dangerously close to the toy. Your fingers slid over the harness, gaze locked onto hers.

“I’ll use it just fine, thank you..” you murmured and then you wrapped your lips around the tip.

Natasha’s smirk faltered. Her mouth parted, eyes going a little wider as she watched you suck slowly, deliberately, dragging your tongue along the underside like you meant to break her. Her free hand clenched the sheets.

“God..” Natasha breathed, hips shifting instinctively.

You glanced up at her, teasing, and went deeper, taking more of the strap into your mouth, slow, wet sounds filling the room. You hollowed your cheeks, working it like you were showing off, like you knew exactly how much it was affecting her.

And Natasha was affected. Badly. She tugged on the cuff again, harder this time. The chain clinked against the bedframe. “You-” she gasped, a small laugh breaking through her curse. “You little brat…”

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice smug and sweet against the toy. “Still think I can’t handle it?”

Natasha swallowed hard, chest rising and falling with growing tension. “You’re so in trouble when I get out of these..”

You just grinned, lips brushing the base of the strap as you whispered, “Then maybe I’ll keep you there a while longer.”

And without another word, you took the whole thing in, deep, slow, confident, watching Natasha struggle. She was staring down at you, breathing heavier now, eyes slightly glazed, like she couldn’t decide whether to smirk or moan.

“You look so cute like this..” you murmured, voice low. Your fingers trailed slowly over Natasha’s hips as you moved down again,

Natasha’s free hand curled into the sheets. “You’re proud of yourself, huh?” she rasped, voice rough with tension.

You didn’t answer. You just settled between her thighs, nudging them wider. Your hands slid up, palms smooth against soft skin, and then..Your tongue met her core.

The reaction was instant. Natasha tensed, hips twitching off the bed, a soft gasp escaping before she could stop it. She grit her teeth, chest rising sharply, her arm pulling against the cuff again.

You smiled into her. You started slow, using your tongue with purpose, teasing circles and flicks that made her thighs tremble.

Natasha exhaled harshly through her nose, trying to stay quiet, trying to keep her body still. She bit her bottom lip, eyes locked on the ceiling, muscles taut like a wire about to snap.

But then..You found that spot. You pressed your tongue there, slow and firm, then sucked, just once, deep and focused.

Natasha bucked. “F-Fuck—!” The curse burst from her mouth, sharp and unfiltered. Her head snapped back, eyes fluttering shut as her body jerked. She yanked hard against the cuff, her free hand flying to the headboard like she could tear the whole damn thing apart.

You moaned softly at the reaction, proud and fueled by it. You pulled back just enough to whisper, breath hot against her core, “You love this.”

Natasha panted, teeth clenched. “Y/n, Fuck you.”

You laughed, low and dangerous. “Maybe later..”

And then you dove back in, tongue working faster, deeper, mouth devouring her like you wanted to leave her breathless and wrecked. Every twitch, every shaky breath, every curse spilling from her lips only pushed you further.

She tried to hold back, tried to keep the illusion of control, but it was slipping.. You could feel the tension coiling beneath her skin like a live wire. Her thighs trembled with every flick of your tongue, and her breath came in ragged bursts, sharp, guttural, completely unguarded.

But she still hadn’t said the word. Not the one you wanted to hear. You smirked against her, dragging your tongue in slow, lazy strokes, circling her clit without pressure, just enough to make her need it, not enough to let her fall. You flattened your tongue and licked her again, then pulled away entirely, letting your breath ghost over her skin.

She cursed under her breath, hips jerking up, chasing the contact. “Oh? That close already?” you purred, kissing her inner thigh. “And you haven’t even told me what you want..”

You looked up through your lashes. Natasha’s eyes were dark, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast. She was beautiful. Ruined. Desperate. But still clinging to her pride.

“Hah…” she exhaled through her teeth, free hand gripping the sheets hard. “You think this is new to me, baby? You think I haven’t been edged before?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, but not by me..Common Nat..”

Then you leaned back in and sucked her clit, deep and wet, just for a second. Natasha cried out, still not a single word, not a plea, just a raw, broken sound. Her hips bucked hard, her body chasing every inch of pressure like it was the only thing grounding her.

You pulled back again. “You gonna ask for it?” you whispered, licking your lips.

Natasha shook her head, breathing hard. “No fucking way.”

You raised a brow. “You sound like you’re about to lose your mind.”

“Y/n.” she hissed.

You kissed the inside of her thigh again, dragged your nails lightly down her skin, then dipped your head once more, letting your tongue work with new intensity, hard, fast, deep.

And she lost it. She rolled her hips, chasing every flick of your tongue. Her head slammed back against the pillow, one arm still restrained, the other clenched in the sheets so tight it might rip them apart.

Still..no begging. Just gasps, groans and curses. You pressed your tongue flat again, relentless, never breaking rhythm. You knew she was there, right there, teetering, and you didn’t plan to let her fall until she was exactly where you wanted her.

“You’re shaking..” you whispered, licking slowly up again. “Please Natasha..let me hear it..”

Natasha grit her teeth, eyes fluttering shut. “I swear t-to god…”

You smiled. “Still not?”

Her only answer was a strangled moan that sounded almost like a yes. And you accepted it.. So you went all in, tongue deep, rhythm perfect, sucking and circling and dragging her right into release.

She screamed..a raw, guttural sound, hips jerking, body writhing, orgasm ripping through her. Her hand pulled at the cuff like she could tear the bed apart, thighs clamped around your head as wave after wave hit her.

Still, no: “please.” Just wild, shattered moans. You didn’t stop until she collapsed, chest heaving, eyes blown wide with aftershock.

Then you crawled up her body, kissed the corner of her mouth, and whispered, “That was better than begging.”

Natasha lay there chest rising and falling, one arm bound, the other limp on the sheets, knuckles white from how hard she’d gripped them. A slow smirk crept across her face, heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours as you leaned up slightly.

“Huh..” she breathed, voice rough and low, “you really went for it..I can’t believe it..” She whispered while brushing a bit of sweat from her forehead.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, flushed and proud, crawling back up her body.

“You did good..” Natasha added, a cocky gleam in her eye despite how wrecked she looked. “I’ll give you that.”

You smiled sweetly…Too sweet. “Thanks.” you said simply, brushing a kiss to her cheek.

Natasha let her eyes fall shut for a moment, until she felt movement. Her eyes fluttered open again…and froze.

You were straddling her again. But this time? You weren’t going down to tease. You were going up.

Natasha’s breath caught as you positioned yourself over the strap still strapped to her hips, slick, already aching. Your hands rested on her stomach for balance, your expression calm…but your eyes burned with intent.

“Wait-” Natasha said, a slow smirk forming. “You’re not-”

You didn’t answer. You just started to lower yourself. Natasha’s pupils snapped wide.

“Y/n-” she grunted, jerking at the cuff instinctively, the chain clanging against the headboard with a force that made your head snap around.

You blinked. That was a strong pull. For a second, your eyes flicked up toward the frame, half-worried the metal might actually snap.

Natasha noticed. Her smirk turned lethal. “Oh?” she purred, voice dripping with danger. “You’re nervous now?”

You looked back at her slowly, a little breathless…but still smiling. “N-No.”

You lowered yourself further. The strap pushed inside you, slick and easy, but thick enough to make you gasp. Your fingers tightened on Natasha’s stomach.

Her jaw tensed, her arm flexing again. You exhaled slowly, rolling your hips downward inch by inch. You took it all the way in.

Seated flush against her. And Natasha groaned loud, helpless, her head falling back against the pillow as her hips instinctively tried to thrust, but had nowhere to go. All she could do was feel it.

“Jesus..” she choked out. “You’re- fuck, you’re soaked..”

You ground your hips in a slow circle, the pressure hitting just right. “I wonder why..”

You straightened again, hands sliding up your own body, down your thighs as you began to ride harder, deeper..slow, grinding, working yourself against the strap like you owned it. Like you owned her.

Natasha cursed under her breath, head tossing against the pillow. Her hips tried to follow, to thrust up, but with one hand chained and you in complete control, she couldn’t do anything but take it.

“Y/n..” she gasped. “You’re gonna make- feel so—!”

Another roll of your hips cut her off. Another deep, wet sound as you slid back down. Natasha’s eyes snapped shut, her chest arching, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt. “I can’t-” she hissed.

You slowed again, pulling back until only the tip remained inside you, teasing the edge. Natasha whimpered..whimpered! And it wasn’t even intentional. You leaned down, your breath brushing over her mouth. “Can’t what, Natty?”

Her eyes fluttered open, dark, desperate, wrecked. She didn’t say the word..She couldn’t. But her eyes were begging. And you saw it.

You kissed her hard, biting, dominant, then sat back up, thighs trembling now from the slow burn as you dropped back down onto the strap, deep and hard, a slick sound filling the space between your bodies.

Natasha moaned, long, loud, involuntary. Her hand pulled at the cuff again, the chain rattling violently. “Y/n! G-God!!” Her voice was wrecked now, breathless, right on the edge. “You’re gonna- drive me fucking insane..”

You grinned, riding with perfect rhythm now, grinding deep against her, back arching as you let yourself chase the high. “That’s the plan.”

And Natasha? Helpless. Breathless. Drenched. Her mind slipping between pleasure and surrender, just barely holding onto that last thread of control.

She was breaking. Every inch of her body was flushed, trembling beneath you, breath ragged, voice reduced to raw, gasping moans. Her cuffed hand was bruised from how hard she’d pulled, and the other, finally reached up, grabbing at your waist, your side, anything she could touch.

“I need to-” Natasha groaned, fingers digging in. “Let me- fuck, I need—”

Your eyes widened slightly at the strength in her grip. Even in this state, she could flip you if she wanted.

But not this time. You grabbed her wrist with both hands, firm, focused, and pushed it back down to the bed.

“No touching..” you whispered, voice trembling with lust. “You don’t get to take tonight, Nat..”

Natasha let out a frustrated, wild noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan. “You’re.. gonna kill me..”

You leaned down, panting into her ear, hips slamming down hard onto the strap. You locked eyes with her, hands pinning her down, both arms restrained, one by cold metal, the other by your strength and sheer desire.

And then..You rode her. No more teasing. No more games. Just fast, filthy, relentless rhythm. Wetness coating everything. The sound of skin on skin filling the room. Your hips slammed down again and again, the strap hitting deep, you grinding hard against it with every bounce, every drop.

Natasha was gone. Her head tossed, mouth wide open, moans choked and broken. Her thighs flexed, her whole body trembling, helpless beneath you.

“Y/n- fuck- I’m..!” And she came.

Harder than before..louder, rawer, her voice breaking on your name. Her hips jolted, back arching off the bed, trembling uncontrollably.

And still..you didn’t stop. You chased your own release, using her body as your anchor. You moaned, breath hitching, the sight of her flushed and ruined pushing you over.

“Fuck..” you gasped, thighs shaking. “I’m gonna..Natasha—oh my G-God!”

You came with a cry, slamming down one last time, your body locking up as the orgasm ripped through you. Your nails dug into her wrists, your whole body trembling as you collapsed forward, grinding softly through the aftershocks.

And when you finally pulled away, the angle shifted. And the tip dragged just right against her again.

“Y-Y/n!” she gasped, body jolting. Her head dropped back, eyes squeezing shut as a choked moan escaped her throat.

You froze, wide-eyed. “s-sorry, I didn’t-”

Natasha let out a breathless laugh, arm flopping over her face. “Careful…” she groaned, voice shaking.

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “Didn’t think that would still hit…”

Natasha peeked at you from under her arm, eyes glassy, lips parted, utterly wrecked. “It hit.”

You chuckled, spotted the key in the corner of the room, and carefully climbed off her. Your hands were still shaking as you picked it up.

When you turned back, Natasha was watching you. Flat on her back, one arm still cuffed, eyes half-lidded but focused now. That smirk from earlier? Gone. Replaced by something unreadable.

You chewed your bottom lip, key tight in your fingers. “You have to promise..” you said softly.

Natasha tilted her head. “Promise what?”

“That you won’t…” you hesitated, glancing at her body, then back up. “Flip this. Take over. The moment I let you go.”

She raised a brow, eyes gleaming. She said nothing. You narrowed your eyes. “Nat.”

Still nothing. Just that faint smile growing. You stepped back. “I’m not unlocking you.”

That earned a low laugh. “You’re bluffing..”

You didn’t move. And this time…she realized you weren’t. She let out a slow breath. “Fine.”

You waited. “I promise.” she said finally, voice low and warm. “I won’t do anything…without your permission.”

You searched her eyes for a long second. Then, slowly, you moved forward. You climbed onto the bed, into her space, and carefully slid the key into the lock.

With a soft click, the cuff popped open. A second passed. Maybe two- She moved like lightning. Flipping you beneath her in one fluid motion, your wrists immediately caught and pinned above your head.

You gasped, eyes wide. “Y-You promised!”

Natasha leaned down, nose brushing yours, eyes dark with heat.

“I did.” she whispered. “And I’m keeping it.” She didn’t move further. Didn’t dominate. Just held you there. Breathing the same air.

You blinked up at her, stunned. And then she kissed you. When she pulled back, her voice was barely a murmur. “Thank you for tonight.”

You swallowed. “You’re not mad?”

Natasha smiled, brushing her nose against yours. “Are you kidding? I’ve never been more turned on.”

Her grip softened. Her forehead rested gently against yours.

“But next time…” she whispered, lips brushing your ear, “You better run after you unlock me.”

You laughed, heart pounding. “Deal.”

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