#(there's like three of them in here. one is a rabbit)

[laser-tripwires]

there's that Girl's Night Out Job deleted scene that I just can't stop thinking about at the moment.

"Tell me about the first thing you stole." "Mr Bunny. Yeah! He's my first friend."

parker was so alone, for SUCH a long time. and both the nigerian job and the stork job are pretty clear about the fact that she was beaten and starved as a kid. 12 step tells us that it was pathological neglect that drove her to kelptomania; boost job fills in some of the gaps as to how shitty foster parents ended up leaving her as a street kid with a record. she got lucky in picking archie's pocket, but this is still someone who blew up a house aged... what, nine? archie says that when he found her she was "A danger - to herself and to others." which, yeah, no shit.

parker absolutely was half-feral when the team found her, and even if archie had tamed her a little from when she was a kid, it wasn't exactly like he did a great job at teaching her to integrate with society.

instead, that's… what sophie did, and hardison, and to a lesser extent nate and eliot. her family. that she found, that she made, that she grew up into a place at. she tried to be something she wasn't for them, and they made sure she knew it was okay to be who she was. but at the same time there's a lot of unhealed trauma in her.

to an extent i think there always will be.

her brother died. she didn't even talk about it for two decades. she's fine with jumping off a building but she's terrified of loosing the people around her.

no wonder she had a crisis over the status quo changing. no wonder she was so lost as to who she is, and where, and why. because she knows and feels that darkness in her but she can never be quite sure if who she is is who she is or if she's just a product of the good and bad influences around her. that's half the question she sets out to adress in the side job.

and.

i dunno.

i just keep coming back to that deleted scene, that one line. to the image we get in the nigerian job of a little girl clutching a toy rabbit, her only friend in the world.

to what she says in the side job, about being so hurt as a child.

parker will always have a warmth and an innocence to her that the rest of the team won't. she'll always be the one who believes in santa and is afraid of horses and thinks fall damage isn't real. there will always be an innocence to her. but that innocence will always have an edge, because... "She was broken. You understand that? Parker was broken."

and she found a family, and she tried to be a better person for her family, but it never quite fully clicked. of course she couldn't trust that it did. that darkness, that pain, it's not gonna leave. but neither will the little girl clutching the stuffed build-a-bear toy, because they're one and the same. she's not crazy. she never was.

i don't... have a point here, really. but since watching the side job - and season three of redemption more broadly (a bunch of this post is cribbed from stuff i said @aardvaark a couple of months ago) it just feels like so many thoughts about parker are echoing around in my head. if r1 was harry's redemption and r2 was sophie's, then r3 is parker's - but i love that we never got a single solid conclusion. it's just. yeah.

and i can't stop thinking about that deleted scene.

[film-in-my-soul]

Flower Language | 1,281 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: “How come you’ve got a desiccated rose in here?” Jayce asks, peering into the drawer he’s opened. He was looking for the delicate little screwdriver he’s fairly sure he last saw in Viktor’s hand, but this is more interesting. “You gave it to me,” Viktor says. “You were a little drunk, I think.” Jayce keeps giving Viktor flowers. It probably doesn't mean anything. Viktor keeps them. That probably doesn't mean anything, either.

Armiger | 3,132 | starkly / @ironized

Summary: There is so much red and gold in Viktor's life. On their clothes, on the decor, on the trinkets and knickknacks that litter their desks and their shelves. But more than that there is Jayce. Or: Jayce likes to give gifts. Viktor doesn't understand why.

The Butterfly Effect | 10,051 | Vamillepudding / @vamillepudding

Summary: “Who’s there?” Jayce asks loudly. “Show yourself!” Slow footsteps. And then, from behind one of their prototypes, comes – a boy. Nine, maybe ten years old. Pale, brown hair, golden eyes. Ragged clothes. Limping. Jayce frowns. The family resemblance is obvious, but Viktor never mentioned that he had a brother. “Did Viktor bring you here?” “Viktor?” the boy asks, frowning right back at him. “I’m Viktor.” Due to a failed experiment, Viktor is turned into a child. Suddenly on his own and feeling desperately out of his depth, Jayce does his best to take care of him while also figuring out a way to bring his partner back.

Take As Needed | 2,145 | JangJaeYul

Summary: Jayce ducks down so they’re on a level. “You okay?” Viktor tears his gaze away from the pills and swims it towards Jayce’s face. “You’re being so nice to me.” He doesn’t mean for it to sound teary, but that’s how it comes out - puzzled and touched and a little bit pathetic. Jayce laughs at him.  “Of course I’m being nice to you. Take those pills.”

Redline | 2,744 | lukewarmoatmeal

Summary: By day, Jayce Talis is Piltover’s golden boy. By night, he’s Hephaestus, a grudge racer with everything to prove. When sabotage threatens his biggest race yet, his only hope is Viktor—the elusive Machine Herald mechanic. A deal is struck, a car is fixed, and Jayce walks away with more than he bargained for. Or; the underground illegal racing AU where Jayce drives fast, Viktor talks shit, and things happen.

annihilation: a love story | 2,878 | sulkybender / @sulkybender

Summary: “You’re mad, aren’t you,” he says, realizing it. “You’re angry.” “Of course I’m angry,” Viktor says quietly. “You threw your life away.” “That was my decision.” “It wasn’t even a decision,” Viktor hisses. “Can you look at me honestly now and tell me that you thought it through at all?” Jayce looks at him, lips parted, helpless. “Go on,” Viktor says, with relish. “What was the plan? Tell me your big wonderful plan.” There’s silence, Viktor’s sharp gold eyes, like the fine edge of an instrument that will cut him open. He can feel it starting now. “Don’t… punish me,” Jayce says finally. “For loving you.”

Claus and Effect | 3,238 | punk_rock_yuppie

Summary: “Oh, uh, you might not recognize me without all the-?” “I do,” Viktor chokes out, “You’re very noticeable.” Santa smiles. “You think so?”

Beneath Apocalyptic Snowflakes | 4,051 | muttshrooms / @hornedgod

Summary: The first year of their Hextech partnership, Viktor learns a lot about Jayce. Close quarters and long working hours will teach you many things about a person that you would never think to ask. As the seasons turn and the leaves outside their lab begin to fall he starts to notice new, distressing behaviors.

I heard you like magic, I've got a wand and a rabbit | 3,404 | map_of_mysteries / @map-of-mysteries

Summary: “How about this,” Powder says. “You go flirt with Mr. Muscle over there, and you’ll get first pick on time slots for three months. No matter the outcome. Deal?” Viktor hates that he’s tempted. “You know you want it~” Viktor caves. “One pick-up line.” Powder’s grin is manic. “Deal!"

the heart is hard to translate | 7,693 | jasspurr / @jasspurr

Summary: They don't talk about it. Jayce wants to talk about it. He wants to pull Viktor aside and beg him to say it out loud. To put the unspoken message behind all of these little gestures into words so that he doesn't have to sit there and rip his hair out guessing. But he can't. Because – and this is the punchline – he’s terrified that, if he does, all of it will stop.

Operator, dial 1-800-1-VIKTOR | 2,185 | dioscums

Summary: It’s a school night and Viktor really shouldn’t be using the telephone at one in the morning to talk to his boyfriend, Jayce.

Exclusive Appetites | 2,937 | fenfyre (Jace) / @fenfyre

Summary: After a failed supply run to the Undercity Jayce stumbled upon Viktor indulging in one of his more decadent hobbies. The most noticeable was the mask. A gorgeous, intricate piece of art hewn from bronze coloured metal shaped into the likings of a bird. The forehead was decorated with a smatter of delicate gears that trailed all the way down along the left temple. A round piece of glass covered the right eye, reflecting the low light of flickering candles, and the beak was curved just enough to reveal pale lips at the right angle.

Fumbling Prayer | 3,473 | jackalhowl

Summary: Jayce bends down, kisses the matching dimples at the small of Viktor’s back; he sinks his canines into the gentle rise of one cheek. Viktor’s good leg twitches, kicking out blindly, and he splutters an indignant little laugh into the sheets. “Tenderizing your meal?” he drawls at Jayce sarcastically, but there’s something pulled taut in his voice. Anticipation. His hips cant further upwards by a fraction of a degree, almost invisible but unmistakable. It’s always so subtle with Viktor, but Jayce has learned to read every part of him. He’s presenting for Jayce. It’s irresistible. Fuck, Viktor is always irresistible – but when he relents like this? Offers himself up and allows Jayce to manhandle him? Yeah.

onanist | 3,692 | blue_moon_blooming

Summary: This isn’t the first time he’s done this—long nights alone in the lab have given him plenty of opportunity to…indulge. And he knows what will come after. The guilt, the shame, the familiar disgust with himself. It’s never stopped him before, though. And it doesn’t stop him now. While Jayce is out rubbing shoulders with Piltover’s elite, Viktor broods in the lab. And by broods I mean he jerks off with Jayce’s jacket while being a certified freak.

low ground advantage | 3,877 | animediac / @jaywalkers

Summary: “Come on,” Jayce murmurs, voice low. “Do you need help?” “To sleep? I’m not a chi—” Viktor trails off, when Jayce’s hand moves from the edge of the couch to the buckle of Viktor’s belt. “Jayce.” “What?” Jayce shoots him an innocent look. “I’m just doing my due diligence as a concerned lab partner”

mouth open | 4,912 | frankie_31 / @were-weenkie

Summary: Jayce Talis, the company COO, won’t stop calling Viktor. At first, it just seems like regular IT issues but then Jayce’s equipment starts dying in strange, unusual ways and Viktor begins to think that maybe Jayce is trying to tell him something.

like a stone | 5,533 | bitethehands

Summary: "Wait another hour. If you still feel nothing, you can have some more." He forcibly directs his focus to the book and hears the subtle shifting again. He doesn’t think Viktor realises he’s doing it. The dark thing turns in Jayce’s stomach. It’s not going to take an hour.

zero seconds since | 5,921 | annorii

Summary: There's a first time for everything.

Kinda I Want To | 6,456 | Anonymous

Summary: Jayce doubled over, his body relaxing a little bit as he coughed, still refusing to focus on anything but Viktor. But, now, this focus was less fear and confusion and more… disbelief. When he caught his breath, he slumped down to sit on the floor. “Viktor?” Viktor just nodded. Jayce let out a few raspy breaths from the back of his throat like he was laughing. “Prove it. Prove it, say something that only he would know.” “You don't know me well enough yet for that to work.”

for goodness' sake | 6,717 | WhoTheBuckIsStucky / @kjmsupremacist

Summary: Viktor calls Jayce "good boy" once, casual and offhand, and it feels anything but casual to Jayce. Viktor notices and decides to use this power for evil.

Some Enchanted Evening | 6,994 | AppleSharon / @applesharonfiction

Summary: “Do you ever get jealous of me?” he asks Viktor after taking a small sip. He steels himself for Viktor’s answer. The tapping sound of Viktor’s cane is steady against the stone floor of the terrace. It’s familiar. “No. I do not envy your position, Jayce. If anything after tonight I feel…I feel like perhaps I should have come to a few more of these events with you earlier.” Jayce always wants Viktor at his side. Viktor has trouble understanding why.

In the Spaces Between | 7,443 | Disguised_Bird

Summary: In the gleaming halls of Piltover’s Academy, Jayce and Viktor are more than just brilliant partners—they are soulmates brought together by ambition, trust, and an unrelenting pursuit of progress. But when an intimate moment at a high-society gala blurs the lines between their work and their emotions, Viktor finds himself questioning everything he thought he understood about their partnership. Caught between their Hextech dream and the simmering tension they can no longer ignore, Jayce and Viktor must navigate the uncharted territory of desire, vulnerability, and trust. In the spaces between equations and quiet glances, they may find that they are inextricably bound not just by their work, but by something deeper.

Personal Lies | 7,740 | MarionetteFtHJM / @marionettefthjm

Summary: Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. But three times? Three times is someone perpetuating a baseless rumor. The nature of the gossip is much like that of sound waves. Word travels, and it does so at an alarming speed. Whether it were the three assistants or someone else, the rumor seems to have caught everyone ablaze, spreading like wildfire. He needs to put a stop to this before it's too late.

fragile state | 8,222 | notsolstice

Summary: “It appears to be a mild concussion, all things considered. I’ll give him something for the pain and will keep him here overnight for observation, and he should recover soon with adequate rest. Which means he’s out of the ring for at least a month—” Viktor stops abruptly mid-sentence. It’s probably because Jayce has leaned forward to rest his head against Viktor’s collarbone, jutting out prominently under the thin black undersuit. Jayce closes his eyes and sighs contentedly, nuzzling closer. “Fuck, I wish I had a camera right now,” Vi says, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. “Thanks, doc. I’ll get out of your hair before Jayce says or does something even more embarrassing. Stop him if he tries to bleach his hair, yeah? He was really fixated on that earlier.” “Thank you, Vi,” Viktor replies in a strangled tone.

all that pretty love | 11,070 | BeesKnees / @kneesofthebee

Summary: “Hello! I’m Jayce,” the man says. He offers his hand across the table. “I am not interested,” Viktor says, and he looks back down at his book.

With you, without you | 12,894 | Rekki

Summary: "I’m a doctor.” Viktor says, frowning as one of the latches on Jayce's brace doesn’t close. “I help people with their backs.” “Doctor…?” “Dr. Talis.” Viktor says softly. The answer is like a punch to the gut. Jayce has forgotten who he’s talking to. A spouse, in a different life. The notion alone is enough to almost bring those pesky tears back. That insane vulnerability in his brain, the tender and abused place of him that doesn’t know how to quantify such an idea. Jayce would give anything to Viktor, be anything for Viktor. And in this universe, he’d been his husband. Had given him his name. A gift that has lasted beyond even death.

Santa Baby | 15,911 | blossombubble

Summary: For the first time in his life, Christmas sceptic Viktor finds himself wanting to sit on Santa’s lap. OR Viktor never thought he’d meet his future husband cosplaying as Santa for charity.

Seeing Stars or Something | 16,612 | Rekki

Summary: Professor Jayce Talis is really interested in the new Ravenclaw professor Viktor. Like, really interested. “Oh, please. You don’t know if Viktor is interested or not, you hardly know him.” Jayce rubbed a hand over his face, the image of Viktor on his knees with a mouthful of cock flashing powerfully through him in protest. But- Mel was right, though. Jayce had no idea if Viktor was interested or not. Afterwards, Viktor wasn’t even half-mast. Maybe he just has erectile dysfunction?

knottin’, baby | 36,393 | frankie_31 / @were-weenkie

Summary: Viktor gets hit with an early heat, and Jayce—being the good, well-meaning (and a bit too helpful) alpha that he is—steps in to help. They strike a very professional deal to tackle their heat and rut. They’re partners, it’s just another facet of how well they work together! And it’s just a nice bonus that Viktor starts to discover how fulfilling a heat can be with an alpha he actually trusts. It’s a totally platonic, super friendly arrangement. No, seriously, it’s just friendly. They’re partners, not mates.

lovers and invention by perfidiousalbion / @perfidiousalbion

2 Part Series | Rated M & E | Total Words: 7,244

Part 1 Summary: Jayce just smiles again. Viktor knows he’ll never earn that expression. No matter what he does, he’ll never, ever earn it. Every time he sees it it’ll be another penny in the bank of Viktor Having Things He Doesn’t Deserve.

jayvik blood kink by InAllPossibilities

2 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 13,010

Part 1 Summary: He stands and walks slowly to the kitchen sink and stands there, still staring wide eyed at his hands. His stomach turns. But the nausea doesn’t hit, instead a warmth spreads from his gut and sends a shiver down his spine. Jayce raises his hands closer to his face to look at where the edges are drying a deep ruddy brown. Then the smell hits him: metallic and sharp, unmistakable. He swears he salivates. And he doesn’t know why, but without thinking, he lifts his right hand to his nose to inhale.

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[writingdevil]

I'd be Home with You (PT.1) (STP Human AU)

Warning- Violence, drugging!

Hunted- Hudson (Sonny)

Shéamus chuckled as Oscar went off on another one of his ridiculous stories, of schemes or tricks that hadn't gone to plan, the bar bustling and lively around them.

They hadn't planned to get a drink, but they had been out all day, and although Oscar wouldn't admit it- the way he was hugging Shéamus' arm and leaning into his side told him that they needed a break, so the bar they went.

Oscar paused in the middle of his story to take a sip of his drink, giving Shéamus the perfect chance to just admire his beautiful partner.

Romance hadn't been something that Shéamus was initially interested in- that had always been Sebastian's field of expertise- but the minute Shéamus laid eyes on Oscar on the first day of college, something in his mind just latched to the other.

Oscar was his academic equal in most classes, both of them being the top students, but Shéamus always felt like Oscar was so much more put together and cheerful than Shéamus could ever be. Oscar walked in and just brightened a room up, from his smile, to his voice, to the way he just held himself. Shéamus thought Oscar was better than him in every way.

But then he found out that that was what Oscar wanted him to see.

When they actually started to become friends, Shéamus slowly but surely earned his way into Oscar's true self, and all the dark messiness within.

Oscar's mind and soul was made up of masks hiding tricks and sweetness and fear, and Shéamus couldn't help but fall in love with him, allowing Oscar to peer into his own head full of puzzles and confusion and grit- and now here they were.

Oscar caught his gaze and gave him a flirtatious smile, making Shéamus' cheeks light up and a fluttering to be felt in his chest.

He loved Oscar so much.

"So," Oscar said, once he put his drink down, "did you use to go to a lot of bars as a single stud?"

Shéamus chuckled, but shook his head. "Not really. Stay too long and I wouldn't be able to hear the thoughts in my head."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Oscar teased, running a hand through his long hair, and Shéamus fought the urge to twist a curl through his fingers. "Give everyone else a chance to catch up to that brilliant mind of yours."

Shéamus smiled, and it may have come off as a bit more dopey and lovesick than he would've liked, but he just blamed the drinks. "I dunno, you never had any trouble catching up to me."

"Are you kidding me?" Oscar suddenly scowled while straightening up, but it was a lighthearted one. "Love, half the time I still don't know how deep of a rabbit hole your mind goes down." Shéamus burst out laughing, and Oscar lightly kicked him from under the table. "I'm serious! I can hardly keep up with your mental gymnastics."

"You're no better!" Shéamus argued with a smile, taking a sip of his drink, tasting the burning alcohol on his tongue as he said, "It took me three weeks to learn what your favourite food was."

Oscar waved him away. "Well, that's different. I tell you everything because I know you're smart enough to connect the dots. Now there's no need for secrets when- Hudson?"

Shéamus paused in puzzlement, and when he looked up from his drink, he saw that Oscar had gone deathly pale, all amusement and playfulness wiped off his face to make way for raw terror. He wasn't even looking at Shéamus, but at something behind Shéamus, and the fingers around his glass started to shake.

Shéamus has never seen his partner look so afraid.

"Hudson? Who's Hudson?" Shéamus calmly asked, trying to not frightening Oscar further, even if a knot of anxiety and fear was being tangled up in his own chest right now.

But it was like Oscar couldn't hear him, and all he did was blink rapidly- and it was to get rid of tears, Shéamus realised. He didn't want to risk following Oscar's gaze and scaring off whoever he was looking at, so he just kept looking at Oscar, who looked downright sick at this point.

Then something passed over Oscar's face, snapping him out of his stupor, and he was suddenly shakily scrambling out of his chair, his eyes never leaving his target as he stammered out, "T-That's Hudson- they have Hudson."

Shéamus finally looked over his shoulder as he stood up as well, and he followed Oscar's line of sight to see two tall and muscular men getting up to leave the bar from the back entrance. They had arrogant looks in their eyes and sneers on their faces, dragging out someone who was barely half their height.

The person couldn't stand up right, even with one of the men clutching an arm, and their feet dragged across the wooden floor as the men led them out. Their head was hung low so Shéamus couldn't see their face, but they did have light orange hair like Oscar's, although theirs was straight, and their ponytail fell over their shoulder, brushing their face.

Judging from the way the person tried and failed to stand up, and the way the two men grinned sadistically down at them, Shéamus could assume that this person wasn't simply drunk.

Oscar quickly was at Shéamus' side, now looking more panicked than ever. He barely glanced at Shéamus, all his attention was on that person being dragged away- this Hudson person.

"No no no," Oscar quietly muttered, "they're taking him away, where are they taking him?" When he started to stumble forward, not because of the alcohol but because of fear, Shéamus knew what was about to happen.

So he grabbed Oscar's hand, and that immediately gave Oscar the strength he needed, and there was suddenly a fury in his hazel eyes that Shéamus had never seen before.

Oscar marched after the two men, clutching Shéamus' hand tight, and they followed them out the back entrance of the bar, which led out into a quiet, starlit street.

The two men were chuckling to themselves as this person- Hudson- moaned and weakly struggled against them.

One of the men pulled Hudson close by his hoodie, holding up a fist, and said to his friend, "How many hits do you think his tiny body can take?"

That was when Shéamus felt Oscar's hand slip from his, and he didn't even manage to yell anything out, before Oscar was running up and ripping Hudson from the man's grasp and shouting, "Get your hands off him!"

Oscar glared at the two men, with all the disgust and rage in the world, cradling Hudson's head to his chest, who's face was pinched in confusion and fear.

He pressed Hudson so tightly and protectively to his body that it stunned even Shéamus, who has never seen this side of Oscar. Oscar was known for lying and scheming his way out of messes, not directly confronting the problem head on.

But then he heard Oscar scream at the two men, "Don't you fucking dare touch my baby brother!"

That definitely opened up some questions for Shéamus, but one thing was evidently clear- let nobody touch Hudson.

One of the men took a step towards Oscar, petty anger in his eyes, like a child denied their toys. "Who the hell do you think-"

Shéamus refused let the man another inch towards his lover, so he said nothing as he ran up, grabbed a fistful of the guy's jacket, and slammed his fist into his nose, hearing a crack and feeling blood.

He didn't give the man time to recover, launching into a frenzy as he landed punch after punch to the asshole's face, who apparently thought drugging people wasn't an abhorrent thing to do.

The guy managed to scrape together some sense of control and awareness to send his own fist flying, and Shéamus quickly ducked and backed away from the swing.

He panted as he looked over at Oscar, who was hurling insults at the other man, backing away and dodging blows while dragging a fully unconscious Hudson with him.

The man suddenly rushed forward, obviously in an attempt to catch Oscar off guard, and tried to grab his wrist, which had Shéamus seeing fucking red because nobody touches Oscar.

As Shéamus bared his teeth and genuinely thought about strangling the idiot, Oscar ended up surprising him again.

The man reached forward, and then Oscar's face blanked, before his hand snapped forward, as if the movements were familiar to him, and he swiftly grabbed the guy by the wrist.

Both the guy and Shéamus froze at the speed at which Oscar retaliated, and Shéamus felt a heat for his lover that had him breathless, as Oscar looked the man in the eye, gave him a smile that promised death, and then broke the man's wrist.

The snap echoed around the street, and then it was promptly replaced with the sound of the guy's pained screaming.

Oscar had nothing but malicious fury in his eyes, as the man doubled over in pain, clutching his hand to his chest. Oscar shifted his stance slightly while still holding up Hudson, just enough so that he could slam his boot against the guy's temple, sending him crashing and smacking his head against the stone wall, knocking him unconscious.

Their eyes met, and Shéamus doesn't think that Oscar's ever looked more beautiful than in that moment.

Oscar smirked at him as if he was aware of that fact as well, before subtly motioning to behind him.

Shéamus chuckled as he turned around, watching in glee as the other guy flinched at the sight of him. "Sorry, mate," Shéamus casually said, before sending a final blow to his face, "but we've got places to be."

The man fell to the ground, knocked out just like his scummy friend, and Oscar and Shéamus took a few moments to catch their breaths and let their nerves come down from their high.

Shéamus rubbed his wrist with a wince. How does Saber endure all that punching all day? He glanced back up at Oscar, about to ask him if he was alright- but then he froze.

Oscar was standing there, with an unconscious man next to him, but all his focus was on Hudson, this stranger who was apparently Oscar's brother, and who he would willingly enter a fight for, and he was giving Hudson such a soft, forlorn look, eyes heavy with memories and unspoken words.

Shéamus sighed, and then he said, "Let's take him home, love."

-

Shéamus didn't mean to stare, but he couldn't help it. Sebastian used to gently tell him that sometimes his search for answers would scare people away, but Shéamus believed that the only true scary thing, was ignorance.

Every few seconds that they walked, Shéamus would be sneaking peeks at Hudson, who Oscar was carrying on his back with Shéamus' coat draped over him.

The only thing stopping Shéamus from bombarding Oscar with questions, was the look in his eyes. It was a look full of guilt and longing, and Shéamus wanted nothing more than to rid that look off his lover's face, so he kept quiet.

"Ask it." But then Oscar surprised him. "I know you want to."

"I didn't know you had a brother," was the first thing that tumbled out of Shéamus' mouth, and he glanced up as Oscar smiled weakly, keeping his gaze on the ground.

"Yeah," Oscar said, "I don't really talk about him much."

"Why? I've known you for over three years, and you have never mentioned a brother to me."

Oscar's throat bobbed. "I know," he said, but his voice came out all strained and rough, like he was on the verge of tears, and Shéamus absolutely hated it when Oscar cried.

Shéamus inched closer to Oscar in silent support, and Oscar sent him a grateful smile.

Oscar's smile then dropped as he revealed, "We haven't exactly- talked much in the last three years."

"Did you just lose touch?" Oscar shook his head, pausing to adjust his grip on Hudson.

"No, we actually used to be really close," Oscar explained. "I would always insist on going everywhere with him, and he would only ever listen to me for a time." A ghost of a fond smile graced Oscar's face, before it fell again.

"Hudson and I used to do everything together," Oscar said, leaning his head against his brother's. "We used to be as thick as thieves. Our parents were too busy to care about us, so they just bought us toys so that we didn't bother them, so Hudson was the only true family I ever had."

Shéamus could understand that, to an extent. Sebastian was his twin brother, and although they had completely different ways of thinking, Shéamus knew that he would do anything for him. Even if it felt like he wasn't hearing from Sebastian as much lately, Shéamus knew that if his twin asked, he would drop everything to come help him, because that was his brother, after all.

Oscar went on, "We used to play out the back garden for hours, chasing and playing games. Sonny's a real outdoorsy kind of person, so if I took my eyes off him for even a second, he'd be halfway up a tree."

"Sonny?" Shéamus said, amusement in his voice, and he chuckled at the way Oscar froze and a deep blush blossomed across his cheeks. He sent Shéamus a sheepish smile, before ducking his head. "Yeah, Sonny. I-uh- that used to be my nickname for him growing up. He was my little sun."

Shéamus cooed at how cute his boyfriend was, making Oscar glare at him and try to stick his leg out to trip him up. Shéamus laughed and easily dodged, his body immediately gravitating back to Oscar's side.

They fell into silence, and Shéamus took that moment to actually study Hudson. Now that he could see him up close, it was impossible to miss the freckles that covered the other's face and arms. Oscar only had freckles on his face, and were more visible in the sun. Oscar would always be complaining about how weird they made him look, but Shéamus would shut him up by peppering his face in kisses.

"I can see the resemblance," Shéamus softly said, and Oscar grinned in confidence and said, "Of course you can. We're both stunning, for starters."

Shéamus wasn't arguing there- Oscar was beautiful, after all, and that wasn't even Shéamus' feelings talking. Objectively, Oscar was an insanely good looking person- it was one of his weapons to use to get what he wanted.

"Yeah, but there are other things," Shéamus said, and Oscar quirked a brow. "Like what?"

Shéamus tapped Oscar's chin with a finger. "Same chin, same jawline, but Hudson's face looks rounder than yours."

Oscar blinked at him, impressed, but Shéamus had more to say.

"The noses are different, though," he commented, eyes switching between the two brothers every two or three seconds. "Yours is smaller, but Hudson's looks a little longer and sharper. The cheeks are the same, both big and adorable looking, and I'd imagine you both have hazel eyes-"

Shéamus stopped himself, once he realised that Oscar was staring at him. His gaze held so much love, and he was smiling at him so fondly, that it made Shéamus' brain stop working in that moment.

Oscar didn't take his eyes off him, as he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Shéamus' lips, pulling away after a few seconds to whisper, "You're wrong." All Shéamus could do was raise a brow, and Oscar added, "Hudson's eyes are blue."

Oscar leaned back with a giggle, relishing in the flustered mess that Sheamus was certain his face had become.

They walked for another ten minutes while Sheamus slowly collected himself, the night air cooling his skin- and he found that there was still one question nagging at him.

"But what happened?"

He looked over at Oscar, who had instantly lost all humour and warmth on his face, and he aggressively kicked a rock across the street in that moment.

Oscar didn't reply right away, and Shéamus was beginning to think that he had dug too deep again, before Oscar quietly said, "We got into a huge fight, right before I left for college. We had never fought before, so we just exploded at each other. Then we stopped talking, and tonight was the first time in three years that I've seen Hudson."

Oscar sighed, and then held Hudson tighter, and it broke Shéamus' heart to see how much Oscar still cared about Hudson, despite then drifting apart. The horror in Oscar's eyes when he saw Hudson being taken away, the rage in which he fought the men with, and the utter adoration in his voice when he spoke about Hudson.

Oscar missed Hudson so terribly much.

Shéamus leaned over and pressed a kiss to Oscar's cheek, murmuring to him, "Let's hope that changes tonight."

The small spark of hope in Oscar's eyes was all the proof Shéamus needed to know that he felt the same.

[hwangchii]

hai :3

okay so thought .

ticci toby is your bf and yall are playing around with drugs , specifically like ... "tame" stuff , yk weed and shrooms and all that . anyway . he pulls out .... dont judge me

aphrodisiacs .

so he wants you to try them , and you do !!! and they work .

too well

he's been fucking you for hours but you still want more , so he calls eyeless jack bc youve talked about threesomes w him before , and toby's all like

"i dont think i have any more cum bru"

so threesome with ej and toby while youre high off your ass from aphrodisiacs :3

thoughts ?

E. JACK X T. TOBY X FEM!READER

Genre: Smut

Writer's note: i hope that this is what you meant! Please let me know if you liked it or if it wasn't what you expected!

WARNINGS: NSFW, drug use, dubious consent, threesome, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex, (slight) degradation, tiny bit voyeurism if you squint, cursing, stuttering(Toby tics)

You and Toby were messing around with drugs, when he shows you something you've got to try

Toby and you were messing around inside the mansion with drugs—the tame ones. You were both giggly and blushy, and so was Toby.

"I-i got s-something that m-might be more f-fun than these sh-shrooms and w-weed," he said, making you look at him with a raised eyebrow, showing some distrust.

"What is it?" you asked.

He then pulled out a small bag of pink pills.

"What are those?" you asked again, now curious.

"Aph-aphrodisiacs. G-got them fr-from some-somewhere. Thought i-it would b-be cool t-to try," Toby said.

You had never tried aphrodisiacs before, so you were a little excited to try a new drug.

"What do they do?" you asked him.

He looked at you and said, "They-they heighten y-your sense of p-pleasure. T-try them!"

You hesitated. "How strong are they?" you asked.

He shrugged and just kept pestering you to try them, so you eventually caved in and took three of the pills.

"D-do they w-work?" he asked.

"I don't feel any--Oh!" you gasped in surprise when you looked at him and immediately felt heat pool between your legs. Somehow, everything about him now seemed to arouse you, and you instinctively rubbed your legs together.

Toby took notice and raised an eyebrow. "I-it's working?"

You nodded. His voice alone sent a shockwave through you, and your cheeks flushed even more.

The stutter was so cute, you thought, it turned you on suddenly.

"H-How do we get rid of this!? I don't like the feeling anymore! It's too overwhelming!" you stammered in desperation, your body trembling.

Toby smiled and gave a cocky chuckle. "I know a way to help," he said.

────୨ৎ────

A few hours later, here he was, between your legs, fucking you like two rabbits in heat.

"F-Fuck! You-you're so t-tight!" he moaned as he thrusted into you quick and hard. You were moaning loudly, though your hand was clamped over your mouth since you both unfortunately weren’t the only ones in the mansion.

He came inside you again, for the tenth time in those few hours.

"Again, please, Toby!" you whined desperately.

Toby sighed. He was exhausted, but you still wanted more and who was he to deny his girl? Still, he felt like you’d literally drained him dry.

Then he remembered a conversation you two once had. You’d told him you wanted to try a threesome sometime.

He thought this was the perfect opportunity.

"H-hold on, b-baby. I'll be r-right b-back," he told you, pulling his pants up and stepping out of the room, leaving you confused.

When he came back, he returned with Eyeless Jack.

You looked at Toby, confused. "What is he doing here?"

Toby just grinned. "R-remember w-what we ta-talked about a f-few w-weeks ago?"

You thought for a moment before blushing and nodding.

"I’ve g-got trouble kee-keeping up, so I-I got s-some help," he said with a shit-eating grin.

You blushed harder at his words and yelped when Eyeless Jack suddenly manhandled you onto all fours.

Jack looked at her for a moment before chuckling. He pulled his pants down and aligned himself with your entrance. Toby positioned himself in front of you and gently pushed your mouth onto his cock while sitting back against the bed’s headboard. Jack pushed his length inside you--he wasn’t thick, but he was long, very long.

You moaned around Toby’s cock as Jack started thrusting from behind. Jack was groaning and breathing heavily, while Toby was also moaning, his head tilting back in pleasure.

"F-Fuck~! So good! Y-You g-get off on b-being used b-by two g-guys like a s-slut?" Toby laughed breathlessly.

"I-if I’d kn-known you’d a-act like t-this while h-high and ho-horny, I w-would’ve fed you aphrodisiacs a long t-time ago."

You clenched tightly around Jack at those words. Jack felt it and slapped your ass, making you squeal.

"F-Fuck~! I’m c-cumming!" Toby moaned as he finished in your mouth. He pulled you off his cock by your hair and sat back beside you two.

Jack was going hard and fast, his thrusts now wild and sloppy as he neared his own climax. You moaned loudly, not holding back anymore.

Jack groaned, low and rough, and finally came deep inside you, giving a few more hard thrusts before stopping.

Your eyes rolled back as you panted, shivering from the overstimulation.

Jack slowly pulled out, making you wince at the sensitivity. Toby gently patted your head as you fell asleep, utterly spent. The two boys exchanged a satisfied high-five.

Seemed like this wouldn’t be the last time...

[ghostwaffleheimer]

It's a really weird feeling watching the DMC anime (I had to sit through it twice btw) and being disappointed by it because all I can notice are things it got *wrong*, meanwhile most of the people around me like it and have no problem handwaving the issues with "well it's a reimagining/it's not canon". Yet the more I think about it, the more I find myself being annoyed by even small things that weren't handled well or barely made sense, and the more I find myself disliking it.

...Especially the last episode and that fucking green day 'murica montage. Like what the actual fuck was that?

[x-ac1d-tr1p-x]

"The tales from the pizzaplex books are canon in the ga-"

My live reaction:

[cynningly]

i have figured out the pattern in my ideal character dynamic and it’s just asshole purple bunny men

[idl3dr3ams]

all those f/o positivity posts make me laugh

"your f/o loves you" "you f/o is so sweet to you" "your f/o is [insert some variation of nice/soft/kind/ect]"

my f/os are terrible people and that's the appeal

I like half of them becasue they kill people

I don't want to [insert wholesome activity] with them, I'm helping them hide bodies and lie to their followers/employees

I don't even want some of them to be in love with me. in canon it would be unrequited one-sided pining from me and I like it that way

especially the couple of them that would take advantage of my willingness to do whatever they asked

[caterpillarinacave]

I'm going to DIE if we don't get any canon Fairchild twins content, so rn I'm purely relying on your hcs. Will you ever write a fic about the *potential* triplets? Their birth perhaps?

I actually do have a fic about their birth (though it's focused more broadly on TLH characters as a whole) which I really need to update: To Love, to Long, and to Fear

That being said, I love the triplets so much. Like, so much. I could write a full trilogy about them.

I actually do have several pieces of writing about them + their family! I've just never posted any of it because I didn't think anybody would care to read them.

However, I am more than happy to write/post/talk about them

[light-wrath-paradise]

You know what at this point I feel like maybe I just need to either get institutionalised again or start an internship again because I feel like I am getting nothing.

[iron-niffler]

just one more chapter then ill go to bed :)

*one 70k word fanfic later*

many, many mistakes were made

[fatherbrat]

incubus!sukuna, part two. part one here

you wake up sweaty, the sheets clinging to your skin. there’s an unfamiliar pressure on your hips, and you almost feel stuck. when you open your eyes, there are four staring back at you in the dark.

instinctively, you open your mouth to scream, but sukuna is faster than you. one of his large hands is covering your face before you can even blink, muffling your scream completely.

he leans into you, close enough that you can smell faint wisps of smoke coming from him.

“you remember me.” it’s a statement, not a question. “let me have you like this.” outside of your head, he thinks.

he watches as you glance at the clock across the room. 3:56. you close your hand into a fist, pressing your nails into your palm before raising it to your face and counting all five fingers. you look back at the clock. still 3:56.

you’re awake.

the pressure on your hips—his hands holding you down—goes away as he shifts positions, lifting you into his lap. suddenly, you feel overly exposed in the tank top and underwear you wore to bed. his double erection presses into your side, twin promises of what’s to come.

just like in your dreams, he makes the first move with little hesitation, pulling your underwear off you in one swift movement. you follow his lead, tugging your tank over your head and tossing it to the floor.

you’re already wet enough for him to slip three of his thick fingers inside you without prepping you first. he chuckles to himself as he watches the way your pussy greedily sucks his fingers in. you squirm a bit, trying to subtly push yourself down on his hand, hoping for more.

he pauses. “what? this not enough for you?”

the stern tone of his voice makes your legs tense, bringing them together. sukuna tuts, “don’t run away now, you just said you wanted more.” he pushes your legs back open, wider than they were before.

you purse your lips. “technically, i didn’t say that.”

he stares down at you, unfamiliar with this kind of back-talk from a human. he expects attitude from succubi, always too impish and bratty, but human women? they’ve always been willing and pliant.

you tuck your lips between your teeth and stare back, eyes twinkling.

you aren’t expecting the large smile that breaks across his face, making you feel like a rabbit staring into the maw of a lion.

you’re suddenly on your back, head resting against your pillow. sukuna hovers over you and pulls his fingers out of your cunt, and he looks you in the eyes as he licks them clean. you don’t break eye contact, which only seems to rile him up further.

“you’re a bold one,” he mumbles, pushing your legs up until your knees are nearly to your ears.

you groan at the position, momentarily wishing you’d been stretching more regularly. but you don’t have any time to dwell on it before sukuna presses the fat tip of one of his dicks against your slit.

your breath hitches as he sinks himself all the way in, pushing your legs further back to get deeper.

“oh my god.”

somehow, he feels bigger in real life. your jaw drops at the rude entry, and you watch sukuna’s lips stretch into a sly smile.

he pulls out completely, only to thrust back into you, his tip kissing your cervix. he continues at a steady speed, driving you closer and closer to an orgasm with every movement.

when you come, you swear you see stars. your toes and fingers and ears are tingling, skin prickling all over. your cunt spasms around sukuna’s monstrous cock, clenching and releasing like she’s trying to milk him. you’re so focused on trying to ride it out that you hardly register when sukuna lines up his second dick with your entrance.

you scream when you feel it—sukuna’s twin cocks stretching you open more than you even knew was possible.

he gives you a moment to take it in, whispering for you to breathe as he waits for you to relax around him. one of his hands envelops yours, pinning it to the bedsheets.

the moment you adjust, he goes back to his previous pace, only marginally slower.

the feeling is overwhelming, being so totally stuffed. it only gets worse when he starts thumbing your clit. immediately, your mind goes blank, short-circuiting in response to the devastating amount of pleasure.

you're subjected to more orgasms in quick succession, each one sending shockwaves throughout your body. sukuna keeps going, looking increasingly satisfied every time you come.

the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes start to fall down your temples. a string of “please, please, please, please” spills from your lips, but you’re not quite sure what you’re asking for, too fucked out to be coherent.

you’re vaguely aware of the praises he starts showering you with. something about how you’re his favorite, and how your pussy sucks him in the best, how he’ll never fuck another, blah blah blah. his hips buck at a sloppier pace than before.

you feel his cocks pulse inside you, and for the first time since he’s started visiting you, he comes.

you’re not expecting to feel so empty when he finally pulls out of you. he uses his fingers to stuff his cum as far up as it’ll go, but it leaks out anyways, trickling towards your ass. he lets go of you, letting you lay down your legs and stretch them out on the bed.

in your cum-drunk haze, you latch onto sukuna's hand, tucking it beneath your head and mumbling thank you’s into his skin as you curl up under the sheets. as you begin to drift into unconsciousness, you feel him wrapping you up in his arms, cradling you. a single thought cuts through the fog in your brain: this is new.

you think you hear him tell you you’re welcome just before falling asleep.

reblog for a kiss ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

[fushitoru]

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! a nanami kento fic / drabble

cw: nanami kento x reader, a little suggestive maybe, established relationship, fluff, nanami is a green flag but he's just a man, light jealousy / posessiveness, crack, based off this (instagram link). gojo ver here

general masterlist

"Ranking types of hugs I'd be comfortable with another guy giving my girlfriend." 

Kento’s not the type to aimlessly scroll on his phone --- he prefers to be in the present, not deplete “his reserves of dopamine” too quickly, but right now he’s bored. You’ve yet to come from work---you’d texted him you were running late, buying some groceries---so Kento’s laid on the couch looking at his phone. Even though he hates using social media and the rabbit holes that result from said use, he answers your reels and TikToks religiously. After all, he values everything you have to say, even though they are a bit silly.

But just before he could respond to the baby fever videos you sent him----he does have to admit, it’s a bit cute---his screen auto scrolls onto the next piece of 30-second content, and with that, he’s hooked, observing the slots of rankings the filter auto generates for the guy on his screen.

For a bit, he multitasks on looking at the video and reading the comments, then frowns at how possessive they seem. 

catcher hug is 1000 bodies 😭😭

No one is hugging my girl

PUT EVERYTHING AT 11 CUH

a/n lmaoo these are real comments on the link above honestly i love when men are pathetic

Surely, it can’t be that bad … right?

Kento prides himself on being an emotionally mature and secure man. It’s not to say he doesn’t have his own flaws, but while it seems the rest of his gender has fallen to the gym bro gurus and alpha male podcast bros, he’s involved himself in constant communication with you and makes sure to educate himself. 

And yet. He doesn’t know he’s going to almost be on the brink of tears as he opens the filter to try it out by himself.

The filter shuffles, presenting the first option: A back hug.

Kento exhales sharply through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly. He doesn’t immediately react, but there’s a flicker of something in his gaze. He ranks it a nine.

Then, the next: A slow dance hug.

His jaw tightens. The thought of you in someone else’s arms, swaying under dim lights, your cheek resting against another man’s chest—it’s enough to make something unpleasant curl in his stomach. Ten.

The filter shuffles again. One-armed hug. He sighs through his nose, rubbing his temple. Three. Acceptable. Barely.

e waits, trying to keep his thoughts level, but when the next option rolls in, his grip on his phone tightens. A slow catcher hug.

His face is blank. He blinks once. Twice.

Then, a deep, audible sigh fills the room as he drags a hand down his face, thumb and forefinger pressing against the bridge of his nose.

The image is unwelcome, vivid—someone else catching you, your legs wrapping around their waist, the ease, the familiarity.

His phone clatters onto his chest, and he stares at the ceiling. The muscles in his jaw are taut, his lips pressed in a firm line. A moment passes. Then another.

And that’s how you find him—lying on the couch, stiff as a board, staring blankly upwards like he’s contemplating the meaning of life itself.

“Sweetheart?” you call, stepping closer. You set down your groceries, taking in his unusually tense form. He doesn’t immediately acknowledge you, just continues his thousand-yard stare.

“What’s wrong?” you press, now more concerned. “Are you feeling sick?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, still staring at the ceiling. Then, in a voice that’s a little too measured, he finally speaks.

“If another man so much as thinks about catching you in his arms, I’ll break both of them.”

You freeze. Blink.

“… What?”

Finally, he turns his head to look at you, eyes dark and serious, but there’s something almost resigned in his expression—like he knows he’s being ridiculous but can’t bring himself to care. You’re surprised at the turn of events to---it’s unlike him to be so…possessive and droopy. It’s actually really cute---he reminds you uncharacteristically of a wet, droopy dog.

“I don’t like that filter.” His voice is calm, but his fingers twitch slightly where they rest on his stomach. “I don’t like thinking about other men touching you.”

It’s so unlike him—so openly possessive—that you’re momentarily stunned into silence. Then, amusement bubbles up in your chest.

“Did you just get jealous over a TikTok filter?” you tease, stepping closer.

He exhales, slow and long, closing his eyes briefly before muttering, “I was curious. I regret it.”

You bite back a smile, reaching down to brush your fingers against his jaw. He leans into the touch, almost instinctively, before sighing again.

“You’re the only one I want to touch me, Kento.” you reassure, and his lips finally quirk at the edges—barely, but it’s there.

“I know,” he says, voice softer now. “But if I ever see a man standing with his arms open around you…” He exhales one final time, shaking his head before murmuring, “… I can fight.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before moving to put away the groceries, leaving him lying there, still brooding.

As you walk away, you hear him mutter under his breath, just loud enough to catch:

“Slow catcher hug… ridiculous.”

general masterlist

a/n first time writing for nanami kinda nervous :') i have def areas to improve upon but for the meantime pls accept this <3 thank you for the req cutie !! @girlyuuta choso ver is going to come too :3

[arolesbianism]

Management games my beloved I <3 tormenting lil guys for my benefit

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNDONE I.

A/N: i've started like 3 wips these past weeks but finally finished one! so here is some boss!harry for you, let me know if you want more of it, bc i feel like i could def add to this story!

WORD COUNT: 8.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry is obsessed with Y/N. The only problem is that he is her boss, so he keeps this obsession to himself. But everything changes after one drunken night.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry has a love-hate relationship with the glass-walled meeting rooms in the office. Aesthetically they are bringing that well-known, usual vibe of every corporate office, nothing new, nothing unusual. Often, he is irritated that people tend to peek inside as they walk past towards the coffee machine or the restroom. He knows it’s second nature, they don’t necessarily try to intrude, but it tends to frustrate him when he is in the middle of a meeting and a random guy is just staring him down from outside. He tried to get the glass covered, but HR declined, they said something about transparency that just pissed Harry off even more, then he just gave up.

But lately, there’s been an advantage of those see-through dividers, because if people from outside can see in, that means Harry can see everything and everyone outside.

Like right now, as he is sitting by the oval table, laptop in front of him while the lawyers are talking about all the legal documents that are needed for their next deal, it’s an important step and Harry is usually great at focusing on what matters, but today his attention is somewhere else.

Outside of the meeting room, right by Y/N’s desk. 

She is the latest addition in the department, a talented analyst who joined a little over three months ago. Harry knows she is great, because he was there at her interview. He is usually not one to attend interviews, but the hiring manager got sick and they needed someone from management to be there as well and Harry had a spare hour he wanted to use to get a little ahead on that tender he’d been working on, but that got thrown right out the window. 

It was the last thing he wanted to do, listen to some random analyst who probably never even saw a DWH system, they always think they are qualified to deal with anything, but then they see just how much data they need to work with and then freak out. Harry was convinced it would happen that time too, but he was wrong.

Y/N walked in there, seemingly nervous, fidgeting with the hem of her cardigan, looking like a frightened little rabbit, so innocent, so sweet, something surprising happened. 

Harry was in awe. 

He found himself being drawn towards her, interested in how she’d perform at the interview. He kept a straight face as the recruiter beside him asked her some basic questions and then he took over for the professional part. 

He gave her his hardest questions, things even seniors might not know, he quizzed her about topics that are way too specific to work around and… she excelled. She couldn’t answer every question, but she worked up a logic she would use to at least try to tackle the matter and Harry knew she would succeed if she had the right materials. 

She blew his mind away. Once she left, he turned to the recruiter and said:

“I want her. Get her to start next week.”

And she did. Next monday, she was holding her onboarding package, eyes bright as she got seated at her desk, ready to start working. 

Now she is sitting at the same spot, wearing her blue light glasses, her eyebrows slightly furrowed behind them as she is working on something on her computer. She is wearing a long sundress today with a yellow cardigan to cover her shoulders. Harry has noted her colorful outfits every morning when she strolled into the office, brightening the otherwise dull atmosphere. It’s a whole floor full of developers, analysts and other IT professionals, they are not known for their exquisite fashion taste, but Y/N is different. Her wardrobe is full of colors and pieces others wouldn’t consider as business casual, but somehow she always makes it work. 

She is the kind of person that has a nice word for everyone, she often brings coffee to Linda, whose desk is across from hers and they usually have lunch together, Harry has noted. She is always happy to help others, she is great at seeing problems differently and quick to come up with solutions. She is definitely a favorite among her colleagues.

Unlike Harry.

Not that he wants to be liked, he is head of IT, he needs to lead, keep everything under control and make hard decisions. He is not stupid, Harry knows most people in the department fear him, he is not known for being friendly and chatty. He usually has so much work he doesn’t have time left to get a coffee with anyone, not that he would have anyone to invite. He is the gruff boss who is always busy and people try not to cross paths with. 

He doesn’t mind it. He likes to be focused on his work and most people don’t realize how hard it is to be the one to decide about budget cuts, downsizing and restructuring, because they don’t see what goes down behind these decisions, they just want to blame someone and that’s usually him. They don’t want to be friends with the big boss who fired their work bestie, even if it was a known fact they never did their job.

It was never an issue for him how his employees saw him. Until her. 

Someone stops by Y/N’s desk and he watches her face light up as she gives them her attention. He can’t hear what she is saying, but when she laughs, it rings in his ears. He loves hearing her laugh.

“So what do you think?” one of the lawyers asks him and he snaps back, realizing he has no idea what they were talking about in the last five minutes. He quickly looks down at his notes so far, but there’s no use. 

“Uh, I’ll leave it to you. I have to go now, do you think you can have everything set by the end of next week? We need it for the next sprint.”

“Sure,” the guy nods, his name is something with a J, but Harry can’t remember what it is. 

He is relieved that he could dodge admitting he has no idea what was talked about, shutting his laptop he murmurs a thank you for the group and he is the first one to walk out of the room, heading towards his office. 

Y/N is not at her desk when he walks past and he looks for her, hoping he is not too obvious, but he sees no trace of her. Is she having coffee with that guy who walked up to her desk? Are they planning something outside of work? Does he want to date her?

Harry’s thoughts are racing as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the general buzz of the open office outside. With a sigh, he sits down in his chair, places his laptop onto the desk, but leaves it unopened for a bit as he rubs his face with his hands. 

He always has control. He plans and keeps himself to his plan, he gathers data, analyses and then makes a new plan. Easy as it is. This is why he likes his job, IT is usually exact, the problem might be deeply hidden, but it’s always exact, he just needs to find the data.

But he’s been feeling chaotic lately. He is disoriented, can’t focus at meetings and finds himself thinking about her when he is supposed to be working. He just can’t help it. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, then rolls his head, his neck cracks and he lets out a groan before opening his laptop and trying his best to get back to working. The code opens in front of him and he focuses on the lines he’s been trying to rewrite, but right when he is about to start typing, there’s a knock on his door. For a second, he feels irritated that he was interrupted again, but then he looks past the screen and sees her.

Harry nods and Y/N walks through the glass door, holding her laptop to her chest, smiling shyly. Harry likes to think that this smile is for him only, that he is the reason to bring it to her lips, though he doubts he has such an effect on her. But still, it’s a nice thought. 

“Hey,” he greets her as she crosses the room and sits across from him. 

“Hi. Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“I finished those tables you asked for yesterday, but I wanted to run a few things with you.”

“You… finished?” he asks as Y/N unfolds her laptop, nodding. 

“Yeah.” She places the laptop onto his desk and he leans closer, focusing on the screen as Y/N explains what she found unclear, but Harry is still stunned when she is done talking.

“Is it… Is it bad? Not what you thought of?” she asks, seeing his face.

“No, it’s… Y/N, you did this all by yourself?”

“Yes?” Her answer sounds unsure and panic settles in her visibly. “I-I’m sorry if it’s–”

“Y/N, this is brilliant.”

She is taken aback by his compliment, it wasn’t the first time, but it feels like a gift every time for her. 

“It is?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t doubt you could do it, but I didn’t think it would turn out this great and you also finished so fast, I thought it would take you the entire week at least.”

“Well… I did stay in a little longer last night,” she admits with a soft chuckle and it tugs on his chest right away. He looks at her over the desk, their eyes meet and for a second, warmth spreads through his veins as he fights the urge to reach out and touch her. 

Clearing his throat he leans back in his chair.

“Send it over, I’ll leave comments on those sections and then you can start the migration.”

“Thank you,” she nods, taking her laptop and heading to the door.

“And well done, Y/N,” he calls after her. She just nods and smiles at him before walking out. 

Harry watches her return to her desk, takes some deep breaths and forces himself to return to the code on his own computer. 

***

Linda wiggles her eyebrows at Y/N once she is sat at her desk. 

“Did you two eye-fuck again?” she asks and Y/N gapes at her, quickly looking around to see if anyone heard her, but luckily, everyone is too busy.

“Linda! That’s–We don’t do that.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, twirling her pen around between her fingers. 

“We just went over the tables. He said I did a good job.” She shrugs, but Linda doesn’t miss how the corners of her mouth curl up, though she tries to hide it. 

“You do realize you’re the only one in this whole department he has ever complimented, right?”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Zach go the best reaction from him last spring, when he spent two weeks refactoring a fucked up code, Harry said it was acceptable. That’s all. The fact that he said you did a good job is just another proof that he is into you.”

“Would you stop talking about the head of IT being into me?” Y/N hisses. “Come on, let’s get a coffee before you start screaming it.”

They go down a floor where the coffee station has better options and once they both have a mug full of coffee, they settle by a high table in the common area. 

“I have a confession to make,” Y/N admits, but avoids looking her in the eyes. “Okay, go for it.”

“I’m meeting Archer today.”

“Y/N! Not your fucking ex! Why?!” Linda gasps. “Do you really hate yourself that much?”

“I don’t hate myself,” she gives her a look, before returning her gaze to her mug. “He texted me the other day.”

“And you texted him back?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Boo! You should have blocked his number a long time ago!”

Y/N has thought about that. A lot. Her asshole ex has come back a couple of times since they broke up about a year ago, they shared one or two nights, but it always ended with him disappearing and leaving her shattered. His comebacks slowed down the process of getting over him a lot and though she feels like she is finally okay, she couldn’t just ignore his text.

“That’s not like me,” she shrugs, ignoring the thought that she knows Linda is right. 

“Hun, what do you think will happen today that hasn’t happened before?”

The question stings, right in her chest, because she knows it’s true. Her logical side knows Archer won’t just magically apologize for the way he treated her, even though it’s the only thing she wants from him at this point. To admit that he was in the wrong. 

“We’ll talk. That’s it.”

“Please don’t sleep with him,” Linda sighs desperately. “He doesn’t deserve your time.”

“I won’t,” she says, though she is not entirely certain it’s the truth. 

“Uh-huh, okay.” Linda checks the time on her phone. “I gotta go, I have a meeting in ten.”

“I’m coming too, I have a lot to do.”

Grabbing their mugs they head out of the common area, back to the upper floor. 

***

Harry didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He is the last person to be interested in anyone’s private life in the office. 

But when he heard Y/N’s voice as he was about to walk into the room, he stopped and hid behind the wall, listening to a conversation that was truly not meant for his ears. 

Hearing the two women talk about Y/N’s ex has ignited something new in him, especially when it became clear that he has hurt her in the past. Harry is not one to become violent, he channels all his tendencies in the gym while boxing, but from what he heard of the guy, he would have gladly punched him in the face. A few times.

Maybe more than a few.

The short conversation tickled his curiosity about what happened, but when he heard that they were about to leave, he quickly walked away so they didn’t see him. 

Now as he is back by his desk he can’t focus on the code in front of him at all, his thoughts are only about this mysterious ex Y/N is apparently meeting today. At one point, he even considers giving her some extra work to keep her in late and preferably miss the meeting, but that would be too petty even for him. Instead, he spends the next hour pretending to work while he just keeps fantasizing about different scenarios of what happened between Y/N and the guy. 

Slowly, the office starts to empty out as the end of the day nears. Desks get abandoned, lights are turned off and Harry is still there, since he barely got anything done that day. 

He sees when Y/N packs up her stuff and leaves and his jaw almost breaks as he holds himself still and just watches her walk out. 

“I’m fucking insane,” he mumbles under his breath, willing himself to do some work now that he can’t get distracted by Y/N every time she leaves her desk. 

It’s all new to him. This obsession he’s been feeling since the moment he saw Y/N at the interview. An invisible string has been pulling him towards her and it’s unlike anything he has felt with his exes before. 

He wasn’t obsessed. He didn’t think of them all the time. He didn’t lose focus when he was seeing someone. But with Y/N, he is losing his precious control and it’s almost scary. 

He finally manages to lock in for some work and time flies by. Next time he looks up from his screen the whole office is empty, only his desk lamp giving light and the green haze of the exit signs. It’s past nine and he can hear the cleaner vacuuming somewhere on the floor, so with a tired smile he shuts his computer off, gathers his things and heads out. 

He moved less than a year ago and the place he bought is within walking distance of the office. He knows it might have been a stupid idea to get a place just because it’s close to his working place, he probably won’t work there his whole life, but he doesn’t see himself switching for a long time, so it’s convenient. 

With his backpack hanging off one shoulder he steps out into the warm evening, the afternoon rush is over, now the nearby bars and restaurants are full of workers desperately needing to let some steam off before heading home. 

There’s a small park he walks through before reaching his street and it has always been dear to him, a nice change in the scenery of concrete and glass in the middle of the city. There’s even a small pond along the path that takes him across the park with benches and a handful of ducks are usually circling in the water peacefully. 

Older people from around like to come here and sit or take a short walk and they are the only people Harry likes to watch. He admires their slow pace, no rush, just enjoying what they have, a state he dreams of reaching too. 

Tonight, as he passes by the pond his eyes spot a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches. He stops in his tracks, questioning if his sight is right, because the person sitting there with her head hanging low looks just like Y/N. As he slowly approaches he notices the soft shaking of her shoulders.

She’s crying. 

***

Y/N has been sitting on that bench for… God knows how long. Could have been minutes, could have been hours. She was planning to cry her eyes out at once, then move on by the time she gets home, but apparently, she needs more time to get herself over than she estimated. This spot seemed like a great one, it’s far enough from the lights so people don’t notice she is crying, but she definitely did not expect to be noticed by her boss.

“Y/N?”

Harry’s voice makes her jump and as her head snaps up, she finds herself staring up at the person she least expected to see. His eyebrows are furrowed, concern is written all over his face as he stands a few feet away from the bench, as if he can’t tell if it’s a good idea for him to get closer. 

“Oh, hi!” She quickly forces a smile on her face, but she knows she is fooling no one. She wipes her tear-soaked cheeks with the back of her hand and prays her mascara is not smudged all around her eyes in panda style. “What–What are you doing here?”

“I live nearby, I’m on my way home. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… I was just taking a walk and now I’m… not.”

Her brain does not function. She knows what she said didn’t make any sense, but she can’t think of something else to say. She is way too busy thinking about how Harry is standing right there just after her ex made her wait for him for an hour before texting her he is not coming and when she called him to confront, a woman answered his phone.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to draw the conclusions: Archer was only trying to hook up with her tonight, but apparently found someone else and ditched her. A classic move from an asshole like him, but that doesn’t make her feel less like shit. Mostly because she should have known better and not believe he would do anything other than hurting her. 

Harry just stands there for a few moments and Y/N is expecting him to walk away and pretend like he didn’t even see her, but he surprises her when he walks over to the bench and sits beside her. 

“Do you want to… talk about what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she answers right away, but when she looks at him, it’s obvious he doesn’t believe her. With a sigh, she turns her gaze back towards the pond. She is hesitating between keeping it all to herself or just dumping it on Harry and then deal with the consequences later, but right when she is about to make up her mind, he speaks up.

“Is this about… your ex-boyfriend?”

She turns to him with wide eyes. 

“How do you…”

A guilty look takes over his face before he shrugs.

“I heard you talking about him earlier. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“I shouldn’t talk so freely with Linda in the office,” she chuckles, shaking her head. They sit in silence, when Harry peeks at her she seems deep in her thoughts and he is desperate to get her to talk, but doesn’t want to push her too much. 

As a last resort, he says:

“Do you want to have a drink?”

***

The tequila is burning her throat, she can’t help the frown as she bites into the lemon. When she looks at Harry, she is not even surprised he has the same, unbothered look on his face he had after the previous two shots. 

“Uh, how are you taking it so well?” she coughs and then takes a sip from her beer. They were lucky enough to find a table at a bar nearby and she was quick to accept that maybe getting drunk is what she needs right now, even if the alarms are still going off somewhere in the back of her mind, because doing it with Harry might not be her brightest idea. 

“I guess I still have some left of my college years,” he shrugs and she starts laughing. 

“Don’t tell me you were a party animal in college,” she snorts. The three shots and half a beer has definitely set her tongue free and took away her sense of embarrassment after saying everything that’s on her mind. She will surely regret it in the morning, but right now she couldn’t care less.

Harry likes this version of her. She is always bubbly and talkative, but in his presence he often senses her nervousness. Now there’s no trace of that and he is sinking in every moment of it.

“What do you think I was like in college?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, the words slurring a bit on her tongue. “Like a… hot nerd?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her and she realizes only then that she just called him hot. 

“I-I mean… I don’t–What I meant is–”

“I was a nerd,” he says, saving her from her rambling. “I was in the robotics club, spent a lot of time in the library, trying to hack their system so I didn’t have to return some books I wanted to keep.”

She can’t help, but laugh as Harry is smiling at the memory as well.

“Did you succeed?”

“What do you think?”

“For sure.”

“Correct,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “But I went to parties. I had this friend group from highschool, some of them were friends with the popular kids so we were always invited.”

“I can’t picture you with a red solo cup, filled with cheap booze.”

“But it happened,” he chuckles. “Luckily, photos have been deleted from social media.”

“Did you wipe the internet?” she asks, leaning closer as if she was asking him about a secret.

“No, but I did message those who had the photos posted when I was getting higher in my career.”

“Clever,” she nods and grabbing her beer, she takes a few swigs. Then her smile fades. “Maybe I should tell you what happened, right?”

“Only if you want to.”

Sighing she leans back, pursing her lips as she squints her eyes, looking back at him. She can’t think straight. Her thoughts are jumping, one moment she is thinking about Archer, the next all her attention is on how plump his lips look when they are wet from the beer, or the way his top two buttons of his shirt have come undone and she is seeing fucking tattoos, along his collarbones. 

She wants to kiss them. 

“I was stupid enough to think that I matter to him and he wouldn’t… hurt me. But he did. That’s it, lesson learned.”

She would love to look unbothered, like it doesn’t affect her, but she can’t. Her throat is closing up and when Harry calls out her name softly, she looks up at him with tears in her eyes and wobbling lips. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying, I know. I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize,” Harry shakes his head, but it’s like she didn’t even hear him.

“I know it’s stupid, but I just thought it might be different this time, that he might apologize and I can finally… I don’t know.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s not. You’re allowed to hope, to want to be treated the right way.”

“But I should have learned my lesson before!”

“You could have, but it’s okay. You will now. You’re smart, smarter than you think. You’ll get over it, doesn’t matter how long it takes, you will get there. I know it.”

“How?” she asks in a whisper, unable to break the eye-contact. 

“I don’t know how you’ll do it, but–”

“No,” she shakes her head. “How do you know it?”

He slowly runs his tongue over his lips, thinking his words through before speaking them.

“I just do. Do you believe me?”

Without hesitation she nods.

“I do.”

***

“If someone said one day I would be waiting for an Uber with my boss, drunk out of my ass at two am, I would have laughed them in the face.”

Y/N is holding onto a lamp post with one hand, twirling around it like a little kid as Harry stands by the curb, one hand in his pocket, the other one holding his phone, tracking the Uber that’s supposed to pick Y/N up and take her home. He is watching her with a tiny smile, it’s great to see her so carefree after her breakdown earlier. 

“Which part is so unbelievable?” 

She stops and steps closer to him. She can’t stand still, keeps shifting her weight between her feet and Harry is on alert in case she loses her balance. 

“All of it,” she grins up at him, blinking lazily. “Except the drunk out of my ass. That happens sometimes.”

“Really?” 

“Ooh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Am I in trouble?”

“Because you get drunk sometimes? You’re an adult, you can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but… you’re my boss,” she giggles, then starts swaying as if she could hear some music. “It’s not professional to get drunk.”

“Not when you’re working. But you’re not at work right now.”

“Nope,” she shakes her head, popping the ‘p’ sound. “I’m on the street, with Harry Styles, after drinking with Harry Styles! And now I’m gonna go home in an Uber that Harry Styles ordered for me!”

“Are you enjoying saying my name?” he chuckles, glancing at his phone again, The car is five minutes away. He is already dreading the moment it arrives, because that means the night ends. But he knows she has to get home and sleep it off.

“I do,” she sings. “It has a nice ring to it. It’s a cool name for a cool guy.”

“Oh, so I’m cool?” He knows he shouldn’t take advantage of her drunken state and keep her talking, but he just can’t get himself to stop.

“Yeah. You’re cool and smart and scary sometimes and mysterious, but not tonight,” she giggles as she keeps swaying around, while Harry can’t take his eyes off her, not when she is talking about him. “People at the office are scared of you, but I think you’re great.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You’re amazing, I always look forward to seeing you. Sometimes I…” She giggles at whatever she is thinking about, completely oblivious at how intently Harry is listening to her. “Sometimes I ask you about things I know just so we can talk.” She shakes her head with a chuckle, but it’s enough for her to lose balance.

She gasps when she starts falling, but he is quick to grab her by her arms, yanking her towards him to keep her from smashing against the concrete. She is not laughing anymore, especially when she realizes that her chest is pressed against his, hands still holding her arms firmly. And his eyes are piercing into her gaze in a way that takes her breath away. 

“I love when you come asking questions,” he admits. “That’s usually my favorite part of the day.”

Her eyes widen at his words and when his gaze shifts down to her lips, they part as she gasps for air. Her chest presses even more against his as she fills her lungs and she feels even more dizzy now than before. 

“I want to kiss you.”

The words blurt out of her before she could think them through, unaware of the effect they have on Harry. His gaze darkens and it moves down at her lips again. But before he could say or do anything, the Uber pulls up beside them. 

Harry lets go of her, then opens the door.

“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”

She blinks at him a few times as he just stands there, waiting for her to get inside. She is confused. Drunk and tired and the longer she stays there the more awkward she feels, so she finally gets into the car, then Harry shuts the door and the car starts moving. 

Y/N turns around and sees him still standing there, hands in his pockets, his head hanging low. Then she slides down in the seat, closes her eyes and then replays those couple of moments when she was pressed up against him over and over again until the car stops at her apartment building. 

***

Sunday evening Y/N contemplates calling in sick. Preferably with something that keeps her away from the office… forever. 

Once she woke in the afternoon of Saturday, sobered up, with a killer headache, memories from last night came crashing down on her and the embarrassment took over instantly. She spent the rest of the weekend in agony, cursing herself out for being so stupid. 

Did she really tell her boss she wanted to kiss him?

Yes, she in fact did. After getting drunk with him, crying about her ex and telling him all kinds of stuff she never planned on admitting to him. Like that she finds him cool and smart and sometimes scary. 

But the kissing part is obviously the worst.

No matter how badly she dreads Monday morning, time doesn’t stop or slows down, the week starts and she has to go to work and face the consequences of her actions. 

Maybe Harry won’t be there. But he is always there. 

Maybe she can hide all day and avoid him… until the rest of her life or until she finds a new job. Very unlikely, but whatever. 

Her palms are sweating as she swipes her card at the gates and heads up to her floor. She’s getting paranoid, thinking that everyone in the elevator knows what happened on Friday, even though no one even bats an eye in her direction. 

Luckily, as she logs into her computer at her desk, work swamps her and provides enough distraction to stop her from throwing up when she sees Harry for the first time.

It seems like he is having a busy day too, he is in and out of meetings for the most part of the noon, she only sees him passing by or sitting in his office with his AirPods in, a sign that he is in an online meeting. But even when he is free for a short time, Y/N makes sure she avoids facing him. She even considers moving to another floor’s common room with her laptop for the day if it means she can survive without running into him and God forbid, talking to him. 

But then comes an email. 

It’s a bit after lunch time when it pops up in her inbox and her stomach drops to the floor right away when she sees it’s from Harry. Then another wave of anxiety washes over her when she reads it.

FROM: Harry Styles

Come to my office at your earliest convenience. -H

“Oh shit,” she mumbles under her breath and it catches Linda’s ears across from her, who gives her a questioning look. “Nothing.” She just shakes her head, grabs her laptop and then heads to Harry’s office with shaking knees. 

Is this the part where he tells her behavior was unacceptable? Did he maybe report her to HR for what she said?

She knocks on the door with a sweaty hand, Harry looks up from his screen with a blank face and nods at her to go inside. 

“Hey. I got your email.” She sounds like a frightened little girl as she closes the door behind her and stills, hugging her laptop to her chest. 

“Thanks for coming right away.”

Harry pushes his chair back lazily, stands and rounds the desk before leaning against it leisurely, his eyes glued to Y/N who is still standing by the door, too scared to go further. He doesn’t like the distance.

“Come, sit,” he nods towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

Obediently, she walks over and takes a seat, blinking up at him with wide eyes while he looks unbothered and almost… bored. He squints his eyes at her, tilting his head to the side a bit before finally speaking up. 

“Is there a specific reason why you’re avoiding me all day?”

Her lips part at his question and her first instinct is to deny.

“I-I’m not–”

“Y/N, you are. Normally, you would have already asked me at least two questions, but instead you walk out of the office every time I step out of mine. You are avoiding me.”

She shuts her mouth, trying to come up with something to say that could save her, but nothing comes to her mind. 

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze drops to the floor, his stare is too intense for her. “I’m so ashamed about… everything I said on Friday, I didn’t know how to face you. I said all that… inappropriate stuff you definitely shouldn’t have heard. like… ever. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N,” he softly says, but her gaze remains on her shoes. “Y/N, look at me, please.”

Finally, she dares to move her eyes back to meet his and then he continues… in the most surprising way.

“What I’m about to say, it’s going to be fully unrelated to work. Can you treat it as something outside of this setting?” Y/N nods. “Use your words, I need to hear you say it. Do you understand that this conversation is outside of work?”

“I understand,” she answers weakly, her mouth running dry. 

“Good.” He nods and then continues. “Do not feel sorry for anything you said. I’m glad I know all of that. The only downside of it is that now I need every ounce of self-control not to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you forget your own name.”

This time her mouth hangs open. For a moment she is not entirely convinced she hasn’t just imagined it all. That it wasn’t just her sick mind playing tricks on her. But then he speaks again.

“Did you hear what I said? That I want to fuck you into oblivion on this desk?”

“Yes,” she breathes out, trembling. 

“Good. Now I want you to go back to your desk and think it through whether you want that too or not. If you decide that you feel the same way, stay late and come back here when everyone is gone. Understood?”

“Yes.”

She feels dizzy, but not the same kind she felt on Friday, this is entirely different. Turning around she walks out of the room, but she’s on auto pilot as she returns to her desk. She leans back in her chair and slowly looks around.

No one in the room knows what just happened. Everyone is just minding their own business while Y/N is on the verge of fainting.

“You alright?” Linda peeks out from behind her screen with a concerned look on her face. “What did he want?”

If only she knew! Y/N thinks. She is dying to share, to take the whole conversation apart and analyze every bit, but she can’t. Instead, she forces a smile to her face.

“Just checked in with me about the migration.”

Linda examines her suspiciously for a second, but then her phone rings and she returns to her work while Y/N opens her laptop as well, but as she stares at the document in front of her she was working on before Harry’s email, she can’t even make out a word. 

Instead, she is busy thinking about what happens when the office empties out. 

***

Harry was dragged into some urgent issue sometime in the afternoon and it gave him enough work to take his attention away from prying outside, impatiently waiting for everyone to leave while making sure Y/N is still there. 

He answers one call after the other while emails keep popping into his inbox and he loses track of Y/N. When he finally drags his gaze away from the screen he looks up and finds the whole floor empty. All of it.

Meaning that Y/N left as well. Groaning he stands from his desk and walks over to the window, staring out into the night that has slowly creeped up on him. He truly thought she would stay. That she felt the same desire and thirst as him and she wants to explore whatever it could be, but maybe he read it all wrong. 

How will this affect their work? He should have thought of that before telling her he wants to fuck her on his desk. Who even does that? He is supposed to be her boss, her mentor, this was so incredibly inappropriate, he is thinking about reporting himself to HR and–

There’s a knock on his door. 

Turning around he freezes when he sees Y/N standing there with doe-like eyes and with just one look she is already making his pulse jump. He nods, barely noticeably, but she sees it and lets herself inside, closing the door behind her even though it’s truly just the two of them now. 

“Hey,” she sheepishly says, stopping exactly where she did earlier when he wrote her that email. This time however, Harry is the one to cross the room and then stop just inches away from her. She wonders if he could hear the wild hammering of her heart in her chest, the dizziness is back and she hides her hands behind her back so he doesn’t notice them shaking. 

“Did you think about what I said?”

Harry talks slowly and clearly and she couldn’t tell just moments ago he was freaking out too. But now that she’s there, every racing thought is gone from his mind, all he is thinking about is… her. 

“Yes.”

“And what’s your conclusion?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” There’s a tiny bit of sassiness in her tone, just enough to start a fire in him. 

She catches the way one corner of his lips curls up as he takes another small step towards her, his hands come up to cup her jaw on either side and he gently tilts her head back, angling it perfectly. Then slowly, he leans closer until his lips are almost touching hers, but then stops. As if he is giving one last chance for her to change her mind, but she is still there, waiting for him to finally break down the wall between them and he gives in. 

He lets his hunger take over instantly. There’s no testing the waters, feeling each other up, he kisses her in a demanding, needy way that takes her breath away at first, but she is quick to react the same way. 

Her hands move to his shirt, grabbing the fabric at his stomach while his hands are still holding onto her face, but then they slide down her sides, settle on the back of her thighs and she knows exactly what he wants her to do. So without breaking them apart, she jumps up, he catches her with ease as she wraps her legs around his waist and he blindly carries her to the small sofa by the wall. 

He sinks into the cushion and she straddles him, giving her a bit of advantage in height this way, so now he is the one to crane his neck while she is leaning down to meet him. 

It’s a mess, lip biting, tongues crashing, soft moans and grunts, his palms wander over his thighs and ass and then he sneakily peels her soft pink shirt out of her tight jeans so his hands can slip under the fabric and feel her heated skin. 

She is desperate to feel more, to ease the aching throbbing between her legs, so when she starts rolling her hips and grinding against his rapidly growing bulge, he can’t help the moan that slips out of his mouth, right into hers. 

His head drops to the back of the sofa and she takes the chance to kiss her way down the column of his neck. After dozens of fantasies doing the same thing during meetings, now she is finally tasting his skin, gently nibbling on a spot that has his hands grab onto her ass, pushing her even more into him. 

When their lips meet again her fingers dance down his chest, feeling up his abdomen through his shirt and then settle on his belt, she starts undoing it, but he is quick to stop her, which breaks her out of her trance., scared that she did something wrong. 

Reading her from just one look, Harry shakes his head softly.

“I know I said I want to bend you over my desk, but I don’t want the first time I’m inside you to be here. So we are gonna do it differently for now.”

As he speaks, his fingers work the buttons of her shirt, one after the other until the white, lacy bra is revealed underneath. 

“Is it fucking Christmas?” he breathes out, hooking a finger into one of the cups and tugging it down so your breast spills out of it. An airy chuckle slips out of her, but it quickly turns into a gasp when he sucks her pebbled nipple into his mouth, even gently biting and tugging on it. Her fingers comb through his hair, his fingertips massaging his scalp as her grinding continues. 

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” he murmurs against her chest, one hand freeing her other breast from the bra as well, so he can pay equal attention to them both. “You’re gonna grind that needy cunt of yours against me until you come, just so you can see what it is like when you’re not even undressed and imagine what will happen once I get to unwrap you.” He smacks her ass gently, a moan slipping out through her parted lips. “And I’m gonna leave marks all over tits and suck your nipples until they are so tender you can barely touch them, so when you go home and see yourself in the mirror, you’ll remember every moment of what’s happening right now.”

His hands grab her hips and make her roll them harder, his erection and the seam of her jeans rubbing into her soaking wet cunt. She eagerly takes the pace he dictated, desperate to chase her release that’s building in the pit of her stomach rapidly. 

“Do you like that? Do you like my plan?” he asks, his lips brushing against her nipple, teasing her with his touch just enough to make her whine and ache for more. 

“Yes,” he nods eagerly, hands clasping the back of his head to pull him closer to her chest and feel his lips on her heated skin again and he complies happily. 

“Then let me feel how badly you want to come.”

If someone told Y/N in the morning, that tonight she would be dry humping her boss like a horny teenager, she would have checked that person into a mental hospital. Yet here she is, grinding against Harry’s massive bulge, shamelessly rubbing her cunt against his erection while his mouth is full of her breast. 

He has already left a few marks on her and she knows she’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next 2 weeks, but she couldn’t care less. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she cries out when she finds just the right angle where the seam of her jeans and the tip of his restrained cock rub her clit perfectly, sending sparks through her nerves. 

“Go on, want to see you come undone.” He bites the side of her left breast and she hisses, but it feels so good, so fucking great she moans loudly, her head falling back at the sensation.

“Harry, I–Ah!”

His hands grab her ass and he pulls her in, making her fall forward, her chest pressing up against his as she buries her face into his neck, fastening her movements as her orgasm is nearing. 

“Come on, Y/N. Let me see you come undone.”

“Wanna feel you inside,” she whines, but keeps moving.

“I know and you will. Just not now.”

She whines again in a disapproving manner, but doesn’t stop and Harry’s hips start moving as well. He encourages her a few more times, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine and right when she thinks she can’t take it anymore, the bubble pops. 

She gasps and moans, her movements get dragged out and Harry forces her to look him in the eyes as she rides out her joy. She loses track of time, can’t tell if it lasts for seconds or hours. But when it’s over she collapses into his arms. 

“You did so good. So fucking good,” he murmurs into her ear, kissing the side of her face wherever he can reach. When she finally catches her breath she sits up straight and looking down she sees that he’s still hard underneath her. 

Instantly, she reaches down, ready to take him out and take care of him, but he stops her again. 

“Not now.”

“But you… didn’t–”

“I know,” he smiles softly. “But if we go further now, I won’t be able to stop and I told you, I want the first time I’m inside you in a different setting.”

She understands and it’s flattering knowing he wouldn’t be able to control himself if they continued, but it feels unbalanced now that only she came. 

“Are you sure?” she asks, hands flattening on his stomach. 

Smiling, he nods. “Very sure.”

She thinks to herself for a bit and reaching up Harry brushes a lock of hair behind her ear as a smile stretches slowly across her face.

“What is it?”

“So… this means there will be a next time?”

The playful glint in her eyes amuses him. She is sitting on his lap, her chest still exposed, lips swollen from his kisses while his erection is still straining against his pants and she asks if there will be a next time. 

“Oh yeah. I will watch you come undone over and over again in every possible way. If you let me.”

She bites into her bottom lip, sheepishly blinking down at him, but her answer surprises him for a moment.

“I’m not letting you.” His face falls and his heart drops into his stomach, but she is quick to continue: “I’m begging you.”

“Oh baby, for that, now I’m adding  spanking to when I’m bending you over my desk and fuck you.”

Her smile only grows wider.

“Please, Boss!”

PART II.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[notjustjavierpena]

Sundays

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Season 2 of The Last of Us ruined my life, so here is my attempt at fixing my eternal wounds. Lord knows that everyone deserves better. I spent four weeks trying to perfect this. It might be the best thing I’ve ever done. Please be kind and patient with me ❤️

Summary: Joel’s Sundays are for early morning patrol and making babies with you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic fluff, soft but haunted Joel, banter, teasing, Star Wars reference, kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, breeding kink, one use of daddy, emotional and filthy sex, creampie, aftercare, cuddling 

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65911807

Sundays

On Sundays, Joel does the morning patrols while the rest of the town sleeps. When someone asks why he has volunteered to do them, he lies and grumbles something about nobody else wanting to get out of bed during the weekend so he has to. Yet he always wakes up at the crack of dawn without complaint, showers in the miracle of hot water, fixes himself a cup of coffee, and reads his book - they have recently emptied a library on an extensive supply run and they found The Shining on dry shelves - with his glasses perched on his nose. He likes it; the quiet time for himself while feeling your presence in the house as you sleep under warm blankets upstairs. His morning routine always ends with taking off his glasses to put them on their designated spot on his nightstand and kissing your beautiful hair, watching your body curl up contentedly underneath the covers or if he is really lucky, you turning onto your back and sleepily muttering a demand for a proper kiss. 

He goes back down, ties his well-worn leather boots on a dining chair, holsters his handgun, throws his rifle over his shoulder, and then leaves with a quiet click of the door. 

The Spring air bites slightly in the morning but he doesn’t mind, appreciates the way it wakes him up a bit more and sharpens his focus. He misses you the second he steps out the door, thinks about your warm and soft skin while he checks the front of Ellie’s house, and then walks towards the stables, the gravel crunching underneath his boots. He listens for anything out of the ordinary - can’t be too careful - and even checks the fences surrounding the horses, the weak spots he keeps meaning to patch up himself because he doesn’t trust anyone else to do it right.

Patrol is as usual. He doesn’t expect any danger and thankfully doesn’t find any either, but he is a man of habits and old habits die hard. His free hand rests near the strap of his rifle in case of anything out of the ordinary, but the only time he needs to be on his guard is when Callus, his horse, gets frightened by a rabbit in the bushes along the trail. He calms the animal with a broad, soothing hand and kind words. He thinks about Sarah, about how she would have loved the nature here, and rarely anymore about how her blood felt on his skin.

He is gone for a few hours, three maybe but no more than four. He does all of his usual inner checklists and rides past each checkpoint, all the while thinking about your hair still messy from sleep, your bare foot sticking out from under the blanket.

On his way back, his thoughts continue circling around you. It’s almost dangerous how much he lets his mind drift; how easy it is to get lost in wondering what you’re up to on his way home. He pictures you in the sun coming in through the windows of the house he built for you with hands that have killed but now get to cradle your face too. He loves you most bathed in morning light that makes your skin glow. With a half-laugh, you said you’d be doing housework today, dragging your fingers through his hair last night whilst tangled up in his body. 

He wonders if you’re humming to yourself while mopping the floors or fighting extra stubborn dust bunnies underneath the couch. What are you wearing? What are you thinking about? Is it him? Are your souls really so entwined that your thoughts are full of him whenever his are so full of you? Joel doesn’t even know if he believes in that sort of thing - hearts beating in sync like that - but you don’t give him a choice sometimes, a feeling that not even Ellie has ever teased out of him.

When he arrives home, he smiles with his eyes closed at the twinkling sound of the wind chimes hanging on the porch ceiling. There is dust on his boots and his bad knee has started to ache from the slow change in temperature over the last few hours but he feels content. He removes the rifle from his shoulder to leave it by the door and then toes the boots off carefully. 

He inhales the smell of home deeply in through his nose before holding his breath to listen for any sound of you. His brown jacket comes off right after he has noticed the quiet movements upstairs that make the house creak just a little. However, it’s not the noisy floorboards but your soft curse that makes him climb the staircase.

A younger version of him - a version that was newer to you - would have first thought that you were up to something sinful and private but Joel now knows that the near-silent swear is one of quiet frustration. You don’t hear him at first, too busy muttering to yourself about the fitted sheet that keeps slipping from your fingers as you try to tug it down over the corner of your shared bed. 

“Shit,” you curse again quietly, bent across the bed in a kneeling position with one knee on the mattress and the other stretched out behind you. 

He knows he should announce his presence like the gentleman he is but he is too busy trying to catch his hitching breath from the sight of your gorgeous body. The swell of your hips and the dip of your back have his old ticker beating in his chest like a kick drum but it is, more specifically, the choice of your underwear that has him feeling downright lightheaded. Hugging your hips are a pair of lace panties and they’re see-through and barely there but most importantly cute. You probably picked them up from the trading center without much ceremony, drawn by their aesthetic rather than their practicality, and then forgot they existed until laundry day arrived. He can understand why; they are so impractical that they almost piss him off but it doesn’t outweigh the near-laughable way he is already hardening in his jeans.

“Hey baby,” he finally says from the doorway, his hands shaking slightly with how hard it is to not just walk up and grab at your hips as a greeting. 

“Joel,” you jump a little in your spot and look at him over your shoulder, the sheet still hanging between your fingers in a secure grip, “You scared the shit outta me!”

“What are you wearing?” He asks simply instead of apologizing, trying to act nonchalant as he walks to the side of the bed but you pick up on the strain in his voice. 

You glance down at yourself with a sigh but it just makes your ass jiggle, “Oh, these? They’re my last clean pair right now since I’m doing an epic pile of laundry today. Sun’s coming out. Perfect day for hanging it outside.” 

“They’re–” he replies, gaze fixed on your ass. His voice continues in the same strained tone but he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. 

“They’re awful,” you help him and start struggling with the corner of the sheet again, “Feels like my ass is being flossed by lace.”

Joel snorts at that, “Should take ‘em off then.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You snort yourself, finally managing to pull the sheet over the edge. You flatten it with your palm, caressing it almost as if you’re apologizing for the roughness you’ve caused it and so it looks like it hasn’t been a battle to secure. Then you flop onto your back, stretching your arms out behind you to hold yourself up. The grin on your face is mischievous and sexy yet subtle, the position you’ve put your body in pushing your chest out so he can see your breasts through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. He thought he wanted you badly during his patrol but looking at you now, he thinks he might lose it if he doesn’t touch you soon. 

“You’ve got me. Take them off,” he murmurs with a smirk but when you playfully don’t follow orders, he starts leaning down over you slowly with his sore knee dipping into the mattress. You try to crawl back, squealing but he has taken on bigger things than you.

“Joel,“ you stop him by planting your bare foot on his chest but the way your leg bends at the knee just exposes that soft, intimate skin between your legs. He wants to dive into you but he’ll humor you for a moment.

He grabs your ankle to make you laugh but his mind betrays him by reminding him of how fragile his existence here with you is. Jackson remaining completely untouched by reality is a fantasy. He doesn’t tell you, never would tell you how easily it could all go wrong again, because you deserve the fantasy more than he does.

“Joel,” you repeat his name and he comes back to you if only briefly, watching your loving grin with a deep ache in his chest. He hasn’t felt this kind of ache since Sarah’s mother, a tell-tale sign that you are the real thing for him, that he built this house so you can fill it up with love and life. 

Life. It seems almost bordering on insanity to be thinking about children at his age in a world so broken but your eyes sparkle in the town square where mothers carry their babies in wraps while trading cartons of strawberries. You deserve to nurture someone other than him because your soul has so much to give. 

“If you’re not going to do anything but overthink,” you hum teasingly when time has passed and Joel feels embarrassed for having been lost to his own inner world. His thumb presses into the curve of your Achilles heel, tugging your body closer to himself by wrapping your leg around his waist instead.

“You’re the only person who talks to me like that,” he chuckles softly while his cheeks are slightly crimson. 

“It’s good for you,” you shoot back him and it is the truth.

“Was just thinking ‘bout how you do so much that I don’t deserve,” he says with his eyes roaming over your face and chest for a place to kiss. He chooses the column of your throat, “Cooking, cleaning… Lovin’ a man like me.”

“It’s not about deserving,” you muse and sigh at his stubble on your skin, “Do you want me?”

What kind of question is that? He wants you so much that it sometimes feels like it would be easier to live in your veins, to replace his tired and aching bones with yours if it meant never being without you. He sounds psychotic, sounds like something that he read in the string of horror novels he has gathered by now because they feel oddly comforting when there’s something worse on the other side of the gates. 

“Forever,” he replies simply. He would rather die than not have you.

“Not too much to ask for if you ask me,” you reach to cup his face, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones until he closes his eyes at the feel, and then pull him to your lips. You kiss him gently for a moment but with how much Joel wants you, he quickly lets it drift into something else, something more. He kisses you with all that want in his body, needs it to stop prickling underneath his skin. 

“Have you had breakfast?” He murmurs against your mouth, checking in, the question heavy with care for you. 

“No,” you whisper back into another kiss, fingers threading through the hair at the back of his neck, “I was waiting for you.”

“What if, after this, I take you down to the market?” Joel starts descending his lips on your body. He mouths over the mound of your breast, nipping at your sensitive nipple as it strains against the fabric of your top in its arousal, “Could get you fresh strawberries. Or blueberries we could throw in pancakes.”

You let out a soft moan that’s mixed with a breathy laugh, “I’m ovulating.”

“What?” Joel’s voice has gone scratchy. He stills his touch, moving to look up at your face to see what emotion is playing on your features. He didn’t even know you were keeping track. At first, he doesn’t understand your point but you’re quick to let him in.

“There’ll be babies all over the town square,” you grin down at him, cheeks warm with playfulness as you glow, “Just saying.”

“Maybe one of ours one day?” Joel tests the waters.

“Yeah?” Your grin turns into one of unabashed glee.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind it if we made a baby,” he answers quietly and moves his palm up under your top to lay it flat against your belly, “We could try. I mean, we’ve been dancing around it for months now, haven’t we?”

“Then don’t pull out,” the way you say those words, like honey dripping from your tongue, makes Joel swear under his breath and his cock jump. He watches the dizzying sight of you shimmying out of the lace underwear before spreading your legs to give room for him. Looking between your legs is like he’s been offered something holy by the devil himself, your slit already glistening and ready for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he smooths his hand down your belly to grab the hem of your top again, easing it up your body. You lift your arms over your head to help him get it off, the movement of your body making your tits shake. He moves backward on the bed, kissing his way down your sternum while squeezing your right breast. You arch slightly into the touch, taking it with a soft release of your breath.

Joel revels in you, revels in the fact that you have allowed him something that he hasn’t thought about in decades because the world did not allow it. He wonders if he’ll be a good father again after all these years of never letting himself think of being something to someone so tiny and fragile, dependent. Ellie had already been a mouthy teenager when he got her, and while she had relied on him, she had had one hell of a survival instinct and hadn’t needed any cradling. A newborn will be different; they will need parts of his being that he hasn’t touched since Sarah was handed to him in the hospital. He doesn’t know if he can trust himself to cradle his newborn with hands that now only know how to pull a trigger. He doesn’t know if it is like riding a bike, that it will happen naturally the second he sees them, but he knows that he wants it. God, he wants it. 

“What are you doing?” You question when he is suddenly between your legs, his feet out over the edge of the bed, and it makes him stop dead. Maybe he should stop having these thoughts when he makes love to you. 

“What do you mean?” He asks as he is halfway down on the floor to get in position. He furrows his brows in confusion. 

“You do realize that this is not how babies are made, right?” You giggle in response, sweetly enough to make his cock twitch. Oh, that’s what you’re playing at.

“Ain’t it?” He smirks.

“No!” You snicker. 

“Then I guess I’m just doing this for fun,” he replies and swings your legs onto his shoulders. He yanks at your hips to pull you towards his mouth, “C’mere, you.”

You squeak with giggles and Joel’s heart dances to the sound. However, your laughter switches to a moan the second his mouth touches you and covers nearly the whole of you. He doesn’t need to think about it anymore, has learned what you like by now from the countless times he has eaten your pussy like it was his last meal on this godforsaken earth. 

“Shit,” you gasp towards the ceiling and cross your ankles on the broadness of his back. He swears that he can hear it in your voice how your eyes roll back when his tongue caresses you in soft strokes. You taste so good that he moans into you, lapping up every drop of sticky sweetness with his tongue. 

“I know, baby. I got you,” he pauses briefly to suck on two of his fingers to wet them, following it up by turning his hand toward the ceiling and then sinking the digits inside of you. He expertly presses them upward, curling them into the spot that immediately has your hips jolting. 

“There,” you tell him with a whine, twisting your hands in the freshly-made bed sheets with a curse that he doesn’t know if is directed at him or the stupid fitted sheets slipping from the corners again, “Joel— ah, don’t stop!”

You gasp as he rubs into that spot over and over again, pairing it with his mouth circling in on the place you need it the most. Your clit is hard and sensitive, perfect for wrapping his mouth around and sucking until his cheeks hollow. 

“Oh God… Oh God,” your pitch rises as he works you open on his hand. At some point, you lose yourself enough in it to start tightening your legs around his back and shoulders. It makes your pelvis lift off the mattress until your back is beautifully arched, makes your cunt press firmly into his mouth for any friction. He grabs your thigh with his free hand for leverage and groans softly into you, taking the reward of sinful pleasure shooting straight to his cock from the way you fuck yourself on his fingers and mouth. 

Outside, the heat can’t compete with the warmth coming off of your body. He can hear another gust of wind blowing through the wind chimes around the porch, mixing with the sound of the city waking up and coming to life. He could die right here, he thinks, between your beautiful thighs with skin that smells just faintly of your homemade lavender oil but right now mostly of sex. It wouldn’t be bad, hell, the whole town would say that he died doing what he loved. 

A hand tangles in his hair now. You have relented on the sheets in case you’ll rip them, and Joel takes each painful sting of his follicles with pride as you balance on the edge. He sinks his fingers deeper, works his mouth faster to get you to tip the scales and come so hard that the world fades away from the both of you. 

It happens a moment later. You hold your breath for just a few seconds, completely quiet as you concentrate while the anticipation within your body crackles like electricity he swears, he can feel. 

Then you cry out in relief, throwing your head back and squeezing your thighs around his head so the sound in his good ear blurs as well. He can feel your muscles clamp down on his fingers, near-arrogant pride swelling in his chest from how skilled he is in making you feel good. 

He keeps his mouth on you as long as you allow him, the tip of his tongue flicking over your sensitive and goddamn pretty clit until you protest with a whimper. When he draws back, he keeps fucking you through the aftershocks with his fingers and dares look up at you, heart beating out of his chest and his dick hard enough that it is aching. His fingers are wet with your come, making your cunt squelch in the otherwise quiet room. 

“Attagirl,” he breaks the silence with a praise in his easy southern drawl, letting his fingers slip out finally, “You liked that, huh?”

You hum approvingly in your afterglow and he can’t get close to you fast enough. He crawls up from the floor, grunting at the way his knees remind him of his age, and moves up on the bed. He slots between your legs again like he was made to fit there, kneeling between your thighs. You look soft and dazed, chest still heaving from your high. 

“I love you. Every damn inch of you,” he murmurs softly. He looks at your face, how you smile with your eyes closed and your nose is slightly scrunched up as the sun dances over your features through the window. You’re glowing. Simple as that, no other word for it, like you will when carrying his kid, and he should tell you that you’re the only peace he has ever found. He should say it to you but he cowers each time. It feels more weighted than telling you that he loves you. 

“I know,” you whisper back eventually, eyes blinking open and your hands reaching for his belt. The metal clinks as you undo the buckle, a smug little grin on your face. 

“Alright, Han Solo,” he rolls his eyes for show and then moves over you, the devil in his eyes. He wipes his slick chin and lips on your face, making you laugh in the way that is enhanced by dopamine. He bumps his nose into yours, “Think you’re funny, huh?”

“Little bit,” you smile and get the fly open. You reach inside and wrap your fist around him, the playful air in the room settling immediately when you stroke him lazily, “But I’m just trying to get you to take your clothes off.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans while you run your thumb over the slit of his dick, “You’re killing me. Gimme a sec of this.”

You give in and let him have this for a moment, stroking him with practiced flicks of your wrist until his hips start to rut so he can fuck your hand. He moans as he stares down between you, the muscles of his neck and shoulders wound so tight from trying not to come that it is a miracle his old bones haven’t snapped in half.

When you feel him near the edge, you squeeze around the base to halt his orgasm. You’ve started to breathe hard alongside him, clearly worked up by the sounds he is making for you. 

“Fuck me,” you beg him, your voice stutters as you frantically try using your free hand to yank his jeans down over his hips, “Please, Joel, I need you inside me.”

He thinks about how worked up you must be between your legs after holding out for so long. Knowing how wet you get from touching him like this, you must be soaked for him and ready to be taken care of like you deserve. It means that Joel doesn’t need to be told twice, already tugging his jeans and underwear just far down enough for what matters. 

However, despite the rush of getting undressed, he still takes the time to reach for one of the newly-fluffed pillows resting against the bed’s headboard. 

“Up,” he says without further explanation but you know what he wants to do, would probably trust him with your life even if he just gave you a look. When you lift your pelvis in the air without question, he slides the pillow underneath you so your hips are tilted just right for him to reach deep. 

Your legs are spread, your cunt practically served on a platter for him with how it is raised slightly in the air, squeezing around nothing as if begging for him. He looks down at your face as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, coating the very tip in a mix of precome and your shiny slick. 

You aren’t watching him though, too busy chewing on your bottom lip with your eyes glued to how the head of his cock sinks into your wet heat. When he starts stretching you with his thick girth, your mouth falls open in a soft moan. 

He places a hand just above your mound, holds you there while he bottoms out with a growl. Then he rocks his hips once then twice, setting up a pace that gives the both of you time to indulge in each other. You are snug around his dick as he fucks you, slick heat that makes his skin tingle and his breath stutter. The remnants of a southern gentleman in him know that he shouldn’t compare, but no other woman has ever made him unravel so much during sex, has ever made him feel so powerful and powerless in bed. 

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he demands to regain some form of control, staring down at your face contorted with pleasure. 

“You,” you gasp feebly, “It’s yours.”

When he fucks you like this, you are his. He doesn’t need to second guess this fact, knows it just from the way your bodies are connected like they know it too. 

He reaches for your thighs, his knuckles going white as he lifts them onto his hips. You lock around him by instinct and force him forward, so he has to brace himself with a hand beside your head. The angle makes him go deeper, the thick head of his cock kissing at your cervix and your greedy cunt flutters like it wants to do the impossible and pull him further in. 

“Look at me,” he says in a voice that reveals just how good you feel to him, watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, “Say it like you mean it.”

You stare up into his eyes, your brows furrowed as the tip of his cock drags along the front of your walls. He is in there deep, focused on coming just where it matters. Meanwhile, you have to concentrate on forming words, needing to start over several times with how close you are to babbling.

“It’s– ah, fuck. It’s your pussy, Joel. I’m yours,” you cry for him, your pitch close to, but not quite, the one of a wounded animal. The difference is the lack of hesitation; you are both so sure of each other that it makes him ache all over and ignore the sweaty strain on his old back. 

Your hands scramble to touch him but you make a noise of complaint when his chest is covered by his shirt, the barrier a nuisance when you want all of him. He shed the flannel earlier along with his jacket, but right now, it is the soft fabric of his t-shirt that you’re pulling at to get to his skin. 

He dips down to let you pull it over his head, it slipping down his arm unceremoniously until he can grab it with his fist and toss it over his back. Your trembling hands find his skin immediately and it makes you sigh with relief. Your nails drag through the hairs on his chest, leaving red streaks in their wake until you grab the flesh of his sides. 

He sees how your eyes roam over his torso, where scars tell stories of a life much more complicated than this. You have loved each one of them so many times that he doesn’t feel insecure about them anymore, have traced them with your fingers and kissed them enough to get him to believe that he is more than the events that brought them. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you say softly and settle a hand at the back of his neck, drawing him into your arms. He braces himself on his forearms, kisses you like he isn’t inside of you, and has missed you for a weeklong patrol, still taken aback when you say things like that. 

“Sweet girl,” he whispers against your lips and you whimper as his cock pulses inside of your body. You look at him with fiery love and lust, the stare so intense he knows that this will be over soon because he can’t hold back anymore. 

His next thrusts are slower but rougher, harder and insistent in touching the parts inside you that make you barrel towards the edge. He can feel the difference between all the other times he’s been buried in your cunt to the hilt and this time. While the air is still thick with labored breaths and whispered cries for a higher power he doesn’t know if he believes, this is not just sex; this is about taking the very best parts of you and mixing them with the leftover parts of him that he has found aren’t fatally broken because of you. 

The sound of his name pulls him back to you. His pelvis has aligned with yours with each rock of his hips, the spot just above the base of his cock grinding into your twitching clit. 

“I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna come,“ you choke on air, “Please, Joel. Don’t stop, baby.”

“I know, honey,” he moans at the way you flutter around his length, voice cracking at how you feel better than a Texan summer. You’re so wet it sounds filthy when he fucks you, barely pulling out anymore and letting you soak his dick while he switches to simply grinding. For a moment, he is even scared that it’ll set him off before you’ve had your second fill, “Jesus, yeah, I can feel it.” 

Your orgasm hits like a runaway train. The hand resting on the back of his neck slides down to squeeze his shoulder, fingers denting his skin as you seek something to cling onto in your state of ecstasy. You come so hard that air is knocked out of him from how tightly your cunt grips him, his whole body shuddering like he’s the one losing it.

He presses a lingering kiss to your gorgeous neck while your head is thrown back, feeling the rapid beats of your heart under his lips. Your free hand cradles him like you’re meant to be a mother already, making it irresistible for him not to inhale your scent of lavender from the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.  

“You feel too good, baby, ’m not gonna last,” he grits out against your sweat-slicked skin, his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat. 

“Don’t want you to last, want you to put a baby in me. Gimme a baby, Joel,” you beg him and bury your nose in his temple. You squeeze him tighter in your arms, whining from oversensitivity as his thrusts start to intensify toward the end, “Wanna make you a daddy, baby, please, I’m ready.”

Daddy. The word coming from your mouth makes Joel snap. He pushes his hips against yours and comes with a groan, the head of his cock flush against the very back of your cunt. In his life, he has witnessed wildfires and his climax spreads through his lower belly just as fast. His breath is stuck in his lungs as he fills you to the brim, his tongue wanting to say filth but only your name comes out. It’s good enough to make a grown man tremble without remorse in the embrace of his woman. 

After a beat, his body sags from exhaustion. When you let go of his shoulder to run your hand over your hair, your nails have created little crescent marks on his body. He grunts as he rolls off of you in fear of crushing you underneath his weight. You whimper at the loss, a few heavy drops of his seed landing on the pillow still beneath your hips. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs as a haze settles over the both of you, the sweat on his skin turning slightly chilly. He holds his arm out to invite you into the space that always holds you perfectly and you oblige without a word. He’d lay here forever with you if he had to, would embrace being trapped here with you until they had to send out a search party. 

He is still breathing hard when you lay your head on his chest, draping your arm across his body whose stamina isn’t what it used to be. You don’t comment on it though, simply hold him while the sheets get dirty again from the mess between your thighs. While the world fades away around you, Joel decides that he’ll help you do the extra load of laundry. 

Without thinking, his fingers absentmindedly start tracing up and down your forearm in a soothing motion. You swing a tired leg over his body in response, attempting to get impossibly closer despite already practically melting together with him in the post-orgasmic heat you share. 

Outside, a young child shrieks with excited laughter and Joel nearly tears up from how new the sound seems even though it is a daily occurrence in the little town. He must know if you feel the same. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks and breaks the quiet, still caressing your arm gently. 

“Just thinking,” you reply and splay your hand on his chest, brushing your thumb over his nipple without thinking. You kiss him where you can reach. 

“About?” He pushes, looking down at the top of your head as if he can read your emotions like that. You probably could with him. 

You crane your neck to stare at him with a little tired smile, “Babies. You. How much I love you. I love you.”

“I know,” he answers smugly, arching an eyebrow with a smile. He thinks another confession of his devotion might set his chest alight and right now, you don’t deserve to have his guilt winning.

“You asshole,” you dissolve into a burst of laughter while his smile turns wolfish, your body curling in on itself on top of his chest. He loves your laugh, the way you nearly snort and feel embarrassed by it. It makes him settle a hand on the base of your skull and drag you into the sort of kiss from a person who’s learning to trust joy again.

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