#Fierce is so proud of his boy right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherryjuiceblues · 9 months

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𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟐

➯ HARRY IS A LITTLE OBSESSED WITH Y/N AND Y/N JUST WANTS TO KNOW WHEN HE’LL HAVE SEX WITH HER AGAIN. ✰ dom!harry sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 14k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist

Harry doesn’t love his job.

He doesn’t hate it either. But he certainly doesn’t love what he does.

It’s not the hardest of occupations; since becoming CEO (and after getting over the guilt of surpassing his colleagues in status), having the option of assigning others to complete otherwise arduous tasks for him has eased some of his tension.

However—inevitably—those smoothed over stress bumps are quickly replaced by bigger, more stubborn protrusions that take more than a gentle palm to flatten out.

But Harry is comfortable—he’s financially secure, surrounded by a loving family and loyal friends, and treated with respect, revered even, by some. So despite being true, what Harry had told Y/N—that You think I was wishing to own a finance company when I was a little boy? indicating that it has hardly been a dream come true—he is grateful for his position in life. Aware of his privilege but also immensely proud of how much his hard work had paid off.

However right now, as he sits behind his desk with his phone burning a hole in his pocket, Harry hates his job.

Hates the schedule that’s pulled up on his monitor, hates the squeak of his chair as he rolls over to the filing cabinet, hates the way the clock is ticking louder than he’s ever heard it before. And the seconds are taking twice as long as they should.

With each passing minute, the presence of his phone in his trouser pocket becomes heavier and heavier; its lack of buzzing and dinging feeling abnormally disheartening. And everytime his work phone—that’s lying face up on his desk—lights up with an email or a phone call and creates its shrill cacophony that pushes the line of Harry’s brow deeper and deeper into his already default frown, he becomes less and less of the easy-going boss he presents to everyone.

It’s enough to drive anyone mad; this torturous waiting. Harry feels as though he’s being dangled over the edge of a cliff but never dropped, never given the sweet release of death which he would gladly take over the pain of not knowing when he was going to fall.

One week. It had been one week since Harry first met Y/N. One week since they’d had maybe the best first experience he’d ever had with someone, and one week since he’d heard a single thing from her. And the memory of that night is enough to have Harry distracted. Enough to have him on the edge of his seat.

ㅤㅤ

“Please.” She whines—to Harry’s teasingly obvious question.

“More what?” He wants to ask. Wants to make her spell it out for him.

But he doesn’t. He’s nice.

Nice as he stretches her open with his fingers—intrusion more than easy with the copious amount of slick between her thighs—whilst his tongue plays with her masterfully. She pants and whines, bucks and wiggles. Loses the ability to say coherent words without stuttering over them.

He takes his time—relishing in the fierce, squeezing heat around his fingers—in the way her excitement makes his palm shine the longer he goes at it.

And he’s thorough in the treatment he gives her. Behaves as if he’s a professional that’s been paid to change her life. He imagines Niall as his agent who had come to him earlier in the day with a ‘great opportunity’ and demanded Harry give his absolute best.

Pretends that his entire career rides on Y/N’s enjoyment of this night.

Harry thinks, really, that Y/N’s lack of experience means he could do a subpar job in actuality—but the thought just makes him go harder. Makes every flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers feel like the best thing she’s ever known.

She’s soaking into his skin and it’s filthy; the way Harry’s throat rumbles out a groan at the thought of his stubble bathing in her—the resentment he’ll have in washing his face later.

Little does he know that Y/N is thinking the same thing—or rather, imagining the irritation of her thighs his facial hair will leave behind. The soreness that can only come from pure satiation, that she’s sure she’ll admire with great joy. Her first marks, her first memory-jolting piece of evidence of the night she was finally touched. The day she’s been waiting for—for far too long, in her opinion.

Especially now, as it’s happening, and Y/N doesn't know if she’ll ever be able to stop chasing this feeling. Her limbs fight between stretching out in tight, desperate attempts to grasp for her orgasm—and melting into the mattress in a mangled mess of flesh and bone. Harry’s mouth struggles to compete with the smile that overtakes his expression, watching Y/N’s body writhe in response to his ministrations.

This is his favourite thing to do.

She tightens, and squeaks, and drips—Harry’s fingers working her just right and tongue curling in fast, pointed flitters—as she propels further towards the edge. Close, so close; lips moulding around a string of garbled sounds and hips pushing up into the large span of his hand. She’s trying to beg but she doesn’t get the chance because Harry is feeling her spasm in contracting waves and she’s slicking down his fingers, crying out—

ㅤㅤ

Harry’s debauched daydream fizzles away when his work phone chimes insolently. The screen lights up, forcing his eyes towards it.

A reminder.

Team meeting | in 15m

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair as the leather stretches. His trousers are tighter than he would consider comfortable, but he’s safe—no recognisable evidence of unprofessional thoughts in his professional environment.

Harry considers himself to be a focused man—often finds solace in working to provide distraction—but this constant replay that has been leading his mind astray whenever he even attempts to shift his concentration is proving to be a hurdle too high for Harry to jump over. He thinks if he makes himself come then the unavoidable meeting that’s starting in thirteen minutes might be less torturous to sit through.

But just as he smooths a palm over his thigh, there’s a telltale knock on his door. The rapping a pattern that only his assistant uses.

Harry clears his throat, shifting himself higher to appear more orthodox in his chair.

“Come in, Mr Rowland.”

The door makes way as it’s opened, rattling the blinds that preserve Harry’s modesty—matching that of the ones on the full-length windows that look out into the building.

The man moves to stand stiffly in front of his boss’ desk, suit free of creases and long hair tied back to maintain formality. Harry used to have long hair once.

Mitch Rowland is a quiet man; stoic, but not unfeeling. Harry believes him to be the thoughtful type, and he chips away more and more of his exterior everyday, he’s sure. Cracking a joke that makes Mitch laugh feels like a reward—an acknowledgment of all the hard work he puts in to becoming closer to his reserved assistant.

“Time for a briefing, Mr Styles?”

Harry nods, gesturing to one of the armchairs facing his desk. “Yes, go ahead.”

He’s respectful enough to look intently at the man sitting across from him. As he speaks, Harry doesn’t drift off into his fantasy land full of strawberry embroidered dresses and passion fruit martinis—no, he converses with Mitch like the approachable boss he takes care to be, discussing the best way to go about conducting the team meeting and how to amicably pull up the areas that his employees are lacking in.

Truth be told, it’s life changing having someone like Mitch as his assistant. He demonstrates capability—enough so that Harry can often sit back and let him take the reins—it’s satisfying when their brains match up like they're connected via bluetooth. It’s an easy relationship to maintain, and Harry often ponders about how grateful he is.

But never has Harry been more grateful for Mitch as he is right now. (Which is cruel really, for a situation that would probably lose in a battle of importance if voted on by a large audience.)

The meeting is going fine, most likely—Harry wouldn’t know because his mind is elsewhere once again.

ㅤㅤ

“That’s it, take a deep breath for me, darlin’.” He’s good at maintaining composure, but God if Y/N isn’t testing Harry right now. She’s still fluttering—more than ready to let him start pushing into her—as her arousal coats copious miles of skin. He leans over her, pressing a soft kiss to the dip above her chin as he rolls a condom over his neglected cock. The throbbing gets harder to ignore now that she’s laid out for him; all stretched and wet.

“Are you sure it’s gonna… fit?” Y/N looks down, pupils expanding at the sight. Long, and thick, and hard.

“I’m sure,” Harry drags his nose against her throat, lifting back up to catch her blown-out eyes. He smiles.

“I… I want you to feel good too, Harry. Please?”

His heart thumps and his eyebrows pinch. She’s special. He wants to take such good care of her.

“I feel so good, love. I promise.” Harry drops his hips to prove it, sliding through her folds and nudging her sensitive clit as Y/N’s breath shudders. “Are you ready?”

“Can I—can I hold your hand?”

She’s a doll. (Maybe in more ways than one permitting she’d like to be pliable for him, but right now Harry knows she’s cuter than even the sweetest of puppies). He wants to coo right in her face, obnoxious and embarrassing, before his voice takes on a squeaky pitch and he expresses Of course, you can hold my hand—you’re just adorable, aren’t you?

Instead, he wordlessly transfers his weight to the now singular arm holding him up as he reaches for the girl’s empty palm and tugs it up beside her head. Their fingers entwine as the mattress creates a mould of their knuckles—and Y/N’s eyes clear themselves of the fear of rejection, gazing up at Harry with such appreciation that he doesn’t even receive from his employees. Not that he’d expect them to but the way Y/N is looking at him makes Harry feel as though he’s done something far more significant than hold her hand or coax a few orgasms out of her.

It’s almost sad.

“Ready now,” she whispers, and Harry’s forgotten everything else.

He reaches down to stroke over her hip bone in soothing circles. “Keep looking at me, okay?” She nods, eyes never wavering even as Harry guides himself into her drippy hole.

The first feel of intrusion is new—different to his fingers—exciting and tight as the mushroom tip of Harry’s cock presses in gently. Y/N gasps but it doesn’t hurt; it’s a filling sensation, one that makes her question why she’s not always been doing this. It feels right, like it’s meant to be.

And when she breaks eye contact to look down, she sees that he’s hardly an inch in and exhales heavily into Harry’s face. He squeezes her hand, green surveying her expression. It takes all of his composure to ignore how tight she is around him. It’s euphoria.

“H-Harry,” Y/N whines, shiny mouth falling further with each centimetre discovered inside of her.

“So good, baby, you’re so good. Keep looking at me…there you go.” His voice is taut, even Y/N can tell, and she blinks at him because it’s all she can do—hoping she is communicating well enough with her eyes.

As he gets deeper, she suddenly expels a great breath, jumbled words tumbling out. “Thank you, oh—that’s so—oh my god.”

And Harry is bottoming out, balls resting against her bum, as he lets out some air of his own. “Look at that, darlin’,” he smiles, “took all of me, first try.”

Y/N’s face suddenly splits into a grin. She chances a lift of her leg, to open herself up more as she stretches it to the side, bent knee pressing into the sheets.

“I didn’t know I had that much space in there.”

Harry laughs (it’s quite literally forced out of his lungs) and Y/N starts to let out endless strings of giggles—delirious with overwhelming happiness—as her stomach starts to contract. She can’t stop laughing. And every one has her core tightening around Harry’s cock in pulsing flutters.

If he wasn’t searching deep in his mind for the stability not to build up too quickly, then Harry’s heart would be bounding at the sweet sound of Y/N’s giggles. Pure elation in the form of prancing lilts. Bouncing off the walls and racing past their ears; slicing through any of the nerves she had left.

To see her face bunched up in laughter is to witness beauty in its rawest form, Harry is certain. All whilst she lays bare with himself inside of her—connected as far as he can possibly reach—this feeling doesn’t compel him very often. If ever at all.

ㅤㅤ

Sitting at the head of the table with absent eyes, Harry’s nodding his head in faux-interest whilst his mind is full of filth. Not many eyes are on him anyhow, as Mitch talks through the monthly rates but—understandably—when his personal phone starts ringing disturbingly loudly, the heads of everyone turn to watch their boss answer it alarmingly quickly. The same boss who most employees have never seen handle a personal phone in their entire career at his company; might have believed he lived permanently in his office, in fact.

It’s a shock when he holds the phone up to his ear, shoots his assistant a glance and says, “You’ve got this, haven’t y’Mitch?” before exiting the room with a curt nod and a rushed shuffle to squeeze around the chairs.

Harry knows it’s unprofessional of him, but he’s been waiting for his phone to ring all week. So he’ll be damned if he misses an important call just to maintain formality. He can’t fire himself.

The voice on the other end of the line doesn’t quite contain the lilt he was hoping for, however.

“Heyyy, Harry.” He can’t help but sigh as he closes his office door and slouches unceremoniously into his chair. “You’re at work, aren’t you? Surprised you answered.”

“The luxury of being your own boss, Niall,” Harry watches the seconds hand spin around the clock on his wall. Each tick is echoed by nails tapping wood. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I was ringing to ask about you, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“You heard from Y/N at all?”

Harry looks away from his clock. “I haven’t. Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s more than alright. She had a great time with you.”

He smiles a little, “That’s nice. She’s very sweet, Niall.”

“Mhm she is… I think you should see her again.”

Harry thinks so too. “I’d like that. But I haven’t heard from her, which is fine—I didn’t want to overwhelm her.”

“That’s the thing though—she’s so nervous, even though she’s been proper gushing about ya. She’d love to see you again, I’m sure. But she’s too scared to call you.”

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. “Alright… what are you saying, Niall?”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N is shy.

Chronically shy.

She always has been and that certainly isn’t going to change overnight. Especially not if she were to meet the most attractive man she’s ever seen, have him take her home and then alter the very definition of pleasure itself. Especially not then.

But she so very wishes that was the case.

The post-it note hasn’t moved from the position Harry left it in when he penned his number. He’d been so sweet when asking if he could give it to her—like making her come multiple times wasn’t enough of an indication that she might want to see him again.

And she really does. God, she wants it more than anything.

But she’s an overthinker. She’s a worrywart, a nervous Nellie, a wet blanket—whatever. In every version of the phone call they have in her mind, she says the wrong thing, or Harry lets her down gently, or someone else picks up the phone. And if she texts him, her responses are awkward, or he leaves her messages on delivered—or worse read—or even worse he asks to see her again and then Y/N has to panic over fifty completely different hypothetical scenarios.

She decides that it’s just not meant for her—relationships, or human interaction, happiness—she’s not sure what specifically, but she knows it’s too much to handle. Harry would only be disappointed in the long run anyway; Y/N is simply saving his time—doing him a favour.

Niall isn’t inclined to agree—because of course the topic came up in conversation. Her friend had never been so eager to talk about anything in his entire life, and he loves talking.

The morning after Y/N met Harry, she was greeted by a dozen text messages, followed by multiple missed calls. (If Niall was ever in danger, Y/N thinks she’d be inclined to ignore him—never phased by the multitudes of spam she receives on a daily basis.) And at the first opportunity he had, Niall was knocking—no, pounding—on her door, sing-songing her name from outside her flat.

There was a reluctance in letting him in. This was all new territory for Y/N and Niall knew that. However in fairness to her—rather oversized golden retriever of a—friend, he attempted with all his heart to pretend he wasn’t bursting at the seams for as long as he could. Grinning in a somewhat subdued manner as she opened the door—elated beam withstanding his journey to her sofa—until he sat down and just couldn’t help himself, springing back up.

“You didn’t fuck on the couch, did you?” Half teasing, half deadly serious as his eyes widen and he shuffles away in an attempt to evacuate quicker if Y/N were to confirm his fear.

Y/N cowered behind her hands, cheeks burning, “No! Don’t say it like that, Niall.”

“Oh right, I’m sorry, hang on,” he cleared his throat obnoxiously, “You didn’t make sweet, sweet love on the couch, did you?”

She squawked and Niall cackled, holding his arms in front of his face when Y/N started to batter him with a sofa cushion.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll stop, I’ll be nice.”

He was nice. A relief to have someone to talk to, and never before has Niall been happier about anything, Y/N is convinced. She didn’t realise the status of her sex life was something to be so thrilled about, but his smile threatened to blind her.

And once the initial embarrassment had somewhat passed, Y/N was honest.

“He was so lovely, Niall. Far too good for me, I mean—God,” she smiled but it’s a little sad.

“Hey,” Niall’s eyebrows pinched, “don’t go there with me, young lady.” He flicked her arm. “Harry wouldn’t have initiated a thing if he didn’t want to. And he left his number, come on.”

And that’s how they’d ended up in a tizzy over calling him. Y/N just couldn’t make herself do it. No matter how sweet, and pretty, and kind he’d been to her. Niall had even offered to do it for her but that had sent humiliating shivers down her spine, imagining it play out. My friend has a crush on you—absolutely not.

The days pass and Y/N works. She eats poorly, often asleep standing by the time she arrives home—and if it is proper food she’s ingesting, it’s something she’s woken up at two a.m. to bake because she’d had a sudden itch to do it. The rest of her time at home is spent cleaning the mess she made whilst baking—which turns into moping with a feather duster in hand. Moping about the best night of her life and how she’ll never get a part two.

Nighttime comes and her fingers don’t feel the same. It feels fruitless to even try. She’s hardly got hands big enough and none of the curling does her any good. It only makes her angry, and that’s the one thing she was always told not to be when going to bed.

She asked Niall not to bring Harry up in conversation again; that it would only make her sad and she’ll just have to get over it. Over him—or over whatever he could’ve become.

So the last person Y/N assumes is at her door when she hears knocking, is the very man she’s trying to pretend doesn’t exist. She’s exhausted—been home for no longer than an hour after a long day of answering the phone to far more people than usual, trying to maintain equanimity as she booked meetings in the rapidly filling calendar. Her lunch break had been undeniably cut short—some may argue it was cut out completely—when the computer she was entering sensitive data into decided to crash (without saving) and Y/N had to compose herself in the toilet so she didn’t stain inky droplets all over her desk.

She was hungry, and tired, and sad, and—above all else—overwhelmed. Y/N’s not sure the last time in her life when she wasn’t, and it really builds up in a person. It’s near impressive that she’s even still running. If Y/N were a computer, much like the one at work, she would have crashed years ago. And point blank refused to turn back on again.

It’s unsettling, to say the least, when she hears that knocking. Because who could possibly be at her door right now? It’s too late for it to be the postman, Niall is still working—and that is literally all the people she knows.

In a panicked rush, Y/N scrambles to answer it, too startled to check her appearance or wipe the panda circles from around her eyes. It feels like everything happens in slow motion, from the door opening to reveal the man standing behind it—to the unveiling of his gentle smile and kind eyes. Y/N is half-inclined to slam it shut in his face with an affronted squeal.

She doesn’t quite squeal, but a noise is certainly made. One of terror, Harry might believe, as her eyes widen and flit around his face in a frenzy. The flowers in his hand are only just noticed, and she pauses on them for a moment, an expression of disbelief passing over her features before they become chaotic once again.

“Harry! I—” Y/N pastes a hand to her cheek in bewilderment, heart sinking at the sight of the man’s eyebrows kinking, migrating towards the centre. Then she trails further down, sees him still clad in his suit—crisp navy pressed to perfection. It’s jarring the way her brain switches from awkward to lewd for a split second, until she looks away with shame.

“Darlin’, are you alright?” He steps forward, hand reaching out. “You’re not going to faint, are you?” His voice is light and Y/N wants to laugh because what a ridiculous suggestion, of course she’s not going to faint! but she’s not so sure she believes it.

“No, no, I’m okay,” she lies.

“Let’s sit you down. Can I come in?”

Y/N swallows, exhaling as she looks up at him, before nodding slightly and stepping to the side to allow him room. Harry barely stops to assess his surroundings—only guides her to where he’s been before—her sofa feeling like the softest of clouds in this moment, while her heart is racing and her skin is tingling. He stays remarkably calm and light on his feet, whisking himself away to do God knows what but Y/N is hardly concerned. All she can think about is the fact that he’s here, and she’s a catastrophe, and she has not prepared for this. She has NOT prepared for this.

Harry finds the kitchen, near tripping over his feet to turn down the boiling pot of water that’s about to overflow. He throws some pasta in the saucepan—something quick he can fill her tummy with—and digs around for another that he fills with a jar of sauce. Then he’s rifling through cabinets to find a vase for the bouquet in his hand—which is something she apparently does not own, so a jug will do—before filling both that and a glass with water to take back to Y/N.

She looks timid and small—hands fiddling with themselves in her lap as she disassociates whilst staring at her coffee table. Harry places the jug down right where she’s looking and she blinks some. Her lips upturn just a little at the sight of the buttery petals.

“Drink.” Y/N accepts the glass easily, swallowing multitudes. Her face is dewy, a slight sheen of anxiety, and her knees bounce. “Better?” Harry softens his gaze, aware of the tension between his eyes—he knows he can sometimes appear cross without realising.

Y/N nods, rubbing at her nose like a little rabbit, he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is small, “you’ve been at work, and now you’re here and I’m… I’m a mess,” she tries to laugh but it falls flat.

“Don’t be silly. I’m a big boy, Y/N, you don’t need to apologise.” He’s encouraging as he smiles, rubbing over her knee soothingly. She’s still in her pencil skirt and white shirt—but she looks less like a sexy secretary and more like a sweaty schoolgirl. It’s hardly self-respecting.

Y/N grips the glass like it’s an anchor, altering her train of thought. “Uh… no one has ever… bought me flowers before.”

The smile he gives her is compassionate. A small curve of his lips and the widening of his eyes as if to implore his feelings to display correctly on his face. The way he disagrees with the fact of it—why could that be true? It shouldn’t be true. Everyone deserves flowers.

“There’s sunshine in your smile… yellow tulips, that’s what they mean.” He offers the information with zero insecurity.

Y/N’s face starts to burn, heart fighting to burst through her ribcage. She opens her mouth, and then she closes it. Harry’s watching her so, very intently, eyes crinkling when her hands press into her cheeks as if to will the heat away.

“I don’t know what your favourites are, but I thought you might like those.”

“No…” Y/N shakes her head, “yellow tulips are my favourite flower… definitely.” She chews on her lip to detain the smile threatening to break free.

“Yeah?” His eyes are shining, light reflecting off the sea glass of his irises and unlocking the depths of his spirit. “You gonna let me see your sunshine smile, darlin’?”

She laughs, a bright, bubbly giggle as her palms smother her face. “No!”

“What?” Harry grins. “What’s so funny?”

“Stop talking like that… it’s— I’m… flustered.”

“‘M just talkin’!” He insists, hands holding themself in a surrender.

“You’re being… a lot.”

“Too much?”

“No. It’s just— people don’t talk to me like you do. It’s nice… but I don’t know how to react.”

“Just show me your pretty smile, I think that’s a good place to start.”

She giggles again, eyes full of mirth—trying so desperately to embrace the fire in her cheeks. “Thank you for the flowers, Harry.”

They hold each other’s gaze.

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” his voice is soft.

“Can I— Can I make you dinner?” She starts, desperate to repay him in any way that she can. And then her eyes widen and she springs from the sofa. “Oh shit—”

“It’s okay, I did it, love.”

“What?”

“I turned the water down and put some pasta in. I’ve got it all sorted.” He touches her elbow, conveying his wish for her to sit back down.

She doesn’t.

“You— Really?”

Harry nods.

“I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be doing that! I can’t even boil a pan of water properly.”

“Listen to me, Y/N.” His voice hardens a little. Not enough to be scary, or rude, or suggest he has ill intentions. His voice hardens and suddenly Y/N wants to listen to him, just like he said. It’s relieving, almost, the way his words cut through the thick fog inside her skull.

“Sit down, okay?”

She does, eyes wide and nervous.

“You remember what we spoke about last week?”

The look on his face prompts Y/N to answer—to brush past the sex despite it being the first thing she thinks of. “About you being a— a dominant? Or… uh… taking care of… people?”

“Mhm. How would you feel about letting me take care of you?”

And Y/N is shy—it’s been discussed—but she knows she really has to be honest right now. Even if that means embarrassing herself.

“Guilty,” she murmurs.

Harry straightens up some. “Guilty? Now why would you feel like that?”

“Because! You’ve turned up today with—with flowers and you’ve put dinner on and I already want to pay you back. I don’t deserve it, I’ve done nothing to warrant all of this.”

“All of this?” Harry parrots. His eyebrows furrow but he maintains a gentle tone, shifting closer to Y/N and holding his hand out, palm facing up. She places her own on top with the hesitance of a newborn lamb, eyes meeting his. “Darling, I don’t mean to be blunt but… this is not a lot. Flowers are really the bare minimum, and putting pasta in a pot is hardly a back-breaking task. Lovely… relationships, friendships—they’re not transactional, okay?” His thumb drags across the back of her hand.

She’s going to cry.

“You don’t need to pay me back for anything. I’m here because I want to be. And I want to show you that you deserve to be taken care of. Because you do, Y/N. You do deserve it.”

A tear brims over her rapidly filling waterline. “I’m sorry,” she laughs wetly. “I’m just tired.”

Harry nods, “I know,” wiping her cheek. “You just need a little help. And that’s okay.”

“You wanna do all this… and you barely know me… why?” He’s cloudy in front of her eyes, tears obstructing his handsome face.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week. You know that?”

“Okay, sure.” Y/N rubs at her lashes, smearing more mascara around. But she’s smiling a little, at the absurdity of Harry’s words.

He replaces her hands, the soft pads of his thumbs doing an adequate job of preserving her dignity whilst he wipes the smudges away.

“Mean it. Been distracted at work remembering it all.”

She’s not laughing anymore. No, her skin is tingling now. And her throat squeezes around a swallow.

“But it’s not just about sex. I like you, Y/N. And I want to like you more—get to know you, spend time with you. Is that convincing enough?”

Y/N shakes her head. But Harry sees the glint in her eye. He narrows his own at her.

“No? Are you playing with me? I thought you were a sweet, good girl.”

The skin of her cheeks has never been subjected to so much heat in such little time. It spreads out to her chest, and down her arms. She must be praying to some sort of God to ensure her hands haven’t become sodden yet.

“That’s not fair,” she squirms. “I just… like hearing you talk.”

“Hm, you like hearing me say that I like you, is that it?”

“Maybe,” she looks down. “Never really heard it before.”

“Well, get used to it, love. I want you to become sick of those three words.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Harry just smiles. “Will you let me?”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N is confused.

Or rather, she is tentative. Anxious, uncertain, disbelieving—waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Harry sits across from her in the café they’ve frequented quite a few times in the last two weeks. His eyes are closed, taking in the first gulp of his coffee as it slinks down his throat and warms his chest, leaving a pleasant trail of heat in its place.

She admires him; something she wishes she could do more without his beady eyes on her and making her feel all embarrassed. He’s pretty—she likes to look at him. Especially when he’s not in his usual suit and slack attire. (Not that her brain doesn’t start to malfunction when he’s embraced by the flattering lines of fabric clutching to the muscles Y/N has had the pleasure of being crowded by but…) The contrast of seeing him comfortable and unfiltered is enough to make her relax too.

Or attempt to relax.

The first time Y/N and Harry came to The Little Snail Café, the former of the two had been nervous. (That is hardly information anyone would pay for.) It was a date as far she had been aware; Harry had explicitly labelled it so. And Y/N hadn’t been on a date since she was with her ex… but their time out was hardly ever impressive enough to warrant any kind of excitement.

Even remembering that she’d had a boyfriend renders every moment spent with him as less and less meaningful. As time spent wasted. He’d never told her her smile was that of sunshine. He’d barely ever told her he liked her.

But Y/N wasn’t thinking about him. Not on that day.

Harry had forced her to let him serve her dinner that evening he’d brought her flowers. Had implored that she change into something comfortable and sternly ordered glue your pretty arse to that sofa, little miss. That had been hard to argue with. Then he’d proceeded to plate up perhaps her first proper meal she’d consumed in a week and ask her about her day.

Y/N had been a little hesitant to admit the extent of her misery but Harry cottoned onto her pause quicker than most would. He was earnest in his sympathy, eyes void of ridicule as she detailed all her misfortunes.

“No wonder you nearly stacked it when I turned up,” he’d joked. “I’m sorry you had a rough day, love.”

It had been nice to have company. A pleasant silence whilst the two filled their stomachs. Y/N had missed it irrevocably—someone to breathe the same air with.

That had been when Harry asked about taking her somewhere the following day during her lunch break. A quaint place I think you’ll like. It wasn’t far and he’d have her back at work just in time. Y/N found that she trusted his word.

And although she had been worrying about it, as soon as Harry walked through the front doors and into the reception—wearing a chestnut suit that once again clung to him, like thick globules of honey, with his slicked hair that begged to curl onto his forehead in ringlets like that of a piglet’s tail—she had tunnel vision.

Her boss could have come in and fired her on the spot and Y/N wouldn’t have heard a thing. Only the rush of blood in her ears as her pupils expanded to the size of ten pence pieces and her stomach became the home to a dozen butterflies.

Harry had watched her reaction as she’d read the sign above the café—smiled at her bright eyes when she’d told him how cute it was. Had smiled even larger when he took her inside and let her discover the tiny snails etched into the edges of the tables.

“No one else has ever shared my passion for these little guys,” he’d emphasised as they sat down in the corner, sunlight flooding in through the windows and brightening up their irises, making Y/N giggle easily. Harry could tell she wasn’t laughing to make him feel better—or just to flirt—and that only made him try even harder to elicit those sounds from her pretty mouth.

He’d insisted he wanted to get to know her better. So that’s what he did.

Harry learned that Y/N eats far too much sugar, doesn’t sleep enough, and wishes she could have a pet cow. Or that is how he heard the words that exited her mouth. Y/N had only said she usually baked goodies in the dead of night and that videos of little fluffy calves make her cry.

The two never glanced away from one another. It was the kind of chemistry that drew eyes. Subtle glimpses from other customers sipping their warm drinks and cherishing that collective sense of human connection just from witnessing two people so innately into each other. Old couples nudging the other to reminisce on their younger days—workers wiping down tables and feeling a sense of respite during their long day at the unmistakable widening of the woman’s eyes in an attempt to see all of the man before her—to hang onto his every last word.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink.”

“Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

Y/N had asked him lots of those questions. And had seemed very content with every answer he gave her. Perhaps apart from that last one. Y/N might have preferred cats but it wasn’t a dealbreaker.

It didn’t last long enough, in her opinion; their date. She had to return to work far too soon for her liking. But Harry paid for her toastie and hot chocolate, much to Y/N’s disarray, and dropped her off with a stroke of his thumb to the back of her hand and a kiss to her cheek.

She’d smiled so much she’d had to bite her lip to tone it down. Receptionists were never that happy.

ㅤㅤ

Their second date had been impromptu. And not really a date. Harry had knocked on her door once again—however this time, Y/N hadn’t jumped out of her skin. In fact, she’d just finished decorating a cake she’d hoped to surprise him with and the shock of his presence was replaced with elation at the coincidence.

The door opened, and before Harry stood a smiling girl with youthful glee painted all over her face. A pleasant difference from the last time. She giggled to herself and instructed he close his eyes as she guided him to her kitchen where the sweet smells were surely giving away any element of surprise. Still, Harry played up to it—feigning shock—(it’s not that he’s a cruel man but Harry remembered things about people and Y/N wasn’t so hard to read).

“Oh! It’s beautiful, darlin’… you made this f’me?”

Y/N nodded, grinning. A proper smile, unabashed and without premeditation. Harry felt its warmth; lucky to receive such a display from someone he’d previously seen so reserved.

The cake was cute; rusticly smothered in vanilla buttercream and decorated with halved strawberries circling the edges (Y/N was not so hard to read) and it tasted heavenly. Harry never believed he was much of a cake person—he’d always much preferred ice cream—but devouring a slice with the knowledge it had been made with care, especially for him, had his taste buds in a sugarcoated frenzy.

Y/N had been so elated to watch Harry enjoy her baking that she’d failed to realise that he had come to her home for a reason. And so had Harry, apparently—a look of epiphany crossing his face as he was placing his plate in the dishwasher. (Y/N had tried to do it for him but Harry had smoothed a large palm over the top of her head and all thoughts just melted away.)

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mhm?”

“Weather’s supposed to be nice this weekend. Picnic?”

And Y/N still got flustered, sure, but…

“You came all the way here to ask me that? You have… you have my number, don’t you?”

Harry couldn’t help his smile, tongue stuffing his cheek to attempt to control it. “Yeah, I do. I do. Just wanted to see you. Good job I did too.” He nodded to the cake.

But Y/N was all twinkles. In her eyes, over her face, all the way to her toes. She had half the mind to believe Harry visited her just to garner this reaction; to inflate his ego.

“I won’t be able to take you for lunch tomorrow though, ‘m sorry.”

“Oh… that’s okay,” she smiled. It wasn’t okay. It was world-ending news. What was she supposed to look forward to now?

“Been offloading a lot onto m’assisstant lately—should really give him a break.”

Y/N frowned, “I’m sorry.”

Harry barely let her finish the word. “No. No, I don’t want to hear that.” He moved forward, nudging the back of his index finger under her chin. “Not your fault, is it?” His eyes bored into Y/N’s, stern but imploring her to not worry herself like that. To take the blame for something that was not her fault.

“I’m— I…” Words failed to form, eyelashes brushing her cheeks in repeated blinks.

Harry swept it under the rug. It’s not something he wanted her to get het up about. Another time—he’d thought—another time he’d make sure she understood never to apologise unnecessarily. To feel guilty about him causing an inconvenience just to see her; because God forbid she accepted that she was good enough to be treated with such consideration. Another time. “I’ll come see you the day after though, yeah? I still want you to try the beetroot soup.”

“Idon’tlikebeetroot,” the girl mumbled, lips downturning with the admission.

“What was that, love?”

“I don’t think I like beetroot, Harry.” Her eyes lifted…and there was that guilt once again. Fear that disliking something may cause offence or trouble.

“Have you ever tried it?”

Y/N’s silence was deafening. She smiled shyly up at him, skin tingling with the beginnings of heat—whilst Harry simply shook his head with a playful eye roll before stroking his thumb over her chin. The plush pad met with a soft indentation.

“Have an early night tonight, okay? Get some rest.” The syllables rolled off his tongue like a gentle caress; told her she looked tired in quite possibly the kindest way.

Y/N nodded, focusing all her energy on the feeling of his thumb on her skin.

And when Harry had gone, leaving her heart an overexerted mess of muscle and blood turned flower petals and bubbles, she’d simply looked to the ceiling with a shit-eating grin as she tried to swallow a giggle. There was nothing inside her that was not touched by Harry—and everything transformed from rickety and paint-chipped to sturdy and ornate—embellished down to the finest details.

ㅤㅤ

It had been a joy to wake up on Sunday.

Y/N felt the rays of sun through her curtains warming her sleepy face as her alarm blared—an alarm worth setting despite it being the weekend—and as her consciousness came rushing back to her, the memory of Harry promising to pick her up at eleven had her residual tiredness dancing away like it was performing the quickstep.

Dress weather made Y/N happy. Made her feel pretty and confident and giddy; something quite contradicting considering her skittish personality. And that’s exactly how she felt when she admired her sundress in the mirror of her wardrobe—square neck framing her chest, white fabric bunching around her shoulders in sheer puffs and cinching at her waist to flow into a floaty skirt. She looked sweet; the picturesque vision of a girl about to perch on a blanket under the sun and consume saccharine confections. Y/N pulled the hem between her finger and thumb, exposing the skin of her upper thigh, deep in thought at the fantasy of Harry taking her all in. His own confection.

And he did of course.

Though it didn’t unfold in perhaps the way Y/N had hoped. Which is why they’re called fantasies, she supposed. Because she was still her—despite feeling like a whole new person, she certainly wasn’t.

Harry had knocked on her door at two minutes to eleven, which may have been a problem had Y/N not been ready over an hour earlier than she needed to be. (With another bunch of flowers—white gardenias—“They mean I have a crush on you,” Harry leaned over and whispered as though it was some big secret. Y/N took them with a stifled titter and scurried off to place them in water, dress swishing around her thighs.) His gaze had dripped down her, as respectfully as he could manage when all he wanted was to glide his palms all over. The sight of soft skin contrasted by the sanctity of white cotton—her silky hands carrying a wicker basket (the true vision of a picnic) which Harry had plucked out of her grasp with little hesitation.

As a true gentleman would, he offered Y/N his arm to place her hand; the crook of his elbow providing a safe seat to rest from the weary necessity of holding the weight of her own limbs.

Y/N, however, would only be so lucky to mirror Harry’s formalities—to uphold the stereotype of womanly elegance—as her toe catches on a step down towards his car. Emulating their first night outside of her house, only this time it felt worse. It’s far more embarrassing, Y/N decided, to fall when holding onto the person you’re so enamoured by.

It was hardly a fall—moreso a drag of the foot, a buckle of the knee. But it was still enough to have her gasping and untangling herself from Harry. Harry who had kept her secure without any chuckling or patronising. Had his brows furrowed in concern and his hand to her elbow to steady her. Y/N still ripped herself away, turning so he couldn’t see her.

“Oh my god! Don’t look at me.” She was mortified; as the pair stood halfway down the steps, suspended in a moment.

“Darlin’—” Admittedly, Harry did have to try his hardest not to laugh. Not at her trip but her reaction; the drama! “Darling,” he tried again, “you’re alright.” His hand ghosted over Y/N’s shoulder blades, where fabric met flesh.

“That was—I’m mortified—that was so unattractive!” She barely meant it; was just humiliated as she’d said, but Harry shook his head behind her.

“You’re still very pretty, Y/N. Just a little clumsy. But that’s okay,” he turned her around, “you’ll just have to hold on tighter.” Harry admired the kinks in her brows, expressive in her shame, as he guided her hand back to his arm. “Very pretty.” He’d almost whispered it—not out of a wish that she had not heard but as an attempt to reseal their bubble—their intimate world.

The sun stayed magnificently bright for them.

As though it was watching its light bounce between their eyes; wanted the moment to last as long as it could maintain the warmth; the incandescence.

Harry followed the motions of her hands, fingernails painted in alternating shades of soft green and pastel pink, as Y/N devoured a punnet of strawberries. (She’d brought two.) She was a head-bobber, munching away with the occasional hum as her eyes transfixed onto his knees.

He was wearing corduroy shorts and a big floaty shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a white top poking out from underneath. Y/N admired his golden skin, the delicate tattoos bracketing his kneecaps, and the dusting of hair covering his lean limbs. It was still a joy to see him so underdressed, the true image of a boy she would take home to her parents.

The two looked symbiotic—two sides of the same coin, or heart, or strawberry—as Y/N offered one to Harry, who took it graciously with a smile and a scrunch of his nose. (Mild hayfever, he’d described it as.) From an outside perspective, they looked established. A relationship that surely began as highschool sweethearts. Enough so to have strangers whispering I’ll bet you a tenner he’s about to propose to her.

But neither registered any sort of outside perspective, they were the only two people that mattered, after all.

“You ought to be careful, love, you’ll get a bad tummy if you eat so much fruit,” Harry prodded, as Y/N opened up the second punnet of strawberries.

“Oh,” she frowned down at them. “My stomach sorta always hurts anyway.” He perturbed her none, eyelashes fluttering as she bit into a picture perfect fruit. Harry hardened his gaze—registering her unbothered tone with concern.

“That’s not… ideal, Y/N.” He was slow, cautious. “Y’shouldn’t be hurting all the time.”

Her eyes rounded out as she looked at him, lips plush as she took another bite. But she just shrugged her shoulders, tastebuds too preoccupied by the blossoming on her tongue. The wind picked up a little, blowing her hair across her face in soft streaks—as though the Earth was wielding a paintbrush, and using her strands as the medium. She whined a little, trying to avoid getting hair in her mouth as she finished the rest of the strawberry. Harry watched with starry eyes—zoned in on her shining skin—as a drop seeped out of the edge of her lips and dribbled down the side of her chin.

He reached over without hesitation, thumb swiping the liquid away, and Harry basked in the subtle widening of Y/N’s eyes as he brought that very thumb to his mouth to coat his tongue. Her fingers scrambled at her face messily, brushing all hair out of her eyes. It felt incredibly humid all of a sudden.

“Hey,” she pouted, refusing to be swept away under Harry’s ruse, “that was my juice.”

And Harry couldn’t help himself. Not when she was setting the scene just perfectly. “Mm, sorry,” he hummed, “d’you want it back?”

Y/N nodded, tongue darting out to wetten her lips.

“Hm?” He prompted.

“Yeah—yes, I do, please.” She swallowed; Harry’s eyes followed the contraction of her throat.

“Come here then,” he tempted. He was already in a very alluring position, elbows bracing his weight as he sprawled across the blanket, knee propped up and easily manoeuvrable. Y/N shuffled on her knees, the short space towards him, setting herself down with her hands placed on her thighs as though he’d instructed her to.

Harry pushed up, hand ghosting along the side of Y/N’s cheek. “What am I going to do with you?” Their breaths mingled, swirling across one another’s face and sinking into their skin. Y/N’s eyelids dropped closed, patiently asking, waiting. He took his time to admire her anticipating face, leaning closer to drape a sigh over her bottom lip.

“Kiss—kiss me,” she exhaled, eyelids twitching—wanting to open. But they didn’t. They stayed shut, stayed waiting, stayed hiding her from the world around them.

Harry smiled and Y/N swore she could feel it. Feel as he leant forward and brushed the tip of his nose down the front of hers. His hand stroked through the hair behind her ear, large digits coaxing her to melt and mollify into his hands, which she did so easily. She parted her lips wider, blindly tilting to try to meet his. Harry let them touch for a second—a press of flesh—before he leant back, nose nudging hers once again.

Y/N expelled a shaky breath, a little whine falling out of her neglected mouth. Her eyebrows kinked and her pretty nails dug into her thighs.

She chose to stay in the dark—from fear that it would be over if she opened her eyes. But that was something she needn’t have worried about. Harry leant back, enough to see out of the corner of his eye and reach for a strawberry.

He resisted the urge to indulge himself, mouth watering at the thought, and instead brought the pointed tip towards Y/N’s eagerly awaiting lips. Harry grazed his nose along her cheekbone, words finding her sensitive ears as he pushed the fruit to touch.

“Bite,” he whispered.

A noise of complaint lodged itself in Y/N’s throat, but she complied regardless, teeth sinking into the strawberry. Its juice coated her tongue and lacquered over her lips, the gooey pulp going down smoothly as she dared to open her mouth for another offering.

But as she did, suddenly the air around her face shifted, and the heat of Harry’s breath ghosted across her once more. Pointed and heavy exhales from his nostrils as she felt his tongue dart out to swipe across her bottom lip. It felt exploratory, leisurely—like he had all the time in the world to get to know her mouth. And it’s not like they hadn’t done this before—kissed—but it felt new, all the same. It had her breath hitching and her body leaning unconsciously into his touch.

Once her bottom lip stopped being enough, Harry pulled it down with the pad of his thumb and unlatched Y/N’s jaw in the process. He opened her up, and she let him completely, sat still on her knees as he played with her. She didn’t feel toyed with really—was still processing being touched in such a way and wondering if it would ever stop feeling so intoxicating. Harry took one final moment to bask in her blind trust; to watch the stillness of her face and feel the gentle (but rapid) breaths fan against his mouth.

And then he kissed her.

He really kissed her.

Y/N’s hmph quickly turned into a muffled mewl, open mouth accepting Harry’s tongue rubbing over hers as though it was her resuscitative medication. The only thing to stabilise her bloodstream, to soothe her fighting heart. He tasted like strawberries. And so did she. Sweet, and wet, and promising. It felt filthy but it felt clean at the same time—renewing and resetting, like running across soft sands to plunge into bracing sea water—Y/N would let him drip juice anywhere he liked, she’d let him feed fruit from his own mouth into hers. She’d let Harry spread her out and do with her as he pleased. Right there. Right then.

And it caught up to her all too quickly, the overwhelming heat of her thoughts. They were in public. But yet she couldn’t possibly entertain pulling away—not when Harry’s mouth engulfed her entirely. It wasn’t a cute kiss, a sweet reminder of affection or endearment. It was a kiss you shielded your child’s eyes away from, or grimaced at from nearby. It was sloppy, and sticky, and mind-numbingly dizzying.

Harry’s lips left syrupy residue wherever they landed—her top lip, her bottom lip, her tongue, her cupid’s bow. Y/N felt poisoned. Drip fed for weeks until Harry deemed the time right as he went in for the kill. She wasn’t sure she was even doing much of the kissing; perhaps she was simply being kissed. She tried to keep up, returned his tongue with her own and let her mouth encase his bottom lip in a frenzied attempt at reciprocation.

But his hands were holding her face, and then they were sliding into her hair, and all Y/N could do was feel.

Feel, and be felt, and—and—

ㅤㅤ

And Y/N is still confused!

She’s drifted away from their cosy table at The Little Snail Café—well physically, she’s right there but mentally… Her eyes are glossed over and she’s still very much contemplating the state of their relationship. Because… that kiss had been nearly a week ago and… well, Y/N doesn’t want to be thought of as some sex pest (she loses her virginity and now she’s clawing at the walls for orgasms) but she always thought—completely aware of her ignorance and unrealistic education—that the role of a dominant was to… fuck the living shit out of someone on the regular.

And even as she’s thinking that, with Harry right in front of her, she feels crude and disrespectful. But he hasn’t so much as hinted that he was going to have sex with her again, and that moment with the strawberries has been going round, and round, and round inside her head for days and nights and it’s driving her insane. Because, as previously established, nothing she can do matches what Harry made her feel, so any attempt at quelling the ache leaves her worse off than before.

“Don’t much like hearing how I feel about squirting, huh?”

Y/N blinks, and physically shakes her head as if to wake herself up. “Sorry?”

Harry sips from his mug, smiling. “Joke, love.”

“How uh—” she clears her throat, “How do you feel?”

“Hm… messy, but hot.”

She nods—perhaps a confusing reaction to such a sentence. Most people would probably quip back something flirtatious or coy. But Y/N just nods.

“What’re you thinking about in there?”

“Um… I was just wondering when— when you were gonna kiss me… again…”

“Y’are, are you? How uncouth.”

“Well— I just… When you said you were,” she leans forward, volume dropping considerably, “a dominant… I just thought… something different would be happening.” And then she starts to spiral. “Not in a— not because this is… this is great. I mean—”

“Settle down, darlin’, it’s okay.” Harry sighs, scratching the top of his head with a thoughtful expression on his lovely face. “‘s my fault, really. I haven’t explained much to you. And I have no doubt you are basing all of your facts on poor media portrayal.” Y/N scrunches her nose in a silent show of guilt. “It’s not just about sex,” he starts. “It is for some people, but for you I don’t think it is. And I’ve been slow, and cautious in fear of overwhelming you, and it’s resulted in probably a couple confusing weeks for you. So, I’m sorry.

“The whole point is for you not to worry, and you’re still doing that because I’m not doing my job properly, but I was worried you might change your mind so I held off. You can still change your mind, by the way.” Y/N shakes her head. Harry continues. “I’ll take you home now, if you like, give you the whoooole run through. Does that sound good?” Y/N nods. “And you’ll tell me if it’s too much, won’t you?”

“Yes, Harry. I will.”

“Can I take you to my home? Cook you dinner?” He asks, staring at the way Y/N’s head lays heavy against the headrest and her limbs are leaden, as she relaxes into his car.

She nods, lips quirking upwards with intrigue. At the blanks in her mind that will be filled. What to imagine when he’s in bed, when he’s watching TV, or eating… or… showering. “Can I help?”

Harry pretends to consider it. “We’ll see.”

ㅤㅤ

Harry’s house is… not what Y/N expects it to be.

Well, it is in some ways.

It’s large, and it’s expensive, and it’s astronomically grand. But it’s… it’s characterless. It lacks personality—and Harry Styles does not lack personality. Harry Styles is charming, and intelligent, and beautiful. But his house is stark white. There is no indication that his house is not a show home. It’s untouched, unlived in, unloved. And Y/N wasn’t expecting that.

“It’s too big, I know,” Harry gestures to the air around them as he watches Y/N take it all in.

“Not at all! No… it’s so beautiful, Harry.” And it is, it really is. She’s not lying. How can she lie when she’s staring at such a grand staircase? When the windows are so large, and bright that the space is nearly sparkling. And the garden she sees through the other side is blooming trees and unkempt flowers and just begging to be loved.

But as beautiful as it is, it’s still just… white.

He guides her through to the kitchen which…

“Woah,” Y/N admires, “you could make so many cakes in here.” She laughs and Harry grins just at the sight.

It’s true, there’s enough counter space to house at least ten separate mixing bowls. Impressively clean considering the observed shades of white. But there are signs of life in here—photos on the fridge, (one that catches her eye of two women that absolutely have to share his genes) post-it notes huddled around a pot of pens, a basket of cleaning products, a vase of flowers in the middle of the island. A comforting sight to see a little bit of the inside of Harry’s brain.

“They’re very pretty,” Y/N points at the photo on his fridge with a hesitancy that suggests she’s expecting him to berate her for being nosy.

“Mum’ll love that,” he laughs. “That’s her,” Harry points to the woman on the left, adorning sunglasses and a bright smile, and then to the right, “and m’sister, Gemma.”

“You look like each other.”

“Yeah? Y’think so?”

Harry shines when he speaks about his loved ones. Is so happy to talk about the photo of his father, his step-dad, his mum’s cat, the younger Harry surrounded by other young boys (“My mate Jonny, he was stoned as fuck in this picture. Had no idea.” His eyes crinkle around the edges and Y/N can only think about how beautiful those lines look).

Then he moves over to the island and tugs out a stool. “Come sit,” he pats.

He doesn’t let her help him cook—insists that she stay right where she is and carry on looking at him like that.

“Like what?” Y/N pretends she’s not shy about being caught.

“With those gooey eyes.”

“Gooey?”

“Mhm. You look one moment away from melting into the counter.”

“I do not,” she scoffs.

“It’s okay, I like it.”

ㅤㅤ

Harry owns the fluffiest rug in the history of the universe, Y/N is sure.

Obnoxiously cream in comparison to the rest of the colour palette. And in defence of Harry, the walls of his living room are painted a warm beige and his vast, velvet sofa is a deep forest green. The main attraction remains the rug, however. Long and shaggy and absolutely imperative to lie upon.

Y/N withholds the urge, but she stares pointedly and longingly towards it for too long to be considered a passing gaze.

“You can touch it if you want.”

“Hm?”

“The rug… that you’re eyefucking.”

“I—” she blanches, “It looks so soft.”

Harry makes the first move, blue jeans creasing at the knees as he crouches down. He pushes his palms into the strands and watches as they’re swallowed up into the depths of the faux-fur. Y/N hesitates, looking down at him on his hands and knees and wondering if it would be inappropriate to join him. But when he leans back, hands bracing himself behind him so he can lounge—mirroring the position of the day they had their picnic far too much—Y/N caves and drops to her own knees.

It’s sensory heaven—quite frankly—and Y/N knows immediately that she could get lost stroking this sole rug for hours. Harry watches her with an informed smile as she drags her fingers back and forth through the threads, already lost in a little world of her own.

“G’na have a mature and adult conversion now, alright, love?”

Y/N nods.

“Are you going to be able to listen and finger my rug at the same time?”

She narrows her eyes at him, adjusting from kneeling to crossing her legs. “I’m not finger—” she swallows. “Yes, I believe so.”

ㅤㅤ

“—I would encourage you to eat, go to bed at a certain time, turn your phone off. And I would want you to listen to me—not to argue, to trust that I know best.” That sounds easy, Y/N thinks. “I would want you to raise concerns in a polite manner—I don’t think it’s ever necessary to shout. And it would be important to me that you are always honest about the way you are feeling. No trying to make me feel better or pushing it down, okay?”

Y/N had feared it may be complicated, from the way Harry had suggested—had put off having this conversation for so long. But his commanding voice, and intense eyes make her feel so safe, and incredibly mellow. New feelings for Y/N. She nods.

“And when it comes to sex… trust is the most important thing. I don’t want to be doing anything we haven’t discussed, and I certainly don’t want you to make yourself uncomfortable in an attempt to please me. Now I know you may not be experienced with a lot of the things that are involved in these kinds of relationships but would you be interested in learning… with me? What you like and dislike?”

“Yes.”

“How are you feeling now? Good?” When Y/N nods once more, Harry gets to his feet. His voice slicks down her spine when he drawls, “Come here then. And kneel.”

Whilst Harry had been speaking, Y/N can’t deny the fact that her insides had started stirring around in anticipation. But now, as he commands her to station herself so far below him in stature, the silly little brain inside her skull begins to melt into mush. She crawls the short distance towards him until her eyes are level with the tops of his knees, and she just waits, sneaking a glance up to see Harry towering above her with a subtle quirk of his lip.

He brings a hand up slowly, warm palm ghosting the heat of her cheek and smoothing over her head in a comforting stroke. “I want you to call me Sir. T’help you slip quicker. You wanna be all nice ‘n’ mellow? Forget about all your stress?”

“Yes… Sir.” It comes out as little more than a squeak.

Harry chuckles, “You’re so good.” Y/N quite nearly beams up at him, insides swarming. “You like that? You like when I praise you?”

“Mhm,” she nods.

“Well it’s just so easy for me, darlin’. Because you’re so lovely.”

She closes her eyes, bottom lip nibbled to hide the giddy smile that overtakes her. Harry’s hand in her hair, scratching and smoothing, is already doing enough to make her eyelids heavy. But she supposes sleep is not the end goal.

“Your first time,” Harry starts. “Did you enjoy it?”

What? “Yes—yes Sir, of course.”

“What would you change about it?”

“N-nothing! It was perfect.”

He hums, nails dragging soothing lines into her scalp. “Which part?” Y/N opens her mouth but Harry keeps speaking. “When I fucked you open with my fingers? Got you nice and stretched for me—had your little pussy just quivering and begging me to fill her up?” He fists a more substantial amount of her hair. “Or maybe when I finally got my cock inside of you, and you were so happy. Squirming underneath me like a wet dream.”

Y/N can’t help but grab for his thighs, nails trying to dig in.

“Hands in your lap, darlin’.”

She pulls away regretfully.

“Was it when I fucked up into you, hard enough to force all those pretty sounds out? Or when I stretched over you and held your hands above your head? Had your body arching for me.”

Y/N is on fire. She must be. Her body is aflame and her insides have melted.

“I think…” Harry bends over some, trying to catch the eyes of the girl who is fighting every feeling. Her eyelids are shut, concealing the windows to her soul, and her brows are knitted together so tightly that she might induce a migraine. He smooths them out with a thumb before stroking over the delicate skin of her lids. “I think—look at me, darling—I think… it was when I had your stomach pressed into the mattress and a hand around your throat,” thick fingers squeeze her cheeks together with care, “and all you could do was lie there and take it. As I fucked you for the first time, just like you deserve.

“And after you came around me for the third time, I flipped you over so I could see your pretty face, and I came between your soft thighs, didn’t I, love? Did you want it inside of you? Warm, and sticky, and all because of you? Is that what you’d change?”

Y/N doesn’t actually think he would have come inside of her—he’d worn a condom, after all—but if the thought doesn’t have her thighs squeezing… “Wouldn't change,” she shakes her head. “Liked having you— liked it on…”

“Mm, I think you’d say that about everything. What do you know, after all?”

He’s right, and she hates the way his condescension has her wilting even further into the palm of his hand.

Y/N leans her face into Harry’s hand as he begins tracing over her features with a curious thumb, dedicating every line and mark to his memory. Then he’s crouching down with a little exhale and securing his hands under her armpits to pull her up with miniscule preamble. Y/N gasps, and her hands shoot out instinctively whilst Harry is lifting her up to his height. She grabs his shoulders and wraps her legs around his waist using muscle memory she didn’t realise she had.

Her knees sink into the rich green of his sofa as Harry sits down, gently encouraging her hands down from his shoulders and behind her back. A buzz zips through her chest from the feel of his warm body underneath her. Warm, and strong, and solid.

“Wanna hold these here, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his rose-tinted lips. “Gonna be a little rough with you. If you want to stop, you say Red. If you want to slow down—take a break—you say Yellow. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he says, eyes trailing down her neck, deciding what to do, “good,” repeated solely to himself.

Y/N feels the frustration of choosing to put on jeans this morning, mind spiralling at the thought of being on top of Harry with just a skirt to hide her modesty. Just a skirt that would so easily be slipped underneath by his hands, and then her underwear…

But Harry seems less concerned. His gaze is transfixed to her chest; to the intricate lace of her camisole, that—in contrast to her jeans—provides very easy access. Y/N’s breathing picks up at the very thought, ribs expanding and only drawing his eyes further. She’s tugged forward by a hand on her hip, searing through the fabric, and the other holding her hands. Tugged until Harry is resting his forehead on her sternum and inhaling deeply.

Her lungs are working at an extreme rate, and more of his nose presses into her with every breath. Y/N is so close to his hair in this position—just has to bend her face down a little and his musky scent fills her nostrils. It seems they both have similar ideas—breathing one another in—but Harry seems far more relaxed than the near shaking girl on top of him.

It only gets worse for her when he pushes his lips against the valley of her breasts—small, tender kisses that have Y/N’s breath hitching. The straps of her camisole want to fall down her shoulders in angelic swoops but her cardigan prohibits all movement. Suddenly it’s the heaviest and warmest piece of clothing she’s ever worn.

“Har—Sir,” she breathes, head tilting back on her shoulders. The caress of his breath on her body is immobilising, and he seems content in moving at a snail’s pace for his own enjoyment. Whether he gets the message or not is unclear, but regardless, Harry lets go of her hands just long enough to shuck the chunky cardigan down her arms and discard it beside them.

As soon as he tightens his grip around her wrists once again, the strain of her arms has her camisole straps slipping down the curves of her shoulders, like a waterfall of silk. The fabric is so light and thin that it pools underneath her breasts—the crooks of her elbows the only things keeping the straps suspended. And Harry’s immediate response suggests he’s somewhat of a starved individual, teeth digging into the top of the left cup of her bra and tugging it down with haste.

He takes her nipple into his mouth and Y/N is all gasps and bucks. The sensitivity of her skin and the rough suction of his lips, the flicking of his tongue and the grazing of his teeth. It’s deafening; the blood rushing in Y/N’s head, it’s near predisposing. The spit, and the hot exhales from his nose against her chest, the indentations his teeth leave behind when he pulls away to admire the wetness of her breast. But he goes back in—bites at her flesh—chews, and laves, and consumes her entirely.

Y/N’s cunt is pulsating. She is wet, and fervently hot, and the subtle rocking of her hips is ceased by a large palm over hip, which has her whining into the air.

“Stay still f’me,” he slurs into her skin, desperate fingers pulling her bra down further and watching to make sure it stays, before he starts on the other side of her chest. Her wrists are encircled behind her back, and Harry pushes her forward—into his mouth, as if he’s not already practically eating her. And maybe she can try her hardest not to squirm but all that energy has to go somewhere, and she’s panting now—whimpering all these sounds that she’s never heard herself make before—and Harry can surely feel the vigorous inflation and deflation of her lungs.

“Oh—oh, H—Sir, please.”

Please what? Stop? No. Keep torturing her breasts? Also no.

Harry hums against her, long and unwilling as his mouth leaves her with a wet smack. He admires her skin, eyes flitting up to see the dazed girl atop him.

“Don’t like it?” He puffs, inhaling deeply, beginning to dance a hand around her ribs.

“I do, I do,” Y/N breathes, eyes still closed. “Too h-hot.”

Harry frowns though she can’t see, before he’s unclasping her bra and pulling her camisole over her head—standing her up on jelly legs and pulling her jeans down. Sat on his lap once again, he tightens his grip around her wrists and curls his fingers around her throat.

“Can feel your heat, baby,” he looks down to where her clothed cunt rests just before his bulge. His still very clothed bulge. “Give me a kiss.” And she still feels exceptionally inexperienced in the whole department but her body surges forward, urged by the pressure against her pulse, as her lips meet his shiny ones.

This time, when Y/N’s hips start moving on their own accord, Harry doesn’t stop her—tugs her closer in fact. Right on top of where he’s warm, and hard. Their mouths part a centimetre, just enough to pant into one another at the feeling. Of his hand squeezing her throat, and pushing her arms into her back. Y/N doesn’t even notice when he lets go of her wrists—never daring to move them—as his palm comes down in an experimental slap to her arse.

It’s light; enough to not hurt but suggest his intentions. And when Y/N gasps and twitches on top of him, he gets the idea. “Is that nice?”

“Yes.”

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” she whimpers into his mouth, lips pasting to his cupid’s bow and falling away when he does it again. Hard enough to leave a tingle that spreads out to her centre and up her stomach.

“Unzip my trousers.”

There’s no hesitation, both his palms are holding her ass now, desperate to spread them apart but damned by the confines of her underwear. Y/N shakes a little but does what he says, exposing the hot pink of his boxers underneath—and the thick outline of his cock.

“Take me out, go on.” She meets his eyes—blown out and transfixed, mirroring her very own. “Take me out, Y/N,” he whispers, leaning closer to lick a stripe up the column of her throat, and then an open-mouthed kiss to her chin, and her mouth.

He’s heavy in her hand, and intimidatingly big. How did she ever fit this inside of her? But she feels the instinct to make him feel good. This was the one area she had experience in, afterall. The skin is so soft and all she has to do is spit down and watch as it drips from his head along his shaft. But Harry takes her hand instead and laves his tongue along her palm before guiding her down to wrap around him.

His breath hitches; their eyes don’t stray from one another’s. He holds her hand over him and starts to drag it up and down, his blinking lagging a little from the feel of her delicate fingers wriggling underneath his palm. It’s intense, and paralysingly slow—every second spent watching his face feels like sixty—and when she looks down, she feels herself clench around nothing at the sight of her smaller hand wrapped in his, and the way his cock looks between them. Red, and thick, and wet.

It must show on her face because Harry’s unwrapping her hand and reaching forward to press his fingers into the front of her underwear. “Put me in.”

“What? B-but I’m not… and you’re so…”

He nods, “I know. You can do it,” as he awkwardly fumbles for his wallet from his back pocket. Y/N’s heart jumps when he rips the condom open with his teeth—a true teenage fantasy—and slides it on with a swallowed grunt.

He tugs her gusset to the side, breaking strings of arousal and basking in the twitch of Y/N’s hips. She clumsily hovers over him, embarrassed as she holds onto his base. As she lowers down, Harry’s thumb finds her clit—swollen and hypersensitive—and she squeezes him reflexively. He groans, low and vibrating, content to roll her under his digit cruelly—distracting her from the attempt at swallowing him with composure.

Y/N whines as the thick head squeezes inside her tight hole, mouth ajar and eyes half-focused on the man who brings his shining thumb to his mouth and makes a show of relishing in the taste of her arousal.

“F-fuck,” the words force their way out of her shining mouth.

Harry rears a hand back and slaps her ass, harder than the other times, fingers staying on the skin to dig in and pull. “Don’t swear.” And Y/N doesn’t think he’s usually adverse to it but she’ll do whatever he asks of her right now.

“S-sorry, Sir,” she moans out as Harry sinks deeper and deeper inside. Maybe he should’ve stretched her out first but God if it isn’t the most blissful discomfort. That initial entrance—knowing what her body is accommodating for and how far he reaches inside of her most private place.

As soon as she’s seated on him, completely and utterly full, Harry confines her wrists once again as he sits up and encourages Y/N to lean into him. Her breasts squish into his shirt. His shirt. That he is still wearing. “Come on, baby. Tire yourself out.”

Exhaustion is already seeping into her bones but Harry’s voice croons into her ears so tenderly—it coats her skin in a sheen of glitter and pumps sparkling wine through her veins. She makes every effort in lifting up and sinking back down—in, albeit, slow and wobbly movements—but the concentration on her face is like a drug to Harry. It has him thumbing over her nipple and taking it into his mouth again, which only has Y/N stuttering and inevitably stopping. She pants, and wiggles, and whines, enough so to have Harry placing both palms underneath the seam of her underwear and gripping her bum like he’d wanted.

He squeezes and stretches to his heart’s desire, mouth still firmly attached to her breast, but his strong hold aiding Y/N in moving once more. She’s lifted up and down, and up and down—slow enough to feel every ridge of him opening her walls.

“M-my legs hurt. Sir.” Y/N wishes she were a gym fiend as she admits it.

“Do they, love?” He pulls back from her chest, discontent to stop nibbling her skin raw but her voice is oh, so fragile. He’ll take care of her like he promises all the time. “Lean your head on my shoulder—keep your arms where they are.”

When she doesn’t immediately listen, and looks up to his eyes with a silently begging expression, he cocks his eyebrow. “Can I f-feel you? Your skin, please, Sir.” He’d left his clothes on, somewhat intentionally, but he doesn’t feel so mean in this moment. A nod is all the encouragement she needs, as Y/N unbuttons his shirt with clumsy fingers, and pushes it off his shoulder to rest her cheek upon. Her arms go back behind her and her nose moves forward to press into his neck deliciously. He smells of allure.

Harry can’t help himself when he tears her underwear from her body. She’s too soft, and warm, and wet to simply entertain the idea of pulling out of her. And from the noise she makes—a surprised squeak but no beratement—and the clench around his cock, he can only assume she likes it. Likes the desperation, or the display of strength, or his pure animal brain—it doesn’t matter. Because Harry’s kneading her ass in heavy handfuls, and moving her faster and faster, and Y/N is flooding his neck in her warm, tight pants—sweet whines falling out of her mouth.

“Beg me to come,” he grunts, granting Y/N no kind of warning before his fingers dig in harder and his hips slam into her at a speed that has her lungs forcing out high-pitched squeals. The sounds are nasty, unmistakable and unexplainable. The slap of skin, the wetness between her thighs, the noises that leave both their lips. It’s raw, and scaldingly hot, and— and… she needs to rub her clit.

“I— Sir, I can’t—”

“No?” His thrusts don’t falter, not even once. She’s on her back in a second, and her wrists are trapped underneath her. He makes no move to readjust them, only stretches her knee to the side so it pushes into the back of the sofa before grabbing a throw pillow and stuffing it under her hips. “Come on, beg me, little doll,” his hand spans across her mound, thumb meeting her clit in a back-arching press. This, has her cunt tightening—pulsating, contracting, strangling his cock. And with the pillow angling her just right, Harry can feel himself underneath his palm; it drives him batty.

He fucks her into the sofa, hard and unrelenting, leaning over her to chew on her tits once more. It’s sweaty, and messy, and that only makes it hotter. “Beg, Y/N.” His thumb rubs faster, expelling the choked up cry from her throat. She’s so close, is writhing underneath him—fighting the rolling of her eyes into the back of her skull.

“Please! S-sir, I—”

“That’s it. Good girl letting me fuck you—your sopping cunt, baby. Beg better than that, come on.”

His words send her spiralling, orgasm racing up on her and she panics that she won’t be given permission before it happens. “Oh my god! Oh, pleasepleaseplease, Harry!— Sir, please l-let me, please.” It’s adorable, Harry finds, her minimisation of the English dictionary when she’s so bent out of shape. Her pleading is less begging and more repetition, but he’ll let it slide.

He’ll let it slide as he presses his thumb harder and leans back to watch as he murmurs something akin to the value of diamond. “Come. Fucking come f’me, darlin’. Look at you.”

Y/N can’t hear anything. Not now. All she needed was that first word of permission and she’s seeing stars. Spasming around him so tight that Harry’s own moans started flowing out, pace increasing as he rolls her clit under his thumb. “Fuuuck, there you are. Keep squeezing like that, there’s a good girl.”

It takes her a while to come down from, no surprise considering Harry is still pounding into her, and her whimpers echo his moans—desperate and unabashed, his lips red and brows tight. He looks so handsome. So beautiful above her with his flushed skin and his flexing muscles, unbuttoned shirt floating around him. Y/N’s not sure she’s ever felt so peaceful, in a dreamlike state in all her vulnerability. And she keeps contracting around him, like he asks—because when he groans like that, she’d have to be a sadist not to—and as his moans build up in pitch, and his eyes meet hers in frenzied pleasure, she’s sure she wants him to come more than she’s ever wanted her own orgasm in her life.

Harry surges forward, smearing his lips all over Y/N’s mouth. It’s messy, and uncoordinated, and his tongue is slicking her skin. But it’s the hottest kiss she’s ever had. And it feels so good when his groans hit a crescendo, and his hips stutter, and Y/N can feel the warmth of his spurts inside the condom. She whimpers against his open mouth, arms losing all feeling behind her back, but she doesn’t care because his eyelashes are brushing against her cheek and it’s the most intimate thing she’s ever felt.

They’re lethargic, Harry’s movements, and he’d like to be much more alert but his body is tingling and Y/N is looking up at him so trustingly—he wonders if she’s fallen into a stupor.

“Th-thank you, Sir.”

He strokes her hip bones, pulling out with a soft hiss. Y/N whines a little at the sensitivity.

“You can call me Harry again now, if you like, darlin’.” He leans down to kiss her forehead, consuming palms holding her cheeks.

She’s not really listening. “Mm, feels… feel kinda drunk.” She smiles, nose turning into his thumb. Harry gives her another kiss and pulls away, to knot the condom and collect her clothes. Minus the pair of panties that are no longer wearable. He doesn’t feel even an ounce of guilt.

He’ll make her some food, watch as she eats it with her eyes begging to close, and then let her sleep in his bed—hoping she’ll want him to stay.

Little does he know that Y/N will wake up in the middle of the night to raid his kitchen in a matter of ways that Harry will reprimand her for.

But for right now, he’ll keep her as happy as he possibly can.

#harry styles #harry styles one shots #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles imagines #mutually beneficial #writing #domrry #dom!harry #fanfiction

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thegreengnome · 10 months

Note

You could write something about aemond x wife pregnant reader. While she's asleep he starts talking to her belly and the baby starts kicking? :3

Of course! I hope you like it!

Hatchling

The mighty Targaryen prince had never felt so relaxed before, he dares not move for fear of ruining the peace. Here he lay his wife next to him, there legs entwined together. The fire in the chambers slowly dying down, the keep quiet as everyone slept and most importantly soft intake and releases of the women sleeping next to him lulling him into a sleep.

In their chambers and next to Y/N he was not a warrior, not the one-eyed prince that many feared, he was simply Aemond. The husband.

A shift in the bed next to him caught his attention. His wife lay asleep but no longer in content and peace. Her face had screwed up, a pout forming on her lips as she tried once again to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

Her growing belly brushing up against his side as she twists and turns. This pregnancy had come as a surprise to the couple. Having been married for two years the couple had not thought they would be blessed by the gods. Aemond had his love with him, if they could not add to their family, he knew they would be alright. They had each other, but the gods did decide to gift them a babe, a true blessing for the pair. A hatchling of their very own.

The sweet girl had recently felt the negative effects of this pregnancy. Her gowns had been too tight for the maids to fasten and the pains in her back had Y/N asking for daily rubs from her husband, the pregnancy had been hard on the first-time mother.

Aemond could recall the day Y/N had told him the news- the happy tears appearing in the crinkle of her eyes and the embrace between them that seemed to last a lifetime. It was a day that he would forever keep in his mind. A day his family became complete.

The shifting began again. The pout forming and the crease appearing between her brows. This would not do- Aemond could not lie in peace while his wife suffered.

Sliding is arm around Y/N’s back – drawing her body closer Aemond cupped the belly that was causing so much trouble. Soothing the taut skin by rubbing it back and forth. Aemond leans closer to his child, continuing his motions.

“Be calm ñuha riña (my child). You are disturbingmuña” The kick against his hand had him huffing out a laugh.

“We have waited so long for you”

Back and forth his hand went, never slowing the comforting rhythm.

“You are not even here and we love you so much” Aemond could imagine it now. Teaching his child to wield a blade, taking them out on Vhagar for daily flights. Reading them to sleep, and teaching them right from wrong.

Leaning further down towards the child “You have the most wonderful older cousins. Jaehaerys believes you to be a boy while Jaehaera thinks you to be a girl. Whatever you will be, you are a Targaryen, a member of a fierce and proud family, but most importantly you will be our child. Fiercely loved by your parents and the most special babe in this entire world”

The twists and turns had come to an end, the babe now still in their mother’s stomach. Their father quietly talked to them, informing the babe of their future life. Their mother is now awake. A twitch of her lips as she listened to her husband converse with their unborn babe.

#alicent hightower #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x you #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfic #aemond x y/n #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd daemon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

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immajustvibehere · 5 months

Text

Amidst a Crashing World (1/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: You had left the gang about a year ago. There were many reasons as to why, but that you had received a rather gruff rejection from the man you loved was definitely on that list. Now, Arthur appears in front of your little cabin with an interesting demand.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

Link to my Masterlist

1600 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

It had been a year since you had last seen him. He was one of the reasons why you had decided to leave the gang. Because it had become unbearable to be around the man you had feelings for. The man you had confessed those feelings to and the man who had rejected you. It had been an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Dutch had been talking about a bigger score for a while now and the mission had only been a few days away. You had approached Arthur who had been seated near a campfire with Hosea and Reverend, deep in a seemingly serious but one-sided conversation.

"May I talk to you for a moment?", you had pleaded. Your hands had been shaking. You had been aware: every score the boys went on held the possibility of never seeing them again. And you had felt brave that day. Brave enough to finally confess that you had feelings for this man. He was kind enough and caring towards you. He never was someone to express affection too openly so you hoped...that even if he did not feel entirely the same, he might be open to get to know you better and give you a chance.

"Sure", Arthur had grunted, a little groggily and stood up. You had walked a few steps away from Reverend and Hosea, just far enough to make give them the impression that this was supposed to be a private conversation. Quickly, but precisely and not without a certain shake in your voice, you let Arthur know that you liked him. More than the normal amount at least.

You peaked through your curtains to watch this very man dismount from his horse and caringly fix its reins next to the one of your horse, which was barely acknowledging the visitor.

For a moment, Arthur had just stared. Then he had shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with a warm but stifled chuckle escaping his throat.

"Yer joking, aren't ya?", he mumbled as he nervously peeked back to Hosea and Reverend, who hadn’t exactly given you attention during this ordeal. When Arthur had caught your dead-serious face and how you swallowed after he had said those words, he knew that you, in fact, hadn’t been joking.

"I- ehr...I don't see ya like that, I'm sorry", he had stumbled over his words. His voice hadn’t been upbeat or hopeful, not even apologetic or friendly. No, the longer you had turned those words over in your mind afterwards, you heard how bitter, how disappointed, and somewhat accusatory he sounded. He had turned around and had walked back to his log, shaking his head, chuckling coldly.

Arthur's hand plunged into his jacket, and he pulled out a wrinkly, yellowy paper that he unfolded. As he held the paper in one hand, a grin flitted across his face, before he took a breath and started loudly:

"I'm looking for the fierce, the ferocious....", Arthur stopped and plucked a ripe tomato from its stem. You had been growing this beautiful tomato plant right next to the gate that separated your garden from the path that travellers commonly used. But Arthur was the first one who had the audacity to help himself. Then he went on: "The downright awful degenerate y/n. Supposedly, she robbed a stagecoach and left the driver in a condition that left much to desire...She has fled to find refuge from her abhorrent, ginormous bounty of 15 proud dollars!"

Arthur had a shit-eating big grin on his face when you finally pushed the door to your little cabin open. He popped the tomato into his mouth, savouring the taste as he watched you step into the light and lean against the door frame.

"That you?", Arthur asked indistinctly with his mouth full, quick to catch some tomato juice with his sleeve as it escaped the corner of his mouth. He held up the bounty poster that showed the most unflattering sketch of your features that you had ever seen.

"I look myself in the mirror quite often, but I've never seen this creature staring back", you joked as you nodded at the sketch. You were still unsure what his sudden appearance at your doorstep was supposed to mean.

Arthur shrugged and sarcastically answered: "I really think they did ya justice. Have you seen the pictures going round of me?"

You had. They weren't nearly as bad as the one he held up of you. But they did paint him more cruel than he looked right now. Honestly, knowing him better, all you can see is an actually soft man which might look big and scary when he swings his gun around, but now, as he took his hat off, he looked harmless. The afternoon sun nearly blinded him as he looked at you, but he deemed the gesture necessary to be polite, apparently.

"Yer trying to take me in for a 15 dollar bounty?", you asked and crossed your arms.

"Don't want'a sound rude but that's barely worth it...", Arthur smiled, "No I ehrm...was close by. A farmer down that way told me you was living here. I helped him fix a wheel on his waggon."

"Sure...", you mumbled suspiciously. There was no way you would have naturally come up in this conversation.

"'s been a while...", Arthur commented.

"Yeah. More than a year. Took me this long to figure out how it'd bear fruit", you pointed at the tomato plant Arthur had stolen from.

Shamelessly, he plugged another one and ate it, "They're good."

"I know", you sighed. You had given up and moved aside to let the man into your cabin.

It was a humble little place. Just big enough to fit a table, three chairs, a bed, a stove and a cupboard. Arthur noticed the rifle that leaned next to the bed, the few books that were scattered on the table and finally his eyes fell on a couple of sketches you had pinned onto the wall. After leaving the gang, you had tried your luck with drawing. Yes, it was a way to remember Arthur, because though you haven't seen many of his drawings, you knew he sketched everything he laid his eyes on.

For a moment, you hoped that Arthur would comment on your sketches. There was one of a doe that you were particularly proud of, but Arthur just briefly scanned them before turning his attention back to you.

"Nice little cabin ya got here...killed the fella that lived in it before or...?", Arthur suggested, his eyes falling on a little hole in the roof that needed fixing and the bedframe which was uneven and brittle.

You almost laughed at the suggestion: "No. It belongs to an old lady who went to live with her sister in the city. She gave me the cabin to look out for, until her grandson is old enough to live in it."

"Oh", Arthur commented, fidgeting with his hat.

You had spent months trying to forget this man. You were sure you'd never see him again, not if you could have helped it. You were glad about leaving your affiliations with the van der Linde gang behind. However, this had never been the official deal. The deal had been that you could roam for a while, figure yourself out and then join back. You never did. And now you had a sour feeling as to why this man was currently scanning your backyard through the window.

"Why are you here?", you asked, your tone serious.

"It's good to see you again", Arthur light-heartedly said. It almost sounded like a joke.

"Arthur", you warned him.

"Lot has happened since you left...", Arthur said, still wandering around in this cabin as if he was scanning the small territory, "we lost some people in Blackwater...Mac and Davey...Jenny..."

You knew about Mac. It was reported in the newspaper, but when Arthur mentioned Jenny, your jaw dropped. You felt a sort of anger flare up. You had gotten along well with Jenny. She was a kind and funny girl and you had considered her a friend.

"How did- Why...How did this even happen?!", you grumbled, "Jenny wasn't someone who would be in the midst of a fight. Hell, she knew how to handle a gun, but-"

"I know", Arthur interrupted, "couple weeks ago we lost Sean, too."

"Why are you here, Arthur? And why are you telling me this?"

"Wanted to see how you've been doing...", he shrugged, but his demeanour changed when you opened a drawer. You didn't even need to pull out the gun before Arthur stopped with the sugarcoating.

"Dutch wants you back."

Hell, this didn't sound like a suggestion. It was more like a threat. Arthur was here to collect you. Not for a 15-dollar bounty, but for Dutch. Because he had lost too many people and now you needed to jump in. Also, every bit of hope you held close to your heart, that Arthur...that there was a tiny bit of him that wanted to see you. That he really wondered how you had been doing.

It died with those words. It stung.

"Get out", you demanded.

"Y/N-"

"Arthur, I'm not coming back."

"Dutch-"

"I don't care. I don't give a fuck what Dutch wants", you yelled, slowly pulling the gun out, "Honestly, you have some nerve showing up with this request."

Then, you had to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it and laugh because you were hurt. The laughter helped to supress the tears, for now.

"Ya ain't gonna shoot me, sweetheart", Arthur said knowingly, putting his hat back on and slowly backing out towards the door, arms still raised because he didn't want to give you the impression that he'd draw on you.

"Don't flatter yourself", you said, slowly walking towards him to make him move out of your house, "I wouldn't shoot your pretty face, but I can put holes in other parts of your body and it would hurt enough."

You felt bold, cocked the gun and aimed at his leg.

"Y/N..."

"Tell Dutch you didn't find me. Tell him I'm dead. Tell him I forced you to draw on me and you shot me...I honestly don't care. I'm not going back. I'm not...canon fodder for a cause I don't believe in anymore", you stated, your eyes fixed on Arthur. He might just notice that tears pricked your eyes, there was a hint of concern in his features.

When he opened his mouth, you were quick to interrupt him: "If you care for me just the tiniest fucking bit...yer gonna fuck off right now and not come back."

You thought about how he'd answer, 'I don't see ya like that', lasso you and drag you back into whatever hole the gang was hiding at the moment, but instead, he tipped his hat, turned around and mounted his horse.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Next chapter: here

I never have the nerve to keep a consistent taglist, but here are some tags for people who said they might be interested in that sort of story:

@pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @lonesome-ranger @twola @shiokitsune @hugthedragon @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463

If you want to be tagged, please comment under this post if you want to be included to the taglist for this story OR any fic I post in future.

Special thanks to @little-honeypie 'cause we've been cooking that story up together <3

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x femreader

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diejager · 5 months

Note

1: I love your blog so much you are awesome.

2: Can I be added to the cod tag lists?

3: Idea for venom-hunter fic: the boys don’t know venom auto-heals and they watch Hunter get like… shot or sm and freak out and it’s angsty but it’s ok bc they heal right away and it’s fluffy in the end (popped into my head and I wanted to share)

1: Hi Parker! I love you too☺️ 2: I’m sorry I didn’t see this before now, but of course! I added you.

What if Hunter was Venom? Pt.2

Pairing: Monster 141 + Horangi & König x reader

Cw: blood, injury, canon-typical violence, gutting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.3k

Price felt his age catch up to him when he watched an enemy unload his whole mag into your - Venom’s - chest, the dark skin rippling at the surface like water breaking with every drop. He knows that under the surface was your body, hidden under his mass and strength, but Price was still worried. How couldn’t he worry when he kept you so close to his heart?

Even after watching Venom rip apart the men who shot at him - you - spraying their guts around the area, blood painting over the grey asphalt, dripping down from the tip of his claws. Venom was a menace from close up as he was from afar, he could spot anyone from kilometres away as long as he had a clear view, Venom could hear so clearly, his ears much more attuned to your environment and danger.

You could easily be sent out alone in some situations, Venom coming in to help whenever he thought you were in danger, forcefully or not. They could hear the crackle over the coms, Gaz spotting your form jumping from one building to the other, swinging from tree to tree or rushing through the enemy line like a battering ram, something that König was extremely proud of seeing as a battering ram himself.

They learned from you that Venom feared fire, the flames would burn him, disintegrating to ash - it was a painful death - and loud sounds, high-pitched ringing that would make both you and him scream out in pain. Venom wouldn’t die from the loud sound itself, but every moment spent outside a compatible host was a second closer to dying. It was loud and painful, the pitch ringing in your heads until you completely separated, but even then, you’d still hear that incessant sound echoing in your head.

So there wasn’t much to be scared about, worry indeed, but never fear for your life when they had Venom to watch over you, he was fiercely protective of you, so much so that it rivalled their own. Other times, Price would put you in a squad of three or two men, making sure that you wouldn’t be put in a dangerous situation.

It worked for the most part an unknown contractor paid to hunt you down and get Venom to the rich scientist who was obsessed with the alien that he hosted and any other. They were taught the non-lethal way of neutralising Venom, to get both of you back to the labs to study. They would cut you open, probe your insides and possibly break you in ways that scared them, it forced Price to keep you beside Ghost or König at all times, two giant monsters scaring anything and everything around you. It would keep the threats away until they absolutely had to keep you safely hidden.

But it seemed that the PMC had found you before they could do anything, your scream piercing the field, a painful screech following yours. The ringing of what seemed like a high-frequency machine hurt their ears from afar, the painful sound made them curl inward, wincing with a loud pulse in their ears. No wonder Venom was deathly scared of high frequencies, it probably hurt both of you more than them from how close and how strong your hearing was.

Those who were able to, dropped what they were doing to reach you, alarm and fear wracking their minds. Gaz left his perch, flying in the open without any protection, an easy target for any snipers. Soap rushed towards you, hastily transformed with his body still steaming hot, his jaw snapping at everything. Alejandro and Rudy weren’t far behind, the nagual making his own path with Rudy following close behind him. Horangi tore his way beside König, his clothes drowning in blood, their bodies smelling strongly of ichor, a metallic smell. Price had to drop everything he was doing - transferring the encrypted intel from the database to the hard drive - to come to your aid, the only relief he had was the knowledge that Ghost was assigned to your side, your bodyguard.

When they reached you, they saw Ghost trying his best to take down as many people as he could that stood between him and your safety, and you - your situation looked dire - were still screaming, Venom’s black mass being slowly torn from you, throwing you left and right. It was chaotic, watching you sway around, hand clutching your head and face screwed in pain, even he seemed in pain. You and Venom were fundamentally connected, mind and body working as one, your cells sewed to his goop and his strength flowing in your blood.

In a frenzy, they fought to get to you, blood splattered and abdomens gutted, a stinging pain pulsing in their chest that only seemed to grow stronger with every second they heard you wail, choked sobs to cling onto the symbiote who made himself at home inside your body, to hold onto the creature you dubbed your own. Despite the semblance of success, they were panicking, booming orders shot across the field and over the heads of dying men, their shots were hastily landed and randomly aimed as if they were fresh-faced rookies rather than scarred and experienced mercenaries.

In the chaos of screams and shouts, Soap managed to destroy the machine, taking away the enemy’s only source of protection against Venom, but they couldn’t celebrate just yet, they had to finish this off before another echo was let out.

“Shoot them now!”

A booming shot followed closely after the order, a thick accented voice calling for whoever it was to shoot you down before you got away. You flinched back, curling forward in a coughing fit, sickly and wet coughs from your blood-filled lungs. You spat out red, tears rolling down your cheeks as you gasped for a breath, laboured and shallow breathing. You felt like you were drowning, dying by the one thing that kept you warm and alive, the life-giving and oxygen-rich ichor; it clogged up Soap and König’s nose, the retching of their throats and the heaviness in their stomach made them want to vomit, to force out the anxiety and terror in their bodies.

Little One, it was Venom, his voice laced with worry and exhaustion.

“Please, Venom,” you rasped, blood trickling down your chin as you clutched your open wound, fingers stained as red as your vest and jacket were.

Everyone watched Venom swallow you, darkness exploding from your back to wrap around you, covering you in layer upon layer of alien mass, forming a protective shield around you. Within seconds, venom came out screeching, large, white eyes squinted accusingly, jaws filled with long, serrated teeth opened threateningly and claw-tipped hands pointed at the ones who made you cry. He thrashed, breaking apart the many groups they formed and cutting through them ruthlessly, deaf to the silent screams and blind to the terror-filled look he received. Venom’s only priority was to exact revenge on the ones who hurt you and protect you.

He sunk back into you, letting you slump over, falling into Price’s arms, his worried mumbles about your injury and state filled your ears. He shook off your vest and patted you down, searching for the entry wound on your chest, hands moving frantically and ordering the others to hover around you, boxing you in for your own safety. He went on for a few, confusion growing more and more when he couldn’t find the bullet hole.

“ ‘m fine, Cap’n,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you slumped over him, thrusting him to keep you on your feet even after you slipped away to sleep off your exhaustion.

“You’re bleeding,” Price hissed, hands grasping your biceps. “Stay awake, love. We can’t have you falling asleep with this.”

“He healed me,” you grumbled, hurrying your head under Price’s chin, nosing at his warm skin for comfort. “Venom.”

He sighed, worry shifting off his shoulders, replacing it with relief. Knees bending, he picked you up, one hand under your knees and the other pressing you to his chest, rumbling with soft purrs to smooth the frown on your face. He nodded at the others, Rudy calling for exfil as they moved, covering you as much as they could at the LZ, waiting for the beating rotors of Nick’s favourite helicopter.

“Let’s go home.”

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A FRESH START [22]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: panic attack, trauma reaction, mentions of injuries, nonsexual nudity

Word Count: 5,935

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i was forced to shorten the taglist for the sake of my sanity. tumblr won't let me post with more than certain number. I think that's why I've had the hardest time with this shit. I made it a first come, first served so if your username got dropped I am so so so sorry but that's why.]

#22: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

"i find my place in between your arms, in between your tender kisses and soft whispers of 'it will be alright', in between the warmth of your embrace, and the scent of your neck, and the fierceness of your touch, i find my place lost inside your soul." -Hearts and Empires

Din was immensely proud of your skills as a physician. However, if you didn’t get your ass out of the damn medic tent he was going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you home forcibly. More than anything, you needed rest. He wasn’t able to convince you to stop working and because the medical aid had yet to arrive no one else sided with him on these matters. Karga had the nerve to tell him to calm down. Din had nearly wrung the High Magistrate’s neck.

He watched as you flittered around the medical tent aiding those who were injured alongside Aayla. Grogu had refused to leave your side, and that didn’t seem to bother you at all. Right now, as if you weren’t exhausted and barely standing, you had a sling wrapped around your chest which held Grogu against your back. Din could see the little boy resting his head against your back while rubbing your shoulder with his small hand. The sight warmed his heart and Din would be tempted to snap a picture to save if it weren’t for the state of your being. Your scrubs were still stained with blood and you had yet to clean your own wounds. It was stressing Din out to watch you working so hard when you were still in the state you were in.

While turning to see someone else, Din noticed you wavering on your feet. That was enough. He pushed forward and pressed through the injured crowd straight to you. “Hey.” You turned to meet his gaze. “It’s time to go home. You’re barely able to stand.”

“I can’t⏤”

“Ner kar’ta.” Din said firmly.

You sighed. “Alright. Fine.” Your shoulders sagged. “I guess I am a little tired.” Din shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips. Your small smile turned sheepish and Din dreaded whatever it was you were going to say next. “I need to make sure Nima has cleared the tarmac though so the medical team can park.”

“What?”

“We need to get⏤”

Din reached his gloved hands out to cup your face. At the contact, the rest of your words fell away. He leaned forward and spoke firmly. “We’re going home. You need to rest. Somebody⏤ Anybody else can do the rest of the work here.” He let his thumb trace your cheekbone. Din wished he could feel your skin against his. “Have you managed all the emergency cases?”

“I mean, yeah, but⏤”

“Then it’s time to take care of yourself.” Din finished.

Your lips pressed together and gave him a small nod. Din let out a breath of relief. Without wasting another moment, Din slipped his hand into yours and began to drag you away before someone could distract you with a new job. Just having your hand in his was a comfort he couldn’t even begin to describe. During his travels, he imagined what his reunion with you would look like often. Never did he imagine karking pirates would be involved, but this feeling in his chest he had anticipated. He knew being back by your side would feel like coming home. In fact, he may have underestimated how strongly the reunion would make him feel⏤ which was quite the feat considering how badly he craved it.

Din stepped into the shared home and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Frog. Frog.” Grogu chirped. He turned in time to see you untangling the boy from the sling to set on the ground. Grogu bounded further into the room probably to look for his stuffed toy.

Din focused back on you and his heart ached at the exhaustion painted on your face. Not wasting another moment, Din ripped off his gloves, tossing them aside, and reached out to cup your face. You let out a shuddering breath when his skin came in contact with his and Din felt that last tinge of stress leave his body. You were safe. It felt more real like this.

“Are you still allowed to take this off to kiss me?” You asked. Din couldn’t tell if your quiet voice came from a meekness or just the weariness of your last 24 hours.

“Yes.” Din chuckled. “We just need to be more careful.”

Technically speaking, it would be best if he didn’t take his helmet off anymore. Having you close your eyes was not the most ideal of plans. Accidents could happen, and more than anything it was just a loophole in his Creed. However, Din would give up vital organs before he gave up the gift and honor that was kissing you.

You closed your eyes and Din lifted one of his hands so he could lightly trace your bruised and dirty features. He hummed, “You’re injured and tired. We should take care of that first.”

“Literally nothing is more important to me right now than this.” You replied.

Din hardly needed further convincing. Removing his hands from your face had been painful⏤ even knowing that it was only for a moment so he could take his helmet off. Without the barrier between you and him, your injuries looked worse. The dark coloring of the bruising and the red of the blood was so much more prominent. Din could see bags under your eyes he hadn’t noticed before. With a quiet sigh, Din cupped your face once more.

“Ni ceta.” Din mumbled soft apologies. He leaned in to press his lips first against your left eyelid then your right. He continued to pepper soft kisses across your cheek until they found your lips. Din would be a liar if he said he hadn’t spent every single night while gone imagining what your lips would feel like on his return. And, just as with the reunion, his mental image did not do the moment justice. Din had pictured passion and heat, a battle between one another to devour the other first, but this kiss was not that.

This kiss was soft, tender, and patient.

Three things that Din never got to call his own, living a life of battle in armor of Beskar.

Your lower lip was slotted between both of his and as he gave it a gentle tug you released a shaky sigh. The sound struck him like a hot iron and Din couldn’t help but breathe you in. He pulled you closer so your body was flush with his, let the tip of his tongue trace the shape of your lip, as he deepened the kiss. Din allowed desperation to seep into his very touch. It couldn’t be helped. Din was desperate. He was desperate to feel your very alive heartbeat under his touch. He was desperate for the warmth you exuded. He was desperate to show you how thankful he was for your safety. He was desperate for you to know how proud he was of you. He was desperate for you to know how sorry he was for not being here.

Din was desperate, and it was all for you.

“Ni ceta, ner kar’ta.” Din spoke directly against your lips. Nothing short of the Maker would tear him away from you. Your own hands lifted and when he felt your fingers rake against his scalp, tug on his hair, Din’s repeated apology fell out in a groan. Din dragged his lips along your jawline, taking the time to leave a kiss on every inch. Eventually, his lips found your neck and he left kisses over the darkened bruise there. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” You replied in a hoarse whimper.

Din disagreed entirely. He should’ve been here. He never should have left your side. You flinched when his lips touched a spot more tender than the rest. It was barely noticeable. In fact, he wouldn’t have realized you flinched at all if it wasn’t for your body being pressed so tightly to his. It was enough to remind him that you still needed care and rest. Din pressed one last kiss against your lips⏤ innocent and loving. When he pulled back you let out a whine of complaints. Din reached down to grasp his helmet and pulled it back on.

He leaned forward to rest the beskar against your forehead and at the touch your eyes opened once more. More than anything, Din wanted to see the color of your eyes unhindered by his visor. Even with the helmet on he found your eyes mesmerizing but the visor always muted colors. It seemed fitting if he thought about it. Even with the loophole of taking his helmet off, with your eyes closed a part of you stayed hidden to him. Just as he was hidden to you.

“Let me take a look at your wounds.”

“No.” You said and Din furrowed his brow. As if reading his displeasure at the response, you shook your head and clarified. “I meant, not now. I want to take a shower first. I need to.”

Din found it hard to argue against that. You wouldn’t be able to fully relax until the day was washed from your skin. He nodded and walked you further into the house. He kept one hand on your lower back, and Din loved that you kept pace with him. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know where the bathroom was, but the action made it feel like you were just as desperate as he was to stay in the other’s presence.

Grogu waddled out of the hall, dragging his stuffed frog behind him, just as the two of them reached the mouth of the hallway. He held his hands up, chirping out a request to be held, and Din knelt down to scoop the boy up before you could. Grogu blew a raspberry at him. “No buir. Need Ma.”

“I know, ad’ika.” Din replied. “But Ma has to take a shower.”

Grogu grumbled in protest, but when you reached out to lovingly pet the boy’s head Grogu was marginally appeased. As you drifted to the bathroom, Din gathered a fresh towel for you and he also grabbed one of his shirts for you to change into. A decision made solely to relieve the itch in his brain that needed to see you safe in his bed wearing his clothes, but you accepted both items with a tired smile.

When the door shut and he heard the water kick on, Din blew out a breath of relief. He glanced down at Grogu who was still staring at the bathroom door. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it ad’ika?”

“Home with Ma.” Grogu nodded in agreement.

“Right.” Din chuckled. “We’re home with Ma.”

The hot water pelted your back and left your skin radiating heat. You had washed your hair, begun to wash your body, but midway through you dropped the bottle of soap. As you knelt down to pick it up, you suddenly had a flash of kneeling beside Wynn’s dead body. It sucked the air straight from your lungs and knocked you to your ass. Now you sat under the unrelenting stream of water with your legs curled up to your chest⏤ gasping in distress. Any air you did manage to fill your lungs with was uncomfortable and brought no relief. It felt like you were suffocating.

A choked sob left your lips as you buried your face in your arms as they rested atop your knees. No matter how much you tried to turn your tired mind off, it continued to ruminate on the decisions you made. If you hadn’t forced Wynn to leave, would she still be alive? She wanted to wait for help. You felt trapped in this memory. A loop of telling Wynn she needed to run followed by watching the life leave her eyes right in front of you. You could still feel the warmth of her hot blood while holding her wound⏤ still feel the snapping of her ribs during the course of your desperate CPR. All useless. You didn’t save her. You sent her to her death.

The sensation of having a towel thrown over your shoulders was startling. Your head snapped up to see Din knelt beside you. The shower head was off, Din’s gray pajama shirt plastered to his body on the side from water, and just behind him you could see the bathroom door hanging off it’s hinges.

“Ner kar’ta.” Din’s voice was rough. “Please talk to me.”

“Din?” You gasped. He had the large towel wrapped entirely around your body covering every inch of you. “What⏤ I don’t understand⏤”

“I heard something fall. I called out for you, over and over, but you didn’t respond.” Din replied. His voice took a sheepish tone. “I⏤I broke through the door.” He let his arms run over the towel covering your arms, giving them a squeeze. “Found you like this. Even when I turned the water off you still didn’t…”

It was the sight of your reflection in his visor and helmet that seemed to push you over your edge. Tears welled in your eyes and once the first ragged sob left your lips it was followed quickly by a string of others. Despite the fact that you were sitting on a tiled floor soaked with puddles, Din sat down right beside you and cautiously pulled you into his arms. You tucked yourself against his chest, and he fully enveloped you with his arms while resting his head on top of yours.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Din murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. Your sobs only interrupted by the sound of your lungs gasping for air. Din tightened his arms around you, a feat you didn’t know was possible, and you found comfort in his solid form. Din was here. Din made everything better. You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there, but eventually Din mumbled softly, “We need to get you dressed. You’ll be cold soon.” You didn’t tell him that you’d never feel cold in his hold. “Need to treat your wounds too.”

Din helped you stand. He cautiously led you out of the shower, arm around your torso, and he stopped you in front of the bathroom counter. “I’m going to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. Are you going to be alright?”

You nodded. Din paused, as if hesitant, before returning the nod and moving toward the door. He mumbled a curse under his breath, you could hear it, and then he grabbed the large chunks of the door that had broken off when he rammed it to set aside where nobody would trip over them. While he was out, you grabbed his shirt and tugged it on⏤ using the damp towel to try and pat dry the dripping ends of your hair. Din returned, his visor scanning your body, before he settled beside you again.

With a focused intensity, Din applied a bit of bacta to the wound at your hairline and then rubbed some of it into the bruise around your neck as well. In the midst of his work, you whispered, “Wynn is dead.” Din’s fingers paused in their motion, surprise reading in his frame, but he was quick to return his movements and stance back to baseline. “She’s dead and I didn’t tell anybody. I forgot to tell someone.” Tears returned to your eyes. “I just left her in the street, Din. I left her like she meant nothing.”

“Hey.” Din said firmly. “This was during the firefight, was it not?” You nodded in confirmation. “You had no choice, ner kar’ta. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was.” Your words fell out a pained whisper.

Din’s hands lifted to cradle your face and you leaned into his touch. It felt like he wanted to say something, but he paused. Instead, Din tangled his hand with yours and pulled you out of the bathroom. He didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate, to pull you into his room. The moment you entered you heard Grogu’s familiar snores and it was such a comforting sound to hear after weeks sleeping in silence that you nearly cried. Din pulled back the covers and helped you slide in.

Rather than follow you into bed, he took a step back and the look on your face must have been obvious enough that he reached out to caress your face. “I’m coming back. I need to change clothes.”

Your eyes focused on the large wet stains from where you had been curled up into him. Din crossed the room and your eyes widened and bit when he began to pull his shirt off. His movements were confident and it warmed your heart that he was comfortable enough with you to reveal himself like this. Your eyes trailed over the expanse of his muscular back⏤ admiring the rugged lines of his broad shoulders and the various scars that littered his skin. Din pulled a new shirt on and you expected him to come back. Instead, Din began to pull off his sweatpants. Slowly, you sat up, pulling the sheets closer to you, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trace the shape of his lower half. You were blatantly ogling this man in his boxer briefs as he tugged on a new pair of sweats. Before turning back around, you saw him pick up his vambrace, pressing a few buttons, before setting it down once more.

Din turned around, tying the strings at his waistband, and he chuckled. His voice came out as teasing and light hearted. Clearly trying to put you at ease. “Are you checking me out, ner kar’ta?”

“I missed you so much.” You replied. Too tired, physically and emotionally, to tease back the way that you wanted to. Instead, the truth tumbled out of your lips.

He came back around to the bed and slipped under the sheets. As Din’s arm wrapped around your waist, you let him pull you back into laying down. You shifted so your head rested on his chest and Din began to drag his knuckles up and down your spine. “I missed you too. Being away from you was unbearable for Grogu and I both.” Din hummed. “He tried to stay up for you, but passed out. Grogu didn’t sleep well last night. I think my anxiety kept him up.” Your hand was resting on his side⏤ fingers dragging up and down his ribs. You mumbled into his chest. Din’s hand, the one rubbing your back, trailed up to rake through your hair. “I want to talk.”

“About?” You mumbled.

“Ner kar’ta.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Din…”

“You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t have to tell me anything, but…” Din sighed, “I’d like to know. I want to help.” He massaged the back of your neck right where it met your skull and all your tension sat. A soft sigh left your body as you relaxed in his arms. “I sent Karga a message about Wynn. They’re going to find her. Put her to rest.” You buried your face down into his chest knowing your tears would dampen his new shirt all over again. “I just want to help.”

After a few moments of peaceful silence where you listened to Grogu’s snores and Din’s heartbeat, you turned so your face wasn’t pressed into his chest and you could speak. Hesitantly, you began to tell him what happened⏤ starting with the bombs that fell on Nevarro and ending with Paz leading you out of the burning city as you carried Elodie. The entire time Din didn’t speak. He’d mumble an acknowledgement or hum here and there, but he made no comment.

When you finished, Din finally spoke up, “Tell me why you said what you did. You said what happened to Wynn was your fault.”

“She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay hidden and wait for help.” You closed your eyes tightly as the memory of Wynn’s lifeless eyes assaulted you once more. “If I had listened to her she might be alive. Help did come. I⏤I should have been more patient.”

“Ner kar’ta, you made that decision based on the limited information you had. You didn’t know I was coming and bringing help. Where the three of you were hidden wasn’t safe. If one of the pirates did discover you, you’d be pinned down in a hole.” Din spoke with a firmness that left no room for argument. “In that moment, you made the best decision you could. You made the right decision.” He used the arm not around you to grasp your chin and tilt your head up so you were facing his visor. “Listen to me, ner kar’ta. That was not your fault. You did not take Wynn’s life, she gave it to save Elodie. Wynn is a hero. Don’t take that from her by shouldering needless blame.”

There was something about the way Din spoke that resonated with you. His words calmed the turmoil in your soul. Din could repeat the same sentiment that anyone else would speak, but when it came from his lips it soothed your wounds like a salve. He couldn’t heal everything, there was self reflection only you could puzzle through, but he was a hand to hold as you waded through the worst of it.

“Din…” You started. Before you finished your sentence, it occurred to you that the words you wanted to say were significant. You wanted to tell Din you loved him. That’s what you felt right now. It was overwhelming. It was all encompassing.

Din still had his hand at your chin and he let his large hand shift from your chin to your jaw. He held the side of your face and let his thumb trace patterns in your skin. “Yes, ner kar’ta?”

Saying those words felt like quite the leap. You were confident in the way you felt about him and how he felt about you, but there was a part of you that couldn’t quite push the words out. You were too mentally wiped out to process those thoughts right now. Not knowing how else to express how grateful you were for this man, you turned your face so you could press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

Din let out a content sigh and he shifted his body so you could rest more comfortably against him. He hummed and you heard the rumble of it in his chest. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He went back to soothingly dragging his fingers up and down your spine. “I’ll always be here.”

You let your eyes close and took a slow breath as Din’s warmth and the comforting smell of him lulled you into the best sleep you’ve gotten since Din and Grogu left.

Nevarro was in pieces. Rubble decorated the streets and buildings were in shambles. Despite how terrible it looked, Din couldn’t help but be proud of the citizens of the city he looked after. They were strong. Nevarro was already healing only days after the attack. Din walked down the street with Grogu in his arms. The boy was squirming, wanting to get down, but with the rubble and debris Din didn’t want him wandering around. As he walked down the street, every once in a while a person would pause to thank him for bringing help⏤ bringing the Mandalorians. Din would nod in response, but it would shoot a pang of guilt through his chest. He didn’t deserve thanks. He had left them after all.

Din’s steps slowed as he began to pass the school house. Outside of the building, a memorial had been set up for Wynn. Candles, flowers, and cards covered the front steps and Din found himself letting out a sigh. The school teacher was a hero. Din meant that seriously when he spoke to you. It hadn’t been your fault, absolutely not, and both you and Wynn were the reason Elodie was alive and well. Her and her parents were currently off world. The little girl needed more intensive care than could be provided here, but last Din heard the child was doing very well.

“Miss?” Grogu mumbled. Din recognized the title Grogu would call his teacher.

“Yes, ad’ika.” Din confirmed. Grogu’s ears wilted as he stared at the memorial. Din rubbed Grogu’s back and began to walk again with the goal to reach the clinic. You had left home early to go to work. You’d be there for any emergencies, per the norm, but you were also using today to see many of the people who were injured the day of for follow up. To ensure everyone was healing as they should. Din was of the opinion that you needed more rest, if not physical then mental, but trying to convince you of that was a near impossibility.

When Din reached the corner, Bo Katan pushed off a wall to join his pace. Her helmet was tucked under her arm. The Armorer had announced that the Mandalorians needed to come together rather than fall apart. It was a sentiment he could understand. Mayfeld had asked him about the helmet situation. Mandalorians coming together was a good idea, Din agreed, but coming to coincide with one another didn’t change the Creed he had dedicated himself to.

“Once this place gets cleaned up, I can see it being a nice place to live. To settle.” Bo hummed. Din nodded once, and she glanced his way. “I’m glad your partner is safe.”

“Thank you.” Din replied sincerely.

“There is something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“I figured.” He said. “Does this have anything to do with retaking Mandalore?”

Bo chuckled, “Good guess.”

“What about it?”

“Well,” Bo kept by his side, “Is there anything I can say that will convince you to come with me to reclaim my fleet from Axe Woves?”

Din didn’t pause even a beat when he answered. “No. There isn’t.”

Bo sighed in annoyance and Din briefly felt guilt at the waves of frustration wafting off of Bo’s tense frame. Half of him felt like it was his duty to help in any way to restore Mandalore, but the other half could not even begin to fathom leaving you again. It occurred to Din that this might be selfish of him. His people needed him, right? He locked his jaw at the thought.

“Your help would make this all go smoother, I think. We make a good team.” Bo said.

Din chuckled, “Did that hurt you to admit?”

“It did.” Bo smirked. “Which is why you should take it seriously.”

Din paused when the clinic came into view. He turned to face Bo and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. Retaking Mandalore is a noble endeavor. One I would be honored to help in.” He paused. “But my family is here. I got lucky during that attack. I... I almost lost her.”

“I understand that.” Bo replied. “I know the weight of what I’m asking you, Djarin. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

Din glanced back to the clinic and did a double take when he saw you coming out. A smile began to form on his features, but it fell when he watched Paz walk out behind her with Ragnar by his side. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were wearing your white coat, a look Din truly loved on you, and Paz was chatting with you about something. Something that made you laugh in response. Since when was Paz funny?

“Didn’t know you were the jealous kind, Djarin.” Bo chuckled.

Din snapped a glare at her. “I’m not jealous.”

“It’s all over your face.”

“I’m wearing a helmet.”

“Yet somehow I still know it is.”

Din grunted in mild annoyance. He wasn’t jealous. Per say. It was just like with Vanth. Din was confident enough in his relationship with you, even as undefined as it currently was, that he wasn’t worried about someone sweeping you away. Din just had a bad habit of accidentally letting his possessive nature show and there was something about seeing his brother flirt with you that stirred him into wanting to fight.

Both you and Paz glanced down at Ragnar who must have been speaking and you set a hand on the boy’s shoulder with a smile.

“Hm. They’d make a cute family.” Bo teased.

“Stop.” Din snapped.

He was caught off guard when Grogu jumped out of his arms. Him and Bo quickly followed after the boy who was in a mad rush toward you. Din watched as his son shoved past Ragnar, making the boy stumble enough that Din had a feeling the Force was involved, before leaping into your arms.

“Oh, hey, baby.” You cooed.

“Ma. My Ma.” Grogu cuddled into your arms while shooting Ragnar a glare.

Bo glanced at Din. “Aw. Like father, like son.”

Din wished he could take his helmet off just so Bo could see the full weight of the glare he currently wore. He continued forward until your eyes shot to him and the bright smile that filled your features just from spotting him.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked.

“Just checking in on you.” Din replied. Bo cleared her throat and Din sighed before nodding his head toward the woman standing beside him. “This is Bo Katan Kryze. Bo, this is Soran.”

You held your hand out to shake Bo’s hand and the red headed woman returned the greeting. Paz let one of his large hands settle on your shoulder and Din felt himself bristle at the motion. His older brother chuckled. “No need to worry. Wero’ika is doing more than fine.”

“Yeah, Paz brought me a late breakfast.” You chirped.

Yeah, okay, Din was going to murder him.

“Oh, hang on,” You glanced over your shoulder, “I see a problem patient walking in. I’m not gonna subject Aayla to that.”

Din nodded once and you shot Bo and Paz a smile, squeezing Ragnar’s shoulder as well despite Grogu’s complaints, and then you turned to leave. As soon as you were inside the clinic, Din turned to Paz with a grunt. “Wero’ika? What the kriff is that?”

“A nickname, Djarin.”

“Mir’sheb.” Din snarled and Paz laughed in response. Ragnar tugged on his father’s arm before pointing off to the side. Paz nodded, telling him to be cautious, before the boy ran off to play with a group of kids down the street.

Bo chuckled. “I didn’t realize this was the beginning of a love triangle. Interesting.”

“It isn’t.” Din said.

Paz tilted his head and crossed his arms. “I’m unaware of Soran being in possession of a token of intention.”

“I’m working on it.” Din said through clenched teeth.

“Perhaps, I’ll work on it faster.”

Din knew Paz was just trying to get under his skin. Part of his frustration was the fact that it was working. His hands drifted to rest on his hips as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Paz was smug. Din had known him long enough to recognize the set of his shoulders.

“I’m⏤” Din began then cleared his throat. “I’m giving her time.”

“You’re wasting her time.” Paz argued with a chuckle. “Wero’ika⏤”

“Don’t call her that like you know her.” Din cut in. “A lot just happened. I’m not going to rush her into anything.”

He glanced from Paz to Bo then back to Paz. Din gave the man a gruff good-bye before pushing past the two of them to head into the clinic. He greeted Miriam at the front desk. Before he could cross the threshold into the main room, the young woman caught his attention and let him know that you were down the hall instead. Din furrowed his brow in confusion, but walked down to find you sitting in the break room snipping the sutures off a patient’s wound.

“Marshal.” The patient greeted with a nod that Din returned.

Grogu was playing with a latex glove on the counter while you worked. You shot him a smile before focusing back on your work. Din settled beside his son, leaning against the counter, and just admired you with a sense of calm. He wondered if Paz was right. Not a line he’d ever say out loud, but Din wondered if he was just finding another excuse to hide behind. He wasn’t sure what he was so afraid of. You’ve made your interest in him very clear, the two of you shared a bond like he’d never experienced before, but still he hesitated.

“Alright, it looks good. No need to restrict yourself, but if it starts bothering you again just let me know.” You smiled. The patient thanked you, gave him a final good-bye, then left. You wandered over to where he stood with Grogu and began to wash your hands in the sink. “Hey, so your brother seems cool.”

Din grunted. “Who Paz?”

“Yeah.” You turned the faucet off and grabbed a few paper towels. “I thought he might not like me because I yelled at him during the battle.” Din’s eyes widened. He’d have to ask about that. “But instead I think I accidentally earned his respect? Also, what does ‘wero’ika’ mean?”

Din chuckled. “Little Problem.”

Your jaw fell open. “He’s been calling me a little problem this entire time?” Din nodded. “Son of a bitch. I’m gonna need you to teach me something amusing and mildly rude to call him in return.”

“Oh, I can think of some names for him.” Din replied. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something, but don’t feel any pressure with this, alright?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. Your eyes briefly glanced at Grogu and you shot your hand out to snatch the latex glove from Grogu’s mouth and wagged a finger at him. “I left to redeem myself. To restore my Creed with the plans to…” Din shifted awkwardly. “To court you.” The corner of your lips curled up. “I know a lot has happened recently, so again there is no pressure here, but I wanted to…make my intentions known.”

You reached out and wrapped your hand above his elbow, between his armor plates, and gave it a small squeeze. “Din, I appreciate your patience and concern, but I⏤ I want this. I want you.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “So, just tell me how we do this. How does Mandalorian courting work? Do I sign on the dotted line or…?”

Din laughed, in part due to relief, “No. Nothing like that. I have…” He reached to the back of his belt to unhook the blade and sheath that was once his. Din brought it around to hold out to you and you stared at the blade curiously. “In Mandalorian custom, a token of intention is given to the person being courted and to accept it means accepting those advances.” Din cleared his throat again. Maker, his mouth was dry. “Tokens are usually a weapon with the person’s signet on it.”

He pulled the blade out of the sheath enough that you were able to see the mudhorn etched into the blade’s side. Din tucked the blade back into the sheath and gave you a small nod. With a bright smile, you took the blade from his hands and he felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest watching you run your finger against the mudhorn.

You held the blade against your chest and nodded. “I accept, Mandalorian.”

Grogu began to clap his hands together and you broke out into laughter that relaxed every single bone and muscle in his body. The only regret Din had was not doing this at home where he could pull his helmet off and kiss you.

mando'a translations:

ni ceta: sorry wero'ika: little problem ner kar'ta: my heart mir'sheb: smartass

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #a fresh start #female reader #domestic bliss!din djarin

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sage-nebula · 3 months

Text

Penny is a genius.

Not a genius in all things, mind. Her strengths mostly lie in computers and strategy. But an idea starts bubbling in her mind on the flight to Kitakami, and by the time they've returned safely to Paldea she realizes exactly what she has to do, and exactly why it's the most brilliant plan anyone has ever thought of. That night, tucked into her desk chair and surrounded by her beloved veevees, Penny composes an email.

"Dad,

I want to tell you about my friend Arven."

- - -

It takes less than twelve hours for the cafeteria doors to be thrown open with such gusto that they slam back against the wall. Flatware clatters to the tables. Students drop their bowls in shock. A pawmi falls face first into a pot of soup. And Penny's father, Peony, stands proud in the doorway, scanning the stunned student body with a fierce look of concentration, while Penny's older sister Peonia hangs behind him with her head in her hands.

Seated in the back of the cafeteria with a bowl of half-soggy cereal, Penny draws her hood up over her head and pulls the strings tight.

"There he is!" Peony booms, and Penny peeks through the hole in her hood to see that he's pointing at Arven, whose mouth is still agape as his half eaten breakfast sandwich lies forgotten on his plate. A wide smile breaks over Peony's face as he strides across the cafeteria, all eyes following him as he makes his way across. "Ven, my boy! I've been lookin' all over for you!"

"Uh, what? Why? Who are you?" Arven starts to stand as if to run, but before he can Peony slings an arm around his shoulders so they can sit back down together.

"Name's Peony! My darling Pen-Pen told me all about you. And from what I hear, it sounds to me like you could use an ultra-mega-fun adven-tour extravaganza!"

"'Pen-Pen'? Wait, do you mean—?" Arven looks at Penny across the room, who begins hastily shoving soggy cereal into her mouth.

"I've got it all planned. Camping, cookouts, the works! We're going to have a blast, my boy—I ultra-mega guarantee it!"

"So," Peonia says as she slides into the chair next to Penny, "what exactly did this Arven bloke do to you to make you sic Dad on him?"

Penny rolls her eyes. "He didn't do anything. He needs this—in a good way. His situation's completely different from our one; his parents were never around."

Peonia snorts. "Lucky him."

"Not as much as you might think." Penny looks across the cafeteria again. Arven still looks confused and nervous, but he's starting to smile a little; her dad's corny "adven-tour" must be sounding pretty good to him. "I think he and Dad will get on all right."

"Well, so much the better if it gets Dad out of our hair a bit."

"Exactly."

"Ha!" Peonia grins, and elbows Penny in the side. "I knew this wasn't all altruism. You are taking the piss, aren't you?"

"I'm not. Arven really does need this. It just also helps us. Plans can accomplish two things." Penny stands up, and swipes her bowl from the table as her father pulls out a map to show Arven. "Now come on. Let's escape while Dad's distracted."

#pokemon #pokemon sv #pkmn sv #pkmn sv spoilers #trainer penny #team star penny #trainer peony #trainer arven #trainer peonia #fic fix #i imagine after Penny tells Peony that Arven's parents abandoned him it's like #Peony: ''I'm adopting a third child''#Arven: ''Really? who?''#Peony: ''You. Sign here.''

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ghostlykeyes · 5 months

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Hi, love your writing! Could I perhaps get some headcanons of Hearsteel with a (GN) tattoo artist partner? I'm a tattoo artist (apprentice) myself, and very curious. Thanks! 💕

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HEARTSTEEL /TATTOO ARTIST READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TW's ♡ I did Sett, Yone, and Kayn since they are the only HS members I'm writing for right now. ♡ Anon!! I would love to see some of your work sometime if you're comfortable sharing !! <3

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KAYN

Inspired by your art, Kayn buys a shitty tattoo gun off Amazon and messes around with it. He's not serious about tattooing, not really, but he thinks it's super cool that you do it. And, like anything he thinks is cool, he wants to try his own hand at it. (Plus, he wants to impress you. Oh, he may act like the picture of Rhaast he inked into the top-right edge of some practice skin is no big deal, but he actually spent like four hours on it and inside he's just screaming for you to compliment it.)

Protect your practice skin fiercely, because Kayn will absolutely nab some if he's bored. It's not uncommon to pull out a rubber sheet of practice skin and find scratchy sketches of demon masks and glowing eyes.

Kayn lets you tattoo him, as long as he gets to pick the design. He assures you he'll sit well, but it's a lie. He's a squirmy subject. Not because of the pain, mind you—he doesn't care about that. No, he's fidgety at the best of times, and with you so close to him, with you breath and your hands sending tingly heat across his skin? How is he supposed to keep still? Threatening you'll never kiss him again if he doesn't chill the fuck out might do the trick, though. Contemplating a life without good-morning kisses has him doing his damndest to sit still and let you do your work.

While Kayn likes all of your work, he's especially fond of the dark, the creepy, and the ultra-stylized. The more morbid drawings fit his bad-boy image, and the stylized ones? He respects innovation in all its forms, and he loves to see your artistic boldness so plainly expressed.

Kayn often sends you pictures of graffiti that he's proud of. In truth, he does it more for the property damage than artistic expression—but that's besides the point. He's picked up some skills along the way and of course he's going to use them to impress you.

If you ever, ever have a problem client, Kayn will explode in their face. Expect loud words, shoving, maybe a punch or two getting thrown. And if you don't want him exhibiting that kind of behavior in your shop? Well, fine, he can play nice. Just don't be surprised if you find out your little problem client finds themselves with "DUMB FUCKING CUNT" keyed into their car door. Kayn denies any and all knowledge of doing this. "Must've been Rhaast," he claims, but you're not so sure. Either way, it's a warning signal for your future clients to behave.

SETT

After you're sore from a long day shrimp-hunched over someone's leg, you don't even have to ask Sett for a massage. He already knows you're cramping up and he knows just how to make his fingers work. "Lay down," he tells you, and waits for you to get comfy before straddling your back. "Hold still, 'kay? I'm gonna take care of you, don't even worry 'bout it." His strong fingers gently rub at the knots winding up and down your spine, and he smooths the pain from your muscles. And this isn't some five-minutes-and-done back rub, either— he's committed to getting you right. Chat about your day, ask about his. He'll be up there for as long as you need.

Even if he's not interested in getting tattoos yet, Sett still loves your art, and he's willing to commit to something a little less permanent. Any time he's about to leave on tour and won't see you for a few weeks, he asks you to Sharpie a design on him. Whatever you want, wherever you want (just try not to abuse the privilege—he will never forgive you if you draw something embarrassing on his pecs the night before a huge show). He thinks it's sweet to have that little reminder of you etched on his skin. Sett will send you periodic updates of your sketch. If it's holding up well, expect to witness Sett twisting around awkwardly to show you in his daily post-gym selfie. When it's gone? He sends you a photo of blank skin, with a solemn text: "he's dead :(" . Don't worry about the untimely demise of this picture, though—you can draw him another as soon as he gets home!

Sett keeps some of his favorite flash designs of yours framed in his room.

It doesn't matter that he doesn't have any tattoos—if you or your shop sells t-shirts, Sett will wear them, and he'll do it proudly. He loves to represent you. All someone has to do is ask about it and it'll send him on a ten-minute (minimum) rant about his kickass tattoo artist partner, how talented and awesome they are. If you don't have a sleeveless option, though, don't be surprised if the sleeves "mysteriously" disappear.

YONE

Yone is interested in getting some traditional Japanese work done, but not for some time yet. Just know that whenever he's ready to ink up, if you're willing to tattoo in that style, you've got a client for at least a full sleeve, if not two. And when the day comes? Oh, Yone sits like a dream. He's the client from heaven, barely flinching and only taking breaks when you need a second to stretch. It's a bit difficult to convince him to put down his work, though, so be prepared to listen to Yone building some song beats with his free hand while you're buzzing along his other arm.

You both have rather demanding jobs and schedules, but Yone enjoys your quiet moments working together. He plugs away at his music while nearby, you finalize designs for clients and work on new flash pieces. Whenever he needs a break, he comes over and tenderly rubs your shoulders. Yone watches you work, occasionally breaking the silence to ask about certain design choices or what kind of client this tattoo is for. Watching you draw gives him a sense of peace.

Since he knows you work long hours, Yone always gets you a drink on his morning iced coffee run. He gets you lunch sometimes, too, if he knows you'll be spending the day in one long session and might not want to leave the shop. Yone knows what it's like to get lost in your work better than anyone, but he wants to make sure that even if you're in the zone, you've got something to drink and a bite to eat nearby. Now, if only you could get him to take care of himself the same way...

Dating Yone brings you a lot of new clients. Even though he left the mainstream music industry some time ago, he's still got friends within it. If anyone asks him for advice on where to go, of course he recommends you, which means you get your fair share of music artists coming to your chair. Of course, they always tip fabulously (they risk Yone's wrath if they don't).

Yone comes to you for advice on a lot of Heartsteel's artistic visuals. Their loud, messy, brash style meshes well with tattoo aesthetics, so he likes to run creative choices by you before implementing them. He also asks you to design some merchandise, if you're okay with doing that. Whatever you come up with, the guys absolutely love. Consider yourself the creative lead for all future merch endeavors.

#heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel kayn #kayn x reader #kayn/reader #sheida kayn #heartsteel #heartsteel sett #sett x reader #sett/reader #sett #yone x reader #heartsteel yone #yone/reader

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livsoulsecrets · 3 months

Text

I just finished reading Nando’s book about his journey in the Andes and I highly recommend it for its honest retelling of those 72 days, and his personal experience dealing with them.

I wanted to share some quotes that truly made me appreciate his and Roberto’s friendship even more. He spares no words to define Roberto’s stubborn, competent and unique personality and that’s how you see they’re truly brothers.

“After seeing how Arturo and Rafael suffered at night as they lay on the floor of the plane (and bellowing at them fiercely to stop their pathetic moaning), Roberto spent hours the next morning fashioning the swinging hammocks that gave those two injured boys some relief from their pain. It was not compassion, exactly, that spurred him to do these things, it was more a sense of duty. He knew his gifts and abilities, and it simply made sense to him to do what he knew no one else could do.”

“But more than anything I wanted him with me simply because he was Roberto, the most determined and strong-willed person I had ever known. If there was anyone in our group who could stand up to the Andes through sheer stubbornness alone, Roberto was the one. ”

“Roberto was Roberto, on the field or off, and even in the middle of a hard-fought match, he refused to be told what to do.”

It reassured me that Roberto was becoming his grumbling self again.

“Roberto,” I said, “can you imagine how beautiful this would be if we were not dead men?” I felt his hand wrap around mine. He was the only person who understood the magnitude of what we had done and of what we still had to do. I knew he was as frightened as I was, but I drew strength from our closeness. We were bonded now like brothers. We made each other better men.”

“Roberto stood beside me. I saw the fear in his eyes, but I also saw the courage, and I instantly forgave him all the weeks of arrogance and bullheadedness. […]

Roberto nodded. “You and I are friends, Nando,” he said. “We have been through so much. Now let’s go die together.”

“He was forcing himself forward now through stubbornness and the sheer power of his will. As I watched him, I knew I had been right in choosing him as my traveling companion.”

“But no one has been a better brother to me than Roberto Canessa, my partner in that long trek through the Andes.”

“In that moment, neither of us trusted that we had any kind of future, but we did, and more than thirty years later I am proud to say that I am still best friends with Roberto, who has only grown more resourceful, more confident, and, yes, more hardheaded with the passage of time.”

I tease him mercilessly about his ego, but I would not have him any other way.

#miracle in the andes #nando parrado #roberto canessa #society of the snow #la sociedad de la nieve #Nando and Roberto

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nova--spark · 5 months

Text

TFP: TIMESKIP | RID15 AU

Set 3 Years Post Predacons Rising & 1 Month post RID15 Finale [A Personal Rewrite/AU Of the TFP Kids Post TFP/RID]

Jasper, Nevada has become a quiet place for Jack, Miko and Rafael after their final goodbye with team Prime, and with Ratchet, when word that the Medic was needed reached their comms.

For the next 3 years, it was relative radio silence. No news from Cybertron, though they tried to reach out. They sent so many transmissions to their friends, yet not a single one returned to them.

Almost as if something blocked them from them, like something didn't want them in contact.

So, in the absence of their friends, their robotic family they had loved so much, the trio of kids put their all into making them proud.

They spent every day they could at Hangar E, and every year, on the anniversary of their departure, they would visit the old Outpost Omega-1.

They would hold hope for their friends to reach out, someday.

They had to...right?

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Miko dove head first into combat training, thanks to some strings pulled by Agent Fowler. When she wasn't sparring on a mat with her teachers, she was in the hangar, cheered on by Raf and Jack as she learned to translate those moves into the Apex Armor.

After some convincing too, of her parents when she turned 18, and some more strings pulled by Fowler, Miko made the base her home, and lived in Jasper full time. She'd even had her cats brought over from Japan, a fact that made her stay in the hangar less lonely, though she'd spent many dinners at Raf and Jack's homes regardless.

She'd trained her abilities in battle to a fine tuned machine, hoping for the chance to make Bulkhead proud when he walked through the groundbridge someday. Even took to a video diary, to catch him up on everything that had happened since they'd left Earth.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Rafael excelled in his studies to little surprise of many of the others in his presence. The young boy seemed to have matured overnight, and after a letter from Fowler to some colleagues in some colleges, Raf was skipped up a few grades, and was even taking some college courses online, to further his computing knowhow.

Taking up robotics as a hobby mostly, Rafael upkept the remaining Cybertronian tech left by their robotic team members. He remembered every lesson from Ratchet, and from the many times he also tried to help with Bee's voice box, so it was of little surprise to the team when Raf not only upkept but upgraded their base's tech. No better wifi could be found in Jasper, and access to every show they wanted was at their fingertips.

Still, Raf missed Bee, especially after seeing every transmission they sent go unanswered. His best friend had promised to visit, to write them back, call...had...he forgotten them?

He hoped not. Raf could never forget the scout, the one who'd help Raf find his own voice, among the chaos of his own home and family life.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Jack changed the most and the least at the same time. He was still a gentle and quiet soul, but he was fiercely protective now, of Miko and Raf. He dove into his studies, and even skipped a grade, to the surprise of his mother. Studying under her even, Jack learned medical care for his loved ones behalf, especially with all the bruises Miko returned with after her sparring lessons. He joined, once in a while, when he had the energy to, but his energy had shifted to making sure both of his teammates were ok. For his 18th birthday, his mother surprised him with a real motorcycle of his own, after seeing how much he missed Arcee and their rides around Jasper. And Agent Fowler, who had begun dating June at this point, helped hook up Jack with a job alongside him, mainly harmless paperwork, but it would pay better than slinging burgers at KO Drive Inn did, which he appreciated.

His free time was often spent fixing up his bike, and riding out far, along the routes him and Arcee would take. He really hoped their messages would reach them someday.

-0-0-0-0-0-0

Added Notes

Takes place 1yr after the ending of RID15/it's finale

June and Fowler got married by the time Jack is 19, which Jack actually was happy about, even if it shocked him a good bit at the start that they did begin to date.

Rafael has been checking every cryptid sighting website he used to, searching for any hint that Team Prime has come back.

Knockout has been, unbeknownst to Cybertronians and humans alike, been sneaking to Earth via rogue groundbridge of his own. It was where he lost Breakdown, and he continues to race still there [Yes this is bc of RID's use of his car model]

The kids came into contact with the Rescue Bots at some point, and they too have had issues contacting Cybertron, something that they tried to work on together but it did little in the end.

The 'Autobot' High Council had put a ban on travel to Earth, and had erased the coordinates from most databanks, as well as disrupting transmission from the kids to team Prime.

Crown City is located California for this AU

Outpost Omega-1 has been abandoned yes,the kids mainly use Hangar E, but regularly visit the old base since it's destruction.

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curi0us-gh0st · 5 months

Note

Hi! May I please request dating headcanons (sfw and nsfw) for Choi Mujin and Gangjae (separately) with a female reader who is not in a gang but works as a office worker? Thank you ❤️

Love in the Office (Choi Mujin x Do Gangjae)

pairings: Choi Mujin x Fem!Reader!Secretary, Do Gangjae x Fem!Reader!Secretary

word count: 0.8k

genre: fluffy, smut

warnings: voyeurism, fuck in anger, protuberance, blowjob (let me know if something went unnoticed)

a/n: I know it took me a while, so I was without internet and had some delays, I'm writing the other requests, sorry for the delay!

Choi Mujin

★ When you walked into the office to be his secretary, you didn't know that he was a mobster who had been wanted for years, that's for sure.

★ You were so polite and kind to everyone in the company that some even felt bad about you working for them in such a violent industry.

★ Mujin was proud of how you decorated his favorite cafe, how he liked things and organized his appointment schedule.

★ He also felt a little jealous seeing some of your boys asking you out or singing you, of course, in those tight skirts you wore exposing your legs so wonderful and your blouses tight or almost transparent that there was no drool on your breasts.

★ When one day, after a fight, he arrived furious, hurt and frustrated, opening the doors violently and cursing God and the world. His eyes fell on her gentle and calm being sitting in his chair while delegating some activities, looking at him shocked by the sight of his injured boss, jumping to help him.

★ Mincing no words, he grabbed his face, kissing him fiercely, waiting for you to fight but you didn't, just melting into the kiss, blushing when he pulled away with a smug smile on his face. He didn't care about his security guard seeing them, just pushing you against the table to see under your skirt.

★ He pushed your chest against the table, lifting your skirt, revealing your pert ass and a stain on your panties, mocking him for not even touching you yet and you're wet for him; He runs his fingers over your panties, teasing you until you moan and ask for more.

★ He ripped your panties off, throwing them in some corner of your own office and taking his big, thick dick out, spraying pre cum, teasing your slobbery entrance until he completely shoved his dick inside you and pounded into you.

★ Him hitting you so deep, pulling your neck to rest against his chest so he could rip off your formal blouse and expose your breasts, pinching and pulling, until they were red and sensitive; Moving one of his hands down to his stomach, a small bulge could be seen in the area.

★ He kissed your neck and shoulders, marking you as his and his alone, making you squirt as he shot jets of cum inside you. In the end, you were destroyed by him, just being used to relieve your stress, there would be times when he would be romantic, but right now, that's not the case. ^^

Do Gangjae

★ We all know how Gangjae is, presumptuous, arrogant and envious. He knew he couldn't touch his boss's secretary, because she was his daughter and maybe whoever touched her would die as soon as she did, but for him, the limit is the sky.

★ He sang to you every time he saw you, asked you out and even gave you some gifts, which certainly made you a blushing and grateful mess.

★ He even left notes when he passed by her table, saying how hot and provocative she looked in those tight formal clothes.

★ When he had the opportunity to be alone with you, he liked to touch your shoulders, waist and chin, complimenting you, flirting and even asking you about what he was doing.

★ That was until he chased you while you were going to the file room, the tiny hallways full of shelves of company files and documents. You were startled when you saw him standing there when you were wanting to leave, a smile plastering his face before he kissed you, teasingly as he said, “I knew you were crazy about this, me too.”

★ He pinned you to one of the shelves, kissing you fiercely, licking your lips to enter with his tongue making you moan with the friction. He walked away, panting while smiling, making you kneel.

★ Caressing your pretty face, your teary eyes and red lips, as he unzipped your pants, making his dick pop out hitting your cheek, him laughing as he rubbed his dick against your lips, telling you to be a good girl and suck him.

★ So you did, opening your mouth and little by little swallowing his fat cock, your movements slow, your eyes watering, he sighs because your mouth is so hot and wet, imagine your pussy.

★ He grabbed your strands of hair, keeping your head still as he began pounding into your mouth, seeking your climax, moaning how much of a slut you were for giving him a blowjob, making your core clench into nothingness, you were so wet ..

★ He came in her mouth while moaning, spilling cum down her throat and leaking out the sides of her mouth, grabbing her chin to swallow it all and sticking out his tongue to prove it. He smiled, lifting you brutally from the floor and lifting your skirt, ripping your panties, you spent long hours in that file room and when you left, your father's security guard asked if you were okay because you were tripping while walking, little did he know that the boy your father hates the most fucked you mercilessly.

#👻 gh0st headcanons !#fluffy #smut #kdrama #kdrama smut #my name #choi mujin #choi mujin x reader #do gangjae #do gangjae x reader

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

Text

Day 7: Milking - James Potter

Kinktober Day 7: James Potter x f!reader

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, begging,soft!James, dom/sub, praise kink, sub!james, mommy kink, blowjob, handjob, anal fingering, milking, cum swallowing, nicknames, no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link

It had been an adrenaline-filled afternoon in the quidditch stadium, in probably one of the longest matches you had witnessed at the school. 3 hours of your hands fiercely gripping the wooden panel before you as you watched and cheered for your fellow Gryffindors, stomach twisting in knots whenever a particular player so much as moved from one spot to another.

You loved coming to watch James play quidditch, proud to see the school’s most talented player doing what he loved most in the world but it was such a dangerous sport you couldn’t relax until he held the snitch.

“Come on James!” Lily shouted to your right, jumping and clapping her hands snapping your attention to the player who was now flying at full speed, arm outstretch reaching as far as he could. You leaned forward as well like it would somehow help him, a chorus of “come on!” screamed from all of your fellow Gryffindors but you couldn’t even muster up the courage to shout, scared you would be sick from nerves at seeing him move so quickly.

It was almost an instant reaction from your body as you slumped back, catching your breath that you didn’t realise you were holding, as you witnessed James happily holding the golden snitch high into the air in victory.

Smiling broadly you and Lily screamed and jumped in joy, it now meant that Gryffindor only had one more match against Hufflepuff left to win the trophy, they were so close to being the champions again!

Hooking your arm through the red-haired girls, the two of you made the cramped journey of trying to escape the stadium, along with the hundreds of other students who all pushed and prodded to get to the exit and back to the common room where you were sure would be a party in celebration.

The nervous feeling that had settled through your stomach changed from one of panic to anticipation as you paced the common room, the party has already begun the second you stepped through the door, the students not having the courtesy of waiting for the team to come back but you waited, wanting to see James before getting into the party mood.

An hour later, you were waiting on the arm of the sofa when the fat lady portrait swung back, revealing the joyous team who were carrying James on their shoulders. You laughed at them, clapping and cheering with the rest of your House until finally, James hopped down.

The tall messy haired boy pushed his way through the crowd to where you were eagerly waiting, rushing to meet him in the middle, arms flying around his neck, holding him just as tightly as his grip on your waist.

James’ mouth was on yours breathlessly, lips moving against yours, ignoring the cheers and whooping from the people around you both. Pulling back shyly at your audience you looked up at him with a gentle smile, eyes wide.

He leaned down slightly to kiss your forehead, smirking at your expression.

“I’m so proud of you” you had to shout as someone had turned the music up.

“Thanks love” his large hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head back to kiss you once more, deeper this time, his tongue slipping between your lips and for once, you didn’t care about the public display of affection, all the nerves you’d been through, you were just glad to have him uninjured.

However, it was Sirius’ obnoxious shouting that interrupted you both from becoming any more heated, demanding for James to come over and take a shot with him. Your boyfriend rolled his eyes before glancing down at you, reaching for your hand to tug you with him.

This was one of the biggest things that you loved about James, he never stopped making sure you were ok, he didn’t leave you on your own so he could hang out with his friends, and he always wanted to be with you. Pulling you everywhere throughout the party, an arm always around your waist, kissing your forehead every few minutes to make sure you were feeling ok, pulling you to the corner to lay a deeper kiss on your lips that had you mewling and wishing for more.

He knew exactly what he was doing with those kisses and now here you were, nearing midnight, his body behind yours, lips grazing up the side of your neck as the party looked like it wouldn’t be finishing anytime soon. “Want to get out of here, love?”

Finally, you had been waiting for him to ask you this for hours, turning in his arms, you only nodded whilst biting your lip. You couldn’t help but giggle as he rushed and pulled you out of the room, easily being able to push through the crowd that extended out into the corridor but you were sure McGonagall would be here to break up the party any time soon.

So you both broke out into a light job, still holding hands and rushing to get to the blank wall in the hidden part of the castle. Finally, you were staring at the wall which slowly transformed into a door, the room of requirement was definitely one of your favourite places in Hogwarts.

James stepped in first, holding the door open for you before closing it gently. Inside the room was a beautiful fireplace with a crackling fire that was lit and warming the room, in front of this and the only other thing in the room lay a beautifully crafted bed with deep maroon and golden sheets that you both had used countless times before.

James watched as you approached the bed, running your fingertips over the soft material. Turning towards him, you looked up and down his body, from the way his shoulders seemed more relaxed now he was in a private place with you, his eyes that were half-lidded and hands that were twitching at his side and you knew it was because he wanted to reach out for you.

“I’m so proud of you James, you’ve done so well today, you were a joy to watch as usual”. James smiled lovingly at you, his eyes softening as a small dimple formed on his cheek. You both had a different relationship from what others might have perceived it to be. From anyone else's perspective, James may have looked like the stereotypical boyfriend, in control most of the time, protecting you from the big bad world but when you were both alone, the roles were very much reversed.

“What do you want, pup?” you asked using your favourite term of endearment for him. It was also rare for you to even ask him this question, but you were feeling generous today as you began to delicately remove your clothes, glad that the fire was so warm against your back.

James’ mouth opened but he didn’t say anything like he was holding back so you encouraged him a bit more by taking off the last of your clothing leaving you in your underwear. “Words James”.

The boy shook his head trying to clear the fog as he stuttered, “I I I want you”.

“How do you want me? Tell me”.

You could see his cheek blushing with embarrassment, always finding it difficult to tell you what he wanted as it was such a rare privilege and he was so distracted by your half-naked body. But he took a deep breath, finding the courage to say, “I want your hand and mouth on me”.

“Good boy, see that wasn’t too difficult was it?” you removed the remainder of your clothes, feeling the fine hairs on your arms rising from being so exposed, your nipples were perky and it seemed to darken his eyes as he stared right at them.

“Strip”, you demanded, smiling slyly at watching him hurriedly remove his clothes in a much less elegant way than you had, nearly tripping over his boxers as finally he pulled them off and left them with the rest of his discarded clothes.

In all his fast movements, his cock was prominent, pumped full of blood, and slightly red on his swollen tip from where he had been hard for a while, you smirked at this before pointing to the clean bed, giving him his next instruction.

The Gryffindor clambered onto the bed, sitting back against the pillows and the headboard, his hands clenched at his side, knowing well enough then to pleasure himself without your permission, he really was on his best behaviour.

It was your turn to then kneel on the bed, slowly crawling towards him, seeing how long you could torture the poor boy who was breathing heavily watching you. However as you finally began clambering over your body, he mumbled something under his breath, his eyes once again glued to your breasts, “Want you, mommy”.

He had been so good you decided to reward him so continued to crawl up his body and sit back on his toned thighs, hands lifting to cup around the back of his head. James moved quickly, knowing that was his sign to go ahead and quickly sucked one of your awaiting nipples into his mouth, the two of you groaning at the sensation.

That wicked tongue of his lapped up the bud, moving from one to the other, swapping between sucking, licking and even nipping with his teeth which earnt him a roll of your hips, causing his cock to jump in between the two of your bodies.

His strong arms held you close, his warm skin now warming yours even hotter as every little movement that he did to your breasts went straight to your core, head falling back. Even though this was more pleasurable for you, you were sure James would argue this as tiny beads of precum began to leak from his throbbing cock.

Deciding he had enough, you pulled on his hair, causing his head to tip back to reveal his bottom lip sticking out.

“None of that, my boy isn’t a brat is he?” James shook his head, returning his lips to normal.

“Sorry mommy”, he looked ashamed so you quickly kissed his forehead, stroking some of the black messy hair away from his eyes before moving back down his body.

James followed your movements by shifting to a lying position in the centre of the bed and then began bending his legs, giving you room to sit in between them.

Trailing your fingers up his beautiful sculptured legs, you enjoyed all the little hitches of breaths it caused him to do as you tickled his skin. As you caressed his thighs and saw him part them, you noticed the two red marks that were always there after he’d played quidditch from all the time he’d spent on the broom.

You gave him a quick smile as he too noticed you looking at them. Adventuring further up, you decided to ignore his cock and began stroking his abdomen and stomach, feeling the path of hair on his crotch that you loved so very much he would stretch in class revealing it.

“Are you going to be good for me?” you’d hardly finished the sentence before James was eagerly nodding his head in response, eyes glossed over with arousal, desperate for you to touch him. “Then be a good boy and sit on your hands, no touching James”.

You could sense he was about to whine but held his tongue, shifting his body so his hands could go underneath himself, keeping them secure. Instead of verbally responding, you lowered to kiss the tip of his cock as a well done, a move that had his hips thrusting up as he moaned.

Easing back both of his knees, you exposed more of him so that you could see what you most wanted to play with. Using your index finger, you ran it down the centre of his chest, down his stomach, delicately running it over his cock that had him shuddering but you still continued, over his balls - further and further until you were circling his asshole.

James was breathing as if he’d just run a marathon, and very subtly shifted his hips down to try and get your finger closer, wanting what you had to offer just as much as you wanted to do to him. Whilst holding his strong eye contact, you spat down onto your finger, swiping the liquid over his hole and coating your finger whilst the other hand gripped the base of his eagerly awaiting cock.

The finger inserted slowly so as to not overwhelm him, but his body relaxed making it a lot easier to slip in, feeling upwards until you came across the perfect spot as James grunted at the touch, anticipating what was coming, his body twitching with want as you massaged his prostate. Simultaneously you stroked his cock, with long firm strokes, watching the skin encase his tip before pulling back adding extra sensations for him.

James was almost immediately overwhelmed with pleasure, eyes scrunching closed in concentration trying not to cum, wanting to prolong his reward for as long as possible.

You loved seeing him this desperate, the way a light sheen of sweat was coating his body, the hair on his arms standing up with goosebumps underneath, and those unholy moans that he kept singing, head now thrown back as his hips ever so slightly rocked with your hands.

With the finger against his prostate, you made sure to start slow, circling the nub with the slightest bit of pressure that you knew was sending sparks of pleasurable waves over his groin.

“You’ve done so well today in the match James, I’m so proud to be your girlfriend,” you said in a sultry tone, smiling as he actually cried out, more precum leaking out of his tip at your words, he was so easy to please.

Not stopping in your movements of tossing him off, you eased your mouth open and took his tip, laying it against your tongue before sucking, hollowing your cheeks and tasting his salty goodness. You didn’t take him any further, making sure to please all areas of his body separately to overstimulate him.

Even though James tried and failed to push harder into your warm, wet mouth. Instead, you inserted another finger into his hole, feeling him quivering around you but accepting the extra girth. With the extra support, you were able to bend your fingers in a “come here” way, bumping against his prostate as your other hand increased in the pressure around his thick shaft, tongue flicking across the slit.

James began chanting the word “mommy” over and over, you knew he was close, knew that he couldn't last for much longer. Slowing down in your movements, you removed your mouth to quickly instruct him, “Look at me James, look at me, you can cum baby”.

His head snapped up, eyes almost tearful as he looked at you desperately watching as you took him back into his mouth and continued to do the faster motions, chasing him towards his orgasm. The muscles in his thighs strained as he rutted with you.

“Mom-mommy” James slurred as he finally came, his cum shooting to the back of your throat where you eagerly swallowed, not stopping with each spurt, keeping your actions going making sure to milk him for every last drop until he was shouting and pulling away from the oversensitivity.

Removing your fingers from his cock and arse, you eased around his leg, climbing up to the pillows, and opening your arms for him to lie in. He happily accepted, laying his head on your chest, letting you hold him close but as you began to run your fingers through his hair, you noticed that his hand was now wandering down your abdomen.

“Wanna make mommy feel good too”, you could hear his voice coated in sleep and you were sure if you looked, his eyes would be close, so you reached down for his hand, pulling it up to rest against your cheek.

“Shh, it’s ok baby, I want you to go to sleep, I love you”.

“I love you too” and the soft sounds of his snores were soon filling the room of requirements as the captain of the quidditch team fell asleep.

#james potter #james potter fanfic #james potter smut #hp smut #hp one shot #james potter one shot #sub james potter #mine*#kinktober #kinktober 2022

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

So easy: Jason Todd x fem!reader

Summary: 4 times Jason felt the love for y/n and one time he actuallly expressed it.

Warning: kissing, a bit of angsts, swearing

„Y/N….” he groaned in pain stumbling into her apartment.

“Ok, all right, I got it, come here and try not to move”

She knew the drill. He came home, bruised and scared and she was immediately reaching for the first aid kit playing the nurse. At least for as long as it was within her reach, after all she was homebred in this area, not an expert. When something went terribly wrong she never hesitated to call upon the bats to check on him. However, such situations were rare. After all, Jason Todd was the Red Hood. The fright of the entire Crime Alley. Powerful, fierce, strong and well trained. It took a lot to leave more than a bruise or a little cut. He was simply better.

“How bad is it this time?” she asked making him sit up on her bed, frowning as she removed his helmet and his domino mask meeting his eyes.

“Not at all, just some usual…. Auch! That hurt!” he hissed when Y/N pressed a gauze to his ribs.

“Of course it did. Apparently we have different definition of not bad at all. “

“But….”

“No, not buts, Jace. Just stay quiet. You know I can only do so much of patching you up.”

“I know and…. Auch!”

“Oh, don’t be a baby. If you can take beating from criminals you can sustain some alcohol on your wounds. Don’t whine.”

“I’m not whining” he flinched a bit “but it’s different. I’m not afraid to be vulnerable with you….” he tried to grab her hands but she wriggled out of his reach, now putting dressing over his chest and arms. Those strong arms that always made her feel so safe whenever he was around

“Mhm. Should I be proud about it?”

“You should” he smirked and his eyes flashed a bit

“Well then, thank you for this distinction, Red Hood” she rolled her eyes “can I remise this honor to the benefit of not having to see you bruised and beaten up? Cause that would be something worth my mental health.”

“Sweetheart……” when she finished her job he finally got a chance to grab her hips and pull her closer towards him, opening his legs a bit so she could stand between them.

“Don’t you dare playing dirty on me.” She warned as his hand traveled up from her hip to waist and he slowly stood up, his eyes never leaving her.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about” he leaned in so that his lips brushed over hers, his breath hot on her skin. Much to her annoyance, her body betrayed her and shook at this gesture.

“No idea, huh? Well then good for you, Red, you need rest after all. So you can stay here, in the bed” it took all her strength to remove his warm hands from her body, missing the contact instantly “and I will take the couch.”

“You can…..”

“No. No I can’t stay. You need to relax. And by relax I mean rest, Jason. Nothing more. No activity.”

“Can I at least get a kiss to make it better?” he pouted

“I thought it wasn’t bad at all” she laughed but gave in to his pleading “Just that” she bend over him and lovingly kissed the top of his head, ruffling his hair a bit.

“It’s not enough…” he whined

“One more than you needy boy” she smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth, her lips lingering there for a bit longer then needed. “rest” the girl softly caressed his cheek and he obediently closed his eyes.

“Thank you” he whispered.

“Mhm, that’s a good word, you’re a menace, Jace.”

“But I’m your menace.” he smiled at her and there was nothing but love and admiration in his eyes.

****

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” she groaned kicking and throwing punches at the dummy in the corner “I’m training”

“Why?” he leaned on the doorframe, watching her every move and fighting the urge to correct her posture before she got hurt because of the bad technique

“Why?” she stopped her actions and eyed him carefully “what do you mean why?”

“I mean exactly this. Why?”

“Um, I don’t know” she mocked “maybe because I want to be able to fight? Because I want to know how to protect myself? Because I….”

“What?”

“Because I want to go on patrol with you. One day.”

“No.” his jaw clenched and tone turned harsh at the simple thought of her joining him.

“I wasn’t really asking for permission. “

“Good. Cause you will never get it.”

“Well I couldn’t care less. I can always just follow you around. Or become a vigilante on my own. There are enough trouble makers in Gotham to find one for myself.”

“Don’t you dare.” He hissed taking a few steps towards her, stopping inches apart.

“Is it because I’m a girl?”

“Y/n….” he groaned, but she did not let him say another word

“You let Artemis join you.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it letting her.

“aha! Got you! She never asked for your opinion, did she?”

“It’s different.”

“Why? Because she’s an Amazon? Or because she’s powerful, beautiful and takes no shit from anyone? Especially from men. Or is it because you two have an affair and you don’t want me to find out about…..

This time he did not let her finish, cutting her off with a kiss. Strong, passionate and heated due to all the emotions inside him, but soon slowing down and turning it into long, soft expression of his love for this unruly girl. With gentle touches and with every move of his lips brushing against hers he was trying to convey everything the words could not.

“This is unfair” she whined when his mouth moved to her neck “Jace….”

“Mhm….” He muttered with zero intention to stop.

“Oh, come on…… you can’t just….fuck…..” she hissed when he bit on her soft spot

“I can’t what?” he smirked knowing and seeing well enough how her body reacted on him.

Oh, that was enough. In any other circumstance she would probably give in to him, after all she always wanted him, but this? He was trying to play her like a toy and make her change her mind.

“Just let go off me Jason.” she wriggled impatiently trying to get free

“Is that what you want?” his hands sneaked under her shirt and if she didn’t stop it now, she would never do it.

“Yes. Yes, fuck Jason, just get back!” she finally yelled taking him by surprise and making him back off.

“Y/N….”

“You do this every fucking time! You treat me like a play toy whenever I’m trying to move out of my comfort zone!”

“Baby….”

“Cut it! Don’t you dare trying to sweet talk me! I know I’m not good enough to join you on patrol! I fucking now that! But how the hell am I supposed to get better if you don’t give me any tips!”

“Can’t you see I’m just trying to keep you safe!?” oh, the anger issues were now in the house

“Oh, here we go again!’ she threw her hands up in frustration “you know what, I won’t fight you. I know it’s what you want. So I’m going out!”

“Where?!”

“I don’t know! And frankly, I don’t care. I might as well ask Dick to train me if you don’t want!”

“You won’t do such thing!” he grabbed her wrist with more force than intended and she winced in the pain “Shit. Fuck. Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…..”

“I know. I know, Jace.” She said, her eyes full of sadness and hurt. “You know, sometimes I wish there were more Jason Todd in this relationship and less Red Hood. But I know. And I think we both need to cool down and …. talk later?”

“All right.”

She just nodded and without another word left the apartment not really sure where to go. But despite everything Jason knew how to take care of her when he picked the phone and dialed the number

“Dickhead? You need to do something for me …….”

***

He was tired.

No. He was exhausted.

It was 3 am and he was just wrapping his patrol up and getting back home. To her. To the only person in the world who saw the good in him even if most of the times he himself could not and lapsed into self-hatred. The only person who could both mock him and soothe him at the same time. The only person who was both harsh and rough, always ready to smack his head for doing something batshit crazy and caring, loving and delicate.

He loved her like crazy.

She was the reason every night he was struggling in the fight to get back to her.

Even if sometimes it felt easier to just give up on everything.

He was not like Dick. The hero. The handsome one. The little ray of sunshine one. He was violent, had a lot of unresolved trauma from the past and tended to push her away to protect her. Fuck, he was getting on her nerves on purpose so she would just leave him for good, but he could never discourage her.

She always stayed.

And the simple thought of getting back to her, taking her into his arms and just holding her for whatever rest of the night was left, safe and soft and warm and peaceful was doing something to him.

In the most quiet way it was possible to not wake her up he climbed up to the flat. And yes, of course he could have just used the door which at this hour would probably catch less attention but old habits die hard. Even for someone who died quite literally. As he removed his shoes, holsters and helmet his eyes were already peeking through the slightly opened bedroom door.

Fuck, she was so beautiful.

Sleeping so peacefully, her breath even and it was quite a change from all the sleepless night he caused her for the last two weeks. She refused to lay down until he was back safe. Which obviously soon started taking toll on her health and he forced her to promise she would not stay up this late. After a lot of convincing she had to give up. It was good to know she actually did keep her word.

Jason sighed deeply and the sound made the girl squirm but she did not wake.

As fast as he could he removed his clothes and sneaked under the blanket next to her, immediately feeling calmness and peace stemming from her presence. Just looking at her and feeling like a freaking creep. He wanted her closer to him, impossibly closer, but at the same time it was never his intention to wake her so he decided to just stick to keeping the distance. She was a light sleeper after all. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, his hands aching to touch her.

“Jace….” She whispered shifting her positon and moving closer herself.

“Did I wake you?” he whispered back

“You did not.”

“I’m sorry baby…..”

“Are you even listening to me?” she huffed “you did not wake me. And even if you did I wouldn’t be mad about it. I’m mad about something else though.”

“What is it, baby?”

“Could you please tell me what the hell do you think you are doing?” her gaze fixed on his fists

“I…. I wanted to hold you, but was afraid you would wake…” he confessed not able to look her in the eyes

“Idiot” she muttered, grabbing his hands. “Do you know you are an idiot?” wrapping them around her waist and moving even closer to hide her face in his chest. “I need to know you are back safe the second you get here. And believe it or not I can feel you next to me even in my sleep. And I need that. Do you understand me?”

“I do, baby, I do.” He kissed the top of head

“Good. I need you next to me. I need you in my arms. So don’t you ever, ever distance yourself from me.”

Fuck. He loved her so much. He loved how she felt safe with him, how she was falling asleep on him, he loved how she made him feel. Her soft hands around his torso, her head on his chest, her slowing breath tickling the skin. His heart was just swelling thanks to this girl. He was the luckiest motherfucker in the whole Gotham.

***

“Jason!” her echoed from another room and it only took him a second to bust there reading to fight whatever enemy of Red hood might be attacking. Luckily, there was only his girlfriend sitting in front of the computer, grinning in a smile so wide even Joker would be jealous.

“Is everything all right, babe?”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it. This is not happening!”

“Honey, you are not making any sense now.”

“That’s because I’m feeling a lot of contradictory things right now” she turned to look at him, her eyes glistening, her face lighted up and happy in a way he never saw her before. That was new experience and if he could he would just stay in this moment forever. However, it was not given when she jumped from the chair and pulled him toward the PC. “come on, look at this” she pointed at an e-mail on the screen. Please, tell me you see it too. Tell me I did not imagine this. Please, tell me it’s real…..” she crossed her fingers and closed her eyes as he started reading out loud.

Dear Miss Y/L/N,

It is our greatest pleasure to inform you, we have reviewed the draft of the story you send to us.

“You send them your book?” he asked tearing the gaze away from the computer to care

“I did, I did…. Now just keep reading.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I did not want to test my luck. Now, just go on…..”

Regardless of the fact that there are some typos and a lot of punctuation mistakes….

Yeah, right, she was never good with that

We would like to publish your book. Please, fill in the attached form and get back in touch with us as soon as possible. We would like to discuss the matters of printing numbers and your salary.

With best regards….

“J.A. Black!” she screamed the name of the sender “J.A.Black, Jace! Black Publishing is going to publish my book!!” she lunged at him and he was more than happy to embrace her.

“I’m so proud of you, baby” he kissed her temple repeatedly “you worked so hard for this, you definitely deserve it.”

“You think?” she pulled away from him, her voice now serious, her eyes scanning his face “you really think so? After all they mentioned my bad punctuation and typos. Maybe I;m not good enough for Black? What if this is a joke to humiliate me?”

“Y/N.” Jason grabbed her shoulders gently “baby, please, look at me” she listened meeting his orbs and shutting up “calm down. Stop spinning, all right? It’s not a joke. It’s not a mistake. You are talented and hard-working and really, really good with words. I would know, I’ve read enough in my life.”

“Can’t really argue with that” her beautiful smile showing again

“You know I’m your number one fan, right? And believe me, everyone who would get hands on your work will love it too.”

“You know what? I don’t even care anymore. It’s enough to satisfy my number one fan.”

“Really?” he crossed his arms over chest and smirked “I’m gonna wait until it comes out in a couple weeks. I wonder if you would claim the same then.”

A month later, the book saw the light of the day and Y/N had to do some PR actions like meeting with the readers and hundreds of fans, because Jason was right in that part. She became popular pretty fast and soon people started asking about part 2 of the story. And now she was scared. She was never good with people and public speaking and that was exactly why she choose to hide behind the screen and just write. It would be helpful if Jace could come with her at least to one of this meeting but because of his red-hooding it was impossible and since she knew that she would never ask him to. So she dealt with it.

There were only one meeting left and after that she was hoping to get back into her kind-of peaceful life. Just her, the Gotham vigilante and a bunch of criminals ready to attack, kidnap or kill her. And it might be about to turn even worse now that she was popular, but both her and Jason were pushing the thought away, deciding to just celebrate the moment for as long as they could.

Y/n was in the middle of the conversation when Jason imperceptibly sneaked into the audience, shielding himself from her view and just observing how she was doing.

She was glowing.

To say the least.

All of her excitement, all of her beauty showing off. And she was wearing almost no makeup. The way she was talking about the literature, the book, her ideas and inspirations. The shy girl he knew was completely gone, instead he was looking at confident and astonishing young woman sharing her passion. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, her lips parted, her eyes sparkling. It was like he fell in love with her all over again and there was nothing more he wanted than to steal her away from the guy reporter, get her back to the apartment and just have her all to herself. Nothing explicit, just having her. And he just couldn’t wait.

“It seems like we have another question coming from the audience” the reported said and motioned for someone on the side of the room to pass the microphone to the person who was willing to ask.

Y/N’s eyes searched through the crowd, as she squinted, her eyes adjusting to the darkness in the auditorium being contrast to the ablazed main floor. When her gaze rest on a familiar face she could not stop the smile on her face. He came.

“I got a question for Y/N. How about we ditch this theatrics and get back home? I got some better ideas how to use the time….”

Jason fucking Todd was a pain in the ass when he wanted to. But he also knew she would forgive him for that. After all, he only got eyes for her.

***

“Y/N? Baby, what happened?”

“Nothing. Please, go away.”

She was laying on the bed, back to the door so he could not see her face. However, judging by her muffled voice and a bit panting breath he could tell she was probably crying.

“Come on, sweetie. Don’t do this. Don’t push me away.”

“I don’t really want you to see me this way.” She muttered turning to the other side when he circled the bed to face her.

“Oh, come on” he grabbed her hip and with zero effort made her face him “you know you can tell me anything.”

“I don’t want to be a burden. Besides, you don’t really like when I get like this….”

“What?” he was dumbfounded “I don’t like when….. God, y/n” he run his fingers through his hair “did I ever give you an impression like I don’t care how you feel? Tell me” he lifted her chin lightly and their eyes met “did I?”

“No.”

“Well that’s a relief” he smiled “now, make space for me and tell me what’s the problem. I bet either Jason or Red can solve this. Do I need to hurt someone or do you just need a hug?”

“I…. I don’t really know…” she covered her hands with the sleeves of her sweater, her hair a mess and it all made her look so small, fragile and innocent. Once again, Jason felt his heart swelling. If someone, anyone, caused his baby any pain, he was not only going to hurt them, but eliminate them. “I don’t even know how to start. I feel so pathetic. You are ….you know” she waved her hand around since the rule to not mention Jason’s alter ego name in the house was forever actual “you’ve been through so much worse shit than me, it feels like I have no right to complain.”

“You’re right. I've been through a hell lot of shit. But from what I know, you’ve been through it with me. Always there even at my lowest. So don’t feel like your feelings are not important. Let me be there for you in the way you were for me.”

“It’s hard to say how I feel.”

“Don’t think about it. Just say it.” he held her hands, his thumbs circling soothing patterns on her palms.

“I think I’m broken. I feel like I push you too much and I’m a challenge to you. I feel like…. It’s hard to be with me.”

He just stared at her, eyes wide open. Was what she was saying real? Did she even hear the words coming out of her mouth? Maybe he was hearing something else? Was he high or drunk or was it a dream, or rather nightmare? Was his baby, his love, his sunshine, his only source of happiness and the most adorable person on the planet, shit, in the entire universe confessing to feeling like a liability?

“Jace?” she sobbed. Oh, apparently while he was spacing out, she was still talking and now was awaiting his reaction

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand a single word coming out of your mouth.”

“I said…..”

“No, no, I heard you, I just don’t understand it. You feel like you weight me down? Y/N……” his voice broke.

“Am I not? Come on. You are…. You know. You have a lot going on. And as if that wasn’t enough you worry about me, about my safety, my health. I’m a threat to your well-being, Jace. What if you get distracted on the field because of me? What if you get hurt because I’m pathetic piece of shit and anyone can hurt me and you would want to take revenge? And we both know you would. I’m a burden. Besides, I can be cold, I am stubborn, workaholic, tend to withdraw and manipulate people and always have to do things my own way. My sense of humor is wicked, I act like a child sometimes and I can be messy. How does that not push you away?”

“Babe…. I can’t believe it. We’ve been together for….” He hesitated looking at the calendar on the wall and then at the watch “5 years, 2 months, 23 days and 3 hours…..”

“You remember it so precisely?” she frowned

“How can I not? But after all this time you still have doubts about yourself? If anything, I am a burden in this relationship, not you. Y/N, babe, I love you.”

“I love you too, but….”

“And all the things you mentioned?” he shook his head in disapproval and wrapped his arms around her pulling her towards his chest “You’re missing the most important thing about yourself.”

“That I’m hateable?”

“That you are just so easy to love……” he kissed the top of her head, holding her tighter when she held her breath upon hearing those words.

And for the first time in a while, he knew, that at this exact moment she was the one who was melting in the love he had for her not the other way round. That it was finally him who gave her the affection and attention she so desperately needed.

@pinksirensong

@somest1

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year

Note

i had an idea for your shallow end series. imagine y/n telling tua about her late older brother and what he was like, little stories about him when he was alive in attempt to keep his memory alive even after having another baby :')

wishes

pairing: jake sully x fem!na'vi!reader

summary: in which you help tua fall asleep by telling her about her older brother...

warnings: a little angsty :(

word count: 0.6k

author's note: yes it's a bit short but i liked how it turned out so, eh i'm not too worried. hope you enjoy it. this kind of hurt me haha

“A-Aawpok?”

“Mhmm, that’s your older brother’s name.” You say.

Both you and little Tua, who was beginning to say her first words, were lying down in the tent together that night. Everyone else had fallen asleep, all sprawled about. Lo’ak, Spider, and Neteyam were sleeping on one side of the room. Kiri and Tuk lay next to Neytiri, Tuk being sandwiched between the two. Jake lied on the other side of Neytiri and was also sandwiched between you and Neytiri. And Tua was on your right. You had turned a little bit out of your husband’s arms so you could face and comfort her.

It usually took Tua a while to fall asleep. You never minded staying up with her since you were having trouble sleeping yourself these days.

You caressed her little toes as you whispered quietly for her to hear, “He would have adored you, my little one. He always loved taking care of his siblings, fiercely protective of them—which means he was as stubborn as your father.” You chuckled quietly as Tua stared up at you with wide eyes.

Tua took your thumb and brought it to her mouth, numbing at it with her barely grown teeth as you continued. “The boy was quite adventurous too. Often always getting into trouble with Lo’ak, he could be a little troublesome sometimes but that’s what I loved best about him. I still remember the first time he got his ikran. Your brother was so stubborn about it. Like Lo’ak, he had fallen off the first time and was determined to get back on it and try again. Jake was against it but Aawpok did it anyway and he succeeded. I had never been so proud but of course, I had to receive an earful afterwards about how he’s my son, yadda, yadda, yadda.” Tua giggled when you tried mimicking Jake’s voice. “We often fought about it but that was during the times where your father and I weren’t as close…

“Aawpok always hated it, how distant we were in the beginning. And I hated that he had to see that. He was sensitive and always fought for us to love each other someday.” You played with Tua’s little hairs on her head, blinking away tears. “I just wished he could’ve seen that it did come true. That his wishes were heard that he was heard. He would be so happy if he were here…my little sunshine boy.” You tickled her belly, earning another giggle from the toddler that made you smile despite your tears. “And my little moon girl.”

You hummed a quiet lullaby to her, stopping every now and then when your voice quivered just a bit. Eventually, Tua’s eyes began to droop until they closed and her breathing evened in a steady pattern.

And for a moment you pressed your ear against her chest without waking her, listening to her little heartbeat. You lied on your back then, closing your eyes to will the tears away.

It wasn’t until you felt a larger body wrap itself around you, did you finally open your eyes. You turned your head to find Jake was awake. He watched you as he always did, his larger hand coming up to caress your cheek, wiping away the tear stains as he did.

“Is she sleeping?” He asked quietly, sitting up just a bit to see her sleeping form.

“Mhm.” You responded, burying yourself further into his chest. He responded instantly, wrapping his arm around you while the other stayed with Neytiri.

He pressed a kiss against your hairline, “I miss him too.” He kissed your nose. “And I wish he was here, every waking day.”

You smiled up at him, “He was so much like you.”

A chuckle left his lips, “Yes but he was you all the same. I loved that about him. And I love that about you.”

You sat up slightly and leaned down to press a kiss against his lips, “I love you.”

“And I adore you.”

#avatar jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #avatar jake #avatar jake sully #jake sully #avatar the way of water #jake sully drabble #jake sully imagine #avatar imagine #avatar drabble #shallow series

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hiddenwritingsintheworld · 6 months

Text

My Alpha Ch. 1 (Alpha!Declan Harp x Omega!Reader) Series

Thank you all so much for the demand for this series!! This first chapter-talk about slow burn- but I promise you all you're gonna love this series!

Donations | Thoughts & Feelings | My Alpha Series

You looked around the meeting, the fire in the middle of the circle kept you all warm on the breezy cold fall evening. “We gather because our ancestors did this, and we do it to respect them, us, our kind and our pack!” the pack master yelled. The men, women, boys, and girls howled and cheered. You sat quietly on a log watching everyone. You presented at 16, an omega, and here at 21, you still waited. Mostly due to the fact your father was a pack master and didn’t allow anyone to go near you.

Also, because once everyone heard that you were Omega, they avoided you like the plaque and made their alphas do the same. Funny, Alphas are always so strong and fierce, until their wives or ehem-“Mates” were around and then they were whipped little bitches. You tucked your hands into your pockets as you sat on a log, listening to your father introduce the newest couple in the pack, the 17-year-old girl grinning proudly, the mark on her neck showing in the firelight, her 20-year-old boyfriend holding her possessively close to his chest. Your father and the pack gave them happy smiles, grinning as they announced they were engaged.

After everyone had settled down, your father smiled, “Now, we have one more matter…a newcomer has joined our pack…Declan Harp, he comes from North Montana, ventured down here for a fresh start after a painful past.” Your father held his hand out a little as a rather tall, handsome man came out from behind a few others and looked around the group. His eyes landed on you before he looked onto others. The pack welcomed this newcomer and soon, the meeting was left to everyone chatting and sharing beers. You stood off to the side watching everyone, alone and seeing all the women watching Declan talk to the pack master.

Soon after their conversation had been turned toward the pack and your father motioned you over to them. You huffed internally and walked over to the two of them. “Declan, this is my daughter Y/N, our pack is lucky to have what Omegas are left in this world. Omegas are an important part of a pack.” Your father was proud of the fact that his pack had many omegas. You hated it, but you looked up at Declan and swallowed before you let out a soft “Hello, welcome to the pack,” you stuck your hand out.

Declan smiled and shook your hand. “It’s nice to meet you Y/N,” you smiled at him before your dad wrapped an arm around you. “Proud that my daughter here is an omega.” He looked down at you and squeezed you closer. “She’ll make a fine mate to a great alpha one day” he spoke as if he knew the future already.

Declan looked from you, to your fathers hand squeezing your shoulder and he felt something in his gut. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was a feeling that your fathers arm around you was wrong.

You looked up at Declan again before looking at your father, “Why don’t I show Declan around town, since he’s new and all? I know the lumber yard is looking for someone to work there. Maybe he might be interested?” you asked as your father looked down at you, eyeing you before shaking his head. “No offense Declan, but I can’t just trust you to walk around town innocently with my daughter. You understand right?” he held you tighter to him, giving Declan a tight smile. Declan smiled a little. “No Sir, I understand completely. Why don’t you give me the address of the lumber yard and I’ll stop by there tomorrow and put in an application.” he smiled down at you.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty house and smiled softly, ‘thank god…he’s so overbearing sometimes,” you stretched and walked into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, you plopped down at the table, turning the kitchen TV on and watching your favorite tv show ‘Charmed’. You grinned while seeing the sister witches battling the source of all evil in the episode.

A loud knock sounded on the back door, causing you to jump and glance behind you toward the back door. Getting up, you moved the drawn blinds to see the new alpha from the pack meeting the night before. You smiled and unlocked the door, cracking it open. “Hey!” you smiled at him.

Declan looked at you and smiled. “Good Morning Y/N, Hope I’m not bothering you, I was looking for your dad actually,” Declan said looking down at you. You shook your head and peeked up at him, “You’re not bothering me, I just haven’t seen my father this morning. He might be in town,” you told him softly. Declan nodded and reached in his pocket pulling out a card, “I, uh, wanted to give you my number. Your pop seems to be pretty protective of you,” he said as the corner of his mouth pulled up into a half smile. You smiled a sly, shy smile and plucked the card from his hand, flipping it over in your fingers, reading the phone number on it. “uh, thanks…I’ll text you sometime.” You said as he grinned. “I’d really like that,” he smiled and walked down the steps before looking back up at you. “bye Y/N,” he waved a little and walked off as you bit your lip, closing the door and locking it.

As the day went on, you got dressed in your dinner uniform and headed off to work. You tried not to think about Declan, how handsome he was, or the fact he smelt so good. You started your shift, trying to push the thoughts of him from your mind but found it difficult. You wanted to get to know him, but your father wasn’t going to allow it. Your gut told you that your father never had any intention of you finding a mate.

You walked through the diner, carrying food to customers, taking orders, laughing and joking with the locals as they tipped you and treated you nicely. You got a feeling of eyes on you, but figured it was just customers waiting on you to serve them. But you never would have guessed that there was an alpha sitting across the street in the dark, watching, waiting to pounce on you the moment he had the chance.

Tag List:

@notebooks-of-nonsense @fdl305 @bval-1 @calimoi @syntheticavenger @forgetmenotsexy @mrsjenniferwinchester @chaneajoyyy @mommad @wolfieeebbbyyy @dontbescaredtosingalong @ellen-reincarnated1967 @adriellej @coffeebooksandfandom @patzammit @posiemax @auriel187 @ladybug05 @stoneyggirl2 @fallenoutofrose @mrspeacem1nusone @teamfreewill-imagine @inlovewith3 @auvisanspeur

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sinner-as-saint · 2 years

Text

Like A Villain

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader AU

Requested.

Run-through: The team is away, leaving you alone at the tower. And that’s when the enemy attacks. Assassins of HYDRA came to take you out, thinking you’re nothing but a helpless, new addition to the team. But little do they know that you too can fight like a villain. When the team comes back home to the bloody mess you left behind after dealing with the enemies, a certain blue-eyed, metal-armed super soldier is highly impressed; and suddenly he wants all the fierce aggression that you displayed directed right at him…

Themes: smut, avenger!reader,

a/n: for the lovely @breathtaking-cynthia

“Play the footage,” Tony called out to the AI, “I wanna see this.” He said, and gave you a smile and a wink to show just how proud of you he was.

You smirked, hopping up on the nearest table and watched how the screen started replaying the security camera footage from just a little over an hour ago. The team wasn’t here when HYDRA showed up at the tower. So you had to defend yourself and the tower all by yourself, and you did a pretty good job - as the team was about to witness.

They all stood around the screen, still in their combat suits as they watched.

The footage:

You were sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, on your floor, putting your nail polish on when the AI suddenly announced that someone was in the tower and that it wasn’t any member of the team.

You smirked, “Hydra?” You asked.

“Yes.” The AI replied.

“Let them come. Let the bastards think they’re sneaking up on me.”

“Noted.”

A few minutes of complete silence later, while you were just finishing up your nail polish, footsteps were heard behind you. You turned to face them with a deadly, villainous smile; occasionally blowing on your fresh manicure.

“Well, hello there.” You taunted the men who faced you while cracking their knuckles - showing off.

“Did the team leave you home alone? All helpless?” One of them asked, and you’d recognize that traitor’s voice anywhere. Rumlow. “Give up, you don’t wanna mess up your pretty nails now, do you, Princess?”

You leaned back against the kitchen island, looking all bored and unbothered. “You think I’m helpless because I just got my nails done?” You chuckled, “I could fight you and your pathetic men and still not mess up my pretty nails.”

He snarled, and his men all took a step forward in unison. You shook your head at them. Pathetic indeed. You smirked as you hopped off the stool, “Alright boys, let’s get this over with.”

They came at you one by one. Thank fuck it was just hand to hand combat because there was no way you’d survive bullets. But combat was your forté - though a challenge now because you couldn’t possibly mess your nails up. Of course, it was a silly promise that you made earlier but you liked to show off. Just a little.

You limited using your hands; just the elbows. Which happened to be to your advantage because elbow strikes hurt so much more than punches. So you fought, dancing your way around the men; kick, duck, elbow strike and repeat. Over and over again.

One of them tried to grab you but you escaped just in time, however he tore a piece of your clothes. You kicked that one extra hard in the face, breaking his nose and knocking him out cold immediately, yelling, “That was my favourite sundress!”

Rumlow fled at some point, realising who and what he was up against, leaving his men behind for you to absolutely obliterate and leave into a pile of bloody mess and broken bones.

You pinned down the last of them with your thighs, straddling him to the floor as you repeatedly brought down your elbow to his face - hard enough to knock him out, but just enough to keep him alive - your agents could use him for questioning later, you thought.

With the last one down, you panted as you stood up and looked around at the men lying on the floor, bleeding even more than you did. You wiped the cut on your lip with the back of your hand before lifting your hands up to your face, checking your fresh manicure and just as promised, your nails remained intact. Perfect as always.

You even made a show of blowing on your nails before looking up to where you knew the security cams were recording. You blew a kiss to the cams and winked before asking the AI to call for backup and agents to clean up and take care of the aftermath of what just happened while you went away to clean up after yourself.

Once the AI stopped the footage, the entire team turned to look at you with proud smiles and nods.

“That’s my girl!” Nat said, raising her fist to bump against yours.

You gave her a bright smile before turning to Bucky, who stood there so still. You and Bucky were known to always argue about which one of you has better combat skills. So you asked, “What do you say, soldier? Am I finally better than you?” You smirked, watching him as he frowned ever so slightly at you.

He was indeed proud but he still scoffed, “Your strikes could be a little cleaner.” He mumbled before walking away, the entire team either shaking their heads or chuckling after him before they walked up to you to tell you how proud they were.

–

Bucky didn’t stop at all until he reached his floor, where he could finally breathe right. Because fuck that was hot. Watching you fight and take down those men, all the perfect strikes and powerful kicks… you looked like a god, even in your little cocktease of a sundress.

“Fuck…” Bucky swore under his breath, looking down to the massive erection in his pants. Yup, you did that. That footage was gonna be the death of him. Not to mention the way you’d pin down that one guy with your thighs? Bucky had never been more jealous of a man before seeing that. He wanted to be straddled by you; with you either on top of his cock or his face he didn’t mind which one.

That alone would keep him up at night. The sight of another man writhing beneath you as you went absolutely feral while defending yourself and your home. Fuck… he couldn’t take it. He was so turned on, it hurt.

He sighed as he walked into the shower, already knowing what his night would consist of tonight: replaying that footage of you pinning down that guy with your thighs, and his cock in his hand.

—

When Bucky woke up the next morning, needless to say with a boner, the last thing he expected to see was you standing at the end of his bed. Arms crossed over your chest, with a smirk on your face. Wearing one of those damn sundresses you always wore whenever you weren’t dressed in your combat suits; the kind that made him want to tear them off of your body and empty himself inside your body.

He held back a groan as he grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to place it over his erection as subtly as one can but you caught it.

“There’s no need to do all that. I could see your boner through the blanket.” You said with a straight face, trying to hide the excitement.

He groaned out loud, “What do you want? Go annoy someone else.” He mumbled, getting out of bed in nothing but his boxers, strutting lazily all the way to his bathroom.

Your voice, more like the accusation in it, made his stop halfway. “I heard you, watching the footage last night. I think you tend to forget that my floor is right above yours, and I have excellent hearing.” You smirked as he turned to face you with a raised eyebrow.

“And?” He asked, pretending like he didn’t care.

“And,” You took a step forward, “Why were you replaying the ending? Over and over again?” You asked, giving him that seductive, lethal faint smile that most men fell for.

Bucky shrugged, “None of your business. Now get out of my room.” He said, turning around to walk away, hiding his growing erection.

You chuckled, “You look like you got caught. Otherwise why are you running away from me?”

“I’m not running, I’m going to shower and brush, now get out of my room and go annoy someone else. I’m sure Steve would be free right now.” He said as he entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

You called, “I’ll be right here, waiting for you to come out!”

He replied back, “Be my guest!” And then you heard the shower turning on.

You smirked and jumped back into his bed, not caring that he would kick you out the moment he stepped out of the shower. You smiled to yourself as you buried further under his comfy covers, stretching like a kitten on his warm bed as you breathed in his scent. He always smelt so good.

Fifteen minutes later, Bucky still hadn’t walked out of that bathroom.

“Are you hiding from me in there? Like a coward?” You called out, chuckling to yourself, knowing that that would make him walk out immediately. And it did.

Two seconds later, Bucky walked out and glared at you as you lounged on his bed. His long hair was still damp, so was his chest. He was now dressed in dark grey sweats which matched his shiny metal arm. He looked good enough to eat.

But first, you’d get that answer out of him.

“Friday?” You called out, summoning the AI. “How many times exactly did Bucky watch that footage of me fighting the bad guys last night?”

Less than a few seconds later came the reply, “Seven times.”

You smirked at Bucky, and you said to the AI, “Thank you.” Bucky visibly tensed up as you eyed him up and down. “Seven times, huh?” You teased. “I heard you, you know?”

He sighed as he approached the bed, looking unbothered, “Get out.”

You shook your head, smirking at him. Bucky barely had time to process what happened because by the time he did, you’d already pulled him down onto the bed and straddled his waist, pinning him down on the soft blankets.

“I saw the way you clenched your fists while watching the footage with the rest of the team last night,” You whispered, trailing your fingers up and down his arms before grabbing both his hands, flesh and metal, and bringing them up to rest on either side of your waist.

Bucky instinctively grabbed you and kept you in place above him. “That didn’t mean anything.” He said, his voice much deeper than earlier.

“Oh?” You taunted, “My guess is that you were either impressed by my amazing skills, or…” You trailed off, grinding on him, feeling his bulge throbbing beneath you, you held back a gasp as you said, “Or you were turned on when you watched me straddle the bad guy.”

Despite being a super soldier, he couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks at the sound of that. You chuckled, grounding your hips against his even more. Bucky couldn’t hold back the grunt which escaped his lips this time, “Fuck… are you not wearing panties?” He asked, as if accusing you of something.

“No,” You replied, sounding so casual and nonchalant as you lifted up the hem of your dress to show him, “See?”

Bucky groaned at the sight of his clothed, erected cock so perfectly nestled against your bare, warm, wet flesh. You were leaving behind a patch of wetness on the front of his sweatpants as you kept grinding against him, gasping so quietly in pleasure that it made him lose his mind. He looked up at you, stared into your eyes with his lips parted in hunger.

“What do you want, huh?” He asked, tightening his grip on your waist, which was the only way to keep his hands occupied and keeping them from grabbing you and fucking you hard and fast.

“For you to answer my question, of course.” You said, teasing him even more. “Were you impressed, or turned on? Maybe both?” You teased. “Maybe you wanted to be the one in between my thighs instead. Hmm? What was it?”

Oh he had enough. He grabbed you by the throat, flipping the two of you around. He pinned you down on his bed, keeping you in place by your throat as he leaned in to whisper, “Stop fucking teasing me. You came here to fuck, right? So either you let me fuck you nice and hard, or you walk away right now. Which one will it be?”

Your body melted under his touch. And he was so, so tempting to give in to. You almost begged him for it. But you still teased him because watching a man of his magnitude losing his mind was a different kind of adrenaline rush.

“You tell me,” You sassed, “You’re the one who most probably came too many times while you watched me straddle another man last night, wishing it was you instead,” You smirked, “Like a perverted little boy.” You added, solely to mess with him.

One moment you were pinned down under him. And with the next few seconds, he’d torn your dress off of you, throwing the destroyed scraps of fabric somewhere behind him before he flipped you two back around, grabbed your hips and brought your dripping cunt up to his face.

Bucky dove right in, licking and tasting you like an animal in heat. He looked no less than a hungry beast either; his long hair all messy and wild, the heated look in his eyes, the way his beard made your skin burn.

You whined and moaned above him, unable to form coherent words or thoughts as he slid his tongue in and out of you, and around your throbbing clit. “Oh… Bucky!” You exclaimed when he playfully bit down on your clit.

“Yeah?” He whispered, lips brushing against your slippery, wet folds, “This feels good, huh?”

You whined, nodding and pulling handfuls of his hair as he ate you out.

“Ride my face, come on,” He demanded, gripping you by the hips and pressing you further down onto his face, smothering himself in between your thighs.

You giggled, his beard felt funny in between your legs as you rode his tongue just like how he asked. Bucky moaned shamelessly from beneath you, barely pulling away for air as he went wild, eating you out like he so desperately wanted.

“Is this what you wanted? Ever since you saw that footage?” You taunted, knowing he wouldn’t take the time to reply because he was having too much fun tasting you. “You couldn’t wait to be crushed between these t-,”

He cut you off by growling, throwing you down on the bed and climbing on top of you immediately before you could even process it. Next thing you knew, his lips were on yours and you tasted yourself on his tongue when he shoved it in your mouth.

You whined beneath him, lifting your hips up in the hopes of grinding against his throbbing erection but he wouldn’t let you. You scratched down his muscular back, making him groan against your mouth.

His hissed in pain, “Alright, alright, you brat.” He growled, “Spread your legs for me.” And you did as he asked so quickly that he couldn’t help but chuckle.

You whined again, “Hurry up! We can play later, not now please…” You murmured, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. They didn’t work on him. Instead he just trailed his metal fingers up and down your wet slit, casually and lazily sliding a finger or two; in and out as he wanted, making your back arch off the bed. “Damn you, Bucky!” You cried out.

He smirked, then cupped you down there and said, “No one else is allowed in between these thighs from now on, you hear me?”

You nodded quickly.

He spoke again, “You come to me when you need something from now on. You want someone to eat you out until you can’t fucking think straight? You come to me. You need to be fucked hard? You come to me. You need a quick fuck at anytime during the day, or night? You come to me. Understood?”

You nodded again, whining. “Oh my fucking God, Bucky! Hurry up or I swear I will go find out if Steve is indeed free at the m-,”

“Shut up!” He spoke through gritted teeth as he pulled his sweats down just enough to free his cock, and slid it inside of your wet hole with ease.

You gasped, struggling to breathe as he filled you up. Bucky groaned at how warm and wet, and tight you were. You moaned as he removed himself entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size.

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. He kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you over and over again. “Bucky… please,” You whimpered.

“Hungry for my cock, now aren’t you?” he mumbled as he sped up into you. He pulled away from your face to look down at you, his metal hand coming up to wrap itself around your throat. “This is what you wanted? Hmm? This cock right here is what you wanted?” He taunted as he stretched you out completely, thrusting deeper into you.

“Yes…” You cried out, “Please, please, please… more!”

Bucky laughed, pounding harder into you. “You’ve been teasing me for a long time, you know that? Always taunting me, always showing off how much better than me you are…” He alternated between slowing down and speeding up as he fucked you.

Your mind was a foggy mess, struggling to register and process his words.

“Always walking around half naked in the mornings, testing me…” He growled, “Always showing off these lovely thighs…” He pulled out, leaving you gasping at the loss of contact, he reached down solely to bite down hard on your soft thigh before sliding back into you, making you moan and lose your mind. “That’s right baby, moan for me.” He whispered against your open mouth before shoving his tongue in there, swallowing your pathetic moans.

“I need to cum, Bucky please,” you cried, with tears in your eyes.

He surprised you when he said, “No, not so easily,” He pulled out of you, laid down on his back before pulling you on top of him again; sliding his cock back into you from under you he said, “You don’t get to come so easily while I do all the work.” He smirked, “Now come on, work for it.”

You growled, wrapping both your hands around his throat while he laughed. Fuck, if you weren’t this needy maybe you’d actually knock him out cold too. But fuck he felt so good inside you, you couldn’t get enough.

“You don’t get to boss me around like this, you hear me? I’ll obey just this once, understood?” You stared down into his pretty blue eyes, keeping your hands around his throat, applying just the slightest bit of pressure. “Just this once.” You repeated.

He gave you a cocky grin despite you choking him. “Oh please, you’ll be back time and time again begging for this cock.”

You almost argued, but then realised that it might be true. So instead, you just placed your hands on his muscular chest to hold yourself up as you rode him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you up and down his cock until you both found a pleasurable pace.

“Fuck…” You moaned, “You feel so fucking good!”

His thick, throbbing cock stretched you open as you took him as best you could, moaning and whimpering desperately as he groaned and gasped under you. “That’s it, ride me. Ride my cock.” His grip on your hips tightened as he brought you down on his cock with force each time and thrusting upwards to fuck you deeper. “Come for me, baby.” He threw his head back, growling. “Come for me!”

Your hands tightened around his throat as you leaned in to press your lips against his, claiming his open mouth and muffling his animalistic growls as you came undone around him again. “Come with me…” You whispered, desperate to feel him inside you.

And he did. Groaning, and gasping as your hands tightened around his throat one last time before you let go.

You both caught your breaths, coming down from that high together. You got off of him and laid down on his bed, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Wow.” You both said in unison, before looking at each other and chuckling.

“That was…” Bucky trailed off.

“Yeah.” You answered, breathlessly.

He turned to face you with mischief in his eyes, reached out and trailed a finger lazily down your damp cheek, “You wanna go again?”

To which you replied, enthusiastically, “Fuck yeah, come here!”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #avenger!reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel au

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